Improving Upon the Original

So before it was made famous by the TV show, The Big Bang Theory, Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock was a thing.

In case readers don't feel like clicking through to the Wiki:

• Scissors cuts paper
• Paper covers rock
• Rock crushes lizard
• Lizard poisons Spock
• Spock smashes (or melts) scissors
• Scissors decapitates lizard
• Lizard eats paper
• Paper disproves Spock
• Spock vaporizes rock
• Rock crushes scissors

This improves upon the original by reducing the chances of ties which, with the only the original three options, is statistically (and anecdotally) highly likely.

That being said, "improvements" are tricky things. New Coke is the usual example of innovation gone wrong. Sometimes, however, an established product really requires a total rethinking in order to meet modern needs.

My favourite example of this is the spinning wheel. Given this prompt, most people would think of this:

But, in fact, the spinning wheel has been redesigned and modern day ones look more like these:

The new generation is portable (many fold down and fit in carry bags), space-efficient, and easier to maintenance and repair (or so I've been told by friends who spin). In the words of my friend, Sally, who first brought these to my attention,"It's like someone sat back and asked,'What is a spinning wheel SUPPOSED to do?' and then designed something that did that without weighing a ton and taking up the entire living room."

Often when I consider transportation, I wonder if that's what needs to happen. I remember seeing an interview at one point where someone pointed out that if we were to invent cars today, the proposal would be ludicrous: "Let's invest in vehicles that run on fossil fuels, pollute the environment, require billions of dollars in infrastructure to create and maintain pathways on which to drive, and need replacing or major repairs every five to ten years." 

So where are our successes? What do we lose with change? Can we learn from mistakes?

My current round of edumication is thematically hung up on paradigm shifts in schools. Getting away from curriculum-driven, factory-based classrooms but also needing more documentable achievement and skills outcome targets than traditional child-centred teaching provides. It requires a lot of rethinking as well as a total change in administrative/political focus. It's a daunting windmill to tilt at, especially when we're up to our eyeballs in the trenches. Still, if I didn't think it would get better eventually, I probably wouldn't get out of bed in the morning.

Anyone else out there feeling a sense of revolution in the air? Anyone getting a sense that the more we change, the more we stay the same? It's been a while since I called on my readership for a discourse. Any insights on this, spinning wheels, or variations of Roshambo (that don't require getting kicked in the nuts... or do. Whatevs ;)?

Approximations

Being precise is a gift as well as a skill that takes practice. Mark Twain is quoted on the topic, discussing lightning and lightning bugs. Dr. Beverly Hofstadter on The Big Bang Theory requires it constantly. It echoes the power of naming a thing from folklore and mythology.

The Sarge, in Season 1 of Red Vs Blue, has difficulty pronouncing "Chupacabra" in his eagerness to make fun of Grif and resorts, as many of us would do, to approximating the word. Thus, the "chupathingy" is born. 

To be fair, approximations are a valid use of language. We all have those 'tip-of-the-tongue" moments where we can't recall the exact term we need. The brain files things away in its own special way sometimes. So we have place-markers like "thingamagig" and "whathisface" and "whozit" to fill in until we figure it out. Or we use similar, sometimes related terms/names to approximate what we need. For example, a man I used to know could never remember George Stroumboulopoulos' surname so would refer to him as "Snuffleupagus" instead because he had a better grasp of Muppet characters than pretty much anything else in his life. And I guess the CBC connection made it relevant.

However, the point of approximations is to direct the brain to the precise term you are looking for NOT to take the place of said term. If vocabulary becomes too vague or inaccurate, you end up with the Bushisms that #43 will always be remembered for and all the questionable intelligence that entails. Or you discover that when you REALLY need a precise term that you once knew, you've genuinely lost it. Studies show that early onset senility is as much a case of lack of use as a genetic predisposition. 

Where this shows up on the other end of the timeline is profound - language acquisition in babies. Nouns are the easiest things for children to learn as they are usually visual, tactile and novel. Pointing to something and saying a word is easily interpreted as naming that thing. Acquaintances I met last fall were describing their daughter's pre-talking activity of pointing and grunting at various things she desired. Mum would randomly pick things up and ask Baby,"Is it this? Is this what you want?" until assent was given. When Baby started verbally asking for things, everything was "this" rather than any specific name for an item. It apparently took weeks to de-program that little trick. 

When I was visiting friends in the UK who had a precocious and eager to learn toddler, we had a sudden power outage and dinner had to be served by candlelight. Their toddler immediately reached for the flame of the nearest candle and, reactively, I grabbed his hand and said clearly,"No. HOT!" indicating the flame. He looked at me very seriously and pointed to the flame and repeated "HOT!" and I reinforced the learning by agreeing "HOT!" He did not try to touch another candle that night. Lesson learned. The next night, power had been restored and we were in the living room when he looked up, saw the light fixture in the ceiling and pointed. "HOT!" In fact, anything bright was now "HOT!" Oops. Well, generally, in the world of incandescent bulbs, that's sort of accurate. Net learning for the grown-ups: adjectives are trickier.

Music T Fridays: Home For a Rest

The first week back was an exhausting week for reasons that I can't actually write about here. (So much so that it's actually Monday now. Apologies.)

  

I believe I bought today's t-shirt at the Commodore Ballroom's Saint Patrick's Day show in 2012 which I attended with Vancouver musician, Stars & Ivy. For most of my BC life since university, "Home For a Rest" has been the close out anthem of any club or pub or dance I attended and I naturally assumed that every West Coaster within a decade of my age should know the band and its music. When my husband-to-be (who was born and raised out here) claimed to have no idea who Spirit of the West was, I had to assume that he was seriously b-s-ing me for some reason. In 2011, I dragged him to the Vogue for a show and he finally admitted he recognized the songs but maintains that, until that night, he had no idea who the band was.

 

John Mann, co-founder and front man for SotW, is even dearer to my heart for his turn as The Narrator in the Arts Club production of Blood Brothers back in 2011. I refer to Blood Brothers as my "sentimental favourite" musical since the general "favourite" musical often shifts over time. The Arts Club production was probably my tenth time seeing the show performed and the choices they made for a more intimate show were effective and creative. Mann, as The Narrator - a character device who carries much of the momentum of the show - was powerful in his delivery and did the necessary lurking with grace and presence. Willy Russell created in Blood Brothers a show wherein the plot, in a manner of speaking, is a character in itself, with its own motivation and vocation separate from the choices of the characters. Whether it is driven by superstition, pre-destination, or class, is a question left to the audience to decide.

I also remember that at my very first SotW concert, Mann was the one who threatened to leave the stage if the audience didn't stop trying to mosh and injure the folks at the front of the stage. I thought that was the most refreshingly responsible thing I'd ever heard a musician say. I was probably nineteen at the time but understood that there are a select number of bands out there, of which SotW is one, that recognize their fans as more than just ego-boosters and cash-cows. The loyalty of SotW's fanbase spawns from the band's respect for others as well as their consistent focus on the music and the well-being of the members. I think they perform because they love it and if they ever stopped loving it, they'd stop to figure out why.  We could all do well to take that step back once in a while and re-assess whether we love what we do still. Usually, it's a positive reinforcement for the challenges we set for ourselves. Sometimes, it's a necessary evil.