Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Monday, 16 November 2009
There are so many reasons not to listen to Taylor Swift that I decided to give it a shot. Why be a hater? Also, it's research for a future Tween Studies Seminar on pop princesses. And crossovers. We could talk about the nerd -> prom queen crossover from hit movies such as She's All That (glasses to no glasses seems to be the major sign of hotness. That is an important threshold--nay, crossover, to consider in this future course). Refer to above music video for visual aids (TS with glasses = so NOT hot. TS without glasses = BABE MAGNET/BOMBSHELL!) Anyway, I like Taylor Swift.
[This video is a total candidate for a mini tween movie!]
I like her more because she helps me get into my students' heads. It's not a place I generally like to spend any time, but sometimes it's necessary. For instance, how else would you be able to decipher the following bits of mind-blowing "literary analysis":
"Tim O'Brien presents a few words that are repeated throughout the chapter." (That's a thesis. Did you know that? Taylor helped me figure that one out.)
"A personal example can be used to symbolize that it's time to practice." (This is "specific evidence" to support an "arguable claim.")
And finally, "O'Brien should have no problem provoking a visceral reaction from the reader." (That's a "pithy, relevant conclusion.")
Taylor's sugary pop songs helped me navigate and mitigate my pain. Thanks, Tayl-Bear!
Can you feel the tween pain?
Finally, object lesson challenge:
How can I incorporate this into a lesson? Which literary device does it best illustrate?
Monday, 9 November 2009
Once upon a time, Patricia, Warren, and I went on a magical adventure to a long forgotten place called DINOSAUR LAND. It was the brainchild of a loony, borderline genius man who drives around his fiberglass wonderlands (yes, multiple) in a four wheeler. I imagine he wears a fisherman's cap and sunglasses. Anyway, this adventure included a pit stop at the Pink Cadillac Cafe, Foamhenge (life size model of Stonehenge made entirely out of styrofoam), the Natural Bridge (bought by Thomas Jefferson for something like two bucks), and a zoo where you can get your picture taken with baby tiger cubs. It sounds too magical to believe, so here's some proof. We all highly recommend Natural Bridge, Virginia.
Perfect Kodak moments (this King Kong had an actual ladder you could climb to perch in his palm!)
I mean, what would you do without a lifelike triceratops in the background of your photos? You would be lost, that's what.
Also, slow dancing with dinosaurs is really nice, as Warren proved time and time again.
Not to make you too jealous, but we also went rollerskating at a mack daddy establishment called, simply:
We were drawn in by the flashy inflatable Tigger. Obviously. We were also the only patrons over the age of 5 and below the age of 45 present. Disco a-go-go, is all I'm saying. I have to admit that I had a few Medieval Times flashbacks. Oh, the glory days...
I'm pretty convinced as of now that every birthday should include laser lights and a disco ball.
So imagine my delight when I learned that there was ANOTHER Dinosaur Land, only this one was much closer to D.C. For Warren's birthday I decided to take him to relive the magic once more. This Dinosaur Land was the brainchild of a Civil War buff. He originally opened a Civil War tourist shop, then he branched out to include some Native American wares, and finally--after a trip to Tennessee where he beheld his first dinosaur land--decided to add fiberglass dinosaurs to the mix. Spice things up a bit. Here is what he came up with...
A rather breathtaking (and eye catching) raodside sign
Really Big Sea Creatures were apparently important to the integrity of his Dino Land Vision:
Super dramatic (and emotive--look at the blood! The expressions of the felled dinos!) life size dioramas:
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A rather breathtaking (and eye catching) raodside sign
Really Big Sea Creatures were apparently important to the integrity of his Dino Land Vision:
Super dramatic (and emotive--look at the blood! The expressions of the felled dinos!) life size dioramas:
oe28I/AAAAAAAAA5Q/XMjP-xXvWfo/s1600-h/IMG_6667.JPG">
Perfect Kodak moments (this King Kong had an actual ladder you could climb to perch in his palm!)
I mean, what would you do without a lifelike triceratops in the background of your photos? You would be lost, that's what.
Also, slow dancing with dinosaurs is really nice, as Warren proved time and time again.
Not to make you too jealous, but we also went rollerskating at a mack daddy establishment called, simply:
We were drawn in by the flashy inflatable Tigger. Obviously. We were also the only patrons over the age of 5 and below the age of 45 present. Disco a-go-go, is all I'm saying. I have to admit that I had a few Medieval Times flashbacks. Oh, the glory days...
I'm pretty convinced as of now that every birthday should include laser lights and a disco ball.
This weekend, it was unseasonably warm here in Iowa so to celebrate we made a key lime pie (thanks Oprah)! With real key limes! Did you know that ripe key limes are yellow, not green? So real key lime pie is yellow, not green? Fakesters put green food coloring in their "key lime pies," which is a technique that real key limers frown deeply upon. Luckily Warren was around to juice all 24 key limes (which yielded approximately 1.25 cups of key lime juice. Totally worth it. Especially if you don't have to do the work).
See where I'm standing, on that faintly raised lump of grass? That would be a mound. Supposedly these are shaped as bears and birds, but they basically look like a bunch of small hills in a small field. But it was beautiful and serene and I scored a shot of Warren G. looking pensive (a rare thing indeed:).
And yes, that is a grey argyle sweater draped casually around his shoulders. (By the way, I 100% approve of the beard. What do you think--yay or nay?) We then made our way to an adorable town called McGregor, nestled just across the river from Wisconsin. McGregor, for you Iowa neophytes, is the birthplace of the Ringling Brothers' Circus.
It is also known for being "quaint." See the old timey buildings?
And the "jail"? Totally awesome.
