It's Time to Grow Up.

This semester has thus far been a slap-in-the-face crash course on time management for the sake of time management. 

I suppose it's appropriate, since I'm graduating in (YIKES!) 8 weeks?  And will then have to trudge head-first into the world of "big girls."

I think this class is a pretty good representative of my new found capacity for work ethic born of a sense of self responsibility, as it's unique nature allows the student to either thrive with the opportunity to create an online web presence, or to quickly fall behind because no one is checking off your bi-weekly accomplishments (at least not in the normal Foucauldian institutional sense...)

Admittedly, I initially fell prey to the latter symptom of the freedom allotted for this class.  I've never been so busy, and it took me a quick minute to get adjusted to no sleep on weekdays and working all weekend.  However, I've since learned this magical abstract perception of "growing up," where your every-minute decisions actually effect your future experiences!  Can you believe this stuff?  I learned that if I go out on the weekends, I'm useless during the days, and then have to spend all day Sunday and Monday struggling to keep my head above water.  (That's not to say I'm actually achieving that just yet)

So...this class has been a good relational model for measurement of my own self-discipline.  I actually set time aside ahead of the hour before the due date to contribute thoughtful work that I can stand behind once in physical class.  Like right now:  I just finished a terrible midterm, and have to return to that class at 2:25-I could have smoked a couple cigarettes, maybe got some lunch or called my sister to chat-but instead I realized that I could probably get this done in the amount of free time I had.  So I did (I think).

PS-update about last week's post...I totally met someone awesome on an online dating site.  Criticize away, but I've still got a date tomorrow night regardless.

Am I Dating Myself Here?

(that was a pun, for those who aren't as ecstatic about wordplay as myself)

This blog is hilariously relevant to a recent online endeavor of mine, one which I've decided to not be embarrassed about. So there.

Upon yet another utter disappointment in the real-life version of dating, I took the advice of a good friend and decided to take my venture to the web...a place where the world works on my schedule, where I can't be held personally accountable for taking my time (unless you happen to be taking a class that grades blog submissions).

He recommended a free site wherein I could find "plenty of nice hipster boys": OKCupid

The first challenge given to the user being to choose a username and then to create a profile.

I instantly started scanning my iTunes collection (a daunting task, mind you) looking for obscure lyrics or song titles to appropriate-my logic being that it would weed out anyone who didn't get the reference, and therein be a double-bird-killing stone to narrow my criteria.

Creating a profile, however, became a considerably more daunting task.

These profiles prompt such explanations as "On a typical Friday night I am...", "The first thing people usually notice about me...", and "The six things I could never do without". As well as the option to upload pictures of yourself (an element necessary, I found, to showing up on other users' search results).

It was that point when I first realized I was dating myself. My generation is arguably the pioneer in online interpersonal communication, and growing up I shared the phenomenological scare-propaganda of "don't EVER tell anyone your real name or where you live" substantiated by after-school specials (or our contemporary version of them) informing us frightened young Americans of the dangers of accidentally meeting a 400 pound child molester who will inevitably trap you in a hotel room and try to do horrible things to you until the authorities conveniently bust down the door in the nick of time, somehow.

To avoid this nightmare-embedded possibility, I cleverly skirted the requirement by posting this picture I took in Paris a couple years ago:

This way I could be found by other users' searches and simultaneously "protect my identity", a concept which is pretty hilarious considering the context, and probably faaaaar too telling of how I ended up looking to the internet for a boyfriend in the first place.

While I realize that this blog prompt is probably intended to have us discuss identity construction on the web (and believe me, I'm interested-I almost wrote my thesis on it), I find it more interesting, in this context at least, to note how I "read" others' as possible dating prospects.

I spent a week going back and forth on quitting the site, one of my reasons being "what kind of guy posts a detailed profile on an online dating site?" And then realizing, I guess I'm one of those kinds too, and I'm not totally creepy and awful (most of the time).

