I want to find a way to infuse facebook with folklore, fairytale, legend, mythology, and fable. Sometimes life feels more significant and entertaining when it is reframed by little tropes and symbols from our collective history of story-telling. I see facebook as a good platform for beginning this process of reframing, because it is easy to share links and images with people. More thoughts on this later..
There are lots of things I say on the internet that make me feel vulnerable. When I express my feelings I feel shy. When I try to say intellectual things I get worried about sounding like a know-it-all or missing the point. When I try to enter conversations with people, I am scared of facing rejection. When I have direct answers or comments for people, I get nervous about coming off as bossy or rude. Things like this. The list goes on. Text-based communication has an intimidating, neurosis-inducing permanence to it that just makes me go crazy. How to deal?
Here are some of the semiotic defense mechanisms I’ve noticed myself using:
The Tilde ~
The tilde has this way of making everything look so playful and “ironic” that totally eases my nerves around writing any stream of genuine thought I have. The tilde is like a piece of fluffy padding that turns what might have been pretentious jargon or naive sentiment into flirting.
For example:
The Heart <3
The heart has similar intonations to the tilde, but with a more loving touch. In this way, it can be used to shield hateful or aggressive comments with a sense of “good intention”. It works well with underhanded compliments.
For example:
At the same time, the heart also does a good job of adding a touch of “distance” to forward and affectionate compliments. When expressing admiration for someone with whom your power relations might be ambiguous or uneven, the heart acts as a coy buffer. It can be useful for initiating intimacy.
For example:
*The Asterisk Bracket*
For some reason, the asterisk seems to have almost replaced the role of the quotation mark in internet speak. In the “postmodern” world, we have developed a hypersensitive paranoia around being unable to adequately express ourselves through the current palimpsestial vocabulary we have to work with – “thus” “everything” “must” “be” “put” “in” “quotations.”
Perhaps even quotations are now insufficient? Enter the asterisk bracket.
For example:
Sometimes the asterisk bracket seems to do more than quotations, though, in that it can also serve to italicize the bracketed word.
For example:
The Exclamation Point!
I see the exclamation point as an overcompensating effort to counter any and all potential interpretations of “bitchy” tone with excessive enthusiasm. The difficulty in conveying tone without an audio component tends to drive a fixation with making sure to not come off as rude or upset. The exclamation point seems a common remedy to this worry, despite “excitement” not usually being the appropriate voice to assume. Better safe than sorry I guess.
For example:
Extraaaaaaa Letters
Although I don’t see or use this convention so frequently anymore, adding extra letters on to words is a totally classic method of message-padding. Extra letters are able to exaggerate excitement or whiney-ness. By this means of hyperbole, the speaker can blatantly depreciate the genuineness of their statement.
For example:
Buajitti Makeovers is a Facebook spa and consulting service geared at helping you actualize your personal brand.
Buajitti Makeoevers is meant to be a place where people can come to reflect upon themselves.
The first reflection is meant to come when you ask yourself, “Do I have a personal brand?” The concept of personal brand has a different meaning to everyone: some take it ironically, some are actively involved in its manifestation, some never have it cross their minds. As Buajitti Makeovers is intrinsically tied to the Facebook platform, visitors must also consider the notion of personal brand in the context of their Facebook self.
The second reflection is meant to come when you consider how you wish to be branded by your Buajitti Makeover. In which way do you wish to represent yourself and for what reasons? You must also consider how genuintely “invested” in the branding process you become: do you treat it as a joke? do you put careful thought into your themes? do you anticipate the Buajitti Makeover Photo?
The third reflection is mean to come when you receive your Buajiti Makeover Photo and compare this photo to your sense of self. Is the imagery as you had expected it to be? What elements do and do not speak to your perception of self? Does a greater theme emerge that you had not anticipated? How do you plan to use this photo?
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Remember: as we are ever changing creatures, our personal brands will forever continue to transform. There’s no such thing as too many Buajitti Makeovers.
As of late, I’ve been catching myself, rather frequently, amidst the urge to like (thumbs-up, Facebook-like) content that simply cannot be liked. It is simultaneously sad and amusing. Thankfully, I haven’t yet felt this urge IRL, although I have a sense that such a day is right around the sweet little corner. Mostly, my “like instinct” kicks in during email correspondence and within my school’s learning management system, Canvas.
The like/favourite is such a useful option for correspondence – I really have no trouble at all in understanding my desire to use it out of context. Do you have nothing meaningful to contribute, but still want to integrate yourself into a conversation? Like. Do you really not feel like responding to someone, but know that you really should? Like. Do you want to show someone that you admire them, but not have the words to express yourself? Like. Do you want to show your enthusiasm in a short and sweet way? Like! Those are the major uses that come to mind. If you ask me, that covers a whole lot of social territory.
