Messing With New Media

Craftster.org: The Ultimate Social Software

2005-11-21T14:03:00.000-08:00

After reading Clay Shirky's analysis of social software, I started thinking about the social software that I most frequently use (outside of AIM)--craftster.org

Craftster.org is a rather primitive moderated discussion board on crafts and crafting. Moderators, appointed by the creator of the site named Leah, keep posts on-topic and appropriate within different subgroups of the site. You can gain membership by filling out a free application form to get a username and password. Your membership keeps track of messages, replies made to your posts, and new posts that you haven't seen. When a member posts, their username, user icon, number of posts, the date they became a member on the forum, and links to other social software they use (IM, e-mail, etc.). You can also donate money to craftster.org to become a "Friend of Craftster," which comes without extra privledge but their "friend status" is part of their public profile and user info shown on their posts.

Members and official moderators work together to moderate the forum. Members or moderators notice off-topic posts, which are then directed to the appropriate location or pushed to the bottom of the discussion board. The most relevant posts (posts that are most frequently viewed) are kept at the top of each subcategory.

A lot of people on the forum lurk before officially joining the forum. Most only join after completing a new craft that they want to share with the forum. There is no benefit to joining the forum and officially participating in the discussion, rather than lurking, if you have no project to share. People often describe feeling anxious about posting their work because of the quality of the work generally displayed on the forum. Some members on the forum has better reputations for their crafts. These people have generally started a topic or post that always remains the most popular topic (or in the top 10) for a while. One member, Jordy, created a pattern for a DIY bag that has remained the most popular subtopic in the "Purses, Wallets, and Bags" category. The "Jordy Bag" is now infamous with the crowd.

But although I've participated in the forum for three or so years, I've never thought about any of this. My almost daily use doesn't prompt these questions of usability and effectiveness of communication and community. Rather, I become ecstatic when the site now hosts pictures to make posting with pictures (the only effective form of communication for us) easier. Why don't I think critically about the relationship I have with craftster.org? Is it laziness? Or is it just me?

Ah, I do love dry humor.

2005-11-20T18:17:00.000-08:00

Doc Searls and David Weinberger's text was poignant--and a little funny, too.

Google, The Tamer

2005-11-19T22:29:00.000-08:00

The NY Times is giving Google a lot of credit. Is it deserved?

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/20/business/yourmoney/20digi.html

Napster's Solution is Wackster

2005-11-19T22:18:00.000-08:00

The NY Times ran an article about Napster, copyright law, and the internet. Seems to follow our latest discussions.

I like the positive spin... Do I believe its really as utopian as it describes? Not really. I think Lessig describes how "wins" such as these aren't attacking the structural problems in our copyright laws in his book, Free Culture.

Here's the article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/20/business/yourmoney/20fanning.html

The Thing About Fiction

2005-11-02T13:34:00.000-08:00

After experiencing Manovich's hypertext experiment yesterday, I felt a little annoyed. Creating a database of information to create computer-generated fiction is a feat, no doubt. But is it fiction?

I watched an episode of the Family Guy a month or so ago where Stewie makes fun of Brian for Brian's lack of progress on his great American novel. Stewie makes an awkward speech describing the traditional elements of novels:

"How you uh, how you comin' on that novel you're working on? Huh? Gotta a big, uh, big stack of papers there? Gotta, gotta nice litte story you're working on there? Your big novel you've been working on for 3 years? Huh? Gotta, gotta compelling protaganist? Yeah? Gotta obstacle for him to overcome? Huh? Gotta story brewing there? Working on, working on that for quite some time? Huh? (voice getting higher pitched) Yea, talking about that 3 years ago. Been working on that the whole time? Nice little narrative? Beginning, middle, and end? Some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends? At the end your main character is richer from the experience? Yeah? Yeah? (voice returns to normal) No, no, you deserve some time off."

As this is describing a specific type of literature/fiction, I know it's slightly different than Manovich's database, but bear with me.

First, let me work something out--Manovich's narrative, the words of the story, were composed by a human brain. It was then divided up and put into a database, with sounds and image clips, that randomly regenerates the story.

