Consuming and Creating: Part 6: Screen Time

Yep I'm back on this subject again. I have several nieces and nephews and I have seen all of them over the holidays. Screen time seems like a big issue parents have to make decisions on. Especially in this technology saturated society. Watching movies, TV shows and youtube videos, and other people playing computer games. Playing computer/tablet games. All of those things are part of screen time. But I think there is a difference, a better and best if you will.
All the types of screen time above are recreational, but I wouldn't say they are all necessarily consuming activities. I think playing games like mahjong or tetris or candy crusher can be an exercise for your mind. Sandbox building games like minecraft and terraria let you be creative. And watching other people play games can build relationships. I suppose watching movies or TV shows can do that as well. Of course all these have to be done in moderation or they can become mind numbing. Basically I'm just saying that screen time can vary a lot, and some is actually very creative. Screen time isn't always consumption even when it is a game.
After all I normally spend quite a bit of time in front of the computer, writing and artwork.

Honorable War Wounds

I became enthralled by Brian Jacques' Redwall series when I was about in third grade, and really liked them for a long time.
In one of them, (Salamandastron maybe) they talk about having Honorable War Wounds. I remember loving the phrase and using it frequently with my brothers in reference to scratches and bruises we obtained from run of the mill playing.
The past couple of weeks I have been spending a lot of time with some of my nephews and we have done a fair amount of roughhousing. I have a bruise on my hand, my heel and my foot. The one on my foot is the most painful, but you can barely see it. I find it a tad disappointing. Why have Honorable War Wounds if no one can even tell!
Although I suppose there are sometimes that not showing your bruises is helpful.

Antecedent Confusion

I am Not a grammarian. Is that a word? Anyway, I am not an expert on grammar. Never have been... except maybe for a week in seventh grade where we learned grammar rules and I thought it was so easy, and I understood it. Then I took the test, and I never did recover that knowledge.
Anyway. I'm writing a book and I had a friend help with the read through (among other people). She was an English major in college and she knows her grammar. At least a lot better than I do.
Anyway she is always writing "fix this, there is antecedent confusion." Or something like that. Meaning the pronouns are not clear. And now I finally get to the point.
Since she (meaning the before mentioned English major friend) has started writing that (meaning "antecedent confusion") I have noticed how often in writing, and conversation antecedent confusion actually occurs.
Like that last sentence for instance.
Sometimes I just want to stop and say "Antecedent Confusion!" but instead I settle for:
Wait who? Where are you talking about? Are you talking about cookies?

Historic versus Cultural

Japan

A couple of years ago I wrote about how different Nativities can be. I was noticing it again this year, but a different aspect of it. No one really knows what that scene looked like so long ago, and yet there are thousands, if not millions of representations of it. My Mom collects nativities, and many of them are from different countries. I just find it fascinating how even though we do know something of the culture and dress of the original Nativity, people have put there own culture into the Nativity sets they make. Because ultimately they aren't trying to represent a historically accurate event but they are putting themselves into the situation of the Christchild's birth. Or at least that's how I see it. So all nativities show truth, show the reality of God in a culture, in a home, in a life.

Philippines

Honduras (we think)

Conversations: Part Two: The Good Ones

I am a sucker for good conversations, and I think about them frequently, (check out Part One). I have even noticed that I get grumpy if I haven't had a good conversation for some a couple days. This leads to the obvious question: What makes a good conversation?
For me it takes a few things.
1) It's got to be back and forth. It doesn't have to be 50-50 but it has to be close, and both people have to participate in the meat of the conversation actually sharing opinions/feelings/ideas.
2)Content. This one is tricky. There seem to be about four types of conversations. People talk about people, places, things, or ideas. Each can revolve around stories that apply to the subject at hand. Some conversations can combine these things. My favorite is when ideas are involved, but other than that I am usually pretty flexible. As in I like conversations talking about how different people react to a certain situation and why, but I also enjoy talking about how things can affect culture. Whatever, and there are a lot of other examples, but I get bored or I just don't feel fulfilled after a conversation if it was only a rehash of people someone has met, movies someone as seen, places someone went or things people like to do.
OK. I guess I will take it back, it only takes two things for me to like a conversation. Although if I get to learn something that is a bonus.
What I find fascinating and also depressing is it seems impossible to have a good conversation with most people. I realize that many people just don't talk ideas but I have found that those who do usually need a lot of time to warm up to the subject or warm up to the person. As in you have to be really close friends to talk ideas. . .
Which begs another question, or at least it does to me. Why are people so reticent to talk ideas? Is there something in our culture that suggests it's not appropriate? (So is this common in most cultures?) Or are people just too curled up to talk?

Retold Fairytales and Superheros

As many people may have noticed retold fairytales and superhero stories have recently become popular in media. It seems to me that the reason for this is the same in both cases.
There is something immensely comfortable in hearing/seeing/reading a story that you are familiar with. Why else would little kids love to read the same books over and over again, and often seem far more likely to pick up a book about a character they know (The Bernstein Bears, Clifford) then a book with characters they don't know. For one it's easier to get into a book with a character that you already know and care about, even if the character isn't quite the same. Also, when you know that Cinderella will meet Prince Charming you know what to expect. And that works no matter if Cinderella is really a princess named Cinderella (Disney), is the daughter of a courtier named Danielle (Ever After) or is a cyborg named Cinder (Cinder).
Then you can add to the comfort of a story or character you know the excitement that comes with the twist or new view of what you thought you had already known. It allows something old and worn to become clever and surprising. It is like the best of both worlds, familiar but also new. Is it any wonder these two genres are so popular?

