Guys, I did a thing I've been wanting to do since like, my freshman year in high school I made a podcast with my friends! We play D&D and it's called Don't Die! You can listen to it here!
I'm gonna give a little reflection here, because this project actually started as homework for Morgan's class (hi Morgan!). I knew I had a pretty big challenge coming (the assignment was probably not supposed to be an hour long, but Morgan has always given lots of room for interpretation of her assignments, which is why there's a link to a full hour podcast above). So, below, let's get into the rhetoric of my friends fighting goblins and making weed jokes. I'm going to address a few pre-written questions and dig into topics of audience, genre, and the process we used to record. Who, specifically, is the intended audience for this piece of media? What audience(s) are invoked in the piece? This question actually took a second to think about. To answer, I kind of had to dig into my influences, which I could probably spend an entire other blog post talking about. First and foremost, The McElroy family’s podcast The Adventure Zone was an enormous inspiration for getting started and putting a story together via D&D, for listener’s entertainment. And I think, having listened to their podcast for the last six months or so, I did a good job emulating, but not copying Griffin, the McElroys’ eternal dungeon master. As their first story went on, his narration got very cinematic, with much of his narration being recorded outside he and his family’s sessions of play. I loved this, as it worked well to tell their increasingly complex story, but I can’t see myself ever using this strategy; I prefer to keep my friends in the room while I tell the story, even parts that have nothing to do with them yet, because they’re telling the story alongside me; they’re part of it. In a sort of weirder direction, another influence of mine was the plethora of video games I played as a kid, particularly 8-bit beat-‘em-ups and RPGs like Pokémon, Final Fantasy, EarthBound, and weirdly enough, Mortal Kombat. You can really see that influence in the music I used (MUCH more on this later) but also in the simplicity of the piece. This episode in particular is just the beginning, featuring characters that aren’t really fully fleshed out yet, so there are several directions the story can go in as our characters get stronger and reveal more of their pasts, goals, and talents. In the same vein, Maya and Dakota had both never played Dungeons and Dragons in their lives, so there was a lot of explanation throughout the podcast, which I think fit right in in a very weird way. Considering all this, I think I’ve found a very niche demographic in terms of audience, a group of people I’m actually a member of, as well: my intended audience is young people, who likely grew up in the 90s and early 2000s, played video games, and have an interest in collaborative story that has roots in their own histories with role-playing video games. I took a great deal of space to answer a pretty simple question, but you got some good rhetorical analysis out of it, so I doubt you’re upset. What is the specific genre of your audio composition? Why did your choose this genre? What affordances and constraints did you encounter as you tried to produce this particular kind of audio media? What I want to drive home most about Don’t Die is that all we want to do is tell a story. And it may not always be clear to us where that story’s going, but I think that’s actually the real soul of D&D—it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. And what’s wonderful about that journey is that you and your best friends get to make it up as you go along. As for me, the dungeon master, I’ve got ideas, sure, but I’m always (ALWAYS) ready for them to fall apart and to give the steering wheel to my players. So, at it’s basest, this is a storytelling podcast, but I’ve just been telling everybody it’s a D&D podcast, because that’s actually become a genre of its own. Now, let’s talk about constraints. My house, like many, is made of wood. While that’s usually conducive for many things like fire and termites, it’s not very good for podcasting. We had to rig up the weirdest studio in one of our vacant upstairs bedrooms, consisting of a small coffee table (for my laptop and Jacob Fox’s microphone), a curtain over the window (without a rod because there was no way to hang it; I had to jam it into the frame) and two blankets, one hanging on my broken lamp, and the other sitting on the floor for Dakota and Fox’s comfort. Most of the time, you play D&D sitting around a table, and we technically did, just sitting on the floor so the mic could pick us up more easily. Thankfully, I can’t think of any other constraints than the actual rules of the game, which I’m very lenient with in the first place. For instance, when Joanna makes her first attack, we definitely went against the traditional rules of the game, which tend to limit a fighter’s options in combat to one target at a time. The truth is, I just hate saying no to people when they want to do something cool in a game—why limit everybody? I know that may