Month: April 2026

Assignment#1 What’s in my Bag?

1. Summary and reflection:

Rosemary’s bag is quite different from mine because she focuses on strict control and limitation. Her small bag forces her to carefully choose what to carry, showing discipline and clear priorities. In contrast, I am more flexible and still adjusting to reducing what I bring with me. I can see this difference in how she treats every item as necessary, while I always keep things in bag just in case. Therefore, her choices shape how we understand her. The strong sense of order and selectivity creates a calm and controlled impression. It really shows values like efficiency, privacy, and self-management. Compared to my own approach, hers is more focused on discipline, while mine gives more room. This task helped me realize that everyday choices can communicate meaning. Even small decisions, like what to carry, can show identity and values to a certain degree.

 

[6.4] Task 6: An emoji story

2. Summary and reflection:

Sooyoung’s reflection raised a great point regarding the limits of emojis and how meanings can be unclear. She showed that even simple symbols, like the “hug” emoji, can be misunderstood. I can see this through her examples and how others could not recognize her movie. In my own work, I also felt this difficulty, but more in how I had to change the way I think. For example, I relied mainly on ideas and visual symbols, not words. When I removed language, I felt constrained and disoriented because I am used to thinking in sentences and clear order. This shows how strongly language shapes thinking. Compared to my classmate, I focused more on the process of adapting my thinking, while she focused more on interpretation and misunderstanding. Both of us used visual literacy, but we also saw its limits. Meaning is not always shared, and it depends on personal experience.

 

Task 7: Mode-bending

3. Summary and reflection:

What stood out to me in Jason’s work is how he used the video to make the bag feel more alive and expressive! The music and performance make the items more than just objects, but become part of a story that is emotional and engaging. In my own work, I moved in a different direction. Instead of adding more expression, I focused on patterns of use (although I ended up oversimplifying the process). When I mapped my bag into a calendar, I noticed that many items are rarely used. This changed my understanding. The bag is always with me, but it is often quiet. Then I realized that meaning might not always come from what is inside, but more from when and how I use it. This comparison helped me see that meaning can be shaped in very different ways. One approach adds energy and clarity, while another reveals gaps and reflection. It also shows that identity is not fixed but formed through repeated actions over time.

 

9.2 – Golden Record Quiz Analysis

4. Summary and reflection:

What I found most interesting in Sophia’s work is her point on how the visualization creates a strong sense of connection between people. It feels engaging, especially in a remote setting, because it makes relationships visible. However, they also clearly show that these connections can be misleading. Just because people are grouped together does not mean they think the same way. This made me reflect on my own experience. When I used the tool, I focused more on identifying patterns, such as which songs were central and how groups were formed. At first, this felt very clear and useful. But as I tried to go deeper, I realized the same limitation: the tool shows what people chose, but not why. In both cases, the data could not support a deeper meaning. It only shows surface-level connections. Both of our reflections helped me understand that patterns can look meaningful, but human choices are shaped by culture, experience, and intention, which are not visible in the graph. 

 

Task 10: Attention Economy

5. Summary and reflection:

Reading Ellie’s experience, I could really relate to the frustration she described when things that look “correct” don’t actually work. The sense of being tricked or manipulated stood out to me. In my own experience, I didn’t take as long, but I noticed something else. Gradually, I became aware of how automatic my actions are. I kept following habits, like clicking “agree” or scrolling down, without thinking. When the game reversed these patterns, I felt stuck. It made me realize how much we depend on familiar design rules. This task helped me understand that digital literacy is not just about using technology, but also about questioning it. We need to be more aware of how design guides our actions and affects our attention.

