I've been mulling that question over since he posed it back in the spring, and I keep seeing things pop up in blogs and news stories that relate to it. There was Alice Marwick's excellent essay ('If you don't like it, don't use it. It's that simple.' ORLY?) on the impact of opting out of Facebook when your social network is based there. And Jenna Wortham's NYTimes article on 'The Facebook Resisters' last month.

Alice talked in her article about the concept of "technology refusal," but I've found that there seems to be precious little out there in the way of research on this topic. The term itself is used in the context of other educational technologies in an essay by Steve Hodas called "Technology refusal and the organizational culture of schools" from Rob Kling's 1996 collection Computerization and Controversy, but I can't find much that links that essay with anything related to current social networking sites.

It seems to me there are a lot of interesting research questions in this. What are the reasons that people choose to opt out? Does the opting out tend to be global, or specific to individual systems? (For instance, do people who opt out of Facebook also opt out of Twitter? LinkedIn? Tumblr?) Is this more about personality or cognitive type, or about context and experience? Are these fairly static stances, or changeable? And if the latter, what precipitates the change? What's the impact on an individual who opts out when their social and/or professional network opts in?

In fact, there's so much that's interesting, and so little that seems to be out there, that it's all a little overwhelming. I've started a Zotero collection on the topic of "technology refusal," and would welcome any suggestions for things to add to it. (If there's interest, I'm willing to convert it to a group library that others could add to...)

Anyone know of work currently ongoing in this space? I'd love to talk with others who are exploring it!

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(rkostin on Jan 3, 2012 7:51 PM) Good luck researching this! I'd love to better understand the psyché of social users, many of whom are my clients. I still get a lot of requests to build a "social networking presence" as part of building a new website, even thought the client has no idea what that means. (When that's the case, I usually talk them out of it.) As for me, I've convinced myself that, as an IT professional, people expect me to know something about everything, so I justify the time *I* spend on every popular social network, just so I can be "that guy." Really, I just like to play. LINKEDIN: Maybe part of me doesn't want to be left out. Back when LinkedIn was just getting started, I jumped-in because all the cool kids at RIT were creating accounts there. So I did too. But honestly, I never saw the value of it until years later. And now I boast how I was an early adopter. GOOGLE+: Same thing with Google+. I jumped in early. (Blessed with an invitation, no less!) However, even though I quickly maxed out with the Google+/Facebook overlap, and I haven't logged-in to Google+ in weeks, I'll still hold on to the account ...just in case I need that swagger. FOURSQUARE: I've tried really hard to keep going on Foursquare, but it's wearing me down. Honestly, it only reminds me how much other people have a "real" social life, and I don't. :o) Good luck!

(Erhardt Graeff on Jan 3, 2012 9:45 PM) This exact question came up during our team meeting today at Project Zero, and I agree that this is an important question to start studying. I would particularly likely to see data of account deactivation/deletion mapped out like an information cascade to see how it precipitates over time. Were the early droppers also early adopters? Does the social network propagation of deletion behavior look the same as or different than that of adoption? Methodologically, we would need to determine if we should also count account abandonment alongside deactivation/deletion, especially since that seemed to be the trend during previous social network deaths like Friendster and MySpace.

(Liz Lawley on Jan 3, 2012 10:35 PM) Erhardt, we need to figure out a way to get you to work on this as part of your graduate work. :)

(Jill Walker Rettberg on Jan 4, 2012 2:02 AM) I love that you're blogging again, Liz! I'm determined to get back into blogging, too, for much the same reasons as you. I also find that periods where I'm active blogging are the periods of time where I love my job and get excited about new ideas and connections. For me, the discipline of not only coming across interesting finds but also formulating a blog post with links and some kind of opinion about it all is really important. I guess we've known that blogging works like that for many years, but I don't think I'd really linked it to ENJOYING research before. I've also been interested in all the reports of technology refusal out there. In my class last semester only one of 38 students was not on Facebook, and he had very strong, reasoned ideological arguments for his absence. On the other hand, those of my not-very-digital friends who aren't on Facebook and so forth seem to have very instinctive gut reactions against it, often labelled as a dislike of over-sharing and narcissism, which are certainly criticisms of social media that come up often in the media (at least here in Norway, I'm not even sure if that's a global issue?) I've seen various research on the rejection of technology in general, but never really looked at it. I think "non-adopters" is a frequently used term? Anyway, thanks for blogging - I look forwards to being blogging buddies again :)

These conversations tend to start not with the question "why do people feel the need to talk incessantly," but rather with the question "why do people feel the need to share every detail of their lives on Facebook?" And as someone who does indeed share a lot on Facebook...from Foursquare checkins at the gym to photos of my dog to commentary on social and political issues...I find myself trying to explain it.

