An outtake from the Beatles’ “Abbey Road” cover shoot, courtesy Beatles.com – As a kid, I’d often listen to this album on repeat during long car rides (save for “Octopus’s Garden,” anyway, which I admit I skipped every time.)

To say that I am a music “fan” might be a bit of an understatement. When it comes to artists I fell in love with when I first truly discovered music at age 11, the full word “fanatic” is more appropriate. There was a point in my youth when I could hear a few notes from any song in the Beatles or Queen discographies and easily Name That Tune.

As an adult, I’ve settled into a more subtle appreciation of the bands that introduced me to audial bliss. Though I can no longer Name That Tune when it comes to the songs I don’t particularly like, I do still go through cycles where I will listen to no other artists for weeks. This is probably a little strange, given that my musical tastes are extremely varied now.

Last week, my friend and fellow blogger, Sheena Barnett, sent out a Facebook message to several musicians, acquaintances and friends asking us to name our favorite Beatles tracks.

I quickly realized that this was going to be difficult. Sure, I can name some songs I don’t like: There aren’t many that come to mind, so that makes it easy. But a favorite?

Immediately, a dozen tracks flooded into my head all at once.

So, I took a rather nerdy approach to select a “favorite.” Here’s what I told Sheena for her blog entry on the topic:

I’ve never been able to pick a favorite anything. When you ask me to name my favorite Beatles song, you might as well be asking which hair on my head I love the most. So, in order to participate in this fun survey, I had to get creative.

I opened Excel and listed about 40 songs that I love, any one of which being my “favorite” depending on my mood and the day’s events. I then entered a formula so that the program would pick a “favorite” for me.

I know, that’s one pretty clinical procedure for something as emotional as music, but there you have it.

So at this moment, my favorite song is… *drumroll* “Norwegian Wood.” I love this song for the melodies, the harmonies, and for George’s masterful use of the sitar. He takes the quintessentially Indian instrument and brings it forth to fit naturally with the Beatles’ music. Dislikes include that it’s about John’s fooling around on his first wife and that the main character (according to Paul) sets a woman’s flat on because she made him sleep in the bath, but those matters aside, it’s a very solid tune with a lot of soul behind it.

But most honestly, my favorite Beatles song tends to be whichever Beatles song I happen to be listening to at the moment.

Yes, I programmed an Excel spreadsheet to select a favorite Beatles tune for me. How else was I supposed to pick one?

Tell me about your relationships with music: Do you have favorite songs and artists, or do you find it as difficult as I do to choose? Which bands and performers really “speak” to you, and why?

It’s actually not this simple.

I took the challenge a step further and did away with unnecessary Web surfing altogether. I even banned myself from using my iPhone for checking e-mail in the car. (I couldn’t get rid of e-mail completely as I needed it for work.) Since my husband, Steve, does all of the driving, I didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I could spend entire car rides playing with my phone.

I decided to chronicle my experiences as an internet luddite. Surprisingly, I learned a lot about myself in the process:

Day 1
8:57 a.m. – We’re in the car on the way to work and my fingers are twitching like I’m some sort of addict. (And maybe I am.) This is prime e-mail-checking time and my hands don’t know what to do with their new-found freedom from iPhone enslavement.

Suddenly, I realize I haven’t Tweeted about the blackout experiment, so I start digging through my purse. How can such a small bag be so cavernous? Finally, I find my phone and start typing as fast as I can. Like Indiana Jones grabbing his hat before the stone door shut forever in Temple of Doom, I manage to get my Tweet in before my 9 a.m. cut off. It’s going to be a long 48 hours.

11:02 a.m. – It’s been a busy morning, but I’m back at my desk now. I’m starting to realize just how much of my typical day is spent goofing off online, and it’s kind of scary. So how on Earth do I manage to stay so productive? I have no idea. I just know that I’ve been plugged into the Internet since I was 14–that’s half of my life–and it didn’t prevent me from graduating college with high honors, researching/writing a 153-page masters thesis in less than a year, or gaining some pretty successful career opportunities at NOVA Online and Boston University.

I’m not even bored right now and I definitely have work to do, yet the compulsion to “just check” all of my different sites of interest hits me every time I sit down. In a split-second, my mind thinks “Let’s go to Facebook–wait, I can’t do that; Twitter! Nope, can’t do that either; Flickr! Sorry, not happening…” etc.

