Round About Musings from a Would-be Web Mistress
Left part is more swollen than they promised...
Ever wondered who owns certain sites? I didn't. No, I had this phase where I thought I wanted to be a "Web Master". Sounded really cool. Turned out I had to learn code, flash, and all sorts of new programs to help me edit different code "languages". I enrolled in a course at the community college that promised to certify me as Maestro of the Net in no-time flat. This was right after I realized I didn't want to be a Business Major, Psychologist, Medical Doctor, or Anthropologist, and just before I went into Journalism. This was a big mistake.
I sat next to a boy in my class who told me I could make lots of money designing websites. He said we should go into business together. With my brains and his good-looking ideas we'd have quite the service. Turns out he wasn't all that serious. I went over to his place one Saturday to see his latest design. He hadn't actually designed all that much. He had a black screen with a magic 8 ball. I wasn't sure exactly what for, I guess the look of our business. Then it occurred to me that maybe he'd lured me there to get to know me better. That maybe he liked me and wanted to date me. Turns out that wasn't it, either. He had a girlfriend. Or at least mentioned he had a girlfriend a few times. He seemed oddly focused on the screen in front of him. Confused, I asked him when he was going to finish the design. I wasn't good enough yet to really contribute anything so I was pretty much useless to the business at this point. He wasn't sure. Maybe next week, maybe not, and did I have any ideas for another business to start as well?
Remember when you were a kid and you and your friend dreamed of becoming rich and stayed in your bedroom all day coming up with ideas on how to get there? Well, maybe you didn't do that, but my big brother and his friends did that. I was a girl, and younger, so I pretty much had no say according to my brother, except when he was feeling nice, or his friends wanted to pay attention to me (which, thinking they were the cool older kids, I of course wanted and tried to hang out with them when they let me). Anyway, going over to this guys house was somewhat the same experience, except now I was one of the friends hanging out in the bedroom all day and trying to come up with ideas, but knowing we'd never actually follow through on them.
He was a nice guy, little distracted, but then weren't we all at 21? Well, I was. See, I found out pretty quick that I actually hated sitting in front of a screen for hour on top of monotonous hour wondering why my design didn't look like the code, or doing deep searches to find where my code had gone wrong. I didn't like the class, care much for the guy next to me, or the tediousness of code. As for me and the teacher, we held a mutual contempt. Mutual because of my dislike of the subject, and from her because I would show up late to class, smile and wave to certain classmates, take my seat, and space into the deep recesses of my mind. I can't really blame her for her dislike. My attitute toward the subject was quite clear. My short love affair with crafting the web soon ended, and all that was left was a rudimentary understanding of code and where to buy a web name.
Last night I sat here, in front of my computer, and thought to myself, self, I wonder, who owns www.a.com, www.b.com, www.c.com, and are they actual websites, designed and owned by any actual individuals? Nope! Seriously. I went through the whole alphabet. The only sites I came across were www.q.com (which will route you to www.quest.com), and www.z.com (a site advertising the 2005 Nissan Z). Otherwise it's up for grabs. Seriously. Can you believe that? Nobody has banked on the web as alphabet real estate.
I worked in an ad agency after that. I answered phones. I signed for packages. I listened to the advice of the Public Relations people. I went back to school, to the University. I had also worked in an acting and modeling agency that summer. Not as an actress or a model. I sold classes to wannabes. The classes were free for me, but I had to wear all black, all the time. I wasn't really into it, but the ad agency liked me for that, so they hired me as their receptionist. They put me in one of their commercials, too. It was a car commercial for Henry Day Ford. I was a hippie, on a 1960's Ford Thunderbird. I strummed a guitar. I started thinking that with a little makeup I was maybe cute, and recognizing I had always recieved my best grades in English and Writing, I went into broadcast Journalism. Discovered I like the printed press a whole lot more. And that, in part, is what leads me to here.
Ever wondered who owns certain sites? I didn't. No, I had this phase where I thought I wanted to be a "Web Master". Sounded really cool. Turned out I had to learn code, flash, and all sorts of new programs to help me edit different code "languages". I enrolled in a course at the community college that promised to certify me as Maestro of the Net in no-time flat. This was right after I realized I didn't want to be a Business Major, Psychologist, Medical Doctor, or Anthropologist, and just before I went into Journalism. This was a big mistake.
I sat next to a boy in my class who told me I could make lots of money designing websites. He said we should go into business together. With my brains and his good-looking ideas we'd have quite the service. Turns out he wasn't all that serious. I went over to his place one Saturday to see his latest design. He hadn't actually designed all that much. He had a black screen with a magic 8 ball. I wasn't sure exactly what for, I guess the look of our business. Then it occurred to me that maybe he'd lured me there to get to know me better. That maybe he liked me and wanted to date me. Turns out that wasn't it, either. He had a girlfriend. Or at least mentioned he had a girlfriend a few times. He seemed oddly focused on the screen in front of him. Confused, I asked him when he was going to finish the design. I wasn't good enough yet to really contribute anything so I was pretty much useless to the business at this point. He wasn't sure. Maybe next week, maybe not, and did I have any ideas for another business to start as well?
Remember when you were a kid and you and your friend dreamed of becoming rich and stayed in your bedroom all day coming up with ideas on how to get there? Well, maybe you didn't do that, but my big brother and his friends did that. I was a girl, and younger, so I pretty much had no say according to my brother, except when he was feeling nice, or his friends wanted to pay attention to me (which, thinking they were the cool older kids, I of course wanted and tried to hang out with them when they let me). Anyway, going over to this guys house was somewhat the same experience, except now I was one of the friends hanging out in the bedroom all day and trying to come up with ideas, but knowing we'd never actually follow through on them.
He was a nice guy, little distracted, but then weren't we all at 21? Well, I was. See, I found out pretty quick that I actually hated sitting in front of a screen for hour on top of monotonous hour wondering why my design didn't look like the code, or doing deep searches to find where my code had gone wrong. I didn't like the class, care much for the guy next to me, or the tediousness of code. As for me and the teacher, we held a mutual contempt. Mutual because of my dislike of the subject, and from her because I would show up late to class, smile and wave to certain classmates, take my seat, and space into the deep recesses of my mind. I can't really blame her for her dislike. My attitute toward the subject was quite clear. My short love affair with crafting the web soon ended, and all that was left was a rudimentary understanding of code and where to buy a web name.
Last night I sat here, in front of my computer, and thought to myself, self, I wonder, who owns www.a.com, www.b.com, www.c.com, and are they actual websites, designed and owned by any actual individuals? Nope! Seriously. I went through the whole alphabet. The only sites I came across were www.q.com (which will route you to www.quest.com), and www.z.com (a site advertising the 2005 Nissan Z). Otherwise it's up for grabs. Seriously. Can you believe that? Nobody has banked on the web as alphabet real estate.
I worked in an ad agency after that. I answered phones. I signed for packages. I listened to the advice of the Public Relations people. I went back to school, to the University. I had also worked in an acting and modeling agency that summer. Not as an actress or a model. I sold classes to wannabes. The classes were free for me, but I had to wear all black, all the time. I wasn't really into it, but the ad agency liked me for that, so they hired me as their receptionist. They put me in one of their commercials, too. It was a car commercial for Henry Day Ford. I was a hippie, on a 1960's Ford Thunderbird. I strummed a guitar. I started thinking that with a little makeup I was maybe cute, and recognizing I had always recieved my best grades in English and Writing, I went into broadcast Journalism. Discovered I like the printed press a whole lot more. And that, in part, is what leads me to here.
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