irk a few traditionalist fans of the game, but if that’s the price to pay for my friend hacking and slashing her way through the world I’ve made, I think I’ll live. Explain and think through the specific and different uses of sound, music, silence, and vocal style. How does each of these elements establish ethos, appeal to emotion, or help build logos in the piece? Okay, this is one I’ve been wanting to talk about for a hot minute. Before I left class on Friday, I asked Morgan what she thought about using electronic music in the podcast. She seemed a little put off by it, not necessarily like she was against the idea, but I was definitely going to have to work to pull it off. And I’m really happy with what I’ve got. The use of electronic music (specifically chiptunes) is a not to the show’s video game influences, as well as the Adventure Zone, which also has several original soundtracks that I still jam to every once in a while. Unfortunately, I don’t know the first thing about making my own music, so I reached out to my friend Curtis, who’s been doing it since he was in high school. I figured his music would really lend itself to the opening and closing themes, as well as the music accompanying our fight scenes (well, fight scene…there will be more damage dealt in episode 2, I promise!). As for the vocal styles, I chose to stay pretty laid back in my approach with everybody. I want the audience and my friends to be comfortable with our style of storytelling, and I figured the best way to make that happen was to just narrate the same way I do when I’m just playing the game. The result was okay, I think. Our biggest problem in the episode was probably talking over each other, but that’s to be expected in a large group of people, and I think as we keep going with the story (which I fully intend to do) we’ll get better about our speech and be a bit more coherent. Also, I’m not absolutely happy with the sound quality, but it’s the best we could do—I don’t have a real studio or anything, as much as I’d like one someday. What’s really great is that Dakota has some really good sound equipment, and he’s offered to allow us to use his microphones and recording software, so I hope things get more and more professional and the story gets better as we go along. Hey, I want to say that if you listened to this podcast, thank you so much. We had so much fun making it and I seriously can’t wait to see where this story goes. Expect more moral ambivalence, axes, arrows in Arthur’s stomach, and sick barbarian chiptunes as we go along. On that note, I’m gonna sign off. I’ve got more editing to do! Matt So, who’s ready for more Dungeons and Dragons?
I’m going to kick this analysis off by warning my audience members that aren’t Morgan Leckie (hello again!) that this will be full of spoilers. If you’ve had any interest in watching the McElroy family’s podcast The Adventure Zone, then you might not want to read this analysis, because it’s brimming with spoilers. If you’re a person who doesn’t read introductions to rhetorical analyses, then this is probably a very unlucky day for you. But hopefully, you read this paragraph, and you know that—again—there are huge spoilers coming ahead, so do NOT read this analysis if you don’t want the ending of the show spoiled! We good? Good. So begins my rhetorical analysis of a specific event in The Adventure Zone. For the uninitiated, this podcast is a collaborative story-via-Dungeons and Dragons told by my favorite podcasters—the McElroy Brothers (and their father Clint). The show stars Travis McElroy as human fighter Magnus Burnsides, Justin McElroy as elven wizard Taako (pronounced taco), Clint McElroy as dwarven cleric Merle Highchurch, and Griffin McElroy as the dungeon master (so, literally everyone else). A great deal happens in the show, including Mad Max-style desert races, tragic backstories, and hundred-year-long journeys. I won’t get into all that, but if you’ve got a lot of time on your hands (give or take eighty hours) then I definitely recommend listening to this podcast all the way from episode one. But for this particular analysis, we’ll be looking into a very serious and satisfying moment in the series: the peaceful death of beloved protector and ruff boi (that is how you spell it) Magnus Burnsides. I chose this event specifically because it carries a great deal of weight in the show, and does well to showcase the improvisational nature of the McElroy’s podcasts, even when they branch off into fiction. You can find the specific scene wonderfully animated YouTube artist William Chong here, but take note that for this, I’m just using the audio. A little more context—in rhetorical terms, I’m giving some reasoning as to why this section is an appeal to emotion (AKA pathos). First, you should know that Magnus has just passed on to the astral plane, where, in the canon of The Adventure Zone, all souls travel to after death. As for Kravitz, who makes a very brief appearance in the scene, his job is to usher souls peacefully into the astral plane; he’s essentially our idea of a less-grim Grim Reaper. By this point in the series, he’s made appearances in several different parts