elfster.com

Elfster.com is pretty much an online secret Santa, but the thing I find interesting is that you can list things that you want and things that you don’t need, which your secret Santa can look up in order to get the right gift for you. If you’re interested, then you can see it in action through their instruction video.

It makes me wonder if this changes how we go about gift giving. Part of the aim of a Secret Santa is to surprise your particular gift-receiver. I see a double-edged sword popping up. On the one hand, if you get them something that they listed as wanting or needing, then they aren’t disappointed at receiving, say, a fruitcake or something like that. (At one point, I thought this was more of a myth than anything else. People don’t really give fruitcakes. Oh, let me tell you that they actually do. [Which fruitcakes aren’t actually that bad if properly prepared. Usually it’s when they’re to dry that it’s just bad.])

However, limiting Secret Santa only to what’s on the want list may prevent a person from getting some wicked cool that they never considered. Having an already made list keeps the Secret Santa from being able to use their creativity or come up with something that the gift-receiver may actually need rather than merely want.

Eliminating that creative gift can take the fun out of secret Santa, because you can’t even begin to accurately guess who your secret santa might be. You see, a gift says as much about the giver as it does the receiver. Now, you can still say something about yourself even with a list. Let’s say that I listed headphones as an item on my want list. If my secret santa gave me some really nice noise reduction headphones, then that tells me that my secret santa a.) takes great pride in the gifts that they give b.) thinks quite a lot of me or even possibly c.) is an aficionado of headphones. Of course, there are other possibilities as well, but these are fairly good guesses. Based on these possibilities, I can then predict who I believe my secret Santa to be.

What I’m saying is that an unexpected gift can heighten this hypothesizing. You then have to tap into a person’s creativity, which can make your prediction totally off the mark and truly surprise you as to who your real secret Santa is. That’s what makes secret Santa exciting–in my opinion. It’s the mystery.

The World According to Google

This morning’s New York Times Magazine contains a fascinating look at “Google’s Gatekeepers”. Beginning with the case of Turkey’s insistence on a censored version of YouTube (ThemTube? UsTube? Some-of-YouTube?), law professor Jeffrey Rosen explores the limits of free speech in a web/world dominated by major capitalist corporations as (or more) invested in their own power than in the voices of “the people”:

“Today the Web might seem like a free-speech panacea: it has given anyone with Internet access the potential to reach a global audience. But though technology enthusiasts often celebrate the raucous explosion of Web speech, there is less focus on how the Internet is actually regulated, and by whom. As more and more speech migrates online, to blogs and social-networking sites and the like, the ultimate power to decide who has an opportunity to be heard, and what we may say, lies increasingly with Internet service providers, search engines and other Internet companies…”

In general, the article raises (kindly without pretending to resolve) important questions about the various versions of “free” speech, the limitations of the Internet as “public” sphere, the tensions among open access and accountability, data control and world domination, and (duh duh duh) the Future. Good stuff for a rainy Sunday.

The real meat of the matter is the issue of free speech in the Internet age, what counts as publicly acceptable or exceptional to a World Wide audience. Of course, Google and its subsidiaries have a policy of removing only porn, graphic violence, and hate speech — but in the reality of the virtual world, these already subjective determinations become even fuzzier. As Rosen points out, the international market mandates specific restrictions based on individual countries’ laws, and so Google has often had to filter content for specific contexts. For example, Germany and France have laws against Holocaust denial, so search engines cannot display sites devoted to such denial. To some degree, that seems reasonable and responsible… until you consider that those denials are merely submerged, not subverted, but their silencing. Moreover, as Rosen argues (I like this guy), “one person’s principled political protest is another person’s hate speech”; he illustrates this tension through demands by Joe Lieberman (this guy bugs me) that Google remove videos he judged to be “jihadist,” a concept on which I’m not sure his views are, well, balanced. Ah yes, best to just sweep pesky protesters under the rug.

These examples brings up the old question of whether silencing haters only lets them hate in silence or private — rather than exposing their hatred to the light of day and others’ responses that might challenge or even (optimistically) change those attitudes. I just had this discussion with one of my students: While it’s certainly important to “protect the innocent” from hate speech, does that offer true protection or a false sense of security? What are the dangers, for all sides, of denial? And can we ever really hope to negotiate oppositional viewpoints, let alone overcome them, without, well, engaging them in conversation?

(And how can we learn to ask such questions without feeling–or fearing to be dismissed as–idealistic and naive?!)

ReExperience and ReReExperience

Audio vs Text. That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately. Specifically in conjunction with creative works. Let’s do a bit of a case study, shall we?

