Last night, one of my student workers and I were talking. He is a psychology major interested in clinical practice. I graduated in English and religion. So, of course, we were talking about mathematics. Rob says to me, "Sometimes I try and figure out formulas in my head. Most of the time with squares."
Now, I suck at mental math. But I wrote down what he said and worked it into a formulaic expression. So, let me know if Rob is a genius or if he just stumbled on an obvious pattern that should have been obvious if math were our field.
x2 = ( x + y ) + y2, where y = x - 1
We did some random trials of 1 through 20. It seemed to hold true.
--
This is the essence of academia. Exploration beyond your specialty. Lots of professors forget that. Like PBS says, you never stop learning.
Below is an [unedited] epic comment to a phrase that Loren happened to use in a recent post. Elsewhere, I have also mused "I wonder when literature became disposable." Let me know what you think. Am I right? Am I wrong?
--
post-literate culture.
Yes, when we are talking about paper and pasteboard, hardbound printed pieces. We have been for years. In chronological order, the role that the popular novel (and poetry tome) once played has been filled by radio, movies, television and the internet. While movies come early in the chronology, they are still an active literature source today.
In fact, I hold that movies are the literature of the 20th century, but novels and short stories offer something that movies and television cannot. Movies and television bring to the viewer a fully realized and complete imagined world with definite rules and characters and progression. Paper-based stories offer an array of options, interpretations, envisionings.
For instance, I had the pleasure of reading the first few Harry Potter books before the movies came out. I had the joy of building the world along with the book, picturing the smudge on Ron's face, the unruly hair and ragged clothes of Harry and the wild hair and horsey teeth of Hermione. Not to mention the vast unexplored environs of Hogwarts. Yes, the books had cover art and probably chapter heading illustrations, but I have always laid more weight on the word than on drawings.
With the brilliant success of the movies, you can't read a HP book without picturing Rupert Grint's smudge-free face, Daniel Radcliffe's stylized hair and wardrobe and Emma Watson's curls and perfect teeth.
I'm not saying there are no great movies, nor am I saying the printed word is dead. But an ink and paper story has to offer something that engages, involves and invites the reader to participate.
Reading is a participation sport, movies and television are attendance only.
--
post-literate culture.
Yes, when we are talking about paper and pasteboard, hardbound printed pieces. We have been for years. In chronological order, the role that the popular novel (and poetry tome) once played has been filled by radio, movies, television and the internet. While movies come early in the chronology, they are still an active literature source today.
In fact, I hold that movies are the literature of the 20th century, but novels and short stories offer something that movies and television cannot. Movies and television bring to the viewer a fully realized and complete imagined world with definite rules and characters and progression. Paper-based stories offer an array of options, interpretations, envisionings.
For instance, I had the pleasure of reading the first few Harry Potter books before the movies came out. I had the joy of building the world along with the book, picturing the smudge on Ron's face, the unruly hair and ragged clothes of Harry and the wild hair and horsey teeth of Hermione. Not to mention the vast unexplored environs of Hogwarts. Yes, the books had cover art and probably chapter heading illustrations, but I have always laid more weight on the word than on drawings.
With the brilliant success of the movies, you can't read a HP book without picturing Rupert Grint's smudge-free face, Daniel Radcliffe's stylized hair and wardrobe and Emma Watson's curls and perfect teeth.
I'm not saying there are no great movies, nor am I saying the printed word is dead. But an ink and paper story has to offer something that engages, involves and invites the reader to participate.
Reading is a participation sport, movies and television are attendance only.
Rom. If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray'r.
Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do!
They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Rom. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Romeo and Juliet, I.v.93-107
--
What day is today? Today is Palm Sunday. However, this does not mean that you slap hands all day, getting and giving high-fives. Nor do you get to quote R+J's sonnet to random strangers (see above). Rather, today is about the triumph of Christ on an ass.
The sermon I heard today? Something about goats and money and how we are all Judas/betrayers/Benedict Arnold. The sermon I thought about while half listening? Judas as overly-invested and hyper-focused leading into an examination of those things which are lifted up literally and figuratively (women, the left-handed, the Benjamites, the donkey, the snake, the Christ).
--
As a callback to the witty banter from Shakespeare, a little tidbit from teevee:
Dwight: Ooh. I love repartee.
Isabelle: Do you?
