A Story Tale

I’ve been reading a lot lately about this term, “crowdsourcing”. No, not crowdsurfing like you did at the last Scott McCreery (weird voice match up  concert, this is something completely different. And far less dangerous. At least, so I think. I’m going to tell you about my ongoing relationship with this idea of crowdsourcing.girlprone

I first read about it in an Indy week magazine, Raleigh’s modern press on what’s hot(ish), music, food, fashion, etc, and how you can be in on it and digging it in the Triangle. It’s mostly for hipsters and uncategorized intellects, like myself, who read everything and anything they can get their hands on,  and then work their way to the glorious magic delight of a crossword puzzle in the back. Oh, and of course the weekly horoscope to predict my near future.

I’ll begin this blog with a glossary of terms:

Crowdsourcing is: the practice of obtaining needed services, ideas, or content by soliciting contributions from a large group of people, and especially from an online community, rather than from traditional employees or suppliers. Often used to subdivide tedious work or to fund-raise startup companies and charities, this process can occur both online and offline. It combines the efforts of crowds of self-identified volunteers or part-time workers, where each one on their own initiative adds a small portion that combines into a greater result. Crowdsourcing is different from an ordinary outsourcing since it is a task or problem that is outsourced to an undefined public rather than to a specific, named group.

Did you read all that? Remember, this is my blog, but I have to put in little tidbits of fact to make it boring or else you’ll be pestering me to write a new blog every five minutes just so you can read my riveting words, and I haven’t got time for that. Unless you’re going to pay me. Then I have all the time in the world.

Where were we? Ah yes, my latest experience with crowdsourcing was basically this: Me getting the brilliant idea that I was going to utilize a website called Peerbackers to well, get some peer backing. Not like a bunch of peers on my back, and no, not a bunch of people peering DOWN my back, that would just be weird and who knows what they would find. I was planning to write an eloquent letter, appealing to the internet community at large and basically tell them what my present and into the near future plans are as they stir around in my healthy, mostly grey-mattered, not that that mattered but I thought I would mention it anyway, brain. I was going to put on my dramatic effects, tell my sob story, pull out all the stops, and dance a money rain dance upon the heart strings of all the compassionate, generous souls in this world.

So, I drafted it up. I sent it to my dad. He sent me his edits, I revised. He reread it, sent me more edits. I revised. Then he denounced it was too vague. Enter discouragement and self-loathing. Big ideas have popped like balloons. Clouds have settled over my optimism.

Moving from that place of “vague” to “specific” cannot likely happen because my plan involves steps. Lengthy ones. It’s only in the idea stages and it’s all about working up to an actual tangible “thing”. There is no building to be erected just yet, no project to be completed, just little old me trying to raise money to start learning about health, healing, and how to facilitate this within others. But I’m crazy if I think a bunch of strangers are going to have any interest in 1) What is going on in my life. 2) My life’s goals and dreams. We have the lottery for that –where anonymous Americas can support and donate to another’s hopes and dreams of becoming wealthy. Side note: A study (recently reported in TIME magazine) conducted in 1978 showed that Americans were no more likely to be happy after winning the lottery and even showed signs of finding less happiness from everyday things after doing so. But at least I would be able to stop eating carrots for breakfast, peanut butter and rice cakes as my lunch, and beer for dinner.

So, I know what you’re thinking: FIND A JOB! GET A LIFE! And let me tell you that for the past 7 months, I’ve been looking. I’ve also committed the past 30 days to applying to AT LEAST one per day. I just started my LinkedIn profile (as Amelia Bedelia of course) in hopes that some sort of direction, if the school I’m about to attend is NOT it, begins to form. Meanwhile, I don’t spend money and I do my thing. Working my small brain into a single crinkle of distress on my forehead. My dad also said I can’t make my presentation sound so whiney. Thankfully, this is no appeal, this is just a story. And so I can whine all I want. In fact this is my Whineited States of Blogerica!!!! One Blog Nation Under Me. No, but he’s right. I really shouldn’t wine. Oops, I mean whine. Or do I? fatty food

I’ve looked for jobs, scholarships, grants, I’ve tried to win the lottery, I even joined a Trivia team, and diligently play weekly in hopes that we would win money, but all you win is gift certificates to eat cheap Irish food, none of which I can ingest. What I need about now is the LUCK of the Irish.

I love the idea of websites like Kickstarter.org, Peerbackers.com, and CloudCrowd.com. I have my draft drafted, I have my username, I even have the prizes you’re supposed to give back to those who donate. Now I just need to decide whether or not enough people like me to want to donate to the Emily-helps people heal cause. Would you rather I join the throughs of corporate America, people? Because that’s what I’m threatening. What should I do people!??!?!

Well, you’re in luck because,

The End.

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