Andrew over at Jap|andrew has an interesting take on Moblogging and its parallels to the vision of sci-fi writer Robert Heinlein:
So what was Heinlein’s vision all about? Basically, implants would allow viewers access data, streamed live from the “actor” who would spend their lives living for their viewers, while their viewers spent their lives living vicariously through the actors. How far away are we from this? Not that far, I think. Technologically speaking we are probably still quite a long way away, but otherwise we are almost there. Moblogging is just not quite as sexy as Heinlein’s version….
Andrew goes on to write:
So will I ever moblog? No. Frankly, I couldn’t be bothered. Do I think we should ever do the Heinlein thing? No. And to be honest, I don’t think anyone should have the gall to think that their lives are so interesting that people actually would want to see through their eyes 24-7.
All well and good, though I’m not sure “gall” is the word I would use, as it implies that the person living the hyperexamined 24-7 life would somehow be imposing his hubris on a consuming public who presumably would have the choice to view it (or not).
However, there was something in Andrew’s post that did bother me:
When I go to a temple here in Japan, I don’t want to be thinking of what pictures readers of this journal will want to see and when I go out for the weekend, I don’t want to be thinking of what my “theme” is going to be so that I can write about it here. I would rather just enjoy the experience, write some random thoughts here and let anyone who is interested have a look.
Isn’t that better in the end? Does everything have to be a production? Show me the simple life.
This reminds me not a little of the argument I used to hear a lot from fellow students in art school, when I would dare to actually discuss a film or artwork we had seen in class. “Why can’t you just enjoy the film, instead of having to analyze it?” was the nagging plaint. It never occurred to my naysayers that analyzing the film and engaging my mind in critical thinking was supremely enjoyable to me.
I certainly don’t view my blog as a “production,” in the sense I feel Andrew is using the term, ie. with elaborate planning and preparation. But I do see it as a creative work, a creative outlet for me, and a creative extension of other things I do, such as my photography. I care about what I publish, spend some time considering whether or not it will be of any value to those who stop by (and sometimes I choose not to spend time on such considerations), pay attention to feedback and comments I get, etc. That is just me. Just one approach. It works for me (for now). I don’t presume it’s any “better in the end” than any other approach, or worse for that matter.
Given this approach, I fully admit there’s an element of “this would be good to blog about” to things I do and places I go, which to me is no different from the freelance writer who keeps a file of story ideas, or carries their notebook with them wherever they go. To me, envisioning how I might write about some outing or event (looking for the “angle” as it’s called in reporting) adds another element to how I experience said outing or event. (It also helps me get through things I don’t want to do, like visiting relatives!) But I don’t think I’ve yet done something for the specific purpose of blogging about it.
But even if I were to take that approach, I don’t see anything inherently wrong in it, nor do I see it as somehow less “simple” than “enjoying the experience, writing random thoughts, and letting anyone enjoy it” etc. I suppose what bothers me is this false premise of “simple,” as if there’s some sort of primordial essence of blogging, or writing, or of life for that matter, with which other manifestations get measured against. It’s a bogeyman, frankly. Whether you choose to leave your blogging hat at home or not, how we experience things is never simple, never pure, never unadulterated. Both Andrew’s and I’s approach to how we write about the events of our respective lives are refractions of reality, experiences distilled though our eyes, and further filtered through the multifarious lenses of those who read us, a process which locates whatever we write, however we have written it, in a place far from simple.
Bottom line: Blogging, in any form, is what you make of it. The opinion of one’s blog is not that of another. I refuse to follow a “theme” or “flow” and if I choose to moblog something completely useless, that’s my choice.
If anyone is being vain, I’d suggest Andrew.
Hmmm…. I am waiting for the day that my thoughs can cross the void between you and me. They would echo in each other’s heads and then, maybe finally we can overcome the hatred and ingorance of current day life.
Well, Kurt, I’ve done it enough times now that it will probably not surprise you if I pull out Myers-Briggs again.
This sounds like the dichotomy between T-types and F-types. T-types, (like you and me) enjoy things with our brains; analysis is pleasurable because it clarifies and codifies the experience. F-types enjoy things with their hearts; analysis blurs the experience–takes them out of it (and maybe reminds them of writing book reports or something).
As the Japanese say, juunin toiro (ten people, ten colors); that is, to each his own.
Like Dave, I am waiting for the time when all our thoughts are accessible to everyone else… no encryption needed. The world would be so much better if no one could lie. I could see what anyone else is seeing real-time. The end of the “grass is greener” syndrom. About a year ago I had a week on my blog that was dated 30 years in the future, a daily journal yet to be, and that ESP brain chip was a big part of it.
I thought about the actor-viewer relationship a lot before (in the context of having some great ESP-like chip in the brain), and although I agree that most peoples lives are not so interesting that anyone would want to watch it 24/7, I do think that this relationship could be exploited greatly by wealthy people living dangerously (vicariously) through poorer “actors”. I want to experience jumping off a cliff without a parachute but I don’t want to die… I’ll pay some poor sap to do it for me he’ll die, but his family will be well provided for.
On a lighter note, just think how much more exciting a football game on ESPN would be if we could actually feel the pain.
Even if there was no ESP chip, it would be interesting to “control” an actors life through more currently available means. We could be constantly updated as to what is going on in the persons life, and sit back and make decisions about how the person should live their life, but we don’t have to face the consiquences.
Kevin, that would be an ESPN chip, right?
M, I think you are right about the personality difference. For me, analysis, setting up shots, working out content, trying to figure out what people want to hear instead of just “going with the flow” doesn’t feel real to me. It is that “not feeling real” syndrome that made me stop the other day when I toured the temples in Kamakura and think, “What am I doing?”
I realise in retrospect that my post does seem a little harsh to those people who are moblogging, but it was not intended to be that way (my fault for not communicating my thoughts clearly). For me, I think the enjoyment is lessened if I do the things that Kurt has pointed out that he enjoys. Our preferred methods of artistic expression differ. But that makes the whole thing more interesting.
Andrew
Damn! I was thinking about this conversation on the way to the dentist this morning, and I realized that my analysis was a bit off. The cause is probably due to the differences between
S-types, who rely on their senses (think, Missouri–the “show-me” state), and N-types, the intuitives who are can live happily inside their heads.
When an NT, like me, tries to talk to an SF, it’s really hard to find common ground. One of the reasons I keep a blog and take photos is that if I don’t “process” the experience, then it’s lost to me forever. And why bother doing it, if I can’t remember it? But as Andrew says, an SF has just the opposite reaction. It removes him from the experience, makes him a watcher, not an actor, in his own life.
Heinlein? Heinlein never wrote anything even approaching what Andrew suggests. I would respectfully suggest that if his understanding of the issues surrounding blogging are akin to his understanding Heinlein or Heinlein’s work, then we can easily ignore it all.