chicken
Monday, June 22, 2009
Howdy. Today, we’re talkin’ farm animals.
We’ll start with a story I enjoyed in this morning’s paper about a couple of Vermont dairy farmers who changed what they feed their cows, thereby reducing the amount of methane their cows emit via burps. (I guess that whole cow farting thing is overplayed; according to this article, most of the gas actually comes from the front end.)
Also according to this article, the Coventry Valley Farm “has reduced its cows’ belches by 13 percent.”
I hate it when news stories leave out the stuff I really want to know—in this case: How do you measure cow belches?
I found a couple of good chicken stories in the paper this weekend.
One is about a guy who is studying the language of chickens to see what all their clucks, chortles and squawks mean. I’m astonished this hasn’t been done before, considering how much chicken we eat. The UConn researcher, Ebenezer Otu-Nyarko (and what a grand name that is) points out that figuring out when chickens are stressed will help increase egg and chicken meat production. (OK, that’s kind of a sad sentence. But we farmers are very matter-of-fact about such things.)
The other story is a biggie if you happen to be in the poultry industry: California has passed a law that egg-laying hens must be able to stretch their wings without touching walls or another chicken. It’s a big kerfuffle, but apparently, what animal rights people are really pushing for is free-range chickens. Personally, I think that’s great. Free-range chicken tastes so much better than the tortured kind. The eggs, too. Look at this photo. The two eggs on the right are from my friend Michelle’s chickens. The anemic little thing on the left is a regular supermarket egg.
And since I’ve been hanging around Michelle and her chickens, I’ve grown to really love the sight of them free ranging.
Chickens are, in many ways, pretty revolting. I had a friend who grew up on a farm and as an adult refused to eat chicken because she had grown to loathe them so. I mean, they’ll eat anything, including each other. But Michelle’s chickens are so pretty and fun to watch—little dinosaurs bustling around the property, living in their little chicken alternate universe. Every now and then, something will spook them and they’ll all run this way or that way, then it’s over and they get back to their scratchin’ and peckin’. And, as night falls, they all take themselves home to their roost and tuck themselves in. Endearing, even if they do eat their young.
I can’t wait to learn what they have to say.
We’ll start with a story I enjoyed in this morning’s paper about a couple of Vermont dairy farmers who changed what they feed their cows, thereby reducing the amount of methane their cows emit via burps. (I guess that whole cow farting thing is overplayed; according to this article, most of the gas actually comes from the front end.)
Also according to this article, the Coventry Valley Farm “has reduced its cows’ belches by 13 percent.”
I hate it when news stories leave out the stuff I really want to know—in this case: How do you measure cow belches?
I found a couple of good chicken stories in the paper this weekend.
One is about a guy who is studying the language of chickens to see what all their clucks, chortles and squawks mean. I’m astonished this hasn’t been done before, considering how much chicken we eat. The UConn researcher, Ebenezer Otu-Nyarko (and what a grand name that is) points out that figuring out when chickens are stressed will help increase egg and chicken meat production. (OK, that’s kind of a sad sentence. But we farmers are very matter-of-fact about such things.)
The other story is a biggie if you happen to be in the poultry industry: California has passed a law that egg-laying hens must be able to stretch their wings without touching walls or another chicken. It’s a big kerfuffle, but apparently, what animal rights people are really pushing for is free-range chickens. Personally, I think that’s great. Free-range chicken tastes so much better than the tortured kind. The eggs, too. Look at this photo. The two eggs on the right are from my friend Michelle’s chickens. The anemic little thing on the left is a regular supermarket egg.And since I’ve been hanging around Michelle and her chickens, I’ve grown to really love the sight of them free ranging.
Chickens are, in many ways, pretty revolting. I had a friend who grew up on a farm and as an adult refused to eat chicken because she had grown to loathe them so. I mean, they’ll eat anything, including each other. But Michelle’s chickens are so pretty and fun to watch—little dinosaurs bustling around the property, living in their little chicken alternate universe. Every now and then, something will spook them and they’ll all run this way or that way, then it’s over and they get back to their scratchin’ and peckin’. And, as night falls, they all take themselves home to their roost and tuck themselves in. Endearing, even if they do eat their young.
