Technology Behind

Beheading the Behemoth

Over the winter break, my ailing computer system got some new life to keep it going another year. It had mysterious reasons it never shared with me, my tech or the computer store for spontaneous freezing.  Yes…the winter cold was longer than a snap down here in Sunny Florida and maybe my feelings toward it also grew cold with so many failures to work. But that’s why I had a tech geek repair it. We put in a new powerpack, put the fan and computer console where it didn’t overheat, added a fresh stick of 2 gig memory for RAM and I got talked into buying Windows 7.

I don’t like Windows 7. I have the Ultimate version. It’s slow on uploading files. It won’t let me access my camera images. My Adobe CS4 Bridge is so slow I could jump off it and come back all in the time it takes to bring up the camera photo extractor.

I have the Windows 7 for Dummies book but after reading it through and making changes, I think Windows 7 IS the dummy. Vista didn’t give me so many arguments and silent obstinate refusals. 

The bottom taskbar never looks like I want it to. I want  a packed subway car full of Desktop icons and when I send them over to populate for ease of access, they don’t “arrive”. Over and over, in Adobe Bridge CS4, I clicked File>GetPhotosfromCamera….and the little blue circle would twirl and then disappear. Nothing happened. Maybe two hours later, the feature would pop up. I consider this useless technology. I’d rather mop my floors. In fact, I had so much time in-between functions, I did mop my floors; rolled up the large silver outdoor tarp, cleaned the patio, took out all the garbages and ate dinner. 

The only fun I had on the computer today was uninstalling the swaggering behemoth:

 Picasa 3.

Lascaux

"Lascaux - Group Work by Young Artists" with Sirce Kwai Giveon

 Time Inversion

The Armory Art Center in West Palm Beach hired me to teach Digital Art to 7-11 year olds. My lessons were prepared in April for the late July week of classes. A week before the class began, a snag in the computers left me toolless. 

Without enough time to purchase supplies, I hit the dirt. There is a baseball field behind the Center so with bucket in hand, my supplies dropped in like the sands of time. 

The theme of the week was "The Language of Art". So I started where visual language began: The cave walls of Lascaux and Chauvet. 

An art lesson taught to artistically gifted students has to have grit to it or quickly lose your audience. My homework involved library book research, hunting for rocks and buying eggs.

Presentation of information spanned Humans history by using the  library’s laptop for cave art analysis. The students kids begin to became as amazed as I was by the mastery of animal painting done without notes or sketches. We discussed the colors and materials used in cave art.  

Then came the rocks. These palm sized rocks are the local coral/limestone based sedimentary rocks that Rock Hounds call “Cheese”. It’s considered a disrespectful nickname. But I think that throwing nasty names at stones can make them roll. In the class, they pounded.

A period of ten minutes needed to be announced to the other classes to put their hands to their ears to muff the sound caused by the rocks pounding the sidewalk chalk (also pretending to be rock pigment) into powder. 

After the ten, the eggs cracked. 

Deftly separating the white from the yolk, the students experimented which of the two would preserve the powdered pigment better. By class vote, they chose the yolk. That was my choice as well. 

The backing for the cave wall was regular cardboard. Upon that cardboard was bunched up brown paper attached by glue.

 Now…here was the surprise for me. Normally I know that boys like to make messes. But it was the girls who were on the floor with the baseball field sand and a gallon of glue, mushing and shoving the glued dirt with glee. They occasionally reared up to show me how the glued dirt reached their elbows. 

This may have solved the mystery of  who were the first artists.   

From Spock to Grok

"Future History's"* Present Stage

Both Robert Heinlein and Gene Roddenberry had physical illnesses which forced their looming imaginations to write. Both are my literary heroes. Both wrote Sci Fi genre.

 Gene Roddenberry wrote the classic "Star Trek" which deeply influenced the electronics of the following generations. Our cell phones directly resemble the "communicator" device by purposed design.  Roddenberry’s exotic intelligence was revealed in “Mr. Spock”.

Robert Heinlein's impact on society was not as strong or deep as Roddenberry's but taught us the meaning of empathic understanding [to "grok ].  I grokked “Stranger in a Strange Land” in one night to early morn when I was sixteen.

How can these two dead authors have meaning in this new millennium? 

Humor and Vision.   These two classic writers have made friends with  the spirit of inspiration.  They modeled examples by their stories.   

Roddenberry's use of a technologically advanced fleet of ships was less militarism and more open to comfortable exploration.  After his death, the subsequent  TV "Treks" became more militaristic and less imaginative.  It died completely while flying as the series 'The Enterprise"....the fine cast could not giggle.

Heinlein's invented characters were very independent souls; brilliant, achievement oriented. In the typical perspectives of his time and forgivable sexisms of his taste, he populated ladies and rogues who were very clearly gendered.  Yet with all their clothing stiffness, they had their flair in humor. Heinlein understood the importance of the absurd.

