Tag Archives: network

An Audience

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Someone finally asked about the whereabouts of my blog posts; to everyone inquiring, to the both of you really, my process was amicably interrupted. First, I left my journal on the roof of a moving vehicle; after retracing my steps, it’s been verifiably lost. Someone in the world may have notes detailing my day to day life, if they’re capable of painting my picture through words, then I expect a six-hour long TMZ segment dedicated to my insanity. The culprit most likely tore out the first quarter of used pages, and kept the really nice pen that was attached. Second, following the Martin Luther King Jr. post, I had mistakenly scheduled a string of black history themed posts, before it dawned on me that February is Black History Month. Meaning to push back my blog queue, everything went awry when I lost the filler content that wasn’t transcribed from my journal.

Lastly, it’s hard to cultivate an audience without concentrating on a single subject area. I write fiction, non-fiction, about health, style, technology, and other endless possibilities and combinations. I just write, to clear my head, or elaborate my stance from social discussions without resorting to arguments. As much as I respect journalists, their profession has turned into copywriter hell; as a contrarian, it’s hard to sell to the status quo. I’ve always thought that whether you like my writing or not, I would’ve been glad to receive criticisms and compliments alike; where compliments make you feel good, criticisms make you better. With expectations like those, you quickly learn that the only thing worse than destructive criticism is silence. My Quora query on the topic is home to cobwebs and tumble weeds, maybe there isn’t an answer; and yet, we’re all convinced that winners don’t fit into square pegs.

If you find yourself impatiently waiting for my scheduled blog posts, then let me know in any manner you see fit; through the channels on jorenerene.com will work best. As with all endeavors, I appreciate any and all interest, thank you for your participation.

Postscript: Special thanks to Tiantha and Jillian!
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Say NO to Kred

Tomorrow’s post was scheduled to be published today. Unfortunately, I endured an experience so traumatic, that venting couldn’t possibly wait for my blog queue to catch up. Last night, I decided to sign up for Kred and PeerIndex to contrast their analysis of social influence from Klout. Without Klout’s publicity, each markets itself as a mature competitor with custom algorithms to better quantify social relevance. PeerIndex, being competent at first glance, will avoid the scathing report that follows: Kred is the worst web service I have ever had the displeasure of using.

Between the rudimentary Pinterest layout, tabs, dialog boxes, and micro-sized Vimeo embed, the brazen lack of polish was appalling for a web service meant to judge me. Alas, sign in with a social network? Sure! Except, what is this PeopleBrowsr the permissions keep referencing? Suspicious eye aside, why does Kred employ the only Authorization Request to EVER disconnect me from Facebook in the process? I double and triple checked my address bar before re-entering my password; and even after committing every security sin known to phishing, one of the previously mentioned tacky dialog boxes pops up to request my name and email address, Kred just accessed my twitter account, what is Kred doing with my information if not acquiring my name and email address?! Then there’s the ultra-secure privacy controls, see the PHP code above that actually leaked into my dashboard? Why is Kred not the laughing stock of social influence? The deeper I delved, the more John McAfee references I felt compelled to make.

Do not be mistaken, I’m a pretty computer literate guy, and I still can’t find an exit. I haven’t felt this exposed since browsing Chat Roulette with my webcam on. I mentioned Kred in a tweet explaining my mistake – my mistake was using their service at all – and am yet to receive any help towards deleting my account. Kred, please scrub any remnants of my participation from your jail broken experiment.