thank you, and goodnight

Every student will tell you that the worst part of university is the group work. But, in my time as a communications and media student, I have found that I dislike reflective tasks in near equal measure. They have always seemed so empty and pointless. A checkbox item, tacked onto the end of an assignment, existing purely for lecturers to tick off and say “yes, I’ve critically engaged the student” or “yes, I’ve made sure the student is accountable for their work.”

Studying BCM313 has enlightened me as to more productive and interesting ways to use personal reflection. Instead of merely learning about the future of work, this subject has taught me how to probe deep within myself—my memories, my values, and my hopes. It has encouraged me to take interest in the stories and experiences of others, so that I may draw out lessons that are applicable to my own life.

These reflective practices, facilitated by narrative work, are no shallow feat.

From this subject I have learnt how to take ownership of my career identity. To understand what I want to do with my professional life and how to actively pursue it in a way that fosters my values and considers my preferences.

The most memorable part of a narrative interview I conducted with social media specialist Jasmyn Connell, was a lesson she uncovered through the progression of her own career. Since then, I have reminded myself a number of times that I am not my work. My value isn’t derived from the quality of my work. And, I am not a lesser person in that face of my professional shortfalls.

I was also surprised to discover that the future of work is not as bleak as I had first thought. I often find it challenging to avoid getting caught up in the doom and gloom of the political, social and environmental failings of the Australian government. I have always thought that these shortcomings would spell disaster for my future-self. But, an examination of Industry 4.0 has shown me that the possibility for a good, prosperous future does exist.

Finally, I have learnt that nobody has a perfect career story. I’ve always been afraid of failure, which has often held me back. After hearing so many different career stories from individuals of all walks of life, I feel renewed with the confidence to put myself “out there” more. A lesson from my first year classes that I am reminded of in this moment is that learning requires one to be bold enough to “fail early and fail often.”

I’d like to conclude by thanking my tutor, Giverny Witheridge, for always engaging my peers and I with thought-provoking and often challenging questions. It was a pleasure to be a part of Giverny’s class as she created a positive, welcoming and encouraging environment.

I’d also like to extend my thanks to the effervescent and ever-understanding Kate Bowles, subject coordinator and lecturer for BCM313. It was truly a joy to participate in this subject.

With only two classes remaining in my degree, here’s to what I expect will be my final blog post.

how I learnt about myself from someone else

Some of the names have been redacted for privacy reasons at the discretion of the interviewee. Please do not mark this version of the video. You can find the video transcript on the next page.

As a third-year student, I am plagued by anxieties about internships, entry-level jobs and post-graduate study. As a result, I am constantly dogged by intrusive thoughts. They tumble through my head, muttering questions I fear, yet have no answers to… Do I have enough experience? Do I have what it takes to survive in the corporate world? Will I hate my job for the rest of my life?

These doubts ate away at me as I prepared to conduct a narrative interview with Jasmyn Connell.

For this narrative interview, I was to be an outsider witness, as defined by Carey and Russell (2003), to Jasmyn’s career story. An outsider witness is an additional party who listens for and gives agency to the preferred values and identity claims of an individual (Carey & Russell 2003). These value and identity claims frequently reside in the subjugated meanings or, as Michael White (2006) terms it, the absent, but implicit messages in the problem stories of an individual.

I knew that to simply hear Jasmyn speak would be too passive and too inadequate to fulfil the demands of a narrative interview. Instead, I readied myself to engage with the visible and invisible layers of her story, and adapt the conversation around the subjugated meanings we surfaced together. 

However, what eventuated was something that ran much deeper for me. I did not expect her narrative to resonate so powerfully with my concerns.

The interview

Jasmyn Connell is the president of the UOW Digital Media Society. She juggles this role with a massive lineup of responsibilities: a part-time social media management job, running her own graphic design business, and study at university.

As expected, through the interview we explored her tumultuous career journey. She showed me along the twisting path that she travelled to get to her current point, signposting each challenge of skill and personal mettle. 