Rebellious

I drove down the street a couple of days ago and saw some roadkill, and then smelled the potent aroma of skunk. My first thought was a sigh. Ahhh, skunk cabbage. Skunk cabbage for those who aren't familiar is a wetland plant that looks like rhubarb but smells almost exactly like skunks when you break/bruise the leaves. I remember playing with them a lot as a kid. The smell brought back happy memories. Most people don't smile at the smell of skunks. But I do, and I did. When I was little I remember specifically talking to my peers telling them I liked the smell of skunk. Mostly I think I was motivated by the fact that everyone hated it so I had to like it.
The same thing happened in my sophmore year of High School. We were assigned to read Moby Dick and everyone was like "This is terrible, I can't believe we have to read this. It's so boring." Everyone hated it so I had to like it. And really I thought it was pretty good although there is a chapter or two that it could have gone without.
Perhaps I'm a tad rebellious. . .
Probably because of situations like this my parents would tell me that I was a rebel, and I thought of myself as such. Later, one of my mission companions, told me that I wasn't rebellious at all. I tend to be pretty obedient, so I guess she was right but it left me a little confused.
I guess I'm rebellious about somethings and not about others. . . Maybe I'm still confused.

Words

Consuming and Creating: Part 5: Opposites

When I was little, opposites were a big deal. Stop and Go. Over and Under. I'm sure you can think of some.
I have heard someone speak about choice. He said that although the opposite of choice is often given as no choice, what really destroys choice is a lack of consequences. If no matter what you choose the same thing happens your choice doesn't matter. So it would appear the opposites don't really matter it's the antithesis of choice that can affect things.
It made me think about creating. The first thing that comes to mind when I try to think of the opposite of creation is destruction. But perhaps the worst kind of destruction, the kind that destroys creation, is apathy. Or maybe apathy isn't the right word, but not wanting to create, having no desire, or need or anything that leads to creating things. Consuming can cause apathy. It's easier to consume than create so why not just consume? So in someways maybe consumption is the antithesis of  creating, (although it is not in others see Part 2.)
And maybe opposites are not nearly as important as we thought when we were 5.

I'm Not an Artist

Growing up I had quite a couple of friends who were artists. They doodled during class and drew in their free time. Art was their life.
That was never me. I've always liked art but I've never considered myself an artist.
Right now I am working as an artist, and it is weird. I have been enjoying it so far but I'm not very good, so sometimes I'm like "why would you want to pay for my work?"
Maybe I should readjust my definition of "artist" but that is difficult because although I appreciate art and enjoy doing it I still see it as a little useless.
Quite a conundrum. Maybe I should go eat an apple.

Research

Author's are smart.... at least good authors. They may not know a lot of things but they know how to research. I've heard some of my favorite authors talk about research. In a podcast Brandon Sanderson talked about how much research he did on canals and how they effect the economy for his trilogy Mistborn. This surprised me because when I read them canals weren't a big part of the book. And yet as my sister said the other day, "if the author gets it right the reader doesn't even notice, but if the author messes up it takes you out of the book." At the back of Sarah Eden's books she often writes about the research she did for that book in particular. She seems to get it spot on.
For my novel (that I am still working on), I have researched wolf biology and culture, human hunter gatherers, telling time at night, how far a person can walk in a day, desert animals and plants,  second language acquisition, to name the majority. And it is a fantasy world. That's why historical fiction is so intimidating to me.

Fred, My Head and Me (and oh yeah, my subconscious)

Recently I have realized that I think I see conversations different than many people.

It rubs me the wrong way when people say things like "it was so nice to see you" when I walk out the door, when I had been in the same room for an hour and they never once talked to me. 

The other day someone asked if the seat next to me was available. When I said it was, they sat, introduced themselves and then promptly turned away from me, and didn't say anything else. When they left they said "it was so nice to meet you."

I wanted to say "I don't think we met."

I am not saying these people are at fault, in fact they were just being polite. But I think that it bothers me so much because words are more of a contract to me than perhaps they are to others. 

Conversations almost feel  like a contract to me.

Here is a general but fictitious conversation. Obviously silly because how can I know what my subconscious is thinking because then it wouldn't be sub....

Fred: Hi. Are you saving this seat?

Me: No feel free. 

Me Head: Now I will have to talk to someone.

Fred: What's your name?

Me: Rebecca. What's yours?

My Head: Hurry! What else can I ask?

Fred: Fred. So what are you doing right now?

Me: Working. How about you?

My Subconscious: You care enough to ask a question, you must also care enough to acknowledge my existence next time we cross paths.

Fred: Oh, I'm going to school.

Me: For what?

. . . [conversation continues, reasonably balanced between us] . . .

Fred: Well, it was nice to meet you.

Me: You too. See you later.

My Head: It actually was fun talking to you.

My Subconscious: This means that we are now "friends" and in situations where we both are we will seek each other out to converse again.

Except that never happens, and so I always feel slightly betrayed when they don't come over to me and actually talk to me. (Not that I go over to them. Yes I am a hypocrite.)

Basically, I think I take conversations too seriously.

Through the Grass

My sister brought to my attention that out of my last five blog posts three of them had pictures of something (plums, tigers, owls) through the bushes (or trees). So here is one more.
When I was little I was always sad when my parents said it was time to mow the grass because I loved laying on the ground and peaking through the long grass pretending I was a tiger, or some explorer about to discover something amazing.
Apparently I still feel that way, I just take pictures instead of laying there on the grass.

The Great Owl Mystery

I was sitting at my desk working when I heard something outside my window. The sun had already set but it wasn't late. Only about 7 or so. The noises kept coming. Owls I decided, but also a coo of another bird, I wasn't sure what.

The next day I remembered my nephew and niece had seen an owl in the pine tree outside my window a couple of months ago.

I decided to investigate. I went and poked around the pine tree and saw something suspiciously white against the yellow pine needles.

It was quickly identified as an ulna (lower arm bone or... wing in this case) of a bird. Next I went underneath the tree. More evidence:

Dark grey, relatively small feathers were scattered everywhere, but there was no evidence of owl pellets. I was disappointed. But did not give up. 

