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Consumed By Snapchat

There’s nothing like a good snap story of you and your friends out at the bar, meeting cute people and belting “Don’t Stop Believing” with everyone else in the place.

But what baffles me is when Snapchat is used as evidence against you. I’m sure everyone has heard of at least one case of the cops using Snapchat to incriminate a suspect.

Some people think they’re too sly to get caught but then they’re Snapping from someone else’s phone that they stole. Or their Snapping inside of the car they just stole, bragging about it. Or.. Okay, I’m sure you get it.

On Feb. 21, 2015 (I can’t believe it’s been that long), BuzzFeed made a video about that one friend that Snaps everything. It’s one of my favorite things. It depicts a mock day in the life of “that guy,” but things go awry. The guy’s friend ends up dying and of course he adds that to his story.

That’s the extreme but think about what else people snap: them driving, them shooting guns, them holding newborns.. You should really be paying attention to the task at hand. Have someone else take the reigns. Hand your phone to someone that isn’t going to hurt someone.

Snap responsibly, my friends. Oh.. and don’t commit crimes.

Here’s that video for a giggle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_x8EjRIA3bY

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Internet Connection

While being at Simmons this year, I can’t recall how many times I have had an assignment due and Internet troubles simultaneously.

To which I usually exclaim, “What am I paying for?!”

There’s a weird dependence our education has on the Internet. There has been for quite some time.

I remember when I was growing up, we didn’t have Internet or cable television. So I grew up praying that one of the neighbors would lift the password from their server so I could do my homework. I would have to balance my laptop on arms of couches, the edge of desks and sometimes just on my knee for a quick second in the hallway.

It was a fun game to play, especially with two of us playing. My brother and I fought for some of those blessed, (if just for two minutes) wifi-bearing spots.

Looking back, I’m sure I could have gone over and asked Keith and his wife if I could use their wifi from their kitchen counter. Hell, they would have probably given me snacks and blankets and coffee.

But just the desperation I felt as a student without access made me ashamed to ask for help.

It was tough being a fourth grader, needing to research king penguins till the wee hours of the morning because you spent most of your time trying to find connection.

After my mom and I moved we finally had Internet that came from within the walls of our tiny apartment. Having Internet brought a sense of comfort. I could go to college and know that I would be able to write a paper and email my professor and research king penguins into the wee hours of the morning, not because I was looking for a server, but because I had just started.

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I See You

Find My Friends is one of the best and worst things to happen to iOS users. When you go out drinking, your roommates don’t have to worry about where you are, because they can see. When your friends are on their way home from errands, you know exactly how far away they are from home. When your ex forgets to stop sharing their location with you, you know they’re at this bar that far from the apartment you once spent all your time in.

Helpful for keeping your friends anxiety low. Creepy for all those who have crossed you but forgot you can track their whereabouts.

Anyway, here’s where my friends are, I’m happy most of them are doing homework.

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

Savior-Complexes Social Media: Illness Addition

I see a lot of people sharing things about people with Down Syndrome, autism and other illnesses. They usually share it with a comment like “So strong” or “I hope my kid is this cool” and I’m kind of over it.

So many people today do this thing that’s beyond slacktivism, it’s this savior-complex about disease.

As someone who’s diagnosed with a disease. I don’t want a like or a share or a comment about how awesome I am. I feel like it’s gotten to the point where it’s kind of condescending or mocking these people.

Putting them on a pedestal because of something they live with every day. They’re people. They are people who may have seemingly drawn the short straw and it’s awesome to see them thriving but sometimes I feel like we lose part of their humanity in the conversation.

I hope it’s not actually a dream of yours to have a kid with an incurable illness that makes them different and a target for harassment, bullying and unfair treatment.

I watched my brother grow up as a person on the autism spectrum and it’s not easy. His development is slower, he isn’t always aware of what’s going on in a situation, he struggled a lot with education. Yes, my brother is one of the most compassionate, sweetest souls you could ever come in contact with. But he wishes every day that he could fit in and learn to drive and be normal.

Don’t treat these people like they’re anything more than that, because that’s all they wish to be.

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Actual People

My problem with Facebook, Vine, Instagram, and the like is how the social aspect can ruin someone’s life.

How many times have you giggled at a video of someone falling down the stairs? How many break up text messages have you seen posted on your timeline? How many memes have you laughed at and then shared or made your own of?

Sometimes I feel like we forget that those are real people and the pressure to “go viral” makes the poster forget that but also the audience.

I’m sure we’ve all watched America’s Funniest Home Videos, that’s like the original “I’m laughing at someone’s expense” thing our generation will remember.

