I've been kind of reeling in dissertation depression lately, so my apologies for not updating more frequently. I'm in the weird stage where I'm dreading all the work I need to do so much that I'm not accomplishing anything. It sounds bad, but that leads to the "Oh-crap!-I-have-to-get-this-done-no-matter-what!" stage where I usually do my best work. Yeah, it's screwed up process, but it works for me.
Anyway, I don't know why I'm apologizing because it's not like I have a huge following here. I'm not throwing a pity party. It is what it is, but it's made me question why I'm even blogging at all. Combine that with the studies I'm searching through for my dissertation, and I feel sometimes like I'm trying to catch lightning in a bottle. Can I really boil down the reasons why someone posts on a blog or submits a story to CNN's iReport in one mathematical model? Can I even add insight into something that just seems to happen on its own? Even if I do find something, what's the point? Can you really do anything to foster the Stephenie Meyers of the world?
Yes, I did call upon the name of the Twilight goddess because I think she's a good example of what I'm researching. My wife told me she just read an interview with the stay-at-home mom in which she described her early writing process. She tells Vogue she often wrote after her kids went to bed and sometimes with a child on her lap. She never showed her writing to anyone - not even her husband - beyond one of of her sisters, who finally convinced her to send it to publishers. A $750,000 book deal later and the rest is history of course. But while I'm sure she doesn't mind the dump truck full of money she now receives, it doesn't seem like that was her ultimate goal.

"I had always told myself stories my whole life and assumed that everyone does," Meyer says.

She turned to writing because it allowed her to get those stories out of her head.

"I used to paint, and I won a few watercolor contests, but I could never get it to look exactly like it did in my head. But with writing, I discovered I could get it to look exactly like it did in my head."

In other words, she's saying she writes because it's a need. She doesn't write for reward or praise or admiration. She writes because there is value in the activity itself.
George Orwell, the author of 1984 and Animal Farm, puts it a bit differently, but I think he agrees.

All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

If Orwell is right and even the writer him or herself can't understand the demon that compels them, why am I even trying? If I can't even understand my own motivations (or lack of motivation, most of the time) how can I attempt to find it in others? Is contributing to an online news site such an individual act that it can be understood only in terms of the person? Or can news organizations actually do something that will make their readers more likely to contribute?
I put a lot of faith in that last question because I truly believe they can, and I think they need to. The capabilities of the Internet make connecting with audiences easier than ever, and the mission of journalism has always been to bring people together. News organizations lost sight of this somewhere, and it has taken the Internet and dwindling revenues to pull them back.
The key to making those connections and encouraging contributions lies within the intrinsic motivations for writing Meyer and Orwell uphold. The media need to do a better job at making what they have to offer valuable in itself. Information cannot be valuable only because of what you can do with it or what you can talk about with others.
Personally, I need to do a better job writing to satisfy my own personal demons, one of which will always be journalism. No matter how many times they cover the Octo-Mom or Oscar fashions, I believe in the democratic potential of the news media. I believe a good story can make a difference. I know the media won't always be perfect, and that's why they need people like me to remind them once in a while.

In the last couple of weeks, I've gained a greater understanding of the imposing challenge that faces the news media as they adapt to the online landscape. No, I didn't complete a vast research project or pull a respected group of professionals into my classes remotely. No, I started teaching the large introductory journalism course at the University of Missouri once again, and I've found myself scrambling to get as many of the 230 students involved as possible. And frankly, like the media, I'm throwing a bunch of stuff at the wall to see what sticks.

At a university, especially when you are teaching a big class of millenials, it's no longer enough just to talk. A fancy Powerpoint isn't enough either. Before each lecture, I find myself scouring the Internet for as many examples as I can hoping to find something that will make concepts such as truth, verification and journalism real. I'm also hoping to be entertaining enough to keep the students off their Facebook pages. I like using short video and audio clips, even if I have to download them from YouTube, because it breaks up the monotony of my voice and it puts the fancy project hanging from the ceiling to good use, even if the videos are sometimes too dark. But I also know how I learn, and I'll remember a film clip more than a collection of static slides, especially if I understand how the clip relates to the big picture.

Fancy videos aren't enough. What I teach, and really what I'm supposed to teach, isn't black and white. The criteria for news doesn't stop at conflict, proximity, prominence, timeliness, impact and novelty. If I learned anything as a reporter and editor, it's that each individual journalist has to come up with his or her own definition of news and be able to justify it to an audience.

To help students reason through dilemmas such as these, I try to encourage as much discussion as possible. I try to ask questions and wait through the awkward silences until someone answers. But I know that not everyone will speak in class, and I know that technology can really help. So I feel like I'm constantly directing students to our class web site to discuss on our message boards. This semester, I followed a colleague's lead and created a Twitter account for the class. So far, I think this has been wildly successful. More than 60 % of the class has signed up to follow the feed and I get scores of great responses every class period.

My dilemma now is what do I do with all these responses. My poor TAs have already had to endure my attempts at involving them as screeners twice with no advance warning or preparation.