of the story, and is, in fact, dating Taako, our favorite wizard. There’s a lot to it, but that’s about all you need to know for this scene outside of Magnus. As for Magnus, he’s one of our beloved main characters, and has a notoriously tragic backstory in the series: a vengeful rival murdered our hero’s new bride and father-in-law. In this clip, however, Magnus and we are finally given closure, and he is reunited with his wife after years of adventuring and not quite caring whether he lives or dies. This gung-ho attitude actually ties into the more mechanical, nitty-gritty parts of the game, as Magnus’ fighting style is protection; basically, his role in combat is to make hitting others harder, and hitting himself easier. So, this scene, in which Magnus dies peacefully, surrounded by the beloved characters we’ve gotten to know throughout the series is a marker of growth. Instead of dying violently as he expected, Magnus got to live a long, storied life—as his wife Julia jokes, “You lived much so much longer than I thought you were going to.” The writing here, as it is through the whole series, flawlessly fits the situation around it. So, let’s get a little deeper into the situation. Particularly, I want to talk about the auditory tools the McElroys (well, mostly Griffin, who does all of the editing and narration) employ to tell such a heavy story. For a little over a minute and a half of this clip, we’re just given Griffin’s narration and some sparse acting from Travis. This a cappella narration, if you will, is no less moving than any other part of the piece. In fact, listening to this scene for the first time, I found myself crying. And now, a little more detached from the situation, I know it’s because of all the work put into the making of this series. This clip is from the show’s sixty-ninth episode, with each one lasting between one and two hours. The episodes themselves are long, but it’s Griffin’s narration—his descriptions, his action, his character dialogue—that keeps things moving smoothly. As for the acting in this clip, I think there’s a lot more to be said. Throughout the series, one source of humor was that none of the actors/players/family members would use consistent character voices, with the exception of Justin, whose voice for Taako was an aristocratic, almost condescending falsetto. However, Magnus’ gravelly, can-do voice was present throughout most of the series, and of course, in this scene. This voice, subtle, but distinct from Travis’ own voice, is important to note because it lets us know when the podcaster is stepping into his character’s shoes, not just acting but playing the role he took on in the series’ beginning. And, the fact that Travis stays in character throughout the entire scene also says a great deal about Griffin’s narrative skills. (Side note: in a post-finale discussion with the other cast members, ingeniously named The “The Adventure Zone” Zone, Travis did admit to crying here. Again, I can say the exact same thing) There’s one final thing I’d like to bring up, and that’s the music Griffin used in the scene. The song, titled “Julia” is actually by another artist, Reeder. I thought the music was worth bringing up for a few reasons. First, it just fits the scene so well. We certainly don’t get a sense of finality here, rather that of a new beginning. The steady waltz carries us forward through some pensive melodies, and perhaps downwards into some darker variations on that melody, but always ending on that lighter note, and always forward with that pleasant rhythm. And second, it’s one of the few Times Griffin actually employs music other than his own in the series. True, the theme song throughout is a Mort Garson track titled “Deja Vu” and some other artists’ music makes appearances throughout the series, but for the most part, Griffin chooses to compose his own music for the series. His use of other music, I think, serves as a nod to others’ work, and a reminder that all good creators reach outside themselves for inspiration. And, of course, it always helps your story move forward to have some music helping it along. This is about all I have to say regarding the McElroy’s rhetorical techniques in The Adventure Zone. There’s a lot of pathos, which I think is to be expected in fiction. But if you find yourself with some extra time on your hands, I absolutely recommend this show. For some further reading, I’ll drop one more link for you—an article that I feel really captures the nature of the McElroy’s podcasting and their philosophy behind entertainment. I really hope to emulate these guys, both in public and private life. And that’s how I’ll end things today. See you guys! Matt Surprise! I edited it! You didn't see this coming! Unless you did, in which case, take a look at my edits! My professor, Morgan Leckie (hi!) suggested I do some work on the font. I also wanted to fix some of the vectors, which you obviously see above! To tell the truth, I'm much happier with this version's general look and feel; the serif font looks more official and, I hope, grabs your attention much more efficiently. The new images also just look much better where they are, as well.
