How to read this "digital sketchbook"

I could have these posts display in reverse order, but that would involve messing with the publishing date. To preserve the real dates, I'm simply writing this. The first post is at the bottom of the page, titled "Icons, symbols, and indexes". The second post is the one above that and so on. For simplicity and readability, you could click this link, which will take you to the individual page for the first post. Then to move to the second post, click "< Newer" at the bottom of the post, read, and repeat.

n.b. Don't click the "Blog" link in the navigation bar - that will take you to my actual blog rather than this digital sketchbook. The sketchbook isn't linked to on the site, it's only accessible via the piersmw.com/tw130 link.

A quick thought about icons and symbols with some clarity

Not strictly related to the perception of the self online, but still pertinent to the digital world, icons and symbols play a large part of the virtual world many of us inhabit.

For example, on Facebook chat, next to the names of people it shows the word "Web" or "Mobile" and a dot, both in green. Across the web, green signifies availability in the way of a symbol - we as a society agree that it means available, red means away, and, on messaging services that support it, yellow/orange being a state of temporary unavailability or inactivity. These are symbols.

With Loren Carpenter's Pong experiment, holding up the green side of the paddle made the bat go up, and red made it go down. Although I've been told this, I would have just assumed that green would control up anyway, because as a color it has connotations of positivity and progress, such as with a traffic light.

With icons, it's so obvious that I'll just stick to the clichés - on my computer I see a trash can to delete things, I see a floppy disk to save.

However, there are arguments everywhere about what qualifies as an icon, and index, or a symbol. To clarify, again:

• An icon visually represents what it stands for - the trash can icon reminds you of disposing of things, so you know that's what it does on a computer
• A symbol is only linked to what it represents because society has instilled that link - such as green on a traffic light meaning go
• An index has a direct connection with the assumption you instinctively make - the classic one taught in communication studies is that "smoke is an index of fire" in that if you see smoke, you assume there's a fire. Or for the sake of relating it to the representation of the self topic, the assumptions that certain belongings of mine immediately and somewhat subconsciously instill in the minds of the viewer.

Those explanations comply with Peirce's classification of signs, the definition of symbol matches with Saussure's theory on the arbitrary link between signifiers and the signified, and flirts with Barthe's ideas of varying connotations.

Decorations

I've already explained in the post about Facebook Likes the mentality behind how I populate those lists, so now to expand on that further into the digital realm, but also into the physical.

My Facebook profile picture has been the same since 29th January 2012. Since then, I've changed glasses, hairstyle, fashion, grown up, and got somewhat of a beard - it's safe to say then that the profile picture isn't really representative of me anymore. Why haven't I updated it? Two reasons:

1. I'm very self conscious, and don't think I'm photogenic. I think I look ok in a mirror, but not in actuality. I also don't visibly smile much, and certainly not on camera. Therefore a passable photo of me is a rarity.
2. The amount of time the current one has been my profile picture has created a sort of expectation in my mind, that any profile picture to follow must be so 'good' that it too could potentially serve for over two years.

One day, I hope to update my profile picture, but today is not that day. I know it's all in my head, but that's the way my mind works. I overthink everything.

Moving on to other digital decorations, I like to use things that not only I like, but at the very least prompt an apathetic response from others. My desktop wallpaper and phone wallpaper are the same because it's a nice pattern and saved me the effort of finding something else, the user icon on my Windows desktop is the default flower because I couldn't be bothered to choose something else, and the one on my MacBook is a baseball (because I like baseball) from the default selection. In the world of semiotics, these, while being icons, are also indexes. They don't explicitly say "I couldn't be bothered to change it from the default" or "look at the apathy behind this - it mirrors my mentality, where I say very little so as to avoid creating positive or negative impressions on others", but it can be inferred without much difficulty or analysis.

I'm not saying that I'm apathetic either, I just create that impression. When it comes to decisions and views, I stand by my beliefs, which are rarely on the fence.

Anyway, from Facebook likes to wallpapers, you can get an idea of who I am. For wallpapers on my MacBook, I have the following:

Drawn by Gregor Czaykowski

The first is a photo of Paris from Wikimedia with the twelve jewels overlaid, the second is a slightly mood-lifting juxtaposition, and the third is from my favorite currently airing TV show. These alone have connotations about my personality and priorities. As 'decorated' as I keep my online space, albeit with an outdated photographic representation of myself, it cannot compare to the physical realm. While my room in the university halls doesn't feel like home (nowhere does), I've populated it with many staples of my identity.

In the first image is the large pinboard on the wall, on which I have two limited edition lithographs from a game I have fond memories of and a smaller lithograph from a disappointing game, the twelve jewels (again), a platinum disc for what is one of my all time favorite albums, a Giclée print of my favorite piece of art, and steelbooks for three films I like.

In the second image, the wall above the bed is populated with five posters for some of my favorite films. In the final image is a plethora of belongings. Ranging from and old camera, DVDs, collectibles, games, packaging, a cap for the baseball team I support, and an array of books, yet further assumptions about my personality and tastes could be drawn.

