so i've only very recently blogged on AGU today, but this doesn't really belong there
my auntie jan got facebook today.
and i'm incredibly happy about this. the fact that she's so far away sucks and i miss her. knowing that i can contact her online and be kept up to date with her health is fantastic.
but i'm also worried. i don't know how okay this is all going to be when the time does come and there's a constant digital reminder of the fact that she isn't around anymore.
it's just a little conflicting, that's all. i imagine this to be the equivalent of calling a deceased person and getting their (very alive-sounding) voicemail. on the one hand, it's a relief to hear their voice. on the other, knowing that a recording is all that's left of them is exquisitely painful.
still, i'm going to enjoy it while she's here :)
that is all
Saturday, 21 April 2012
Saturday, 7 April 2012
Reading
I'm in the process of reading "Out of our minds: Learning to be creative" by Ken Robinson.
As I've read about how technology has pervaded the lives of the under-30s, becoming a cybernetic extension shaping thought processes, values and the very nature of our cognitive gymnasticism, I can't help but notice the truth in this as evidenced in my reading process.
As I read, I highlight, dog-ear and share fragments from the convenience of my kindle app. But that's just scratching the surface in examining the impact of digitised reading processes. Ten years ago, reading was an isolated pastime. I would contentedly sit with a book, close off the outside world and let myself be immersed. Whilst I appreciate that 10 years ago I was reading the likes of Harry Potter and The Obernewtyn Chronicles and naturally my reading habits have matured, I can't ignore the increasingly social aspect which accompanies my current reading practice.
Whilst reading I find myself concurrently listening to music, periodically checking facebook, updating my progress on 'goodreads', browsing youtube for content (both related to the text and otherwise) and writing a blog about the reading process I am currently engaged in. It's all very meta.
As both avid reader and educator, I ask: how can a reader fully engage with a text when faced with all of these competing stimulant experiences?
Somewhat surprisingly, reflection would suggest that these experiences are now so deeply engrained in my understanding of the act of reading that I find it difficult to separate them from the process. I had noticed myself checking facebook on at least a bi-chapterly basis. The frequency of these checks alarmed me at first, and I would consciously try to limit them. "You're not fully engaged" I told myself. I didn't believe that I could so willingly abandon an immersive text for something as menial as status updates detailing what my friends had eaten for dinner. But I found that ignoring my impulse to periodically take breaks actually stilted my appreciation for the text. Reading began to feel like a chore. Where normally my mind would allow itself breaks, addressing pressing curiosities as the impulse rose, I was trying to ignore those impulses. This did little more than fuel my curiosity, so much so that I found myself re-reading large passages that had not been retained due to mental abstraction.
Even in the process of writing this blog, I have found that addressing my mind's curious whims has done a great deal to assist rather than impede the creative process. Google searches and fact checks have helped to shape this text whilst prompting deeper thoughts on the issue, transporting this piece to a place inconcievable to myself when first I set to writing.
Perhaps it's my low tolerance for anything dull or my short attention span which is the cause of this need for constant, multi-faceted sensory stimulation, but I highly doubt that I am alone in this. We live in a world of instant gratification; so much so that the processes of reading and writing alone are not sensory enough. We seek to supliment and enhance them.
This is by no means a commentary on the content of the book I'm reading, although it does extrapolate on a few points raised by the author. These are just the questions and ideas that the reading process has provoked. And isn't it remarkable that reading promotes this kind of internal dialogue? I can't imagine the same effect would be achieved in more traditional reading processes. No, this is not cloze reading. I am not readong for comprehension of the original text, peeling back the deftly placed layers of meaning to find the true authorial intent. But this is, to me at least, far more valuable. Promoting thoughts independant from the original work to create new texts, new dialogues and new understandings completely distinct from the author's own.
As I've read about how technology has pervaded the lives of the under-30s, becoming a cybernetic extension shaping thought processes, values and the very nature of our cognitive gymnasticism, I can't help but notice the truth in this as evidenced in my reading process.