I went and asked my resident ornithologist, she viewed the feathers and suggested some local birds such as Pine siskins, quails, and starlings. 

We compared the new ulna to my comparative skeleton collection (the Flicker from Bird Morality).

The Flicker ulna is 2 inches long and has distinctive bumps running its length.

The new ulna is 1.75 inches long and has no bumps.

The victim was not a flicker.

Because the ulna is part of the wing we decided that it's length would most likely be a fitting ratio to wingspan (instead of length of bird). Flickers, according to wikipedia, have a wingspan of 17-21 inches. 

Now it was time for some math:

2 in = Flicker's Ulna

19 in = Average Flicker's wingspan

1.75 in = Victim's Ulna

x = Victim's approximate wingspan

Flicker (2/19) Victim (1.75/x) 

 x = 16.625 in

Pine Siskins only have a wingspan of about 7 to 8 inches, and quails (besides being too colorful) have a wingspan of 12.6-14.6 inches). Too small.

But starlings had a wingspan of about 12-17 inches. Perfect.

We think the owl had a starling for dinner.

Assumptions: The bone and the feathers were from the same bird.

Ratio between ulna and wingspan is similar between species.

ASV

When I was in high school some friends and I were all active on my brother's forum, (which were fairly popular at the time). Somehow one of the threads got started talking about all the violent emoticons there are. Cute little smilie faces beating each other over the head with mallets or getting shot. I suggested, jokingly that we should start a club called Against Smilie Violence (ASV). Two of our friends joined and we became a very small club, and I think the only thing we ever did was make T-shirts.

But sometimes I still think about ASV and what it stands for. Recently I have been reading a series called Skullduggery Pleasant by Derek Landy. It is an urban fantasy that is quite violent but really funny. I like them, but sometimes they make me feel guilty. 

I guess I just find it disturbing how often really violent things are portrayed as funny, (the squirrel from Ice Age anyone?). Perhaps I find it most disturbing because I often think they are funny.

When I was a teenager I realized that joking about not liking someone made me not like them. You think it is a joke until it becomes all too real. So what happens when you laugh when people in media fall down stairs, or have a fist fight? I'm not sure I want to go there. . .

Becca Land

Meisu!*

Some little girls love dolls. Not me. I was always a stuffed animal person. I had (and have) quite a few. They had names and personalities and relationships even a land they lived in. I called it Becca Land, and I would go visit them and even spoke their language (I just babbled... it's kind of fun you should try it).

Sharry, Llamo (the llama from Ecuador), Tansy (Heroine of my first chapter book), Pyrite (faithful steed of Sir Hoff A Lot), Glowie, Colby Smi (the Adventurer), and Berry

Not long ago one of my nieces asked why I only had Oafrid (my stuffed Cow) at the foot of my bed, and all my other stuffed animals were stuffed in my closet or downstairs in boxes. I tried to explain that they didn't really fit on my bed, I'm too big now. She suggested other places, that were more in the way, and than explained that she slept with all her animals and dolls even though she had to sleep under them. I didn't quite know what to say because I didn't think she would understand anything I told her. At her age I too slept with all my stuffed animals. Then they weren't in the way.

In a lot of ways I've outgrown Becca Land but I still love them. Sometimes it is even hard to watch my nieces and nephews play with them because they don't play with them right. Wonder is a boy, and Fluzz is Honey's baby!

I'm not exactly sure what I am trying to say, but the inhabitants of Becca Land really were a large part of my childhood.

My first and second loves: Stuffed Animals and Books. Bones, Wyvern, Fleece, Rain, Scar, Neo, Wascally Whennie, Twinkle, Splash (two of Chip's best friends), Purple, Blue Eyes (Mother of Snowjumper, and Graypaw), Sappo, Prince, Squawky, Quis and Pobble's legs.

*Probably the only consistent Becca Language word. It means 'greetings.' 

Tigers

Tigers:

stealthy and silent

lithe and strong, beautiful.

It comes and is gone.

I wrote this haiku in 7th grade for English class at age 13.

Tigers have always been one of my favorite animals.

Above is a picture of one of my favorite stuffed animals. 

Her name is Shardul, more commonly called Sharry.

Picking Fruit

When I was little I remember going on hikes and filling up little snack bags we had on hand with wild berries. One memorable walk we filled our frisbee with raspberries, blueberries, and black caps. Another year, my sister and I went to a farm and picked buckets of strawberries.
The last little while I have helped pick pears, apricots, plums, and apples. I really enjoy picking fruit. Tree fruit is fun too because I enjoy climbing trees, negotiating the branches and reaching for the fruit. There is just something simple but fulfilling about picking fruit. Plus it tastes good.

Books Out Loud

This summer I went on several road trips and listened to more books on CD/tape than I have since I was little and they rang a little bell when you are supposed to turn the page. On some of my other road trips I didn't listen to books I read them out loud to nieces and nephews. Also, I have spent some time reading my own book out loud to myself as a form of editing. So here are some thoughts on books out loud.

I enjoy reading out loud, I find it fun to try to get into the characters a little bit.

I have found listening to other people read annoying. Women often read men in a breathy, false deep voice. It's weird. Men sometimes read women or girls in an overly falsetto tone that makes it hard to take anything they are saying seriously. And the books that aren't as exciting are even less so when I hear them read because they take longer to get through the boring parts. 

Perhaps I would prefer reader theater types where there are different voices for the different characters. 

I just think it is weird that I enjoy reading out loud, but don't really like the books on tape or CD. Strangely, I don't mind people I know reading out loud. Maybe I'm not expecting as much or something...

