Metacognition: Cleaning the radioactive wasteland that I refer to as my room

As suggested by the title of this blog, my room has for as long as I can remember resembled a bit of a swamp-like toxic waste dump. Some--my mother, father, friends, relatives, pets, and passersby-- perhaps I should say all, see my room and infer that, based on the habitat in which I choose to live, I must be a pig; they are correct.

I have never been an organized person, but also, I have an incredible ability to ignore my surroundings no matter how similar they are to that of dumpster; therefore, I rarely have any urge or need to change my ways. However, on occasion, usually when I find myself with absolutely nothing--and I really mean NOTHING-- else to do I'll "tidy up" a bit. There also come those days I find myself cleaning because my mother walks over and stands just before the threshold of my doorway--she doesn't dare enter--and looks me in the eyes with this look that says, "There is something wrong with my daughter", on those days I take the time to "clean" as well.

The thing is, whenever I do take the time, or am guilted into straightening things up, I always find some sensation of self-satisfaction, pride that I can at least fake the appearance of a normal human being. So, that being the case, I wasn't surprised that after I finished organizing my entire room I felt good about myself. However, reaching that point was no "walk in the park", it was more like treading through a tar filled marsh in the rain--no exaggeration.

When I first started I seriouslly considered just piling everything into the usual spots--under my bed, behind my bed, behind my dresser, on top of my dresser, in my dresser, on the floor of my closet, on the top shelf of my closet, in the corner so that when anyone opens the door it is sheltered from sight--but i decided that that would COMPLETELY defeat the purpose of this assignment--plus I may have been a little bored as well.

Once I had pulled all the clothing, rapers, and molding remnants of food from their hiding places, I was more terrified than ever. First, because I knew I had a huge job ahead of me, but second because the sight made question whether my mother was right, that perhaps I was a little sick in the head. Somehow though I managed to plow along til it was done. The further I got into it the better I felt, and the more motivated I was to finish.

Once it was all done I did something that I haven't been able to see in years; my floor. No random articles of clothing, no miscellaneous trinkets, no rotting debris, just carpet--not a very clean one but whatever--it was great. Since then Ive had a couple days to experience my new habitat, I scored some points with mom and dad, and I gained a sense of satisfaction through the simplicity I had created for myself. I'll admit, it has been a couple days, and I am beginning to notice the junk accumulating once again, so I think it's fair to say that, while it was a worth while experience, It was not able to change me and my ways. Within the month I shall once again be the pig wandering the swamp-like toxic waste dump that I refer to as my room.

iMedia: Self Destruction

As do many of the videos on youtube, this one comes from an ordinary person not unlike the rest of us. As Mr. Allen stated today in class, youtube is one of the best things on the internet. It allows us to share a part of ourselves with the world in a way we never were capable of. In this clip a teenage girl, Melissa Rice, sings a short song that she wrote about her opinion of this world. The lyrics and tone of the piece really demonstrate how music has the ability to express emotions and convey ideas.

With music, Melissa expresses how she sees humans, as a whole, as self destructive in nature. Through her lyrics, she explains a couple key ideas that I really agree with. Melissa sings about how we "divide the world up in sections", which I believe represents how we group ourselves in classes based on our regions, our socioeconomic status, our race, our gender, our religion, our political status, and numerous other factors, and we fight one another to get to the top. When she says, "Let's chop down some trees and we'll print out a bunch of money" it's to convey our reckless greed, and how a lot of the time we either do not care about, or ignore the consequences.

Through her lyrics, Melissa also expresses how in this world if you don't have what's required, which is usually money, you wont get very far in this world, or at least not easily. Apart from the messages she's conveying, I'm also really interested in her use of religion in the end of the song. It's a uniting factor that connects a vast portion of the population, and because of that it brings power to the message.