Once again with semiotics, the presence of these physical items tells more of a story than my Facebook likes does. Most of the items in the first two pictures cost small fortunes, but that emphasizes how much they mean to me. That I would dedicate wall space and money to those five films suggests I like them more than just a bit, and the framed disc and painting are equally emphatic statements.

As much as I do overthink things, and there's that saying about "not worrying about if others are thinking about you as they likely aren't", I can't help but try to create a representative image of myself. First impressions can count, as can subliminal impressions. If someone came into my room, just from the decorations they can garner, at the very least, my tastes.

I don't think a neutral impression is possible. My room is cluttered, and gives away my personality. If it were completely empty, that wouldn't suggest neutrality, it would suggest either minimalism or insanity. As with myself, as neutral and passive as I may seem, I'm clearly not. Everyone makes assumptions, judgements, and conclusions.

Emotional ties to inanimate objects

I'll just start this post of with a video (contains profanity).

I have owned a lot of phones. Some would say an abnormal amount.

There's actually a phone missing from the photo as it's away for repairs, but even just these five is still a lot. I've also had two Pocket PCs, two iPod touches, and four PDAs. For those of you who don't know, this is what a smartphone looked like in 2005:

I don't get rid of my old devices partly for sentimental reasons and partly because the SMS standard doesn't really have a method for backing up, nor do most mobile operating systems. Not all of the devices have a bond with me though. The first smartphone was admirable for its time and built like a tank, so it'll always have a place in my heart. The next one, the Touch Pro2, the great-great-grandson to the first, was painfully slow in day-to-day use, so isn't held in such fond memories. The Trophy, while limited, continues to operate to this day, and stepped back in to replace the absent phone, the One S, for over a year. The last phone, the One (M8), has currently managed to consolidate what used to be three devices into one, so I'd say it has a strong future.

In the past, I would carry the One S for media/camera, the Trophy as an actual phone, and my 64GB iPod touch for all my music and podcasts. Out of those three devices, the one that means the most to me is my iPod. While I myself don't make music, listening to and appreciating music is a big part of my life and personality - to lose my iPod would be to lose a part of me.

Because the One S stopped working as a phone and was painfully slow, I treated it poorly. Add HTC's marketing deception with the body being oxidized in such a way it should never need a case (when in actuality it got marked more than any device I've ever owned), and there's a recipe for mistreatment. If a phone treats me well, I will treat it well. If it frustrates me and doesn't function as it ought to, it's going to get thrown around. Interestingly enough, the One S was also the first phone I owned that never really felt like it was mine. It was a strange feeling, looking at it and thinking "but is this really mine?". Yes, I paid for it, and yes, I used it, but unlike all the phones that had come before it, it never felt as connected to me.

That link, which really is an emotional one, is a fascinating thing. How can I feel so emotionally connected to an inanimate object? I think it's because of what the device can do for me - if it's fast, keeps me in contact with others, keeps me informed with what's going on in the world, and plays podcasts and my music, there's going to be a bond which, as strange as it may sound, is symbiotic.

When Al did that experiment where we put our phones in paper bags for the duration of a lecture, I felt nothing. Not once did I feel a desire to check my phone. That's partly because my MacBook was in front of me so I was still connected to emails, IRC, and Facebook; partly because I don't have much of a social life; and partly because the phone was still only four feet from me and passcode protected. If my phone had been in another room without a passcode, I would have had a nervous breakdown within minutes. For me to know where my phone is and know that nobody else is using it leaves me with peace of mind. To know that somebody could be using it, exploiting it, makes me exceedingly insecure and nervous. In a way, my phone is my security blanket, my comfort object.

Liking pages on Facebook

As confusing as this may sound, when I 'like' a page on Facebook, I do so because I like what the page is about. If you were to look at my Facebook profile, you'd get a pretty good idea of my personality. My music tastes are the most complete section, where all the artists I like in real life are listed there - no more, no less.

When it comes to television, I tend to hold off on liking the Facebook page for it until I am caught up with watching it, so that not only do I avoid spoilers from the page itself, but that nobody else talks to me about it until I know as much about it as possible. Sad? Yes. Phoney? Yes. Sensible? Yes. It's a calculated move that simply ensures I don't have spoilers or questions sprung on me about a show I don't entirely know.

With films on Facebook, I simply can't be asked. I use the website Trakt to keep track of all my television and film watching, which is enough for me. If people really care about what I watch, they can check on there. Adding the, at the time of writing this, 555 films that I have seen in my lifetime to Facebook would take an inordinately long time.

The amount of 'fun' pages I like on Facebook amounts to two - "Hey, batter batter batter, swing batter!" (a phrase used in Ferris Bueller's Day Off), and "Things Bishops Boys Don't Say" (a page that posts inside jokes about a school I attended). I don't like pages with jokes, or expensive car wrecks, or ones that post things completely unrelated to the title of the page, because I like to keep my online presence in the eyes of both onlookers and myself as clear and representative as possible.

