First: rock, pen, bunny, moon, seashell
I have found these blogs to be helpful with my learning this semester. I have always thought that the goal of college courses was not necessarily to learn rote lists of things but to develop my skills as a writer, reader, and thinker. With this in mind, I have definitely improved my understanding of how my memory works although I should mention that this course also hints to new questions.
I liked examining the different memory devices of Camillo, Bruno, Lull and Fludd, but I think their attempts to aid in remembering fall well short of their goals. I would say that Camillo and later Fludd seem to have hit a chord with me being that their devices were based on individual interpretation of an environment. I kept these designs in mind in choosing the Haufbrau for my musey-room, and I truly believe that knowledge of a physical space is just as important in shaping memories as mental space. But, what I hope to explain in my presentation is that there are fixed items to call memories in the physical space as well as moveable parts which would be the people who come and go from the physical space. This allows for unlimited combinations of loci to store different information without putting all the emphasis on the memory on one specific item.
I also liked the Ong text because it alowed me to draw conclusions from various articles of literary theory in terms of memory. I took Lit 300 a few semesters ago, and I found it very interesting how Ong drew in the work of Derrida and the symbology of language. My interpretation of this analysis lends not to individual symbols but the interaction between multiple pre-existing mental images and symbols for actual items. While I like the image of the chinese boxes or russian dolls, I believe mental symbology exists in my mind more like a cooler door at the hauf plastered with bumper stickers. All the information exists on one planar surface, and each piece is connected to every other piece through a series of movements around and through the other pieces.
I was very impressed with all the presentations this semester, and I think everyone should be commended on the success they exhibited in terms of their ability to remember a lot of information. I liked how many of the musey-room presentations displayed not only reflections of actual places but drew inspiration from imagined sources.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Musey-Room: Haufbrau edition
For my final presentation I chose to build a model of the Haufbrau, or atleast a partial one and try to explain how this space operates as my musey room. I described in an earlier post how I organized the muses in this environment which was merely a spark of inspiration for my most recent project.
In considering this project, I first thought I would make a make of the entire town and try to fill in parts of it that were significant to me. Not only did this task seem extremely difficult to approach, but was also found to be time consuming, complex, to intricate to explain in ten minutes. The Haufbrau proved similarly difficult because of the detail and abundance of information contained in the space.
While the structure is real and tangible, the memories and information that it enlivens in my mind is almost inexplicable without being there and allowing me to slowly reveal. Something as simple as playing a game of pool brings on waves of memories that require non-linear explination because of all the memorable games and conversations that surround that one spot in the bar. For instance, I could tell you about how to shoot a certain shot by recalling previous games I played. Or, I could tell you about a conversation I had about fixing a car I had with Stillman. Or, about how to gamble at the game. I could even talk to you about music, and how I got a job one time by playing a guy on that table.
I can accomplish similar feats with just about any point in the bar. For instance, if someone asked me what a palindrome is I will simple say, "rats live on no evil star," just as is written in the women bathroom stall. In fact, there has been years of advice and information painted over in both bathrooms. Same with the words carved in the table tops.
Every year they put out one new table and store the old one away somewhere. The bar used to be the primary hangout for college kids and the graduating class of each year got a table. Many of the old tables still hang on the ceiling and walls proudly displaying the names of ghosts. It is always funny when some stranger comes in trying to find the name they etched years before. The usual question to ask is how much the hauf has changed, and the answer is usually, "not much." And, chances are if you ask who they knew there you can trace from then to now through about 2 or 3 people.
The only problem I can see with this memory system might be that it doesn't only exist in the concrete environment of the physical world but as a semblance of individual consciousnesses. Each person holds bits and pieces of the puzzle which comprise all of the knowledge in world. In order to know everything, you must first meet and know everyone.