Always and Never

I never know what to post about on here, but I always come up with something eventually.
That statement is only true for moderate values of never, and high values of always.
It's the same principle as 2+2=4 except for exceptionally high values of 2.
And yet that is how I always speak. It is so easy to talk like that. Using words that are very extreme in ways that are not.
This is somewhat ironic though. Have you ever seen those questionnaires that have options Always/Almost Always/Sometimes/Almost Never/Never or 1 is Horrible and 10 is Amazing, or some such thing? Those I rarely will put down the extreme answers, I always stick to something more moderate. For some reason putting "I always brush my teeth twice a day" on paper seems more inaccurate than if I just said it. Because it is only true for moderately high values of always.
I hope you all read my blog every week!

Ownership: Part 2: Creativity

I wanted a CD case for multiple CDs so I went to a thrift store and found one for a dollar. The only problem was that someone had painted "DVD" on it badly. And crossed something else off of it. It was kind of ugly. But I decided that instead of always looking at it and thinking "wow that's ugly" I would so something about it. So I painted it. (Too bad I didn't take before and after pictures, just after).

Now everytime I look at it, it makes me happy.
So going back to my first post on ownership... This was a choice, but the choice was only half the battle, I also had to be creative with it.

Bird Morality

I apologize before hand if you think this post is gross.
Early this spring I was out in the garden and found a dead bird. I buried it, but noted where it was buried. This week with the help of one of my nieces and some nephews I dug it back up in the hopes of finding the bones, because I like bones and I have kind of been experimenting with making myself a comparative collection. I felt kind of bad though, digging up a burial I had buried. I won't go so far as to say it felt wrong, but it was along those lines. One thing I did learn in my osteology class, when we were dealing primarily with human remains, was that the bones we work with were real people and we must treat them with respect. I dug up the flicker (that's what kind of bird it was) not because I wanted to make Halloween decorations or scare someone. I dug it up to learn. I'm sure that the words: "in the name of science" can not clear all actions, but I think motive is important, and knowledge is a very powerful one. I'm also not saying that people with cow skulls in their front yards are bad. In fact I think they look cool. But it is more of a moral subject than I had thought about previously. So here is my thoughtful but unrepentant picture of the bones we did find of the flicker (I will clean them up later).

Gross

I have been thinking about what gross means for some time now.
My little nephew freaked out not long ago when he asked for a napkin at lunch and I handed him one that had a tiny bit of food on it. He couldn't handle even sitting near it. It was too gross.
And I was like "You'll live."
When I was in kindergarten I remember finding a stick of gum on the bus, still in the wrapper. I chewed it, when I got home my Mom asked me where I got she was not impressed.
To children somethings seem beyond disgusting that parents are like "yeah, I deal with that all the time." But then other things that seem totally fine to kids, completely gross their parents out.
How do people learn what is "gross" and what isn't.
I see the same things in adults. I watched this video not long ago. The little boy smearing his dad with spaghetti sauce totally grossed me out. (Which by the way is NOT the point of the video). And yet most days of the dig I smeared my own face and arms with dirt and vanilla (the vanilla was to keep the bugs away, the dirt just happened). And that didn't bother me at all.

Honestly, I think food grosses me out more than a lot of other things. Like cleaning up food, and leftover food and such, not eating it (usually). But other people that came to the dig didn't even like to touch the dirt without a glove and told their children not to touch worms.
I feel like sometimes in our world we act like things are either gross or they aren't. That they are just inherently that way. At least that is how we talk to children. "That's gross, don't touch/eat it." Not "Please don't touch that. It is unsanitary/dirty/etc." So how do we, as individuals, learn what gross is?

Epic!

***

I feel like epic has become a pretty popular adjective, at least among those of my generation. We want our movies and books to be epic. Superheros, Lord of the Rings and Brandon Sanderson are all pretty epic. Epic stories, and epic visuals.
But then I was thinking about what actually makes things epic. If Vin*, bounding across a smoke filled landscape with a sword twice her height, was not fighting for the survival of her world would it still be epic? Would Eowyn's** defeat of the Witch King with her famous line "I am no man" be epic if she and the others weren't fighting for the protection of Middle Earth?
I'm not sure they would. And yet when I hear people talking about things in real life being epic they tend to be  like this picture of me on the top of a mountain.

But really I'm not doing anything epic. I'm not saving the world, or even someone's life. I just went for a walk one evening after work. (Granted I was living at high altitude for an Archaeology Dig). So I find myself asking why don't we call doctors saving someone's life epic? Or a child standing up to a bully?

*One of the main characters from Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn trilogy.
**A character from J R R Tolkein's Lord of the Rings.
***A fairly "epic" pose I did of a character from the book I'm writing. (Harrock).

Editions

Many times I have had teachers tell me and my fellow students that they better not see the first draft of our essays or papers. They much prefer a third or fourth edition.

I am presently rereading the book North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell. The copy of it that I have has the title of chapter 24 being "The Meeting." Then it has a footnote noting that that title was probably a typo in the first edition and it should have read "The Mutiny." This would be a much more fitting title because that is the main subject of the entire chapter. So the question is why did the editor of my book find it necessary to keep the mistake just so that it would be consistent with the first edition. The author herself probably made the change. I find it more rude to ignore the author's intent then go back to the "original." 

I am in the process of editing my own book right now, and I certainly edit it for a reason, and want people to read the most recent copy. 

First Editions are overrated, that's what I'm saying.

Search Parameters

On my first field school my professor made sure we knew what we were looking for, especially when we were walking across the fields looking for things. We had already learned how to spot debitage (waste material from making projectile points) but looking for things like rock shelters, and windbreaks is a little different and if you aren't looking for them because you are too busy looking at your feet for a tiny flake of obsidian you will miss them, despite how big they are. You have to keep your search parameters open.
On the Nauvoo dig, I was sometimes amazed at how much people didn't see when we asked them to screen the dirt. I would help them and immediately pull out a chip of earthenware or a piece of glass from the dirt they had been staring at for minutes. I kind of felt guilty, but really it was just because I was more used to what I was looking for, I already had the search parameters down.

