When I first bought a smartphone two-ish years ago, I found myself playing Angry Birds/Candy Crush/Alphabetty Saga during waiting moments–standing in line, on the subway, while waiting for someone to meet me–the typical. Maybe reaching for a positive spin, I always thought of it as 

This week’s technology metaphor: Defragmenting my day. 

But if I give it more thought, it’s not a very precise metaphor. Defragging a hard drive consists of getting rid of those interstitial spaces and jagged files edges that take up more space than they should. If I were really able to defrag my day, I would be able to use all of that redeemed time in one gulp, rather than filling it with something else. I’m making use of that time–poor use, one might argue, but use regardless–by putting something in it, but I’m not combining it. I don’t have two hours of bonus time at the end of each day.

So maybe I need to revisit this. It seems that it’s more like caulking my day, or frosting the open spaces of my day, but then those aren’t technological. And I do love categories. 

It can be a struggle to find a technology metaphor that ISN’T referring to some aspect of the human brain (although there’s always, well, “the web”). Not that this is surprising–the correlation between brain and hard drive is pretty blatant–but I would love to come across a technology metaphor that referred to something completely outside of humans and their processes…

This week’s is a little bit of a cheat, because it’s two related metaphors that I heard spoken by different people. Imagine that they’re linked with something less binding than a semi-colon but more binding than juxtaposition: “When you meditate, you increase your bandwidth” and “When you play the game and earn points, it’s an endorphin ping.”

Question to consider: did “bandwidth” and “ping” have meanings outside of technology, before computers took those terms over? Ping, certainly. Bandwidth, I’m not sure. But it’s likely that both were, in a sense, metaphorical when they were first applied to technology. Now they’re metaphorical again in the opposite direction.

A DOUBLE METAPHOR! (Please imagine that shouted by Tim Curry as Wadsworth in Clue).

 

Comment from last week: “I don’t know, technology metaphors–particularly that yoga one–strike me as desperate and insecure. Yoga has its own thing going, did we really need that metaphor to grasp what she was talking about?”

Need? No. But I think that drawing the comparison to refreshing a website says something different about the function of downward facing dog than the teacher would have communicated if she had been more straightforward. People sometimes think of down dog as a resting pose, and her metaphor made me consider it as less of a static position and more of a reset.

I’m intrigued by the idea of insecure and desperate metaphors. Do you think of all metaphors as such? You could say no metaphor is ever really necessary, but they enhance language, and when done well, cause us to reexamine the familiar in a different way. Or was it just this metaphor that struck you as desperate and insecure (personification? Or do you mean the teacher seems insecure and desperate?)? I can see how it might seem like she was pandering, thinking that we would relate better to technology than to something like “Use downward dog as a way to leave the previous poses behind and start over,” (though I don’t think she was being overly pat–it sounded like something she’d just thought of).

Now that I’m thinking about it excessively, you could make the argument that down dog is like a screensaver. And I saw an amazing, possibly accidental metaphor about a screensaver the other day…but it’s not mine to share.

This week’s technology metaphor–let’s stick with the theme–also comes from a yoga teacher (different one): “Don’t panic and forget to breathe. I can see you all thinking “When is this pose going to be over?” like you’re the spinning wheel of death that you get on a frozen Mac.”

I always think of it as the spinning pie, I will say.

One of my favorite things about technology is that new inventions, processes, and objects can be exploited for metaphor. Even if you believe there’s truly nothing new to be thought or said, you have a better shot (shot: a word that through the ages could be used in analogies relating to bows and arrows, guns, golf, basketball, photography, and on into the future) at originality if your comparison involves something that hasn’t been in existence for long.

I’ve started to collect metaphors (and similes–but technically I think they’re a subclass of metaphor) about technology as I hear them or think of them.

This week’s technology metaphor comes from a yoga teacher instructing the class into a pose that serves as a slight break from the motion of vinyasa flow: “Everyone take a downward dog whenever you need a moment–it’s like hitting the refresh button for your practice.” 

Many of the metaphors I’ve encountered so far use terminology to relate to areas that seem almost diametrically opposed to technology–yoga, meditation, therapy.

If you have a technology metaphor you’d like to send out into the world, email me at claire@clairedunnington.com, or post in the comments.

I used to read a really odd assortment of blogs. By that, I don’t mean that I read a bunch of Mormon Mommy Blogs (though I do that now) or that I read the AOL Baby Name message boards (which I did when I was 13 and thought Cinnamon might be a good name for a human), but that back in the days of LiveJournal–late high school, early college for me–I often came across the blogs of friends of friends, or friends of acquaintances, or acquaintances of acquaintances…and then got sucked in.

I don’t even know how I found those blogs. Once you’re on LiveJournal you can click your way around circles of people, yes, but I don’t know how I got there in the first place. Google? I don’t think so. Possibly. Or AOL profiles. Most of them didn’t interest me, being about people I’d never met, but a few stayed with me. Which is how I ended up reading the online diaries of a highschool friend of one of my freshman classmates, or my ex-boyfriend’s brother’s ex-girlfriend.

Maybe I should also mention that if I went to college with you, there’s a good chance I know your middle name. Well, “good” is probably an exaggeration. There’s a higher-than-I-should-admit-to chance. All I can say in my defense is that I have a really good memory for things like that–the other day, someone responded to my email with “Claire! What a nice surprise, and what a terrifying display of memory!” If it still sounds bizarre, just tell yourself that it’s not bizarre now…it’s just the remnants of my bizarre late-teenage self looking through the university’s online facebook (in the years just before Facebook) too often. Or the class directory.

Those paragraphs were a few rounds of winding up to say that blogging, and it’s veil of impermanence floating over its actual permanence, is utterly unnerving, even though I’m not writing about my own personal life. Because who knows who’s reading? The cousin of someone I knew in preschool? A Facebook friend of a friend? Face to face, I’m not particularly (at all) private or filtered. But spoken words don’t kick around in bytes forever. I recently read both So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed and Terms of Service, so I’m appropriately terrified of the internet.

And yet.

PS: I also recently read The Viral Storm and came across this passage…I was ready to agree, after Terms of Service, that data mining is pretty epically wrong even if it’s often useful, but then this:FullSizeRender

Certainly complicates things in an interesting way.

 

 

For my first blog post, I decided to share my three favorite songs about former presidents (in no particular order):

1. A Q&A with the one-term peanut farmer:

 

2. The predecessor to the listicle? by my favorite 90s emo band:

3. And with animation and backbeats:

Addendum: One of my favorite songs of all time, not about a former president per se but which does *mention* a former president, meriting its inclusion. I vacillate between preferring this version and remaining loyal to the Andy Prieboy/Johnette Napolitano original.