In considering this project, I first thought I would make a make of the entire town and try to fill in parts of it that were significant to me. Not only did this task seem extremely difficult to approach, but was also found to be time consuming, complex, to intricate to explain in ten minutes. The Haufbrau proved similarly difficult because of the detail and abundance of information contained in the space.
While the structure is real and tangible, the memories and information that it enlivens in my mind is almost inexplicable without being there and allowing me to slowly reveal. Something as simple as playing a game of pool brings on waves of memories that require non-linear explination because of all the memorable games and conversations that surround that one spot in the bar. For instance, I could tell you about how to shoot a certain shot by recalling previous games I played. Or, I could tell you about a conversation I had about fixing a car I had with Stillman. Or, about how to gamble at the game. I could even talk to you about music, and how I got a job one time by playing a guy on that table.
I can accomplish similar feats with just about any point in the bar. For instance, if someone asked me what a palindrome is I will simple say, "rats live on no evil star," just as is written in the women bathroom stall. In fact, there has been years of advice and information painted over in both bathrooms. Same with the words carved in the table tops.
Every year they put out one new table and store the old one away somewhere. The bar used to be the primary hangout for college kids and the graduating class of each year got a table. Many of the old tables still hang on the ceiling and walls proudly displaying the names of ghosts. It is always funny when some stranger comes in trying to find the name they etched years before. The usual question to ask is how much the hauf has changed, and the answer is usually, "not much." And, chances are if you ask who they knew there you can trace from then to now through about 2 or 3 people.
The only problem I can see with this memory system might be that it doesn't only exist in the concrete environment of the physical world but as a semblance of individual consciousnesses. Each person holds bits and pieces of the puzzle which comprise all of the knowledge in world. In order to know everything, you must first meet and know everyone.
Modern Oral Tradition: A story of a story
I am a story teller. Somehow over the ages that term has come to mean liar. I do not agree unless you are a liar who also happens to tell good stories, at which point, who cares! I would much rather here an interesting, false story than a broing, true one. Well... unless the story is actually meant to hurt someone.
Anyway, so one day my dad decided he was going to clean the basement and "get rid of all the junk" (ha! yeah right). Usually these projects involve him taking things down, looking through them all, putting them back where they were, and sweeping the floor. Well, he had picked up a stereo from a friend of his so he could listen to his records while he worked on his cars (as if he ever had time for that) and since he stores all his cars in their daylight, 4 car-garage, basement he had to pull out all his records to see if the record player worked. It didn't, but he re-discovered his old record player buried on a shelf and tried it out. It still worked! And, my dad got real excited when he found his favorite album from high school: Montrose by Montrose.
He was like a little kid as he dropped the needle on the song Bad Motor Scooter! Now, I have never seen my father dance, and I don't know if that's what you could call what I saw, but that's really the only way to describe it. I just laughed and started upstairs and when I opened the door to the kitchen my mom stopped washing the dishes, stood stock still and said, "Montrose, Montrose, Bad Motor Scooter."
I asked her, "What?"
She said, "That song... Montrose, Montrose, Bad Motor Scooter," and then explained to me how when she and my dad were just out of high school they took a trip to the beach and the eight-track player jammed. They listened to that song on repeat for the 4 hours to the beach, the entire weekend they were there, and the 4 hour drive back. When my dad finally got it unjammed my mom took it and threw it away!
After hearing this story, I knew exactly what I was getting my dad for christmas.
Anyway, so one day my dad decided he was going to clean the basement and "get rid of all the junk" (ha! yeah right). Usually these projects involve him taking things down, looking through them all, putting them back where they were, and sweeping the floor. Well, he had picked up a stereo from a friend of his so he could listen to his records while he worked on his cars (as if he ever had time for that) and since he stores all his cars in their daylight, 4 car-garage, basement he had to pull out all his records to see if the record player worked. It didn't, but he re-discovered his old record player buried on a shelf and tried it out. It still worked! And, my dad got real excited when he found his favorite album from high school: Montrose by Montrose.