My phone is ringing. Saved by the bell.

12:16 p.m.. – It’s almost lunchtime now, and one of my clerks is standing at my door, going over this morning’s crazy events. (At our hotel, every morning is sprinkled with a touch of crazy.) I look up at her as she talks, neither of us realizing that I’m absentmindedly typing “facebook.com” into Firefox’s address bar. I get as far as entering in my password before I notice what I’m doing.

What’s wrong with me?

I exit the browser as a guilty feeling builds in the pit of my stomach. That was close.

For the record, I do realize how absurd this sounds.

2:05 p.m. – I notice that every time I sit down to get a little computer work done, my cursor drifts toward the Firefox icon. It’s happened at least 10 times today already–probably more. I’ve actually stopped counting.

Steve shot this with my iPhone. I fully admit that in a moment of weakness, I asked him to upload it to his Facebook account. He declined.

I’m beginning to see that my problem isn’t really the conscious desire to connect with people, but something more deeply ingrained in who I’ve become. I’ve spent most of my formative years online. The compulsion to surf is like muscle memory, hardly any different from walking around without realizing on any conscious level that I’ve even stood up.

I’ve been following the same internet routine for 14 years. The sites have changed, but the habits remain the same. I wonder if I’m now hardwired to be a geek.

3:42 p.m. – My subconscious is getting clever. I’ve had a little bit of down time this afternoon and without realizing it, I’ve been taking actions that, if completed, would require me to log into Facebook. About 20 minutes ago, I started thinking to myself, “I’ve got some time–why not experiment with some potentially useful code for my blog?”

It just so happens that I’ve been planning on implementing Facebook Connect features that would allow people to comment on News-Geek via their Facbook accounts. This would prevent users from having to go through the hoops of registering or retyping all of their personal information to post to this site. It’s all about convenience, right?

Wrong. Well, sort of. It’s partially about convenience, but today it’s also about having an excuse to log into Facebook. I can’t implement this feature without getting an application programing interface (API) key, a unique Facebook-generated identifier that will allow users to interact with my site. I’ll have to play with this functionality another time.

5:45 p.m. – It’s after work and we’re running errands. I still don’t miss my social networking sites, but I do find myself thinking about them frequently. Every time I get into the car, I have to remind myself to not reach for my phone. So, I stare out the window–and wow, it looks like there’s a new tattoo/massage/goth attire/head shop just outside the really nice part of town. How the hell did that get there? And when?

I thought that being plugged in kept me informed, in the know, aware–and it does. It keeps me in touch in the world. But what about my own backyard?

6:28 p.m. – I cooked with quinoa for the first time tonight. I have the urge to take a picture of the tasty meal with my phone and to Tweet it, but only as a passing thought. Current realization: I am incredibly lame.

9:45 p.m. – I’ve enjoyed a nice, quiet evening with Steve and our puppy, Herbie. I’m grateful because I’ve learned I’m not so attached to the internet that these nights aren’t common. In fact, it really feels like any other night, only I’m not mindlessly playing with my iPhone every few minutes. For the first time today, I don’t feel like an addict.

Day 2
6:00 a.m. – We’re going into Nashville today and I don’t want to get up. My usual morning ritual begins with my alarm, followed by at least 15 minutes of Web-surfing via my phone as I wipe the sleep from my eyes with my free hand. Unfortunately, staring at the ceiling doesn’t have quite the same waking effect. I begin wonder how impractical it would be to get a coffee maker for my nightstand.

6:45 a.m. – It’s hard to disconnect when so many aspects of your real life and social-media life are intertwined. I haven’t given up e-mail because I have a lot of work information saved in messages and drafts.

I notice that there’s a “3″ beside the Google Buzz link underneath where it says “Inbox.” That’s way too convenient. I don’t click on “Buzz,” though, because it’s the Valhalla of social networking. It all too easily aggregates your activity on sites like Twitter, YouTube, and Flickr, and shares it with other Buzz’ers (and vice versa).

When did we all go meta? And why?

I understand the need to reach our entire potential audience, but no one cares (or should care) enough about what I say to be willing to read the phrase “I just had my first glass of soy milk since leaving Boston” three times across three different sites.