I didn't change anything with the text, itself, since I was happy with the information there. If you're interested in D&D, I really hope you found this informative! Again, I'm particularly happy with what I have, and can't wait to continue making content for this class. Next up, I'll be putting together a podcast! Thanks for reading, I can't wait to show you guys what I can do! Matt Some more on dungeons and dragons (and also, hello again!) So, if you're a Ball State student of staff member (that's the majority of this blog's readership), you're probably coming back from spring break. Hopefully, you had a great time! I absolutely did, visiting my partner's dad in Seattle, the land of hipsters and vegan bistros. Anyway, here's a blog post about failure and success, and how they often have to coexist. Here's what I spent some of my time working on over break--it's an infographic on character creation in the current edition of Dungeons and Dragons, and I'd like to preface your viewing with the fact that I'm...less than satisfied with it. So, I'm going to start off with some positives. For one, I'm happy about the verbal part of this visual/verbal. The text, I feel, is equal parts informative and entertaining. I pride myself on being a goofball, but I'm also pretty well-informed when it comes to D&D. Sadly, I'm not very well-informed when it comes to Adobe InDesign. For one, I think the fonts I had available didn't complement the material available. I chose the simplest one I could find, a sans-serif that wasn't too distracting from the rest. But, unfortunately, looking at it now, things just feel boring. I hoped to make things a little more interesting and engaging through the actual font, but I look at it now and I just don't feel excited. As for the visuals, I thought they looked good in place, but I'm worried that they don't seem to be useful in the context of everything else there; we vaguely know that D&D consists of rolling dice, but we don't know what these dice do, or why they're important. That actually has given me a new idea for another infographic, one that adds a bit of practicality to some of the things I worked on in the background that didn't really get to shine. Initially, I actually put some vectors together on Photoshop that I intended to use in place of the ones there now. Like the infographic, they're not pretty, but I honestly would have preferred them to what I used--specifically, what you see is in place because the transparent background I put on my homemade dice didn't work when I uploaded the images to InDesign.
Back to the idea: I think I'd like to put together another infographic that defines each die, and determines for people new to the game what each die is used for (i.e. a twenty-sided die is used for skill and attack rolls, a twelve-sided die is used for greataxes and spells, a four-sided die is for daggers, etc.). Sadly, my InDesign free trial has ran out, so if I have time to put things together, I'll have to use a school computer. I suppose that what I want readers to take away from this is that, well, design is a learning process. There will always be aspects of your projects that you're not quite happy with; we have to make compromises. And for me, I've learned that I need to own those compromises. I know that the more I use Adobe programs, the likelier I am to be satisfied with my products. This infographic isn't a failure. It's not necessarily a success, but there are successful aspects to what I have. And I'm glad to say that, at the very least, I may have taught you a few things about D&D. Also, I hope you're interested in D&D. If not, sorry for wasting your time! I think I'll end things on that note. Here's to the last half of my last semester! Matt Dungeons and rhetoric and dragons Seeing your passions turn into products is part of growing up. As children, we can become enraptured in the worlds that creative minds have spun together, and in that sense, fiction becomes our truth: Pikachu really is our best friend, the villagers in Animal Crossing are real, it’s us embarking on an epic quest to defeat Ganon. We let these worlds absorb us and eventually become part of us because in them, we’re someone with power and agency, things children don’t tend to have. But, of course, children grow. We have grown, and continue to do so. Eventually, we take a step to separate fantasy and reality, though people (millennials especially, in my experience) hold onto these stories and worlds dearly—I can’t begin to tell you how many of my friends have Harry Potter or Pokémon tattoos. Despite this well-nurtured connection with the worlds of our childhoods, we still must split these from our own lives. We must acknowledge that, while hundreds of creative minds did work together to weave a fabulous story for us, there were just as many minds working to sell us (or our parents) those very stories. Knowing this, it’s hard to find that enigmatic line between art and product; the seas of advertisements we see today used to represent so much more to us as children. To dive deeper into this quandary, I’ve taken on the task of dissecting the branding of