Through a Newbies Eyes Date Thursday, April 25, 2024 - 09:33 PM PST Topic This Website Picture it. You're just minding you're business, wandering around the streets of the Internet, when you end up outside a dark "cool" looking place. People are constantly running in and out, some thrown out and others voluntarily leaving in a huff. Intrigued, you enter, glancing at the darkly glowing sign above the door. "Shmeng." Inside, it seems like a circus, library, heaven, and hell all rolled up into one bursting blob of humanity. As a new person, you are given a nametag. Thinking hard and glancing around, inspiration strikes. You jot down your name as "dArK vAmPyRe mYsTrYsS oF tHe NyGhT." Feeling proud, you strut out into the middle of this place. A few glance over at you, at your name, and dismiss you. Some nudge their friends and chuckle. Others don't even notice you, which seems slightly worse. Looking around, you see the other newbies. All have the same bright-eyed excited puppy look about them, sloppily concealed by white makeup and a forced brooding look. And, the nametags. Most have a name they seem to be regretting now. Others in the crowd have no tag, but everyone recognizes them. They are the regulars. A few are the Saints, with dark halos and various implements of their specialty. And you see him now, passing through the crowd like Moses parting the sea, the Deity. The Webmaster. Other newbies are falling to their faces and bowing, even some regulars do so. Others just give an approving nod and go back to whatever they were doing. Awed, you fall back into the crowd, and head towards the back. There is a cleared circle around a podium, and someone is up there speaking. People applaud and nod thoughtfully, and the being gets down. Wanting to fit in, to get your 15 minutes of fame, to elicit thoughtful nods of your own, you sprint over, intending to get up there. As you make your way, thoughts percolate through your head, and you notice rules posted on the walls. (No Poetry, Whining, Diary Entries, etc.) You could go up there and make a fool of yourself, break some social code you don't know of, or repeat what someone already said. But before you even get to the self-doubt and embarrassment, you have to make it to the podium. Easy enough. There is a door with a single cryptic word scrawled into it. "Submit." A name, command, or warning? More than slightly nervous, you go in. There is a group of giants with the word "editor" tattooed on their head. They are the ones guarding the walkway to the podium. To get up there, you have to get past them. One looks over and grins, cracking their knuckles. Shaken, you back out, diving past the door aptly named and towards a few small groups near another wall. A sign, "Forums", hangs from the ceiling. Perhaps here would be better, a place to earn some recognition without the stress of "Submitting". Many of the people are newbies like yourself, easily picked out with the bright eyes and bravado. Half are eager, shouting out whatever thought pops into their head. The other half watches carefully, seeing what the regulars do and commenting quietly. A little sign attached to the nametag keeps count of how many comments each person makes. Looking at your own, "0 comments, Coward", ruefully you smile and walk away. This time, you spot a tiny dark corner where people are randomly saying whatever comes into their heads, but instead of seeming rude such as in the "Forums", it's amusing. But, there is also some attention that comes with each comment. Whoever spoke last has a tiny spotlight focused on them, drawing eyes until someone else speaks up. Too nervous to even have that much of the public eye, you sit back by the bar. Watching. Trying to learn the ways of this new interesting place. Waiting for your courage to get up. And slowly, you turn into one of the little statues you hadn't noticed before. A lurker. Welcome to Shmeng. This article comes from Shmeng http://www.shmeng.com/ The URL for this story is: http://www.shmeng.com/modules.php?op=modload&name=News&file=article&sid=379