A piece of Native American pottery, that pretty much looks like a rock.

Just like it is easier to find bits of glass in dirt when you know what to look for, I think other things are like that as well. When I looked for miracles I found them. When I looked for reasons to be annoyed, I found them. Perhaps the problem is not so much in what is around you, but what you are looking for.

Unmet Friends

I grew up taking the bus to school both in the morning and the afternoon. Before I could read I would generally sit by myself and watch people or the window. After I learned to read well I read most of the time.
One day on the bus, one boy, who had never been in any of my classes, he might have even been a grade ahead of me almost left something on the bus. "Steve" I called "Is this yours?" He grabbed it, and then looked at me and said, "How do you know my name?"
At Nauvoo there is a set of 40 Performing Missionaries who act, dance, and play instruments in several different shows and activities. 16 are in the band, 4 do stage crew type things, and 20 are the primary dancers and actors. While I was in Nauvoo I went to about a dozen performances with them. I got to know them in an observers way, and I even talked to a few of them individually at some points. But not really. It just reminded me of the school bus. Telling people about them I could say, "oh yeah, I really liked that Elder, and that Sister is pretty cool." And yet, I actually have no idea. Especially because they were always acting... I've had other situations like that at school (in college as well) and church. I gain this sympathy for random people, and occasionally think "I could be their friend." Then it never happens, but if I do think about them, I think of them fondly like a toy I grew up with but haven't played with for years (not object like, but yeah). Unmet friends I guess.

Historic Archaeology

One of the things I enjoyed most about my most recent dig is that it was Historic Archaeology. Which means the artifacts were super diverse. Not just chert flakes and groundstone like I saw at my other digs. It was also really neat because it was in Historic Nauvoo. We got to dig up little pieces of china, glass, brick, and square nails and then we would go off touring the historic sites and see the very same things, just whole. I don't think I have ever paid attention to china in my life until I was picking up tiny pieces of it.

Glazed brick I found. It means it was overheated in the baking process.

A brick walk outside the historic Willard Richards home. The two vertical bricks in the right corner are glazed at the bottom corners.

My sister talks about "connection" with her kids. Basically connecting a recent experience with something else. I felt myself doing that a lot, and it was fun.

A little man from a piece of earthenware I found.

A full plate found in the Browning Gunshop. Someone at the dig found one of the same men that are in this plate.

I found this piece of bright blue earthenware at the Samuel Smith home site.

The bright blue of the previous piece matches the dark blue plate in the background. The tumblers on the table are the same pattern as some of the glass fragments I found. This setup is in the Wilford Woodruff home.

Thanks for bearing with me as I geek out over this, but it was really exciting to make all these connections and just find such a variety of artifacts that these people used.

Sacred

I heard once that three different things can make a place sacred. The Spirit, Blood or Sweat or at least that is what I remember. I think sacrifice should fit in there somewhere. The Spirit meaning spiritual or holy experiences, blood meaning death, and sweat meaning hard work.

Nauvoo is an amazing place because it is sacred for all three reasons. It is a place where thousands of Latter Day Saint converts sought refuge from mobs, and then many died from malaria. Under the direction of the latter day prophet Joseph Smith a modern temple was built with great sacrifice. There angels visited, and in this city modern revelation was received.

For all these reasons Nauvoo is a sacred place. There are some places (and times) that are sacred for only one of these reasons. Churches for spirit. Cemeteries for blood. School for sweat. But when they all come together in one place and time it makes it all the more powerful.

Wildlife

I am spending June in historic Nauvoo! I have already spent almost a week here. In the evenings I have spent some of my time walking about and have seen more wildlife than I have seen for some time and was kind of excited.

2 Skunks

Tons of Canada Geese and Sparrows and Red-winged Blackbirds. Which I love!

Lots of Robins

A nest of Baby birds

2 White Tailed Deer

Cute little Bunny Rabbits

A mother turtle laying her Eggs (really close to our house)

And for domesticated I have seen quite a few horses and a barn cat.

Ownership

I have never had anything against dandelions, and I suppose I still don't but this summer when I looked out on the lawn and saw them blooming everywhere it kind of annoyed me and I thought “I can do something about that.” So I did. For the last two weeks I have spent between 15 and 25 minutes pulling dandelions out of the lawn. I'm surprised at how well it actually worked. When I started I stayed within a ten foot radius crawling around on my knees, last time I did it I spent quite a bit of the time walking around looking for them. Which brings me to two main points. First, small and simple things are effective, even just for a few minutes a day. Second: Ownership. Feeling ownership over something makes a big difference and that ownership can come from chance, or choice. Before when my Mom asked me to pick dandelions I did, but it was more just a chore than me actually caring how things would work out, and whether I got rid of them all or not. This time because I choose to care, I did. I find that to be the case in a lot of situations, it's kind of amazing what a difference it can make. When I feel ownership I tend to be more diligent, I care more, and I'm more responsible. So here are two other examples:

Toy Bank: My brother picked it out for me and gave it to me for Christmas when I was about seven. It makes me sad when my nieces and nephews make the door fall off or clog the coin chute, and other toys that we have around some equally old and equally remembered but never “mine” I don't care about quite as much.

Driving Across the Country with my Sister: I've driven (or perhaps more appropriately ridden) across the country numerous times but this time with my sister I did a little less than half the driving, I got one of the two hotel keys every night, and when I wasn't driving I was appeasing children or navigating. I felt more invested and more proud of it as an accomplishment than I have on other trips.

