While content of the posts were in jest, I started to realize that …

• I was connecting with and meeting new people.

• I was engaging  in conversations with people about things ranging from personality traits to industry news and trends.

• I was exposed to new ideas and resources.

• I was being inspired and thinking about ideas for projects and future blog posts.

• I was … networking … much in the same way that I would at a conference.

Well, sort of …

I’m an introvert (an INFJ, to be exact). Networking at a conference among strangers with whom I’ve never before connected requires an incredible amount of self-discipline. And, even when I’m most “on my game,” I often find  myself walking away from networking events realizing missed opportunity. (“Why didn’t I tell her about …?” or, “Oh, man, I really should have asked that guy … ” or, “I really spent too much time on the sidelines again.”)

For me, social media breaks down this barrier to entry. And, it was so apparent this past week when my colleagues (with whom I typically chat on a daily basis) were in Austin, and I found conversation, creativity, and excellent connections via Twitter, while not attending a conference.

Social media tools have become a platform for many people who, in any other environment, lack the confidence or comfort to participate in conversation or contribute ideas. From a sociological standpoint, more people are engaging, more ideas are being shared, and our collective intellect is advancing more quickly than it was, say, 100 plus years ago when intellectualism belonged to an elite class of people and publishing ideas took time.

But, we can’t live in a cocoon.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that all introverts should just hole up in their basement and bask in the glow of their computer monitor and online connections. I’m a big proponent of getting out (however uncomfortable it may be) and bringing that online relationship to life, offline. But, for the time being, I found that by “not” attending SXSW, I ended up richer in connections, ideas, inspiration and, of course, cash — all great resources I can bank upon until next year.

“Think of a better one…really fast,” I answered…only half joking.

I told the audience member this: “Your ideas are your weapons and your gift is that you can make more of them. All a stealer can do is sit and wait for something new to steal.”

While maybe not the most satisfying answer, it was the only one I had at the time…and the only one I have still.

It’s a question and topic that I’ve been thinking about a lot here on the first day of SXSW.

I’ve been in a few sessions (including today’s keynote by Danah Boyd) where the topic of conversation has centered on this space where data and technology meet the best and worst in human nature.

It’s not a very pretty place.

The tangled web we weave

The stuff I share online gets stolen all the time. People steal my ideas. They steal my content. They steal my quotes.

And they do so quite easily because I have made this information public within the many social networks I use for my business.

Problems occur because the fundamental weaknesses in social media are also the fundamental weaknesses of humanity.

Although we humans love, share, support and nurture, we also (just as naturally) commit breaches of trust, invade other’s privacy, lie, discredit and yes…steal.

We’ve been doing this since the beginning of time. Now we just have shiny new tools that allow us to do it much faster and with great swarms of people to serve as our audience and oftentimes accomplice.

It’s an intersection that’s producing some interesting (and often disturbing) questions to contend with:

• Does all this data we’re sharing make it easier to understand and relate to each other or does it just fuel a growing sense of global narcissism and competition?

• If you need to be socially vulnerable online in order to establish the authenticity necessary to create a productive social interaction, how do you ensure that this vulnerability isn’t exploited (especially when it’s in our DNA to weed out the vulnerable in favor of the “strong?”)

• What is the line between having your content syndicated and having it stolen? Who gets to make that determination? If it’s your stuff and you gave it to the masses, is it their right to then own it?

• If our share-centric culture rewards those who are most transparent, what do you do when that transparency attracts people whose only gift is that they have the patience to troll for others’ ideas and the ability to delude themselves that it’s acceptable to pass them off as their own?

These are some of the issues that marketers are struggling to contend with, measure, monetize and control.

Perhaps tomorrow’s session will bring some new answers. But I suspect we’ll continue to toss around these meaty, ambiguous questions.

I look forward to sharing what I learn, either way…even if that means someone out there is just going to steal it.

I was on the cusp of attending the conference for the first time, and had many glorious dreams of what the experience would hold in store for me.

As I explained in the post, as a born and bred “Charlie Bucket” (a la “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory”), I had been struggling for months to find my voice in rooms full of “Veruca Salts” – people who might have had less ethics, talent or dedication than I, but still tended to get all the attention…simply because they demanded it.

So did I get my “Golden Ticket” at the 2009 SXSWi conference?

Nope.

When I got to Austin, the joint was fairly crawling with Veruca “Twitterlebrities,” basking in the glow of real-time groupie love.

Me? I wandered around in a daze, making connections with people who were often too drunk to remember my name the next day and forming deeper bonds with the people I already knew.

Oh sure, I learned a lot. (To be honest, I could sit in a closet for an hour and still come out with an insight or two.) While not bowled over by the sessions I attended, I learned from the people I observed, the conversations I participated in and the ideas I chewed on in my free time.

A new year…a new bar of chocolate.

So now it’s one year later, and I’m looking back at that blog post with some nostalgia.

I’ve spent the past year learning, training, presenting, teaching, consulting and reading, but none of that has changed my inherent Charlie Bucket-ness.

And instead of finding myself on more equal ground with the Verucas, I’ve actually been overwhelmed by new hordes of them.

In the past year, my market has been flooded with unemployed marketing and communications professionals launching new careers in social media. (My personal favorites are the ones who come to my training camps and then add “social media expert” to their LinkedIn profiles the next day.)

The marketing tool of choice for the “social media Verucas” is also the bullhorn they use to market themselves, transforming some of the social tools I love dearly into echo chambers of posturing and promotion.

In short, the social space has become crowded, brutish, competitive and often just plain nasty.

But like Charlie, I’ve chosen to stick it out, cause really…what else am I going to do?

I was in marketing and communications for more than a decade before I had social tools to work with. And I’ll be here another decade after today’s newly self-anointed “social gurus” have moved on to “the next big thing.”

Cheer up Charlie. Just be glad you’re you.

So where does this leave me as I’m packing my bags to head down this week to “Geek Mecca?”

Well, I’ve been waiting patiently for over a year for the “social media Verucas” to fall down the “bad egg” chute, but that doesn’t appear to be happening anytime soon.

So like Charlie, I plan to just keep chugging forward anyway, simply because I’m doing something that I love, I love the people I’m doing it with and I believe that life’s too short to toss away a gift like that.

Maybe I’m just naive, but I truly believe that hard work, innovation and honesty are the true “Golden Tickets” for success. I just need to keep my eye on the prize and my focus on the future…

If I can just outlast these other kids, I’m going to own this stinkin’ chocolate factory.

Are you going to be there? If so, we’d love to connect with you!