I learned that my priorities in scanning these profiles went like thus:

1. Photo(s)-Superficial, I know, but it's kind of the beauty of this website as no one has to know how superficial you actually may be.
2. Interests-Music being the main factor, as it's actually been a deal-breaker with many of my past exploits.
3. Self-Summary-This falls last on the list because of my penchant for self-reflexivity. I thought about how difficult and tedious it was for me to write that part (and how half-assedly I did it) and took that into consideration when reading others'.

Herein I realized that none of this information mattered all that much.

I found that I approached these profiles the same way I approach meeting men in real life, being that I make my first judgement (in real life by that esoteric "chemistry" factor) based on username, photo, and turn of phrase, basically, and from there appropriate all other information to fit into my preconceived opinion about the person. "You like the situationists? Well, it could be worse, at least you like social theory...and you are wearing a nirvana t-shirt in that one photo..."

So to end this post that could go on forever, the moral of the story is...regardless of how we present ourselves on the web or in real life, we're going to see what we want to see, and therefore others will see us subjectively as well. So does it even matter if you're "being yourself"?

Materiality

When examining the effect of material medium on readers of texts, I'm inherently inclined to be self-reflexive and "represent," as the kids say these days.

Living in an urban setting subversively embeds in one's psyche, if nothing else, that "time is money." What does that mean for the dying race of bookworms? It means that you've either got to alienate yourself as a luddite, comprimise the city experience by burying your nose in a novel at all times...or find a different way to read.

I try to do a little of both, personally, though the former is rarer and rarer as my busy schedule gets busier. I admit it: i get my textual entertainment from podcasts. Lots and lots of podcasts.

This way I can, say, write this blog post AND listen to the news.

So what's the effect? Well scientists say that my generation is therefore better at multitasking, but practically inept at focusing on any one thing at time. The biggest effect I've noticed is that the experience of a story is different...and some would argue worse.

There is a similar argument to the problem of video games on a new generation: that the imagination is becoming useless. When I hear a story on PRI's "Selected Shorts", the character's voices (their accents, emphasizers, temperments) are given to me. The audio tone is set for me without any effort of my own. This can be a bad thing because I lose the aspect of reading which challenges me to relate my own perceptions of humanity to "hear" the voices in my head. However, having this audial-given lends to my brain the capacity to concentrate on a more vivid visual presentation in my mind. It also allows my mind to wander a bit more easily than if I were deliberately holding a book in front of me.


One loses that magical effect of holding papyrus between the fingers. The text no longer reads in some abstract voice in your mind, transporting you to an alternate reality that only you at that very moment get to discover. Instead, is spoonfed to you while you simultaneously smoke a cigarette, do your laundry, and surf facebook.

I suppose there's therefore some merit in the attempts of kindle and the like brining stories in text-form back to the bookworms of the world. But I think kindle is just weird. After all, books aren't that expensive.

The PWP Grows...slowly but surely.

I missed class and the assignments last week because...well because I bit off more than I can chew this semester, and I'm still trying to get a hold on it. I wish I had a better excuse (I stayed up for about 4 days working on the first chunk of my thesis), but I don't.

I have, however, been racking my brain for ideas for the PWP, since the ones I've come up with so far seem either implausible or just not that good. Therefore, I've given up on trying to double-dip, sigh.

I've been toiling with an idea for a blog for almost two years now, and I've decided to use this frustrating situation to just take the leap and do it. It's called WILT (What I Learned Today), and I hope it's not been overdone too much before. It'll be a (daily would be ideal eventually, but for now just as often as possible) blog about just that: what I learned today, and my reflection on that knowledge. I promise it will have cool interesting facts, links, videos, etc. The other aspect of it would be things I learned about myself or how I perceive the world around me, so kind of a daily intellectual devotional with a psychoanalytical twist. I can refrain from the second part if it's too rant-y for this class, but I suppose we'll talk about that on Thursday.

Sorry for the text wall! Next one will be better!