Dwight: Usually means there's a battle scene coming.
The Office (US), 6.21
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Jul. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.
Rom. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Jul. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in pray'r.
Rom. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do!
They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.
Jul. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.
Rom. Then move not while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Romeo and Juliet, I.v.93-107
--
What day is today? Today is Palm Sunday. However, this does not mean that you slap hands all day, getting and giving high-fives. Nor do you get to quote R+J's sonnet to random strangers (see above). Rather, today is about the triumph of Christ on an ass.
The sermon I heard today? Something about goats and money and how we are all Judas/betrayers/Benedict Arnold. The sermon I thought about while half listening? Judas as overly-invested and hyper-focused leading into an examination of those things which are lifted up literally and figuratively (women, the left-handed, the Benjamites, the donkey, the snake, the Christ).
--
As a callback to the witty banter from Shakespeare, a little tidbit from teevee:
Dwight: Ooh. I love repartee.
Isabelle: Do you?
Dwight: Usually means there's a battle scene coming.
The Office (US), 6.21
Indulge me, if you will. What is composition?
Is it the act of assembly?
The totality of parts?
The relationship between parts?
How about a resounding, post-dualist, lit-critical YES?!
Great. I want to talk about number A. The act of assembly. I fear and love that at the present moment we writer types are precariously liminal, riding the cusp of construct and immediacy. Where once writers built sentences, paragraphs, chapters before committing to the physical act of carving/inscribing/ink-to-foolscap-typing, we are encouraged to bang out words.
I have an electric typewriter (not electronic). It's loud hum and cacophonous tacking are a sensory experience, but if your fingers miss a keystrike, that whole page is dead. Unforgiving much? The computer has changed all that. However . . .
Recently, I turned from the electronic letterpan to a more traditional medium, skittering a pencil over notebook paper. All of my former teachers and wannabe-study-partners are gasping because I write quickly and generally illegibly.
What I must remember when I write by hand is this:
In order to return to what I have written and find words, I must write intentionally. Slower, neater, considerate of the words before and following.
In order to conserve space and graphite, my words must be intentional. Planned, realized, considering the phrases and sentences surrounding.
This intentional composition is much more organic and time intensive than my previous writing styles (sit down and pound it out, jot it down, words, words, words). I'm not yet sure about a difference in quality.
What I fear (and know to be true) is that the immediacy inherent in the electronic word processor/internet results in an obsessional focus on production, poor quality writing, decreased consideration of possibilities and missed opportunities for greatness.
What I love (and know to be true) is that construction is faster, easier, more forgiving on the computer.
Where do you find your balance?
Is it the act of assembly?
The totality of parts?
The relationship between parts?
How about a resounding, post-dualist, lit-critical YES?!
Great. I want to talk about number A. The act of assembly. I fear and love that at the present moment we writer types are precariously liminal, riding the cusp of construct and immediacy. Where once writers built sentences, paragraphs, chapters before committing to the physical act of carving/inscribing/ink-to-foolscap-typing, we are encouraged to bang out words.
I have an electric typewriter (not electronic). It's loud hum and cacophonous tacking are a sensory experience, but if your fingers miss a keystrike, that whole page is dead. Unforgiving much? The computer has changed all that. However . . .
Recently, I turned from the electronic letterpan to a more traditional medium, skittering a pencil over notebook paper. All of my former teachers and wannabe-study-partners are gasping because I write quickly and generally illegibly.
What I must remember when I write by hand is this:
In order to return to what I have written and find words, I must write intentionally. Slower, neater, considerate of the words before and following.
In order to conserve space and graphite, my words must be intentional. Planned, realized, considering the phrases and sentences surrounding.
This intentional composition is much more organic and time intensive than my previous writing styles (sit down and pound it out, jot it down, words, words, words). I'm not yet sure about a difference in quality.
What I fear (and know to be true) is that the immediacy inherent in the electronic word processor/internet results in an obsessional focus on production, poor quality writing, decreased consideration of possibilities and missed opportunities for greatness.
What I love (and know to be true) is that construction is faster, easier, more forgiving on the computer.
Where do you find your balance?
I love webcomics. Unfortunately, some of those that I love, I don't feel comfortable sharing. Not because they are overly personal or something, but because they are wont to be crude or offensive or antithetical to my beliefs. However, I have discovered one I can feel comfortable geeking out loud about. It's Brat-Halla.
