information, information, tsk, tsk, tsk

While I was reading Buckman's article, I could just imagine "documentalists" bickering over what is or is not a document/information/data (which would likely make me tear my hair out).  Maybe there's a huge struggle over information terminology of which I am not aware.  But the definition of information makes sense in a world of limited space and resources for physical items.  My husband is researching collections of indie cassette tapes: who collects them, who should collect them, where should they be housed, and why or why not?  The answers to these questions could depend on whether or not the tapes are considered information.  As a side note, I don't think I'm alone in craving physical copies of art or music in the "digital age" when everything seems so fleeting and intangible.

Anyway, Buckman made an interesting case for the inclusion of an antelope in a zoo under the umbrella of information or document.  Since it communicates information about its species and habitat, an antelope must be a sort of document, right?  It seems, then, that logically a zoo might be considered a storehouse for information, like an archive or library.  Clearly, we do not use such a broad definition when managing library collections or archives, though Buckman wants to blow the lid off of traditionally restrictive definitions.  The conclusion I drew is that an object's status as information is linked to its use as information by a user.  I think the article is more an exercise in philosophy than a set of practical guidelines, but it definitely impressed on me how broad a swath information science may cut.  In fact, information science/studies/literacy/whatever you want to call it has been popping up all over lately in my life. 

Since I read about personal information management in my other class, I've been much more conscious of how I organize my own files and emails.  Each time I search for a document or song or photo on my computer, I wonder whether it really is more beneficial to keep everything miscellaneous, as Weinberger asserts in Everything is Miscellaneous, or whether there is some merit to my categorization structures in iPhoto or on my desktop.  Weinberger's comments on nesting and classification come back to me as I read a story to my first graders that scopes from their bedrooms to houses to neighborhoods all the way to the universe.