Spotlight: NOVA - Secret of the Wild Child
In the fall of 1970, social workers took custody of a 13-year-old child who had spent much of her life chained to a potty chair in her bedroom. She could not speak, walk, or respond to other people. She was called “Genie.” Her case attracted psychologists who were interested in finding out whether she could still learn to speak. At the time, some linguists, led by MIT’s Noam Chomsky, believed that human speech is a genetically programmed ability. Eric Lenneberg, a neuropsychologist, agreed with Chomsky and added further that if a person did not learn to speak by adolescence, then the natural ability to learn language might be lost forever. This theory was the so-called “critical period hypothesis.”
Although Genie’s situation was one that scientists would never create intentionally to test their theories, her unfortunate circumstances made her a prime candidate for experimentation. Genie was past puberty. If she could still learn language, it would cast doubt on the critical period hypothesis. Ultimately, Genie’s caretakers were criticized for combining their research with her treatment.
Tune in next time for: FERAL CHILDREN
Spotlight: Stanford Prison Experiment
We put good people in an evil place… and the evil place won.”
The Stanford prison experiment was a study of the psychological effects of becoming a prisoner or prison guard. The experiment was conducted from August 14th to 20th, 1971 by a team of researchers led by Psychology professor Philip Zimbardo at Stanford University. Twenty-four students were selected out of 75 to play the prisoners and live in a mock prison in the basement of the Stanford psychology building. Roles were assigned randomly. The participants adapted to their roles well beyond what even Zimbardo himself expected, leading the “Officers” to display authoritarian measures and ultimately to subject some of the prisoners to torture. In turn, many of the prisoners developed passive attitudes and accepted physical abuse, and, at the request of the guards, readily inflicted punishment on other prisoners who attempted to stop it. The experiment even affected Zimbardo himself, who, in his capacity as “Prison Superintendent,” lost sight of his role as psychologist and permitted the abuse to continue as though it were a real prison. Five of the prisoners were upset enough by the process to quit the experiment early, and the entire experiment was abruptly stopped after only six days. The experimental process and the results remain controversial. The entire experiment was filmed, with excerpts made publicly available.
Click “Read More” to see the process I went through to make it! :D
Uploaded by troyosaki on Apr 30, 2011
Music by Ian Zapolsky, Andrew Imanaka, Davis Woolworth, Angela Zhang, Emmett Akeley, and Graham Davis. Sound Engineered by Graham Davis. Cover Photography/Artwork by Andrew Imanaka and Kelsey Wahl
“Slaughterhouse” written and performed by Troy Osaki
“Slaughterhouse” edited by Robin Park, Rose McAleese, Roberto Ascalon, Denise Jolly, and El Dia.
Download available here: http://troyosaki.bandcamp.com/
Friday night parties
and Old English bottles
bathe boys in power
We wear patriarchy
and privilege like an apron
so as to never stain ourselves
with the blood of women
It is the destruction
in our words
we have been taught
From our voice boxes
spilling the chorus
of sexist hip hop tracks
into our anthems
Laughing to the rhythm
in how much
head we receive
when we freestyle
To me and my friends
who’s only way
to speak about girls
is through the size
of their breasts
of their frames
It is in the way
we crave them
When we talk to women
we become slaughterhouses
they are meat to be mutilated
by our kitchen knife hands
We constrain girl’s legs
like young cattle
keep them limber
they do not need to walk
to taste good
we just want them
on their knees
We hang women’s spirits
where they swing
from side to side
so they can never
We replace respect
with pet names
Gutting their figures
with guillotine vocal chords
It is our language
breaking me off
every time we batter
with shattering slang
leave them broken
crawling for any scrap of dignity
we haven’t sawed off
with jagged teeth
girls learn to swallow
to teach boys
to become good men
when we applaud
half naked bodies
salivating for the split
of open legs
There are times
where I come from
that every woman
is someone’s daughter
Women are not meat
processed or ready for purchase
is not an industry
to be owned
I am sorry
for every serrated sentence
I have ever carved
into your skin
Crumbling your spirits
with my own insecurities
never owning up
to any of my mistakes
or holding other men
responsible for theirs
I’ll wipe the blood
from these blades
and hang up these words
(recipe ingredients and written instructions at the bottom)
I’m sorry. I know it’s Monday morning and you probably came here for some pretty pictures of food that you could glance at, and then move on with your day… and here I go thrusting warm, soft cinnamon sugar bread in your face.
It’s not fair. I know it’s not fair. I know that now you’re craving cinnamon rolls, and cream cheese frosting and chili fries and hot dogs. I am too… and I already ate half of this warm bread.
You don’t deserve this sort of torture.
