Book Review: Hanging Out, Messing Around, and Geeking Out
Bit of a change in blog direction here... the topic is still the internet but it will be less about silly stuff I found and more about internet research.
Soooo, in that spirit I recently finished reading Hanging Out, Messing Around, and Geeking Out by Mizuko Ito and about a hundred other people (I exaggerate, but a lot of people were involved in the writing and research that went into it).
The book is about the various ways that children use the internet and related technologies, and is based on over twenty field studies on topics from Neopets and MySpace to Pro-anorexia groups and Harry Potter fans. It's a scholarly tome, particularly the introduction, but the bulk of the book uses plenty of enlightening examples and quotations from the source studies to illustrate the academic points being made, so it's not too hard going. I found the three concepts introduced in the title quite useful for understanding kids' relationships with technology, and the labels chosen seemed to be quite an intuitive and apt fit (unlike other attempts I have seen to introduce new concepts, such as Christopher Kelty's tortured labouring of "recursive publics" in Two Bits, but more on that another time).
I think it's useful here to briefly explain those concepts, as they structure the entire book:
Hanging Out
This is the state of just being present and available through technology. So it includes Facebook updates and text messages like "doing maths homework 
" that aren't particularly illuminating or likely to start a conversation, through to more interactive online chatter and game-play. It's a very social activity, as the name suggests: an online equivalent to loitering with friends on street corners or in the park, but they don't have to be there in person or even at the same time. In fact, as children are increasingly restricted from being with friends in public places, hanging out online may be one of few places left for them to socialise. This begs the question, if children are unable to take part in this kind of online activity (or prohibited by parents who see it as unworthwhile) will they become excluded, or even ostracised, from their normal social world?
Messing Around
This could be seen as a step-up from hanging out in terms of the engagement with technology. The kind of examples given in the book include customising a MySpace page, sharing music with friends, and fixing computer problems. It doesn't have to be a particularly intense or directed activity (although it can lead into that) but rather just playing with technology to meet a vague goal.
Geeking Out
This may develop from messing around, and covers more concerted, technical or enthusiast activity. Basically I think it means a hobby carried out wholly or partly online. Some activities, such as fan-created anime subtitles, are made feasible through the internet while others, like participating in Final Fantasy XI player guilds, can only exist online. Geeking-out activities that are a little more grounded in the offline world include learning music production and computer repair.
* * * * *
I think it's possible that these ways of using the internet are not necessarily unique to children, but they may reflect what naturally happens in a population with lots of spare time in which to tinker with computers... the findings are directly applicable to university students, for example, and the book does look at such older students in historical or follow-up studies. But it would be interesting to see if the same concepts apply, for example, to patterns of usage in computer-savvy retired people — are they hanging out, messing around, and geeking out too?
All in all, a very interesting read, but not a light one. It stirs the imagination and hints at many further questions, rather than trying to serve up answers on a platter.
|
|
Embarrassing Facebook Updates Website More Addictive Than Facebook Itself
- Embarrassment like this on tap with Openbook
Photo by arthurohm
I'm not the first person to notice that Facebook is addictive. But it's not addictive in a bog-standard nicotine-to-gambling way — it's frustratingly mind-numbingly soul-destroyingly addictive, on a par with daytime TV and 24-hour news channels. But Facebook goes much further than TV's lean-back style of dependency: it nails the chair to your arse and staples your eyes to the screen, maintaining a state of helpless absorption that's neither completely passive nor truly interactive.
Why does Crackbook Facebook have this effect? Well, I believe it addresses a basic human need for gossip — who's doing what, when, where and to whom. It doesn't matter if you barely know the people involved, just the delicious knowledge that someone somewhere is doing something vaguely interesting, offensive or illegal is enough to tweak the pleasure-producing parts of your brain. But there's a problem: the juicy details we crave don't appear that often, so we keep browsing the site long after anything vaguely satisfying has been gained from the experience. Once in a blue moon you might stumble across an interesting photo or revealing status update, but on the whole it's very very dull.
But now there's a solution: a site that delivers the finest titillating chatter without any of the fishing around. It's called Openbook, and takes advantage of two things: Facebook's search interface for programmers, and people who make their status updates completely public. Not only do you get to see plenty of embarrassing status updates, you even get to choose what kind of cringe-inducing updates are shown. And if you can't be bothered with that, just pick from a list of terms other people have searched for. Unsurprisingly there's lots of filth on display, but some of the cleaner status updates contain phrases like these:
- Playing hooky (maybe not for long)
- I hate my... (job/life/body/poor awareness of online privacy)
- don't tell anyone (oh, the irony)
So there's all the spicy stuff, little risk of awkward encounters with people you actually know, and all the stalking gossiping goodness.