I live the absurd. There can be no other way to live after the intelligent genocide of my family.   My friend, the Blackfoot, also lived this absurd. Together we did not hate our species but have decided to reach out and teach.  We still giggle.

I grok the brilliance of intelligence in the legacy of Gene Roddenberry and Robert Heinlein:

" those who contribute the  most to the world are also those who have the most fun. "

(Quote of Heinlein written by Damon Knight in the introduction to* Future History Stories: The Past Through Tomorrow - Heinlein stories.)

"Who turned down the sound?"

Waking to the Alarm

The last three years of teaching, I have been repeating directions to each student individually although I had just given the instructions/directions to the general class.  "Listening the First Time" classroom expectation doesn't happen.

The first year, my response was in yelling and frustration. The following two years, I changed my expectations by changing myself through study of Autism Syndrome Disorder and related learning disabilities. This new challenge has me soften my classroom rules and use my energy to find intuitive solutions that work for everyone. So now, if the "listening the first time" isn't what the student does, I am patient to repeat myself to that individual who is stuck.

The many educators I have conferenced with have experienced the same educational frustration.

My question is "why are students shutting down from auditory listening?"

Some possible conclusions:

1) three years ago, our nation descended rapidly from an affluent to a struggling nation. My school area, according to the All State Insurance Agent - the major hazard insurer for this area - has crossed over the line to "depression" economically. It could be that the students are reacting to the shut-down at home due to excess stress for basic survival.

2) the predominance of the TV and computer videos as babysitter

3) children do not have enrichment programs with their parents. Parents may drop them off and do chores but children need their caretaker to provide them a safe boundary and personal esteem building. 

The listening skills in the children have "gone to sleep". Perhaps to block their pain, parts of their brain goes on "sleep mode".

Waking the children gently by individualized short instructions is working. But it is  alarming to witness this trend.

"They Who?!"

 Ancient Egypt Self-Portraits

Third grade has been studying the art of self-portraits and how to convert their self- image into Egyptian style. From scaffolds on the face for proportion to cartouches decorating their drawings with meaningful hieroglyphics, they have come to the end of their pencil drawing stage.  Closing in on drawing the final details and background, I brought in my big book on the treasures of Tutankhamen. In gorgeous detail, the earrings and necklaces and headrests (ouch) and rings provided the 8 year olds with their finishing touches.

Out of the back of the quiet room as students merged with the past, a voice said, "And what did the Egyptians wear when they went to parties?" 

Adorable Slyness.

Watch your gas

Blowing up foul prices

Two gas stations across from one another had prices within pennies of each other. So  I chose the cheaper one which was also the easier one to maneuver back into traffic.

I don't know anyone who takes gas pump receipts and neither do I. But I do jot down the price in my checkbook roster. That's how I square up with the credit card company. I have never had a problem before November. In November, the credit card statement came with a $7 charge above my notation. I had no receipt so I couldn't prove anything. And the last time I walked inside to ask the clerk something, he was very aggressive and nasty. 

Figuring this was a truly illegal rip-off, I wanted no part of them again. Later that month, the darlin' angel tapping on my shoulder said...."go on.....blow the whistle on them." I'm not really a fighter but I am from the Bronx.  I grew up where baseball was the Yankees. And they always won. So in December, I went back, twice, got receipts and let the precious proof float around my house in my usual bookkeeping style. I lost one.

The credit card statement showed that twice again, the daylight thieves took $7 over the receipt. 

I called my credit card company and went directly to dispute with the one receipt I put in my drawer. They asked me if I tried to settle with the company manager. There was no phone number on the receipt and without an armed guard, I wouldn't go back inside. No problem...the credit card company pulled all three purchases.

The following month, three credit card letters stated I'd pay only the receipt gas price. 

Twenty-one dollars evaporated like the petrol spill on the guy's pants.

Ever crude smell but dried refine. 

I found the Beef

Cutting into "Western Beef"

With carnivorous holiday guests, my tofu and bean sprouts didn't snap to it.  In the closed Winn Dixie site, a Western Beef opened.  Inside is a tightly packed market that has a slightly outdoor market quality especially in the fresh vegetable isles.  Wearing my winter vest came in handy when I entered the breezy cold inner sanctuary of The Meat Market. Even for a bean eater like me, I felt attracted to how fresh the meat was. Forgetting it was cow, I hunted for sirloin steaks. I really don't know the difference between sirloin or shell cut but the meat stockers do. Amazingly nice that people who work there actually know their product. Furthermore, the prices were far better than Publix. And sorry Sam....Walmart meat isn't fresh. 
Coming off the refreshing vegetable and meat islands, the market experience waned. Most of the products were geared to the large hispanic population and I saw nothing for diabetics as in cookies.  The space in the market was squeeze-through and only sheer politeness in driving our carts kept from crashing. There was little swing-out space. 
However, the market is clean and has primary school colored vegetables on the walls in simple cartoon form. Hi Mr Sunshine! Hi Mr Celery! 


Yes.....a good place for beef. But for chicken, I'll go back to Perdu.