So I think it’s pretty clear that I am not a business major. In fact, the last time I took any kind of “business” class was when I was in a senior in high school and I had to take the New York State required economics class. And the only things I remember in that class were my teacher’s insistence that there is no such thing as a free lunch and watching Shark Tank episodes to learn about equity….
Insert this week’s blog. The last blog post before I put forth all of my efforts into the final project for this course. At first, I was worried that my status as the only member of my family without some sort of a business related degree (only B.A. grad and proud!) was going to bite me in the behind as I tried to sift through the various internet economies.
Thankfully, Lessig makes the concepts very approachable and identifiable even in my arguably cursory interactions with such establishments. Lessig identifies three main economies: commercial, shared, and hybrid economies. Commercial economies is what I would call the default; the one that comes to most people’s minds when you mention an economy. Lessig defines it as “an economy in which money or ‘price’ is a central term of the ordinary, or normal, exchange.” Simply put, its the economy that exists in a store, whether brick and mortar or e-commerce, where the dollar is king. However, a shared economy is when, according to Lessig, “money is not appropriate” but is actually poisonous to the exchange. While Lessig compares it primarily to a friendship (which becomes something completely different when you start paying people for their time and company), the first thing that came to my mind were Facebook Groups.
As I’ve mentioned before, I am a middle school teacher at a very small Catholic School. The school is so small in fact that I am the only English Teacher in the building. The school goes from nursery to 8th grade and I am the only teacher who gives instruction to the middle schoolers for English. This is the same for all four core subjects (math, social studies, science, and English). Teaching is a career that cannot be done in isolation. It is such a personal and subjective career that one of the most sought after resources is interactions with teachers of the same discipline. In a typical school, a department would have opportunities for this interaction through meetings, professional developments, and course offerings. However, my school does not have the personnel to offer such interactions, so I find myself turning to the Internet for the support and resources.
This is especially true with the current environment. With all of the schools in New York State closed until April 29 (and most likely longer if I had to guess), the need for collaboration sky rocketed as teachers were thrust into new and unchartered waters. Entire curricula had to be made virtual, digital, and accessible in what felt like mere seconds. Before I could even consider how I would approach this, I received an invitation on Facebook to join a group titled “Teaching Through the Pandemic.” There were already hundreds of posts. Teachers seeking resources, advice, and assistance across grade levels and disciplines. Teachers asking for prayers, emotional support, sharing funny photos and stories, offering information from different states. An entire shared economy had sprung up in an instant. People were sharing information, support, and advice to ensure that we were prepared in ways that we didn’t even know we needed.
Although the activity subsided after the first few weeks once the majority of teachers got their footing and better understood how to complete their work online, the group continued. Stories were shared, updates about the virus’ many curves, and quick tech fixes in language that was way easier to follow than an IT assist still populate the group on a regular basis. So even in the midst of what feels like the end of the world, shared economies and communities are still being built, allowing people to exchange help, ideas, and goods, and without asking for a single cent in return,
Which, when you think about it, is really kind of beautiful. In its own, sci-fi movie way.
Growing up in my predominately conservative hometown, I heard others refer to feminists using many colorful words and phrases. It was only until I went to a different high school outside of my hometown (a Catholic one no less) and expanded my circle to some of the most forward thinking people I have ever met that I truly understood what a feminist is and how they are best defined. Add to this new appreciation the incredible movements such as the Women’s March and the #MeToo movement and I quickly recognized why they are so necessary for the furthering of our society.
Enter Donna Haraway and her comparison to the cyborg. Now I’ll admit, at first I was a bit insulted and confused. A cyborg? The half machine, monsters that usually terrorize innocent heroes in a whacky sci-fi movie? Was this some attempt in dehumanizing this mentality and vital movement?