Did you notice how that title sounds like Valhalla, but 'brat' is also included? If you are thinking of Muppet Babies, you are on the right track. Some of the Norse Gods (Thor, Loki, Sif, Balder, Hod, Hermod and Heimdal) are brats . . . somehow.
Ground level knowledge: Thor is extremely strong, Loki is the Trickster, Sif is in love with Thor, Balder is indestructible, Hod is blind and angsty, Hermod is fast and Heimdal is a tracker.
If you know the myths, you'll really enjoy how this comic plays with conventions. If you are a Norse-head obsessed with canon, you'll have problems with the comic. If you have a cursory knowledge informed mostly by Wikipedia or Marvel Comics, you'll do fine. If you know nothing, it's confusing. But so are most mythologies with family as gods.
What this comic does include: hijinks, drinks, love, parenting, siblings, imaginary creatures, curvaceous ladies, mixed mythologies, gothy Hod (he's a big draw with a certain crowd).
What this comic does not include: foul language, full nudity (up to PG-13), conversations of a highly graphic nature, foul language (yeah, I said it twice).
Did you notice how that title sounds like Valhalla, but 'brat' is also included? If you are thinking of Muppet Babies, you are on the right track. Some of the Norse Gods (Thor, Loki, Sif, Balder, Hod, Hermod and Heimdal) are brats . . . somehow.
Ground level knowledge: Thor is extremely strong, Loki is the Trickster, Sif is in love with Thor, Balder is indestructible, Hod is blind and angsty, Hermod is fast and Heimdal is a tracker.
If you know the myths, you'll really enjoy how this comic plays with conventions. If you are a Norse-head obsessed with canon, you'll have problems with the comic. If you have a cursory knowledge informed mostly by Wikipedia or Marvel Comics, you'll do fine. If you know nothing, it's confusing. But so are most mythologies with family as gods.
What this comic does include: hijinks, drinks, love, parenting, siblings, imaginary creatures, curvaceous ladies, mixed mythologies, gothy Hod (he's a big draw with a certain crowd).
What this comic does not include: foul language, full nudity (up to PG-13), conversations of a highly graphic nature, foul language (yeah, I said it twice).
This is not what I wrote for the upcoming Shared Storytelling. But it is what I thought about writing.
Six Birds.
I- Catching the wind, I soared. No more.
II- On darkling wings, I stalled and dove.
III- I wrought bugly destruction with my beak
IV- My fierce talons struck , never weak. Now
V- we flutter stray feathers and
VI- lie still beneath the weather.
Six Birds.
I- Catching the wind, I soared. No more.
II- On darkling wings, I stalled and dove.
III- I wrought bugly destruction with my beak
IV- My fierce talons struck , never weak. Now
V- we flutter stray feathers and
VI- lie still beneath the weather.
This guy.
Who ruined a bathmat set?
Same guy.
Gah.
Who ruined a bathmat set?
Same guy.
Gah.
If you do a lot of unguarded personal information sharing/over-sharing/spewing (i.e. date and place of birth, current address, mother's maiden name), unscrupulous folks can yoink your SSN.
Thanks for helping my paranoia, facebook friend without a name, hometown or picture.
Thanks for helping my paranoia, facebook friend without a name, hometown or picture.
The Truth shall set you back a couple bucks.
That cracked me up when I thought of it. Anyway, on to truths behind my creative writing.
1. Before I was married, I dropped a desk onto my left hand, but was saved by the presence of my engagement ring.
->True. While Em was not terribly interested in me getting her an engagement ring, I thought it only fair and fitting that we both be marked as 'set apart' in the interim before the wedding. Plus, I looked good in that ring.
2. I am descended from a long line of literary critics and philosophers. Also a pop art painter.
->False. Although Google pulls these guys up, I am not directly (or distantly) related to them. That I know of.
3. I was referred to on a recent library survey as "Old guy with earrings."
->True. sigh However, they also said I was very helpful and deserved a raise. Sweet!
4. In 9th grade, I ruined a vacuum cleaner with cigarette smoke.
->True. I tested the efficacy of cigarette filters by drawing cigarette smoke of different brands of filtered and non-filtered death sticks through coffee filters in a jerry-rigged funnel attached to the hose. From then on, the house smelled like a bar whenever Mom vacuumed.