I can’t wait to learn what they have to say.
Labels: bird watching, research
flotsam friday
Friday, June 12, 2009
First, for no particular reason, here’s a totally random photo from my last trip to Oklahoma. I have a lot of photos. Might as well toss some out there from time to time.
OK, so, what’s on my mind today?
Well, I’ve had a semi-crappy week and I’m stressed out, so I’ve been watching this awesome interactive music video a lot. It’s a guaranteed stress reducer. Really, go watch it. Use your cursor to move the line. The song is lovely, too. (Worth the wait for it to load, I promise.)
***
Every now and then I get to write an article that makes me very happy. This article, in Southwest Spirit magazine, about the benefits of nostalgia, is among those.
***
Oh hey, check out the polite umbrella.
***
Speaking of nostalgia, this blog of photos of NYC in the 1970s (my NYC) moves me to tears. Look how little the skyline is!
***
And finally, some interesting research:
Here’s research into our friendship networks—evidently, although the size of our networks tend to stay stable, the contents change about every seven years, when we cut and replace half the people Hm. Having undergone a great deal of churn in my friendships recently, this makes perfect sense to me. I’m sure proximity and other environmental factors have a lot to do with friendship turnover, but it’s also a matter of my ongoing re-evaluation of what I need, want and don’t want in my relationships. Also, sometimes I really piss people off. And sometimes, I don’t care when I do.
***
Expanding further on the ever-fascinating introversion theme, here’s research into the social brain, although I kind of resent the way this blogger divides us into “socialites” and “curmudgeons.” Oh, I suppose I’ve called myself a curmudgeon, but it does have negative implications and I contend that there is nothing wrong with liking solitude.
***
And finally, research into a subject I have gone back and forth on a thousand times: couples staying together for the kids, something I’ve seen my parent friends wrestle with. It sounds right, it sounds wrong, it sounds right, it sounds wrong. I don’t know. These researchers say that if the marriage is truly contentious—lots of fighting—kids tend to drink, smoke and do poorly in school by adolescence. I suppose that’s kind of a no-brainer. I wonder, though, about homes with unspoken tensions.
Have a nice weekend. I plan to drink heavily.
Labels: nostalgia, photography, psychology, research, video, writing
return of flotsam friday
Friday, March 27, 2009
Ah, here’s just a wee bit o flotsam for ya, friends. Because it’s been a long time, it has…
To start, some research that caught my attention:
I like this study from the University of Toronto that points out that many people find uncertainty much more stressful than clear negative feedback. Oh yes, oh yes. It’s true. I would much rather know the worst than wonder. Of course, I much prefer praise and strokes to negative anything, but if you don’t like something I did or said, fergawdsake just tell me. If you waffle or leave me to wonder, my overactive imagination is likely to put far harsher words in your mouth than you would ever manage, unless you’re a real SOB, which I know you’re not. No, don’t argue. I just know it.
Another study, this one from the University of Michigan, considers whether we’re better off ruminating or forgetting and moving on when we’re depressed or upset. Well, OK, they don’t use the word “ruminating.” They use “analyzing.” But really, I find that unless we have learned tools for analyzing our own feelings, we’re much more likely to ruminate (and by that, I mean just chew things over in an unproductive manner) than analyze.
Anyway, what these researchers find is that the best thing to do is try to step back, disconnect your emotions from the problem, and analyze if from a psychological distance. Which is easier said than done, I know, but it’s a worthwhile skill to develop. Or perhaps it comes naturally as we get older.
I try to use a technique like this when I receive a writing critique. No matter how kindly spoken or written, a negative critique of any kind initially is a knife through my heart. So the first thing I do is just acknowledge the ripping, bleeding pain of it, then I think, “OK, so I’m not perfect, nobody is,” and then I literally think about taking a step back, setting emotion aside, and just listening. It’s actually an exercise in visualization and it helps me.
Then, when the critique is over, I sob quietly into my pillow for a few days, and get back to work.
Try it.
***
Here’s a nice item about a couple of New Yorker cartoonists who are a couple—as in, married. Watch the video. They’re just lovely. I’m always on the lookout for good depictions of long-time marriage and this is a great one.