These efforts are merely scratching the surface of how technology can help me teach. I could create narrated video slideshows and upload them to iTunes for students to download. I could add require them to visit a list of Web sites each week instead of reading from a textbook. I could even use the dreaded clickers for instant opinion polls.

Before I get too out of control and even as I try to manage what I'm already doing, I have to ask myself why I'm doing it. Am I using some of these things just because I can? Or do I have an educational goal in mind, as Shakespeare would say, "a method to my madness"?

News organizations should ask themselves the same questions as they explore the possibilities of news in the 21st century. I chuckle to myself when I hear that newspapers are hiring more videographers than reporters because I wonder if anyone in the newsroom will even know what to do with their videos. Specifically, I think of the Roanoke Times Web site, which, at one time, featured a daily newscast from the Web team. In academia, we loved it because it was innovative if a bit amateurish, but it barely lasted a year. Now the paper has turned its video over to the tried and true talking heads, that aren't nearly as interesting as the plucky interns were.

I wish I had a good answer for both teachers and news professionals, but I don't. That's kind of my point in writing this. But I can only hope that through my experimentation, I can come up with some possibilities. Twitter definitely shows promise because it's so easy to comment with your cell phone.

On the news side, I hope that organizations will continue to experiment as well and be willing to share their triumphs and failures with the rest of us.

I'm dealing with a serious problem, and I hope you can help. I call it techno-envy, and it's a debilitating condition. You see, when I'm on a flight to Oklahoma and the guy next to me whips out his iPhone and tells me all he uses it for is text messaging, I get a little nutty. When friends buy $1,500 laptops just to sit on their desk at home, I want to steal things. I know with that technology at my fingertips, I could do so much more. It's really something I know I need to get over, and last week I learned why. At a conference where some of the brightest technological minds collaborated to design the future of news, I realized it's pointless to use technology just because you can. The best technology is the one that people will decided to use on their own and adapt to their own purposes.

Last week, I was lucky to participate in the Reynolds Journalism Institute Collaboratory Talkfest. News professionals and academics from across the country converged on Columbia, Mo. to discuss the future of news. We had an engaging and productive encounter. I moderated sessions on using the Internet to build communities, and I was continually impressed with the ideas participants came up with. I added a couple more blogs to the blog roll based on people I met and people whose ideas I liked including Amy Gahran, Jane Stevens, Brian Boyer, and Matt Thompson.

I even had the opportunity as I explained on the side and through my Facebook status to liveblog about the experience. That was the first time I have ever done something like that, and I can't say I enjoyed it. Sometimes, I felt so focused on adding insightful commentary to the liveblog that I missed out on what was really being said. I don't think I was alone. There were more open laptops in our conference room than at a Circuit City closeout sale, and a couple of people wondered whether anyone was really listening.

In all honesty, I'm sure people were. Most are probably a lot more capable of multi-tasking than I am becasue I'm constantly distracted by my e-mail and ESPN. (I've checked my e-mail three times since I started writing). But the conference made me question one big assumption I have about the future of news. I'm guilty in assuming that if you put powerful technology in people's hands, they'll use it and use it for good.

The truth is that people will use technolgy they find useful and they'll use it however they want. Engineers understand that their products are often used in tons of ways they never intended, and they don't care as long as their products are being used. Media theorist Everett Rogers even developed a theory to explain why some products are adopted while others are not, that says much the same thing. In other words, I should know better.

But it's as easy to get caught up in the potential of technology as it is to get distracted by e-mail. If we are serious about helping the news industry survive the transition and thrive in the future the Internet holds, we need to help professionals understand not just what technology offers, but how people will really use it.

For example, I study I have wanted to undertake for a long time would examine the feasibility of using the iPod as a classroom tool. Professors have long considered uploading their lectures as podcasts and asking students to subscribe. Some schools have even purchased iPods for their students with this purpose in mind. My hypothesis, however, and this needs testing of course, is this wouldn't work. Even though the potential exists to use an iPod this way, it's not how people want to use them.

I'm not saying we should never encourage people to push the limits of technology and find new ways to use products they already have. We just can't think of them as failures or technology wasters for not capitalizing on every feature. Personally, I should be happy people find the iPhone so easy to text with. I should understand that a laptop on a desk fulfills a purpose that a cheaper desktop computer could not. In the end, I should find ways to reach out to people to find the ways they want to use technology rather than cram the uses I find down their throats.

This is especially true of the news business that for far too long, failed to listen to its audiences. The transition will not be made by creating powerful new technology. Instead it will occur once we understand what technologies people actually want and will use to get their news. That's why I think there is still room for printed newspapers sometimes, especially if all I use my iPhone for is texting.

Sadly, I sent the Xbox 360 Santa Claus gave us for Christmas back to Microsoft today. I should be more angry that it came with a wonky disc drive. I've become pretty addicted to Guitar Hero III the last few weeks, Merilee has played Catan about a million times, and Lincoln keeps getting Lego Star Wars tips from his friend at school. But I'm not getting too bent out of shape because Microsoft said they'd fix it for free, no questions asked, and I need the time away from video games to get my semester started right.