As I read, I highlight, dog-ear and share fragments from the convenience of my kindle app. But that's just scratching the surface in examining the impact of digitised reading processes. Ten years ago, reading was an isolated pastime. I would contentedly sit with a book, close off the outside world and let myself be immersed. Whilst I appreciate that 10 years ago I was reading the likes of Harry Potter and The Obernewtyn Chronicles and naturally my reading habits have matured, I can't ignore the increasingly social aspect which accompanies my current reading practice.
Whilst reading I find myself concurrently listening to music, periodically checking facebook, updating my progress on 'goodreads', browsing youtube for content (both related to the text and otherwise) and writing a blog about the reading process I am currently engaged in. It's all very meta.
As both avid reader and educator, I ask: how can a reader fully engage with a text when faced with all of these competing stimulant experiences?
Somewhat surprisingly, reflection would suggest that these experiences are now so deeply engrained in my understanding of the act of reading that I find it difficult to separate them from the process. I had noticed myself checking facebook on at least a bi-chapterly basis. The frequency of these checks alarmed me at first, and I would consciously try to limit them. "You're not fully engaged" I told myself. I didn't believe that I could so willingly abandon an immersive text for something as menial as status updates detailing what my friends had eaten for dinner. But I found that ignoring my impulse to periodically take breaks actually stilted my appreciation for the text. Reading began to feel like a chore. Where normally my mind would allow itself breaks, addressing pressing curiosities as the impulse rose, I was trying to ignore those impulses. This did little more than fuel my curiosity, so much so that I found myself re-reading large passages that had not been retained due to mental abstraction.
Even in the process of writing this blog, I have found that addressing my mind's curious whims has done a great deal to assist rather than impede the creative process. Google searches and fact checks have helped to shape this text whilst prompting deeper thoughts on the issue, transporting this piece to a place inconcievable to myself when first I set to writing.
Perhaps it's my low tolerance for anything dull or my short attention span which is the cause of this need for constant, multi-faceted sensory stimulation, but I highly doubt that I am alone in this. We live in a world of instant gratification; so much so that the processes of reading and writing alone are not sensory enough. We seek to supliment and enhance them.
This is by no means a commentary on the content of the book I'm reading, although it does extrapolate on a few points raised by the author. These are just the questions and ideas that the reading process has provoked. And isn't it remarkable that reading promotes this kind of internal dialogue? I can't imagine the same effect would be achieved in more traditional reading processes. No, this is not cloze reading. I am not readong for comprehension of the original text, peeling back the deftly placed layers of meaning to find the true authorial intent. But this is, to me at least, far more valuable. Promoting thoughts independant from the original work to create new texts, new dialogues and new understandings completely distinct from the author's own.
Saturday, 28 January 2012
time capsule
so about six months ago, i wrote myself a letter and told myself not to open it until 2014. today i decided to open it, because i'm impatient and i figured 6 months is a lovely, round number anyway.
i'm not going to include the whole letter, because it's quite personal. but here are some of the highlights:
Future self, are you a teacher? And if so, are you teaching drama? And if so, are you amazing at it? I really hope the answer to all of these questions is yes. I know myself and fellow past selves have put a lot of work in to get you to this point, so I really hope that you haven’t wasted it.
In case there are days when you feel depressed about teaching (this is still operating under the assumption that you are teaching of course) I would like you to remember why you wanted to teach. You love drama, you love language, you love the theatre, and performing, and how much fun it was whenever you’d worked so hard to get a piece of work polished for an audience. And you recognise that there are students out there who have that same passion, and DESERVE to be able to explore it! You remember being the new kid at school, always looking to the friendly drama classroom for a place that was safe and inviting. You get those naughty kids who are rubbish at English and maths and are even naughty in your classroom, but then they get on stage and it’s like “WOW. Where did that even come from?” Those kids need a place, and it's your job to make that place for them.