I remember when the “like” button first came out for Facebook, people were making Facebook groups to petition its abolishment. I wonder what they would say now.
Also, as a side note, I have this pretty constant insecurity of being an over-liker. You know those people who like your stuff so often that you almost start to discount it? You get excited about your Facebook notification, and then it’s like, “oh, it’s just Parker liking my stuff again.” My sister told me I was one of those people.
My current reactionary philosophy to this sort of thinking is:
1) Don’t ever take your likes for granted. Every like counts and behind every like there is someone who likes you. <3
2) Don’t ever restrain your likes. Trying to keep your like count at a certain level calls for just way too much unnecessary stress. It’s okay if you don’t achieve like reciprocity.
At the same time, I think if you feel as though you are over-liking, it is important to reflect on whether or not you could be commenting instead, and if you actually like what you are liking. Along these lines, I think that liking for the sake of “like reciprocity” is a behaviour that should be kept in check. But as long as we put an effort into being conscious of the intent behind our likes, I say like away!
Today I had a cool conspiracy-theory-esque idea about Android’s subversive emoticon branding. It was spurred by my friend Lee saying how the nosed Android emoticons made her feel as though she was “born before 1980.”
I think The sentiment of Android seeming “behind-the-times” due to this particular configuration of emoticon is valid, despite how trivial it may seem to compare the aesthetic of nose-vs.-non-nose emoticons. Why, though? Is it dated because it strays from the norm? Is it dated because it calls for more characters than average amidst our present spirit of brevity? If you think about it, the nose does nothing to convey emotion in this particular formula of emoticon – it is consistently a hyphen (whereas, for example the mouth can be either side of the bracket, an S, a D, a P, or an O). If any set of Android emoticons are to derive a lowest common denominator, the nose is to be eliminated, invariably.
So why the nose, then? The thought that crossed my mind is that in text-based conversation, the nose immediately distinguishes Android users. This form of distinction is novel to me because I’ve never encountered or considered textual formation as an extension of a company’s brand. For anyone who wants to counter me with “typography,” I say no, it’s not the same. Typography is different because of its mutability – very often typography becomes skewed, replaced, transformed, if not entirely encrypted, as it is passed between cites and programs. The emoticon, being a series of universal symbols, is a much more resilient form of textual aesthetic.
So, my original reaction was to think that Android had coded its system of emoticons to intentionally “mark” its users and perpetuate a sense of Android-presence. Now I’m feeling like this notion may be slightly far-fetched. But regardless of intent, the potential for brand dissemination is totally here. I like the idea of code as brand. I like the idea of a brand manifesting itself through an unspoken, non-physical undercurrent. I like the idea of a quietly powerful emoticon nose bringing the medium by which it has been shared instantly to our minds.
For those interested in reading more about emoticons:
Tom McCormack’s Emoticon, Emoji, Text: Pt. 1, I Second that Emoticon
Jussi Parikka’s Emoticon, 1881
Oh, the stigma of the selfie. Not too long ago, if you’d have asked me my thoughts on the phenomenon, I would have scoffed about its narcissism, indulgence, bourgeois-ness, etc. These days, I say it’s got a tender place in my heart.
Maybe I’ve found myself in a more self-involved district of the internet. Maybe I’m more openly comfortable with looking through scads of random photos of the people within my “online network.” Maybe I’m a creep. But I now love selfies and am happy to declare this love.
Not to make this post ultra-shallow, but I don’t really feel like dissecting the selfie from a “critical theory” sort of lens right now. The selfie is a major artifact of the present zeitgeist, and the discussion of how it relates to millennial culture is important. But that discussion is already happening, and I think it is important (for me at least) to sort out personal feelings around the matter before jumping in with academic jargon and “big picture” thinking.
So right now, what I’m feeling is respect for the people who openly embrace the selfie. There’s something very honest and upfront about the sharing of self-photography, and it seems to brush aside some very contrived and restrictive camera etiquette.
The first tier of this etiquette relates to acknowledgement of the camera. I feel as though there is often a strong taboo around paying heed to the camera – don’t obsess over taking photos, be “natural” in front of the camera, don’t let the camera impact your behaviour, etc. I see these taboos as feeding directly into the anxiety around the selfie. If we’re really honest with ourselves, though, the presence of the camera is embedded in our daily ritual: we are constantly posing for and anticipating photographs – even when candid.
