Making a distinction.
While working on this column, I
jotted most of the following onto a piece of scratch paper:Just
a moment ago I copied a short blogpost from one of the blogs I try to follow,
and pasted it into my gmail, saving it as a "draft". And I'm still scratching
my head, asking myself just why I did such a thing. After all, considering that
I do most of my blog reading via Bloglines, there would have been no problem simply
checking it in order to keep it "new", and I'd encounter it whenever
I visit that blog via Bloglines.
Later, I typed that scribbled
note into digital format, and continued to add to it:
There
are undoubtedly a number of reasons, but it seems to me that a central one of
these is related to what I've written in the past about bookmarks - basically,
it's not that we need the bookmark, it's that we need to create some sort of pause
of consideration that helps us relate to the information we've encountered, that
makes it into something that demands our reflection, of thinking with my fingers.
In this particular case, just clicking on "keep new" apparently wouldn't
have done that for me - I had to move it somewhere else.
This
scribbled addition continued, with two bracketed additions. The fact that they
were in brackets tells me that these particular thoughts
were intended as links.
But these pencil on paper notes, after being added
to word-processed notes, became part of a series of thoughts on this subject that
have to stand or fall on their content, rather than on the method by which they
were jotted down. In addition, once this material had become part of my notes,
I was free to play around with them, edit them, delete them, or expand on them.
I continued, for instance, to examine the reaons for using, or not using, different
tools or formats, listing, at least, one additional reason.
The decisions
about where I save something, in what format, on what
drive or server, can, and often does, have meaning for me. Certain items fit particular
tools. At other times, however, the how and where are much less important that
the simple fact that I'm saving something. It's not exactly that we want to save
something (perhaps we want to save something only long enough to show it to someone
else) but that we want to take note of it. We have to do something in order to
stop the flow of information, we have to keep that "something" from
blending into an indistinguishable mass of information. The act of saving is an
act of distinguishing, of drawing a line, of singling out some thing as being
separate, different from others.
Go to: Doing things the hard way.