VAK

My brother let me borrow a book called Pushing Up the Sky by Lee Donaldson and Jonathan Rand. Usually I am wary of such books, but as I read it I realized it wasn't so much a self-help book as a self-awareness one. I would place it in a similar category as the well known Love Languages books (although I haven't read those). 
After reading it all, discussing it, and thinking about it, I decided that these type of books shouldn't necessarily be taken as complete truth, or a solve all for all your questions but more like one more set of tools for my human analysis repertoire. 
So, a little about the theory: Everyone has a Personal Operating System that is how we process information. First we acquire it, than organize, and finally value it. There are three main ways of doing all this: Visual(seeing), Auditory(hearing), Kinesthetic (feeling/doing). The authors put forward the idea that each person has a dominant way of doing all three steps. Such as acquiring information visually(1V), organizing it through talking and hearing(2A), and place value on the information depending on how we feel about it(3K). I decided this is my personal operating system (VAK). But you could also be KAV, AVK, KVA or any other combination. 
The part I found most fascinating is how some things about myself that I have noticed actually fit into these principles. Instead of it being just a weird quirk it means something deeper about myself. Such as how I need to talk ideas through before I act on them or understand myself what I was thinking. This is a common characteristic in 2As. I process information by listening/talking about it. Or perhaps even odder, the thing I always hated most about gym class was not playing the sports (which I usually enjoyed) but the idea that when you play sports people focus on watching your body (not your face) and that made me extremely uncomfortable (hand over the baggy clothes please). This actually makes sense in the context of my being a 3K. Motion and emotion is powerful to me, and sharing it easily makes me uncomfortable.
The other thing I found interesting was how no one completely fits into one category for each section (at least that seems highly unlikely) but we are often more dominant in one over another. But in all actuality that makes us more adaptable.
Anyway. I found it all pretty fascinating and can't do it justice in two paragraphs, but oh well. The problem is I'm not sure I am particularly effective about actually applying the things I learn, to make me a better communicator. . .

Children's names for Adults

The last month or so I have spent quite a bit of time with my nieces and nephews, and I've come up with a list of some alternate names I think kids often have for their parents (or adult guardians). So in honor of Mother's Day here are some other names:
Coat Rack
Door Opener
Holder of Things
Hand Hold
Pillow
Step Ladder
Refrigerator
Storyteller
Audio Book
Stroller Engine
Entertainer
Fan
Trash Can
Chair
and that is not to mention the other ones like, Torturer.
To all those who take care of children. Thanks.

My Mind on GPS

Two weeks ago I drove across the country in four days. Our GPS died on the third day but we had a good map and a mother who kindly looked places up for us on the Internet and called us back with the directions. Overall it went pretty well. Honestly we got slightly lost four times, thrice while we had access to the GPS. The only other time I worked with a GPS was on my mission and I didn't use one much then.
I find that when I work with a GPS three things happen to my brain.
1. The GPS works great, showing the roads nicely and leading us directly to where we need to go through unknown roads and I pay attention on the way. Meaning it's teaching me.
2. The GPS tells me where to go and I follow it blindly and I get wherever I was going and say "I have no idea how I got here. There's no way I could retrace my steps." Another words I wasn't paying attention and have now lost myself. . . especially unhelpful if I will be driving there later and need to learn the area.
3. I follow the GPS knowing it is heading me in the wrong direction (whether the address was incomplete or it is just not working correctly), but not trusting myself enough to not follow it. After all it's technology. It has to be right. Right? And then I end up where I don't want to be, and turn it off, and get out a map and figure it out based on the map and my own intuition, leaving me really frustrated with the GPS.
The problem is most of the time either options 2 or 3 happens to me. At first I thought I hated GPSs but after it being so helpful (some of the time) on our trip I realized that it isn't the GPS that I hate, it is the way I either go stupid or doubt myself when I use one. I find it really frustrating.
Neither of those ever happen when I just use a map :) (but sometimes maps are inaccurate, incomplete, or not detailed enough, and they can't just tell you where you are).

Personal Lies

Lately I have been noticing lies, and not just any lies but lies people tell themselves about themselves. For example I tell myself that I'm quiet and I like to try and portray that self to people. The thing is I always comment in classes, I often find myself the talkative one in awkward interactions, and especially among my family I find myself dominating the conversation. And yet on stupid papers where you are supposed to write three words that describe you I often write "reserved."
I know some other people that tell themselves they aren't smart enough when they probably just don't want to deal with that knowledge. Or others who describe themselves as outgoing, when they hardly talk to anyone. And yet in all of these instances, myself included, the people seem to believe these things about themselves, at least sometimes.
It would almost make more sense if the lie I told myself was actually helpful (like telling myself I am stronger or braver so that you can "fake it 'till you make it") but I know the lie I tell myself can sometimes be detrimental. Not that being quiet is a bad thing, but forcing myself to be quiet in a situation when I don't need to be and I don't actually want to be, can be.
And certainly telling yourself that you are awkward, or not smart enough or that you always need help doesn't seem like a helpful sort of lie.
Where do these lies come from and why do we persist in telling them? To others and most of all ourselves?

Scripture Cases

When I arrived in Indiana as an LDS missionary I had two sets of scriptures. One with a normal case and the other was a small quad that had no case. I quickly decided I needed one, and the fad of the mission was to make your own out of cardboard, pictures and tape. So of course I made one. It is pictured on the right. It has five sides meaning it's a box without a top. Each side has pictures portraying a theme: Faith, Repentance, Baptism, The Holy Ghost, and Enduring.

About a year into my mission I decided I wanted to make another case for my big set, and shortly after I gave my normal case away to someone who needed it, so I got busy and made another case. It is pictured on the left. This one had a top plus a flap and I made it's theme scriptures so each side portrays a different type of scripture. The Bible, The Book of Mormon, The Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price are the four sides. The bottom has Modern Day Prophets, the top is Personal Revelation, and the flap just says "Scriptures."

