Decentralized dissemination of information may be a boon for the democratization of public spheres; however, it also undercuts the power of the texts produced in those spheres, creating a problem of recognition of the critical discourses occurring in blog communities. By critical discourse, my scope is limited to the use of the blog in realms that are not the ego-centric, day-in-the-life, dear diary, entries. I do find these entries interesting to the way that 'self' is defined using the blog as a dialogic tool and the necessity of a perceived audience, which allows the writers to enter into a phase of pseudo-self discovery by entering into a Hegelian Dialectic, but I see these blogs as more intimate in nature not effecting the conversations of critical-rational debate.
Democratization of access pulls the "proverbial rug" of credibility out from under the texts produced in this setting, which in many ways is the issue for most on-line publications. Blog sites do not promote rational debate so much as they do navel gazing. For a critical-rational debate to occur, blogs taking part in the conversations of particular debates need to be centralized or given nodes within the network of the specific debate. There are so many blogs varied in mode and topic that it overwhelms and saturates the amount of discourse in the community, that trying to distinguish a particular thread within the blogging community seems near impossible, especially finding credible blogs not run by conspiracy theorist schizophrenic psychos.
Another aspect of the blog that worries me, is that writers of strictly the "dear diary" mode rely on an audience, or, in the very least. a concept of an audience. But who or what is that audience? Who controls the perception of that audience? Blogs can be accessed by anyone, but it seems that these perceived audiences are faux constructions developed by marketers and advertisers, whose desire is to use the blogs as havens for Internet promotion and consumer demographics.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Marionettes of the Interface
The strings connect through the keys. Pulling each finger down in succession, the interface guides the cacophony of words and punctuation. Strange. I think, "No, I am the one pressing the button. It responds to me". Computers do what we say--We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.
How we write depends so much on the tools at our disposal. The machine may not be in control, but it constructs the entire schema of interaction, exerting cookie-cutter precision. The conventions of software and human relations, no matter what the programmer says, are dictated by the interface.
The control that software interfaces exert over the writing process, as noted in Computer and the Teaching of Writing in American Higher Education, 1979-1994: A History, can be detrimental or have unexpected results. The authors note that at the University of Delaware in 1988 there were sections of composition in which students used both Macs and PCs. At the end of the semester the director of the program surveyed the instructors, asking them if any issues occurred or anything else happened that they might have observed. It was observed that the sections of composition that exhibited the most problems were the ones using Macs. One of the instructors replied, "[It] dawned on us that the sections we have been complaining about all semester because of sloppy writing and the fluffiness of the topics are Macintosh sections"(75). Another instructor responded noting that "Students write differently on the Mac--frankly, i think their writing is worse....There is something about the large print and big margins on the Mac that seems to encourage a sentence structure and childish vocabulary" (75).
Granted, this was noted in 1988 during the infancy of computers in the classroom. Since then, word processing has become fairly homogeneous; Microsoft Word dominates both platforms of computer. It has become the industry standard, no matter the industry: engineering, publishing, academics, retail...etc, documents are expected to be in Microsoft Word file types.
Because of the universality of Microsoft Word and the expectations of its usage insisted upon by economic constructions, I have to wonder how much writing and the process of writing has been molded and sterilized by its implementation? Are there forms of writing that allow for more varied approaches to writing and thinking? Limiting the forms and interface of writing also binds the structures of communication. In many ways, a move towards multi-modal approaches would give students avenues of communication not governed by the physics of Word. It would allow them modes of inquiry and authority that are outside the bounds of traditional word processing.
How we write depends so much on the tools at our disposal. The machine may not be in control, but it constructs the entire schema of interaction, exerting cookie-cutter precision. The conventions of software and human relations, no matter what the programmer says, are dictated by the interface.
The control that software interfaces exert over the writing process, as noted in Computer and the Teaching of Writing in American Higher Education, 1979-1994: A History, can be detrimental or have unexpected results. The authors note that at the University of Delaware in 1988 there were sections of composition in which students used both Macs and PCs. At the end of the semester the director of the program surveyed the instructors, asking them if any issues occurred or anything else happened that they might have observed. It was observed that the sections of composition that exhibited the most problems were the ones using Macs. One of the instructors replied, "[It] dawned on us that the sections we have been complaining about all semester because of sloppy writing and the fluffiness of the topics are Macintosh sections"(75). Another instructor responded noting that "Students write differently on the Mac--frankly, i think their writing is worse....There is something about the large print and big margins on the Mac that seems to encourage a sentence structure and childish vocabulary" (75).
Granted, this was noted in 1988 during the infancy of computers in the classroom. Since then, word processing has become fairly homogeneous; Microsoft Word dominates both platforms of computer. It has become the industry standard, no matter the industry: engineering, publishing, academics, retail...etc, documents are expected to be in Microsoft Word file types.
Because of the universality of Microsoft Word and the expectations of its usage insisted upon by economic constructions, I have to wonder how much writing and the process of writing has been molded and sterilized by its implementation? Are there forms of writing that allow for more varied approaches to writing and thinking? Limiting the forms and interface of writing also binds the structures of communication. In many ways, a move towards multi-modal approaches would give students avenues of communication not governed by the physics of Word. It would allow them modes of inquiry and authority that are outside the bounds of traditional word processing.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Writing in Textured Dimensions
Writing does not occur two-demesnionally; It is a multi-textured and multi-layered process. Even the 2-D plane of woodpulp and print stratums and worms through multiple dimensions: Texts are built on intertextual flesh.
Multimodal composition complicates the dynamic of the writing classroom. Since arguments can be formed using text, audio, and visuals, invariably, there will be instructors and administrators that say, "Teaching a student to write using only pen and paper is difficult enough. So, how do you expect to teach students to write using other forms of literacy, when they are not savvy enough to write just using one mode?" My answer to this question is writing in the multimodal classroom is much more natural.