One of my absolute favorite poems of all time would be Richard Siken‘s “Litany in Which Certain Things are Crossed Out”. Now, the way that I read this poem–in my head, that is–tends to ebb and flow. I speed up and slow down at various parts. The point being, that I have a specific rhythm that is innate to me and how I perceive text. This rhythm forces me to hone in on specific aspects of the poem that I, subjectively, find intriguing.

But when a poem is heard and not seen, then I’m forced to comply to the rhythm of the reader. I find it even more interesting when it is the author him/herself who reads. In this particular case, I can find two readings by Siken of this particular poem. (Apparently, I am not the only one who enjoys this one.)

Apostrophe Cast contains what we’ll call Reading #1. This particular reading is more serious and melancholy. It’s slow and simmering. Gruff. Intimate. What sticks out to me in this reading is the fairy tale motif. The princess, the dragon, flames everywhere. And even more so, the despair and desperation stick out.

But with the reading he gave at Loyola University New Orleans [correction, it’s a 1718 Reading which is brought to you by Tulane University, University of New Orleans, and Loyola, as Alex McG has informed me], which we’ll call Reading #2 (available on iTunes), is a bit more upbeat. It’s read at a faster pace. It’s frenetic and bitter sweet. Snarky and sarcastic. In fact, Siken himself calls this poem “the fun one.”

You can compare the two. For example when he comes to the lady. This passage:

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?
A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.
Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.
What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.
Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly
flames everywhere.

And listen to the way Reading #1 approaches it:
siken1


Juxtaposed to the way it’s confronted in Reading #2:
siken2

Reading #2 contains a vitality that isn’t there for Reading #1. It’s like a wet cloth got thrown over Reading #1. Consider the way he speaks the very fist line of this excerpt. In print, there are two sentences: a statement and a question and, to my ears, #2 conveys that, but #1 makes the statement sound like he’s half questioning you. As if he’s merely guessing that “you want a better story” rather than telling you that you do.

Consider the lady as well. Both readings do present a sarcastic kind of address to her and her function, but each feels like a different kind of sarcasm. #1 sounds like the speaker has given up. He just doesn’t care about what she has to say anymore and the consequences of her actions should’ve been foreseen–predictable. #2, on the other hand, sounds provoking and antagonizing. That lady, you know she just had to go and do that.

Now, these differences. These different experiences, I suspect they lead to different speakers and ultimately to different poems. The poem that exists in Reading #1 is one of passiveness with a speaker who’s ready to roll over in bed and ignore the whole situation. Reading #2 has a passion and fervor that makes the speaker into someone who’s going to sit across from the coffee table, stare you in the eye, and plead with you to stay.

The one in my head, though. The rhythm that I come to when I read this poem, points me in a direction of middle ground with a speaker who sometimes wants to turn away and other times wants to stare you down. A speaker that confronts you with the things he really cares about–(ie, more applesauce)–and allow you distance when he’s swimming around and trying to avoid things–(ie, saying he’s not the dragon when he is the dragon).

Can you imagine the difference this makes, though? This ability to change the speaker can change an entire poem. With each new reading, the entire poem can change, the speaker can change, and the meaning can change. It has the ability to connect with people differently each time. Someone who wouldn’t connect with, say, Reading #1 might connect with Reading #2 or vice versa or not at all, but only with text. I find that exciting and perplexing.

Robot Bears!

Maybe it’s being surrounded by fairly, hmm, let’s say “quirky” people, but it seems like I’ve been confronted with a Robotic vs Organic concept since my youth. In my earlier years, it was the infamous Ninja vs Robot Debate, which was a continuous argument about who would win in a fight. I was on the Ninja side.

Even now I belong to a forum that calls its members “bots.” Bots who type with robot fingers.

My experience is not an anomaly. Indeed, I can bring up a ton of examples of the Mechanical Anxiety that shows up in the media.

Dishwashing Bot

Sex and Marriage with Robots

Um, Colbert anyone?

Even The Onion weighs in:


In The Know: Are We Giving The Robots That Run Our Society Too Much Power?

And the one that perked my interest:

CNN’s Scientists: Humans and Machines will merge in Future

As a writer, it peaks my interest. How is it that we’re all nervous about the same thing? Well, I guess this might be a purely American anxiety. I haven’t run into articles from foreign presses with the same kind of stance, but I also don’t look at foreign presses. It’s the language barrier. Predictable maybe, but true.

Anyway, I call it an anxiety, because none of these articles/videos really go out of their way to embrace the mechanical, the robotic. I mean, it makes sense to be nervous about something that effects everyone, yes. Like the economy right now–it impacts everyone. But something like this–where it seems so trite and trivial and downright silly. Have we all watched one too many matinee movies on the SciFi channel? Or is there something about our humanness that we’re trying to grasp onto, to cling to, to keep ourselves from forgetting. Through our own industrialization and our so-called technological advancements, we are still fragile. We are simply skin and bone and tissue.