Not only is this song beautiful because of Melissa's amazing voice, but the idea behind it as well. The idea, and the creative way it is expressed through brings us a truth that we must face if we are to better the world.

iMedia: Stephen Fry on Language

I will admit, when I came across this video the first thing that clutched at my attention was the sound of Stephen Fry's voice. His melodic tone, along with his English accent, add a musical aspect to the way in which he speaks; it's beautiful. However, once I had been enticed, my attention was held by the meaning behind his well-spoken words.

In this video Stephen Fry, an English actor, writer, and comedian, talks about language and how it can be, but is usually not, used to express ideas, feelings, and emotions. Using his wide range vocabulary to verbalize his point, Fry explains that, often, people who use extensive vocabulary are seen as pretentious, while those who express themselves in other ways are not.

Fry expresses his distaste in when people unnecessarily fuss over proper language use and claim it is for clarity's sake only; he believes, and I agree, that this is usually not the case. He explains that those people aren't in it to make beauty with their own words, but to put themselves above others by declaring their almighty knowledge of the English language. Fry makes a point that those who complain about "improper" language use don't understand the natural development of language. He then continues, getting at the idea of how many were opposed to those who came before us who used radical, or "improper", forms of their art only to become the artists, musicians, and authors that we recognize now as being the most talented of their kind.

I really relate to Stephen Fry's talk on language, because I too enjoy expressing myself through written and spoken words. I am in love with the way that when words are laced together intricately they can hold great meaning that if left untold would be lost. I also feel that if more people were able to better express themselves, and communicate with language, many conflicts would be avoided, and our society would advance exponentially. It goes back to the idea of how creativity brings us meaning and understanding. Our words are a form of our uniqueness that we can share with others. The ability to communicate creatively allows us to spread our own meaning and understanding with the people around us. The use of beautiful language can make this world a musical, colorful, and meaningful place; we would all benefit if we put more effort into our language on occasion.

Best of Week: Born Into Brothels

What struck me the most in class this past week was the documentary, Born Into Brothels. While I was aware of such issues in the world, seeing it with my own eyes always makes it real.

To be quite honest, the documentary was extremely sad, but what is even sadder to me is the fact that I have seen things like this before, and they do get my attention and make me want to do something, but I have always allowed their messages to slip to the back of my mind. If I'm letting these issues in the world be forgotten, then I know others are too; probably the majority of people in fact. I'd like to think of myself as a good person; I try to put others before myself when I can, but even I have been too selfish to take the time out of my daily life to give help to those who really need it.

I think part of it is definitely because we, as Americans, are sheltered from most of the world's biggest issues, but unfortunately, that's not the only reason. I believe that as animals on this earth, because that's what we really are, it is in our human nature to be selfish. It is our natural instinct to protect and provide for ourselves instead of worrying about others. There's no shark out in the ocean that chooses to spare a fish because it realizes the fish's mother just died and it's having a bad day. While we are not sharks, we are still animals, and I believe we were all born with similar instincts.

However, we are not just any animal. We have evolved to the point where we can override many of our animal instincts--clearly, or we would all be prancing around naked. We also have the ability to empathize with one another, which I believe is one of the biggest differences between us and other animals. Because of this, it is possible for us to think of how we can help others instead of ourselves for a change of pace, but I think we often default to our natural selfish instincts.

As animals, our lives revolve around eating, sleeping, and reproducing; we must constantly remind ourselves of what we can be, why we are different from other animals, and what we can accomplish to better the lives of others. I'm not saying we should sacrifice everything that we have, but we must be reasonable. We must use our evolved brains and realize that most of what we have we do not really need. We must take the time out of our daily lives to not only empathize, but to put ourselves to use and do something selfless in order to help others.

Metacognition: Scary Story Contest

As some of you may know, GBS's literary magazine, Calliope, was holding a scary story contest for the Halloween issue. Being in the class of the teacher who runs Calliope, I found myself really wrapped up in trying to write something terrifying. Okay... I'll admit, getting my story published and being able to build up my college application may have been a motivating factor.