The second tier of this etiquette relates to authorship. Doesn’t it seem cooler to be tagged in someone else’s photograph on Facebook than to be tagged in your own? I sometimes sense a attitude of hierarchy – like, the coolest people will be constantly surrounded by people taking their photos, and will thus never need to take their own photo. If this is the case, though, there is a dependency one must have upon those photographing ( “when are you going to upload those photos?” – ha, another taboo, but we’ve all heard it and I always want to ask).
Then there’s the obvious tier of etiquette regarding vanity, which I think is so basic we don’t even really need to get into it.
So aside from overcoming these totally riduculous/repressive social codes, what I really love about selfies is their act of self-sharing. I see the selfie as an open invitation, a gesture of “here, come look at me, I want to share myself with you.” Sure, there’s the rhetoric of “why would you assume people want to look at you?,” but I think we really do want to look at one another. I want to see people’s outfit of the day, I want to see people looking happy and fancy with their friends when they go out for a night on the town. I want to see what people are doing and looking like, even when they don’t have someone else there to take their photo. The sharing of a selfie lets these things happen.
I think that when you take a selfie, you make yourself vulnerable in many ways, re: the etiquette mentioned above. In turn, you let your viewers overcome the vulnerability and anxiety they might feel when looking through your pictures (ie “am I a creep?”). A selfie is like saying, “no, it’s not creepy, I want to share, keep on looking.” I think that’s a nice gesture.
Thank you to all my friends who shared their selfies!
And, side note: check out DIS Magazine’s #artselfie blog, with a cool intro from Brian Droitcour.
Here’s me putting my foot in my mouth less than a week after having chastised people for “holding back” in the twitosphere. In applying for a grant last weekend, I was asked to supply my Twitter handle. I did, didn’t think much of it, progressed to tweet away carelessly, remembered the application, read through my tweet history, and decided upon the need to take action a la My Fair Lady.
I deleted a tweet something along the lines of ”systems mapping is making me feel autistic” and I made some tweets over the next few days mentioning a play that I saw, a Wikipedia page that I read, a book that I had bought, an article I wrote, etc. Who am I? I feel so ridiculous to have condemned people for basically just wanting to be hired. At the same – why do jobs and grants and all these other random things that have nothing to do with our social lives keep asking for our Twitter handles?!
Anyway, the shame I felt during my Twitter makeover enhanced a feeling/worry I’ve been having lately – am I trying to assimilate with some Twitter counterculture? Talking about things I’m interested in academically or things I’ve done in the city isn’t “not me,” but I feel like I’ve built some kind of taboo around it. The Twitter etiquette going on in my head needs some serious deconstruction! – help me! Am I just ascribing to the rule set of a different public sphere? Do I even *get* the rules?
It’s so awkward and sometimes really annoying to witness a person trying to “find their voice” on social media. On the one hand, I hate all this hashtag-@mention-excess, aspiring-yuppie, community-engagement garbage. On the other hand, anything to do with absurdism, irony, or spelling mistakes so easily comes off as totally contrived. So I subtweet-insult these kinds of tweeters, but simultaneously haven’t found my voice yet either.
Well, I guess this post was mostly an apology/confession. And I’m going to try to stop being bossy and talking like I know everything … this is the internet after all.
Described as “A global experiment to create music from alarm sounds,” EEP EEP EEP EP is a concept album in which London-native, Colorado-based artist, Rajeev Basu, has created a series of songs using only the sounds of alarms.
I can’t stop listening to this song:
Artist Statement:
Statement
These days, most alarms are just false alarms.
They’re everywhere. They go off all the time. And they’re often left unattended.
(We’ve all had that car alarm outside, that just won’t stop.)
Alarms are a nuisance.
This is an experiment to see if we can turn that on its head.
Can we turn alarm sounds into music that people will actually like listening to?
EEP EEP EEP EP by Rajeev Basu (2011)
Four tracks. Digital release. Created across London, Berlin & New York.
Alarms used:
House alarm
Car alarm
Fire Engine alarm
Police siren
Another house alarm
Wireless car lock beep
School fire alarm
Watch beeps
80′s digital alarm clock
Oven timer
Car horn
ECG scanner
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I heard of this project today when I was looking through Fach & Asendorf Gallery‘s Archive.
Using twitter at my given age and professional standpoint presents me with an inner conflict seemingly common to many of my twitter-using peers. I wish to keep my account open for reasons of public engagement, visibility and, let’s be real, wanting more followers. Existing in the public, however, means that technically anyone with access to Twitter can look at my profile. Those I fret most about include professors, relatives, potential employers, and current employers. Generally, the relationships I maintain with these sorts of “figures,” consist in an element of reservation: I want to conceal certain aspects of my lifestyle, perhaps tailor my language, emphasize the responsible, or intellectual, or well-behaved sides of my self. Of course, the way in which I position my self varies from relationship to relationship.