Future Jess (or should I say Miss?), you are there for a reason. Yes, lesson planning and unit planning and reporting and behaviour management all suck. They are not fun, and I won’t pretend they are. But they are just a part of what you do as a teacher. The most important parts, the part where a kid comes to you to say they’ve had a great day, or where you just finish a lesson and think ‘DAMN! I’m on fire!’, the first time you introduce a class to process drama and they just look like their minds have been completely blown… those are the parts of this job that make it great. Or at least, that’s what I imagine. I really hope you’ve managed to find new parts that excite you and bring you joy.
Jess, if you aren’t a teacher, why not? Why are you ignoring all of my hopes, all of the other past Jess’ hopes, and doing something else? If you’re working in an admin role, I will strangle you myself. You were made to be front and centre where the punters can see you. Not hiding behind a desk or schmoozing with P&C committee members.
I really hope you’re still alive. I hope that you’re strong, funny and sweet despite any bad experiences you may have. I hope you’ve seen another patch of this earth and travelled somewhere you’ve never been (be that overseas or at home), but I hope that you always remember that you’re a nice girl, from NQ. You just wanted to be happy and do something in life where you could wake up each day and know that you would be doing something you love.
so yeah, that's what i was thinking about 6 months ago. i think so far, life has gone pretty swimmingly.
there was also a lot of crap about relationships and my then (very recent) breakup. but that's not really as interesting to me right now. being in a place in my life where i don't actually know what's going on with regards to relationships makes it a bit hard to judge how far i've come.
Monday, 26 December 2011
silver-backed gorillas
so i was watching this video today, and at around 2:45 john began talking about something i had very nearly but not quite blogged about recently.
on my second last shift at work i wrote a blog about something i wanted to discuss, but i didn't publish it because it came off as an incredible combination of sappy, cocky, idolatristic and vain. i know, it is a truly magnificent blog that can accomplish all of these tones. the entry in question absolutely did. but this is not that entry, this is just a shaddow of the entry, touching on the theme of the silver-backed gorilla.
so in the video posted (and if you don't watch it, don't worry. i just posted it because it reminded me of this topic) john talks about how we seek approval and acceptance of the people who we respect - the "silver-backed gorillas of our personal jungles".
i think that is a pretty fair statement. i know that personally, i don't seek approval and acceptance from the general populace - i'm comfortable and even unusually pleased with my perceived niche on the outskirts of popular culture, style, thought and opinion. there are people who accept and love this about me. they are my friends. and they wouldn't be my friends if they didn't. i don't feel the need to seek out their respect or approval, because i expect it. within the confines of the friendship, there is the unspoken precedent of mutual respect.
but then there are some people who i respect unilaterally - my respect isn't based on the premise of friendship, but rather respect for a person's thoughts, actions and philosophical outlook.
i respect key historical figures like rosa parks, mother theresa, einstein and william wallace.
i respect artists like picasso, beckett, warhol and piaf.
but more than that, i respect people who make things matter to me.
i know that probably seems a bit simplistic, and it is an oversimplification of something more difficult to articulate. but essentially, people with passion make me passionate. people who care deeply and passionately about things and thoughts and people - and who in turn make me care deeply and passionately about those things/thoughts/people - are the people i respect and seek respect from the most.
i could list these people, but i won't. because i don't want to embarrass myself or anyone else, and because i think that respect and idolatry are easily confused in circumstances like this.
but basically, i've been lucky enough to have a few silver-backed gorillas in my life. all of whom have touched me personally and taken an interest in my development.
they have said things, little things, that will stick with me for the rest of my life. and i'd like to share them here.