Since we were only four miles away from Wisconsin and a statue garden we decided to check it out. We found the garden, filled with a whopping two statues. Luckily, on the way back into Iowa we saw signs for the Effigy Mounds. Official signs. Written on the National Park Service's signature wood with block lettering and everything. We followed them. The signs kept coming. It was an incredibly well-marked road. When we arrived there was a visitor's center, a parking lot, lights. It was also very closed...but at least we found them. This weekend we also went to the Field of Dreams (dreams really do come true) and Wilton's very own Beaver Den to indulge in the scandalously named "beaver balls"--"World famous beaver balls," at that. We were at the top of our game. Also, we saw our first wild bald eagle. Those things are huge. Just another treasure you can seen in Iowa. Don't you totally want to visit? We will sit on the banks of the Mississippi and tell each other stories.
We Also took a road trip up to the Effigy Mounds (Native American burial mounds in NE Iowa). GoogleMaps proved to be a royal fail and led us down some unmarked dirt roads, through a farmer's field, under some railroad tracks (literally), and to the river (dead end). Nice work. But after some snooping--that may or may not have included harassing an elderly couple we found strolling out of the woods, map in hand, which we snagged--we finally located the "mounds."
See where I'm standing, on that faintly raised lump of grass? That would be a mound. Supposedly these are shaped as bears and birds, but they basically look like a bunch of small hills in a small field. But it was beautiful and serene and I scored a shot of Warren G. looking pensive (a rare thing indeed:).
And yes, that is a grey argyle sweater draped casually around his shoulders. (By the way, I 100% approve of the beard. What do you think--yay or nay?) We then made our way to an adorable town called McGregor, nestled just across the river from Wisconsin. McGregor, for you Iowa neophytes, is the birthplace of the Ringling Brothers' Circus.
It is also known for being "quaint." See the old timey buildings?
And the "jail"? Totally awesome.
Since we were only four miles away from Wisconsin and a statue garden we decided to check it out. We found the garden, filled with a whopping two statues. Luckily, on the way back into Iowa we saw signs for the Effigy Mounds. Official signs. Written on the National Park Service's signature wood with block lettering and everything. We followed them. The signs kept coming. It was an incredibly well-marked road. When we arrived there was a visitor's center, a parking lot, lights. It was also very closed...but at least we found them. This weekend we also went to the Field of Dreams (dreams really do come true) and Wilton's very own Beaver Den to indulge in the scandalously named "beaver balls"--"World famous beaver balls," at that. We were at the top of our game. Also, we saw our first wild bald eagle. Those things are huge. Just another treasure you can seen in Iowa. Don't you totally want to visit? We will sit on the banks of the Mississippi and tell each other stories.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Remember Raffi? He (along with Wee Sing and Janet & Judy) came on every road trip I ever took as a child. "Baby Beluga" is single-handedly responsible for my love of large aquatic mammals. Anyway, Raffi is awesome and so is this song. Just wait for the hand clap break down at the end. And the outfits are breathtaking.
I just fell back in love.
creepy & amazing
I just fell back in love.
creepy & amazing
happy november first!
a lovely song by noah & the whale
The First Days of Spring Official Trailer from charlie fink on Vimeo.
a lovely song by noah & the whale
The First Days of Spring Official Trailer from charlie fink on Vimeo.
is it insane that i started crying after reading about this amazing robot?
"In New York, we are very occupied with getting from one place to another. I wondered: could a human-like object traverse sidewalks and streets along with us, and in so doing, create a narrative about our relationship to space and our willingness to interact with what we find in it? More importantly, how could our actions be seen within a larger context of human connection that emerges from the complexity of the city itself? To answer these questions, I built robots.
Tweenbots are human-dependent robots that navigate the city with the help of pedestrians they encounter. Rolling at a constant speed, in a straight line, Tweenbots have a destination displayed on a flag, and rely on people they meet to read this flag and to aim them in the right direction to reach their goal.
Given their extreme vulnerability, the vastness of city space, the dangers posed by traffic, suspicion of terrorism, and the possibility that no one would be interested in helping a lost little robot, I initially conceived the Tweenbots as disposable creatures which were more likely to struggle and die in the city than to reach their destination. Because I built them with minimal technology, I had no way of tracking the Tweenbot’s progress, and so I set out on the first test with a video camera hidden in my purse. I placed the Tweenbot down on the sidewalk, and walked far enough away that I would not be observed as the Tweenbot––a smiling 10-inch tall cardboard missionary––bumped along towards his inevitable fate.
The results were unexpected. Over the course of the following months, throughout numerous missions, the Tweenbots were successful in rolling from their start point to their far-away destination assisted only by strangers. Every time the robot got caught under a park bench, ground futilely against a curb, or became trapped in a pothole, some passerby would always rescue it and send it toward its goal. Never once was a Tweenbot lost or damaged. Often, people would ignore the instructions to aim the Tweenbot in the “right” direction, if that direction meant sending the robot into a perilous situation. One man turned the robot back in the direction from which it had just come, saying out loud to the Tweenbot, "You can’t go that way, it’s toward the road.”
The Tweenbot’s unexpected presence in the city created an unfolding narrative that spoke not simply to the vastness of city space and to the journey of a human-assisted robot, but also to the power of a simple technological object to create a complex network powered by human intelligence and asynchronous interactions. But of more interest to me was the fact that this ad-hoc crowdsourcing was driven primarily by human empathy for an anthropomorphized object. The journey the Tweenbots take each time they are released in the city becomes a story of people's willingness to engage with a creature that mirrors human characteristics of vulnerability, of being lost, and of having intention without the means of achieving its goal alone. As each encounter with a helpful pedestrian takes the robot one step closer to attaining its destination, the significance of our random discoveries and individual actions accumulates into a story about a vast space made small by an even smaller robot." - Kacie Kinzer
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