The kid that hit his father in the balls while playing wiffle ball, the kid that got ran over by his sister in their motorized toy, the kid that was head-butted by a billy goat.

We laugh and we gasp and we share. The next share could lead the information to this person’s future employer.

This kid who was filmed too drunk to function yelling, “What time is it?” at the clock is marked as a doofus with a drinking problem.

I’m not saying I’ve never done with and we have to stop sharing funny videos. I’m not saying this is something we can change, but I am saying it’s something to talk about.

These are actual people.

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

Media monopolies

We’ve spoken about consumption at great length, but I was already super aware of my consumption. At my alma mater, we were forced to record every second of media consumption. It was for a Mass Media class, kind of like this class.

My professor had us record anything that was produced by a larger entity. Facebook, Instagram, the news outlets we tuned into, the radio stations we listened to, the books we read. It was crazy involved.

To sweeten the vinegar, she had us look up who owned the source of information. So reading my Cosmo, I knew it was owned by Hearst, but my new assignment was to learn what else Hearst owned and the monopolies galore of media.

Hearst even owns Roku, you know that Netflix alternative? ESPN, yeah, they own that too.

Interested in who’s creating the content you suck up every day? Go to http://archives.cjr.org/resources/index.php and see who has their hand in what pies.

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

Reflection: KONY 2012

Let’s take it back in 2012 when I would have been a senior in high school and my friend Lexus and I were about 18.

We had always been super active in school, extracurriculars and initiative-type things. As high school freshman, in 2007, we campaigned for Obama’s first term. As sophomores we started a petitioned the school to let us do A Day Without Shoes. Then, when KONY 2012 came about, Lexus brought it to my attention.

I didn’t believe in giving money to get some starter pack but Lex was FLOORED by the video she made me watch (twice). She thought we needed to send money and we needed to be IN on this. She twisted my arm and my minuscule wallet for 10-or-so bucks, sent it out and got the box of memorabilia.

It was kind of like we had just sent money to the Bruins and we got a Fan Starter Pack.

My suspicions stuck around but she went on to share and yell about Kony at school and on facebook.

Then, within a month, it was no longer relevant. No one ever talked about it again.

Until a few years ago when someone re-shared the video and I couldn’t help but giggle about those 18-year-olds who thought they were making a difference, but probably wasted four days of lunch money on someone else’s new car.

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Please take my survey, I need more responses!

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@ Me Next Time

It’s a Twitter-sphere culture to tag someone (by handle) when frustrated with their comments/actions/existence. I would like to analyze this “@ me next time” culture.

The action that started this debacle is known as “subtweeting.” “Subtweeting” is the act of passive aggressively tweeting about another individual and not tagging their handle in it. Obviously, it’s a petty thing that I’m sure most Twitter users have done at least once since activating their accounts.

Subtweets usually look like this:

(twitter handle): Wow, I love seeing my friends having so much fun without me!¡!

Clearly, the user isn’t actually pleased about being left out of plans. They post this hoping that their friends scroll through their timelines (while they’re still together is always better) and see that they’re hurt. Then there’s a moment of guilty conscience that occurs and the original tweet gets a vengeful rise out of the friends.

I was BIG on subtweeting back in my mid- to late-teens. It was a way to say whatever you wanted and people would only feel bad if they had a guilty conscience.

Subtweets have started many a fight on my timeline since back in the day.

Then came this (almost counter-) culture of @ ing people. By adding a handle to the tweet, it became a direct attack.

As Urban Dictionary defines it:

When someone is talking shit and don’t tag you in what they are saying.

Girl 1: That bitch was talking about me.

Girl 2: @ me next time hoe.

I tried doing more in-depth research but it seems that when you google “the origins of @ me next time,” it thinks you’re literally @ ing yourself and having an existential crisis.

And that’s not what this is.

But now the culture has shifted from subtweeting your friends/archenemies/random acquaintances to directly calling them out.

My last post was about the existential void that the Internet has posed as. Now it seems like the void is starting to close and we’re targeting each other.

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The Existential Void

The Internet has gained an infamous status as a “diary” service for the people on the fringes of society and those who don’t seem like they’re being listened to. It’s almost like the Internet has become a tangible stand-in for the existential void we once joked about screaming into.

I’m going to date this back to “notes” on MySpace or MySpace in general. Back in my day, there were stupid shareable questionnaires that your friends would send you that looked kind of like this:

Do youu ~*like*~ someonee onnnn your Top 8???

Do theyyy knowww?

Howww abouttt onee of your teacherss???

Sodaaa orrr coffeeee?

Blondee or brunetteee?

What are you doing right nowww?

Who wass the lasttt person you texteddd???

Best friendddd?