I found the most memorable stories of work Jasmyn shared, to be the ones where she demonstrated vulnerability and perseverance in the same stride. I was taken aback when she told me that, upon receiving harsh feedback on an impossible task, she burst into tears in the middle of the office. I was surprised because this was something that I too would have done, and hearing this helped me to feel seen.

As someone who often finds shame in my sensitivity, I was pleasantly shocked by how this moment in Jasmyn’s story ended. One of the editors who made the comments came to her and helped her understand what she describes to me as “one of the most important lessons” that she learnt on the job…

“You are not your work.”

Until this point in Jasmyn’s career, she had been hinging her value as a person on the quality of her work. She thought of criticism on her work as comments on her self-worth. Upon hearing this realisation, I recognised that I think of my work and personal value as intrinsically linked in the same way that Jasmyn once did. 

With one small story, my eyes were suddenly wide open to one of the driving forces behind my anxieties.

In the remainder of the interview, we delved deeply into the values that underpinned various events in Jasmyn’s career. She showed me how she learnt that having the confidence to sometimes say no is more important than saying yes to everything. She revealed to me the times when she threw her caution and perfectionism to the wind and just worked unapologetically with what she had.

‘As an outsider witness to Jasmyn’s story, I noted how she developed this quiet assertion and advocacy for herself in challenging and unfamiliar situations. I also noticed how, over time, she began to develop her tenacity by having trust in herself and by pushing through the obstacles she faced. When I asked her about a value that might underlie this truth she identified the idea of “resilience.”’

— an excerpt from my presentation

I wish I had her resilience

As I reflect on Jasmyn’s interview, I realise that she transformed from someone very similar to myself to someone whom I have always wished I could be, but thought was impossible to achieve. That someone is confident enough to back themselves and isn’t weighed down by criticism.

By exploring the nuances of Jasmyn’s career story as an outsider witness, I have become equipped with the reflective tools to re-author my own narrative. No longer will I validate the thoughts of inadequacy and panic that cling to me. I will try to meet challenges with courage, and embrace each low moment as an exciting opportunity to learn.


Carey, M and Russell, S 2003 ‘Outsider-witness practices: some answers to commonly asked questions’, The International Journal of Narrative Therapy and Community Work, no. 1, <https://narrativepractices.com.au/attach/pdf/Outsider_Witness_Common_Questions.pdf>

Workshop notes, 2006, Small group intensive with Michael White, Adelaide, viewed 31 August, <https://dulwichcentre.com.au/michael-white-archive/writings-by-michael-white/>

All images are sourced from the Canva library. The license does not require credit.

Credit: Ava Gomez and Janika Gaona, January 2020

my experience interning in Spain… (minus the ‘S’)

The problem story

Last January, I transitioned from retail assistant in Wollongong to intern at a digital media start up in Spain, in the space of a few weeks. In this new role, I undertook digital marketing activities for the growing brand, We Love Martha. Conditions were not ideal; I was forced to work in what barely qualified as a co-working space, in the dead of winter. This “co-working space” was a half-converted factory with no windows, no heating, and no joy. Worse yet, my “mentor” knew nothing about the area in which I was supposed to be gaining experience. 

Needless to say, after weeks of the blind (mostly just myself) leading the blind (also myself) through research and analysis projects, a rewrite of the website’s copy, and the creation of a rusty social media plan, I was frustrated and annoyed. It didn’t help that my roommate snored all night, which meant I fell asleep at about 4-5am every day (lucky me!), but thats another story.

I had wanted to write about this aspect of my time abroad for months, but was always halted by my bitterness toward it. More than that, I felt so lost that I simply did not know where to start. However, when I came upon late Australian social worker, Michael White, and his work on what he terms ‘narrative therapy’, my internalised story began to unfurl.