Facebook Social Advice: Stop Neglectling Dead Friends
So what if I'm dead? We can still be friends! (photo by M.V. Jantzen)
Facebook has an new feature called "Reconnect" which, in keeping with the site's social cosiness, encourages active users to get in touch with those who are less active. "Write on their wall! Suggest new friends!" it bleats, coaxing like a parent who says "What happened to that nice so-and-so? You should send them a Christmas card."
What Facebook hasn't taken into account is that, sometimes, sadly, it's best not to get back in touch. For example, you might have fallen out. Or been jilted by them. Maybe they were jilted by you. As a general rule, if either party have jilted, are jilting, or will in the future jilt, don't contact them. The biggest social faux pas, however, is getting in touch with friends who have passed away. On Ouija Book, maybe. Facebook, no.
But that hasn't stopped Facebook suggesting that users reconnect with friends who died months or years ago. And when this was pointed out to Facebook management, what did they say? Did they go red and mumble something about the programmers not realising? Nope, they blamed the bereaved for not contacting Facebook to have the deceased's profile "memorialised". Nice.
So when you are busy doing unimportant stuff like organising a funeral and dealing with solicitors, and maybe - heaven forfend - are a bit unhappy, what you should really be doing is contacting Facebook to memorialise their ****ing profile.
Yeah, while you are at it, login to their Twitter account and in the big box at the top labelled What are you doing? write "Being dead. Forever. Don't bother replying, because I'm not really into this social networking thing any more. LOL!"
You Say Tomato, I Say “Oppose The Gay Agenda”
A tomato yesterday (photo by Damon Green)
In February this year the president of conservative think-tank The Sutherland Institute met with the organisation's largest donor. The donor had a number of ideas on how to advance the institute's goals, and one was to improve the website. He had visited the site recently, and was concerned that their message wasn't being communicated properly.
You see, one of The Sutherland Insitute's governing principles is "Limited Government", but the website said they believed in "Limited Government Except When We Don't Get Our Way". Maybe so, but isn't that a little too direct? The Institute also believes in "Personal Responsibility" but the site had it as "Personal Responsibility & Taking Away Others Choice". You can applaud the honesty, but the statement does lack polish.
In fact, all of the "governing principles" seemed to have got a little mangled:
| Governing Principle | Website Version |
| Limited Government | Limited Government Except When We Don't Get Our Way |
| Family | Our Bigoted Definition of Family |
| Private Property | Oppose The Gay Agenda |
| Religion | The One True Religion |
| Personal Responsibility | Personal Responsibility & Taking Away Others Choice |
| Charity | Anti Same Sex Marriage Legislation |
| Free Markets | Free Markets, Exclude Homosexuals from Places of Employment |
Now the president was awfully confused because they had recently updated the website, and he was pretty sure it was all in order. Upon further investigation, he discovered that the donor had been looking not at the official Sutherland Institute website at sutherlandinstitute.org, but a parody website at sutherlandinstitute.com.
You might think the extreme governing principles would give the game away. Or maybe the forthcoming event which features a discussion called "Hiding Your Fear of Homosexuals". And if all that fails, then at least there's the text "This website is not affiliated with, endorsed or sponsored by the Sutherland Institute. It is a parody site, an opposing political platform." But nah, clearly it's the right site — there's the logo at the top!
See the difference? (Photo by Hysterical Bertha)
Anyway, the president had to explain several times to the donor that the website had nothing to do with them, because he didn't understand that there was a difference between dot-com and dot-org. You can only imagine the confusion if someone told him about the 278 other top-level domains. Actually the president himself had to spend "several minutes" studying the parody site (which consists of a single page) to realise it wasn't their own. Yes, despite the words "it is a parody site".
The President, all upset, went straight to the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO) to get the offending site handed over, presumably so other gullible and illiterate visitors wouldn't get confused. The parody site owner didn't dignify proceedings by putting his side of the story across, but that didn't matter because the WIPO panel ruled in his favour anyway.
The moral of this story is, um, well... it depends what you believe. Maybe it's to always be tolerant of others' views. Or that freedom of speech is an absolute right. But I think it's this: always register the dot-com.
Real site: www.sutherlandinstitute.org
Parody site: www.sutherlandinstitute.com
Thanks to Domain Name Wire
Modern Internet Predicted in 1969
On 29 October 1969, the first two nodes of ARPANET — the network which was to become the internet — were connected.