But upon further reading, I understood not only the text, but also it’s continued relevance even now. Haraway argues that the cyborg is representative of the duality and irony that is at the heart of the socialist feminist movement. I specifically appreciated her definition of irony as “the tension of holding incompatible things together because both or all are necessary and true.” I applied this definition to her idea of a cyborg as the condensed image of both imagination and material reality. In my understanding of feminist ideals, such duality must exist in order to succeed. Feminists, and any major movement that intends to bring about societal change, must be aware not only of their (at times lofty) ideals, hopes, and intentions, but also the harsh reality of the world that they are operating in. This contrast is at the core of many movements. Those who are working towards their ideals must be able to understand and work within the realities they find themselves in. This bridge then creates this quasi-being, similar to a cyborg.
As a result, the cyborg becomes much more than the cliche character discussed earlier. It instead serves as the monster of Frankenstein for various political and social movements: an assortment of ideologies, actions, and realities that continue to morph and distort to fit the current environment to ensure the movement’s survival. The feminist cyborg, however, differs from Frankenstein’s monster in an explicit way. Haraway states that “unlike the hopes of Frankenstein’s monster, the cyborg does not expect its father to save it through a restoration of the garden.” While in this phrase, Haraway is directly critiquing the monster’s need for a heterosexual mate, this can be applied to the feminist cyborg. The movement does not depend on the restoration and protection of those who caused the first ripple. Instead, it depends on future generations and ideals to allow it to grow and morph into what is needed for that relevant moment.
I was also intrigued by the application of the cyborg to the feminist ideals when considering an earlier module I completed for this course: memes. Just as far right extremists and other less than savory groups can identify their followers and those with similar mindsets by tracking reactions and interactions with “harmless” memes, so too could this digital world be used to mold and shape the feminist movement as well as assist in identifying those who could benefit from inclusion in such a movement.
So in short, yes, Haraway’s ideas are still relevant even in the year 2020. The ironic duality that creates the core contrast and conflict of the movement has only evolved and furthered in today’s society. Especially with a global pandemic, the role and treatment of women is on display more so than just a few short weeks ago (which somehow feels like another era completely). Haraway’s connection to the cyborg simply offers an explanation of the bridges and evolution necessary in such a movement to not only protect it as times change, but also to ensure its continued efforts to achieve its ideals and goals despite the changing and increasingly digital world.
And now, a cyborg cat meme to make you smile in these crazy times! 
Let’s start off with some real talk. Life is so damn weird right now. There is some much stronger language I would love to use but I promised myself I would remain calm. It’s incredible how in just a few short weeks, a collection of seemingly random letters and numbers (the new “he who must not be named”) has brought the entire world to its knees. It’s been a full week since my school shut down and moved to remote learning. I have not interacted with anyone outside of my home for seven days. I have been outside three times and only once did that involve speaking to someone, and I have forbade myself from watching the news lest it lead to yet another Earth shattering anxiety attack fueled by waiting for the other shoe to drop and feeling so completely helpless in this chaotic time. Simply put, life is a mess right now, but I am determined to move forward regardless.
So! This week’s readings.
The idea of digital narratives always seemed so lofty to me. This high level of narrative that encompasses tools and techniques that I could only dream of existing. This academic gold mine that exists somewhere behind a wall of code that I would never be able to understand let alone participate in. Enter the Punday reading. At first glance, it seemed to match my initial thoughts, but on further and closer inspection, one line stood out to me. To summarize, Punday argues that to play a video game is to interact with real rules while imaging a fictional world and a video game is a set of rules as well as a fictional world.
It took me a few attempts to fully understand it. Was Punday really arguing that, video games of all things, could be considered literature? To me, the two were completely separate. But then again, since beginning graduate school (and college in general if I’m being honest with myself) my preconceived ideas about literature and academics and just life as a whole have been shaken, stirred, and otherwise altered.