~ We need smart teachers
~ If you care about the equitable treatment of all human beings, you are a feminist
~ You're very intuitive
~ You're brilliant
this might seem like an ego trip, since all of those comments are directed at me and my personal state of being, rather than the larger philosophical concerns of mankind. but the reason these "compliments"(?) will stick with me for the rest of my life is because they came from people who i respect. so much so that simple statements like these - which could easily be read as platitudes - accrue deeper meaning simply by virtue of the 'sayer'.
these are my silver gorillas. some have been teachers, peers, employers and friends. do i think they are shining examples of humanity? no. they're normal people. they do normal jobs. they have normal needs and concerns and dreams. but they have passion, which in turn makes me passionate.
somehow, these people kindle the little light inside of me (which i suspect is inside of all of us), inspiring me and reminding me of the things that i'm passionate about.
so yes. that's the blog that got away.
silver-backed gorillas.
on my second last shift at work i wrote a blog about something i wanted to discuss, but i didn't publish it because it came off as an incredible combination of sappy, cocky, idolatristic and vain. i know, it is a truly magnificent blog that can accomplish all of these tones. the entry in question absolutely did. but this is not that entry, this is just a shaddow of the entry, touching on the theme of the silver-backed gorilla.
so in the video posted (and if you don't watch it, don't worry. i just posted it because it reminded me of this topic) john talks about how we seek approval and acceptance of the people who we respect - the "silver-backed gorillas of our personal jungles".
i think that is a pretty fair statement. i know that personally, i don't seek approval and acceptance from the general populace - i'm comfortable and even unusually pleased with my perceived niche on the outskirts of popular culture, style, thought and opinion. there are people who accept and love this about me. they are my friends. and they wouldn't be my friends if they didn't. i don't feel the need to seek out their respect or approval, because i expect it. within the confines of the friendship, there is the unspoken precedent of mutual respect.
but then there are some people who i respect unilaterally - my respect isn't based on the premise of friendship, but rather respect for a person's thoughts, actions and philosophical outlook.
i respect key historical figures like rosa parks, mother theresa, einstein and william wallace.
i respect artists like picasso, beckett, warhol and piaf.
but more than that, i respect people who make things matter to me.
i know that probably seems a bit simplistic, and it is an oversimplification of something more difficult to articulate. but essentially, people with passion make me passionate. people who care deeply and passionately about things and thoughts and people - and who in turn make me care deeply and passionately about those things/thoughts/people - are the people i respect and seek respect from the most.
i could list these people, but i won't. because i don't want to embarrass myself or anyone else, and because i think that respect and idolatry are easily confused in circumstances like this.
but basically, i've been lucky enough to have a few silver-backed gorillas in my life. all of whom have touched me personally and taken an interest in my development.
they have said things, little things, that will stick with me for the rest of my life. and i'd like to share them here.
~ We need smart teachers
~ If you care about the equitable treatment of all human beings, you are a feminist
~ You're very intuitive
~ You're brilliant
this might seem like an ego trip, since all of those comments are directed at me and my personal state of being, rather than the larger philosophical concerns of mankind. but the reason these "compliments"(?) will stick with me for the rest of my life is because they came from people who i respect. so much so that simple statements like these - which could easily be read as platitudes - accrue deeper meaning simply by virtue of the 'sayer'.
these are my silver gorillas. some have been teachers, peers, employers and friends. do i think they are shining examples of humanity? no. they're normal people. they do normal jobs. they have normal needs and concerns and dreams. but they have passion, which in turn makes me passionate.
somehow, these people kindle the little light inside of me (which i suspect is inside of all of us), inspiring me and reminding me of the things that i'm passionate about.
so yes. that's the blog that got away.
silver-backed gorillas.
Wednesday, 21 December 2011
History
Have you ever thought about what it would be like to travel back in time a thousand or so years? Have you imagined the culture, the language, the quality of life? I think I would be safe in assuming that I'm not the only one - the academic pursuits of history, anthropology and the humanities are founded on our natural curiosity; our desire to know, understand and imagine 'what came before'.