You see, in White’s practice of narrative therapy an individual is encouraged to ‘seperate themselves from their problems’ (Walter 2018; Edwards & Walker 2019); and oh boy I had a problem—it clung to me like a parasite. My time in Spain was supposed to be a life-altering, self-reinventing experience that I would look fondly upon as the start of a successful career. Instead, it morphed into a memory of festering resentment that made my stomach churn.

White’s ideas are built upon by his contemporaries and successors who will also be referenced in this abridged version of a narrative reflection. The work of Carey, Walther and Russell (2008) is drawn upon frequently; two of whom were faculty at Narrative Practices Adelaide, the offspring of the Adelaide Narrative Therapy Centre opened by White in 2008 (Carey, Russell & Hall n.d.).

Narrative development

‘Every expression of life is in relation to something else.’

(White 2006)

The concept of the ‘absent, but implicit’ pervades White’s method of narrative therapy. It encapsulates the thinking that it ‘is not possible to talk about anything without drawing out what it is not’ (White 2006). For example, my problem experience interning in Spain was not one that catered to my preferences for structured, relevant skills learning in a positive and supportive environment. This hidden story of preferences and values is what Carey, Walther and Russell (2008) term ‘subjugated meanings’. 

To identify these subjugated meanings, a process called ‘double-listening’ must be employed (Carey, Walther and Russell 2008). This listening process gives attention to both the visible and invisible layers of the problem story, probing at the veiled ideas implicit in an individual’s self-expression (Freedman 2012).

According to Fleming (2003), by examining subjugated meanings an individual can ‘broaden their frame of reference, develop new meanings about their life, and become aware of new possibilities.’ Freedman (2012) expands on Fleming by describing this aspect of narrative reflection as a ‘gateway into that realm of experience where people’s most cherished hopes, aspirations, and commitments live and breathe.’

Thus, in surfacing the subjugated meanings which underlaid my problem story, I created fertile ground to re-author my experience for my future self (Courtois n.d.). I have revealed not only my preferences and values, but also possibilities as to where I can take my next steps forward (Walter 2018).

Upon further reflection, I had already been unconsciously attempting to re-author my professional identity since my problem experience occurred. This is evident as I relentlessly vied for another internship for months after my return, and I recently volunteered as the Vice President of the Digital Media Society. All of these experiences are ones that unconciously embody my values of positivity and creativity, and my preference for a comfortable working environment.

However, since I have now consciously deconstructed my problem story, I am better equipped with the awareness to answer a question that started rattling around my head when I left Spain in January…

“Where to next?”

Carey, Walther & Russell (2009) identify this moment as the final step in scaffolding narrative development because it connects a ‘person’s actions and experiences across the dimension of time.’ This step allows an individual to craft forward momentum in their life, and gives rise to an ‘experience of personal agency’ (Carey, Walther & Russell 2009).


Header image credit: photo of myself shared with permission from Ava Gomez and Janika Gaona, January 2020

Please find references on page two.

an examination of redundancy in the student experience

The world has descended into crisis; pandemic has a choke-hold on the lives of billions. Leaders must decide the fate of nations—how to save a dying economy, a dying population, and a dying way of life.

As Australia shuts down, a generation of university students must begin to tread unknown waters. The shift to online classes is a minor inconvenience compared to the imminence of unemployment. Whilst rent and other bills remain the same, income for young people is stifled.

As a university student, one of my biggest worries is money. How much money will I earn this week? How much money will I spend this week? Where can I save? And why did I just blow my whole pay cheque on a shopping-spree?

Now, with no income, job prospects or eligibility for welfare payments in the face of this crisis, my worries have trebled; and I don’t have to look far to see these concerns echoed by my peers.

I see my reality reflected in the work of Williams and Oumlil (2015). They note that vulnerable groups such as students are more likely to be financially excluded from mainstream financial service provision. This lack of resource access is compounded by irregular income; consequently increasing a university student’s vulnerability to external financial shocks and uncertainty, such as the COVID-19 pandemic.