I had to marinate this concept for a bit. Could video games really be seen as a literature? I decided to further explore Punday’s writing, specifically regarding hyperlink texts. Once upon a time, my sister and I were avid players of an app game called Episodes that seemed to fit Punday’s models and analysis. I’m sure some remember playing it, if not seeing ads for it on all other social medias. I redownloaded the app and played it for a few hours. For academic reasons of course. Completely for research and nothing to do with the boredom that comes with social distancing and isolation…
Episodes is a pretty straight forward platform. It follows both temporal and choose your own adventure hyperlink stories. The reader/player is quickly orientated into the world and they interact with the story in a mostly linear fashion aside from a few key choices that alter the storyline according to the actions decided upon by the choice that was made. This creates a characterized audience that appears largely in control of the story line. However, in light of Punday’s findings, there is something to be said in the intrigue present in the story. While yes, Episode allows readers to take control of the plot line in making key choices, the choices are limited and, at times, primarily based on temporal hyperlinks. Additionally, one of the app’s main claims to fame (or infamy depending on your interactions and personal opinion) is that it allows readers to take on the role of designer and author. Readers are able to create their own stories and submit them to the app to be approved and released for other players to interact with it. While this opens the door to greater exploration for the readers as they can now take the proverbial wheel, it causes the reader positioning and experience to vary greatly depending on who is designing the interactive literature. The variability of hyperlink structure and style leads to mixed reviews on each of the “stories” available. I can’t help but wonder if it was this variability that eventually turned me off to the app however long ago. While I appreciate the app’s attempt to further its reach and tap into the imagination and inspiration of its users, I wonder if it would benefit from some stronger filtering and attempts to focus more so on the role of the author as designer, rather than just an author.
While this week gave me a welcome reprieve into a once forgotten and familiar platform, it also forced me to further question my understanding of literature. I was left with the (however uneasy) decision that Episodes and other video games do in fact fit into the category. Just as a reader is expected to be familiar enough with the genre or historical context of the written piece in order to best understand and interact with it, so too must the audience or player be familiar with the world in which they interact and “read” in a video game. So I guess yes, even THAT is considered literature.
Clearly I couldn’t begin a blog post about memes without actually using one, that would just be a complete waste of an opportunity.
I would like to say that I am no stranger to memes. First and foremost, as a middle school teacher, my students are constantly making references to memes and other jokes that make me feel as though I have aged considerably overnight. Additionally, I spend more time than I would like to admit on social media where I stumble across my fair share of meme and meme based images.
However, I have never truly considered the social impact of memes prior to completing this module. At first I was unsure as to the best way to approach analyzing these images aside from whether I found them funny or crude. In reading Milner’s article about the social implications of memes, I found it amazing that a group of pixels manipulated by anonymous users online could serve as a stark litmus test for our society.
Milner spends the majority of his piece explaining the power of trolling and how it implicates societal attitudes. Although I had used the word countless times, I found myself unable to define what it means to “troll” prior to reading this piece. According to Milner, trolls find entertainment at other people’s expense, creating a decisive us vs. them dichotomy that creates two specific groups: those who troll in an attempt to cause harm or otherwise discomfort to a group, and those who are the victim of trolling. What I found particularly interesting was the amount of trolling that was targeting specifically to women and minorities. Although there are some memes that target the white male, even those succeed at some small scale in disenfranchising the other groups. Something as nondescript as a “she’s out of his league” joke, which initially appears to be targeting the male as the victim of trolling, minimize the woman involved to be nothing more than a sexualized body that exists only for the benefit and conquest of the male, successful or not. A popular meme, “Friend Zone Fiona” also exists for this purpose.
However, for every person who is offended by one of these images, there is another claiming that it is simply a “joke.” Despite Poe’s Law stating that there is an innate difficulty in understanding the intent of a post, thus making its status as a joke or insult unclear, I would have to disagree. Jokes, even the most innocent, are based in some form of truth. It is nearly impossible to make a statement purely for jest without some level of underlying belief or ideal behind it. Take, for example, a more racially motivated meme such as “Successful Black Man” or the “build your fort” manipulation presented on Reddit. Many members of extremist groups create or manipulate images such as these as a litmus test of sorts for those viewing it. An agreement with the image (whether in outright agreement, laughter, or further manipulation that maintains the same message) is, in a way, an indirect agreement with the ideals that motivated such an image. Simply put, why would one find such an image funny? And what does that say about the viewer and their ideals or intentions.
