I'm a pretty technologically savvy person. I have several very fast computers at my fingertips at almost all times of the day. I also love to stay informed, and I consume information at a rate much higher than average.
My confession: I absolutely can't stand information to be delivered to me in the form of video. When my favorite news sites list headlines that link to video new stories, I avoid them completely. When I click on something and only then find out that it has led me to a video player, I close the window immediately. Even my favorite bloggers, who are in many ways virtual friends, occasionally post video content that I often can't force myself to sit still and watch.
Why is this? Why do I hate video? I don't hate watching TV, though I watch less of it than most. My only plausible theory is that when I'm engaged in a technology setting, I need to be in control of the rate at which I get my information. I want to scan, choose, and process according to my own pace and priority. Video makes me feel like a hostage to the agenda set by the producer of the video.
I'm conflicted somewhat, because as an information architect involved in the marketing world, video is a huge part of my professional landscape. My personal abhorrence of video may skew my professional viewpoints about the value of video in the general marketplace. I will have to work on the proper balance.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Pinteresting
Sadly and with no good excuse, I'm often late to jump on some really cool bandwagons.
Some co-workers and I were discussing various ways that people share ideas/likes/inspiration online, and how most of those tools are awfully utilitarian. There are a few sharing/bookmarking tools that have taken a strong visual twist. Flickr has a significant piece of that pie, but it's confined to the images that have been uploaded, which are in turn confined (to a degree) by ownership of the images. Canv.as was an interesting experiment, and clearly some people love it, but I was completely baffled by it and abandoned it within a couple of days.
The one that currently has my attention is Pinterest. It's easy to understand, easy to browse, it's entirely visual, and the "Pin" tool used to add items is super easy to use. It has all the good stuff...the social aspects of sharing, following, liking, re-sharing, etc. It's flexible, too, with the ability to configure your own system of categorization and labeling.
How many times have you had time on your hands and yet you open a browser and think "Ugh, I think I've read the entire internet and I'm bored with it all!" Somehow this one simple tool has made me see the internet with a new eye. I look forward to a few minutes here and there of browsing for beauty. Suddenly the idea of having digital, visual inspiration boards opens up a whole new supply of creative energy. I have an itch to collect images of everything...remodeling ideas for my house, places I want to travel, even design elements I like that might influence my work.
What is it about this one little tool that made me feel like the internet is fresh again? Can we learn from this and apply it elsewhere? What is Pinterest teaching us?
Some co-workers and I were discussing various ways that people share ideas/likes/inspiration online, and how most of those tools are awfully utilitarian. There are a few sharing/bookmarking tools that have taken a strong visual twist. Flickr has a significant piece of that pie, but it's confined to the images that have been uploaded, which are in turn confined (to a degree) by ownership of the images. Canv.as was an interesting experiment, and clearly some people love it, but I was completely baffled by it and abandoned it within a couple of days.
The one that currently has my attention is Pinterest. It's easy to understand, easy to browse, it's entirely visual, and the "Pin" tool used to add items is super easy to use. It has all the good stuff...the social aspects of sharing, following, liking, re-sharing, etc. It's flexible, too, with the ability to configure your own system of categorization and labeling.
How many times have you had time on your hands and yet you open a browser and think "Ugh, I think I've read the entire internet and I'm bored with it all!" Somehow this one simple tool has made me see the internet with a new eye. I look forward to a few minutes here and there of browsing for beauty. Suddenly the idea of having digital, visual inspiration boards opens up a whole new supply of creative energy. I have an itch to collect images of everything...remodeling ideas for my house, places I want to travel, even design elements I like that might influence my work.
What is it about this one little tool that made me feel like the internet is fresh again? Can we learn from this and apply it elsewhere? What is Pinterest teaching us?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Are you missing something?
How many times have you checked Facebook today? How many text messages have you sent and received? The last time you lost or left your phone, how much anxiety did you feel about what you were missing?
A term that is new to me has recently flitted across my feed reader from a couple of different places: Fear of Missing Out.
The concept isn't new at all, it's as old as dirt and we've all felt it. The reason people are talking about it now is that something has changed the game.
Catarina Fake (co-founder of Flickr) has an interesting perspective on FOMO:
But don't be deceived. When you’re excited about something you tend to share more. Without really trying to, we’re creating a version of our lives that showcases the happiest and most interesting moments. So our perception of “what’s happening now” in our social networks is skewed by its very nature. It’s not even a remotely realistic basis to compare to your own social calendar.