(I was always confused by how they knew how many extra letters to put on the ends or if they suffered from narcolepsy and momentarily fell asleep on their keyboard.) Anyway, this is where you would vent about the cute person in your English class that you’re passive aggressively @ - ing (before it had a vernacular). Or you would openly confess that you had just fought with your mom about concert tickets you want her to get you.

You would post an update about how sad you were and how MCR was your only friend. Then your bestie would comment about how they loved you and begin the storm of acquaintances (and strictly online friends) who showered you with love. God, MySpace was a magnet for neediness and it quenched the thirst of so many, including myself, in the mid-2000s

Then Facebook hit the scene and stole MySpace’s thunder. Everyone was confused with this unfamiliar format. But as soon as we found the status bar, we took our angst from our profile song-bearing, duck-face plastered MySpaces and dragged it to Facebook.

Facebook asked us “What’s on your mind?” or “What are you doing?” and, man, did we have some doozies for replies.

Twitter then provided us with 140 character to voice our frustrations.

Friends and followers aren’t forced to read what you post. They can choose to scroll on by it. But here we are, all hoping that someone connects with our thoughts and shouts something back..

The Internet has become our void and there are billions of people shouting into it every day.

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

Problem Statement

The fashion industry is leaving out many body types, affecting people of all shapes, heights and gender expressions: Not everyone can fit into manufactured clothing the first time around.

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Research Plan

Demographics

Age: 16+

Gender expression: All

Values:

penny pinching

want to be comfortable in their clothing

feel their clothing needs aren’t being met

style

Goals & Questions

I want to learn my market’s financial concerns

Are they looking for designer?

Are they looking for consignment?

Are they looking for low cost/ high value?

What income ranges am I dealing with?

How much does price matter?

I want to determine what my market’s pain points are

Hips? (snug/ saggy)

Thighs? (snug/ saggy)

Sleeve lengths? (too long/ too short)

Pant leg lengths? (too long/ too short)

Booty? (snug/ saggy)

Calves? (snug/ saggy)

I want to know how often people are faced with these problems

Are they everyday shoppers

Are they every week shoppers

Are they every month shoppers

Are they holiday only shoppers

Are they “I don’t shop because I leave crying” shoppers?

Research Method

Survey

Competitor

MySize

Fit Note

Sizer XL

Indirect Competitors

Poshmark

Depop

thredUP

Twice

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

Little Yellow Clocks Taught Me How To Tell Time

Rushkoff explains that, “time in the digital era is no longer linear but disembodied and associative.” I can somewhat agree but my relationship with time has changed a bit as I age, technology just being a coincidence.

As small children, our understanding of morning is when the sun comes up and night is when it goes to sleep and so do you. Then you get to put numbers to that. You learn to tell time on those cute little yellow clocks with the big red hands that you get to mangle into hours and minutes (at least I did). You learn about afternoon and find out that the world doesn’t turn off when you go to bed: There are numbers still ticking between 9 and 6.

Then you introduce a school day and your day revolves around when you wake up, when your classes are, lunch, theatre, softball practice, karate and Girl Scouts. Oh, and homework. The clock ceases to really matter because you’re no longer really on it’s time, you’re waiting for it to run out of time and crawl into bed. As school days get more grueling, you became hyper aware of linear time. You watch the clock tick during your exam, you know you’re going to be late to work if the light doesn’t turn green before 5:46, you know exactly what time your parents are coming home from work. Your life relies on the clock and beating it.

Growing up, the Internet was just starting to boom. I was in fourth grade when YouTube was launched, when I was 14 I started my (now deleted) MySpace page (*cringe*) and in eighth grade I made my first Facebook. I remember what life was like before everyone had a super computer in their pocket.

I haven’t completely caught on to the disembodied argument Rushkoff makes. I wouldn’t say I’m there as far as my consumption. But I understand why he’s going where he’s going with that thought. I don’t live for the next post or the next music video. I live for my occasional ability to set a 10 o’clock alarm and plan the linear day ahead of me.

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Rinsta v. Finsta

It wasn’t until I came to Simmons that I was exposed to the lifestyle of The Finsta. I remember sitting at the Chipotle on Brookline with some friends and they were talking about finsta. Finsta this, your finsta that, omg your finsta post. So there I am, older than both of these ladies by 4 long, long years (eons they feel like), asking, “What’s finsta?”

I was thinking that it was a separate app, I literally looked it up in the App Store. Then they explained that it was a “fake Instagram” where you post embarrassing things that you don’t want everyone to see. An important part of finsta is that you keep it set to private. These are things you don’t want your mom, dad, crush or employer seeing. The most important rule is that your name has to be punny and maybe slightly embarrassing. 