Milner’s social views on memes had a notable impact on my understanding of memes and their ability to filter society into a number of groupings based on the images that one finds interesting, humorous, or worthy of manipulation. This “magic” aspect of memes to be manipulated and individual yet still be able to stand for a differentiated discourse in society was fascinating. But the concept of Meme Warfare was, frankly, terrifying.
I had seen Pepe the Frog back when he was considered to be “Dat boi” or “sad boi” (am I aging myself once more?). However, perhaps I lived under a rock during the 2016 election because I had no recollection of Kek or Pepe being used as an alt-right icon to support the election of Donald Trump. Although it first seemed far fetched to me, I was frightened by how possible it seemed. Just as the aforementioned meme magic is able to serve as a decisive litmus test for the ideals of society, so too could a meme influence and sway something as decisive as a presidential election. Although some may write it off as a hoax or over exaggeration, have we not seen the power of suggestion on smaller scales? Add to that the fact that the Alt-Right has specifically and intentionally manipulated the imagery with their own form of (dark) meme magic to better serve their purpose and we have a witches brew custom made for the election.
So what I’m left with is the struggle between the magic and the warfare of memes. At the surface they serve as a creative outlet that shows the pop culture’s development at the rapid pace of the internet. But underneath the colors and jokes and laughter lies something darker: a terrifyingly accurate portrayal of the current societal beliefs and expectations.
We’re rapidly approaching another presidential election and I, for one, am both interested and somewhat terrified to see what implications meme magic and warfare have on its societal implications and impacts.
…. Now that’s something I never thought I’d have to say.
The concept of digital rhetoric always seemed so straight forward to me. In the past, I defined it as online writing. Simplistic? Absolutely. Accurate? Well, I thought so at least.
Part of the reason for this simplistic definition was a lack of information on my part. Just as my undergraduate degree opened up a much deeper understanding of written works and the classical rhetoric devices that I had yet to discover or encounter, so has this weeks’ readings presented a deeper understanding of digital rhetoric theory, specifically in connection to the concept of remediation.
In reading Eyman’s piece analyzing the rhetorical practices of “traditional” pieces (that is to say, any piece that exists outside of the digital and multimodal world) and comparing them with the digital applications of the same practices, I found the table below to be the most informative representation of digital rhetoric.
Now, not only was this table enlightening regarding its ability to explain the direct differences and evolution of rhetoric between the classical use and its digital practice, but it also served as a direct example of the multimodal practices that the piece itself was analyzing. I found this table specifically helpful with the understanding of the canonical rhetorical practice of invention. Eyman argues that while invention has previously been understood as discovery in which writers seek out materials to inspire their own work (digital or printed), rhetors use invention as discovery in order to create multimodal interactions and electronic discourse for the audience. This more social form of invention allows the creators to be more concerned with the practice than the product. There is no singular “final draft” of a digital piece as there is with a printed piece. With the inclusion of an analysis of the arrangement of the piece, the audience is able to interact with the piece in any number of ways based on the order in which they encounter, manipulate, and explore the multimodal attributes of the piece. Thus, which each different decision and choice, the audience is in turn inventing and discovering a new aspect of the piece and therefore changing the understanding and interaction with the piece as a whole.
This ability to invent and discover varying versions of the same text as a result of multimodal aspects connected to Bolter and Grusin’s concept of re-mediation. One line that stood out in particular was that “Our culture wants both to multiply its media and to erase all traces of mediation: it wants to erase its media in the very act of multiplying technologies of mediation.”
What a mouthful (eyeful? Brainful? What is the digital version of this saying? Another thing that led me to ponder). After much internal grappling, my understanding of this phrase can be explained as follows.