He was like a little kid as he dropped the needle on the song Bad Motor Scooter! Now, I have never seen my father dance, and I don't know if that's what you could call what I saw, but that's really the only way to describe it. I just laughed and started upstairs and when I opened the door to the kitchen my mom stopped washing the dishes, stood stock still and said, "Montrose, Montrose, Bad Motor Scooter."
I asked her, "What?"
She said, "That song... Montrose, Montrose, Bad Motor Scooter," and then explained to me how when she and my dad were just out of high school they took a trip to the beach and the eight-track player jammed. They listened to that song on repeat for the 4 hours to the beach, the entire weekend they were there, and the 4 hour drive back. When my dad finally got it unjammed my mom took it and threw it away!
After hearing this story, I knew exactly what I was getting my dad for christmas.
Song from childhood
Me and my band recently played an 80's tribute at the Filling Station. We had a great time but the subject of this blog is about the selection of the songs we were going to play.
Are group is rather interesting in age range and each of our tastes in music is surprising different from the others. Dan is in his 30's, Eric is just 24, and I am coming up quick on 28. This means we all experienced the 80's in different ways. I remember rocking out to all the cheesey tunes in my mom's chevy corsica, Dan was in school, and Eric was a baby so his knowledge is all in retrospect. We entertained playing a lot of different songs from Heuy Lewis and the News, the Police, The Ramones, and numerous others, but here is the list we settled on:
Melt with You by Modern English
Monkey Gone to Heaven by the Pixies
In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins
Tomorrow Wendy by Concrete Blonde
Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2
We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel
What surprised me the most about these songs is that I remembered the words to most of them and I haven't heard them in years. Even weirder was all the other songs we looked at that I knew atleast partial words to, and I spent a considerable amount of time reminiscing about my childhood and other memories these songs triggered.
For instance, when I was seven I could not stop listening the album Invisible Touch by Genesis. I started playing the songs from the album, as I got distracted, and found I knew almost every line of every song. My mom had thrown the tape out when I was about 8 or 9 and I hadn't heard it since.
Immediately after listening to the album, my mind went back to when I was that age, just dancing around my parents house with my walkman tape-player full volume. It reminds me of a story my mom told me one time which I will relate in my next blog.
Are group is rather interesting in age range and each of our tastes in music is surprising different from the others. Dan is in his 30's, Eric is just 24, and I am coming up quick on 28. This means we all experienced the 80's in different ways. I remember rocking out to all the cheesey tunes in my mom's chevy corsica, Dan was in school, and Eric was a baby so his knowledge is all in retrospect. We entertained playing a lot of different songs from Heuy Lewis and the News, the Police, The Ramones, and numerous others, but here is the list we settled on:
Melt with You by Modern English
Monkey Gone to Heaven by the Pixies
In the Air Tonight by Phil Collins
Tomorrow Wendy by Concrete Blonde
Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2
We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel
What surprised me the most about these songs is that I remembered the words to most of them and I haven't heard them in years. Even weirder was all the other songs we looked at that I knew atleast partial words to, and I spent a considerable amount of time reminiscing about my childhood and other memories these songs triggered.
For instance, when I was seven I could not stop listening the album Invisible Touch by Genesis. I started playing the songs from the album, as I got distracted, and found I knew almost every line of every song. My mom had thrown the tape out when I was about 8 or 9 and I hadn't heard it since.
Immediately after listening to the album, my mind went back to when I was that age, just dancing around my parents house with my walkman tape-player full volume. It reminds me of a story my mom told me one time which I will relate in my next blog.
My Bedroom: complications of moving
I recently moved into a new house and actually considered utilizing it for the final presentation of my musey-room until I decided it didn't hold enough meaning yet. Anyway, I wanted to relate a few stories I have accrued so far which have tested my memory.