At first I thought it would be a piece of cake. I thought that I could make up whatever random B.S. I wanted and mold it into the form of a scary story; I was wrong. I started out with a story that I thought had a lot of potential, but then realized I had no clue where I was going with it. Usually that would be no issue; it's normal for me to start writing something with no idea of where I'll take it. In this case however, I realized that I could easily write the beginning of a scary story, but I couldn't manage to produce a satisfying ending.

I wrote the beginnings of at least four stories, deciding after a day that each one was cra... no good. I couldn't seem to get the scary story cliches out of my head. Everything I wrote seemed to fall into the same typical tone and predictable plot. That is, until I reread Edgar Allen Poe's Black Cat. The idea of feeding on others' creativity in order to jump start your own really helped me. In Poe's story, he allows the reader to get inside his head and realize how sick it is. He also expresses the idea of losing control of yourself; to me, it was terrifying.

I then began a new story, the one I would finally stick with. I decided to incorporate my brother's experience with epilepsy. I told him my story idea and then asked him to describe some of the things that went on in his brain when he would have a seizure, so that I could write a story in which the reader could get inside someone's head who has actually lost control.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't smooth sailing after that. I figured out what I was going to write about and where the story would go, but then it took me days to beat a rough draft out of myself. I got it all down on paper thinking that most of it was terrible, but that there were a few parts that made the thing worth it. I then rewrote it and shared it with my family to get their advice, and then rewrote it again. Finally, I finished it, and it's way better than I thought it would be.

Writing the scary story made me realize I must not underestimate the goals I set out to accomplish, because when I do I end up unbelievably frustrated with myself. I also found that it can be well worth your time to stick with something even if it's taking you way longer than expected. Even after I finished the story I didn't think it was very good. It took until someone read it aloud to me that I actually felt some sense of accomplishment.

Metacognition: Blog Posts

So, here I am. I've thoroughly read the blog prompt, five times in fact, and I finally feel as though I have an understanding of what I'm about to write.

First though, I find it necessary to look through some of my fellow classmates' posts in order to build up my confidence in what I'm about to say. Unfortunately, this part of the process sometimes backfires and I end up reading something so well written, and so unique, that I become upset with myself for not having thought of it first.

However, after a moment I realize that, as we have discussed in class, we must soak up the creativity of others in order to feed our own. Without looking through some of the other blog posts I probably would have written some lame response about how I sit down in creative writing class everyday and come up with a bizarre story, which I rarely ever end up completing anyway. While I kind of feel guilty doing it, reading other peoples' posts before I go to write my own helps me loosen up and let my voice come through when it does come time to start writing. Instead of writing some short, formal response to the blog prompt in hopes of getting a passing grade, I read what my classmates have come up with, and it actually sparks my interest enough to make me want to put some effort into it.

I must admit, every time I have sat down to write a blog I've thought to myself, "Okay now. What's the quickest and easiest way to get this done?" Surprisingly though, each time I find myself actually becoming interested. I end up stumbling upon all the thoughts in my head that I never knew even existed. I like the fact that each time I am able to surprise myself with the quality of my ideas.

I do, however, wish that for once I could not be such a procrastinator and remind myself that these blog posts aren't so bad after all. That way I might actually start them earlier and get myself some sleep instead of cutting my posts short due to a lack of mental energy.

Best of Week: True Understanding

The idea I have found to be most important this week from class is the idea of proving your understanding through communication. This idea has been pointed out to me at different times during my life, and each time it reminds me to learn to truly understand, not just to be able to repeat or regurgitate for a test.

This concept of true understanding makes me take a look at the things in life that I think I know, and question myself as to how well I know those things. I have found myself looking back on different concepts that I learned in the past, and testing myself and my memory by trying to reexplain those concepts to myself in my own head. For example, today in class we talked about Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried. I remember enjoying this book more than any other book I have ever read in school, and so during class I found myself looking back on the messages from that book and trying to articulate them to myself. What I found brings me to my next point.