***
Not married or coupled? Here’s a great article from New York magazine about living alone and how urban alienation is a myth. (I wrote a World Hum blog post about big city vs. small town life, see here)
Jennifer Senior writes,
“In American lore, the small town is the archetypal community, a state of grace from which city dwellers have fallen (thus capitulating to all sorts of political ills like, say, socialism). Even among die-hard New Yorkers, those who could hardly imagine a life anywhere else, you’ll find people who secretly harbor nostalgia for the small village they’ve never known.
Yet the picture of cities—and New York in particular—that has been emerging from the work of social scientists is that the people living in them are actually less lonely. Rather than driving people apart, large population centers pull them together, and as a rule tend to possess greater community virtues than smaller ones. This, even though cities are consistently, overwhelmingly, places where people are more likely to live on their own.”
***
And we’ll wrap up today’s flotsam with the cartoon du jour. It’s so me.
To start, some research that caught my attention:
I like this study from the University of Toronto that points out that many people find uncertainty much more stressful than clear negative feedback. Oh yes, oh yes. It’s true. I would much rather know the worst than wonder. Of course, I much prefer praise and strokes to negative anything, but if you don’t like something I did or said, fergawdsake just tell me. If you waffle or leave me to wonder, my overactive imagination is likely to put far harsher words in your mouth than you would ever manage, unless you’re a real SOB, which I know you’re not. No, don’t argue. I just know it.
Another study, this one from the University of Michigan, considers whether we’re better off ruminating or forgetting and moving on when we’re depressed or upset. Well, OK, they don’t use the word “ruminating.” They use “analyzing.” But really, I find that unless we have learned tools for analyzing our own feelings, we’re much more likely to ruminate (and by that, I mean just chew things over in an unproductive manner) than analyze.
Anyway, what these researchers find is that the best thing to do is try to step back, disconnect your emotions from the problem, and analyze if from a psychological distance. Which is easier said than done, I know, but it’s a worthwhile skill to develop. Or perhaps it comes naturally as we get older.
I try to use a technique like this when I receive a writing critique. No matter how kindly spoken or written, a negative critique of any kind initially is a knife through my heart. So the first thing I do is just acknowledge the ripping, bleeding pain of it, then I think, “OK, so I’m not perfect, nobody is,” and then I literally think about taking a step back, setting emotion aside, and just listening. It’s actually an exercise in visualization and it helps me.
Then, when the critique is over, I sob quietly into my pillow for a few days, and get back to work.
Try it.
***
Here’s a nice item about a couple of New Yorker cartoonists who are a couple—as in, married. Watch the video. They’re just lovely. I’m always on the lookout for good depictions of long-time marriage and this is a great one.
***
Not married or coupled? Here’s a great article from New York magazine about living alone and how urban alienation is a myth. (I wrote a World Hum blog post about big city vs. small town life, see here)
Jennifer Senior writes,
“In American lore, the small town is the archetypal community, a state of grace from which city dwellers have fallen (thus capitulating to all sorts of political ills like, say, socialism). Even among die-hard New Yorkers, those who could hardly imagine a life anywhere else, you’ll find people who secretly harbor nostalgia for the small village they’ve never known.
Yet the picture of cities—and New York in particular—that has been emerging from the work of social scientists is that the people living in them are actually less lonely. Rather than driving people apart, large population centers pull them together, and as a rule tend to possess greater community virtues than smaller ones. This, even though cities are consistently, overwhelmingly, places where people are more likely to live on their own.”
***
And we’ll wrap up today’s flotsam with the cartoon du jour. It’s so me.
Labels: flotsam, marriage, psychology, research, travel
cockatoo brain
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Dig the crrrazy dancing bird.
And read about the implications of this here.
And read about the implications of this here.
Labels: brain science, research
random holiday research
Here’s a bit of holiday-related neuroscience research, about the importance the smells of the holidays are to our ability to makes sense of the holiday experience.
“If, for instance, you walk into a room with a nice, fresh evergreen tree and there is no odor to it, or the odor is not what you expect, that experience will not make as much sense to you.