Ah, but let me ask you this: does skin and bone and tissue really make you human?

The Essential Part of Running a Website

Let’s say you’re playing around on the Harlot site. You’re enjoying yourself–reading some mad good works of writing, writing comments, adding content to the wiki, having discussions–and, oh no, there’s something you don’t like. The comments are not intuitive to what the reader needs. The design is hard on your eyes. The logo’s too big. Or a number of other issues.

Well, well. Do I have a post for you. Because this site is meant to be a space for you and your needs, we want to make the best space that we can for you. It’s kinda like your favorite coffee shop, but cooler. This is your opportunity to help tailor Harlot to you. So, hit me with the feedback. Good, bad, totally apathetic. You can email us at harlot.osu@gmail.com or leave a comment. Here if you like or under the Editors’ Letter.

Tell me what you think, what you want, what you like, what you think doesn’t work.

Now, realize that I may only be able to do so much for ya, and if you ask for a Thoroughbred, you might end up with a Tennessee Walker. Jus’ Sayin’. There is a limited amount of time and support.

To preempt some of the things that do come up, know that our first priority is to create a single login session for all of our systems. That means instead of signing in for all the separate entities: Blog, Wiki, and the home page, you will only need to sign in once for all three. Useful, eh? We think so. Of course, we have been working on it (or I should say that our amazing PHP Programmer, Jason, has been working on it), but you may just have to bear with us as we go through the technical woes.

I mean, we have a whole list of things we’d like to see, but I know that y’all will have concerns that we never even thought about. So, please, tell us what you want. Tell us how to make the site better for you.

It’s Necessary.

We’ve had a power outage here in central Ohio in the past few days. While sitting in my darkened house with candles trying to light the way, I realized how much I occupy myself with kinda random things. I mean, no tv, no internet, no caller id, no lights, no stereo. And you’re wondering why that’s important?

No TV means no knowledge of when the electricity should come back on. I don’t know how many other people have been affected or where. Same goes for the stereo. My forms of communication get narrowed down to the phone and my voice. My phone I couldn’t charge unless it was in my car and my voice doesn’t carry when you stand directly in front of me.

No internet means that I don’t get any work done. You may say, “But Kaitlin, you can go someplace else for that.” Oh contraire my friend,  I spent about 3 hours today driving around trying to find someplace with electrical plugs and a signal that I can tap into. I’d go to a cafe to have the outlets taken up; okay I say, I have two hours left on my battery, I can work until someone gets up or it dies. But then, my browsers won’t load, because there are so many people on the same signal. I can’t stay at the cafe and just sit there. I have to find someplace else.

I’d go to a library only to have it close on me. Wonderful. Okay, I’m just complaining now, but no internet=no work for me. No work=nothing gets done and Nothing gets done=Panic. Er, fear more or less. How am I supposed to communicate to people, now!?

No caller id. Not important, really. I can live without it, but it was more of a surprise that I’m not used to. The phone rings (I do have an electrical phone with a plug-in base and all, but I also have just a phone that plugs directly into the phone line for when the power goes out) and I don’t know who it is who’s calling. I have a habit of answering the phone with a “hello?” The question mark is important there. I do phrase it as a question — even when I already know who it is calling, but now when I actually don’t know who’s calling, the question has actual significance. I really did need to know who it was calling.

No lights. Trust me, writing by candle light is not as easy or romantic as it looks. There’s a reason why we don’t all sit at our desks with a candle and quill pen these days. We don’t have to. And this is where we see how necessity stimulates progress.

I guess I just realized how cut off I became. My primary form of getting news ceased. I couldn’t check out the news on tv, internet, or (theoretically) stereo. My step-father did have a battery powered stereo that I used for a bit, but it took forever for them to bring up any real info that I wanted.

The paper is a nice way to hear what happened yesterday, but it doesn’t tell me a whole lot about what’s gonna happen in the minute by minute way that I’m used to. And uh, well, I don’t buy the paper. I have nothing against print — I just don’t spend the money on it. I’m poor.

So that left my cell phone. I’m not much of a phone person as it is, but calling places to ask if they’re open so I can bum some wi-fi is a terrible way for me to spend my afternoon. I did it though. Necessity made me do it.

So there we have it. An almost total lack of my average forms of communication. And yet, I still found a way to communicate. Now, ain’t that human?