I am interested in learning about other university student’s spending practices and how they have changed since the switch to remote learning and social isolation. Do these students have redundancy plans in place? What happens to those who do not?

The question I propose is twofold: how do university students spend and save? Are these habits adequate to survive a global crisis, such as the COVID19 pandemic?

An informal, exploratory poll I designed for Twitter yielded the following results:


Though not conclusive, the results of the poll demonstrate that students may be very concerned about their money amidst the current crisis. Yes, a large 38% of respondents are ‘somewhat confident’ about staying afloat financially over the coming months, but a majority 56% lack that confidence to variable degrees.

That only 5.6% of respondents are confident about their money? It does not bode well; hence the need for deeper research to understand why this may be and how this vital aspect of the student experience can be enhanced.

Further Research

A review of existing literature regarding the finances of young people highlights that most studies are older and likely obsolete. Given the dynamic nature of the economy, one could assume that modern student finances have evolved since the early 2000s when research on this topic boomed.

Roberts and Jones (2001) early work suggests that consumer culture and consumption are an epidemic to young people; they link our depression, anxiety and low self esteem with compulsive buying. This source may be out-of-date, but it does start us out on an interesting path to uncovering more about student finances.

A more recent 2017 study by Sundarasen and Rahman concurs with the idea that young adults are drowned by the temptations of a consumer culture induced lifestyle. They identify students as being saddled with debts and unsettled credit cards. This study goes further to suggest that for students, money management/literacy can bring about financial freedom. This study inspires my inquiry into how students save and invest their money, as opposed to only how students spend their money.

Bramforth and Guersen (2017) look into the notion of student savings in their small Melbourne study of university students. They identify three distinct approaches to student money management: conservative, creative and entrepreneurial. An examination of what these money management strategies look like in the UOW cohort may be an interesting pathway in understanding how student finances will be impacted under the pandemic crisis.

Continually, the economic, social and psychological factors affecting undergraduates’ money management behaviours, as identified by Bamforth, Jebarajakirthy and Geursen (2017), will provide greater depth to understandings about student money management both in normal times and during the pandemic crisis; particularly compared to the traditional and two-dimensional focus on undergraduate financial literacy commonly seen in academic works in this field.

In my own research, I will tie these insights together in a comparison of university student money management and redundancy planning duringa crisis. I hope to highlight the very real struggles faced by students in their university experience, and the consequences of this on our lives and livelihoods.

(edited 25/04/20)


References

Bamforth, J & Geursen, G 2017, “Categorising the money management behaviour of young consumers”, Young Consumers, Vol. 18 No. 3, pp. 205-222.

Bamforth, J, Jebarajakirthy, C & Geursen, G 2017, “Undergraduates’ responses to factors affecting their money management behaviour: some new insights from a qualitative study”, Young Consumers, Vol. 18 No. 3, pp. 290-311.

Roberts, J & Jones, E 2001, “Money Attitudes, Credit Card Use, and Compulsive Buying Among American College Students”, Journal of Consumer Affairs, Vol. 35, pp. 213 – 240.

Sundarasen, SD & Rahman MS 2017, “Attitude Towards Money: Mediation to Money Management”, Academy of Accounting and Financial Studies Journal, Vol. 21 No. 1, pp. 1-13.

Williams, A & Oumlil, A 2015, “College student financial capability”, International Journal of Bank Marketing, Vol. 33, pp. 637-653.

the second pitch

I have previously established that I am to conduct an ethnographic case study of the Sydney restaurant, the Grounds of Alexandria.

I will be looking at the symbiotic relationship between tangible, constructed spaces and the intangible mediascapes which they shape.

The ethnography

I am to be a participant-observer and experiencer both in the physical restaurant and in the online spaces where this phenomenon has etched its culture. These online spaces include but are not limited to: the official Grounds of Alexandria social media pages and website; the Grounds of Alexandria Instagram hashtag; third party content such as articles on Timeout; and customer reviews on websites such as Trip Advisor.

