Ansatte i norske bedrifter kunne i de sosiale medienes første fase feste hjemme alene. Men nå som næringslivets strenge pappaer er kommet hjem, trengs nye regler. Men hvor strenge? Hvordan bør norske bedriftsledere håndtere de ansattes bruk av sosiale medier? Og hva gjør vi som ansatte?

Ryggmargsrefleksen til mange bedriftsledere er å innføre strenge rutiner og retningslinjer for bruken av sosiale medier. Det er jo gjennom rutiner og retningslinjer bedriftsledere bruker å skaffe seg kontroll. Så hvorfor skal det ikke fungere også for sosiale medier?

Det er ikke lett å skille den private og den profesjonelle rollen. Når jeg er ute i private sammenhenger og blir spurt om Geelmuyden.Kiese, blir jeg spurt som om jeg var Hans Geelmuyden selv. Enhver som har sett Hans vet at det ikke er det lange blonde håret mitt som gjør at vi blir forvekslet. Det er neppe støvlettene, skjørtet eller kåpen min heller. Grunnen til at vi forveksles er nok heller det at vi er ansatt i samme bedrift. Det faktum kan ikke sosiale medier endre på.

Den nye mediehverdagen krever økt bevissthet om rollen som både ansatt og privatperson. Da jeg skrev under ansettelseskontrakten forpliktet jeg meg til å være lojal mot bedriften. Derfor trenger lederne mine ikke henge over meg når jeg skriver denne bloggteksten. For la oss ikke glemme at sosiale medier ikke endrer på alminnelig profesjonalitet. I sosiale medier kan en som ansatt ikke ta seg hvilke friheter som helst. Bedriftslederne kan heller ikke innføre diktatoriske retningslinjer for de ansattes bruk og engasjement i sosiale medier.

Aftenposten uttalte under en debatt arrangert av NONA (Norwegian Online News Organization) at de har tre prinsipper for de ansattes bruk av sosiale medier. Først og fremst er Aftenposten grunnleggende positive til at de ansatte engasjerer seg i sosiale medier. Dernest forventer de to ting:
- At de ansatte ivaretar sin faglige integritet
- At de ansatte er lojale mot bedriften

Forklaringen til Aftenpostens representant er kanskje den klokeste og enkleste måten å forklare hva bedriftsledere bør forvente av sine ansatte, og ikke minst: Hva de ansatte bør tenke over når de opptrer i sosiale medier.

Med gjensidig respekt og profesjonalitet kan bedriftsledere og ansatte delta på samme fest. Vi må bare passe litt nøyere på hva vi gjør. Du vil jo ikke alltid at sjefen skal finne ut at du blogger i arbeidstiden, tross alt…

Ord: Anne Jahr

Check out the Queen of the Queendom and Rebel Starr front lady as the feature artist on the Hip Hop Culture Center’s website.

She’s also been published along with over 100 other powerful womyn…..

Check out Rebel Starr next Saturday at SouthPaw

After our fun-filled and relatively stress-free first day in Rome, we had a solid plan of attack for Day 2 of our Roman Holiday: a trip to Santa Maria Maggiore (which we could see from our room), a stop at the nearby (and famed) Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and a bit of shopping followed by an evening pub crawl at the foot of the Spanish Steps.

The Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore sat right down the street from our hotel. So close, in fact, that we overlooked in on day one. Although it’s clearly an amazing structure, we had no idea that it was such an old and holy site. The inside is said to date back to roughly the 400s and the Borghese tomb sits on the premises.

After our quick stop here, we started our journey to the Trevi Fountain, about 20 minutes walking from our hotel. Although I hadn’t really known what to anticipate, I have to say that the Trevi Fountain was one of my all-time favorite parts of the trip. The structure is absolutely breathtaking — pictures really can’t do it justice. It’s massive (85 feet high and 65 feet wide)!

It is said that if you toss a coin into the Trevi Fountain, your return to Rome will be a swift one:

There are loads of touristy stores around the fountain, so I was able to snag some super cool gifts for my family nearby [if you guys are reading this, expect some cool Roman gifts for the holidays!] After hitting up the Trevi, we headed north to the Spanish Steps. Although neither of us really knew what to expect from the famed steps, we discovered an interesting mix of art — not at all what I had expected!

Apparently they’re dubbed the Spanish Steps because they’re near the Spanish Embassy. All seems to make sense now! After, we enjoyed loads of delicious sangria and pizza and people-watched before heading home for a quick nap before our evening outing.