“You might not be able to put your finger on what’s wrong, but you would know that something about this scene wasn’t quite right,” he says. “There is a whole constellation of stimuli that are part of our sensory world, especially at the holiday season. We put those things together in context automatically.”
Fair enough. We have a little fake tree, but Tom is out right now looking for fresh garland to hang in the living room so we have the scent of evergreen in the house. The holidays aren’t right without it, although it is kind of a stretch to link the holiday with this very general research.
But then Dr. Lorig goes on to say:
“…we are actually trained to ignore odors in most settings. 'You can be in a room that is full of books and computers and telephones and all these things that emit odors, but you probably don’t notice,' he says. 'Despite the fact that the air around us is full of molecules that we can smell, most of the time we don’t. We tend to smell only those things when specifically ‘looking’ for a smell or when something isn’t quite right.'”
I think we smell those things, don’t you? The minute he mentioned the smells of books and computers and telephones, I knew what they smelled like. If someone says “office” to you, doesn’t your mind invent a distinctive smell of plastic, paper, carpet fiber, cubicles, toner, electronics and people? We must be noticing on some level. Maybe, just like the smell of evergreen and vanilla makes us feel festive, like lavender and eucalyptus relax us and tomato soup and sour milk make us nostalgic, the smell of office makes us feel efficient. Or perhaps bored.
That is all. Here’s a random cartoon for you. Made me laugh. Your mileage may vary.
“If, for instance, you walk into a room with a nice, fresh evergreen tree and there is no odor to it, or the odor is not what you expect, that experience will not make as much sense to you.
“You might not be able to put your finger on what’s wrong, but you would know that something about this scene wasn’t quite right,” he says. “There is a whole constellation of stimuli that are part of our sensory world, especially at the holiday season. We put those things together in context automatically.”
Fair enough. We have a little fake tree, but Tom is out right now looking for fresh garland to hang in the living room so we have the scent of evergreen in the house. The holidays aren’t right without it, although it is kind of a stretch to link the holiday with this very general research.
But then Dr. Lorig goes on to say:
“…we are actually trained to ignore odors in most settings. 'You can be in a room that is full of books and computers and telephones and all these things that emit odors, but you probably don’t notice,' he says. 'Despite the fact that the air around us is full of molecules that we can smell, most of the time we don’t. We tend to smell only those things when specifically ‘looking’ for a smell or when something isn’t quite right.'”
I think we smell those things, don’t you? The minute he mentioned the smells of books and computers and telephones, I knew what they smelled like. If someone says “office” to you, doesn’t your mind invent a distinctive smell of plastic, paper, carpet fiber, cubicles, toner, electronics and people? We must be noticing on some level. Maybe, just like the smell of evergreen and vanilla makes us feel festive, like lavender and eucalyptus relax us and tomato soup and sour milk make us nostalgic, the smell of office makes us feel efficient. Or perhaps bored.
That is all. Here’s a random cartoon for you. Made me laugh. Your mileage may vary.
Labels: brain science, holidays, research
full-throttle flotsam
Friday, May 16, 2008
Alrighty then, lots of flotsam for your procrastinators today. A little something for everyone. (Maybe. I don’t know.)
I am happy to report that the incorrigible Jack has become partly corriged. He has adjusted to the electric fence and no longer wanders at will. No more crossing the creek and coming home muddy, no more chasing off the mailman, no more patrolling the alley and riling up the other dogs. He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized by the limits. Perhaps the responsibility of patrolling so large an area weighed heavily on his burly shoulders and troubled his large noggin. His own yard is large enough. So many squirrels, so little time. And so much napping to be done. How is one dog to do it all without some limits?
Now I need an electric fence for the sofa. He is not allowed on the sofa and knows it, but at night, after we go to bed, he helps himself. At the suggestion of one of his many trainers, I tried booby trapping it last night by covering it with newspapers and balancing a couple beer cans filled with coins on the papers, which were supposed to fall off and make noise and either frighten him off or wake us up. They did neither. He managed to fit his large tuchus between the cans, barely even disturbing them. So, back to shutting him out of the living room at night. He hates that. The other night, I had to put his leash on him and drag him out. Literally drag him—he put that aforementioned large tuchus on the floor and wouldn’t move it.