This project will involve a high degree of collaboration from a number of different sources; my approach will align with Erik Lassiter’s (2005) ideas about collaboration that avoids ‘othering’. To effectively be a participant experiencer I will need to be accompanied by at least one friend or family member when I visit the restaurant. Whilst here we will need to engage with the space as other patrons are, this may include: ordering and photographing food and drink as well as photographing each other in various places around the restaurant.

I will also need to record my observations of the other restaurant patrons, effectively turning them into my collaborators as well. Additionally, I plan on conducting unstructured interviews of some of the employees present at the restaurant, such as my waiter. Their comparatively high level of contact with the space may provide other insights that can not be not gained from participants alone.

Regarding the study of the online mediascape, I will again need to be a participant experiencer by sharing my own content in the same way that others have when engaging with this phenomenon online. I also will need to observe the media I find online and plumb it for information regarding the influence of the physical restaurant and how they work together.

Key details

Stakeholders for the project include the Grounds of Alexandria themselves, but also other restaurants and marketers. These groups would be looking to leverage their brand’s physical spaces to create publicity in paid, earned, shared and owned media forms.

It is important that I conduct myself in accordance with the MEAA Journalist Code of Ethics. This highlights the importance of ‘honesty’, ‘fairness’, ‘independence’, and ‘respect for the rights of others’. I will commit myself to these values throughout my research to ensure I do not cause distress or harm to others. I will avoid naming specific participants, especially if they are employed by the restaurant; and I will ensure I have consent to take photographs and publish interviews.

I will communicate my final project on a dedicated website, likely produced through Wix. The primary inspiration for this comes from Sarah Pink’s study of Energy and Digital Living (2014) where her research was laid out in a digestible format across a single website. Additionally, I may take inspiration from Marsha Berry’s thick description conveyed through her use of vignettes. These were constructed based upon her participant’s interview responses and observations about their media use. 

From preliminary research, it is my understanding that the online mediascape surrounding the Grounds of Alexandria phenomenon is highly visual. I will therefore also need to include pictorial elements across the presentation of my findings.

Dear readers,

If you have not been to the Grounds of Alexandria, what have you heard about it? What have you seen about it online?

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References

Lassiter, E 2005, ‘Defining a Collaborative Ethnography’, in Lassiter, E (eds.), The Chicago Guide to Collaborative Ethnography, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, pp. 15-24.

LEEDR 2014, Energy & Digital Living, viewed 27 September 2019, <http://energyanddigitalliving.com>.

Media Entertainment & Arts n.d., MEAA Journalist Code of Ethics, viewed 27 September 2019, <https://www.meaa.org/meaa-media/code-of-ethics/>.

the first pitch

The Grounds of Alexandria is popularly known for its design not as a restaurant, but as a social media backdrop. Word of mouth suggests that its atmosphere is abuzz with the chattering of lens shutters more so than the clanking of cutlery. 

As a food-lover, I find this situation to be highly intriguing.

My purpose

To perform an ethnographic case study on this phenomenon by examining the symbiotic relationship between the tangible, designed space and the intangible mediascape which has subsequently, and quite intentionally, arisen. 

Background research

A forerunner to my research is the work of Marsha Berry (2015). She explores Hjorth and Pink’s (2014) notion of the ‘digital wayfarer’ as an individual who engages with media perpetually as they move through their lives. This lifestyle gives rise to the entanglement of contemporary life with media production and digital spaces. As such, the conceptualisation of space is re-examined to encompass the notion of place and non-place in synonymous existence.

Ingold (2008) also provides valuable insight regarding emplaced visuality and sociality. He highlights that mobile technologies allow users to contribute to a ‘bigger picture’; that is, the user is pivotal in contributing to the foundations or sustention of a digital culture through their media production. Hjorth and Gu (2012) expand on the idea of emplaced visuality by noting the overlay between place, ambient images, and geographic locations.