Dungeons and Dragons—a relatively new passion of mine, but still something with roots dug deep into my imagination both as a child and as an adult. What I’ve found is that how Wizards of the Coast has decided to represent their product still manages to keep its product—one that’s certainly gone through a great deal since its creation—fresh, exciting, and imaginative. Our first impression, naturally, is D&D’s homepage. Based on the amount of links and times we see read more printed across the page, we find truly the most common use of a home page—it’s there for convenience and organization first and foremost. Most striking is the featured art the company uses for its latest products. The one that takes up the most space, currently, is promotional art for Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, their next hardcover. I have to say, it’s imposing art: a mysterious, bald man wearing flowing robes and sporting an impressive goatee, reflected in several round mirrors. Uncover the Conflicts of the Multiverse, reads some white text to the left. The nerd I am, I can’t help but be excited to uncover these conflicts. But there’s even more to this homepage—actually, at first glance, it feels like a bit too much. Below the link for Tome of Foes is a bunch of scrolling rectangles, sporting even more high fantasy art and even some simpler work in a cartoon style. All of these lead to different links for different products. Of course, this is to be expected. D&D is a huge franchise that’s only grown in popularity recently. But I feel like these ads take away from the mystery of (who I assume to be) some spooky guy named Mordenkainen. It cuts into the childlike wonder associated with fighting bald, goateed wizards and plundering ancient dungeons. But I understand what they’re doing there; as I mentioned, D&D is a huge franchise. They’ve got boxed sets and dice and supplements and entire books to sell. Speaking of which, let’s take a look at their available products, the third tab above all of the art and materials I mentioned previously (we’ll get to the second tab, Story, later). Here, we can sift through the hundreds of products Wizards of the Coast have available for us to buy. And while it’s possible to purchase the items from the site itself, the company still encourages customers to buy their products from their local game stores. This encouragement to support small and local businesses paints the artists and salespeople behind D&D in a good light, and assures me that I can still contribute to my community if I’m interested in playing their games. These games, including video games, card and board games, and the more traditional tabletop role playing games, are all organized separately under the products tab. But other relevant offers are made: we have access to articles, interviews, social media links, and events. The specific tab for events, in fact, offers an event and store locator, which actually featured the game store that I frequent in Muncie. I couldn’t help but geek out again over how useful and supportive this was for local business. Now, we’ve sifted through the business of D&D, but what about the artistry I went on about for two whole paragraphs? Obviously, I’m passionate about this nerdy game and the company that hires people (hey, hopefully me someday!) to write nerdy things for it. But where does that flavor bleed into the website? Well, you’ve seen the art. That’s our first impression when logging onto the site, cracking open a rulebook, or buying one of their novels. But the site also offers some glimpses into the storytelling that accompanies D&D. The Story tab gives us access to the company’s current and past stories—also called modules—that customers can play through. The current story, for instance, is titled Tomb of Annihilation. It sends players through a deadly mountain range, a deadlier rainforest, and an even deadlier tomb to cure a mysterious plague that afflicts their home. Did I mention that D&D is nerdy? But aside from the current story, we also have access to past stories, locations, heroes, villains, and the various inhabitants that populate the world of Dungeons and Dragons. There’s a bit more to the networking and advertising on the website, but the materials available for the fiction and fantasy—the soul of the game—are just as present. I’ve had a unique perspective as I’ve learned about this game/brand. I grew up hearing stories of my dad’s wild adventures on his cousin’s dining room table and writing my own stories about elves and dwarves and magic. Getting into D&D as an adult has also built up my storytelling skills and my appreciation for settings in creative writing, as well as stories that circumvent our expectations. The site is a lot to take in, much like the game itself. But all of these things are integral to the brand—that is, not just selling the brand, but keeping the traditional characteristics of D&D that have lasted since the game’s creation in the 1970s: collaborative storytelling, imagination, and a chance to gather around a table with your nerdy friends and slay ancient evils. I think I've geeked out enough for today.