1:30 p.m. – I see an NRA poster that reads “Insure Your Gun Rights!” I cringe. My inner grammar Nazi wants to take a picture with my phone and upload it to Facebook along with some sort of snarky “fail” caption.

Once again, it’s more reflex than desire. I realize how obnoxious it is to nitpick a poster. I don’t even dislike the NRA or disagree with a lot of what their less paranoid members stand for. I find out later that insure/ensure faux pas wasn’t a one-time mistake. They’ve got the phrase all over some reading materials and this Web site.

I twitch a little.

I wonder: In an addiction scenario, would my iPhone be the dealer or just an enabler?

4:42 p.m. – It’s a long drive home, and in between conversations with my husband, I wonder what my frenemies are up to. (A frenemy is someone who pretends to be a friend but is actually an enemy. I argue that in the social-networking world, the term should extend to rivals who maintain a continued interest in one’s life or vice versa, regardless of whether the two parties even speak. Online, you don’t have to talk to someone to legally and secretly keep tabs on them.)

We are the millennial generation, sometimes called the “net” generation. I believe that we all passively stalk people from our past, simply because we can. The only difference between us and creepsters with restraining orders against them is our motivation. While conventional “stalkers” are driven by obsession and a side of chemical imbalance, we’re just curious. Any malicious intent on our part could be likened to what you might feel during a class reunion: We want to ensure that we’re happier and more successful than our frenemies, and we want to see if they’re as lame/sketchy/weird/mean as they were when we still spoke to them.

In the interest of full, embarrassing disclosure, I admit that I have a couple of frenemies I check up on every few months. I know for a fact that many of my friends, acquaintances, former students and employees do the same.

I’m fairly certain that this is why the various social-networking sites won’t add a “see who’s looking at your profile” feature. Can you imagine the drama that would ensue if you suddenly learned that your proctologist, who isn’t even your Facebook friend, looks at your account more than your wife does?

10:30 p.m. – I’ve enjoyed another great evening in with Steve and Herbie. I don’t really want to go online at this point.

Day 3
7:24 a.m. – I wake up with the realization that this hiatus is almost over. I feel guilty, like I really shouldn’t go back to life as I knew it two days ago. If you do the math, a minute here and a minute there can add up to hours wasted online.

I want to keep fasting, but I also want to publish this post and share it across my various social-networking accounts. I want to connect with others out there who can relate to me and to this entry.

I’ll compromise: I will go back to my sites, but I’ll limit my use. There will be no more idle surfing in the car, and conversations with real, physical people will have to trump internet usage altogether. This means that if I’m at a restaurant with my husband, I will not grab my iPhone at any point as we wait for our meal.

12:55 p.m. – I’m publishing this blog entry. I haven’t been to Facebook or Twitter yet. I suspect I’ll have a lot to catch up on, but I think I’ll have some lunch and pick up around the house first.

I was interviewed last week for a feature in Mississippi’s largest-circulation newspaper, The Clarion Ledger. LaReeca Rucker contacted me for the piece, which was to focus on the increasing popularity of personalized products, when she learned that I had used HeadBobble.com to create Bobblehead versions of my fiancé (Steve) and myself. You can read my brief commentary on love, personalization, and the fun of bobbles below, but first here’s the article:

Getting personal: Products touting individuality appeal to the masses
LaReeca Rucker
lrucker@jackson.gannett.com

Ole Miss graduate Rima Chaddha and her fiance, Steve Mycynek, are fans of the NBC television show The Office and the show’s quirky characters, Dwight and Angela.

Click on either image to enlarge

“One year for Valentine’s Day, Angela gets Dwight the perfect gift – a mini bobblehead of himself,” said Chaddha, who did the same as a first dating anniversary gift for Steve.

Using photographs submitted to HeadBobble.com, customized figurines were created that look eerily similar to the couple. Mycynek holds a golf club, and Chaddha, who studies ninjitsu, wears a martial arts uniform.

Despite her effort to find the perfect gift, Mycynek topped Chaddha’s offering, presenting something a little more personal – an engagement ring.

Today, it’s all about (insert your name here.) Americans are getting personal with products, and you can find everything from customized Bobbleheads to DNA portraits.

Several Mississippi businesses allow customers to showcase their individuality. The Jackson store Fresh Ink offers personalized stationary, decals, towels, money clips and a variety of bags that can be monogrammed.