A friend asked me recently, in jest, "if a tree falls on a house and no one posts it to facebook,did it happen?" In return, I posted a photo to Facebook of a house crushed by a tree, which kicked off an interesting discussion in the comments, including this from me:

This isn't really about social media, it's about extroverted vs introverted methods of sense-making. I once told my off-the-charts introvert friend Elouise that I often didn't know what I was thinking until I heard myself saying it, which she found truly baffling. For someone like me, Facebook and Twitter and email provide an outlet for that "thinking out loud" that I need to do in order to process ideas. Conversation with real live people is far better, of course, but the nature of my life is such that I'm not able to always have the people I want to talk to physically present. It takes a village to support an extrovert, I suppose, and my village is by necessity virtual rather than physical.

As usual, the process of crafting the words helped me to understand what I was thinking. But I also realized, with some dismay, that I'm now doing most of that thinking out loud on Facebook instead of on this blog. Facebook is quasi-public space for me, but it's not truly public. And more important, it's not truly mine. I don't own my data there, and while "timeline" has made it easier for me to find past posts, nobody's likely to stumble on my discussion of trees and houses through a serendipitous search or link.

I'm not one for new year's resolutions overall, but I do want to start shifting my "thinking out loud" back here to a more public space, rather than sequestering in Facebook's walled garden. I can always share the blog posts to my Facebook feed, but I'll retain ownership of them here, where there's more of a chance for them to reach a more diverse audience, and I know I'll always have access to the archive of my thoughts. And where Facebook's interface encourages short-form sharing, blogging has always been more of a long-form medium for me. I've missed that.

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(miwseshat on Jan 2, 2012 4:30 PM) Very interesting observation, Liz. I have noticed that I tend to blast facebook rather than to write in my journal, but wish it were not so. Do you also manage the list on Facebook that sees the link to your journal entries? Or are they public? I think that the facebook friends lists are very powerful, but for people with a lot of friends the initial filtering is an almost overwhelming proposition. lindac

(rkostin on Jan 2, 2012 4:56 PM) I'm glad you're blogging again. The message is the medium.

(Linda Reinfeld on Jan 2, 2012 10:01 PM) Great you are blogging again. The Emersonian essayist in you needs s place to shine.

(K.G. Schneider on Jan 3, 2012 7:51 AM) I'm particularly with you on the "walled garden" problem. I notice that by dribbling out my life a sentence or two at a time, it saps from the synthesized posts more typical of my pre-FB era. Over this break I had made a conscious decision to blog at least every other week. My blog posts have a theme (an upcoming trip to NZ) but I think it was driven by more than that, if not fully consciously. In any event, our blogs will outlast Facebook (is my guess).

(Liz Lawley on Jan 3, 2012 12:46 PM) Our blogs have already outlasted its predecessors. And even if they don't outlast Facebook, they'll be more accessible outside of it.

(Liz Lawley on Jan 3, 2012 12:48 PM) Linda, I don't use Facebook lists at all. I think they provide a false sense of security, both because Facebook shifts their settings so often, and because there are "loopholes" in visibility (as when someone tags another user in a comment or post). But my blog has always been a very public space, not a private journal.

(rachelcunliffe on Jan 4, 2012 5:59 PM) Hi Liz, I discovered your blog via Jill's link to this post - I have been thinking this issue over quite a lot, you may find this blog post I wrote about it helpful? http://www.cre8d-design.com/2010/10/the-lifespan-and-depth-of-tweets-vs-blog-posts/ Rachel

I thought I'd share some of the classroom hacks I'm using this fall in my freshman survey class "Introduction to Interactive Media," since they're all intended to make exactly those kinds of changes in the flow of information and knowledge.