Recently I have wanted to carry around just my Book of Mormon around, but wanted to keep it protected, so I decided to make a case that fits just my Book of Mormon. I was a little lazy though and didn't want to do all the pictures and try to think of a theme and all that. Plus, I had the fun idea of making it look like gold plates like the ones the Book of Mormon was originally translated from. So I covered my cardboard with tinfoil and then with a gold plastic and finally with tape I made another case. Pictured in the middle (sorry the picture isn't great). It's not amazing but it amused me, and it will keep my Book of Mormon safe, so it's good enough. I enjoyed making it.

For more information about Scriptures, especially the Book of Mormon you can go to http://www.mormon.org/beliefs/book-of-mormon.

Conversation: Part One: Kinetic Conversation

Last night I had a long conversation with my preteen nephew. Almost the whole time we were flinging a stuffed octopus like a frisbee back and forth. It reminded me of countless conversations I've had with my brothers and friends while tossing pillows or occasionally actual frisbees back and forth. It seems to me that there is something about doing things with your hands while you talk that can help conversations be more comfortable.
Even driver/passenger conversations on road trips or talking while doing a puzzle seem like the same thing. Maybe it is simply because you don't feel like you have to be talking the whole time, because you are interacting the whole time in a more distant way, but still interacting. So if you can't think of anything to say, it's not a big deal, you can be silent, or even comment on the way the octopus flipped, or the puzzle piece you are looking for.
However, some types of kinetic conversations seem like they don't work. For instance, when you are shopping (there are too many decisions that need to be made).
As I write this it also makes me wonder if it is a gender thing. If boys are more likely to enjoy kinetic conversation, because most of the example from my own life seem to be with boys. But then again maybe it is more about who I have conversations with. . .

Sound Effects

Quote Walls are interesting things. I've participated in a couple of them, both on my mission. In High school I kept a quote paper for my history class. Sometimes they are just dumb, but other times they are fun. One of the walls I had on my mission was made up of notes written on hot pink sticky notes (I was trying to use them up), I brought the stickies home, so it's almost like I still have that Quote Wall. Here are two of the quotes from them:
"Life is more fun with sound effects." -Elder W.
"Every good day deserves a drum roll." -Me
They are still true. I often find myself clicking my tongue, whirling (supposedly it sounds like a bird), or knocking on walls.
Once when I made a whirling sound one of the people I was with looked around abruptly and asked "What was that?" My roommate answered them "That's the noise Becca makes when she is excited."
When I was little I prided myself on my realistic dog bark (I wonder now, how good I really was).
I enjoy making strange noises, which is actually a little ironic because (1) I'm not musically inclined, and (2) the rest of the time I feel like I try to be really quiet. For instance I hate it when the zippers on my backpack rattle around, or my keys clink together in a big mass. But I guess those are sounds and not sound effects.
Happy noises.

Tests and Patterns

In college I took a basic economics class. I've had better classes. One of the things I didn't like about the class was that the tests were super boring. 50 multiple choice, and that's it. I got so bored taking them. To make them bearable I would skip around, do a couple per page, skip to the end and do them backwards, or do one question per page. They were still boring, I would find myself reading the questions several times before finally focusing enough to comprehend what I was reading. Which means I took longer to take the tests than most people, but I couldn't help it. I was so excited at the end of the semester when the professor said we didn't have to take the final if we had a good enough grade. Hurrah! No more boring tests.
I think it's kind of weird to get bored taking tests, but because I do it made me observe tests more. Like checking to see if the scantron sheets spell BAD or DAD or FAD or BAA. Also, I found it entertaining to try and guess the answer by the way the question and the options were phrased or set up, and then compare it to what I would choose looking at what I thought was the right answer.
That tendency probably would have got me into trouble if I hadn't already learned that sometimes the patterns do not point to the right answer.
When I was in first grade I remember taking a quiz. It was a photocopied page filled with handwritten sentences with blanks. A simple fill in the blank with the answers/options at the bottom of the page to choose from. I didn't read any of the sentences, instead I put the longest words in the longest blanks, the shortest in the shortest. I failed the quiz.
That didn't stop me from looking for the patterns in tests, instead it was my backup method to finding or checking my answers. I never let it be my first method again. At least if I did, it never ended so badly again :).

Leaf Left Behind

This is a painting I did in High School that I call Longing Window. The "ghosts" were originally supposed to be shadows, but my teacher wouldn't let me keep them that way. The leaves in the windows are partially based off of a poem I had written around the same time.

The leaves are blowing;

I dread their going.

Their beauty, their laughter,

their song, and their life.

Never to come back and stay,

to meet me in the crevice.

One by one they fly,

twirling, and dancing in joy.

Sometimes their colors meet mine,

a cruel trick of the winds.

Maybe I'll escape one day,

only to find them farther still,

and out of reach,

along their dance among the trees.

Learning from Books

A couple of conversations I had this week and folding socks brought back a memory.
We were on a family vacation, staying for a couple of days at an Aunt and Uncle's house. My Mom volunteered us kids to help fold socks. While we were doing so we were talking to our cousins. My oldest brother told a cousin a few years younger than him "You learn something from every book you read, even if it is only I really don't like that book."
This bit of wisdom amazed me, perhaps just because I hadn't thought much about it previously. Earlier this week I talked to someone who jokingly (at least I hope it was jokingly) said that reading fantasy books teaches you about how dragons fly, or magic works. Granted you may learn that, but I think you can learn a lot more than just that. I have learned a lot about armor, weaving, and stone cutting from fantasy books, and trapping, history, and corn husking bees from historical fiction. And that is besides learning about human interaction and emotions, and good (or bad) writing from almost all fiction.
Nonfiction isn't the only way to learn.