I still worry about what I'm going to fill the time. How can I continue to hone my GH3 skillz without the game? How can I get the little multi-colored circles out of my brain every time I hear a song on the radio? How can I stop my mind from thinking, "Hey, they should make a pop, folk, or even country guitar hero!"? It's going to take something drastic. I think I'm going to buy a CD.

Yes, the genius of GH3 is not the addictive gameplay. It's not that it has brought casual game players to the hardcore console. It's that it might actually be a great way to sell music in the digital age, and as someone trying to understand the future of media, it's a perfect example of some of my ideas at work.

In an age when CD sales are down, MTV and VH1 no longer play music videos, and radio stations play the same three songs over and over again (Sorry, Jason Mraz. I love you but the next time I hear "I'm Yours" on the radio I'm going to crash my car into a pole.), artists and their labels need to embrace the new media like never before. GH and all of its sequels and clones represent a vibrant opportunity.

Take me, for example. I thought I knew all the progressive heavy metal bands there were. OK, I knew three - Dream Theater, Queensryche and Savatage - but I was pretty satisfied. Then I completed GH3 on easy and was introduced to the metal onslaught amid fantasy themes that is Dragonforce. Admittedly, I still fail their song "Through the Fire and Flames" in easy mode, but I loved it so much I bought their extra track pack for the game, and I'll probably buy their CD from Zune marketplace. (I have a Zune. I know. I'm a geek.)

I've also found new dimensions to bands I thought I knew. I've always liked Weezer, for instance, from a distance. They were always just the cool band whose Happy Days-inspired video came with Windows 95 and whose latest single "Pork and Beans" features recreations of all the coolest Web videos. Now, however, I think I have played their song "My Name is Jonas" so many times that I've come to appreciate their actual music, and their CD is next on the list. I've also developed a new fondness for Muse and Priestess, and the Kaiser Chiefs "Ruby" is almost as fun to play as it is to listen to.

I know I'm behind the curve here. GH3 is an old game. Hey, it was all I could afford after plunking down $260 on a 360. I hear GH4: World Tour is even better, and Rock Band 1 and 2 are not just pale imitators. I have to think, however, that if someone who tries to stay young and up-to-date with the new media is just finding this, I might need to evangelize. And as tired as it may sound, I may need to hold up Guitar Hero as an example of thinking outside the box with interactive technology.

We all still struggle with a way to make the Internet pay for the news business, and we probably won't do it with downloadable music. But are there ways we can use the same thinking that powers rhythm games online to find a viable online news model? Could we have news track packs - say, if you like a story about health care, you can spend a few points to get an interactive map? In other words, would an a la carte pricing structure work with the news as long as the media can provide enough stimulating content to get people to care?

It's a question that needs answering, and I hope I can soon enough. But right now I've got some guitar battles to dream up.

BTW, the remixed video of "Pork and Beans" is even better. Check it out.

I entitled this blog "giving the Internet too much credit," because honestly, that's what I tend to. I latch onto something and end up attributing everything to it. I expect sometime soon you'll see posts arguing the Internet promotes world peace, ends racial tolerance and opens a wormhole into the place where all your missing socks go.

In reality, there are some things the Internet can't do, but after spending last week remodeling our downstairs bathroom, I'm not sure what. We turned to the 'Net for just about everything. When we needed a refresher course on how to lay tile, we watched YouTube (even though I'm still wondering why the guy in the video we watched didn't drag the slotted end of his trowel through the mortar before laying the tiles.) We found the owner's manual for our water softner online after I soaked the original one. We even found a replacement shower online, even if it was one we had to have my brother, the plumbing firm vice president order for us.

I'm constantly surprised at what I find online. When Santa got me an Xbox 360 that wouldn't read discs for Christmas, I found complete instructions on how to take the sucker apart without voiding the warranty (The trick: Using a hair dryer to dissolve the glue on the warranty sticker.) From Ken Jennings, one of my favorite bloggers, I found a listing of classic Lego set instructions. This was a particularly convenient find because Lincoln dragged a bunch of my old sets out of my closet at my Mom's house and we shipped them home. They're probably in a million pieces now.

All this recent web finding has made me question my title. Can I really give the Internet too much credit or am I not giving it credit enough? Maybe the real question is to whom does the credit belong? Is it really the Internet that makes vast stores of information available to me or is it the people online? Did the Internet contract out the filming of tiling videos? Did it frequent enough garage sales to find thousands of vintage Lego sets and the accompanying instructions?

In other words, the Internet is great and maybe it deserves some credit for making it easy for people to come together, but in the end, it's the users who make all the difference. So thanks to all of you who are willing to share. Here's to another great year together. I promise I'll do more of my part to add something to the storehouse, even if it's insane ramblings on how great everyone else is.