I like making videos waaaaaaay too much.

Okey dokey folksies, here is a video hopefully depicting what I'm trying to get across on this blog. I hope you enjoy watching it as much as I did making it.

You can check out the videos which had to be cut down to be squeezed into this one hither and yon.

Bacteria, fungus, and monsters, oh my!

One of my favorite parts of Frankenstein is the fact that you can't really tell who the antagonist is. Both Frankenstein and his monster did and said things that make them monsterous in their own ways, if not equally monsterous. I know the analogy isn't perfect, but let's think of copyright as Frankenstein, and creative commons as his creation.

Many people see Frankenstein as the monster. He abandoned and rejected his creation, and it turned on him like he probably deserved. But I like to think back to when he was feverishly working. He gave up sleep, food, and other comforts, obsessively working on this project. It was supposed to be something that would change the world. Copyright is like this. They are creators in their own right, creators who are trying to protect people's content from being misused, "trying" being the key word. They are seen as a monster in their own right, the one that cracks down, stifles creative freedom, and keeps everything in the box. Because of these safety bars, copyright inadvertently created a monster made up of, let's say, parts from a couple of different bodies: pirating, stealing, etc., and creative commons.  

Creative commons is great. It creates a public sharing forum that allows creativity to blossom in ways it couldn't before. But there's a shadow cast by things that shine.

Let's think in laboratory terms. (I mean, I got an A in Bio 100, right?)

Petri dish = the internet.
Agar = Creative Commons.

Stuff that grows = Content created.

 Let's say we happen to get a sample of a wide variety of bacteria-like things (maybe we swabbed my little brother' pockets or something, who knows what he keeps in there), and we stick it in the agar and let it incubate. We check on it, and we have some pretty purple spots and some green and yellow and a big blotch of white mold. It looks pretty cool, so we stick it back in the incubator for a little longer.

When we pull it out, we realize that we have a huge, dangerous blot of some fungus that is not only deadly to humans, but is feeding off the benign bacteria that were just chillin' in the petri dish. Do you kinda see where I'm going with this? 

While creative commons gives a better ability to create, these creations can sometimes get out of our control. On the other hand, while copyright gives us the ability to control, many think that it stifles creativity. So, who's the real monster?

"In the beginning...", Sam created a minipaper.

This picture is to get your attention. 

Some people like to think that Frankenstein's monster didn't disappear and achieve his own end. In fact, you can still feel his presence everywhere, from social media to cereal boxes and the musical stage. Similar to Frankenstein's monster, what we create and put on the internet can often take a life of it's own. The internet could be compared to a laboratory. Everyone in it is tinkering in the corners of the room, taking bits and pieces of each other's ideas and sometimes setting their creations loose to see what kind of response it receives. In artistic expression, even though someone might be certifiably insane, their creation can still be appreciated as art. The internet is being used as an outlet of expression in ways that no one had ever dreamed possible. How it is that we are supposed to appreciate those things created on the internet?

We can appreciate creations of others, especially on the internet by how relatable they are to ourselves, and through the creation's applicability to a greater audience.

Social Lairtion

Proof.
Take a look at that word for a few seconds. Am I the only one that thinks that's a ridiculous word to use for the information that could spare an innocent's life, validate someone's life work, or bring a criminal to justice? It sounds wimpy and fairy-like!
Try this instead: Lairtion (lair-shun).

Say it in a deep, commanding voice. Now say it the same way with some expressive eyebrow movement. It's much better, isn't it? I decided to validate my new word using social proof.  Social proof is what I like to think of as shaping and reinforcing your ideas based on what other people have said on your topic and about your ideas. Result: My roommates thought lairtion was dumb, and that proof works just fine. Dramatic sigh.

Now, this was an extremely roundabout way to getting to the social proof I will be using to validate my ideas pertaining to creativity and Frankenstein. I've been emailing and searching like a fiend, and I hope that I will be able to get some feedback from those people I have contacted.

Act One: The first people I asked to take a look at my ideas on my blog were my mom and my grandma. Of course, they both said nice things about it and how cool it was that I was venturing into the blogosphere. Then was a big step: posting it on Facebook. I'm not going to lie, I was terrified. But I suppose that my fears were in vain, because no one said anything about it. At all. Not even a single "like". Okay, it's cool, it's cool. I decided to move out of my personal sphere and try contacting those enthusiasts and experts that could give me some really solid feedback on my ideas (if only they'd reply!).

Frankensources!

I've never smelled frankincense. But I bet it doesn't smell better than sweet victory! Specifically, this one. Here are some of the oh-so-scholarly things I've been reading in order to back up my "tweethis" (a thesis statement in 140 characters, give or take). As Captain Walden (perhaps) once said, "We have our heading". Okay, I'm pretty sure Jack Sparrow said that.
Anyway, here are the lines I've been thinking along.

Tweethis: What we create and put on the internet can often take on a life of it's own, like #Frankenstein's monster. The thing we wonder is whether our creations are inherently good or inherently destructive.

God said, "Let there be light", and then there was...a blog post.

"Mary Shelley's Frankenstein: Creation, Frustration, Fragmentation, Abomination" by Devon Anderson of Brown University, has some thought-provoking questions. I sought to answer a few of them below. Click here to see what he wrote.

Q: "Are acts of creation inherently fragmenting? Does the creator always become what he or she creates?"

A: My first gut response to these questions is no. Art, literature, etc, can be created without being emotionally attached to it. "A work of art in no way resembles the man who made it or the method by which it was made;" When I was in 8th grade, I wrote a sad, angry poem, speaking to a boy that had slighted me (cute, eh?). In reality, no boy had hurt my feelings other than maybe pushing me off a swing, but the poem was fun to write. My loving parents were concerned about the dark nature of the poem, and that's when I realized that when writing, you can portray yourself in whatever way you wish. If we apply this to online creation, we see many places where this is true. People create avatars, profiles, and entire alternate realities pretending to be a different person. Recently I came across a website that is the IM conversations between a man and his cat. The possibilities of creations living lives separate from that of their creators are certainly great.

More scary stuff.

It is hard sometimes to put content on the internet. As they tell you in all those internet safety lessons, once something is on the internet, it's there FOREVER. And people may like it (i.e., your friend that gets your jokes and your mom/grandma), or they may send you hate comments for as long as it's posted. But that's the thing about the internet. It isn't really a place for only passive consuming. The ability to create and share instantaneously is an opportunity unique to our day and age. So why not take advantage of it? Answer: IT'S SCARY.