The ideas explored in these texts provide an invaluable springboard from which I may begin to traverse my research. Berry’s (2015) study is particularly useful because it takes an ethnographic approach. 

Ethnography in action

Berry (2015) states that interviews were a significant part of her research process. She invited individuals who were heavily involved in her area of study, via social media, so that she could then probe them for their knowledge. She then went deeper by observing their public interactions with others on social media.

My personal experience as a researcher has not been so complete. I have been a participant observer and experiencer when inquiring into the cinema experience, media use on trains and the use of technology in a shoe store. I have also conducted a reflective form of auto-ethnography when looking at a critical TV memory from my life. However, I have not yet taken the opportunity to conduct collaborative ethnography through memory conversations and interviews.

I will conduct my case study on the Grounds of Alexandria by drawing on my own experiences whilst also considering Marsha Berry’s approaches to research. Participant observation and experience will be pivotal in learning about the tacit details of the relationship between the engineered place and non-place. Additionally, interviews will also enrich the findings by providing unstructured and spontaneous information that may be unattainable from overt and covert observation and participation.

Dear readers,

Have you been to the Grounds of Alexandria? If yes, what stood out to you most about media production whilst you were there?

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FIND THE SECOND PITCH HERE.

References

Berry, M 2015, ‘Out in the open: locating new vernacular practices with smartphone cameras’, Studies in Australasian Cinema, vol. 10, no. 1, pp. 53-64.

Hjorth, L & Gu, K 2012, ‘The place of emplaced visualities: A case study of smartphone visuality and location-based social media in Shanghai, China’, Journal of Media & Cultural Studies, vol. 26, no. 5, pp. 699-713.

Hjorth, L & Pink, S 2014, ‘New visualities and the digital wayfarer: Reconceptualizing camera phone photography and locative media’, Mobile Media & Communication, vol. 2, no. 1, pp. 40-57.

Ingold, T 2008, ‘Bindings against Boundaries: Entanglements of Life in an Open World’, Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space, vol. 40, no. 8, pp. 1796-1810.

immersed in understanding

BCM241 class of 2019, we are an odd bunch.

We all, it seems, are very particular about our cinema tastes. We have a favourite seat. A favourite snack. And a devotion to whatever it is we’re watching.

We hate talkers. We’re afraid to crunch on food out loud. And we have no qualms with getting up and leaving mid-movie should the situation call for it.

After a closer ethnographic examination of our cinema rituals through participant observation, we now also are more aware of how Torsten Hagerstrand’s (1969) constraints of coupling, capability, and authority unconsciously impact our cinematic experiences.

When Mikayla Stott of Generally Unimpressed tried to see ‘The Lion King’, her experience was ruined by unexpected capability problems, culminating in her taking early leave of the movie.

It took Taylah Ide-Miller of TayTay’s Blog three attempts to have an ideal experience when she tried to see the much-anticipated ‘Avengers Endgame’ movie. Mostly thanks to a series of authority and capability issues.

Such deep understandings would not be possible had these researchers not observed these experiences from the inside-out through participation. 

This immersive approach distinguishes itself from anthropology in accordance with Erik Lassiter’s reflections in his article ‘A Brief Guide to Collaborative Ethnography’ (2005).

He notes that ethnography avoids the harmful phenomenon of ‘othering’; of portraying the observed culture as separate, merely a shallow curiosity. When applied to the ethnography of the cinema, this form of research places ourselves in the context of viewer/experiencer-culture and our understandings are enriched.

I hope to use these insights about the power of participant observation in my capstone research project. 

One of my ideas revolves around the retail space; how different the discourse surrounding retail employment is between ‘real-life’ and online spheres, such as the subreddit titled ‘Retail Hell’.

Another concept I believe will be interesting is the interaction between the built environment and the digital world; how one prompts action in another and vice versa.