For starters, I am usually very good at remembering where I put things in bags and boxes, but what became puzzling was the why of where things ended up. For instance, my toothpaste made it in with the dishes but my tooth brush got in with the other toiletries. Why this differentiation for two things that are requisite of eachother? Well, I missed the toothpaste on the first pass, so I simply threw it in with an open box of dishes. Sounds pretty easy to explain.
But, what if someone else would have had to unpack my stuff? They may have been confused when they found socks and scissorrs in the same pocket of the luggage bag which contained my dress shirts and work boots. I think it would be funny to watch someone try to navigate through all the boxes to re-assemble all my stuff to a logical order in a room. And the strangest part was that I didn't unpack for almost a week, and yet all the strange packing choices I made still stuck in my brain. Car care bled into library, and school and music got all mixed up being that they are used more than almost anything else. The only items that retained a measurable amount of segregation in the move were those from the kitchen.
Another test of my memory in my new environment came when I miss placed my coffee for about 20 minutes. I made the coffee, took two sips and set it down. Then I walked away to get ready to run to school. (incidently, this is why I have been consistantly late for everything lately) Inevitably, I walked out of my room and realized I had to change over my laundry, and then it was back to my room to find my sunglasses. Then, it became, "Where the hell is my coffee! I just had it?" So, it was back to the coffee maker, open the fridge for milk, check the bathroom (no i didn't go in there), living room (don't see it from where I'm standing), back to the kitchen, laundry?... nope. humm... (insert appropriate curse word) Check the time and now I'm late. (explitive) Time? Oh yeah! I had checked the time when I was sitting in my recliner in the living room and I set my coffee on the floor so it wouldn't spill on my computer while I checked today's weather. Bob's your Uncle, grab the joe, and out the door.
For starters, I am usually very good at remembering where I put things in bags and boxes, but what became puzzling was the why of where things ended up. For instance, my toothpaste made it in with the dishes but my tooth brush got in with the other toiletries. Why this differentiation for two things that are requisite of eachother? Well, I missed the toothpaste on the first pass, so I simply threw it in with an open box of dishes. Sounds pretty easy to explain.
But, what if someone else would have had to unpack my stuff? They may have been confused when they found socks and scissorrs in the same pocket of the luggage bag which contained my dress shirts and work boots. I think it would be funny to watch someone try to navigate through all the boxes to re-assemble all my stuff to a logical order in a room. And the strangest part was that I didn't unpack for almost a week, and yet all the strange packing choices I made still stuck in my brain. Car care bled into library, and school and music got all mixed up being that they are used more than almost anything else. The only items that retained a measurable amount of segregation in the move were those from the kitchen.
Another test of my memory in my new environment came when I miss placed my coffee for about 20 minutes. I made the coffee, took two sips and set it down. Then I walked away to get ready to run to school. (incidently, this is why I have been consistantly late for everything lately) Inevitably, I walked out of my room and realized I had to change over my laundry, and then it was back to my room to find my sunglasses. Then, it became, "Where the hell is my coffee! I just had it?" So, it was back to the coffee maker, open the fridge for milk, check the bathroom (no i didn't go in there), living room (don't see it from where I'm standing), back to the kitchen, laundry?... nope. humm... (insert appropriate curse word) Check the time and now I'm late. (explitive) Time? Oh yeah! I had checked the time when I was sitting in my recliner in the living room and I set my coffee on the floor so it wouldn't spill on my computer while I checked today's weather. Bob's your Uncle, grab the joe, and out the door.
Monday, April 16, 2012
a question
If it is possible to remember everything and everything is a merely a reflection of things that have already occured, aren't we just trying to remember all the different names and re-orderings of the same things?
A ramble of thoughts:
Humans can only exist in an extremely specific situation. For instance, there are millions of degrees of temperature possible in the universe and we can only survive more than a short duration in a range of about a 100. Everything we do is subject to phenomena of the universe such as gravity. Species may change and evolve on earth randomly, but this whole world is such a delicate balance I don't know how humans ever made it this far. If you throw on top of that the developement of consciousness, I am surprised I can even remember my name.