5. I always went to bed on time while growing up.
->False. Night Owl. This guy.
6. I think beer is the milk of the gods.
->False. I think beer tastes like pee. Sick cat pee. But maybe I just haven't found my match.
7. My father drove my mother 90 miles south so that I could be born.
->True. We lived in a small Texas "town" of ~1500 folks. 90 miles south was reliable medical care. Ergo, I love road trips.
There she is, folks.
Truths: 4
Falsehoods: 3
Fair and balanced. Right?
--
Ps. I wore the mustache to work on Monday. Interesting observations and some truth telling from my lovely wife.
That cracked me up when I thought of it. Anyway, on to truths behind my creative writing.
1. Before I was married, I dropped a desk onto my left hand, but was saved by the presence of my engagement ring.
->True. While Em was not terribly interested in me getting her an engagement ring, I thought it only fair and fitting that we both be marked as 'set apart' in the interim before the wedding. Plus, I looked good in that ring.
2. I am descended from a long line of literary critics and philosophers. Also a pop art painter.
->False. Although Google pulls these guys up, I am not directly (or distantly) related to them. That I know of.
3. I was referred to on a recent library survey as "Old guy with earrings."
->True. sigh However, they also said I was very helpful and deserved a raise. Sweet!
4. In 9th grade, I ruined a vacuum cleaner with cigarette smoke.
->True. I tested the efficacy of cigarette filters by drawing cigarette smoke of different brands of filtered and non-filtered death sticks through coffee filters in a jerry-rigged funnel attached to the hose. From then on, the house smelled like a bar whenever Mom vacuumed.
5. I always went to bed on time while growing up.
->False. Night Owl. This guy.
6. I think beer is the milk of the gods.
->False. I think beer tastes like pee. Sick cat pee. But maybe I just haven't found my match.
7. My father drove my mother 90 miles south so that I could be born.
->True. We lived in a small Texas "town" of ~1500 folks. 90 miles south was reliable medical care. Ergo, I love road trips.
There she is, folks.
Truths: 4
Falsehoods: 3
Fair and balanced. Right?
--
Ps. I wore the mustache to work on Monday. Interesting observations and some truth telling from my lovely wife.
4:07 PM me: turns out no one wants to be your friend when you have a mustache
:(
4:08 PM Everyone is rude when they come to the desk
I guess the age of the mustache has passed us by
Em: it is because you look creepy
This is a repost from Loren's blog. In case you get confused about who "I" is referencing. P(re)S(cript): I want you to participate.
---
Shared Storytelling: Six Birds
Striking images often prove to be great seeds for stories, arresting images that can flower into plots and characters and themes with just a little coaxing. Recently, regular ISLF commenter B. Nagel emailed me with one such image he'd encountered in real life:
When I got to the back of the library yesterday to open up, there were six or so little dead birds ranged along the base of the wall. Not evenly spaced or staged, but looking like they all took a concrete dive from three stories up. They were grayish-brown with bright yellow tips to their tail feathers. Got my wheels turning. Pathogen? Weaponized disease? Malevolent spirit? Disturbed kid with a BB gun?
It got mine turning, too, not only with writing ideas, but also with the thought of what a great round of Shared Storytelling it could foment. Spring is in the air, and not all the birds are singing. In the spirit of Advent Ghosts 2009, let B. and I issue the invitation: Come, pick up your pen, and join us in telling a story.
The rules, you ask? Ah, well, those are quite simple ...
1.) Email both of us at ISawLightningFall [at] gmail [dot] com and BNagelBlog [at] gmail [dot] com to let us know you're interested.
2.) Write a piece of flash fiction up to 1,000 words in length that either incorporates or is inspired by B.'s account of the six birds.
3.) Post it to your blog on April 10 and email us the direct link.
As before, don't be deterred if you don't have a blog. Just let us know, and we'll arrange to post your story directly.
(Picture: CC 2005 by It'sGreg)
---
Shared Storytelling: Six Birds
Striking images often prove to be great seeds for stories, arresting images that can flower into plots and characters and themes with just a little coaxing. Recently, regular ISLF commenter B. Nagel emailed me with one such image he'd encountered in real life:
When I got to the back of the library yesterday to open up, there were six or so little dead birds ranged along the base of the wall. Not evenly spaced or staged, but looking like they all took a concrete dive from three stories up. They were grayish-brown with bright yellow tips to their tail feathers. Got my wheels turning. Pathogen? Weaponized disease? Malevolent spirit? Disturbed kid with a BB gun?