That evening (after a much-needed power nap), we jumped on the Metro to the Spanish Steps to meet up with a pub crawl group. Unfortunately, the pub crawl was 25 Euros (more than we really wanted to spend) and seemed to be plagued by legal-by-European-standards-18-year-olds from the US. In lieu, we cabbed it to nearby Campo di Fiore, a little piazza that houses a number of fun pubs and restaurants. We decided upon a placed called Magnolia and ended up spending hours there munching on bruschetta and focaccia and talking with a 91-year-old Roman that we referred to as nona (grandma). She had been living in the area for all of her 91 years and had been dining at Magnolia every day for lunch and dinner!

All in all, we had a fun-filled, relaxed day and saved our energy for our trip to Vatican city, Castel Sant’Angelo and the streets of Rome on Sunday. Stay tuned to see pictures of the Vatican and some of Michaelangelo’s amazingness!

Denne blogposten har jeg skrevet på NONA, der jeg er blitt styremedlem, men det er uansett såpass nyttig at jeg like gjerne postet linken her og.

Altså: Slik lager du passord som er sikre, unike og enkle å huske!

En nuestra caminata frente de la Basílica de San Marcos, encontramos el famoso Campanario de San Marcos, que con sus 97 metros de altura se ha vuelto en un ícono de Venecia. En lo más alto del campanario se encuentra una estatua del Arcángel Gabriel, una estatua de 3 metros de altura y con grandes alas que hacen que la figura entera gire cuando los vientos soplan con fuerza. Los venecianos creen que cuando el ángel gira y se encuentra en dirección hacia la basílica, significa que pronto habrá agua alta. Dentro del campanario se encuentran 5 campanas que son muy famosas, casi tanto como el mismo campanario. Cada campana tiene su nombre y desempeña una función específica. Así, por ejemplo, la Nona sonaba en la novena hora; la Marangona sonaba en la mañana y en la tarde marcando el inicio y el fin de un día de trabajo; la Maleficio sonaba para anunciar a aquellos criminales condenados a muerte; y por último, la Trottiera y la Pregadi que llamaban a los jueces y senadores a tomar sus asientos en el Palacio Ducal. Qué espectáculo se capta desde esta gran torre hacia toda Venecia y el mar.
http://www.dondeviajar.es/ciudades/venecia-la-ciudad-de-los-canales.html

Um CD comum tem espaço para 74 minutos de música porque seus criadores (as empresas Sony e Philips) estipularam que um único disco deveria ser suficiente para conter toda a Nona Sinfonia de Beethoven.

. ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ .

Un CD normal tiene espacio para 74 minutos de música porque sus creadores (as empresas Sony y Philips), estipularon que un solo disco debería ser suficiente para contener la Novena Sinfonía de Beethoven.

Em conversa com meu avô Antonio Jovelli arrecadei as poucas informações que ele tem sobre meu tataravô Nicodemos Jovelli.

Nicodemos Jovelli veio da Itália em 1947 com Nona Jovelli, sua esposa. Ainda não tinham filhos e vieram para Botucatu trabalhar na Fazenda Lageado.

Ainda não há informação sobre a data de falecimento de Nicodemos Jovelli ou Nona, mas já se sabe que ele faleceu em Conchas após longos anos morando em Botucatu ou São Manuel.

 Em breve conseguirei informações sobre a Fazenda Lageado com o Sr. Candeias da Secretaria de Turismo de Botucatu. 55 (14) 3882-1315

Faleceu SEBASTIANA GONCALVES CASTELLANI, aos 80 anos, era viúva de Antônio Castellani.

Era carinhosamente conhecida por NONA.Recentemente perdeu um de seus filhos, nosso amigo Célio Victor Castellani.

Nona era natural de Itajubá, mas viveu a maior parte de sua vida em Santa Rita do Sapucaí.

Deixa as filhas Lenita (Cachoeirinha) e Maria Aparecida (Campo Grande MT).

Seu velório está acontecendo na Funerária Santa Rita, de onde sairá amanhã (quarta-feira) o cortejo às 10h para o Cemitério Municipal.

A toda família enlutada os nossos sinceros sentimentos de pesar.

No, my title isn’t a reference to Robert Louis Stevenson, or the 1935 pop song recorded by Louis and Wingy Manone.  It’s how I think of the back quadrant of the antiques-and-collectables shop called CAROUSEL on Warren Street in Hudson, New York.  In a previous post, I happily showed off the Jelly Roll Morton HMV 78 I had uncovered . . . but I hadn’t bothered to look down.  What I found was two boxes of 10″ and 12″ 78s and a few 10″ lps — many of them suggesting that their previous owner had far-ranging and excellent jazz taste.  Here are my latest acquisitions, arranged in rough chronological order for the purists out there . . .

Let’s begin with some classic acoustic blues: two Columbias by a famous pair:

This one was fairly dull, but I didn’t expect roaring improvisation.