When I think of fiction, I think of communicating a universal human experience, something I believe the most effective forms of fiction communicate. In other words, I believe the human definition of fiction (the ways we define fiction based on experience rather than Webster's) is characterized by connecting to humanity. The database, having a linear narrative created by a human, can sort of achieve this. But, by making aware its computer counterpart, I was unable to think of the fiction as human. It was something else entirely.

What if I hadn't known the images and sections of the narrative were randomly generated by a computer database? I might have connected to it, for sure. But I think my connection to the narrative itself (which, as I said before, was written by a person) was inspired more by human participation than the computer's.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that this project would not exist without the extreme effort, intelligence, creativity, and organization of humans. To me, this means this experiment (trying to create computer-generated narrative that can pass as human-narrative) is incomplete and ineffective. But maybe that's just me.

Bolter, Part Deux

2005-10-05T12:58:00.000-07:00

I'm still thinking about Bolter's explanation of the digital experience.

When I've looked at hypertext so far in our class, I've walked away with a fragmented, almost schitzophrenic feeling. I can't find any conclusive argument or statement, no linear pattern, and no linear point. Basically, I'm totally confused. I walk away frustrated with a bitter taste in my mouth.

But I LOVE hypertext. I'm a web designer--if not for Dreamweaver's "Insert Hyperlink" command, I'm not sure any of the webpages I've created would have been at all useful. So what's my deal with academic hypertext?

Then I remember the Buddhist Philosophy course I took two years ago. The professor was trying to explain a theory of emptiness, but I wasn't following. I wasn't struggling so much over the translation difficulties (the concept necessitated words with no English equivalents, lending to abstract metaphors rather than concrete definitions), but over the argument's circular structure. I never understood it, but my confusion helped articulate the commitment and struggle of the Buddhist student.

Are we living in a linear or a non-linear world? My instinct is to say, "Non-linear, of course. Everything is affected and affects its context, environment, experience, and relationships." Fair enough. But am I living in a world of linear arguments? My education is presented, from K through college, as a series of usually related linear arguments and messages. But if we're living in a non-linear society/sphere, is my real education (my ability to think, process, and understand) obsolete? Is linearity a Western or American phenomenon? Or is linear thinking is more globally pedestrian than I originally thought?

Or perhaps I'm categorizing or reducing my education. Maybe it's just me.

Bolter's Disconnect

2005-10-03T12:46:00.000-07:00

After reading and discussing Bolter's text, I started identifying with his notions on the experience of the analog versus the digital, although with a different opinion.

I think I tried to verbalize this in sixth grade. AOL, specifically its Instant Messenger service, has hit Kennedy Junior High School like a ton of bricks. Anybody who was anybody could quickly translate LOL, ROFL, BRB, and IM me.

I was boyfriend/girlfriend (that's what we called it) with a fellow twelve-year-old, John Paul Mungo. Our extended relationship consisted of lengthy phone or IM conversations. As phones were a limited resource, much of our pre-teen romance was conducted in IM-speak.

We would get into fights and spats, he and I, on this IM medium. My humor has been naturally dry and sarcastic since birth. But tones that explain my words as dry humor, rather than, say, meanness, were lacking in the IM world. IM's replacement for intonation, overall tone, and auditory semiotic signals were its primitive " :) " that have been taken over by gaudy cartoons.

I was also active on a primitive MUDD environment and tried to utilize its solution for the disconnect between internet and physical chat (accompanying conversations with descriptions of how things were to have been said enclosed in double colons-- ::dryly::) in my IM conversations. But who wants to narrate a conversation into a nearly novel-length text when no one will read it again?

One day, I said something dryly that was misconstrued as mean. Before our IM conversation ended, I tried to explain how emotions can't be communicated over IM. The next say in Junior High, neither one of us wanted to approach the other, partly because it was a difficult situation in our young lives and partly because we were embarrassed that an IM conversation affected us so much.

Our argument was really a miscommunication. But I'm not sure we ever spoke again.