This bread hits all the comfort spots in my soul. It’s yeasty and soft. It’s filled with cinnamon and sugar. AND! You pull it apart in sheets. And you eat it… all. Eat it all. Make this. Make it and eat it all. Make it and eat it all all all all all… then the torture will be done.
I’m sorry and you’re welcome and I love you.
Let’s start at the beginning. We’re making a yeasted dough, rolling it out flat, covering it in butter, cinnamon and sugar, and slicing it into little squares. The squares are then stacked into a loaf pan and baked.
I did this all without the use of a stand mixer and dough hook. I stirred and kneaded by hand… it was way easy.
This dough can be made and left to rise , then refrigerated overnight for use in the morning. The cold dough is a bit easier to roll out than room temperature dough… but I made this recipe without chilling the dough overnight, and I had success.
This is the dough just before it’s left to rise. It looks a little wet, right? Yea… this is a bit of a sticky dough. Try to resist loading the dough up with a ton of flour… it should be sticky.
After the dough has rested and risen for an hour, I knead it in a few tablespoons of flour. It’s soft, and no longer sticky… and just a little pillow of heaven.
This is the part in the bread process where you can wrap the dough and place it in the fridge to rest overnight. Once you’re ready to work with it, let the dough sit on the counter for about 30 minutes before rolling out.
I worked with my dough right away. I rolled it 12-inches tall and about 20-inches long. Then I slathered it with browned butter, cinnamon, and sugar.
I can’t even deal.
I sliced the dough, vertically, into six long strips. I stacked em. I sliced em into six little stacks of dough squares.
I drooled a little.
This is the dough stacked into a greased and floured 9×5-inch loaf pan… then I prayed for the patience to wait for this dough to rise again.
After 30 minutes in the oven… oh man…. bread heaven.
I carefully took the bread out of the pan while still warm. It sunk and oozed just a bit, but it was so delicious warm. Incredible. Warm pull-apart yeasty sugar dough. I don’t know what other words you want me to say.
Cinnamon Sugar Pull-Apart Bread
Makes: one 9x5x3-inch loaf
Recipe adapted from HungryGirlPorVida
For the Dough:
2 3/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 1/4 teaspoons (1 envelope) active dry yeast
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 ounces unsalted butter
1/3 cup whole milk
1/4 cup water
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
For the Filling:
1 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon fresh ground nutmeg
2 ounces unsalted butter, melted until browned
In a large mixing bowl (I used just the bowl of my stand mixer) whisk together 2 cups flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. Set aside.
Whisk together eggs and set aside.
In a small saucepan, melt together milk and butter until butter has just melted. Remove from the heat and add water and vanilla extract. Let mixture stand for a minute or two, or until the mixture registers 115 to 125 degrees F.
Pour the milk mixture into the dry ingredients and mix with a spatula. Add the eggs and stir the mixture until the eggs are incorporated into the batter. The eggs will feel soupy and it’ll seem like the dough and the eggs are never going to come together. Keep stirring. Add the remaining 3/4 cup of flour and stir with the spatula for about 2 minutes. The mixture will be sticky. That’s just right.
Place the dough is a large, greased bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and a clean kitchen towel. Place in a warm space and allow to rest until doubled in size, about 1 hour. *The dough can be risen until doubled in size, then refrigerated overnight for use in the morning. If you’re using this method, just let the dough rest on the counter for 30 minutes before following the roll-out directions below.
While the dough rises, whisk together the sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg for the filling. Set aside. Melt 2 ounces of butter until browned. Set aside. Grease and flour a 9x5x3-inch loaf pan. Set that aside too.
Deflate the risen dough and knead about 2 tablespoons of flour into the dough. Cover with a clean kitchen towel and let rest for 5 minutes. On a lightly floured work surface, use a rolling pin to roll the dough out. The dough should be 12-inches tall and about 20-inches long. If you can’t get the dough to 20-inches long… that’s okay. Just roll it as large as the dough will go. Use a pastry brush to spread melted butter across all of the dough. Sprinkle with all of the sugar and cinnamon mixture. It might seem like a lot of sugar. Seriously? Just go for it.
Slice the dough vertically, into six equal-sized strips. Stack the strips on top of one another and slice the stack into six equal slices once again. You’ll have six stacks of six squares. Layer the dough squares in the loaf pan like a flip-book. Place a kitchen towel over the loaf pan and allow in a warm place for 30 to 45 minutes or until almost doubled in size.
Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Place loaf in the oven and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, until the top is very golden brown. The top may be lightly browned, but the center may still be raw. A nice, dark, golden brown will ensure that the center is cooked as well.