It got mine turning, too, not only with writing ideas, but also with the thought of what a great round of Shared Storytelling it could foment. Spring is in the air, and not all the birds are singing. In the spirit of Advent Ghosts 2009, let B. and I issue the invitation: Come, pick up your pen, and join us in telling a story.
The rules, you ask? Ah, well, those are quite simple ...
1.) Email both of us at ISawLightningFall [at] gmail [dot] com and BNagelBlog [at] gmail [dot] com to let us know you're interested.
2.) Write a piece of flash fiction up to 1,000 words in length that either incorporates or is inspired by B.'s account of the six birds.
3.) Post it to your blog on April 10 and email us the direct link.
As before, don't be deterred if you don't have a blog. Just let us know, and we'll arrange to post your story directly.
(Picture: CC 2005 by It'sGreg)
For your viewing enjoyment, I've put together a slideshow. Well, really Picasa did all the work. I just uploaded the photos and said, "Hrm." There are captions and such!
This whole writing happy stuff is harder than it sounds. I either get sappy-crappy schmaltzy (sp?) drek or use all my creative energy fighting a desire to twist the end.
Anyway, the show is below. You can't see it, but the title is "New Folk to Classic Queen in 6 easy steps." Make that 7. Step 1, grow an over-large beard. You can also pause and navigate via the arrows at the bottom of the display. Captions are turned on and off by clicking the speech balloon.If you wait until the end, you can go the Picasa album directly by clicking my eyeball.
This whole writing happy stuff is harder than it sounds. I either get sappy-crappy schmaltzy (sp?) drek or use all my creative energy fighting a desire to twist the end.
Anyway, the show is below. You can't see it, but the title is "New Folk to Classic Queen in 6 easy steps." Make that 7. Step 1, grow an over-large beard. You can also pause and navigate via the arrows at the bottom of the display. Captions are turned on and off by clicking the speech balloon.If you wait until the end, you can go the Picasa album directly by clicking my eyeball.
Soooo. A month ago, I was tapped as a bald faced liar Creative Writer. The strikethrough was fortunate because I had just finished growing a luxurious Short Boxed/full beard (The Chin Curtain speaks to me, though). That's right. It only takes a month. Some guys get all the luck. And the hassle of constant grooming. Not to mention razor burn.
But on the the award!
It looks like my prevarications, er, skills are evident to all.
Das Rules:
• Thank the person who gave this to you. (Danke to Loren Eaton of I Saw Lightning Fall.)
• Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
• Link to the person who nominated you.
• Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth - or - switch it around and tell six outrageous truths and one outrageous lie.
• Nominate seven "Creative Writers" who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
• Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.
• Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.
To the stories!
1. Before I was married, I dropped a desk onto my left hand, but was saved by the presence of my engagement ring.
2. I am descended from a long line of literary critics and philosophers. Also a pop art painter.
3. I was referred to on a recent library survey as "Old guy with earrings."
4. In 9th grade, I ruined a vacuum cleaner with cigarette smoke.
5. I always went to bed on time while growing up.
6. I think beer is the milk of the gods.
7. My father drove my mother 90 miles south so that I could be born.
The Nominations!
1. Phoenix at Res Ipsa Loquitur.
2. Lux at Repeat First Time Offender.
3. Josh at The Account of My Life and Times.
4. Suzanne at Tales of Extraordinary Orinariness.
5. B.J. Anderson at B J Anderson.
6. You
7. Yes, you.
Have at it, folks. Let me know what you think is truth and what is pyrite. The veil will be lifted . . . later.
But on the the award!
It looks like my prevarications, er, skills are evident to all. Das Rules:
• Thank the person who gave this to you. (Danke to Loren Eaton of I Saw Lightning Fall.)
• Copy the logo and place it on your blog.
• Link to the person who nominated you.
• Tell up to six outrageous lies about yourself, and at least one outrageous truth - or - switch it around and tell six outrageous truths and one outrageous lie.
• Nominate seven "Creative Writers" who might have fun coming up with outrageous lies.
• Post links to the seven blogs you nominate.
• Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know you nominated them.
To the stories!