Bolter seemed to write positively about the digital experience. And though my intimate relationship with the internet is nearly eleven years strong, I do remember how limited I felt and how the internet's flaws can feel so prominent.

But hey, maybe that's just me.

(Vannevar) Bush’s America

2005-10-01T14:05:00.000-07:00

I absolutely adored Bush’s early article on the future of information systems. His “memex” seemed like a Rube Goldberg machine, oddly elaborate to the point of becoming comical. But, at its core, Bush’s early ideas expose American preferences for the individual, our centrism, and our willingness to ignore issues of accessibility for the general public.

Individual understanding rather than communal knowledge is found in Bush’s need for organized information systems. He finds it atrocious that American development, specifically scientific and technological development, is slowed down by an inability to read all information in a given field. He finds it necessary that each scientist or developer have constant access to specific bits of information, catalogued for easy access. However, Bush’s need is for the individual to have access to any and all information, rather than a group of scientists or all those in a field of study. His memex is completely stationary, meaning his information system wasn’t meant to transmit information among parties, opening a line for communication and communal thought. If a scientist stocked his memex, thinking he had all the information there was to have, would he stop looking? How often would he look for new information from other related research? Would his thoughts be limited by the amount of information contained in his memex? Might a group of brains, with a breadth of perspectives, be more helpful and more valuable?

The physical limitations of the memex also display an acceptance of centralized information systems. The scientist, tied to his memex, cannot leave a local area if he wishes to access the information in his memex. As Ong and others have discussed, a tool like a memex might make the brain lazy, not needing to remember information since it can be easily recalled. But what if learning takes place away from the bulky memex? Will the scientist be able to process this data without his memex? Should our learning be centralized, in both ways of thinking (Bush believes the memex will store traditional academic information, like books or photographs, limiting the type of information) and where we can think and process it?

And will these expensive and bulky systems be made accessible to the general public? The information, still fastened to the literary world, cannot be understood by illiterate populations in need of knowledge. The memex itself was described as expensive and personal, meaning someone was to own a memex and have the leisure time to collect and store its data. Would a memex be functional in a public library? Is it fair to provide information systems to the elite and educated while ignoring those whose thirst for knowledge remains unquenched?

But while I may “tsk” at Bush’s memex, I understand that our internet, our solution for the information system, is nowhere near perfect. Truly, many of these same problems can be found in our modern day solution to information organization. Will students someday cringe at our binary codes, thinking it to be a little funny and misguided?

For now, I love my Google. But maybe it’s just me.

Decisions, Decisions

2005-09-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

While reading "As We May Think," I was very interested in the way Vannevar Bush described his ideas--particularly his data retrieval system. His desk system made me think of two other data retrieval systems that have been composed out of fiction before the "real system" materialized: The web surfing of "Hackers" and the internet in the Sci-Fi book "He, She and It."

Let me preface my discussion on "Hackers" with two things: 1. I have loved this movie since its 1995 release. I think the graphics and plotline are fantastic, playing out mid-90s discussions about the freedom of thought, counterculture, and the possibility for rebellion against consumerism, corruption, and control. 2. To refamiliarize myself with the movie, I, of course, went to imdb.com. Looking through this database after reading Bush made me think of its power and the value of it as a resource.

"Hackers" was written and produced when the internet was first moving into the mainstream. Therefore, the movie had to explain the power of the internet as well as explain the processes of using the internet, specifically about hacking. The movie is particularly concerned with databases of corporate and personal information. The characters "hack" into these databases, spreading viruses to hide their entry into these sensitive systems, and destroy the databases. During this time they discover conspiracy hidden within the system that becomes "the system." When I watched the movie, I was most fascinated by the graphics--the internet seemed to be a visual labyrinth. Information was stored not in computers, but physical columns of information that one would maneuver around. "Hacking" was a visual experience of color, physical space, and nearly physical participation, not at all like using Safari to find articles on Lexis Nexis. Whereas this film re-articulates the experience of data retrieval, other texts consider the future of data retrieval technology.