But today I'm not interested in how the Mesopotamians organised their calendar or how the architecture of Gaul was influenced by Roman occupation. I'm not concerned by the dental hygiene of the Incans or the wedding rituals of the Goths. Actually, I am interested in all of those things. But not as much as I'm interested in this:
Excluding all language barriers and technological gaps, how would a person from any of these civilisations view us?
Our semiotic code, even down to our use of gesture and expression, has evolved from being culturally-specific to a more universally-recognised 'language'. The high-five is perceived as a sign of congratulations, fellowship and goodwill in the USA, but also in the former Soviet Union. A wink is as good as a nod to a blind bat in New Zealand and Portugal alike. With the exception of the world's most isolated and impoverished comminities (for whom access to global media is limited), our repertoire of internationally-recognised symbols is vast.
So what would happen if I were to visit Ancient Greece and go in for the fist bump? If an Aztec saw me sucking face with someone (because that's likely), would they think we were conducting some elaborate tongue-battle? If a Roman met a Roman-Catholic and saw the crucifix about their neck, would they find it about as tasteful as wearing a guillotine during the French Revolution?
Today we have a coda which enables us to communicate effectively with others even in situations where language and technology are not accessible. I don't need to be able to use google.translate to visit France and communicate my need to use a bathroom. No Turkish required to order a piece of Turkish delight. The fundamental needs - food, shelter, bathroom facilities - are all easily communicated through a delightful array of gestures, images and facial expressions.
But to someone completely locked out of that discourse, how must we look? If the miracle (or curse) of time travel should ever eventuate, how easily would I be able to order a honey cake or ask for the vomitorium? Even if I were fortunate enough to find myself in a civilisation speaking an earlier dialect of which modern English is derived, I imagine it would be difficult to make my meaning clear.
So I suppose that's what this entry is about, really. The idea of being locked out of an entire culture because of a total lack of commonality.
I don't know if this entry will be interesting to anyone else... probably not. But these are the kinds of things I think of when I let my mind wander.
If you aren't already sick of my work blogs, let me know.I may just post another one or two before I finish there forever. you snooze, you lose!
But today I'm not interested in how the Mesopotamians organised their calendar or how the architecture of Gaul was influenced by Roman occupation. I'm not concerned by the dental hygiene of the Incans or the wedding rituals of the Goths. Actually, I am interested in all of those things. But not as much as I'm interested in this:
Excluding all language barriers and technological gaps, how would a person from any of these civilisations view us?
Our semiotic code, even down to our use of gesture and expression, has evolved from being culturally-specific to a more universally-recognised 'language'. The high-five is perceived as a sign of congratulations, fellowship and goodwill in the USA, but also in the former Soviet Union. A wink is as good as a nod to a blind bat in New Zealand and Portugal alike. With the exception of the world's most isolated and impoverished comminities (for whom access to global media is limited), our repertoire of internationally-recognised symbols is vast.
So what would happen if I were to visit Ancient Greece and go in for the fist bump? If an Aztec saw me sucking face with someone (because that's likely), would they think we were conducting some elaborate tongue-battle? If a Roman met a Roman-Catholic and saw the crucifix about their neck, would they find it about as tasteful as wearing a guillotine during the French Revolution?
Today we have a coda which enables us to communicate effectively with others even in situations where language and technology are not accessible. I don't need to be able to use google.translate to visit France and communicate my need to use a bathroom. No Turkish required to order a piece of Turkish delight. The fundamental needs - food, shelter, bathroom facilities - are all easily communicated through a delightful array of gestures, images and facial expressions.
But to someone completely locked out of that discourse, how must we look? If the miracle (or curse) of time travel should ever eventuate, how easily would I be able to order a honey cake or ask for the vomitorium? Even if I were fortunate enough to find myself in a civilisation speaking an earlier dialect of which modern English is derived, I imagine it would be difficult to make my meaning clear.
So I suppose that's what this entry is about, really. The idea of being locked out of an entire culture because of a total lack of commonality.