First, I've enabled the live chat function in our campus courseware (Desire2Learn). It's a very rudimentary chat system, but I encourage my students to use it during class to ask questions of each other, and of the TAs and other instructors who are also in the chat. I spend a good bit of time in the first lecture talking about appropriate behavior in real-time chat, and reminding them that (a) everything they type is associated with their RIT username, and thus is not really anonymous, and (b) the chats are archived and I do go back and read through them from time to time. This year, I ended the list of caveats with a simple admonition..."C'mon, just don't troll the class chat!" Still, having some "adult supervision" seems to make a big difference in the overall tone.

Why real-time chat? If you've been reading my blog for a while, you'll know that I've always been a big fan of conference backchannels, and this was a way to bring some of those benefits into the classroom. This class is one of the few I teach that includes a large lecture (60-90 students), and the chat encourages them to interact with each other as well as with me.

Second, in my studio sessions (30 students each), I've divided the students into groups of 5-6 and required them to use Google Docs for collaborative note-taking. RIT has its own Google Apps installation, and during our first studio session I break them up into groups, and walk them through the process of creating a docs collection, adding all the group members to it, and adding me, my TA, and my grader. I then tell them that their groups are responsible for taking notes at every class--lecture and studio--but that it's up to them how they want to divide up the work. During the quarter I'll occasionally review what they have, and will occasionally add comments or corrections; my grader will also check regularly to see if there are groups that aren't getting notes up, or whose notes are really weak, so that he can give me a heads up to review them. At the end of the quarter, I'll assign a grade for the notes, and then adjust that grade up or down based on a peer evaluation they'll do of their group members.

There are a number of good things that come out of this hack. They learn how to use collaborative editing tools, something that will be valuable to them in many project contexts. They learn how to work with a group to divide up responsibility. They have a set of notes they can rely on if they miss class, as well as when they have to work on their final project (a poster, presentation, or video detailing 20 things they learned in the course). And I have the ability to see just what they're taking away from my classes, which provides an invaluable feedback loop--far better and more constructive than any end-of-quarter evaluation form.

Third, instead of textbooks (all of our readings are online), I have students buy the iClicker that we've standardized on at RIT for in-class polling. But instead of using this for multiple-choice quizzing, I use this for things like "Choose Your Own Lecture," in which students pick which path I take through the lecture material, or for polling the students on what they thought about a required reading or video, or for letting them vote on whether we should end class early on a beautiful day and go outside. It's not perfect, but it's a way to discourage passivity.

--

All of these hacks are still being refined--I've made significant changes from how I used them last year, and I'm sure this year will result in more modifications. But it's already clear to me that they're improving classroom engagement--and, I hope, student learning.

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"I celebrate myself, and sing myself."

Such powerful words. Most of us don't do nearly enough of this. We're told not to, by people and and culture and custom. We encourage humility, discourage boasting (particularly in women, but that's another post).

But one can have both humility and self-love, and the latter is too often missing--or at least it has been for me.

Today marks the end of a year of self-transformation for me, and this week I'm trying hard to celebrate myself, to sing myself, to remind myself of my intrinsic value.

On August 4th of 2010, a few days after returning from a wonderful road trip with Alex, I stepped on my relatively new Withings scale, and was shocked to see the number: 144 pounds. I hadn't weighed that much since I was pregnant with Alex. It had happened gradually, but had finally reached a point where I realized I was really unhappy with my body. Not just the way it looked, but the way it felt. I made a decision that day to make some real changes in the way I cared for myself physically. I started getting to the gym on a regular basis, and changed the kinds of foods I kept in the house. I knew that for these changes to matter, they had to be sustainable. I couldn't cut out all carbs, for instance, because it would make me miserable and I'd eventually give up.

So, how'd that work out? Here's a graph showing what happened:

The objective I set for myself was 110 pounds (that's the white line near the bottom). I hit that in May of this year, and have stayed there since then, with minor (and normal) fluctuations. Lately, as I've added more weight training into my workout routine, my weight has crept up by a pound or two, but my lean mass has gone up right along with it. (The place in the middle where the color changes is the point where I crossed over from an unhealthy weight for my height and age to a healthy one.)

