It’s not “camp” unless you’re building a fire.

Please help me understand this.

In my field, (un)conferences are the lifeblood of excuses to get out from behind one’s computer and actually (*gasp*) socialize, instead of just talk and write and present and tweet about all things “social” online.  (Crazy concept, isn’t it?) But a very large chunk of these conferences are called “camp” — there’s BarCamp, PodCamp, BrandCamp, WordCamp, GeekGirlCamp, myriad “boot camps,” and I’m sure plenty more.

I’ve been to a few of these “camps” I listed above (for the record: though many tell me I look like Alyson Hannigan, I never went to band camp) and they’re anything but camps. They’re a bunch of geeks in conference centers, usually laptops, netbooks, and iPhones in tow, listening to a speaker, jotting down notes and tweeting as they go. Occasionally they actually talk to each other. Most of the time they dress like this.

But none of this has anything to do with camping. Or campaigns.

When I was growing up, every year my family would drive Up North (that’s capitalized in Michigan) to Clear Lake State Park, get a campsite, pop a tent, erect our screened-in kitchen around a picnic table, and well, camp. We’d build a campfire in a fire pit, and sometimes roast hot dogs or marshmallows. We water skied on the lake, laid out on the beach, played volleyball, rode bikes, and explored trails.

When I went to fifth grade camp, we were put up in cabins but it was nonetheless camp. There was canoeing, swimming, horseback riding, archery, and we had to schlep quite a ways to an outhouse in the middle of the night if we had to use the bathroom. There was a mess hall, counselors, arts and crafts, hiking, and of course, a campfire every night. You know, “Kumbaya” and the whole bit.

So why the heck are all these conferences called “camp”?!

I don’t go popping a tent in the middle of the woods with a bunch of people, make a fire, roast marshmallows over it, and call it a conference, because it’s not. It’s camping. And neither should a bunch of folks gather in a facility that has tables, comfy chairs, big screen projectors, electricity, running water, and keynote speakers and call it “camp,” because it’s not. That’s a conference.

I don’t get it. Halp?

Photo: That’s my dad, camping a few years ago.

Social media is way too smurfy these days.

[If you know me in person, chances are you've heard this before, but I'm at the point now where I feel it just needs to be written down.]

I hate the term “social media.” Really, I do. Why? Because it’s too hard to define. I’m definitely not the first person to blog about this, and I’m sure I won’t be the last. But here’s the truth:

All media is social media.

Media, at its very ethos, is social. Cavemen didn’t paint cave paintings and not talk about them. Egyptians didn’t carve hieroglyphics just because they were pretty pictures — they told stories. Radio never really was one-way — it encouraged interaction with people calling in. TV may seem one-way but do people not sit around the TV and watch it together? Do people not talk about their favorite shows with each other?

All media always has, and always will, encourage social interaction. Whether it’s immediate as what we understand “social media” to be nowadays or not is a different story.

The only difference between “traditional” media and “social” media is that “social media” makes two-way (or one-to-many, or many-to-many) communication a helluva lot faster. And let’s just face it – this is simply the way the world communicates now.

However, like those folks I linked above, I understand that there is no one, true definition of “social media,” and that alone is a problem, illustrated by a story a few friends of mine relayed to me recently:

A colleague of ours, a rather big name in the “social media world” and a bigwig at a rather large, world-famous company, was to speak about social media at a local event. I did not attend said event, but my colleagues did, because they wanted to hear what he had to say about how he’s used “social media” in/for his company. Based on the questions from the audience, however, it became more of a Twitter 101 class, and my colleagues admitted they were a little embarrassed for him. This was not a marketing fail, as the event was promoted appropriately. Or was it?

My colleagues’ definition of social media was and is much more complex than that of the audience. They were expecting how this guy applied “social media” for marketing/PR purposes. The audience was apparently expecting how to use a tool or two, which is a lot different.

Social media is the new smurf.

Smurfs used the word “smurf” for just about anything, and it was understood without question. Or they used it when they couldn’t think of any other word for something, which is where we are now with “social media.” Hell, any kind of interaction via the internet or mobile now can be considered “social media,” and I can’t believe that for a society as chatty and as articulate as we are, we can’t think of any other words for what the heck we’re talking about.

We need to expand our vernacular.

I was taught that you shouldn’t complain about something without proposing a solution, but honestly? I don’t have one. What I do know is that the more we use “social media” as a term for just about any kind of communication these days, the more confused people get, and the more smurfy things become. I like to be more specific when I speak of expedited communication through ever-changing technology, but I realize that sometimes it’s easier smurfed than smurfed. I know that many times, I still go over peoples’ smurfs and they still don’t smurf what I’m smurfing about, even when I think I’m smurfing on their level.

So what do you smurf? Is “social media” too smurfy these days? Should we be more specific and throw that term out the smurf? Or is it fine and smurfy? Leave your smurfs in the smurfs.