I don't know if this entry will be interesting to anyone else... probably not. But these are the kinds of things I think of when I let my mind wander.
If you aren't already sick of my work blogs, let me know.
Tuesday, 20 December 2011
waiting
last night i drank a little too much
and i told him. (yet again. i know, i know)
yeah.
i think it's okay.
i think i'm okay.
i hung out with him today and things felt normal. pleasant.
i didn't feel the overwhelming urge to make a fool of myself or proclaim my love.
i didn't want to kiss him or ask him why he didn't love me back.
i just wanted to hang out with my friend - and that was nice. i've been missing that. lately i'd been building up our every interaction as something exciting and remarkable and life-changing. every minute with him was a minute to be recorded and replayed whenever he wasn't there.
today was a nice day. we had fun. we hung out. and that was that.
did we spark the way we usually do? hmm, maybe not. we were us still, but i think a small element of the 'us-ness' was missing. and i'm pretty certain that this element was me. or rather my eagerness to be brilliant and entertaining and lovable at every turn.
i don't know how i'm supposed to feel at the moment. i mean, obviously i still love him. but the quality of that love has already begun to change.
i'd experienced this same feeling earlier on when we'd been on prac for a few weeks. absence made the heart grow forgetful. i was comfortable not hearing from him for a few days at a time. if he was online, i didn't feel compelled to talk. i didn't update my LAG folder on a daily basis.
but then he got back and we started spending time together again. i remembered how amazing he was with my family and how much i loved his. i remembered how much we had in common, what good company he was, how pretty his eyes were (shut up, i'm not gushing). and it all just flared up again - like a rash. an itchy, uncomfortable, bright-red rash that was just so irresistable that i just had to scratch it.
but now that he's rejected me (again!), i can feel myself re-entering that lull. and i'm wondering if this is a coping thing: letting my feelings fall dormant until my heart seems to have forgotten the last assault. i don't have any answers right now, just a million questions.
the paramount one being this:
how?
how did i let myself get here again? what happened to make me go "hmm, you know that boy who definitely isn't in love with you? have you considered giving him another go?"
someone smart told me that i should let myself mope for a bit.
i should be allowed to feel like shit and accept that i have feelings. i'm a person and i deserve to be as pathetic as i need to be in order to move on.
i can already feel myself closing up again though. i can feel myself shutting it out as something that happened because i let myself get carried away. i let myself hope.
and my natural reaction to this is to not hope. to not feel.
i've let myself be miserable for weeks - but i did have some degree of control over the situation. i hadn't told him. i was the one in control of the situation by virtue of the fact that i was keeping my feelings to myself. and that hurt, and it sucked. but it was up to me. i knew i could end that misery any time by letting him know how i felt and releasing the pressure.
now i've done that.
so if i let myself be miserable now, i don't know when that might end. i don't have any control in this situation. the idea of being retrospectively miserable - of moping at a situation that i have no control over - is scary. i don't know when i'll feel better. i don't know how to make that change come about. it feels like some waiting game.
it feels like godot.
i don't know what i'll be waiting for. i don't know how relief will manifest itself. i don't know how long it will take. i don't know if it will come at all.
so the idea of not walking down that road is a much more attractive prospect.
this blog isn't really here to communicate a point or a thought or an 'answer'.
these are just my fears.
and i told him. (yet again. i know, i know)
yeah.
i think it's okay.
i think i'm okay.
i hung out with him today and things felt normal. pleasant.
i didn't feel the overwhelming urge to make a fool of myself or proclaim my love.
i didn't want to kiss him or ask him why he didn't love me back.
i just wanted to hang out with my friend - and that was nice. i've been missing that. lately i'd been building up our every interaction as something exciting and remarkable and life-changing. every minute with him was a minute to be recorded and replayed whenever he wasn't there.
today was a nice day. we had fun. we hung out. and that was that.