In our current dealings with digital rhetoric and medias, our desired interaction is both twofold and seemingly contradictory. We, as consumers, wish to digitize as much of our lives as possible. This can be seen most simply in the increasing presence of apps that accomplish to organize aspects of our lives to the point that we “never knew how we functioned without them.” But the point remains that we are in fact able to function without these apps and tools. Instead, our desire to digitize stems from a perceived ease and simplicity despite the unseen or unnoticed efforts that go into the creation and regulation of such tools. This perceived ease leads me to my next point: we, as consumers, do not wish to be aware of the digitizing of our lives. Along with the digitizing of day to day activities, we want it to appear spontaneous and natural rather than be reminded of the work that goes on behind the interface of every app. We all depend on a variety of technological tools in which we take the finer details for granted until there is an issue that needs to be rectified. The ability of a phone to load content from an internet source goes unnoticed until that website takes what we deem to be as too long to load. This inconvenience makes the media visible and, as a result, undesirable despite its role in our daily lives.
Take for example, the concept of virtual reality as Bolter and Grusin analyze. They state that the virtual reality success is dependent on its “immersive” quality. A consumer must be able to interact with the virtual world (another form of digital invention) but the mediation behind the immersive experience must remain invisible to the consumer or the technology has failed. Thus, in order for media to succeed, it must be both completely visible and invisible simultaneously. I, for one, will never take computer graphics for granted again…
So, what’s the point? Where is the connection between digital rhetoric and remediation? It seems compellingly simple yet intensively complex all things do (I’m beginning to think the world can be explained as nothing more than a series of complex oxymorons). Just as digital rhetoric can be seen as a reclassification of traditional rhetoric, so too can remediation be seen as a reclassification of media’s role in our lives. Digital rhetoric can be traced back to the classic arguments and canons of rhetoric albeit evolved to better fit the everchanging digital world and the various roles of those involved. Remediation, as a result, creates an evolved view of media’s central role in the consumption and interaction of digital works. Just as digital rhetoric redefines the arrangement and invention of digital works, so too does remediation redefine the arrangement and invention of media’s role in the digital world we find ourselves in.
Hello Wonderful People of the Internet!
Wow it’s been a long time since I’ve even attempted to write a blog. To be fair, the last time I did was for a class as well, but keeping up with THAT sure didn’t happen. Alas, it is true: the purpose of creating this blog is a requirement for a Graduate Course (EGL 614 to be exact).
My name is Megan Callahan (although I’m sure that wasn’t very hard to figure out). I graduated from Stony Brook University in May of 2018 with my B.A. in English Literature and my “Initial Secondary Teacher’s License” (fancy New York talk for “I can teach but I still need more school). I took a year off from the academic world after being hired as the sole Middle School English Language Arts teacher in a small Catholic School in Nassau County. I teach about 75 students in grades 7 and 8 in all things “ELA” (make of that what you will). After (barely) surviving my first year at the front of the classroom, I returned to Stony Brook to begin my MA in English Literature. Once a Seawolf, Always a Seawolf and all that.
This is my second semester as a part time graduate student while still teaching full time. In fact, I am writing this first entry during my last period “prep” after 17 students just left my class for another. I have a feeling many of these posts will be written in the same manner.
So, why did I enroll in this class? The first reason is, selfishly, that it is an online course and the commute from my job to Stony Brook is absolutely atrocious. This class saves me a good amount of gas, traffic, and overall headache. Additionally, I would be blind not to see that digital rhetoric is becoming more and more prevalent in both education, and society as a whole. My school utilizes a one to one iPad program and it always fascinates me to see how my students are learning, creating, and reacting to the world differently with a screen in front of them rather than how I did back in the “Dark Ages.” This class fascinated me in its ability to better understand digital rhetoric as well as (hopefully) introduce me to some new multimedia tools that I could use in my classroom. The funny pictures and colorful text on PowerPoints just don’t seem to impress them like they used to.
Here’s to a new semester, a new adventure, and plenty of digital rambling.
Apologies in advance!
Megan