There is something more disturbing about this though: FOMO is changing who we are, influencing human behavior. The constant distraction of what ELSE might be happening plagues us to the point where “checking” our sources becomes obsessive. Rather than cultivating a truly meaningful connection with the friend or family member next to us, we are constantly distracted the possibility that something better might be happening. FOMO is actually altering our ability to relate to others, prioritize information streams, and participate in meaningful relationships.
Is there an upside? Of course. Mighty Girl posted about this same topic and came away with a refreshing lesson: let social media influence the choices you make in a good way:
A term that is new to me has recently flitted across my feed reader from a couple of different places: Fear of Missing Out.
The concept isn't new at all, it's as old as dirt and we've all felt it. The reason people are talking about it now is that something has changed the game.
Catarina Fake (co-founder of Flickr) has an interesting perspective on FOMO:
"Social media has made us even more aware of the things we are missing out on. You’re home alone, but watching your friends status updates tell of a great party happening somewhere. You are aware of more parties than ever before."The instant and ubiquitous information about what's happening elsewhere touches some basic insecurities. We can't help it. Only this isn't just about party photos and restaurant check-ins. I see posts about a friend getting a PhD and I think "should I have gone to graduate school?" and photos of someone's European vacation make me twitchy with envy. Facebook has this disturbing ability to make me question everything from what I had for lunch to my major life decisions.
But don't be deceived. When you’re excited about something you tend to share more. Without really trying to, we’re creating a version of our lives that showcases the happiest and most interesting moments. So our perception of “what’s happening now” in our social networks is skewed by its very nature. It’s not even a remotely realistic basis to compare to your own social calendar.
There is something more disturbing about this though: FOMO is changing who we are, influencing human behavior. The constant distraction of what ELSE might be happening plagues us to the point where “checking” our sources becomes obsessive. Rather than cultivating a truly meaningful connection with the friend or family member next to us, we are constantly distracted the possibility that something better might be happening. FOMO is actually altering our ability to relate to others, prioritize information streams, and participate in meaningful relationships.
Is there an upside? Of course. Mighty Girl posted about this same topic and came away with a refreshing lesson: let social media influence the choices you make in a good way:
"Seeing what I’m “missing” has shaped how I decide to spend my time, reminded me to fill my life with stuff that makes me feel like there’s nowhere else I’d rather be."Catarina also points out that not all this is wasted effort. Some of these social media connections are valuable and fulfilling:
"There is true meaning in social media—real connections, real friendships, devotion, humor, sacrifice, joy, depth, love. And this is what we are looking for when we log on."In the end, it was a point made in this article that put all of this into context for me. The technology itself is not completely to blame, nor are we. Just like any other relationship, our relationship with social media takes time to cultivate and mature:
"... our relationship with technology is still in its infancy, and we’re still feeling our ways around it. We don’t quite know how to interact well — mindfully, meaningfully — with it."I fully expect that on the whole we will grow to be more guarded with what we share and with whom. We will choose our connections more carefully, and then invest the proper energy into maintaining those connections. I also expect that we will evolve our technology to give us the tools to know the difference between the "Fear of Missing Out" and "Making Choices that Matter."
Thursday, April 21, 2011
How did I get here? (Part 3)
(continued from Part 2, found here)
I did quite well as a programmer after all, despite the fact that in the real world of the late-90s technology boom, I was not outstanding by any measure. My technical skills were good, but not exceptional. The advantage that set me apart from many of my peers at the time was that I could talk to people. Most of the truly exceptional technical people were truly unexceptional at human communication.
Over the next several years I traversed a number of different industries (accounting, travel, collaboration software, more travel) as well as a variety technical skills. I was the one who could talk to clients, stakeholders, and other business units and actually understand what they needed. I could also talk to the technical teams and bridge that communication divide. When the technology bubble burst, a huge number of my former co-workers were out of a job for months or longer. I had two things going for me that kept me from the same fate: relentless adaptation, and my people side. But, as you might expect, circumstances change, like they do.
I'll keep this part brief, so as not to veer into the morose, but I experienced a bit of a shakabuku in the summer and fall of 2004. My father became very ill and passed away in August of that year. Some part of the technical side of me that he had inspired went with him. My heart wasn't in it anymore. My boss was a wonderful, understanding person who was flexible with me as I stepped back from my professional life for a few months. I threw myself deep into an artistic venture for a while, in a kind of whiplash of trying to make life into something beautiful and meaningful in a new way. When my head had cleared and I realized I needed to make a decision about my career, I told my boss I couldn't do programming anymore.