I've been off my antidepressants for a year now, as well, and wanting to stay off them keeps me going back to the gym 4-5x/week. I know my mental health history means that the exercise may not always be enough on its own, but for now it's doing the trick, and I'm happy not to have to deal with the expense or the side effects of the medication.

Other benefits? My food budget has dropped quite a bit, since I prepare more foods myself rather than grabbing fast food on the way home. My kids are getting healthier meals and developing better eating habits. I've discovered the joy of shopping at the Rochester Public Market. My physical and mental energy levels are the highest they've been in a very long time. My cholesterol, which was dangerously high, has dropped into a very healthy range.

I honestly don't know what changed for me a year ago, and made it possible for me to successfully change my lifetime of bad eating and exercise habits, but I'm grateful that I did, and that everything I've done to reach this point seems easily sustainable moving forward.

When I went to see my doctor for an annual checkup last month, he congratulated me on "taking charge of my body," and that resonated for me. This week I'm splurging a bit on little luxuries to celebrate my physical self--a pedicure, some new clothes, things like that. But the real reward is being able to look at myself in the mirror and be proud of what I see.

No matter how many hours I spend at the gym, it won't make me 20-something or long-legged. But I'm okay with that. Being twenty-something wasn't all that great, as I recall. Been there, done that, glad I don't have to do it again. This 49-year-old body is the one I've got, and my goal now is to care for it well. My success in doing that this year is indeed worth celebrating.

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Yesterday afternoon, while we were driving home, Gerald looked at me and said "green is gold." And indeed, it finally is. So here's the ninth installation of my annual spring-welcoming poem posting.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

—Robert Frost

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For next year's event, I fully intend to have Moo cards printed up with the title "conference curator" on them. :)

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I've been turning that over in my head all day, and have come to the conclusion that (a) she was right about me being a fundamentally grateful person, and (b) I'm very grateful to have gratitude be one of my defining characteristics.

When people start in 12-step programs, one thing their sponsor often asks them to do is to make a gratitude list. Even if the world seems to be crashing down around you, it's usually possible to find something to be grateful for--the hot cup of coffee you're sipping, a hug from a child, the song that made you want to get up and dance, the way the light and shadow looks in the last moments of a sunset. The act of writing those things down--or speaking them aloud to another person--shifts your focus in a profound way. If you do it on a regular basis, it can fundamentally change the way you see your life (and yourself).

One of yesterday's speakers quoted Sheryl Crow's song Soak Up The Sun in his talk: "It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got." That really resonated with me, and this morning's conversation helped me to realize why.

Every year running this event takes everything out of me. I go into it a giant bundle of stress and worry. But every year I leave feeling ridiculously happy and energized. I've had my mind stretched by brilliant people who said things that informed and inspired me. I've connected people who I know will go on to do great things together. And I've had a chance to work and play with some of the people I love and respect most in the world. That's what I want, it's what I've got, and it's a pretty damn good reason to be grateful.

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(Gina Trapani on Jan 15, 2011 4:30 PM) Being a fundamentally grateful person is spiritual thing, so it sounds like you're doing well with the triad you mentioned in your Jan 2 post. Anil tells me the symposium was amazing--congratulations on putting on a killer event.

(John Donation on Apr 5, 2011 6:36 PM) Acting your way into healthy thoughts and feelings. Simple formula but so darn neglected by most of us.

But I feel as though there are three juggling balls that I'm always trying to keep in the air...my physical well-being, my intellectual well-being, and my spiritual well-being. And no matter how much I try, I seem only able to to keep two of them moving at the same time--the third invevitably ends up on the floor.

For the past seven years, it's been the physical well-being that's suffered as the other two have flourished. This year, it's been the spiritual that keeps escaping my grasp, while the physical and intellectual have soared.

I'm not much of a fan of new year's resolutions, but I do hope that this year I can begin bringing the three into balance.

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I'd found the B&B, AliciaZzz, on TripAdvisor. While I had the address, it was still a little hard to spot--it's on the second floor of a building, with a very unobtrusive sign and an unmarked door. You have to find the B&B name on the list of doorbells and ring it to be let in. Once I'd located it and made my way up, however, I was delighted. Koldo, the owner, was gracious and helpful, the room was bright and clean and well-appointed, and the location was fabulous. (One warning: I'd asked in advance if they took American Express, and they said yes--but when I arrived, it turned out they didn't, and I had to use my debit card to pay for the room.)