Brat.
***
Slate has a special issue on procrastination (speaking of blogging) which includes this story, asking the question What is the difference between severe procrastination and writer's block?
So, I have this novel I’ve been working on for about three years. I’m in revisions. Ten painful pages at a time. And a half-finished book proposal that’s been collecting cyber dust for more than a year. So slow. I could do better. I know it. I’m not blocked, I’m procrastinating, Because as long as these remain remain unfinished they might be brilliant. If I finish them, their lead feet will be obvious.
Says one expert: "The chronic procrastinator knows he's presenting a negative image, but he'd rather be perceived negatively for lack of effort than for lack of ability."
***
The research corner:
Important news about men and their thingies: First, the International Society for Sexual Medicine has only just come up with (no pun intended) a formal definition of premature ejaculation. I know, can you believe it? I personally have never encountered this particular problem but in case you’re wondering, it is now defined as: “a male sexual dysfunction characterized by ejaculation which always or nearly always occurs prior to or within about one minute of vaginal penetration; and, inability to delay ejaculation on all or nearly all vaginal penetrations; and, negative personal consequences, such as distress, bother, frustration and/or the avoidance of sexual intimacy.”
And, says the study’s main author, “The hope is that more people with these symptoms will understand this is an actual health condition and seek treatment. They no longer need to suffer in silence.”
In related thingie-research: Gastric Bypass Surgery Restores Sexual Function in Morbidly Obese Men—Losing weight may help resolve erectile dysfunction in obese men.
Mostly, it helps them get laid more, I assume.
Having just experienced a highly unpleasant allergic reaction to a drug (my friends got all the gory details, I spared most of you) I was drawn to research into why scratching helps an itch. The study involved 13 healthy participants who underwent testing with functional magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) technology that highlights areas of the brain activated during an activity. Participants were scratched on the lower leg with a small brush. The scratching went on for 30 seconds and was then stopped for 30 seconds – for a total of about five minutes.
“To our surprise, we found that areas of the brain associated with unpleasant or aversive emotions and memories became significantly less active during the scratching,” said Yosipovitch. “We know scratching is pleasurable, but we haven’t known why. It’s possible that scratching may suppress the emotional components of itch and bring about its relief.”
So scratching is not really physical relief, it’s emotional. Which, when you think about it makes sense. Itching is so miserable … a persistent itch makes you want to scream, cry, bang your head repeatedly against a wall. Finally succumbing to the urge to scratch? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s more than physical relief. It’s bliss—however short lived and guilty, since we know we shouldn’t scratch.
The rash is fading and I will never take Aleve again.
Here’s a fun read from the Wall Street Journal, about retail therapy. Yup, psychologists and neuroscientists are studying that, too. Not to help us, mind you. To help retailers.
But keep this in mind—just like those little 100-calorie size snack packs of cookies and other treats can help us eat less, how we carry money can help us spend less, according to one study: Students were given $100 in pretend cash to participate in a gambling study. Some students received one sealed envelope with all the money, and others got 10 sealed envelopes that each contained $10. Individuals with multiple envelopes tended to spend less, sometimes half of what the people with the single envelope spent. "The power of partitioning can reduce spending by 50 percent," Cheema said.
I don’t like carrying lots of cash for this very reason. If I have it, I spend it. If I have to go back to the ATM, I become more aware of my spending. (And I am on near-lockdown on credit cards right now. Not complete, but I’m staying careful. Baby needs a new tank of gas…)
***
Dunno why it’s taken me so long, but I’d like to point out a new blogroll link—to the blog of my friend Jenna and her friend Rachel. The Haiku Diaries is commentaries on life entirely in the 5-7-5 format. It’s so much fun. I like to comment in haiku when I’m feeling sharp enough.
***
This week instead of just a list of google searches, a little commentary on a select few.
I find a lot of searches that look like this: 2008 contact emails of the doctors @yahoo.com in Florida; email contact women's america 2008@yahoo.com
I was baffled until learning that these are the kinds of searches used by spammers to harvest email addresses. OK, that would explain the ever-thickening blizzard of spam I receive.