In many ways simple ink and pulp methods of writing do not connect to the visceral, especially with students in FYC. Though language creates an aural sensation, even unspoken, it does not engage the senses as actively as a text created using the various forms available in the multimodal class. Artifacts created in these classrooms are more sensual, touching on the textual, visual, and aural sensibilities of both reader and writer.
Because the texts are more engaging, the composer (not sure if writer is the correct word) would be using means that are more accessible. Regardless of the accessibility, these texts become more kinetic and complex. The hypertextul and intertextual elements in a multimodal composition make apparent the social nature of writing, situating the students as, both, artist and critic.
Multimodal composition complicates the dynamic of the writing classroom. Since arguments can be formed using text, audio, and visuals, invariably, there will be instructors and administrators that say, "Teaching a student to write using only pen and paper is difficult enough. So, how do you expect to teach students to write using other forms of literacy, when they are not savvy enough to write just using one mode?" My answer to this question is writing in the multimodal classroom is much more natural.
In many ways simple ink and pulp methods of writing do not connect to the visceral, especially with students in FYC. Though language creates an aural sensation, even unspoken, it does not engage the senses as actively as a text created using the various forms available in the multimodal class. Artifacts created in these classrooms are more sensual, touching on the textual, visual, and aural sensibilities of both reader and writer.
Because the texts are more engaging, the composer (not sure if writer is the correct word) would be using means that are more accessible. Regardless of the accessibility, these texts become more kinetic and complex. The hypertextul and intertextual elements in a multimodal composition make apparent the social nature of writing, situating the students as, both, artist and critic.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Dream on Rails
I don't know the exact moment it happened or how the movements and mashings of thumbs wired their patterns into my subconscious; All that I know is that I was no longer in control of my dreams.
It was winter break. I had just graduated with my B.A. and in between periods of drinking and applying to grad schools, I found myself bored. I had read the entire Harry Potter series in a week and started to play my GameCube--again.
Gamer ADD is the only way to describe it. Games, unlike books, are easy for me to put down. Most games do not keep my attention for more than an hour at a time. It took me months to beat a game. I was playing games that I had began, but never finished. But having played those before, everything was so predictable and bland. But that changed. I bought a new game and I became obsessed.
I was obsessed with potato-bag zombies with chainsaws; Obsessed with conserving ammo; Obsessed with mutated genetic abominations: Obsessed with Resident Evil 4.
There was something about the combination of game-play and narrative that left me vulnerable. I do not know if it was the fantastic nature of the game, opening up doors into my unconscious, but somehow the patterns had infected me.
"Why can't I move?", I thought to myself?
"Stop. Stop. I want to go left." I could feel something constraining me as I tried to turn. I was a puppet of the system. I kept moving straight. Everything was so logical. Imprecision was out of bounds--everything was in straight lines: My dreams were bound.
I have always had lucid dreams. Sometimes, I would let my subconscious take over and I would ride out the dream; But, most of the time I was in complete control. I could change the environment, the people, the situations. But somehow the movements and patterns from the video game were restricting my dreams. I was no longer free.
My dream was on rails. In the video game landscape there is a genre of game that best describes my dreams: Rail Shooters. Its the type of game where movement is controlled by the game and the player observes and shoots at zombies, aliens, terrorists, or whatever the enemy is in the game. Even games that allow more freedom in movement still have paths that confine mobility.
It was very strange to realize that video game logic and physics were somehow controlling my subconscious. Those dreams had an effect on my sleep. I was not getting the rest I needed.
The technology was reformatting my brain. I never knew the impact a video game could have on me. I only wish I knew how and what parts of me have been determined and molded by the technology I use. Is it possible separate the person from the technology?
It was winter break. I had just graduated with my B.A. and in between periods of drinking and applying to grad schools, I found myself bored. I had read the entire Harry Potter series in a week and started to play my GameCube--again.
Gamer ADD is the only way to describe it. Games, unlike books, are easy for me to put down. Most games do not keep my attention for more than an hour at a time. It took me months to beat a game. I was playing games that I had began, but never finished. But having played those before, everything was so predictable and bland. But that changed. I bought a new game and I became obsessed.
I was obsessed with potato-bag zombies with chainsaws; Obsessed with conserving ammo; Obsessed with mutated genetic abominations: Obsessed with Resident Evil 4.
There was something about the combination of game-play and narrative that left me vulnerable. I do not know if it was the fantastic nature of the game, opening up doors into my unconscious, but somehow the patterns had infected me.
"Why can't I move?", I thought to myself?
"Stop. Stop. I want to go left." I could feel something constraining me as I tried to turn. I was a puppet of the system. I kept moving straight. Everything was so logical. Imprecision was out of bounds--everything was in straight lines: My dreams were bound.
I have always had lucid dreams. Sometimes, I would let my subconscious take over and I would ride out the dream; But, most of the time I was in complete control. I could change the environment, the people, the situations. But somehow the movements and patterns from the video game were restricting my dreams. I was no longer free.
My dream was on rails. In the video game landscape there is a genre of game that best describes my dreams: Rail Shooters. Its the type of game where movement is controlled by the game and the player observes and shoots at zombies, aliens, terrorists, or whatever the enemy is in the game. Even games that allow more freedom in movement still have paths that confine mobility.
It was very strange to realize that video game logic and physics were somehow controlling my subconscious. Those dreams had an effect on my sleep. I was not getting the rest I needed.
The technology was reformatting my brain. I never knew the impact a video game could have on me. I only wish I knew how and what parts of me have been determined and molded by the technology I use. Is it possible separate the person from the technology?
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