did we spark the way we usually do? hmm, maybe not. we were us still, but i think a small element of the 'us-ness' was missing. and i'm pretty certain that this element was me. or rather my eagerness to be brilliant and entertaining and lovable at every turn.
i don't know how i'm supposed to feel at the moment. i mean, obviously i still love him. but the quality of that love has already begun to change.
i'd experienced this same feeling earlier on when we'd been on prac for a few weeks. absence made the heart grow forgetful. i was comfortable not hearing from him for a few days at a time. if he was online, i didn't feel compelled to talk. i didn't update my LAG folder on a daily basis.
but then he got back and we started spending time together again. i remembered how amazing he was with my family and how much i loved his. i remembered how much we had in common, what good company he was, how pretty his eyes were (shut up, i'm not gushing). and it all just flared up again - like a rash. an itchy, uncomfortable, bright-red rash that was just so irresistable that i just had to scratch it.
but now that he's rejected me (again!), i can feel myself re-entering that lull. and i'm wondering if this is a coping thing: letting my feelings fall dormant until my heart seems to have forgotten the last assault. i don't have any answers right now, just a million questions.
the paramount one being this:
how?
how did i let myself get here again? what happened to make me go "hmm, you know that boy who definitely isn't in love with you? have you considered giving him another go?"
someone smart told me that i should let myself mope for a bit.
i should be allowed to feel like shit and accept that i have feelings. i'm a person and i deserve to be as pathetic as i need to be in order to move on.
i can already feel myself closing up again though. i can feel myself shutting it out as something that happened because i let myself get carried away. i let myself hope.
and my natural reaction to this is to not hope. to not feel.
i've let myself be miserable for weeks - but i did have some degree of control over the situation. i hadn't told him. i was the one in control of the situation by virtue of the fact that i was keeping my feelings to myself. and that hurt, and it sucked. but it was up to me. i knew i could end that misery any time by letting him know how i felt and releasing the pressure.
now i've done that.
so if i let myself be miserable now, i don't know when that might end. i don't have any control in this situation. the idea of being retrospectively miserable - of moping at a situation that i have no control over - is scary. i don't know when i'll feel better. i don't know how to make that change come about. it feels like some waiting game.
it feels like godot.
i don't know what i'll be waiting for. i don't know how relief will manifest itself. i don't know how long it will take. i don't know if it will come at all.
so the idea of not walking down that road is a much more attractive prospect.
this blog isn't really here to communicate a point or a thought or an 'answer'.
these are just my fears.
Monday, 12 December 2011
infantile livestock on digital identity
*disclaimer: this entry was written at work*
the more observant (and stalkeresque) of you may have noticed that my digital accounts have sustained a few changes lately. names have been replaced with aliases, privacy settings have been increased, vlogs removed and selected photos un-tagged. i want to make it very clear that this is not because i am ashamed of anything i have posted - i think i've constructed an accurate and honest online representation of myself which is not vulgar, offensive or explicit.
that being said, i also recognise the conservative (albeit somewhat antiquated) views of governing bodies regarding the proliferation of 'private' information in the public domain and how this can affect a person in a professional capacity. whilst i don't believe that my digital identity might impede my abilities to perform my function as an employee of the public sector, i respect the sectors' right to both suggest and impose limitations on the accessibility of information pertaining to my personal life. it is for this reason that i have decided to further limit the information i publish. i want you to know that i still intend on blogging on a regular basis, maintaining my social networking profiles and even vlogging to a small extent - however the privacy settings on these sites will be increased and the content edited so as to ensure that no compromising details of the nature of my work or personal life are made available to the wider public.
i wholeheartedly believe that i have a right to a digital identity. the online persona i have cultivated has grown with me, informing and being informed by my IRL identity. in our society, i believe that we have an unique opportunity not available or even fully comprehensible to our predecessors - our 'need' to document and curate digital artefacts of our experience is not unusual (as some would have us believe), but rather natural. a key aspect to humanity is our ability and desire to share in the human experience, to relate and be relatable to our peers. what better way to develop, maintain and enrich relationships than by making contact with both the IRL and digital self?