Three of my photos have become very popular: the one of a pyramid at Teotihuacan, the portrait of a xoloescuintle and the plastic army men war atrocities. These turn up so often, I assume someone is using them for something somewhere, but I can’t figure out how to figure it out.
Someone searched hillary jillette cunt which I suppose relates to Hillary Clinton and Penn Jillette. I know he called her a bitch. Did he call her a cunt, too? What a prick.
Someone searched Elizabet gilbert eat, pray, love review childfree, which is a little confusing.
Chelle, someone searched you. Someone searched my brother Oliver. And someone searched "black and blue" "rolling stones" tribute band dallas, texas myspace which had a very happy ending, since it resulted in a job for Black and Blue. May 31, Tolbert’s in Grapevine. Glad to help…
And that's Friday.
I am happy to report that the incorrigible Jack has become partly corriged. He has adjusted to the electric fence and no longer wanders at will. No more crossing the creek and coming home muddy, no more chasing off the mailman, no more patrolling the alley and riling up the other dogs. He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized by the limits. Perhaps the responsibility of patrolling so large an area weighed heavily on his burly shoulders and troubled his large noggin. His own yard is large enough. So many squirrels, so little time. And so much napping to be done. How is one dog to do it all without some limits?
Now I need an electric fence for the sofa. He is not allowed on the sofa and knows it, but at night, after we go to bed, he helps himself. At the suggestion of one of his many trainers, I tried booby trapping it last night by covering it with newspapers and balancing a couple beer cans filled with coins on the papers, which were supposed to fall off and make noise and either frighten him off or wake us up. They did neither. He managed to fit his large tuchus between the cans, barely even disturbing them. So, back to shutting him out of the living room at night. He hates that. The other night, I had to put his leash on him and drag him out. Literally drag him—he put that aforementioned large tuchus on the floor and wouldn’t move it.
Brat.
***
Slate has a special issue on procrastination (speaking of blogging) which includes this story, asking the question What is the difference between severe procrastination and writer's block?
So, I have this novel I’ve been working on for about three years. I’m in revisions. Ten painful pages at a time. And a half-finished book proposal that’s been collecting cyber dust for more than a year. So slow. I could do better. I know it. I’m not blocked, I’m procrastinating, Because as long as these remain remain unfinished they might be brilliant. If I finish them, their lead feet will be obvious.
Says one expert: "The chronic procrastinator knows he's presenting a negative image, but he'd rather be perceived negatively for lack of effort than for lack of ability."
***
The research corner:
Important news about men and their thingies: First, the International Society for Sexual Medicine has only just come up with (no pun intended) a formal definition of premature ejaculation. I know, can you believe it? I personally have never encountered this particular problem but in case you’re wondering, it is now defined as: “a male sexual dysfunction characterized by ejaculation which always or nearly always occurs prior to or within about one minute of vaginal penetration; and, inability to delay ejaculation on all or nearly all vaginal penetrations; and, negative personal consequences, such as distress, bother, frustration and/or the avoidance of sexual intimacy.”
And, says the study’s main author, “The hope is that more people with these symptoms will understand this is an actual health condition and seek treatment. They no longer need to suffer in silence.”
In related thingie-research: Gastric Bypass Surgery Restores Sexual Function in Morbidly Obese Men—Losing weight may help resolve erectile dysfunction in obese men.
Mostly, it helps them get laid more, I assume.
Having just experienced a highly unpleasant allergic reaction to a drug (my friends got all the gory details, I spared most of you) I was drawn to research into why scratching helps an itch. The study involved 13 healthy participants who underwent testing with functional magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) technology that highlights areas of the brain activated during an activity. Participants were scratched on the lower leg with a small brush. The scratching went on for 30 seconds and was then stopped for 30 seconds – for a total of about five minutes.
“To our surprise, we found that areas of the brain associated with unpleasant or aversive emotions and memories became significantly less active during the scratching,” said Yosipovitch. “We know scratching is pleasurable, but we haven’t known why. It’s possible that scratching may suppress the emotional components of itch and bring about its relief.”
