Kelsey Has Decided to Be Smarter Than She Thought.

   After a long hiatus from blogging - I really have no excuses other than I was preparing for my magical experience at Disney World. Yes.

MAGICAL.

As Thompson says, "Collaboration and collective thinking don't happen by magic," (158). But what happens when our memory disappears -- as if by magic?

   As a photography major, I am constantly concerned with data. Backing it up, making sure I have enough of it, making sure it is in the correct format, ensuring that I have it backed up again, and finally, backing it up again. And again. Too often, I have lost photos in an external hard drive's crash, and friends in the Photo Program have had computers crash. Luckily, I have learned my lesson and bought TWO external hard drives. 

   But, what about when we don't want our information backed up? I've been aware of our attempt to make sexting easier (or, if you are me, fat faces with multiple chins) -- with SnapChat and the like, but with screenshotting, this idea has been proved rather useless. However, I have never heard of Drop.io before this book. The idea is fascinating to me, though I don't think the concept is necessarily new.

   Whenever I think about the clutter of my laptop, I think of the clutter of my bedroom. Some people have their files neatly kept away, and rooms with beds neatly made. My desktop resembles a tornado aftermath, and my bed hasn't been made for at least a decade. It never made sense to me -- Why make it if I am just going to sleep in it again a few hours later?! I think, then, of the boxes and boxes of old photos my mom keeps under her bed, never to see a frame, or place on the wall. Is this so different than the masses of files I keep in folders on my laptop, never to see the virtual world, unless through Instagram or Facebook? 

   The idea of Drop.io is intriguing, because of its sense of immediacy. If you have used the document for its worth -- why keep it? I don't know. Because I've been taught to hoard? Because I have a knack for remembering where things are, despite how many other things it is under? We seem to be fascinated with keeping things, but what if we become (more like my older sister) and become fascinated with dropping things?

   Will the magic be gone?