That same year a TV program was eerily accurate in predicting the modern internet. Here it is:
So Mum gets a big monitor for shopping, and seems unimpressed to the point of despair by the wares on offer, but decides to buy something anyway. She also gets two little monitors for snooping on the kids, and any unwitting guests in the swimming pool.
It's a sign of the times then that Dad has three big screens to play with. On the first he gets to see the damage inflicted on his credit card earlier in the day by Mum, and his decision to beat her senseless for it is written all over his face. (That was fine in 1969.)
But what did "Father" use the other two monitors for? The program was so clairvoyant predicting internet shopping, banking, webcams and email (aka "home post office") that there can only be one answer: the middle screen was for porn and the third screen was for... more porn. That's why Dad needed three screens, and Mum's best hope for dodging a beating.
In 1969 they thought it was better to talk about replacing cables than go into that.
The Sound of Found, My Arse
If you are like 99% of the population you will neither know nor care about Bing, Microsoft's month-old search engine. I'm going to tell you why you should know (and care) about the biggest shake-up of the industry since, well, the last time Microsoft launched a new search engine.
Only kidding. Give yourself a big pat on the back for paying no attention. Bing is never going to get anywhere, because it has a bloody silly name.
Why is it called Bing anyway? Well, according to Microsoft, "bing!" is the winning noise evoked by a successful search. They optimistically call this "The Sound of Found". That's bollocks. Bing, dear reader, is the sound of:
Do you feel comfortable using one of these? BING!
Arrogance and Desperation
You arrive late at a hotel, tired and irritable, only to find the reception unmanned. You spy a domed brass reception bell. Unfortunately, these bells are loaded with images of lordship and servitude. What's more, you're not sure if anyone ever uses them or if they're just for show. Minutes pass while you stare at the bell, before you finally overcome the mental anguish and give it a good slap. BING! It's much louder than you expected. Also, the receptionist appears at exactly the same time and is now looking at you like you are a complete tosser.
Loneliness and Poverty
There's nothing worse than buying a stack of easy-cook meals-for-one. If you were buying only one you could add a four-pack of beer and joke with the checkout chick: "The missus is out tonight and I don't know how to work the cooker! What am I like, eh?" Laughs all round. But that doesn't get you the three-for-a-fiver special offer.
The fact is you have no-one waiting for you at home, not tonight. Not ever. When you buy your week's supply of ready meals, on the verge of tears, there's no witty banter. Just despair and pity. At home you use your twenty-year-old microwave to heat up the first plastic carton of slop. After four minutes, BING! It's done. Now you can cry into your volcanic spag bol and watch repeats of Friends.
Homo-erotic Confusion
Friends. If only.
Now, what was the name of the funny sarcastic one? Oh yes, Chandler. Chandler Bing. Prone to long man-hugs with room-mate Joey. Shy with the ladies. Not keen on sports. Loves musicals. Father's a drag queen. Yet, oddly, he married Monica Geller. You know, the bossy competitive one. Deep voice. Has a bit of a man-face. Argh! Chandler was clearly gay. But Chandler who? BING!
* * * * *
Thanks to all these great connotations, we will soon give up Googling and start Binging. Or Bunging. Maybe Bonging? No-one knows. If they've got any sense, no-one cares either.
Parking, Tasting and Squatting
What’s the link between these words? No, it’s not a creepy combination of dogging and wine appreciation, followed by a nice long sit down in a cubicle. In fact, these words are all related to the domain name business, specifically earning big bucks passively – from little more than just owning a bunch of names.
A domain name is a simple thing: a memorable combination of letters, numbers, and dashes that translates to a numerical address so a computer can be located on the Internet. For example: google.com, en.wikipedia.org, www.number10.gov.uk. Domain names can be up to 255 characters in length, but each “label” – the bits separated by the dots – has to be less than 63 characters long.
Domain names are cheap to register (around £10 per year for a dot-com) and can be renewed by the owner indefinitely. There are lots of ways to combine 60+ letters and numbers, but each one is unique, and once it’s been taken the only way to get that same name is to buy it from it’s owner. This is where the money can get a little crazy, because a second-hand domain name is worth whatever someone is willing to pay for it. The current record holder is fund.com, which sold in 2008 for $10 million, with $50 change. porn.com comes just behind, presumably with its trousers around its ankles, with a sale of $9.5 million in 2007.