So scratching is not really physical relief, it’s emotional. Which, when you think about it makes sense. Itching is so miserable … a persistent itch makes you want to scream, cry, bang your head repeatedly against a wall. Finally succumbing to the urge to scratch? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It’s more than physical relief. It’s bliss—however short lived and guilty, since we know we shouldn’t scratch.
The rash is fading and I will never take Aleve again.
Here’s a fun read from the Wall Street Journal, about retail therapy. Yup, psychologists and neuroscientists are studying that, too. Not to help us, mind you. To help retailers.
But keep this in mind—just like those little 100-calorie size snack packs of cookies and other treats can help us eat less, how we carry money can help us spend less, according to one study: Students were given $100 in pretend cash to participate in a gambling study. Some students received one sealed envelope with all the money, and others got 10 sealed envelopes that each contained $10. Individuals with multiple envelopes tended to spend less, sometimes half of what the people with the single envelope spent. "The power of partitioning can reduce spending by 50 percent," Cheema said.
I don’t like carrying lots of cash for this very reason. If I have it, I spend it. If I have to go back to the ATM, I become more aware of my spending. (And I am on near-lockdown on credit cards right now. Not complete, but I’m staying careful. Baby needs a new tank of gas…)
***
Dunno why it’s taken me so long, but I’d like to point out a new blogroll link—to the blog of my friend Jenna and her friend Rachel. The Haiku Diaries is commentaries on life entirely in the 5-7-5 format. It’s so much fun. I like to comment in haiku when I’m feeling sharp enough.
***
This week instead of just a list of google searches, a little commentary on a select few.
I find a lot of searches that look like this: 2008 contact emails of the doctors @yahoo.com in Florida; email contact women's america 2008@yahoo.com
I was baffled until learning that these are the kinds of searches used by spammers to harvest email addresses. OK, that would explain the ever-thickening blizzard of spam I receive.
Three of my photos have become very popular: the one of a pyramid at Teotihuacan, the portrait of a xoloescuintle and the plastic army men war atrocities. These turn up so often, I assume someone is using them for something somewhere, but I can’t figure out how to figure it out.
Someone searched hillary jillette cunt which I suppose relates to Hillary Clinton and Penn Jillette. I know he called her a bitch. Did he call her a cunt, too? What a prick.
Someone searched Elizabet gilbert eat, pray, love review childfree, which is a little confusing.
Chelle, someone searched you. Someone searched my brother Oliver. And someone searched "black and blue" "rolling stones" tribute band dallas, texas myspace which had a very happy ending, since it resulted in a job for Black and Blue. May 31, Tolbert’s in Grapevine. Glad to help…
And that's Friday.
Labels: blogging, brain science, dallas morning news, dog training, dogs, google, jack, photography, psychology, research, sex, sexism, shopping, writing
i might be going about this all wrong
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
I’m going to be unoriginal today and turn you on to one of The New York Times’ most emailed articles of the day. The article discusses research at M.I.T. into our reluctance to let any of our options go. We are simply unwilling to close any doors to ourselves, even though leaving options open isn’t always to our benefit.
It is an interesting concept and one I need to chew on a while, since one of my mantras, when it comes to making decisions, is that except for suicide, murder and having a baby, there are no choices we can make that can’t be un-made, one way or another. I find that comforting. However looked at it through the lens of this research, I realize it might also be self-defeating in some way. By leaving too many options open, are we entering each new endeavor with less than the commitment necessary to succeed?
I remember when Tom and I finally decided to get married after living together for five years, a friend who had also lived with her husband before marrying told me she found marriage a relief because it signaled, “the end of ambivalence.”
Yes, there was relief to making our default setting “together.” In a way, the commitment was freeing. In a way, before you firmly close doors, you force yourself to make the same decisions daily. How exhausting.
Perhaps this is a new way to visualize the tired concept of “closure.” The moment we close a door and stop giving ourselves the option to waffle and reconsider (be it a concrete decision or in a response to pain) we allow ourselves to move freely forward.
The article is pegged to a book called Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions
.And here's a link to the original research (in PDF form).
Labels: personal growth, psychology, research
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