Rather than let me quit and walk away, she talked me into meeting with another woman at the company who was starting to build a User Experience department from the ground up. She talked to me about Information Architecture, and gave me a couple of books and articles to read. I was intrigued enough to give it a chance. Under her mentorship, I found my footing, and I found something that made me professionally fulfilled.
Now, I've found my way into marketing, up to my eyeballs in agency life. If you had asked me at any point in my career, it's the LAST place I would have predicted I would go. Ironically, though, looking at my training and my abilities, it makes absolute perfect sense. Technology plus people. Function plus feeling. It's the same counterpoint, again.
I love my job, my company, and the wonderful people I work with. I love the opportunities that I have, and I love the past experiences that give me some unique and very productive insights into my work. There are endless challenges as well as frustrations. Many things about work and business don't really change in any substantive way. But there are also successes, and most of all, there is relentless adaptation.
-End-
I did quite well as a programmer after all, despite the fact that in the real world of the late-90s technology boom, I was not outstanding by any measure. My technical skills were good, but not exceptional. The advantage that set me apart from many of my peers at the time was that I could talk to people. Most of the truly exceptional technical people were truly unexceptional at human communication.
Over the next several years I traversed a number of different industries (accounting, travel, collaboration software, more travel) as well as a variety technical skills. I was the one who could talk to clients, stakeholders, and other business units and actually understand what they needed. I could also talk to the technical teams and bridge that communication divide. When the technology bubble burst, a huge number of my former co-workers were out of a job for months or longer. I had two things going for me that kept me from the same fate: relentless adaptation, and my people side. But, as you might expect, circumstances change, like they do.
I'll keep this part brief, so as not to veer into the morose, but I experienced a bit of a shakabuku in the summer and fall of 2004. My father became very ill and passed away in August of that year. Some part of the technical side of me that he had inspired went with him. My heart wasn't in it anymore. My boss was a wonderful, understanding person who was flexible with me as I stepped back from my professional life for a few months. I threw myself deep into an artistic venture for a while, in a kind of whiplash of trying to make life into something beautiful and meaningful in a new way. When my head had cleared and I realized I needed to make a decision about my career, I told my boss I couldn't do programming anymore.
Rather than let me quit and walk away, she talked me into meeting with another woman at the company who was starting to build a User Experience department from the ground up. She talked to me about Information Architecture, and gave me a couple of books and articles to read. I was intrigued enough to give it a chance. Under her mentorship, I found my footing, and I found something that made me professionally fulfilled.
Now, I've found my way into marketing, up to my eyeballs in agency life. If you had asked me at any point in my career, it's the LAST place I would have predicted I would go. Ironically, though, looking at my training and my abilities, it makes absolute perfect sense. Technology plus people. Function plus feeling. It's the same counterpoint, again.
I love my job, my company, and the wonderful people I work with. I love the opportunities that I have, and I love the past experiences that give me some unique and very productive insights into my work. There are endless challenges as well as frustrations. Many things about work and business don't really change in any substantive way. But there are also successes, and most of all, there is relentless adaptation.
-End-
How did I get here? (Part 2)
(continued from Part 1, found here)
I dove into a series of Liberal Arts classes that I chose only because I liked the subject. Literature, art, humanities, anthropology, film, and even criminology. I became fascinated by a number of different subjects in Sociology. I think I somehow lost track of the fact that I was supposed to be trying to graduate with a degree in something. Luckily my interests had brought me within a few course hours of a degree in Sociology.
I know what you're thinking, because a lot of people asked me the same thing: "then what?" With a degree in Sociology, your only real option other than flipping burgers is to go immediately to graduate school (to study more Sociology, or maybe law, but the options are slim).
It was a bit of a shock to realize that I was going to be utterly unemployable. I was about to start my fourth year and I had managed to mature enough to realize that a reasonably secure, salaried job was something that would be important for my future.
I spent a few days reading, re-reading, and cross-checking the course catalogs to understand my options. What I found was unexpected: Management Information Systems in the School of Business. A business degree? Yes, a business degree. The combination of my early semesters of math, science, and engineering fit well with the technical requirements of that degree. All my subjects-of-interest fit the liberal arts requirements closely too. I only needed a couple of core business classes which I could cover pretty easily in my last year. Ta-dah! Employable!
Oddly enough, it worked.
I got a wonderful job at a major accounting/consulting firm as...a programmer. (!)
As it turns out, this counterpoint of technology and sociology has become a theme in my life. A theme that has connected me with incredible people, ideas, and opportunities.