Filtering ourselves

Unless you don't use social media at all, I don't think it's possible to avoid filtering the way you present yourself online. I don't post on Facebook much, nor tweet particularly often. When I do, it's mediocre in quality, but better than what I withhold. Even something as rudimentary as liking something on Facebook often presents me with an internal discourse because of how it may show up on the feeds of Facebook friends that I've liked a certain thing. When adding actual topics/subjects to my list of likes, I tend to do it at a late hour and in bulk, for example, 3AM, when most people will be asleep so if the "Piers likes [certain Facebook pages]' were to appear on other people's sidebars, I can remove it from public view. To be honest, it's quite a pathetic level of consideration.

The topic of my considerations when liking a Page is for another post though. Returning to the subject of filtering, photos are a key area affected by this. I went to Berlin over the holiday and took five hundred and sixty six photos. Only twenty one of which I uploaded to Facebook. On the Systems & Users field trips, I took four hundred and thirty two photos, but only uploaded fifty four. That's only 3.7% and 12.5% of photos that made the cut respectively.

View fullsize

This photo was dumped

View fullsize

This one was chosen

If I tweet something and then notice I made a typo, I will delete the tweet and post it again, but corrected. In a way, this is cheating, but it maintains an impression. After all, I doubt anybody reads my tweets, but I'd still rather the spelling was correct than not. With more publicly known people though, there's a difficulty. Whenever certain people tweet, within thirty seconds it could have been retweeted a hundred times (there are fans that are that concerningly attached). Even if they aren't that level of famous, it's still an awkward thing to do. For example:

In the first tweet, there's a typo, which he followed up with the second tweet a minute later. Interestingly, the first tweet had no replies and eighteen favorites. The second tweet, with less substance, got six replies and thirty favorites. Make of that what you will.

"Dance like nobody's watching" (attribution varies) is an interesting thought. Personally, I can't dance or sing in public because I think I'll come off as looking stupid. In private, I'm still incapable of singing, but I do dance. Exploring this quote further, I'd like to apply it to the masks we wear. Here's a spoiler alert for The Truman Show, so if you haven't yet seen it, skip the next paragraph.

In The Truman Show, the main character, Truman Burbank (played by Jim Carrey) thinks he is living an ordinary life, when in fact his life has been constructed around him since shortly after his birth for a reality show. In the end, he manages to escape into the real world.

This is slightly similar to Dark City and The Matrix in the realm of the 'world' being formed and controlled by others, always with a hero trying to escape. As far as we know, this world we live in is genuine. However, the internet is another world (but still a real world), where it is a lot easier to consistently create a different persona by. Online, it is a lot easier to be a gatekeeper than in the physical world, as you are mostly in control of what information about yourself you release. In the physical world, you let out all sorts of information from body language to mannerisms to spontaneous reactions.

Thinking about online perception, from 1996 to 2003 JenniCam existed where Jennifer Ringley broadcast her room online. Keeping up an act for seven straight years would be exhausting, so one can assume that although she knew she was on camera for the world to see because she set it up, she was her normal self. In Simpsons Comics #42, a Truman-esque scenario is portrayed, where Homer's life is broadcast without his knowledge, gaining a large audience that enjoy his stupidity and mistakes. Eventually he finds out, but instead of breaking free, he continues, and tries to be funny. In the way that you can't force humor, Homer's attempts to be funny were a disaster compared to the previous inadvertent entertainment value. While just a comic, it did explore how the behaviour of people can change when they know that they're being watched.

Icons, symbols, and indexes

Skipping a few steps in the world of semiotics, Peirce's three types of signs are reached. An icon visually represents what it stands for. For example, the famous Ceci n'est pas une pipe picture is, as the title suggests, not a pipe. It is, however, an image of a pipe, therefore an icon.

Symbols are signs that are not directly related to what they represent, but are agreed on by societies to have a specific meaning. Ranging from symbols such as on eject buttons to all words (e.g. the word "dog" is not a real dog, nor a photo of a dog, but to an english speaker it conjures a mental image of a dog), symbols are a broad topic.

Indexes are perhaps the most complex of the concepts to grasp, despite indexes surrounding us. Sitting here, I can see a scuff on the wall - an index that someone has dragged a chair leg across it. If I see a door down a hallway closing, that is an index that somebody has very recently gone through it.

Peirce's classifications of signs can be difficult to get to grips with to begin with, but with examples it further aids understanding. Now all I need to do is relate them to my image and subjectivity in the realm of media...

For reference, the mediums I am working in are text based and photographic (as that's what I work best in), in a complementary manner. Also, I write in American English, due to a combination of aspirations for the future and the oversaturation of American media I've subjected myself to over the years, but that's another story for another day. I've written over 2,500 words for this digital sketchbook in a rambling look through my thoughts on the representation of the self, which I hope you enjoy and/or find interesting.