In the last (somewhat rambling and ranty) episode, we (or rather I) decided that Wikipedia was a glittering example of society in microcosm. More mechanically, it's the most famous example of a [[Wiki]]. Others exist, of course, and not all of them are run by the Wikimedia Foundation (though an astounding array use their WikiMedia software and so look as if they are). Here's one I visit a great deal. But Wikipedia is the only one to which I've really contributed in any meaningful way, having first edited there in 2002. [[Here I am ranked 3848th in a List of users by pages created]] from 2009. I'm presumably even lower now, having made no significant contribution since 2006.
I voted for this to be the Wikipedia logo in the great vote of 2003.
It came third but is now used for the MediaWiki software application.
(The original plan was to vary the image in the brackets.)
My contributions to Wikipedia dried up through a combination of lack of time (thanks to new work commitments), and some cynicism regarding the way the original anarchic organizational model was gradually being reconstituted into a vertical system of hierarchical editing privileges. But in spite of my lack of involvement, the project has done quite well for itself. This first TV appearance for the project, in August 2003, (the cause of some excitement at the time) seems a long way away now:
It came third but is now used for the MediaWiki software application.
(The original plan was to vary the image in the brackets.)
My contributions to Wikipedia dried up through a combination of lack of time (thanks to new work commitments), and some cynicism regarding the way the original anarchic organizational model was gradually being reconstituted into a vertical system of hierarchical editing privileges. But in spite of my lack of involvement, the project has done quite well for itself. This first TV appearance for the project, in August 2003, (the cause of some excitement at the time) seems a long way away now:
You can also read the accompanying article at CNN's website.
Wikis are, by their nature, databases, which is why they seem to lend themselves to encyclopædic projects. But they needn't be so disciplined, and may be as chaotic as any website. In effect, they are a blog-style proforma whose log-in details are shared with visitors. But as a collaborative tool they have one critical drawback:
Yes, while you were busy making improvements to my copy, someone else was being busy too. And now look what's happened. Now you will both rush to try to merge your two versions, and another Edit Conflict is likely to ensue. If only there were some way of collaborating "live" on a page so that you could both see what each of you were doing.
There is such a thing. [[Real-time collaborative editing]] (RTCE) exists and is with us now (indeed, with IRC and chatrooms it always sort of existed, albeit in not such a sophisticated way as with this latest generation of tools). The most famous version is Google Docs, though my first dabblings were through PiratePad: a rather nifty collaborative environment which includes a chat window alongside the main document. Google Docs, by contrast, is a somewhat more elaborate suite of utilities that takes its cue from Microsoft Office. There's even a basic little drawing package where you can work together on little doodles. It's all rather magical out there in the clouds.
Clearly, Wikis and RTCE are brilliantly useful ways to remotely collaborate on material (or even to locally collaborate). They're also great fun to watch, as various bits of document buzz in and out of existence, and people like me write and delete rude words like "BUM".
Next on the CPD23 agenda is Dropbox, which is simply an online repository where you can store and selectively share files. It's 2GB of webspace for the cost of an email address. Given that I already have some webspace, I am not as much in awe of Dropbox as some. If I'm sending something small, I would still be inclined to use email; if I'm sending something bigger than a few megabytes I would likely prefer to pop it on my own webspace, where I knew where it was. That said, the speed and simplicity of Dropbox's desktop public folder (akin to a public folder on a shared network) makes for far less faffing around than operating an FTP client or (as friends of mine often do) uploading to a file-sharing website. In this regard, then, Dropbox could well replace my previous models of file distribution.
Here's a fun by-product of the Dropbox model: Dropbox is really just webspace, just like the webspace you might have with your ISP. Given that everything you put in your public folder has a URL attached to it, one can fill a public folder with HTML files (and associated graphics). In other words, it is possible to host a website from Dropbox.
I can find nothing in the terms and conditions that prohibits such use, and the immediacy of the public folder again trumps the comparative complexities of FTP as a means of uploading web material. For the novice web author this represents a fantastic opportunity to start playing around with HTML: an unintended consequence of a simple but effective tool. So while I'm learning how to knit myself my very own Lund jumper, those of you who've never written the magic words "a href" could be learning how to knit yourself your very own website.
Edit Conflict: Succentorship without Sneers
Someone else has changed this page since you started editing it.
Someone else has changed this page since you started editing it.
Yes, while you were busy making improvements to my copy, someone else was being busy too. And now look what's happened. Now you will both rush to try to merge your two versions, and another Edit Conflict is likely to ensue. If only there were some way of collaborating "live" on a page so that you could both see what each of you were doing.
There is such a thing. [[Real-time collaborative editing]] (RTCE) exists and is with us now (indeed, with IRC and chatrooms it always sort of existed, albeit in not such a sophisticated way as with this latest generation of tools). The most famous version is Google Docs, though my first dabblings were through PiratePad: a rather nifty collaborative environment which includes a chat window alongside the main document. Google Docs, by contrast, is a somewhat more elaborate suite of utilities that takes its cue from Microsoft Office. There's even a basic little drawing package where you can work together on little doodles. It's all rather magical out there in the clouds.
Clearly, Wikis and RTCE are brilliantly useful ways to remotely collaborate on material (or even to locally collaborate). They're also great fun to watch, as various bits of document buzz in and out of existence, and people like me write and delete rude words like "BUM".
Next on the CPD23 agenda is Dropbox, which is simply an online repository where you can store and selectively share files. It's 2GB of webspace for the cost of an email address. Given that I already have some webspace, I am not as much in awe of Dropbox as some. If I'm sending something small, I would still be inclined to use email; if I'm sending something bigger than a few megabytes I would likely prefer to pop it on my own webspace, where I knew where it was. That said, the speed and simplicity of Dropbox's desktop public folder (akin to a public folder on a shared network) makes for far less faffing around than operating an FTP client or (as friends of mine often do) uploading to a file-sharing website. In this regard, then, Dropbox could well replace my previous models of file distribution.
Here's a fun by-product of the Dropbox model: Dropbox is really just webspace, just like the webspace you might have with your ISP. Given that everything you put in your public folder has a URL attached to it, one can fill a public folder with HTML files (and associated graphics). In other words, it is possible to host a website from Dropbox.
I can find nothing in the terms and conditions that prohibits such use, and the immediacy of the public folder again trumps the comparative complexities of FTP as a means of uploading web material. For the novice web author this represents a fantastic opportunity to start playing around with HTML: an unintended consequence of a simple but effective tool. So while I'm learning how to knit myself my very own Lund jumper, those of you who've never written the magic words "a href" could be learning how to knit yourself your very own website.
Jeg vil have denne jumper!
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