I thought it was childish and said I wouldn’t make one but I succumbed to peer pressure after the excuse, “I don’t have a witty name,” was shattered by a friend who thought up the handle @chickenschwing.

Finsta opens up a whole new world of sharing. Absolutely fueling the conversation around Millennials oversharing, there is a freedom to Finsta.

My finsta has posts about how much I dislike my boss, what I did the night before and my inability to focus on anything besides anything not related to school.

My friends introduced the idea of the evolutions of your finsta. When you feel like you’ve become a different kind of sharer or your lifestyle brings out a funnier, more suiting name, you change your handle.

I started with @chickenschwing, switched it to @schwingandamiss and am now @sloppyschwing.

I think that finsta says a lot about our want to connect as intimate beings. We want to show these parts of ourselves but don’t always feel comfortable doing it without that fourth wall that the Internet provides.

That leaves the topic of The Rinsta, the “real Instagram,” where you show your put on face. For the most part, you don’t post negative things and keep your bologna to yourself. There are so many things that are off limits on your rinsta, there is a limit to what you can post.

The finsta versus rinsta divide is strong but I feel it it also freeing.

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

Overcompensating in my cutlery drawer.

(If you are able bodied, this joke is probably not for you.)

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Finding Sameness on the Interwebs

As I’ve stated in class, I have MS. After coming to terms with that news and starting to tell people, all they had to offer were stories of their grandmother’s best friend who was in a wheelchair and not doing well. I didn’t like the picture all those stories starting painting about my future. So I went to the Internet for help.

Help came in the form of hashtags and a trail of people who were sick and still alive, even better - still living.

The MS community on Instagram at first seemed like a silly place to make friends, but it could possibly be why I’m still alive today.

These people are hikers, triathletes, mothers, fathers, students, teachers, gym-goers and their succeeding.

These people helped me see the light in a very difficult situation.

Trending hashtags led me to different kinds of chronically ill people and I was introduced and welcomed into the world of “spoonies,” a term used for people living with chronic illnesses.

A term coined in a story told by a woman with Lupus equating spoons to units of energy. She’s kind of the one that started this when she gave us a name. She gave us not just a name but a sense of sameness.

Our history is shaped by our undying love for life and the need to reach out and connect. Also our love and need for naps. Connect with people that know what it’s like to poop your pants in public, need a nap or not be able to feel below your waist sometimes.

We were forced together by morbid and uncomfortable circumstances but we build our community on openness and carrying on. Knowing that I can message any of my spoonie friends when I need a med recommendation or a moment to vent or I have a question is the best feeling.

We are known for our posts with hashtags calling attention to cures but hopefully even more so known by our ability to fight until that day comes. It’s not uncommon for a spoonie to post a picture of a new wheelchair, a PIC line, a hospital selfie or an inspiration quote because this community I’ve joined has a this feeling. There’s a reason a lot of the hashtags end with “warrior.”

We go through a lot and still make time to check in with each other and stay compassionate. As social media grows, we have more outlets to show who we are and give faces and voices to diseases that people probably only know of through the grapevine.

I don’t belong to many communities online, too much spam mail - but being a spoonie is one of my favorite identifiers.

[schwingandamiss-blog1]

COMM 323 - “Filter Bubble” Response

Eli Pariser’s “Filter Bubble” shifted the conversation for me. For so many years I’ve heard the argument that we shelter ourselves from uncomfortable, unfamiliar, different-minded content, but it wasn’t quite our decision. That gives me both solace and pause. As I scroll through my feed, I’m vastly aware of the fact that a majority of my friends are as liberal-minded as I am, but Pariser is right, it’s become more and more difficult to find links that my more conservative-minded friends share. As a journalist, I pride myself on my ability to acknowledge and set aside my bias and I enjoy researching conservative topics. Finding that content, however is no longer as easy as a finger flick through my newsfeed. I have to go out of my way to find information that doesn’t align with my mindset. I can only imagine that playing terribly into the polarization of the country. If we’re only exposed to things and people that we agree with, we are never set up to have too much growth from those conversations. My feed for the last 100 posts can be categorized by memes, politics, mocking politics and animals. The distribution is undoubtedly left-leaning: #NoMuslimBan posts, pro-Planned Parenthood posts, Onion articles mocking Trump and LGBTQ-friendly links. Again, I’m liberal, so I’m not uncomfortable but I guess that’s where the problem lies after watching Pariser’s TED talk. I’m not being forced out of this liberal bubble that is being tailored to me. My feed’s impact would be that it holds me in this bubble until I put on my investigative pants and fight my way out. I guess one could say it’s more of a non-effect or a non-impact until you’re conscious of it.