I dropped off my things, changed from my not-so-practical but oh-so-stylish stiletto-heeled boots into something better suited to walking, and immediately headed out to explore the area. Koldo had mentioned a funicular railroad that would take me up the mountain and give me panoramic views of the city, which sounded irresistable. To get there, I walked along the riverfront, which took me past a gorgeous old church...

the historic Ayuntamiento de Bilbao...

and beautiful views of the cityscape along the river...

When I finally reached the funicular station, I realized I was awfully hungry, so I stopped at a little market and bought some fresh bread and Coca Cola Light that I ate while watching children play in the plaza. Then I bought my ticket for the funicular--a whopping €.90--and entered the front car.

Since the car had been mostly empty coming down, I figured it would be going up as well, and I entered the front car expecting to have it to myself. Much to my surprise, it quickly filled up with ten-year-old boys carrying backpacks and chattering excitedly in Spanish. I'd apparently arrived just as a nearby school was letting out, and these boys all lived at the top of the mountain. It was really fun to listen to them--I couldn't understand a word, so instead was able to enjoy the energy and body language.

At the top of the mountain, the boys scattered off to their respective homes, and I found myself on the edge of a lovely park overlooking the city.

I spent an hour in the park, admiring the view, the happy couples--from teens to octogenarians--walking its paths, and the way the light illuminated both the sculptures and the people.

(There are many more photos from the park in my Flickr photo set from that first day.)

I took the funicular back down once the sun had dropped below the mountains on the western side of the city. Looking to my right along the river, I saw that the Guggenheim wasn't far away, and decided to walk in that direction for a few minutes.

On my way, I passed the spectacular Pasarela Zubizuri, a beautiful footbridge designed by architect Santiago Calatrava.

The weather was so beautiful, and the riverside path so inviting, that I decided to walk back to the hotel, change into my running gear, and go for a run up to the Guggenheim and back. Unfortunately, my calf started bothering me a bit (I blame the morning spent in those stiletto heels...), so I ended up walking about half of the time. I still managed to get some spectacular photos along the way:

Once I'd finished my run there was an SMS waiting for me from Maria, who suggested that we meet for dinner at the metro stop near my hotel (Casco Viejo) at 9:30pm. I took a long shower, checked some email, and then headed out to meet her.

The plaza next to the metro stop was filled with cafes and people, and once Maria arrived and we started exploring the old quarter, it was clear that the entire area of the city was jam-packed with cafes and bars each of them filled with people.

We ended up at the Plaza Nueva, a lovely square next to my B&B. In the center of the square were dozens of kids, from toddlers through teens, all playing, laughing and chasing each other. Parents were stationed all around the edges, blending with the crowds in the cafes, drinking wine and eating the pintxos that Basque establishments are famous for.

Since Maria doesn't eat a lot of meat, and I don't eat a lot of veggies, we wanted to find a place that had pintxos we both could enjoy. Given the crowds, it was hard in many of the establishments to see what they had out on the bar, and neither of us knew enough Spanish to be able to ask questions about ingredients. We finally settled on a place that Koldo had recommended, Gure Toki, where the food looked delicious, and the bartender spoke English. A plate of seven pintxos, a glass of Rioja for me and a glass of beer for Maria set us back a total of only €17, which felt like a bargain! We took our food out to the plaza, and sat at an outdoor table so we could enjoy the warm evening and the crowds in the plaza.

By midnight the full day had caught up with both of us, and we said goodnight and headed back to our respective hotels, with promises to stay in touch--both personally and professional, as Maria's doing fabulous work with designing games that involve VR and AR technology.

All in all, it was a spectacular day.

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The CARVI conference was unlike anything I've attended before. It began with a series of political speakers, praising the innovations coming out of the research organizations that sponsored the event, after which a number of conservatively-dressed men and women donned 3-D glasses and stood around television sets looking very impressed.

After that, we moved to another room and the series of symposium talks began. Each speaker was scheduled for 20 minutes, with no time in between, which meant that it didn't take long before we were an hour over schedule. My 11:20 talk turned into a 12:30 talk, after which there were still several hours of presentations to go before lunch. This is apparently quite common in Europe--and especially Spain--but my blood sugar suffered mightily as the day wore on.