 

Task 12: Speculative Futures

6. Summary and reflection:

The future classroom described by Debbie’s AI focuses on feeling and interaction. What stood out to me is how learning becomes something students experience through sound, color, and movement, which makes learning more emotional and immediate. In comparison, my scenario focuses more on memory and knowledge. Instead of feeling relationships, my AI imagined a living library that stores and connects human experiences. The two scenarios made me think about two directions for future learning. One focuses on sensing and interaction, while the other focuses on storing and interpreting knowledge. Debbie also questions how emotions can be interpreted by technology. In my case, I question whether AI can truly understand memory without feeling it. Even if technology becomes more advanced, it may still lack human awareness.

Ji, Final Infographic

Prompt: In approximately 600 words, write a poem, a scene, a vision, a dream, or a fragment of a future memory, let your imagination loosen and allow yourself to explore the world and the future from a different perspective. The future is two thousand years from yesterday, you are on a bridge, you are feeling amused, and you focus your attention upon a library.

Scenario by AI: I stand on the Bridge of Returning Echoes, a ribbon of translucent stone arcing over a river that no longer carries water but memory. The currents shimmer beneath me—threads of light, drifting recollections from civilizations long folded into dust. Every so often, a glimmer rises, brushing the underside of the bridge like a fish testing the surface. Each time, I feel a small, private amusement, as though the past is trying to tickle my feet.

The air is warm with the scent of ionized blossoms. They grow along the railings in spirals, petals humming faintly as if whispering to one another. I lean forward, elbows on the cool surface, and let my gaze settle on the structure ahead: the Grand Library of the Seventh Continuum.

Calling it a library feels almost quaint. It is a living architecture, a colossal organism of knowledge. Its walls breathe. Its windows dilate like pupils. Its spires—if one can call them that—curl upward in slow, deliberate motion, tasting the sky. Every few minutes, the entire building shifts its weight, as though adjusting itself to a more comfortable position.

I can’t help but smile. Two thousand years from yesterday, and libraries still fidget like bored students.

A soft pulse travels through the bridge, a reminder that it, too, is alive. The engineers of this era prefer their structures sentient, believing that a building with awareness will care for its inhabitants. I’m not entirely convinced, but I enjoy the sensation of being carried, gently, toward the library’s entrance. The bridge seems pleased with my amusement; its surface warms beneath my palms.

As I approach, the library opens a doorway for me—not a door, but a widening of its outer membrane, like a curtain of light parting. I step inside.

The interior is vast, but not in any geometric sense. Space folds here. Shelves extend in spirals, then collapse into points, then bloom outward again. Books—if they can still be called books—float freely, drifting like jellyfish in a slow current. Some are crystalline, some liquid, some woven from strands of pure sound. One glides past my shoulder, humming a melody that feels like déjà vu.

A librarian notices me. Or perhaps it simply decides to manifest. It appears as a figure made of shifting script—letters forming limbs, punctuation marks blinking like eyes. Its voice is a rustle of pages turning somewhere far away.

Welcome back. You left a question unfinished.

I laugh. “I leave many things unfinished.”

This one has been waiting. The figure gestures, and a sphere of light drifts toward me. Inside it, I see a memory I don’t recognize—my own face, younger, standing on this same bridge, asking something I can’t quite hear.

“What was I searching for?”

Understanding. The librarian tilts its head. You asked how a civilization remembers itself.

“And did you answer?”

You left before you heard it.

The sphere dissolves, scattering motes of light that drift upward like fireflies. I feel a tug of curiosity, gentle but insistent. The library seems to lean closer, as though eager to resume a conversation paused for centuries.

“Then tell me now,” I say.

The librarian’s form ripples, letters rearranging into new shapes.

A civilization remembers itself the way you do—imperfectly, playfully, with gaps that become gardens. Memory is not a record. It is a bridge.

I glance back toward the entrance, where the Bridge of Returning Echoes glows softly, carrying new travelers across its luminous span.

A bridge. Yes. That feels right.

And for a moment, standing in the living heart of the future’s library, I feel the quiet joy of someone who has finally returned to finish a question.

