Digital Culture Studies

We did it, even though most of our neighbours did not. And although we live pretty green, we learned that we still have too many things that plug in. More frustrating was how little changed the Chicago skyline was during the hour - big buildings did turn off their lights, but plenty did not.

Scrabble by candelight is hard. Or maybe it was the wine. Better pictures than mine of Earth hour events can be seen in the Earth Hour Flickr Pool. But the big question is, did participation make a difference? Time says, maybe. Sceptics say no. Believers say yes. ComEd says there was a 5% reduction in power useage between 8-9, as compared to last Saturday. Is 5% enough? I don’t think so.

Of course the essential problem remains: people who think this is a problem will always be looking for ways to lower their carbon footprint number, and people who don’t think it is a problem will not, and as long as there are more people in the second camp than the first, very little will change, and that seems like a great shame.

• The Color of My Words
• Silent to the Bone
• The First Part Last
• Romiette and Julio
• The Outcasts of 19 Schuyler Place

The Library of Congress has a Flickr site. And a blog. In their own words, “If all goes according to plan, the project will help address at least two major challenges: how to ensure better and better access to our collections, and how to ensure that we have the best possible information about those collections for the benefit of researchers and posterity.”

Netvibes: a custom made web 2.0 home page solution. I didn’t even know how badly I needed this until I found it, but there is something so beatifully simple about a modular based customizable personal portal site that just mashes up the best of Web 98 and Web 2.0. Simple, elegant, and best of all, it comes in English and French. And apparently, soon to be available in Esperanto! A few basic themes, the ability to back up your feeds via an OPML file…. it is always nice to come across a web product that solves a problem for you.

I feel so …. organized. And there are so many modules to download.

I can’t get this to embed properly, but if you haven’t seen this yet, I highly recommend it: The Machine Is Us/ing Us. Via Lawrence Lessig. Made by.

In the Chronicle this week was a brief article that referenced the CNet article about Universities setting up virtual campuses in Second Life. Couched in the notion that this might be a welcome relief to the lack of classroom space on many campuses was the always present fear of change, naturally, but an interesting note in the article (to me) is the collarboration between Emily Carr, BCIT, Simon Fraser and UBC, which have jointly created the Great Northern Way campus, to create, “…a collaborative initiative in education, research and technology transfer with a focus on the convergence of science and technology with art, culture and design.”

Now that is some interdisciplinarianism right there! It is funny to me the resistance that often occurs upon mention of a virtual classroom in Second Life - a defensiveness, of sorts, about how there is only one way to impart knowledge, and it cannot be improved upon, in any situation, or any circumstance, at any time whatsover, and trying to do so will only lessen the lesson.

I am not a Second Lifer (I have an account, but have only logged in to participate in specific events), but the more I read these articles, the more tempted I am, if only because building objects looks like so much fun. See also, Second Life’s Sketchy Census.

I read her on vox, before that, livejournal, before that, on hoopla, and harpold.com, and all her wonderful collaborative work, since 1996 I have been reading her online.  She was fundamental to the creation of the personal side of the web, and her many online projects, including her famous advent calendar, were brilliant, as was she.
I don’t really have any words right now to express how utterly heartbroken I am at the passing of Leslie Harpold.  I met my husband because of her, back when he was writing the Feed Hollywood column for Smug, and we lived 3000 miles away from each other, in 2 different countries, back when logic dicated that there was no reason on earth that the two of us would ever meet. It is a great story, in the way that the best true stories always sound completely unbelievable, but I owe my life with this wonderful man to Leslie Harpold, and I have always been grateful to her for that.

While I always knew how much she meant to me, what I have found out today is just how many people’s lives Leslie touched - the stories being told across the web are of her kindness, her incredible friendship, her sense of humour, and what comes through is how much she cared about other people. Those tributes are much better than anything I could ever write here, and so, some links:

• I met Leslie Harpold six years ago when a large cardboard box showed up unexpectedly at my door. Inside was a large 32 gallon stainless steel trash can that I’d added to my Amazon wish list a few weeks before on a whim. The gift note inside said (…and I’m paraphrasing) “I wanted to meet the sort of freak who’d put a 32 gallon stainless steel trash can on   his wish list. —Leslie Harpold”

• And then there were the gifts. Always gifts, extravagant or modest but always just the thing. Gifts for no reason other than it seemed like something you needed. Zip files of mp3s from bands you need to hear now, clip art I can’t believe you don’t have, and all the fonts you need to make that design not suck as much. Jeez. One day, completely out of nowhere, Leslie sent me every mp3 she could find of bands covering “Never My Love” by the Association. She stopped what she was doing and went out and found them on Limewire or whatever and then sent them to me. Here you go.

• On a bitter cold day in January, when I was frustrated and hopeless, the saddest I’ve ever been, she came through for me unexpectedly with kindness and love. I don’t exaggerate when I say I don’t know where I’d be today without her.
  

• Leslie decided I was a writer long before I did, and I’m grateful for that. I was reluctant to consider that anyone would want to read something I’d written, and I honestly believe that any courage I’ve been able to summon to share my writing was ignited and fueled by her insistent suggestion. Leslie stuck with me, even when it required foiling a lot of my very exhausting self-doubt, because I was her project.

• l…like most people who knew her, she did me a favor I didn’t know I needed precisely when I needed it. Hell, I didn’t even really know her at the time, but when I made a remark in a virtual forum we both frequented about not feeling completely comfortable being there, Leslie, as much as a person can do via email, shook me by the collar and told me, “you belong here”. A small gesture and perfectly Leslie, but it helped me (eventually) find who I was.

• That idea, to do Something Worthy, came from that lunch and from talking with Leslie, but it’s bloomed into something else. I still write because Leslie Harpold just said, up on the patio at Moscone Center, “You should do it.”

Leslie was an incredible writer, and of all she wrote, this is what I will remember best:

(Some of what the web has taught me.)

I have seen it all whether I wanted to or not, made more friends than I can count, more than I could link were every letter a separate site or chance to claim an affiliation. I have made money, art, and mistakes, all out in public for everyone to see, remember, forget, ignore, link to, and still, will always be known as the girl whose domain name was stolen.

I have witnessed true love, changed minds, seen people convince one another to move across country, across countries, true love, false love, idolatry and admiration. I have seen tenderness and scratched the surface to see true beauty. There will always be my first, and I hope I never live to see my last. There are people I still haven’t met, even after years, but would still call if something great happened, and have cried to when bad things have. People who were there for me when I needed it, and are there when I don’t. People who also let me help them when I can.

Goodbye, Leslie Harpold. You are deeply missed.

He hacked his brain.

In my left hand desk drawer is a postcard, sent to me by Margaret Atwood. If ever there was a fire in my house, it is entirely possible that this would be one of the things I grab, along with my 200G backup drive and the dog.

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