Today I sat in on lectures at Princeton, MIT, and Yale. Oh, and how could I forget--there was that one about entrepreneurship at Stanford, too. So how did I criss-cross the country to sit in on some of the best classes? One simple answer: I was on Academic Earth, where you can watch videos of lectures from prestigious universities around the United States--for free.

Farhood Manjoo described Academic Earth the best when he said that it's essentially "Hulu for nerds," but you could also describe Academic Earth as YouTube for overachievers. Whatever you call it, the business, founded by Yale alum Richard Ludlow, allows the average person to learn about everything from game theory to American literature.

According to Manjoo's article on Slate, Ludlow hopes that by posting lectures he'll lower the cost of education around the world--even by running Academic Earth as a for-profit venture. He plans to add videos from think tanks and run advertising alongside it, but he won't run ads with any videos from educational institutions (as of right now).

I think Ludlow's concept is a great one, and like Manjoo, it seems more accessible than Google's Knol, since video from a classroom best approximates the experience we've all had listening to teachers over the years. Google Knol is great for random research, but Academic Earth provides a context for learning. Even though I like it a lot, I hope that Academic Earth isn't limited to just "big name" schools like Harvard, Yale, and MIT. There are tons of great professors out there doing interesting research, and they don't all teach at Ivy League institutions.

Academic Earth also seems really interesting because it finally scales the "ivory tower" and throws open the doors to the general public. It's really refreshing to see universities, especially Harvard, welcome the association with something so very modern, and web 2.0. It surprises me because it's been my experience that many academic and other institutions take a passive role when it comes to incorporating new media and technology into their plan for remaining relevant--it's only when they're faced with complete irrelevance that they make the foray into this sort of venture. I hope universities and other institutions remain open to the concept of collaborative learning.

Check out this great video about communication from Yale:

Those of you who follow me on Twitter know that last weekend I went to check out Shepard Fairey's "Supply and Demand" exhibit at the Institute for Contemporary Art in Boston, which opened on February 6th and runs through August 16th, 2009. Fairey's show was really interesting not only because I'd seen "Andre the Giant Has a Posse" and "Obey" graphics stenciled onto lampposts around the New York City area growing up, but because his work really makes you think about what we call "art," and why. His work also raises questions about the process of making art, and how to give credit to the people/work/movements that inspire you (although in the case of Fairey, the issue might be whether or not to give credit at all).

Fairey uses everything from newspaper clippings to stylized graphics to other people's work(!) to address potentially incendiary subjects like war, violence, and consumer culture. He's been creating street art for more than twenty years, but resurfaced again in the media recently for creating the Obama Hope image seen on t-shirts, posters, and even on Spike Lee. According to Fairey, in the video below, his work is based on the concept of "cross-pollination." While Fairey describes this as "getting people to think about things from a perspective that they hadn't before," I think it would be best defined as the idea that what you produce is informed by other cultural movements--social, artistic, or otherwise--as well as other people's ideas, and perspectives.

However, sometimes the fruits of cross-pollination can get you in trouble, which is what happened to Fairey last week, when the Associated Press threatened to sue him because the Obama Hope image he created is based on a photograph taken by an AP photographer. However, just yesterday, it was announced that Fairey will actually be beating the AP to the punch, and suing them first. What's happening with Fairey and the AP gives credence to the artist's detractors. It also bolsters claims from those who say that while Fairey draws liberally from other artists, he doesn't like it when they draw on his work. Case in point? When Austin graphic designer Baxter Orr borrowed from Fairey's work, he received a strange expression of gratitude: a cease and desist letter from a Fairey representative. So much for cross-pollination!

All in all, Fairey's exhibit was really thought-provoking. It made me think about the kind of art he creates, and about his beliefs and actions as an artist. But it left me with more questions than answers. While I'm still so curious why someone who believes in cross-pollination reacts so negatively to artists pursuing that very same goal, I know the show succeeded in some way by making me question everything.

I recently succumbed to peer pressure and joined Twitter. Now you can be regaled with countless updates from me, Sonja, each day. Some of you might find this useful ("Look, there's a real person behind The Cultivated Word!") while others may not ("Why should I care what she thinks about Oscar Meyer's new ad campaign?"). The best thing is that the choice is yours--follow me on Twitter, or not.

In signing up for Twitter--which I firmly believe is an electronic, yet highly schizophrenic re-interpretation of high school--I realize that I'm opening the door to a torrent of judgment, both personal and professional, from all sorts of readers. I'm going to try to embrace that because I believe it will make me a better writer--somehow.

For those of you unfamiliar with Twitter, the basic premise is that you follow people's updates and ostensibly, people follow yours, too. When you sign up to "follow" someone on Twitter, they're notified by email. However, since Twitter has now gone from social media experiment to mainstream networking tool, following someone--anyone--can be interpreted as flattering, strategic, or both. "Following" someone gets you into a bit of trouble because the person being followed may think either 1) you care what they have to say or 2) you want to keep tabs on them.

"Following" someone on Twitter may have started out as a simple gesture, but in the ever-shrinking space of the internet, it can mean a lot more. So what if you want to get the benefits of following someone on Twitter--knowing what they're up to professionally, for example--without them knowing that you're following them? That's where TweetStalk comes in. The application allows you to follow someone on Twitter--and get all the "benefits" of that--without them knowing that you're following their every move. Freaky, huh? It's like that 80's song by Rockwell, "I always feel like somebody's watching me..." Nope, not good.

My take on it? TweetStalking is anti-social media. The whole point of sites like Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, et cetera, is to socialize. I admit, sometimes that form of electronic socialization is a giant, juvenile, time-suck, but hey, it's just one more facet of social media, so why not embrace it? Don't let the anti-social stalkers take the fun out of social media sites like Twitter.