Playing with Food

Parents are supposed to say certain things. Like "we get there when we get there" "eat your vegetables" and "don't play with your food."
Apparently I never listened. I still play with my food. A lot. For example eating an ear of corn like a typewriter, painting with beet juice, carving my carrots, and threading noodles on my fork. I'm glad my parents were never to harsh on me for those things, for some reason making cucumbers into packmans still make me smile.
I have a very fond memory of my kindergarten days. They were only half days and so I still got to eat lunch with my Mom, and I remember them still. Just the two of us eating yogurt and cheese curls, except I swear the cheese curls back then were more curly and tasted better than they do now. We would sit there together and write messages with the curls. Or perhaps she was just teaching me how to read. I don't know, but I do know I still play with my food.

I met a lady once who made playing with food an art, here is one of her partly carved carrots.

Curling

There are many animals whose defensive action is curling up. Some are quite good at it, in fact they are made for it. Porcupines, pangolins, hedgehogs.
Sometimes I feel as if people are awfully good at it too. The problem with curling though is that when only your prickles are showing then no one can ever get to know you. I think some people don't find this a problem because they have two, three, five, etc people that they are always uncurled for, so they don't feel the need to uncurl for anyone else.
I've heard people mock those individuals who come out and tell you their whole life story for no apparent. Sometimes it probably is just personality, but sometimes I wonder if it's because they don't have anyone to uncurl for, and so they uncurl for anyone that walks by, hoping that the favor will be returned, but it rarely happens.
Why are we all so defensive all the time?
Uncurl, maybe it's not even for something you need, but for what another person needs.

Needs

Obviously we have physical needs, basic ones like food, water, sleep and such like, but far more interesting in my opinion, are emotional needs. Partly why they are more interesting is because they vary more between people. My sister says she needs to see new things, it's convenient that she gets to be a world traveler.
Here are a few of my needs:

• Intelligent, thought provoking, interesting conversation. If I don't get it every so often I think to much in my head (instead of outloud) and often it makes me depressed, and yet one good conversation can solve most of it.
• An engaging, physical, activity. Soccer, shoveling snow, and sometimes walks can all count. This is arguably a physical need, but sometimes I think it's partly mental too. 
• Social interaction. Not necessarily a lot, and the above conversations don't always count although if the above physical activity is done with people it might work. Usually it's something more fun based, and although it's better when I am the active participant I can just be an observer.
• A book. I get book deprived. When I don't have a satisfying book (or computer game, etc) that I can fall back on in my free moments I am actually less productive. This is because when I "take a break" and it's not satisfying then I just keep looking for other entertainment so that I will be satisfied and never accomplish anything.
• A productive/creative project. This can be blogging (usually not) painting, drawing, crowdsourcing, list making, documenting, writing, researching, and a bunch of other things. If I don't do anything like this I get restless, and grumpy.

These needs are definitely not as well defined as food, and sleep. I couldn't tell you how often I need them. Is it daily? weekly? biweekly? monthly? Sometimes I think it varies. When I was on my two year LDS mission when books were not an option, surprisingly (or more likely I was just blessed) I didn't really notice getting book deprived. But I did get conversation deprived on occasion. 

What are your needs?

Consuming and Creating: Part 4: Crowdsourcing

My brother and I talked a little about different crowdsourcing projects, yesterday. It is when a group or company gets a large amount of people involved in a project. I don't know too much about it, but I think it is often done through volunteers via the internet.
Indexing done by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is a good example of this. People sign up, download documents and then transcribe certain information from the documents, particularly to use for genealogical work. I've done some of it, but not recently.
https://familysearch.org/indexing/
Recently I have worked on two other crowdsourcing projects.
Operation War Diary
It's a project similar to LDS Indexing, but you don't type in much, mostly you pin little tabs on documents. They are journal entries from WWI battalions. I've recorded casualties, training, trench building, and football games. It's interesting to see the day to day activities of some of the groups.
http://www.operationwardiary.org/
Snapshot Serengetti
This might be my favorite. As the volunteer you look at pictures taken by camera traps in the wilds of Africa, and then record what types of animals are present, how many and what they are doing. Who knew wildebeests were so common! I've also documented ostriches, zebras, hartebeests, elephants, and topi.
http://www.snapshotserengeti.org/

Now that you know all about crowdsourcing this is how I think it relates to creating.... There are a lot of short games you can play on the internet, and most of them are addicting to some degree of another. But when you are done you haven't accomplished anything. Consuming just isn't as fulfilling as creating. And so essentially people that have set up crowdsourcing opportunities make productive things into short addictive "games." When people get involved, they enjoy it, and they feel better about themselves then if they had only been playing a game, because it's creative in some ways. Plus, you get to be a part of a project that is bigger than yourself. It's exciting. I know I've enjoyed doing them.
So basically crowdsourcers have capitalized on helping people be creative/productive.

Snow

Who can resist looking into the depths of a fire? Always changing, always the same, potential power. Fires are almost hypnotic. Running water is the same way.
Lately, I have decided that still water is the same too... and when I mean still, I mean frozen. Well, the same and different. Snow and ice. Snow falls, coats the land, blown around by wind, melts, crystallizes, packs, and sublimates. It's potential power is not as obvious as fire (heat) or water (temperature as well as kinetic and gravitational potential energy). Maybe I shouldn't even call it potential energy but it is does have a potential to change. Plus, every day the same snow looks different. In every place the snow looks different. I remember going out in the marsh behind our house when I was in high school, and taking picture after picture of snow and ice. Landscapes, and close ups. Trapped bubbles, crystals, icicles, and packed snowmen. The changes in snow/ice are slower than in fire and running water but they are no less captivating.

Indiana

Indiana

Snow Crystals on Ice in Indiana

Indiana

Indiana

Wyoming

Wyoming

Wyoming

Graupel in Wyoming

Wyoming

Utah

Utah

Utah