Comparing Apples and Windows

Last week, Microsoft unveiled its first television commercial in its new $300 million campaign to “highlight how Windows has become an indispensable part of the lives of a billion people around the globe” (Microsoft press release). I’ve been amused by the Mac vs PC ads that have been around for a bit, and Windows has been working to counter them with a this new advertising scheme that features the comedian, Jerry Seinfeld.

Some of the responses I read, including a blog post by David Zeiler of The Baltimore Sun, give responses that I think are just a bit too negative (but some of the comments on Zeiler’s post expand the conversation in really smart ways). Is this the first ad that sells a product without showing the product? Certainly not. It’s risky, but sometimes it works. (For one of my favorites, take a look at what Haagen Dazs is doing these days.) I think in this case the ad is more powerful than some are giving it credit.

Just recently, a member of a listserv to which I subscribe posted a link to a very interesting episode from Frontline called “The Persuaders.” I watched only the first chapter (which was really good, and I’m looking forward to the rest of it), and what it presented resonates with the Apple and Windows ad campaigns: When our culture is already imbued with advertising, creating a flavor that pops out from the rest is difficult but is what every ad agency tries to do, and as those agencies continue to compete, they increasingly blur the (already unclear) distinction between culture and advertising. That’s precisely what Microsoft is doing with this first commercial and apparently what it will do with its entire campaign.

So far, however, I’m more a fan of the Mac vs PC ad campaign. The commercials do well in their simplicity, comedy, and visual representation of the two operating systems/software/hardware bundles (I’m not quite sure how to describe them when “Apple” refers to all three components and “Microsoft” refers to the first two). The Mac guy is confident but not pompous, competitive but sensitive, and very human and fun. The PC guy is the nerd with glasses who could use some exercise, needs to get out of the office, and should work on catching up with the times. Would I take such a simplistic approach in identifying people in real life? No. But I do think it works here.

But I’ll let you decide.

Are you paying attention?

Speaking of coffeeshops….

While sitting in one the other day, I observed a group of people obviously involved in some kind of meeting, surrounded by computers and tensely discussing what seemed like matters of some import. Every so often, I noticed that one person (I should mention, the only man in the group) seemed to be spending significantly more time e-mailing, texting, and even taking a phone call in the middle of the conversation. I could practically see the steam come out of the others’ ears

Now, I don’t want to make any tired generalizations about modern culture, manners, or the ills of technology. But this experience returned to mind while I was reading something about audience responsibility and rhetorical response… and for the first time I really thought about the expression “to pay attention.” So of course, I went to the OED and found the following definitions of the verb “to pay”:

  • to appease, pacify, satisfy
  • to give or transfer goods/money in return for goods or services, or in discharge of an obligation
  • to give what is due or deserved

And for attention:

  • earnest direction of the mind, consideration, or regard
  • practical consideration, observant care, notice

This common phrase, then, has some interesting underlying assumptions — that careful notice is what is due to a communicator, what is deserved by the one (or many) who puts forth a message. That service, in effect, demands recompense in the form of that seemingly simple but rare “earnest direction” of attention. If the attention owed is not paid, the transaction simply cannot go through. And the debt multiplies exponentially.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of audience responses lately — especially as we audiences are awash in political rhetoric that can all too often leave us feeling passive — and this phrase brings to mind yet again Krista Ratcliffe’s concept of rhetorical listening, “a stance of openness that a person may choose to assume in relation to any person, text, or culture; its purpose is to cultivate conscious identification in ways that promote productive conversation, especially but not solely cross-culturally” (Rhetorical Listening 25). This is more than mere granting of attention; it is an active participation in the work of communication, which can only occur under conditions of equal exchange.

So that guy playing on the iPhone wasn’t just rude — he was a thief of sorts, or perhaps just a cheat. By refusing to grant his attention, he  failed to hold up his side of the communicative bargain. His attention was being paid out everywhere but to his immediate colleagues — who couldn’t help but recognize the lack of value he placed on their conversation.

As far as I can tell, the only ways to repay such inattention are to refuse to listen in turn or to refuse to speak. Either way, there’s a breakdown in collaborative conversation, a rejection of the shared responsibility of rhetoric — and that’s a pretty high price to pay for a text message.

I can only hope he at least picked up the tab…

Eating Your Flashdrive

So, yes. I may be a complete dork here. Right, so I am a complete dork here, but Shiny Shiny is reporting on flashdrives in the shape of fruit. And, for some reason, I find it utterly idiotic and absolutely cool at the exact same time. I can’t imagine walking around with a plastic strawberry or watermelon in my pocket, but I do enjoy the thought of seeing random strangers look at my laptop with a sideways long glance when trying to figure out why there’s a strawberry sticking out of my computer.

Is she trying to make a statement?

Maybe she just likes fruit.