Until next time! Branding (and trying not to get burned)I hope you like that title. That's a fun little play on words, there. We have fun here on Matt's blog. Lately, I've been trying to get everybody to call me Scoot. Two of my professors are dead set on making it happen for me; they're trying to say the actual word in conversation as much as possible, encouraging me to sign in-class quizzes with that name, and so on. Me being me, I love the attention. But I know in the end that it's just a crazy pipe dream. See, these professors and I (as much as I love them) are still kind of new to each other. They've known me for less than a year, so a new nickname comes with a much smaller challenge than the one faced by my roommates, parents, brother, partner, and doctors. Not to mention, most of these people think that the nickname is silly, or downright stupid. "You sound like a hick," my partner Tasha says. I don't really care, as long as I sound like Scoot. But it doesn't matter. To them, I'll always be Matt. And that's where our story on branding begins. For Morgan Leckie's class (hi again!) we've been asked to put together a logo for our personal brands; in other words, represent ourselves in some kind of artistic fashion, one that captures our personalities, interests, and tastes in one delightful image. Appropriately, I did mine on MS Paint (I see you shuddering--don't @ me). In my defense, I don't think y computer could even handle a more sophisticated program, and I just never got the training other folks may have been exposed to. Here's my best work: It's asymmetrical. Its free vectors don't match up very well. For God's sake, it was made in MS Paint. But it's mine. It's me. That's vaguely what my beard looks like, and those glasses were the closest I could find to my aging tortoiseshell ones. More importantly, those words are very dear to me. When I look at this, and hopefully when other writers do, too, it reminds me to be true to myself in my own work, and also to value it as big work--it reminds me that I can create things that take up space and that matter, and that even if some people are confused by my weird poems and essays and blog posts and logos, at least what I made was honest.
This logo is made up of things I know about myself: I write, I have a beard, I'm weird, I wear glasses. It's full of things about me that are close to myself and others: it's like my name. Even take away the words, take a look at the white space face. I mean, it's not complete, but it's me. That face could be very few people besides Matt Swain. Who's this Scoot guy, anyway? What it all brings me to: there's more than one way to represent myself. I've got my words, I've got my face, but I've got my dreams and beliefs, too. And all three of these things--things that make up my personal brand--go into my logo. Through it I exist and take up space and make weird poems and essays, and whether you choose to call me Matt or Scoot (I will respond to it) it's a part and representation of me and my weird self. This post got a lot more self-affirming than I expected. So I'll leave things on that note. Here's some feel-good music featuring 8-bit martians and a flying guitar. Until next time, guys. Branding, and you! (as in, the way you brand) For this post, I'll be addressing some questions from my ENG 431 professer, Morgan Leckie (hey there!). I'll be sure to keep my answers as traditionally Matt-like as possible, which apparently means absurdist and sarcastic. Despite that, I solemnly swear to take this seriously. What corporation, organization, or political campaign do you want to “re-brand”? There's a kind of funny story to this. I used to use Tumblr really often, particularly throughout my freshman year here at Ball State. One thing I noticed while browsing was that the advertisements for Funyuns were generally just...bad. Then I went to Funyuns' actual Tumblr account and, well, I wish I had a better word than bad, but its simplicity really captures whatever you call this: Make no mistake, I take no issue with the onion-flavored corn starch rings. I've taken a few chance moments in my life to enjoy them, as I'm sure many of my readers have. But I'm going to go out on a limb here and say there's no excuse for this--and furthermore, that the excuse of forced meme marketing. I will say that Funyuns have done some things right. They respond to people very often, and the overarching weird sort of humor works well for their demographic (millennials; hey, I won't deny our tastes). As a company, it seems they keep good relations with their consumers up on social media. It's just the Tumblr itself that I would change, preferably to make it a bit more...palatable. That's a good word. What specific audience do you want to persuade? In a more general sense, and speaking of my own projects, I want to interact most with millennials. I'm often the first person to call out how regressive dividing people into arbitrary groups like generations can be, but I understand how important it is to note how we're all different, and to learn and grow from those differences. I guess the product of my own personal brand would be my writing, particularly poetry and creative nonfiction, as well as the other projects I've got going on. Millennials make sense as my target audience then, because most of my writing and projects are distributed digitally, which is sort of our thing, in a stereotypical sense. Why is this important to you?