Well, we live in hope. SUSAN has some faux-hot playing in its final chorus, where potential buyers might not be scared away, but nothing memorable.

I recall this tune from Mildred Bailey’s little-girl version, but don’t know the vocalist.

This 78 is cracked, but this side’s a real prize.  With the song taken at a slower tempo than usual, there’s a good deal of growling from Bubber Miley in the last minute of the record, out in the open and as part of the ensemble.  A find!

What first caught my eye was the lovely UK label . . . then when I saw this and the next ones were mint Bings from 1933, I couldn’t resist.  And Eddie Lang is added to the Royal Canadians.  Legend has it that the British pressings are quiet and well-behaved.  Is this true?

Not a memorable song, but I can hear Bing becoming pastoral as I type these words.

And my favorite of the four sides — a jaunty naughty song about love-addiction, and perhaps other things, too.  I always knew that “I must have you every day / As regularly as coffee or tea,” didn’t entirely refer to Twining’s Earl Grey.

Now you’re talking my language!  We jump forward into the Forties (I left aside a number of familiar Commodores and Keynotes, because of the economy) — with a record I’d only heard on an Onyx lp compilation.  Here’s the original 12″ vinyl pressing, with “Theodocius,” as Mildred called him on a 1935 record, who was under contract to Musicraft at the time.  A wonderful quintet!

And a tune that only one other jazz group (Benny Morton-Red Allen, 1933) ever recorded.

For whatever reason, 10″ jazz lps are even more scarce than 78s, so this one was a real surprise — even without its cover.

Just as good!

The other side of the ideological divide, but equally thrilling.

Did Mingus overdub his bass lines on this issue, I wonder?

Take it on faith that side 2 is exactly the same except for the altered digit.  Now, to conclude — a pair of oddities!

I can see myself listening to this two-sided piece of history once, if that — but the near-mint record and the original sleeve made it an essential purchase.  I’ll also send this photo to my friend, poet Amy King, who isn’t abdicating her throne any time soon.

Finally, a real gamble and entirely irresistible for that reason.  The logical half of the brain says that what looks like “Hawk” will turn out to be “Hank,” singing about his girl Nona, accompanying himself on the musical saw.  The hopeful side of the brain says “Coleman Hawkins, of course . . . “  Stay tuned!  My next purchase, obviously, has to be a three-speed turntable.

And two antique-store stories, both cheering.  In Carousel, the gentleman behind the counter saw me come puffing up with my armload of precious 78s.  I could be wrong, but I don’t think the store does a brisk business in 78s, so he was happy to see me.  “I have twelve,” I said, with that hopeful expectant canine look on my face that says, silently, “Can you give me a break on the price, especially if I don’t haggle with you?”  His intuition was splendid.  He grinned at me and said, “Looks like ten to me.”  I was pleasantly flustered and said, conspiratorially, “You knew I was hoping for some sort of discount, didn’t you?” and his smile got bigger.  “No,” he said, “I just count better than you do.”  Very sweet indeed!

And a few days before this, the Beloved and I had spent some time in a store in an odd location — where, I don’t exactly remember.  Its owner was even more amiable, even when we couldn’t find a thing to buy in his place, including gardening books and a small stash of vinyl records.  But we had an exceedingly amusing and thoughtful conversation with him about the changing nature of the area, and how it affected local businesses.  We exchanged friendly good wishes at the end, and went outside to get in the car.  A few beats later, we saw him emerge from the store.  “Did I tell you my clown joke?” he said, and we said no, he hadn’t — hoping for the best but expecting something positively weird or terrifying.  (One never knows, do one?)  “Two cannibals are eating a clown, and one of them looks at the other and says, suspiciously, ‘Does this taste  funny to you?”  It caught me by surprise and, after a moment for cogitation, we were laughing loudly.  Now you can tell it to someone else.

Um mosaico de experiências e descobertas em que as fronteiras entre os desejos se desvaneçam… Assim é na Semana!

Clique ao lado e baixe sua foto.

Abraços em todos!

Núcleo de Comunicação

By renato

Gender: Feminine
Origin: Biblical Hebrew
Meaning: “grace.”
(ANN; AHN). (ANN-uh; AHN-nah). (HANN-uh; HAHN-nah)

Anne is possibly one of the quintessential classic English and French female names. Prior to the 18th-century, it seems that every other girl born in England was either named Anne, Jane or Mary. There were several British and French queens who bore this simplistic moniker, including the ill fated Anne Boleyn, the mother of Elizabeth I. The history of Anne is rather long and complicated. It was foremost popularized through the cult of St. Anne, a legendary figure who was said to be the mother of the Virgin Mary and the grandmother of Christ. In Brittany, the name became especially popular because it happened to coincide with the name of an ancient Celtic goddess, her cult being replaced by St. Anne’s. In fact, it was borne by one Breton Princess, Anne of Brittany.