1. Before I was married, I dropped a desk onto my left hand, but was saved by the presence of my engagement ring.
2. I am descended from a long line of literary critics and philosophers. Also a pop art painter.
3. I was referred to on a recent library survey as "Old guy with earrings."
4. In 9th grade, I ruined a vacuum cleaner with cigarette smoke.
5. I always went to bed on time while growing up.
6. I think beer is the milk of the gods.
7. My father drove my mother 90 miles south so that I could be born.
The Nominations!
1. Phoenix at Res Ipsa Loquitur.
2. Lux at Repeat First Time Offender.
3. Josh at The Account of My Life and Times.
4. Suzanne at Tales of Extraordinary Orinariness.
5. B.J. Anderson at B J Anderson.
6. You
7. Yes, you.
Have at it, folks. Let me know what you think is truth and what is pyrite. The veil will be lifted . . . later.
I seem to write mostly sad pieces. I wonder why that is.
I came to a new realization of this last week when a co-worker and I were talking. She had come to the little reading on Friday. She mentioned in passing that someone had asked about the reading. "Oh, it was well written. B. just always writes sad stories."
So I thought to myself, 'really?' And I find that my most affective stories are depressive. It could be that this is a personality quirk, and yet I remember the bleak and barren wasteland-year of 10th or 11th grade when we read American Lit. The syllabus seemed crafted to draw us into melancholia.
And now, on the other side of the page, I wonder if dark is simply easier to write than light. If cynicism and disbelief are the weak answer to opposition. I know that cherishing bitterness and slights requires less effort and discomfort that seeking or granting forgiveness.
So I made a resolution. The next piece I take to be read will be upbeat. Promise.
It may not be the next piece I write, though.
I came to a new realization of this last week when a co-worker and I were talking. She had come to the little reading on Friday. She mentioned in passing that someone had asked about the reading. "Oh, it was well written. B. just always writes sad stories."
So I thought to myself, 'really?' And I find that my most affective stories are depressive. It could be that this is a personality quirk, and yet I remember the bleak and barren wasteland-year of 10th or 11th grade when we read American Lit. The syllabus seemed crafted to draw us into melancholia.
And now, on the other side of the page, I wonder if dark is simply easier to write than light. If cynicism and disbelief are the weak answer to opposition. I know that cherishing bitterness and slights requires less effort and discomfort that seeking or granting forgiveness.
So I made a resolution. The next piece I take to be read will be upbeat. Promise.
It may not be the next piece I write, though.
I'm taking part in a really cool psychology/neuroscience lab. Plus, I get paid for it. Score! So far, I've only done the training and practice run where I lay in a mock-up MRI and answered questions (to prove I could handle laying in the little tube for a prolonged period of time without freaking out). Those who go on to the next phase will get to take home a picture of their brain. I'm pretty pumped about that.
The participants will perform word puzzles while laying in an (active) MRI. A mirror above the participant's head is angled to show a projection screen behind the MRI. The projected image is reversed so as to appear correct in the mirror. Three words are displayed and the participant has 30 seconds to think of a fourth word that goes with each individual word.
An example?
House
District
High
The answer? School
School house
School district
High school.
Then the participant answers whether they found the answer through "search" (trying out different words) or "insight" (inspiration, flash of brilliance, random guess). All the while, the MRI will be scanning the brain for activity.
And I guess at the end this study/lab/sweet free brain picture will help point to the areas of the brain responsible for logic and . . . subconscious logic?
Oh, and by the way. Other than "crab" and "quick" and "wich" (ha ha), any ideas what other words go with "sand"? That one stumped me a few times.
The participants will perform word puzzles while laying in an (active) MRI. A mirror above the participant's head is angled to show a projection screen behind the MRI. The projected image is reversed so as to appear correct in the mirror. Three words are displayed and the participant has 30 seconds to think of a fourth word that goes with each individual word.
An example?
House
District
High
The answer? School
School house
School district
High school.
Then the participant answers whether they found the answer through "search" (trying out different words) or "insight" (inspiration, flash of brilliance, random guess). All the while, the MRI will be scanning the brain for activity.
And I guess at the end this study/lab/sweet free brain picture will help point to the areas of the brain responsible for logic and . . . subconscious logic?
Oh, and by the way. Other than "crab" and "quick" and "wich" (ha ha), any ideas what other words go with "sand"? That one stumped me a few times.
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