Early last August I came across an article by Clive Thompson on how constant-contact media (ex. Twitter) creates “social proprioception,” or a sixth sense, giving “a group of people a sense of itself, making possible weird, fascinating feats of coordination.” The idea resonated with me. I had an overwhelming feeling that there was some sort of connection between Thompson’s observations of social media and my own observations of the digital communities I frequented web editing for Venture Publishing’s magazines.

In the days that followed, the experience served as inspiration for a pitch I made to an editor at Unlimited. The idea was to write a humorous take on digital communication for our readers. What I ended up writing was a 546-word equation employing pure mathematics to map the evolution of communication. No joke.

I finished it at 4 am, and sat back dumbstruck by the realization that after leaving my academic studies in anthropology behind 10 years ago, I had come full-circle to the study of culture. This time, instead of studying ethnographies of the Pacific Islands and Latin America, I was looking at the shifting landscape of magazine journalism, Web 2.0 networks and the evolution of print.

And so, I have recently left Venture to pursue research about digital media and the evolution of publishing. I will be working toward a master’s of digital anthropology within the University College of London’s anthropology department. This new anthropology stream focuses on technology and culture — lessons and observations of which I’ll be sharing with you here on occasion as a guest blogger.

Special thanks goes to boss lady Ruth Kelly for giving me a job instead of calling the police when I refused to take ‘No.’ for an answer, digital queen Joyce Byrne for her mentorship and not laughing (or looking concerned) when I thought RSS stood for my initials, web and systems architect Gunnar Blodgett who taught me the same things (over and over again), editor Craille for being that sparkly something good each day (and more than a few evenings and weekends), and Malcolm Brown who from day one was a huge support and my #1 web ally (some people get it, some people don’t) and founding editor Dan Rubinstein for his support and kind words. And of course, Kent Bruyneel. Without him, I wouldn’t have stayed up late one night and written a theory that has now led me to exactly where I am supposed to be.

***

Sometimes it seems like our career trajectories take us to strange places and that we don’t always get the jobs we apply for. Cases in point: I wanted to be a hostess; I became an apprentice master chef. I wanted to work for the UN; I ended up teaching English in Taiwan and running backpacker hostels in Australia. I applied to be a managing editor; I was offered a web editing position instead.

That last one, landing this gig, was a year ago. At first it was eight websites, me and Gunnar and a camcorder. Now, a year later, Venture Publishing (which produces Unlimited) has expanded our portfolio of sites (including yours truly and WILL) and we’re making history by being up for an award at this year’s inaugural Canadian Online Publishing Awards thanks to a whole bunch of dedicated Venturites (besides those already noted, special mention goes to Kim Larson, Scott Messenger, Zoe Morris, Kelly Sysak and Daska Davis).

If there is any lesson to be learned, any business-savvy you might find applicable from my experience it would be the meaning behind the words in this postcard, given to me by my mentor Ron:

Those words have seen me through a lot – perfecting the creation of cold avocado soup with deep fried basil (which is disgusting by the way), fixing industrial-sized washers and dryers that have gone on the blink in the middle of the Australian outback, learning not to use toxic paint with toddlers during arts and crafts hour, navigating magazines online. Things like that.

The meaning behind those words are an uncanny match to the theme and title of my favourite issue of UL — the Comings & Goings issue, which said stuff like this:

“What are plans anyway? What are they but vague ideas we have of ourselves? For some of us it is clear: attach yourself to a profession like a stamp that addresses the envelope of your existence for the outside world. I am an accountant, one says. An editor, says another.

These are jobs though, not identities; I now understand the difference…. Coming and going is the process of discovering who you are and who you could be.

Kerouac [said] that the noble thing his beat generation could do was move. Maybe the millennial generation can find nobility and its identity in coming and going, too. Like finishing that story, when you come and go, you acquire new elements of yourself, and after time and practice, you can enlist them in the building of who you want to be. Wherever you are.”
–
Rachel Sarah Singh