Marge Piercy's book "He, She and It" (1993) is the only Sci-Fi book I have ever read. And I loved it. I'm not one to like most Sci-Fi films or TV shows, so this, naturally, surprised me. She details a world where information has been left to be the most precious resource, survivors of the world protecting their data from pirates who aim to appropriate or destroy it. How people accessed the internet, specifically, was interesting to me. People in this futuristic world put on virtual reality devices of sorts, "plugging themselves in." While "plugged in" they were much like the characters in "The Matrix," they could be killed within the internet or out in the physical world. People physically projected themselves into the internet, seeing themselves as they think of themselves physically--for example, if when I think of myself my brain conjures up an image of my 6 year old self, that would be the image projected in this futuristic internet. Piercy's internet became an extension of one's brain, vastly different from Bush's bulky desk-system.

To be honest, I love all three perceptions of the internet and data retrieval I just mentioned--they are all more fanciful, more creative, and a little more interesting than Internet Explorer and computers can feel sometimes. But hey, maybe that's just me.

My (Lack of) Memory

2005-09-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

I've never been a good "rememberer." In fact, this underdeveloped skill of mine has been featured in psychological studies regarding what happens when people don't organize their short-term memories to be catalogued in their long-term memory. As a result, I'm a write-aholic. If I hear something important, I immediately write it down (making my notes very valuable come finals). But something I discovered a long time ago is that this coping mechanism has hurt my ability to remember (and understand) what I hear even more than my damaged memory.

Ong, specifically, discussed the greater social, cultural, and psychological implications of communities changing from primary oral cultures to cultures using systems of writing. This is something I have long understood, but lacked the ability to explain.

Once my disfunctional memory became obvious (specifically thanks to my inability to memorize the multiplication tables), I had to learn how to "organize" myself. Teachers, counselors, and my parents all held hands and sang about the beauty of tabbed binders, assignments notebooks, and lists. All these systems of organization essentially require notetaking, eliminating my need to remember what I was told. These systems of organization moved from the classroom into every aspect of my world: If I heard advice on TV, I wrote it down. If my parents told me to do a few chores, I wrote them down. If I heard about a movie I wanted to see, an event I wanted to participate in, or a person's name, I wrote it down. All this writing perfected my penmenship and made me believe my future aspiration was to become a novelist. I loved written culture.

But then I went to high school. Suddenly, teachers were talking faster and information became more complex. My hand struggled to keep up with my head. But, as I'd abandoned my auditory abilities years before, I found that if a teacher explained something out loud, I had to write it down (every detail) before I could understand it. Spoken words meant nothing to me if they weren't written down. If someone read aloud an article (that wasn't in front of me), it was as if they were speaking gibberish. I had lost my ability to participate in an oral culture.

But understanding this loss in the context of Ong's readings makes me wonder--was it my ability to listen that was lost or that I had tricked myself into not using it? If I didn't write anything down, that meant it wasn't important to me. So did I just ignore words (if I knew I wasn't going to write them down), filtering out the unwritten (and thus unnecessary) fluff? And was this to a fault of my memory, my organizational habits, or my attitude? Of course, like my eternal search for why my twin sister and I are so different (were we born different or were we searching so hard for independent identities that we formed oppositional ones?), I'm not sure these questions can ever be answered.

Is it possible to untrick myself to become a part of auditory culture once again? I think immersing myself in an auditory culture might do the trick. But, with a written world of theses and dissertations before me, I'm not sure I'll ever get the opportunity to test this. Students, I think, are particularly bound to the written world and yet we're taught to critically think about the written word. Ong's readings resulted in a frustrating exploration and introspection that places me at the cusp of understanding the way I think and how I participate in American (and global) communities. But hey, maybe that's just me.

Kittler & “My First Sony™”

2005-09-21T14:03:00.000-07:00

Kittler describes how human, specifically American, consciousness, society, and culture changed as a result of technology shifting from writing-based media to binary media. Kittler is concerned that as mass media becomes digitized, our culture will become digitized, less creative, and more formulaic. “Numbers and figures become the key to all creatures,” she says, implying everything surrounding us will de-evolve into data, taking away a sense of our humanity.