In the case of Twitter, though, @Buajitti is my sole vessel for self, and this vessel is accessible to all those for whom I’d previously self-customized. Anyone’s encounter with this account will colour their relationship with me. With this in mind, how am I to customize my Twitter? Am I to amalgamate customizations? From my observation and experience, the lowest common denominator is less-than-desirable: when I tweet as though the world is watching, I not only bore but also debase myself, and when I see my friends do the same, I feel a sense of longing and disappointment.
It so often feels as though Twitter is serving as the extension of a resume, rather than a medium within which to socialize. I acknowledge that from a professional point of view, having a venue in which to demonstrate your interests, your outreach, your network, etc. is totally advantageous. Would I opt to use the tool in exclusively this way rather than others? For the time being, I say no.
For the time being, I have told myself that I will not censor my tweets for the sake of the people who might see them. I swear, I say ditzy things, I tweet during work, I insult schools of thought I am “supposed” to support. Sometimes when I think about the way @Buajitti looks, I am mortified, and wonder about who might have read through my Twitter and subsequently thought less of me.
What I tell myself is that if people are going to examine my social habits, they should be ready to see me doing my thang. That I shouldn’t have to talk like a square just because I’m in the public eye. That my twitter account is a space of my personal leisure that people visit willingly, and so shouldn’t that retain some genre of freedom for me. Is this an entitled perspective? Reading over this paragraph, it really sounds that way. I’m not sure yet. If I were to even call this an argument, there would definitely be holes in it.
The truth is: every time I try to reason around my activity within Twitter, I get so overwhelmed by the quickly blurring distinction bewteen public and private (cue Arendt). You can’t expect privacy with a public account, but you are using this public venue to carry out activity that once took place in the so-called private sphere. Clearly, the private and public have been mingling for some time now, but I think the prevalence of social media raises new questions about how we define these spheres, and the behavioural expectations we’ve attached to these definitions. Do we need a new taxonomy? I don’t know. I do wish that people could let loose though.
In the age of social media, we are invited to indulge our voyeuristic tendencies. Friends, acquaintances, and celebrities share titbits (and upwards) of their lives in various public and semi-public online domains, allowing us access to personal details that were very recently considered intimate. You can now know what your old classmate, with whom you haven’t spoken for years, had for lunch today, or what Rhianna was smoking backstage at Coachella.
This new culture of information sharing has changed our behaviours and interactions in many ways. One of the most frequently condemned side effects is the increased rate at which people now report on the trivialities of their lives — a predictable result considering how much the average person enjoys talking about him-/herself. Less often mentioned is our obsession with exploring these trivialities. Sure, there are people in your newsfeed who you wish would stop talking — perhaps you’ve even unsubscribed from their posts? — but there are no doubt others whose words, pictures, and updates you pore over and anticipate with excitement.
“Creeping” is a commonly-used term for this sort of behaviour. The connotations are explicitly negative. I believe they capture the sense of shame and anxiety we feel as we look into the lives of others on the internet for too frequent or too long of a time. Maybe we justify our actions by claiming that these people put their information out for others to see in the first place, but the guilt is always there.
I’ve worried more than once that a person would somehow be able to tell if I’d been looking at their Facebook profile excessively. I know that Facebook has some sort of promise about keeping this activity private, but I would still feel the dread, and I would wonder what if we could know who has looked at our profile.
In some ways, Linkedin has answered this question for me with its “Who’s Viewed Your Profile” feature. For a user with the most basic account, Linkedin will tell you 5 of the x number of users who have looked at your profile in the past week (something like this — I haven’t figured out their algorithm exactly yet). There is an option to remain anonymous as you look at the profiles of others, but it comes at the cost of not being able to see who has looked at you. I would rather know than not.
How does this feature impact activity within Linkedin? I have noticed a few things:
1) I generally restrict myself from viewing another person’s account more than once.
2) I feel as though it is “safe” or “socially acceptable” to look at a person’s account for a second time if I see that they have looked at mine for a second time.
3) A new power dynamic of “looking back” seems to be at play: who looks at you after you have looked at them, and what does this say about your relationship? If someone doesn’t return your “view,” does it mean to say that they are less interested in you than you are in them? Withholding your view can be an exertion of power or a statement of superiority.
4) People are choosing to disable their profile statistics in the name of remaining anonymous viewers.