The name was introduced into Britain by the French-Normans after the invasion in 1066. Previously, there had been a minor Saxon king named Anna, though many sources believe that Anna was just a shortened version of a longer, more complicated Anglo-Saxon male name that has been lost to history.

Other than the apocryphal saint, the name Anne can be traced directly back to the Bible. In the New Testament, it is the name of a prophetess who predicts the Crucifixion of Christ to Mary. Anne/Anna are the latinate forms of the early Hebrew Channah חַנָּה usually rendered as Hannah meaning “grace.” It is borne in the Old Testament by the faithful mother of the prophet, Samuel. Hannah has always been popular among Jewish families, but was virtually unheard of among non-Jewish families before the Reformation, except in some cases where it may have been used as a diminutive form of Johanna, spelled Hanna.

It was the Byzantines who had introduced the Anna form to the world, making it popular throughout Eastern and Southern Europe. It was a very popular name among the Byzantine royal family and it was borne by the majestic Anna of Byzantium.

Anna may be the more melodic form of the bunch, but Anne’s minimalistic qualities are charming. Short, to the point, no frills. It’s not a bad name, though it does lack some spice, which is why parents are probably more attracted to its more exotic alternatives. In fact, Anne only comes in at # 499 in the top 1000 female names of the United States. It is safe to say, however, that she is very much loved in the middle name spot. Meanwhile, Anna comes in at # 25.

With the popularity of Little House on the Prairie and Victorian granny names the last decade, (a la Emma, Emily, Lily etc), it is no wonder that Hannah has become rather popular in recent years. In 97, she came in at # 2. She has dropped down a bit since then, but still comes in high at # 17. However, just the year before, she was still in the top 10, coming in at # 9. I truly wonder why she drastically dropped 8 places in just one year.

We could probably write a whole novel on all of Anna/Anne’s variations. If you are looking for a far more exotic alternative, here is a little bullet point list I have created for you.

Latinate Forms

Germanic Forms

Slavonic Forms

Baltic Forms

Other forms include:

• Annoula-this is a Greek diminutive form of Anna, pronounced (ahn-NOO-lah), I thought perhaps that somebody out there might find it appealing as an independent given name.
• Anikó-this Hungarian form is exotic and frill-less. It has appeared in Hungarian history since the days of Attila the Hun.
• Annuska-a popular Hungarian diminutive form sometimes used as an independent given name (own-NOOSH-ko)
• Panni-a popular Hungarian diminutive form (PAHN-nee)

Of course, how could we ever forget the popular diminutive forms of Annie and Nan.

SOUTH SAN FRANCISCO, Tuesday –

Something happened at Nona’s house that, if Nona were still alive, would have sent her into an all out murderous frenzy.

And all we could do, as her family, was laugh.

A full house watched that cat waddle in the front door of the house my grandmother and grandfather (Nona and Nono) owned for 60 years. A place where only venturous dustmites and suicidal house pets roamed. The cat didn’t just peer into the house — oh, no. This cat had guts. It wandered past the crowd of gawkers in the living room and toward the bedrooms, where I can only assume it ran into Vicky Aschow (my mom’s friend who despises cats more than anyone), or the only other uncivilized being in the building that day.

It scampered for the door, back the way it came, where it was stopped by Nick Wester and I. Nick calmed the scared cat before dropping, realizing the cat had committed another sin against Nona’s legacy — entering the house with dirty feet.

I attempted to pet it and after mild success paid the price with a violent assaulting my hand. It finally ran off. It was done with the people in the house and it had proven its point.

Nona despised cats for most of her 87 years. She hated a few things with the rage of a Spanish Catholic – Cats, lightning, fish and Satan were the ones I knew about.

Frogs too, apparently. But that’s for another time. And I didn’t find out about it until Tuesday.

It wasn’t until Nono died that she came to an uneasy peace with house cats. This manifested by letting the other gray lady of my mother’s house, my cat Sparky, lay at her feet. From then on, she dealt with the cats uneasily, but like she did animals she liked. Stern, but caring.

But, when she lived on Fir Avenue, her house an animal-free fortress. A place where only the most foolhardy of dustmites and insects ventures. She strove to keep an immaculate house from top to bottom, family room to bathroom. Cats, I can only assume, were the villain because they shed everywhere and clawed the furniture (actions that would have earned the cat a one-way trip to the garbage can.)

But, on this day, she wasn’t there to shoo the cat back out the door. It was the last confirmation that she was gone.