“We even have cutting boards with initials,” said manager Allison Ertz.

Emily Hassel, manager of the Jackson store Turkoyz, said engraved initial necklaces are popular.

“A lot of movie stars are wearing them,” she said. “They were in the new movie 27 Dresses. Catherine Heigl was wearing a ‘J’ for Jane.”

Stacy Stovall, owner of the Jackson store Monogram Magic, said she bought the business nine years ago when it was a luxury to have an item monogrammed, and since then, the demand has steadily risen.

Click on either image to enlarge

“It does make a $5 gift look like a $25 gift,” she said, adding that the store carries personalized car mats, among other products.

“When I saw the car mats, I thought, ‘What will they come up with next?’ ”

At MyKleenexTissue.com, you can upload a photo and create a customized box of Kleenex for $4.99 plus shipping. M&Ms offers custom-printed candies. NikeID.com lets you be the shoe designer. Clinique offers perfume bottles featuring your favorite pictures. And at ColorWarepc.com, you can customize your computer, gaming console, digital music player, cell phone and other products.

Adrian Salamunovic, 32, co-founded DNA 11 three years ago with friend Nazim Ahmed, a 31-year-old geneticist. They started their business in a 600-square-foot apartment in Canada and now operate a multimillion business selling DNA, Fingerprint and KISS Portraits to 52 countries and all 50 states.

Salamunovic saw a brochure of technical DNA images, thought they resembled modern art, and an idea was born. He asked Ahmed to “take a picture” of his own genetic code, and a new personalized product soon hit the market.

The company also creates lip and fingerprint portraits that resemble Andy Warhol pop art. You can even send a copy of your signature, and they’ll add it to the piece.

“The art is very now, very modern and it’s very personal,” Salamunovic said. “Whether it’s the DNA of a loved one or a pet, that’s what makes it so unique.”

Personalization is about distinguishing yourself from the pack, Salamunovic said.

“We’ve really noticed an interesting trend,” he said. “What’s happening is, in the world of cookie-cutter homes and generic cars in suburbia, people are trying to differentiate themselves from one another.

“The bigger and more compact the city, where you’ve got thousands of people stacked on top of each other, the more we sell.”

Chaddha, who lives in Boston where she produces Web content for the PBS science television shows NOVA and NOVA scienceNOW, understands the trend.

“We’re saturated with things to buy, and the variety we’re offered is insane,” she said. “Remember how the first iPods were all white, but not the bright white we see today? Now each of the several varieties of iPods has its own line of colors.

“I think people get addicted to that. Everyone wants to stand out. And why not?

“To get philosophical, I think it gives some people more of a sense of identity … Once you have everything, the next step seems to be ‘How can I be different?’”

The extended version of what I told Rucker is basically this: I feel that personalized gifts aren’t limited to (yet certainly cater to) a very specific demographic–people who are young, professional, and who have fewer worries in life compared to those with families and more prominent financial burdens. They tend to live in cities in similar buildings with similar amenities, and they tend to have similar hobbies and interests. (For a tongue-in-cheek list of these hobbies and interests, see Stuff White People Like. One interest is irony, hence the racially exclusive name of the site.) It seems that once you have “everything,” the only thing left to do is to stand out, lest ennui set in. Think Edward Norton’s character in Fight Club, only taken down a notch.

As for the American version of The Office, anyone fan can tell you that neither Dwight nor Angela is the epitome of love, romance, or feelings in general, at least on his or her own. As the more likable character, Pam, put it when talking about Angela’s decision to date another Office nuisance named Andy: “Angela and Andy might actually make a good couple… but I couldn’t do that to Dwight. Or Angela… or Andy.”

But here’s the kicker: In the scenes where it was just the two of them, Dwight and Angela made a great couple. Their affection for one another came through in a very real way, at least for prime-time TV. And it reminded me of the sweet “secrets” that so many close couples have–their inside jokes, their stolen glances, even their pet names (Badger and Monkey, in this case). Love is a very raw emotion. It can be as cruel as it is magical. But it is, in my humble view, a feeling and an experience to be cherished.

And so, the bobbleheads. I had ours made for Steve because I admired the way these two characters were able to portray the honesty of love, and because I knew that Steve felt the same way.

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