I've had a hard time labeling myself recently. I don't know if I have the right to call myself an educator yet, or a writer, even though I've published some work in a few magazines. It can be hard to keep confidence up when I don't always feel that I've achieved enough yet. But knowing my audience, knowing who I look up to and who may look up to me is ultimately really helpful. I know I'm not alone. I can reach out to people who feel just as nervous about the growing and shifting world around them as I do, and we can share the experiences through our work. I think that writing is a bold act of reaching out, and when you know who you're reaching out to, things are much easier. Well, at the very least, they're less lonely. I think that's the note I'll end this post on. Until next time! Selfies, and the Matt who takes them “Remember,” Dad said, “this is how you’re going to represent yourself. People who might hire you, people who you’re just meeting, people who might decide whether you’re getting into a school.” I was in sixth grade. Now, almost ten years later, Mark Zuckerburg owns most if not all of my brain, and laughs maniacally while selling my information to advertisers and hackers on the Dark Web. But also, I have access to a slew of pictures of myself that chronicle my life through its weird, cringe-inducing, and sometimes fun phases. Below is a collection of some of these pictures, which come not only from Facebook, but Twitter and Instagram as well. It’s an exploration of how I’ve chosen to represent myself at various points in my life, and what each photograph says about my life on the internet. I tried to focus specifically on selfies, to keep focused on the artistry and whimsy of that art form. This picture marks my earliest steps into the bizarre, funny, and sometimes cruel world of social media. While it’s not my first Facebook profile picture (a forbidden relic, deleted long ago), you can still pick it apart to learn a great deal about who I was. I’d had my own cell phone for two years, but I still hadn’t mastered the art of the selfie. To fill the mobile phone vacuum, I would use the camera on my parents’ desktop computer (one of the old colossal iMacs from 2008, which has since taken residence in my brother’s storage unit). I took a lot of selfies in this mirror/camera, because I spent a lot of time on my parents’ computer in general. I’d like to say it’s because I was diligently working on homework when I wasn’t at band practice—that’s what the kid in the picture would tell you. The truth is, I spent most of my time browsing YouTube or playing old flash games and blowing off my homework until the last minute. You might not think it from the clean-cut nerd you see, but I’ve always been pretty lazy. I don’t hate many things on Earth, but boy, do I hate this photograph. I’m not actually sure what specific year it was taken, but I know I created this monstrosity when I went through my I-Don’t-Smile -in-Photographs-Because-I’m-Cool phase. Don’t tell me you didn’t have one of these, I know for a fact that you did. Also notice the highlights in my hair. Yikes. This selfie was—I believe—one of my first profile pictures for my Twitter account, started in 2012: @MattSchwain. People still think that’s my name sometimes. It should be noted that this and the previous photo were taken in high school, before I had a smartphone. If I wanted to tweet on the go (I always want to tweet on the go) I had to text through Twitter’s phone service, a number I still have saved on my phone: 40404. I’d think of something funny, slide my phone open, and type away to my little heart’s content. I got caught texting in school pretty often, but most of the time I was tweeting instead of talking to my friends--a little sad, I know. Since I hooked my phone up to the text service, I’ve been positively addicted to Twitter. We're jumping forward in time here, almost five years. Before moving to Muncie for school, I got a smartphone and jumped into the worlds of (now private) Instagram and Snapchat alongside Facebook and Twitter. Eventually, though, I realized that I was in need of a social media makeover. Professionalism is one of the most important traits of a successful educator and writer. I’m sorely lacking in this trait, but still have a passion for writing and educating. So, most appropriately, this cropped selfie was the first profile picture for my “professional” Twitter, @coffeecuppoetry. I was taking a contemporary British literature class in 2016, and I didn’t want my professor and classmates to see the bona fide mess that had become my personal account. So, to keep my private and academic lives separate, I made a Twitter account with the same handle as my poetry Instagram. But, wanting to keep some of my personality in there, I made this my profile picture. I’d rather be myself than make everyone think I’m some kind of serious, practiced person and disappoint them. Besides, my great grandma told me the best people refuse to take themselves seriously. I guess that makes me the second best. Keeping that same weird, self-deprecating sense of humor from my Twitter, I decided to use this picture on my “professional” Instagram, @coffeecuppoetry. See, since 2015, I’ve had this sort of gimmicky thing going where I write