A ramble of thoughts:
Humans can only exist in an extremely specific situation. For instance, there are millions of degrees of temperature possible in the universe and we can only survive more than a short duration in a range of about a 100. Everything we do is subject to phenomena of the universe such as gravity. Species may change and evolve on earth randomly, but this whole world is such a delicate balance I don't know how humans ever made it this far. If you throw on top of that the developement of consciousness, I am surprised I can even remember my name.
Why kids climb trees
I was just thinking about a theory I have about human beings as children and why they have a prevailing desire to climb trees. I promise there is a relevant point in here somewhere.
A few years ago I started thinking about how kids always seem to be climbing things, and I think it is a hold over from our recent eveolutionary ancestors. If you think about it, chimpanzees sleep in trees and use elevation to escape from predators. I believe the desire to climb, especially as a child, is inbourne and necessary to a child's natural ability to survive. Human legs take longer to develope than their arms, so naturally climbing seems a more resonable response to the threat of predation than running.
However, and here's my point, even before we can climb we can cry. While climbing may appear to be the first line of defence, it's not. We come out screaming. Crying is therefore the first form of communication humans are equipt with, and strangely wailing is a completely unconscious behavior. As a child all one has do to communicate a desire is cry. "I'm hungry. I'm tired. etc." Cry, cry, cry. But when does physical and cognitive ability kick in and make desire of and being given the desired not enough?
As far as I know, science still can't explain how humans develope in terms of speech formation. There are theories as far as cognitive function being a product of emulation, but the maze that is our brain starts the process of langauge formation unconsciously. Incidently, some of what Dr. Sexon has been saying is finally sinking in, because to learn we must remember and that means we are remembering things before we are conscious of it. The pursuit of memories we made before those in our present consciounsess allows us to remember seems interesting, but I think in order to remember those things we would have to de-evolve our brains back to the state of the lost memories. I think there is probably a connection somewhere that we all have, and that once connected won't allow us to regress. I would guess the key connection resides somewhere between all the senses and the unconscious.
I just want to add what an older friend of mine told me about drinking alcohol. He said that people unconsciously desire to be children again, and that drinking basically reduces your cognitive ability to that of a six year old. I think he may have been on to something...
A few years ago I started thinking about how kids always seem to be climbing things, and I think it is a hold over from our recent eveolutionary ancestors. If you think about it, chimpanzees sleep in trees and use elevation to escape from predators. I believe the desire to climb, especially as a child, is inbourne and necessary to a child's natural ability to survive. Human legs take longer to develope than their arms, so naturally climbing seems a more resonable response to the threat of predation than running.
However, and here's my point, even before we can climb we can cry. While climbing may appear to be the first line of defence, it's not. We come out screaming. Crying is therefore the first form of communication humans are equipt with, and strangely wailing is a completely unconscious behavior. As a child all one has do to communicate a desire is cry. "I'm hungry. I'm tired. etc." Cry, cry, cry. But when does physical and cognitive ability kick in and make desire of and being given the desired not enough?
As far as I know, science still can't explain how humans develope in terms of speech formation. There are theories as far as cognitive function being a product of emulation, but the maze that is our brain starts the process of langauge formation unconsciously. Incidently, some of what Dr. Sexon has been saying is finally sinking in, because to learn we must remember and that means we are remembering things before we are conscious of it. The pursuit of memories we made before those in our present consciounsess allows us to remember seems interesting, but I think in order to remember those things we would have to de-evolve our brains back to the state of the lost memories. I think there is probably a connection somewhere that we all have, and that once connected won't allow us to regress. I would guess the key connection resides somewhere between all the senses and the unconscious.
I just want to add what an older friend of mine told me about drinking alcohol. He said that people unconsciously desire to be children again, and that drinking basically reduces your cognitive ability to that of a six year old. I think he may have been on to something...
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