Whatever I choose to explore, I know that I must dive deep into the experience because adventure awaits.

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a friendship across the ages

I vividly remember my dance teacher, Miss T, telling our class not to worry about going to high school. Not because it would be okay, or anything that was actually comforting. But because we wouldn’t have to be concerned about staying in touch with our primary school friends. She told us that we would find better friends. That that the friendships we had in that moment were irrelevant.

She was not my favourite teacher.

When I first began high school, I lost touch with most people from primary—I didn’t much like them anyway. There were, however, a few select friends who I was sad to let go.

Opportunity came knocking with the launch of the social messaging app Kik. Introduced to me by the one primary school friend with whom I had maintained contact through dancing; I decided it was the perfect opportunity to re-establish contact with the few people I missed.

From there it became a regular after school activity to sit on the couch and message back and forth with this group of five (including that friend from dance). Our friendship was reaffirmed when a few of us started attending the same youth group for a couple years—all organised over Kik; a semi-long-distance friendship.

These girls became my closest friends.

We lost a few along the way. Falling outs, differing interests. Until there were just three of us left—Steph, Tara and myself.

Around year 10 we made the switch to Facebook and Facebook Messenger. We were able to share more of our lives and communicate more authentically. It was easier to organise ourselves and we were motivated to do more together.

It was great to have people who were always there to talk to—they wouldn’t get annoyed with the all-hours messaging. We stuck by each other and pushed each other to be better people as we dealt with the troubles of growing up.

They were my closest friends, even more so than the ones I had at school.

Year 12 was the most stressful time of our lives. We moved from messaging each other to Skyping each other so we could study ‘together’. It was far more motivating to sit down and do work if you were amongst friends, even if it was only digital.

We’re still friends now. It feels like all those years of partially separated friendship prepared us for the long-distance kind.

Our lives now are crazy and time-consuming. It’s impossible to maintain the high constancy of social media contact that we once did. Though there may now be gaps between when we talk, our bond is still just as strong.

Looking back it’s amazing to see how social media has been the glue that has held us together. How it has impacted everything from our nicknames—Stephy, Taz, Chrissy—to what we wore when we went out.

Take that, Miss T.

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alone, together

The term ‘networked home’ elicits two-dimensional images of an entranced someone, their face awash in cold light generated by 0s and 1s. We imagine a person whose first hello every morning is their lock-screen, and last goodnight is their social-media-night-cap of choice. This person ignores the “real world”, and is always grafted in some way to a digital device, no matter where in the home they are.

Such surface-level evocations may unwittingly lead us down a dystopic garden-path.

As someone who frequents the digital spaces of social media as much as I do my own bedroom, I find it difficult to reconcile this chilling image with the dynamic reality of the networked home.

Sherry Turkle argues that social media and the networked home makes us distant from people in the “real world”. It is her belief that we are prevented from developing the social skills necessary for navigating relationships. Thus, we miss out on the human connection we inherently crave.

I disagree.

Since moving out of home, my life has been enriched by the capabilities of the networked home, because social media is really the ‘heart of contemporary culture’ (boyd 2014).

An ethnographic snapshot of my networked home:

socials ethno

  • Me, tagging my roommate (who is sitting in the next room) in Facebook memes, to prompt various outbursts of reaction, that to the outside onlooker would appear unprovoked.
  • Conversations over Snapchat about random and entirely hilarious subject matter—these visuals add nonverbal cues that are often feared to be lost in digital communication.
  • Finding and RSVPing to nearby events that my friends and I can attend together, e.g. concerts, trips and uni nights.
  • Video-chatting and texting my friends and family in Sydney whom I miss and wish I could see more often.
  • Scrolling through the #SurvivorAU and #BachelorAU feeds to feel gratified in stranger’s reactions.
  • Using Pinterest to inspire my real life and to find content to entertain when I am at my most bored.