poems on coffee cups and post them to that account under the hashtag #pretentiouscoffeecuppoetry. Again, I’ve got a sort of self-deprecating sense of humor. Of course, you could probably tell that from the cup. I know it’s not technically a selfie, but I thought it really captured that specific aspect of my behavior on social media, and how I like to present myself online and in person: snarky, goofy, and weird. Fun fact: those flecks on the mirror are from when I was brushing my teeth and had a coughing fit five minutes prior to taking this photo. The blurry girl to my right is my girlfriend, Tasha, who doesn’t usually pose like that. This is the most recent selfie on my Facebook profile, not my current picture. But like the first one in this series, I think there’s a lot we can learn from this profile picture in particular. More than anything, I think what it can tell you about me is that today I really don’t mind if someone’s perceptions of me are a little negative. I’m not looking my best in this picture; my hair is a hot mess and I’m looking very greasy. Not to mention the mess I made of the mirror. But even though it’s not my best picture, I thought it was funny, and I’d had a really good day with Tasha. I just wanted people to know that much. I think that’s where I’ve made the most progress on social media and in digital literacy—I went from knowing next to nothing and just using Facebook to having two Instagrams, two Twitters, a Snapchat, and that same Facebook page. I learned how to blog. I got a smartphone and never cracked the screen. And now, what matters most to me on all these profiles is that the people I love are there. If anyone’s not a huge fan of my humor, my posts, or me in general, well, the best thing about social media is that you can turn it off. I’m proud of how I’ve presented my personal life alongside my academic and professional life, and how my digital presence reflects my actual self.
In the gratuitously bad Riverdale, the edgy and overbearing Jughead Jones (seriously, who let this show happen?) goes on a rant about how weird he is, how he doesn’t want to fit in, and how he’s comfortable in his own skin. While I detest the show, the character, and even the line, I can't say I've never felt like that before. And as I’ve grown older and more skilled with social media, I’ve learned that I’m happy to represent myself as the strange, sarcastic, kinda funny person that I am. More than anything, when someone's thinking about hiring me, letting me into school, or being my friend, that's what I want them to see. Until next time. Have a good weekend, everybody. My very limited knowledge and experience For this post, I wanted to put together a little timeline of my digital literacy. While doing so, I jumped down a rabbit hole of cringe. I've always been a kind of weird kid, but I don't think I've ever been weirder than 2010 me trying to figure out the internet. Anyway, here's a brief list of my life on the internet: 2010: I join Facebook at age 13. I also get a "girlfriend" (I'm not sure if freshman year really counts) and a new cell phone--not a smartphone, but still one with apps and a cool glowy clock. I happen to have deleted my first profile picture, so here's my oldest one instead. Good luck not reactively reaching into your computer screen and giving me a much-deserved wedgie. 2012: I join Twitter, my personal favorite social media platform. My handle: @MattSchwain. Some people at school didn't realize that's not how you really spell my last name. You could say I had friends, just not many. 2014: After graduating high school, I get a smartphone. My social life explodes, for whatever reason, when I join Instagram and Snapchat, two apps/platforms I still use today. I kept the trend from 2012 alive and dubbed myself @MattSchwain on everything, although my name on most peoples' Snapchats shows up as "matty matt swizz." I consider this a personal victory. 2015: I start this blog! Sort of. I rarely use it, but when I do I have a lot of fun. Initially, it was my teaching portfolio for English 150 with Dr. Lyn Jones, my higher education/general hero (who is my professor again this semester for English 409!). I've actually used this website for several different classes, and after graduation (or maybe just sometime soon) I plan on buying the domain name and giving this site a major overhaul/makeover. Of course, the blog will stay mostly the same, so if you like what you see you need not worry! 2016: I create new Twitter and Instagram accounts for school and "professionalism." My habits of goofing off and being generally really weird (see below) never really went away, and these accounts eventually became the ones I use most. I used the same name for both of them: @coffeecuppoetry, something that I'm still kind of surprised has stuck. I like the name because it has my two favorite things in it. And with that, I think I'll end this blog post. My digital literacy has improved more since 2016, but in less visible ways. Overall, I'm pleased with where I am now, as a communicator and digital citizen. And I know that, since there's much more room for growth, I'll only have more fun reaching out and creating spaces online!
Until next time! |
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