(to be continued in Part 3, found here)
I dove into a series of Liberal Arts classes that I chose only because I liked the subject. Literature, art, humanities, anthropology, film, and even criminology. I became fascinated by a number of different subjects in Sociology. I think I somehow lost track of the fact that I was supposed to be trying to graduate with a degree in something. Luckily my interests had brought me within a few course hours of a degree in Sociology.
I know what you're thinking, because a lot of people asked me the same thing: "then what?" With a degree in Sociology, your only real option other than flipping burgers is to go immediately to graduate school (to study more Sociology, or maybe law, but the options are slim).
It was a bit of a shock to realize that I was going to be utterly unemployable. I was about to start my fourth year and I had managed to mature enough to realize that a reasonably secure, salaried job was something that would be important for my future.
I spent a few days reading, re-reading, and cross-checking the course catalogs to understand my options. What I found was unexpected: Management Information Systems in the School of Business. A business degree? Yes, a business degree. The combination of my early semesters of math, science, and engineering fit well with the technical requirements of that degree. All my subjects-of-interest fit the liberal arts requirements closely too. I only needed a couple of core business classes which I could cover pretty easily in my last year. Ta-dah! Employable!
Oddly enough, it worked.
I got a wonderful job at a major accounting/consulting firm as...a programmer. (!)
As it turns out, this counterpoint of technology and sociology has become a theme in my life. A theme that has connected me with incredible people, ideas, and opportunities.
(to be continued in Part 3, found here)
How did I get here? (Part 1)
When I was about 7 years old, my dad sat me down in front of an ugly tan plastic box and said "here, let me show you how this works." It was an Apple II.
My dad was a school teacher, and he had a way of getting you interested in something without being authoritative and without having to turn it into entertainment. That's what made him a good teacher. So when he sat me in front of that computer, he didn't say "look how fun this is" and he didn't force me to learn about it the way other kids were forced to practice the piano. He just said "see if you can figure out how to make this thing show your name on the screen."
By the time I was 8 or 9, I was proficient at BASIC. The summer I was 9, I took a FunEd class to learn to program in Logo. Faster and better computers came and went in our house. I learned and then forgot a series of programming languages and tools (Hypercard, anyone? TrueBasic? Pascal?).
You would think I was headed for a future of computer-programming genius-ness. I though I was too for a while. My relationship with computers was effortless and fun, all the way through high school and into college.
I started school at the University of Texas in the fall of 1993 studying Computer Science. My programming classes were a breeze. The other classes required for a degree in in the School of Engineering were not. At the end of my third semester I still had pretty good grades but I started to realize something was missing.
I got on a bus one day and sat next to a classmate of mine named Scott. Scott looked tired, but he was ecstatic about something. He began to tell me how he had stayed up all night writing a firmware for a printer and that it was working. He didn't do it for an assignment. He did it for fun.
I got off the bus and later that week I changed my major to "undecided." It wasn't that I didn't like programming, I did. But I wasn't ever going to stay up all night writing firmware for fun.
(to be continued in Part 2, here.)
My dad was a school teacher, and he had a way of getting you interested in something without being authoritative and without having to turn it into entertainment. That's what made him a good teacher. So when he sat me in front of that computer, he didn't say "look how fun this is" and he didn't force me to learn about it the way other kids were forced to practice the piano. He just said "see if you can figure out how to make this thing show your name on the screen."
By the time I was 8 or 9, I was proficient at BASIC. The summer I was 9, I took a FunEd class to learn to program in Logo. Faster and better computers came and went in our house. I learned and then forgot a series of programming languages and tools (Hypercard, anyone? TrueBasic? Pascal?).
You would think I was headed for a future of computer-programming genius-ness. I though I was too for a while. My relationship with computers was effortless and fun, all the way through high school and into college.
I started school at the University of Texas in the fall of 1993 studying Computer Science. My programming classes were a breeze. The other classes required for a degree in in the School of Engineering were not. At the end of my third semester I still had pretty good grades but I started to realize something was missing.
I got on a bus one day and sat next to a classmate of mine named Scott. Scott looked tired, but he was ecstatic about something. He began to tell me how he had stayed up all night writing a firmware for a printer and that it was working. He didn't do it for an assignment. He did it for fun.
I got off the bus and later that week I changed my major to "undecided." It wasn't that I didn't like programming, I did. But I wasn't ever going to stay up all night writing firmware for fun.
(to be continued in Part 2, here.)
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