For me, an enhanced life from the use of social media in the networked home comes down to its ability to foster real-world interaction/strengthening of relationships, and its ability to connect us when we feel lonely or are isolated.

Turkle makes an additional point of reclaiming ‘sacred’ spaces for “real world” conversations. Spaces like the kitchen or the dining table.

Her pleas in this fashion are a reflection of her time. In 2019 we are increasingly aware of the impact that technology use has on physical interactions in the home.

We sometimes have these purist sacred spaces or moments where technology use is banned in lieu of physical conversation. However, more often (and most true in my home) we multitask between the two spaces. Using one to reinforce the other rather than to escape it.

The still-image of my networked home is an injustice to its complexity. It doesn’t demonstrate the strength of relationships it has allowed me to build, nor the sense of belonging it has fostered. It doesn’t acknowledge that we are all bettered by it.

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boyd, d. 2014, Its complicated, Yale University, e-book, accessed 26 August 2019, <https://seeingcollaborations.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/itscomplicated.pdf>

Turkle, S. 2012, Connected, but alone?, online video, TED, viewed 29 August 2019, <https://www.ted.com/talks/sherry_turkle_alone_together/transcript>

Photo by Prateek Katyal on Unsplash

in times of broken-hearted trouble,​ the television comes to me

As a child, TV was more than just convenient leisure. I felt like more than just a consumer. I find it strange that Nick Couldry in his ethnographic article ‘Theorising media as practice’ (2004) identifies these as some of the key qualities of a child’s television watching.

As a more-lonely-than-not child, I survived on a steady diet of other worlds fed to me directly from the ‘hands’ of the TV. To me it was an escape; an adventure all laid out for me.

And it always had a happy ending.

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I do however find that Couldry’s remarks upon the diminishing parental mediation of their children’s television viewing are relatable. I am thankful that my parents were relaxed in this sense as it allowed me the space to experiment with my watching habits and find content that I enjoyed.

Couldry observes that parents would decreasingly regulate the length of their child’s TV screen-time. True for me.

He also points out that parents would not evaluate what their child was watching with so much stringency. Again, true for me—I was watching Lord of the Rings before I was watching Disney (and I still love it).

Lastly, he also notes that co-use of the television with children declined, meaning there was less discussion about the programs. Also true.

Of the few fragmented memories of my childhood TV watching, these are clearest:

After school. Come home, find a snack. Sit in front of the TV, channel on ABC Kids/ABC3; don’t move until Rollercoaster ends at 6pm and the news starts.

School holidays. I stayed in and watched all ten seasons of Stargate SG1. Then all five seasons of Stargate Atlantis. It was addictive; I did this way too much. I still do this sometimes (don’t judge me).

As I grew older my relationship with TV changed. In high school I would only switch on for reality TV.

The other memory I have is unique against the rest.

I had just come home from school, probably my last day for the year. I got a strange text from my dad, something along the lines of ‘Don’t go into Sydney’. It confused me. Some instinct that told me to turn the TV on like I used to all those years before.

What I saw filled me with dread. A terror attack. Martin Place, Sydney. Hostages, snipers, telephone demands–a siege. Endless loops of news reporters saying the same things. Waiting for new information and hoping something would change. Praying.

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Picture: Channel 7 Source:Channel 7

It was in that moment I wished that my parents would come home from work and sit with me. Turn the TV off, change the channel, talk to me about it, mediate what I was doing somehow. But they wouldn’t.

What had once been a security blanket had become a window into the darkest parts of the world. And I didn’t like what I saw.

Without at first realising it, from then on, I chose for my media consumption to come from a controllable place on my computer. From streaming services and social media.

But I’ll never forget what it was like that day. The sun blaring through the window; my legs sticking to the leather couch. My eyes burning into the screen, and my fear ice-cold.

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Couldry, N 2004, ‘Theorising Media as practice’, Social Semiotics, vol. 14, no. 2, pp. 115-130

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