When I was ten or so, I got a “My First Sony” for Christmas. For those not familiar with the ingenious invention, “My First Sony” was the first portable cassette player marketed towards children. Using my collection of Disney cassettes, I sang to classic tunes like “Disco Duck,” “A Spoonful of Sugar,” and “Bippity Boppity Boop” while learning to do my laundry for the first time. It changed my life.

Eleven years later, I wear my iPod, listening to classic tunes like “Livin’ on a Prayer,” “Jesse’s Girl,” and “Cars” while doing my laundry. Isolated in my digital auditory womb, I go about my day, passing others also wearing the unmistakable white headphones. I walk with others, but I can’t hear them. I’m in my own universe.

Kittler worries digitization will “kill” our humanity. Undeniably, digitization creates numbers instead of names, mass content instead of individualized, human isolation, and, to some degree, conformity and globalization. But, what about “My First Sony” and my iPod? I choose the songs I play, when I hear them, and how I listen to them. Many people feel their iPod is an expression (and extension) of themselves, their playlists exposing their inner soul. iPods are letting us choose to listen to the same song played the same way repeatedly, played with precise “digital” quality. Are we replacing live music (and the communal concert experience) for our digital library? Or are we just exposing ourselves to more music more often thanks to the iPod’s portability and convenience?

Have we confused choice and convenience with individuality? Or were Kittler’s anxieties not fully realized?

The answer is ambiguous. Or maybe that’s just me.

The Sim World

2005-09-07T23:40:00.000-07:00

When thinking about the relationship between immediacy and hypermediacy, I almost immediately thought of my past Sim obsession. I've been Sim-free for a while now, so I feel strong enough to discuss my old habit.

I, personally, don't consider myself "a gamer." When I'm surrounded by a group of people sitting down to play a round of "007," I usually sigh and pick-up a magazine. When our texts started making me think about video games and simulated environments, it took me a while to realize something--I do, in fact, like simulated environments. "Oregon Trail," "SimLife," "SimAnt," "SimCity," and a slew of other semi-educational computer games. So, there you have it: I was a modern day girl computer gamer. But I haven't played computer games for a while now... So, why did that tide turn?

Did I grow too busy? I don't really think so. There are plenty of nights when I've had too much coffee and go crawling online for some relief. Why didn't I play one of the many games on my computer?

Was it something I outgrew? I'm not sure I can say, "yes" to that either. I played about an hour worth of "The Sims" (my last and final game love) a few months ago and seemed to enjoy everything I once had.

But how is one to know if simulated experiences--mediated experiences--are the same experience? To become part of the experience and gain any immediacy, one must turn off their awareness of their most basic sensory experiences (for example, if someone smells popcorn cooking while playing "Bond," they realize that there is a reality (the popcorn and its smell) and a mediated experience ("Bond")). In turning off this sensory awareness, I think one's awareness of their emotions will fade as well. So, when I look back on how I used to feel when I played "The Sims" in 2001, it's difficult to identify anything more than what happened and what I did to play the game. I remember no emotions. Of course, this could just be me.

People must feel emotions while they participate in mediated experiences or games, movies, and other media wouldn't be popular, of course. But how can we study the slight and specific differences between mediated and "authentic" experiences if we can't ever resimulate our authentic emotions while participating in these mediated environments?

I did come to one personal conclusion: If I was training to be a pilot and went through a simulator, I have no idea if I'd feel the emotions of a pilot or feel ready to take responsibility for hundreds of passengers. However, I do know that in my experience playing "The Sims" I have never truly felt like a "creator," experienced the emotions of a "creator," or take seriously the responsibility of a "creator."

But, maybe that's just me.

--For more on Sim addiction and Sim media, check out: http://www.simmedia.co.uk/ And be sure to check out the Sim based media, too (like this "TV" series created by Sim gamers using Sim characters that is shown online (http://simdate.simmedia.co.uk/).

My First Entry

2005-08-31T20:58:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the blog of katelivbeck.