Sunday, January 29, 2012

Blog Assignment #3

http://changethis.com/manifesto/66.01.Brainwashed/pdf/66.01.Brainwashed.pdf

Acknowledging the Lizard:

“The lizard brain—that prehistoric brainstem that all of us must contend with—doesn’t like being laughed at” (Brainwashed, Seth Goodwin). Finally! This awful phenomenon is explained and given a name. The lizard brain likes to hold us back through fear—the worst kind of fear, too. It’s not the fear of physical pain, but of being embarrassed, being laughed at for something that we might have put our soul in. It leaves you thinking that maybe putting all your eggs in one basket you care about, or really sharing your ideas with the world would be bad. People could laugh. Laugh AT you. So, it shuts you down and controls us, making it hard for us to resist following rules and restrictions.

We can stop the lizard brain from controlling us, however, by just knowing that its there, trying to control us. “We acknowledge the lizard so we can ignore it” (Brainwashed, Goodwin).

Connect:

“Social media is either a time-wasting, wool-gathering, yak-shaving waste of effort or, perhaps, just maybe, it’s a crack in the wall between you and the rest of the world” (Brainwashed, Goodwin). It’s not about the followers, or the notifications, or even the inboxes, because although those are facets of social media, there is so much more.

Social media gives you access to the rest of the world, in most cases literally at your fingertips. I can talk to my friend studying in Ireland on Facebook about a picture of a picture taken in Africa, given a funny caption about the British Royal Family, and discovered on an Australian blog site. The possibilities are endless, and as of now it seems like soon we can have everyone connected. We can share ideas, art, and information at levels never before seen.

We have the ability to use an uncontrollable force, and harness it to share virtually anything. “I think this changes everything… if we let it” (Brainwashed, Goodwin).

Fail:

“The reinvention of the marketplace demands that one have the ability to fail, often and with grace—and in public!” (Brainwashed, Goodwin).

No. No, no, no. That is my reaction. Upon further reading though, you discover that yeah, he’s right.

Our old way of life, of being “brainwashed”, of being a cog in a carefully crafted machine, is over. In order to survive in this new world, you have to fail.

But not just to say you’ve failed. That would be ridiculous. No, you fail because you tried something new, and you’re not perfect. So put all your effort in, don’t be Sprezzatura, or have a certain nonchalance, so as to conceal all art and make whatever one does or says appear to be without effort and almost without any thought about it. Challenge yourself, and don’t be afraid to fail.

“And so we demand you fail. I hope you’re up for that” (Brainwashed, Goodwin).

Essay:

A long, long time ago, was my favorite school assignment. It was kindergarten, and all we had to do was play with these tiny baby chicks, then draw a picture of them. We had raised them from just little incubated eggs, to chicks that would soon be able to live on their own at a farm. Throughout that month of being with the baby chicks, I gained my appreciation of animals (I hadn’t had a pet since I was three at the time), I learned how to “take care of something” (I promise we did no real work), and I learned to let myself be loved by nature. When a baby chick volunteers to hop up onto your hand and just sit there, it’s a beautiful feeling. This class assignment had nothing to do with learning my colors, learning how to read, or getting to count to 100 like the state had asked for. Sure, we learned that they were yellow, we read a book about them, and by the end I could count all 30 of them, but that wasn’t the point. I believe that sometimes the less common forms of educating people provide the greatest benefits. As for the blogs, they certainly are different, and I welcome that. Unfortunately, they do not make me a better student, I find that it’s not schoolwork but the student who decides to be better, nor am I a better artist because I don’t feel as though what I create is spectacular, and I’m certainly not willing to display it. What these blogs do well is make me a better thinker, at least while I write them.

Too often I walk away from my homework gaining nothing but the raw knowledge of the textbook. I haven’t really had to think about it, I formed zero opinions, and I’ve made no insights. Talk about a waste of time. Just kidding—I think there is a time and a place for that kind of learning. Which is why there is a time and a place for this kind of learning. So what kind of learning is this? Well, it’s starts out normal, read something. Okay, I did it, now what? Well instead of handing me a quiz with seven fill in the blanks that ask me the seven layers, I’m asked to summarize them and write an essay about if the assignment is useful. Not exactly mainstream, but still helpful. Because now I’m thinking about what I think education is, what I want it to be, what I don’t want it to be, if I have a lizard brain, if I am prepared to fail gracefully, etc. To be a better thinker you start by getting asked questions, then you ask them yourself, and hopefully, one day you’ll be able to answer them.

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