This is where the squatting comes in. Cybersquatters register domains with names identical (or very similar) to existing companies, brand names or famous people, with the intention of extracting money from the affronted party or diverting their visitors. It doesn’t generally work, because if the squatter registered the domain name in bad faith, the courts will order that it is handed over. It gets more complicated when two genuine companies have identical names, which happened in the case of the British Broadcasting Corporation and Boston Business Computing; in 1999 Auntie Beeb bought bbc.com from the Bostonians for $375,000.
Parked Domain Girl
Despite the lack of wheels, engine, gearbox and fluffy dice, domain names can be parked*. Actually, domain parking means that instead of setting up a proper website, the owner signs up with a company that fills the site with automatically generated ads. The advertisers pay for each ad click, and the owner receives a percentage of the revenue. The real losers here are the people who visit parked domains; they arrive at these advertising sewers because they type an URL directly into their browser address bar, and either make a typo or simply enter a common word, hoping that a useful site would be on the end of it.
You have probably visited lots of parked domains, but might not have noticed because, like a teenage boy’s poor excuse for a moustache, they barely impinge on the conscious mind. But if you have ever seen the most famous lady on the Internet – Parked Domain Girl – you must have visited a parked site.
We’ve parked and squatted, so now let’s taste. Under the rules of the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers (ICANN) registrars must refund the price of registration if a domain name is cancelled within five days. Domain tasters abuse this by registering hundreds of thousands of names, parking them, and cancelling the ones that don’t look set to make a profit over the course of the year – which is the vast majority. In February 2007 nearly 95% of all domains registered were being tasted, and were cancelled within five days. ICANN introduced a limit on cancellations in June 2008, and the practice has largely vanished. And Parked Domain Girl became a little less famous.
Parked Domain Girl in Happier Times
* To pass advanced domain name investment exams you also need to reverse a domain around a corner, and turn a domain through 180 degrees without hitting the kerb.
We’re All Abandoners Now
I’ve just been shopping. Well, sort of. I visited a well-known retailer and had a casual browse around, chucking a few vaguely interesting items into my trolley. After about thirty seconds I got bored and headed over to the checkout. The total wasn’t to my liking so I booted the trolley onto its side and bowled out of there. No-one batted an eyelid.
OK, so I’ve omitted one key fact. I wasn’t in a real shop made of solid stuff like bricks, just an online store. And I hadn’t risked an ASBO by throwing a tantrum in public; I just wanted to see how much their delivery charges were. No big deal. Well, not to consumers like you and me, but to retailers it’s a huge problem and they call it shopping cart abandonment.
Yes, abandonment: a word normally reserved for walking out on children or losing all self control (if it’s in a good way then it’s normally preceded by ‘gay’). Not so long ago shopping cart abandonment could only mean dumping a trolley in a canal or by lock-up garages. But in the virtual world it means not bothering to type your credit card number into a web page, or neglecting to click ‘Submit’ – in fact, it’s any time you add something to your basket but don’t follow through and pay. (Incidentally, I once used a real abandoned shopping trolley to move to a new flat only a hundred yards from my old one; arduous and humiliating but I couldn’t give in once I’d committed to the idea.)
Photo by Mike Warren
Should we feel bad about abandoning our shopping carts? Of course not you cry, why the hell should we? Well, here’s a reason: every half-decent online retailer has an ecommerce manager responsible for the store’s performance. The main measure of their worth as a human being is the shop’s conversion rate – the percentage of visitors who actually buy stuff – so every time a visitor dumps their trolley in a virtual canal, another little bit of them dies inside.
And don’t think they’re not watching you. Modern traffic analysis software can show visitor behaviour in real-time, and send alerts when carts are ditched. In their annual Performance Index report, software company MarketLive estimates typical abandonment rates at over 60 percent, so ecommerce managers spend a lot of time watching shoppers load up their baskets then stroll right out the door, blissfully unaware that their actions are of interest to either man or machine. The virtual shopkeepers must claw at their screens in despair, tears of frustration rolling down their cheeks, as they plead for the return of customers who don’t even know they exist.
So next time you’re nonchalantly lobbing stuff in an online cart, with little intention of making a purchase, spare a thought for the backroom geeks hanging on your every click. If you decide to buy, you might just make their day. But don’t get too carried away. After all, in some dark corner of the ‘net there’s a huge canal, deeper than the abysses of hell, that’s full to overflowing with virtual abandoned shopping trolleys. Throwing yours on top won’t make that much difference.
Categories
Archives
Subscribe