Despite my growing hunger, I really enjoyed the talks by Narcis Parés Burgués from Barcelona ("Interactive Playgrounds: the Interactive Slide, a Practical Example") and Maria Roussou from Athens (The Challenge of developing virtual reality serious games).

When we finally did eat lunch at 3pm, it was primarily passed appetizers (tapas-style, or "pintxos" as they're called in the Basque region), and lots of wine. I was quite sure after that lunch I'd have a hard time staying awake, but I was more than pleasantly surprised by the post-lunch speakers, who included Matt Oughton from Vicon, demonstrating their amazing motion capture system, and Brent Strong from Disney Imagineering, who gave a spectacular talk about the design process behind The Sum of All Thrills ride at Epcot.

The symposium events wrapped up at 7:30pm, at which point they returned us to the hotel (a 20-minute bus ride), and told us that there'd be a bus to take us to a speaker dinner at 9:00. I knew there was no way I'd make it through that, so I begged off and got some sleep.

The next morning the bus picked us up just after daybreak again, and I returned to the conference for a few hours of presentations on virtual reality engineering. At 1pm, a taxi took five of us back to the Bilbao airport--but this time, at least, we had a minivan! I sat next to Maria Roussou, who, it turned out, was also planning on spending a night in Bilbao. We hit it off famously, chatted the whole way to the airport, and decided to have dinner together later that night.

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I took an airport shuttle into the city, not realizing that I could have easily taken the Underground--that's what I get for not doing my homework before the trip. The van dropped me off a block from my friend Alice's office, where I stopped in to get the keys to her flat. She was in meetings, so I headed back out, splurging on a taxi so I wouldn't have to wrestle my suitcase through the rain. I enjoyed every minute of the ride, watching the streets of the city through the rain-blurred window.

Since my hosts weren't planning to be home 'til 8, I decided to attend the opening reception for Internet Week Europe, to which I'd received an invitation. It was an easy tube ride from the Old Street station near the flat to the Covent Garden stop, and a short walk from there to the nearby Hospital Club.

I'm so accustomed to attending tech events that I simply assumed there'd be familiar faces at this one, and it was a bit of a shock to realize that there weren't any. That turned out to be for the best, really, since my travel-addled brain wasn't really up for small talk. I settled myself in a relatively quiet corner with a passionfruit martini, and took full advantage of the very delicious appetizers that kept being brought by for me to sample--little gourmet versions of traditional British fare, like bangers and mash, and yorkshire pudding.

Once I'd eaten my fill, I simply left, and headed back to spend a lovely evening catching up with Alice and getting to know her daughter Poesy (Cory, alas, was in the US while I was in the UK).

On Tuesday I woke up surprisingly early, and headed off to the "official" hotel for the AdAge conference I was speaking at, The Montague on the Gardens. (While I'm being reimbursed for my travel costs, it was a little pricey for me to front the money for two nights there...) I dropped my bags, and headed to the British Library, where I browsed through the historical documents room (the Magna Carta! yowza!) and had a nice lunch in the cafe.

By then I was exhausted, the weather was still cold and rainy, and I decided to simply hole up in my room for the rest of the day. It was a lovely room, though a little small...

But then I looked out the window, and realized that I was literally across the street from the British Museum...and there was no way I could resist that lure. Three hours later, as the museum closed it doors, I only wished I'd had more time. From the Magna Carta in the morning to the Rosetta Stone and Cleopatra's Mummy in the afternoon. Not a bad day, all in all!

Wednesday morning I packed up all my things (again; I got good at that on this trip) and headed to the Creativity & Technology conference venue. I've never spoken at an AdAge event before, and I have to say I was mightily impressed. They made me feel instantly welcome, the event ran like clockwork (in no small part due to the amazing work of David Teicher and Matt Kinsey, who'd handled all of the arrangements for my visit), and the other speakers were truly wonderful. I was very glad to have had the chance to participate--and I had a chance to meet a number of people I really enjoyed, including one of the brilliant minds behind the "man your man could smell like" campaign.

A car picked me up at lunchtime, and ferried me off to the airport, so I could head to Spain for the next part of my European adventure. I wish I'd had more time in London, but I felt as though I'd used what I had well...

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