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Life in the New Sweatshop


Last week’s Newsweek contained an interesting little article comparing user generated content sites to sweatshops. As I read it and then thought about it, I had to admit that it is true. For little to no compensation ordinary folk like us are, for all intents and purposes, creating the content that draws others to countless sites on the Internet and makes millionaires out of the owners who do little more than pat us on the head for our contributions by throwing us a few new apps here and there.

This week the industry bigwigs are meeting and playing in Sun Valley, Idaho to, among other things, try to determine how to make “mo’ money”.

The big questions?

  • building or buying digital industry leaders
  • designing the business model for generating revenue online
  • how to exploit user generated content and social networking sites

Apparently user generated material is what attracts people to the Internet but so far no one has figured out how to really turn us into slave labor. We aren’t poor Asians who haven’t any choice but to make Nike runners for $2 a day or Mexicans eager to make Hersey’s kisses for a fraction of what the company was paying Canadians in Ontario. For the most part we all have day jobs and view our blogging and networking as an outlet that we pay for via our Internet providers. Silly us.

The Internet thus far is not turning people into the same types of mindless consumers that say television does and this is a problem.

The other problem is that as content generators we are still relatively free of editorial restraints. At least as long as Net Neutrality exists but the powers that be are on that problem too. Although there seem to be plenty of us willing to write product endorsement/reviews for freebies being under the illusion that their opinion carries as much weight as the product link in their posts.

So how does it feel to be a virtual serf?

Sick in Bed


I spent the majority of Monday in bed. Disease has been weaving its way around me for weeks now with MidKid and Rob suffering from something that isn’t quite the pneumonic plague but certainly sounds juicy and raspy.

Of course with our first anniversary looming and the fact that I just felt generally invincible, I didn’t take any precautions. No obsessive hand washing or sanitizing hand gels. Didn’t don a mask. Certainly didn’t entertain the thought of separate sleeping accommodations.

So I am sick. But judging from the disparity in our symptoms it is more likely that the humid weather on our trip triggered allergies which have led to a sinus infection. It has all the classic hallmarks: sore eyeballs, tender facial bones, tickly dry cough, out of body lightheaded feeling.

I am toughing it out with bed rest and the most vile of herbal teas. Rest and liquids (and Sudafed).

Back in the day, I was stricken with sinus on and off all spring and summer and into the fall sometimes. The z-pack was my friend. Since moving up to the arid prairie, I have had one sinus infection and I basically just toughed it out for a few days. Like I am doing right now.

It’s a bit inconvenient but on the up side, I am getting a lot of blogging done for this week and next (yes, I blog ahead – where would you be gentle readers if I didn’t, eh?). And I am making much progress with slogging through the ebook on book store ownership.

Not a fascinating read and there is more piddly detail to business owning then there was to teaching, but I know what I need to do and have more questions for the current shop owner as a result.

Sunday I was feeling so cooped up that I escaped into town on my own to scan the bookshop again and wander through Staples. Oddly, or perhaps not for me, wandering among the aisles of an office supply store is relaxing. I do so love paper and writing utensils and the millions of ways to store them.

Today however I haven’t minded being quarantined in the bedroom.

Rob finally gave in and went to the walk in clinic. Sinus infection. Brought on by the virus that preceded it and his stubborn refusal to rest. Despite still feeling like a pile of poop himself, he has taken care of me. Bringing me tea and Sudafed. Napping with me. And taking care of lunch and supper for BabyDaughter.

Still, I was up a few times. Managed to do dishes three times. Ironic because we do have the new dishwasher now. It’s been plugging the hole in the cabinetry since before we left on holiday. Not hooked up, but good things come to those of us with the patience to wait.

In the olden days I would have watched TV.

We don’t have a television in our room. It eventually leads down the path of infrequent sex. Evil like that has no place in our bedroom. I wouldn’t know what to watch anyway, and I have noticed on the trips we have taken to our folks that Rob and I have a tendency to watch TV now as though we were new found aboriginals from the deepest part of the Amazon.

I could have watched a movie, but again it just has the aura of time suck about it. I would rather read and write and think about the mapping and organizing that needs doing in the coming days and how I am going to accomplish it. This just eats up a day like nobody’s business.

Almost Home


Crossed the border without incident Thursday afternoon and spent the night in downtown Regina with intentions to get to bed early and make the last leg of the journey home as early in the morning as possible.

Regina is unremarkable. A big enough city whose middle has been thoroughly soaked in the urine of the homeless and definitely not a place we are considering as the ultimate in root planting for ourselves. In fact aside from Lice Widow, Rob’s next younger sister, the family has mostly endeavored to escape this place. Read Full Article