i look to my parents' generation and note the quality and quantity of their friendships. in a family where both earners were employed by the public sector, relocations were a regular occurance. as such, my parents found it difficult to maintain strong, lasting friendships and became somewhat insular as a result (in my opinion, at least). i know that i don't want to be a perpetuator of the 'us against the world' maxim, and i largely credit my ability to form and sustain meaningful relationships to the technological means at my disposal.
i know it seems like cowardice, but i feel there are some things which are best shared in online abstraction. the dislocation of mind from physical presence allows us to reach out for others without the same fear of judgement. perhaps this is because we cannot witness a visceral response, or perhaps it is because we aren't judged as harshly across digitised media - the dislocation allows the audient to separate the content from the individual. regardless, it can sometimes be easier to be more open and empathetic when we cannot see the furrowed brows or hear the inflections of others.
effectively, i believe the point i've tried to make is that i respect the department's stance. i will comply. but i have no intention of being deleted. this digital voice of mine is an entity in its own right, and has a right to that existence. if it is necessary that my audience be limited and my words censored, so be it. but am i liable to fall silent?
no.
the more observant (and stalkeresque) of you may have noticed that my digital accounts have sustained a few changes lately. names have been replaced with aliases, privacy settings have been increased, vlogs removed and selected photos un-tagged. i want to make it very clear that this is not because i am ashamed of anything i have posted - i think i've constructed an accurate and honest online representation of myself which is not vulgar, offensive or explicit.
that being said, i also recognise the conservative (albeit somewhat antiquated) views of governing bodies regarding the proliferation of 'private' information in the public domain and how this can affect a person in a professional capacity. whilst i don't believe that my digital identity might impede my abilities to perform my function as an employee of the public sector, i respect the sectors' right to both suggest and impose limitations on the accessibility of information pertaining to my personal life. it is for this reason that i have decided to further limit the information i publish. i want you to know that i still intend on blogging on a regular basis, maintaining my social networking profiles and even vlogging to a small extent - however the privacy settings on these sites will be increased and the content edited so as to ensure that no compromising details of the nature of my work or personal life are made available to the wider public.
i wholeheartedly believe that i have a right to a digital identity. the online persona i have cultivated has grown with me, informing and being informed by my IRL identity. in our society, i believe that we have an unique opportunity not available or even fully comprehensible to our predecessors - our 'need' to document and curate digital artefacts of our experience is not unusual (as some would have us believe), but rather natural. a key aspect to humanity is our ability and desire to share in the human experience, to relate and be relatable to our peers. what better way to develop, maintain and enrich relationships than by making contact with both the IRL and digital self?
i look to my parents' generation and note the quality and quantity of their friendships. in a family where both earners were employed by the public sector, relocations were a regular occurance. as such, my parents found it difficult to maintain strong, lasting friendships and became somewhat insular as a result (in my opinion, at least). i know that i don't want to be a perpetuator of the 'us against the world' maxim, and i largely credit my ability to form and sustain meaningful relationships to the technological means at my disposal.
i know it seems like cowardice, but i feel there are some things which are best shared in online abstraction. the dislocation of mind from physical presence allows us to reach out for others without the same fear of judgement. perhaps this is because we cannot witness a visceral response, or perhaps it is because we aren't judged as harshly across digitised media - the dislocation allows the audient to separate the content from the individual. regardless, it can sometimes be easier to be more open and empathetic when we cannot see the furrowed brows or hear the inflections of others.
effectively, i believe the point i've tried to make is that i respect the department's stance. i will comply. but i have no intention of being deleted. this digital voice of mine is an entity in its own right, and has a right to that existence. if it is necessary that my audience be limited and my words censored, so be it. but am i liable to fall silent?
no.
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