Reflection: In the scenario, I am standing on a bridge and looking at a living library that stores memory instead of books. This future world made me think about speculative design and how imagining the future helps us think about the present. Speculative design is not only about predicting what will happen, but also asking questions about the relationships between technology and society. When we imagine a future library that is alive and remembers, we are really thinking about how we store knowledge and how technology might change learning in the future. The future library in the story does not just store information, it helps people continue their questions. So in the future, knowledge might not just be stored, but also interpreted and connected by AI. 

It reminds me of the video we watched from Abby Smith on Digitalization. The importance of digitalization is not only that information becomes digital, but that digital contexts become the foundation that AI builds on. When knowledge, and texts are digitized, they become training data for AI. However, this also creates problems such as bias. For example, when I asked Copilot to generate an image of myself, it first generated a Caucasian male. When I specified that I am an Asian woman, it then generated a short Asian girl with curly hair (I’m relatively tall with straight hair). This shows that AI is learning stereotypes and biases from digital data and continuing them without consciousness or understanding. AI does not know what is correct or fair; it only learns patterns. This is why digitalization is powerful but also dangerous. Therefore, the digitalization of texts, images, and knowledge needs to be carefully selected and considered, because what we digitize today may shape how AI understands humans and society in the future.

Another point I noticed is that the bridge and the library in the story are intelligent and responsive, but we do not know if they actually feel anything. Harari says, “we are seeing a tremendous development in computer intelligence, but zero development in computer consciousness.” It also explains that “just as aeroplanes fly faster than birds without ever developing feathers, so computers could come to solve problems and even to analyze human feelings much better than humans, without ever developing feelings.” This idea is important when thinking about the future library. The library may understand human history and memory better than humans, but it may not actually feel anything about the memories it stores. This makes me wonder if intelligence alone is enough for machines to manage human knowledge and memory, or if human feelings and experiences are still important.

Disclaimer: Microsoft Copilot was used to generate the scenario and the image on this page.

 

 

 

I completed User Inyerface in about five minutes, but the experience felt much longer than the actual time. While the game is designed to challenge normal expectations of website design, it made me realize how much I rely on familiar patterns when interacting with digital interfaces.

One of the most difficult parts for me was the password setting page. I spent a lot of time there because I did not notice that I had to click to not agree with the terms and conditions. Normally, users are trained to click “agree” and move forward. This game reversed the logic which forced me to slow down. It made me realize how much of my online behavior is automatic rather than thoughtful. Another part was the pop-up window that acted as a time reminder. There was no clear option to close it, which made me feel stuck. I had to search around the screen to figure out how to remove it. This reflects how design can control user behavior by limiting choices or hiding options.In the final page, the checkboxes were placed at the top of the page rather than at the bottom. My instinct was to scroll down, but the correct action was to scroll up. This small design choice disrupted my expectations again and made the task harder than necessary. It showed how design can guide or misguide users depending on the structure of information.

These experiences strongly connect to the ideas in Tristan Harris’ TedTalk. Harris explains that many digital platforms are intentionally designed to capture and keep our attention. In the game, the frustration and confusion forced me to stay engaged longer than I wanted. Similarly, real-world apps use notifications, infinite scrolling, and unclear options to keep users interacting. The game also relates to Zeynep Tufekci’s TedTalk where she argues that online systems are designed to push users toward certain behaviors, often for profit. In User Inyerface, the misleading design choices made me click and think in ways I normally would not. 

Overall, this experience made me more aware of how design influences behavior. What seems like simple interaction is often guided by hidden rules and expectations. The game exaggerates bad design, but shows that users do not always have full control. Designers do. Because of this, I think it is important to be mindful of how much time we spend on screens. One effective way to respond is to intentionally reduce screen time and focus on fewer, more meaningful interactions. By doing this, we can protect our ability to give full, undivided attention to what truly matters, rather than constantly reacting to distractions designed by technology platforms. As Harris mentions, attention is all we have.