Battle of the Siblings

My brother is seven years younger than I am, thus when asked how Bailey and I get along I always respond-- "we get along great, because I am so much older we have nothing to argue or fight over. It would be immature for me to pick battles with my little brother." 

Yada yada yada. In all honesty, we don't fight and I cannot say that we have ever entered into a HUGE argument that left us mad for days. But, I can assure you that we bicker. Now, with him leaving his middle school days and entering into high school he is going through a lot of changes; friend wise, school wise, clothing wise, "cool" wise. 

So yes, his "I must be cool and wear the right clothes in all the right ways" act has annoyed me as of late. But, other than "little dude" and "squirt" I can't say I have ever called him any vicious names. Sorry to disappoint. 

Memory Palace for the Muses'

As you can see-- the Muses' are in no particular order and the lack of organized rhythm has proved to be more difficult to memorize. However, after standing up in front of the class yesterday I sat down at my desk and was able to write out all nine muses! So I need to continue to work on my oral presentation, but I am on my way to committing the muses' to memory! Yes this is my "YAY" moment.

Memory Palace Floor Plan

This is my parents house and the house I lived in for five years. It is big enough that I can store many memories inside its boundaries. I used the main floor as a palace to contain the nine-muses.

My Bedroom

 When you walk into my bedroom to the left there is an in-set closet that takes up the full left-hand wall. On the top shelf I hang most of my heels from the edge and keep some of my winter boots on the top. On the second shelve I keep my jeans to the far right. There are two stacks of jeans. Next to the jeans I keep my nice pants, shorts and skirts. These items also take up two stacks. On the far right there are usually a stack of yoga pants with a stack of sweats next to them (they are currently in the laundry basket seen at the foot of my bed). Next there are my clothes hanging from the second rack in order from summer to winter (dresses to sweaters). On the bottom of the closet are all my shoes I wear on a regular basis.

When you are standing in the door frame before entering the room you face a beige wall with a large window in the center.

To the direct right of the door frame there is a large dresser with five drawers. The first drawer has athletic shorts, the second has skirts, the third has undershirts, the fourth has two over-sized pair of overalls (that I wear to Bobcat Football games) and the fifth drawer has all my past Halloween costumes.  On top of the dresser is a TV that is not connected to cable (therefore is never used) with a remote sitting directly in front of it. The top of the dresser often acts as a storage place for odds and ends.

 On the same wall as the dresser there is a small built in closet where I keep all my athletic shirts. On the top shelve there are winter odds and ends and a teletubbies costume (don't ask). On the second shelve there are some of my running shoes. Below the hanging shirst are two, 3 drawer-ed containers where I keep socks and such.

 Still standing in the door frame, if you were to look to the left you would see my brick wall, lamp and bed.

That is it. My room is very simple and doesn't have a whole lot of detail. As far as using it as a memory palace--- I don't think it would be too useful. I have better palaces in mind that contain memorable or more abstract fixtures.

Memory Palace

Before entering into my memory palace you must know I made several critical errors during the early stages of construction. The first being an overwhelming sense of doubt I felt creeping into my mind before I even began to assign “routes through a town.” I selfishly fell into old habits and broke out my notecards and began to write the names of the muses on the front with the description on the back. Which leads me to confess my second and most grave mistake; instead of going from room to room in walking order I envision myself going from bedroom to kitchen back to bedroom to living room to bathroom ext.  Due to my first mistake, the introduction of notecards, I began to create my memory palace NOT by walking through my parents’ house (my muses’ memory palace) in rational order of Muses (C CUTE TEMP) but instead walking in the order in which they appeared via notecard (TETEMPUCC). Sadly, once this mistake had been made it seemed all but impossible to rearrange the order in my mind. I had created to memory an order that made sense at first, but now as I mentally walk through my parents’ house I find myself visiting EVERY room searching for stowed memories, rather than letting the muses’ dictate my memories path. But alas, I will do my best to reconstruct for you the madness that has become my parents’ home.

My palace begins in the bathroom where Thalia, having just showered, is wrapped in a hideous orange and purple towel. With her index finger she writes on the fogged mirror T hahahahhaha lia (Thalia- Muse of Comedy).

Hearing loud pitched squeaks followed by sounds of a broken piano, I make my way to the living room where our piano lives. As I enter I can see Euterpe (who looks like Louise, a girl who studied abroad with in Europe) dancing on top of the piano keys holding my flute attempting unsuccessfully to play two instruments at once (Euterpe-Muse of Song).

To escape the awful noise I run to my parents room and bury my head under the bed pillows. When the noise stops I look outside my parents window to see Terpsichore in an old ballroom dress dancing by the hickory tree. Her dress is so large and bulky that she continually trips over the fabric thus making her dance seem skittish and clumsy (Terpsichore- Muse of Dancing).

I can hear the clicking noise of the fire starter in the living room and seeing as the awful music had halted I make my way back to the living room. To the right of the room I can see Erato starting a fire in her usual scandalous outfit. Once the fire has warmed the room she sits down and begins to write a letter to her convicted lover behind bars. When I look over her shoulder to see what she has written I blush due to the erotic content her letter contains (Erato- Muse of Love Poetry).

I am startled by racket coming from the kitchen and turn to see Malpomene lavishly making a fruit salad while being watched by an audience of men. She dramatically slices melons and juices pomegranates all while the men clapped and laughed at her performance. Suddenly she becomes distracted by her audience and chops off her right pinky finger (Melpomene-Muse of Tragedy).