Will the real rockstars please stand up?

I’ve noticed that these days, the word “rockstar” is thrown about pretty darn freely. There are social media rockstars, rockstar scientists, rockstar entrepreneurs, even rockstar baristas. Essentially, anybody who is popular and good at what they do is anointed the title of “rockstar” by consensus of others in their field. I encounter this in my world of geekery so much that it’s obvious that the true meaning of “rockstar” is completely lost.

This bothers me.

Why? Because I have friends who really are rockstars. Award-winning, touring, genuine rockstars. Who play music. In bands.

And now I don’t know what to call them.

Someone in my geek world asked me not long ago what I did the past weekend, so I said I was “hanging out with my rockstar friends.” They responded with, “Really, what do they do?” So I had to clarify, “They’re musicians. In bands. You know, rockstars. Literally.” The person I was speaking with seemed absolutely astounded that I could say “rockstar” and actually be meaning rockstar in its original context.

This entire situation seems so ironic, especially since the majority of the time I hear “rockstar” it’s referring to somebody who is good with computers or social media or something along those geeky lines.

I’m not suggesting that people change their lexicon and not use the term “rockstar” for people admired in their field. That would be impossible. What I would like, however, is another term to call my real, literally rockstar friends so as to clear up confusion.

So, what should we call real, genuine rockstars now? Nerds?

Photo of Dana Forrester by Michael Spleet.

Your mom is an expert.

A fellow social media enthusiast Bill Deys, whom I was lucky enough to meet at the PodCamp Michigan ’08 afterglow, touched on an issue that has eaten away at me for a long time, and that is the (over)use of the term “expert” in the social media realm. He made a point that I’ve been preaching since I can remember — nobody can call themselves an “expert” in social media. SM is so new, and things are changing so quickly here on the web, that it’s literally impossible for any one person to be an expert. Yet, it seems like everywhere I click, somebody new is proclaiming themselves to be an expert on it.

Stop it.

There is only one person I can think of that truly does deserve the title of “social media expert” under his name on a business card and that is Chris Brogan, and even he prefers to just say he “advises people.” He acknowledges the overabundance of self-proclaimed “social media experts” and started a list of things he wants every “expert” to be able to know, which is a good way of educating, humbing, and challenging himself and other students of social media, the majority of whom are his readers.

Did you see that word I used right there? Students. That’s exactly what we are. On the internet, ideas seem to exchange 100+ times faster than they did when we relied on paper as our main read medium, which means that we can hardly keep up with the changing ideas, techniques, strategies, etc. before what we just learned has already become outdated.

But that’s okay, because we are still learning.

Brian Solis, credited as being one of “the original thought leaders who paved the way for Social Media,” says social media

… is about facilitating interactions between people online. Just because we have the tools to engage, doesn’t make it any easier to do this the right way.

Social media is about sociology and the understanding that with the new social tools available to us, we can more effectively observe the cultures of online communities and listen to and respond directly to people within the communities.

Sociology – The study of human social behavior, especially the study of the origins, organization, institutions, and development of human society.

(Source: “Will the real social media expert please stand up?“)

See the language he used there? Tools. Understanding. Observing. Cultures. Communities. Development. That is the vernacular of education. Doctors and lawyers call what they do “practice” for a reason — knowing that their field is always changing and there is always something new to learn.

One may argue that I’m just a pedant for semantics, but I truly believe in the power of language and when the masses misuse or abuse certain expressions, meaning gets lost among the societal understanding.

Remember in the ’90s when “alternative” music became, well … mainstream? People failed to understand the irony.  The word “alternative,” in the sense the music was intended, meant “employing or following nontraditional or unconventional ideas, methods, etc.; existing outside the establishment: an alternative newspaper; alternative lifestyles.” No so much if it’s all over the FM radio airwaves and MTV, VH1, etc. The alternative to “alternative music” was anything but “alternative” … like polka or flamenco. Those are alternative!

Along the same lines, if everybody and their brother declares themselves and “expert” in social media, does that not cheapen the very meaning? If everybody has the same level of expertise (theoretically), then “expert” becomes less “expert” and more “average.” Then once again we struggle to find meaning in terms which there should really be no confusion in the first place.

Bill has the right idea. He says

What you have to do is find someone you feel you can trust and listen to them, it’s not a bad idea to seek second, third, etc. opinions but don’t be surprised if you get different answers. Ask questions from anyone your talking to. Ask if the first guys plan would work, if second guy shoots it down completely maybe guy two sucks.

Hmm … that sounds a lot like what people do with doctors and attorneys. There may be something to this idea.

What are your thoughts? Can we all be experts and not average, or are we just cheapening our language and making the very field of PR/SM more blurry than it’s already become?

In the meantime, I’ll be not proclaiming myself an expert on anything, only a student.