On Social Media

Why not just dump the daily tweeting on to low-level staffers or agency PR flacks?  

That question perfectly captures what's wrong with a lot of corporate and brand accounts! I mean, yes, it's Twitter. We're not mapping the human genome. But it has emerged as a pretty important communications channel, and this is what we do. If you were in a room speaking to an audience of thousands of people, you'd take that pretty seriously, right? I don't see how Twitter is all that different. If you're going to bother having an account, I think it's worth taking a bit of care to say something truly informative, or differentiated, or funny, or whatever. Whether it's a junior person or a senior person, someone in PR or creative, whoever it is should be someone you trust to do a good job and give it some love.

via

Just Leaving This Here...

... because it looks so good and I haven't had brunch in a hot minute.

The Past

Trying to take (and listen) to good advice from friends and Pinterest.

Summer, Lately

My usual busy-body self has spent the last few weekends in St. Louis with an open agenda. This means I have been filling my days with stops at the TG Farmer's Market, coffee at home, afternoon drinks with friends, naps with Maverick, even a hike at Castlewood. 

It feels unbelievable that summer is almost over.

In the summers, I play softball at Tower Grove. We start in late April and play til mid-August. Looking ahead, it always feels like the longest season ever. Like we have forever to get our groove, win some games. At the (beginning and) end of the season, the games are pushed up 15 minutes to account for shorter days. This year, when that time rolled around, I was stunned. Summer is coming to an end?

Last weekend was our end-of-the-year tournament for softball. This weekend, I'm having a(n almost too) late summer BBQ. The following weekend is Labor Day Weekend – the official end of summer. (For the record: I used to consider LouFest the end of summer, but then it moved weekends, so I know I think of it as a kick-off party for fall.) 

I know I didn't waste my summer, but still wishing I had more days. 

On Ferguson

I can't pretend to know how I'd react if I was on the scene. Be it as a protester, police officer, journalist. Would I resort to violence or force if I was scared or if I felt threatened or if I thought it would help? I can't sit here behind my computer and act like I know the answer to that question. It's easy to do that, but you can't really know.

I can't pretend that I know what they're thinking. I can't pretend to know how it feels to be Mike Brown's mother, family, friends, neighbors. Or on the flip side, to be the daughter of a police officer this week. I feel like my opinion isn't valid. What do I know of hate? Of danger? Of fear? Of injustice?

I can't sit here behind my computer and act like my opinion matters. That what I think is more valid than what "they" think – whether the "they" is the police, the rioters, the peaceful protesters, the media, the government officials. What do I know?

We're not even there. Most of us sitting at home posting song lyrics and famous quotes about love don't even know the first thing about what it's like to be in that situation. To be that scared. To be that hurt. To be that angry.

It's easy to sit back and look in and read reports and look at pictures and watch video and act like we know what's going on out there.