I then venture back into my parents room only to find Polyhymnia jumping on my parents bed wearing an awful blood orange polyester jacket complete with a cross-necklace bouncing on and off her chest. She is singing a church hymn causing her mouth to be open so wide I can see her “dangly thing” moving rapidly back and forth (Polyhymnia- Muse of Hymns).

Just then I remember the newest episode of Modern Family is posted online and I go into the green room (what my family calls the computer room) to find the Modern Family episode on commercial. This commercial somewhat resembles the Jimmy Dean Breakfast commercials but instead of a man wearing a sun costume there is a man wearing a Planet Uranus costume orbiting around the sad woman who has no energy because she has not had her astronomical breakfast yet ( Urania- Muse of Astronomy)

While Modern Family is still on commercial I decide to go get a snack from the kitchen. When I look to the wall besides the refrigerator I notice the painting of a sun has been replaced with Calliope wearing a shirt reading "EPIC" sitting on a toilet holding her hand out for more toilet paper (Calliope- Muse of Epic Poetry).

After getting a snack I glance in the dinning room to see my 8th Grade History teacher (Mrs. Jackson) sitting at our dinning room table teaching a non-exsistant room of students about Cleopatra. Instead of wearing a garnished Egyptian head piece Mrs. Jackson is wearing a cheese-head (Packers fan) and in her left hand she holds a lit cigarette (Clio- Muse of History). 

I think it is only fair to tell you I have gone back and edited my story/blog. In the begging I just listed the muses and their rooms. But after returning to my Memory Palace I realized if I could make my path through my parents house a logical story I would have more luck remembering each Muse and the room in which they exist.

Average--- I am not buying it.

Okay, I am still slightly Google stalking Joshua Foer. The thought of memorizing 100 words has me incredibly intimidated. I continually return to Mr. Foer’s word “average” and as a matter of self-preservation I have decided to research further just how “average” he is. As I am still in the beginning stages of training my brain to remember more than eight words, it would comfort my soul to know     Mr. Foer is secretly a closet-genius thus making it perfectly normal for me to be terrified of 100 words.

Come to find out, Mr. Foer is the younger brother of New Republic editor Franklin Foer and novelist Jonathan Safran Foer. He is the son of Esther Foer, president of a public relations firm, and Albert Foer, a think-tank president. In 2004, he graduated from Yale University and is married to Dinah Herlands, a medical student at Yale, whom he met while an undergraduate at Yale.

Average? Pshhhh I say it was in his genes to become U.S. Memory Champion.

Maybe I am I trying to find any excuse NOT to train my brain. Maybe I am dreading the task of 100 words. Still…

Joshua Foer

I cannot get enough of Joshua Foer. Obsessed? No, but fascinated. I finished Moonwalking with Einstein and wanted to know more about this freelance journalist that had kept me buried in his pages. Somewhere between “THE OK PLATEAU” and “THE TALENTED TENTH,” I took a mental break and turned to the cover flap that highlighted Mr. Foer’s written accomplishments. Much to my shock, the same mental athlete that won the U.S. Memory Championship had written for Esquire. On Esquire’s webpage the magazine is said to be “designed as a forum to deal with the changing role of the American male in today's society. This monthly magazine will appeal to men who are interested in maintaining awareness of current events and living trends.” Trends— this linguistic term left me feeling like Ed while he described western education. If Mr. Foer’s article was early a “trendy subject” maybe our memories will continue to be as degenerate as the western education system. In the article featured in Esquire, Mr. Foer writes about a man who can speak only with his eyes. After a car crash this man suffered from locked-in syndrome, which means that while his brain seems to retain most of its function, the only part of his body he can control is his eyes. The article focused on the hopeful future of brain-implanted technology. Although science was optimistic, the likelihood of the man recovering his ability to express himself seemed despairing. I digress. The reason this article stood out to me was not the content itself, but the magazine that published it. Media seems to latch on to an idea, play with it for a while, and then toss it to the curb. The remarkable feats our brains are capable of accomplishing seem mind-blowing and for that, the media has attached some worth. But what astounds me is the fact that I am just now (at the age of 21) learning how to learn in a manner that will literally rehabilitate my education. So yay. Great. Mr. Foer’s article was featured in a “trendy” men’s magazine. But that doesn’t seem like enough to be taken seriously. Yes, I know he has also written articles that have appeared in National Geographic, The New York Times, The Washington Post and Slate (I read the back cover), but it seems outrageous that more highly regarded public/political figures are not talking about his research. I am with Ed on this one; the United States has the ability, more like the responsibility, to change the education system and still we are satisfied with leaving children behind?  Grrrr…

First Impressions

College is consumed by the strenuous and sometimes relentless reminder of pending graduation. I often find myself more concerned with credit counts and grade point averages and less concerned with retaining class material and cultivating intellectual growth. The whole process seems tedious; I sign up for classes, do the work, take the tests, write the papers, and leave with a few more credits than I had before. If I am lucky I will remember the general gist of the class and a few highlights. Yet, as I look back, I can’t help but realize how unsustainable this process seems. No graduate dreams of leaving college with nothing but a piece of paper, but rather the knowledge and inspiration to go out into the world make something of him/her self. Unsurprisingly I signed up for LIT 337 because it was a required course, I had no impression of what the class entailed, and honestly I had no expectations. However, as I begin to read Joshua Foer’s personal account, I become more and more fascinated by this idea of “the memory palace.” Our class discussions have been engaging and I am eager to exercise the ability of my brain. My only regret is not taking this class sooner.