I realized that I had not forgotten the key ideas behind O'Brien's book, and I am also sure that this is because how interested I was in the book. Like in Alda's essay about Feynman, Feynman only worked on what he found to be interesting, and because of this he was always able to communicate the different scientific concepts that he studied. I recognize now that when I am truly passionate about something, I tend to make the effort to understand it better, and therefore, it has a bigger impact on my life. Knowing this leads me to believe that if I pushed myself to find something interesting in each of my school subjects, I may just be able to become passionate enough about them that I absorb more of an understanding about them. This will not only improve my grades, but also enhance my true understanding of a broad range of topics, widen my horizons, and maybe even change my perspective on the world.

Connection: Alda Essay and My Grandfather

In Alan Alda’s essay, Pass the Plate, Mr. Feynam, Alda explains how he admires Feynman for not only being curious and finding something in the world that he truly loved, but also for loving that something so much that he felt it absolutely necessary to share it with others in a way that they could understand it. Feynman’s heart belonged to science. His intrigue led him to make many discoveries, but his love for the subject gave him the need to share it with the rest of the world. In Alda’s essay he explains that, “When [Feynman] was talking to ordinary people with no training in physics, he never fell back on his authority as a great thinker. He felt that if he couldn’t say it in everyday words, he probably didn’t understand it himself”. What Alda means is that even though Feynam had great intelligence, he was amazing because he took the time to help others understand scientific concepts by talking to them in the manner that they were accustomed to.

In so many ways Feynman reminds me of my grandfather, but in one way, they are very different. My grandpa was a nuclear physicist at Argonne National Laboratory, and he was the director of the high energy physics department there for twenty five years, in which time he developed their accelerator. He is an unbelievably intelligent man, and he himself was always quite interested in Feynam, yet I have noticed over the years that he has always lacked the ability to explain concepts to those who are not trained in the field of physics.

While my mom and her five sisters were growing up, he devoted all of his time to his work; his work was truly the love of his life. Even now, after he retired, it is obvious that he hasn’t given up his interest in science; he clearly never will. Sadly, he does not have the same talent for communicating his scientific knowledge that Feynman did; however, his understanding of it is unmistakable.

I remember one year when I found myself sitting with my grandpa near the Christmas tree, desperately trying to understand the scientific ideas he was attempting to articulate. I remember afterwards how my aunt came up to me and said, “So I saw that grandpa caught ya earlier for one of his science lectures. Poor girl.” She said it jokingly, but it made me sad because I had realized that my grandfather had a hard time explaining science to those who were not familiar with it, and that people simply gave up trying to understand him. In fact, they avoided getting into the subject with him altogether. If someone could simply hear and understand one bit of the information that fascinated him so much, it very likely would have kept them listening.

It wasn’t until pretty recently, last year in fact, that I finally reaped the benefits of my grandpa’s immense knowledge. I had found myself in a tough spot in school in the one class that, out of anybody, he would understand the most, physics. My parents pushed me to go to him for help, and when I finally did he told me something. He said to me that he knew he what he was talking about when it came to physics, but that he also knew that he wasn’t a very good teacher. I agreed to be patient, and so it began; he taught himself to teach, and I taught myself to listen.

The first thing he did was take my extra physics textbook home with him to read. When we met up again he had read nearly the entire book, and told me that he had a better understanding of how the school was teaching me the subject. We then sat down at my computer in front of my physics webassign. It was right before the final exam and I knew if I wanted to get a good grade in the class I would have to do very well on the final. Together we went through problem after problem. He would never simply give me the answer; instead he would help me figure out which formula to use and how to use it. I found it hilarious that we came across a couple problems that even my nuclear physicist grandfather couldn’t solve.

Before the experience, I had thought that trying to learn from my grandpa would be an agonizing failure, but after it was all over I had gained much more than I could have ever expected. Not only did I actually know how to solve physics problems, but I understood how and why everything worked the way it did. Because we were both patient, we were both able to learn from the experience. Not only that, but It also strengthened my relationship with grandpa.

The best feeling in the end though, was how undoubtedly happy it had made him to have helped me become more interested in science. It had given him a chance to put his knowledge to use again, and like Feynman, allowed him to give the priceless gift of understanding.