Remove from the oven and allow to rest for 20 to 30 minutes. Run a butter knife around the edges of the pan to loosen the bread and invert onto a clean board. Place a cake stand or cake plate on top of the upside down loaf, and carefully invert so it’s right side up. Serve warm with coffee or tea.
I think this bread is best served the day it’s made, but it can also we wrapped and kept at room temperature for up to 2 days.
“don’t make me a target.”
Progress Report Apr 14th, 2011 11:55pm
I’m suffering from the lack of creativity. My dorm mate insists of making the room smell sour. I devoted an entire day (and many more after that) to try to identify what exactly caused that particular smell to be emitted from his body, however all attempts remain futile as I was sure it was his feet, then was positive that it was his body oder, and then was certain that it was his persistence to wear the same pair of boxers for such an extended period of time.
I am getting a little bit anxious I guess.
I mean the school semester is about to end and I will finally be able to get the opportunity to fly back home for the summer. It’s funny that I have been adamant about my distaste towards the place I label my school, however, now that the year is wrapping up and everything is about to end I am starting to appreciate the things that I have taken for granted.
My school is boring.
It’s very campus orientated and seeing as though I have been raised in the eventful and bustling regions of Washington state’s Bellevue and Seattle cities, moving to the middle of nowhere to attend a university that has a very nice accounting program and a collection of some of the nicest citizens I have ever met created a sense of hype that initially got me excited but found that the only thing to do on the weekends for leisure was Walmart and Wendy’s.
When I first checked into my dorm, it was the previous summer and I was excited for a fresh new start; a clean slate. I climbed up the stairs of my dormitory until I got to the third floor and when down the hall until I met up with my room number. I didn’t have the turn the key and open the door because the door had been ajar and held into place with a rubber door stopper. I open the door and I am greeted by an exotically colored boy around five foot eight inches who had a prominent nose, short curly hair and a very big smile that was equipped on his face which was small in proportion to his body. Wearing a white and fading Poke’mon t-shirt that featured four easily identifiable pocket monsters on the front, he gave his salutations and offered to shake my hand.
I thought it was funny that the only Korean boy (which was me) was placed in a room with the only half white, half Tongan boy who lives in Saudi Arabia while everyone one else in the dorm were athletically fit Caucasian males from California. As a direct consequence I did not feel like I would properly assimilate to the general atmosphere however now that I finally got to know everyone and their stories, passions, interests, and talents I have grown somewhat attached. With only two weeks of school left, I have never met such a collection of unique individuals who maintain a very strict code of conduct and who are so pleasant to be around. I don’t get a bad feeling after spending a day with and do feel legitimately cared for. Its sad to think that I may never see them again because concluding my freshman year, I will start living in off-campus accommodation and so its that same process over and over again. I would like to think I have learned from this experience and therefore will try to get to know people better when I come back and live in a new place, but I wouldn’t be so sure. I hate that no matter what stage you are in your life, you have people in your life that come and go and although you have their memories (and facebook profiles) it doesn’t feel the same at all.
Can I deal with change?
All I know is that I have no clue if I’m playing the game of life to its fullest potential and all that remains is doubt.
White Cross Children’s Orphanage
by Raf Palencia-Canlas
A collaboration between Greater Good and Weewilldoodle!
Shot with a Canon 5D Mark II, and 60D
Edited on Premiere Pro CS5
Sunlight - Harlem Shakes
While we’re approaching shave and skin care with increasing savvy, much of our dental care remains footed in antiquated techniques and tools. After having recently researched the preventative measures to keep my teeth through old-age and retain a smile worth showing, here’s a few tips I learned that will help save your smile:
No animals were harmed in the making of this video.
Don’t harm animals, dummy.
“Helena Beat” by Foster the People
thankyou to TheIdealists.com
I watched Spirited Away with my friend and was inspired to draw the super adorable Spirit duck thingy LOL
These easy-to-make bows will be gracing a few of my presents this year. I’ve found a lot of inspiration in magazines lately. This one is from Whole Living. Enjoy!
Making a Bow (found in whole living)
What you’ll need:
1. Cut the page lengthwise into nine 3/4-inch-thick strips of the following heights:
2. Twist each strip to form a loop at each end. Make a circle out of the smallest (3.5”) strip.
3. Secure the ends with a piece of double-stick tape.
4. Layer and stick, starting with the longest strips. End with the circle in the center.
Kraak & Smaak
This is the video for Kraak & Smaak’s infectious song ‘Squeeze Me’.
A Fingerflipping video for K&S. Duo-directed Andre Maat & Superelectric. Nominated: D&AD 2009. In-book honours for Kraak & Smaak “Squeeze me”.
1st price at music video festival in St.Petersburg and the Dutch Music video Competition.
Dop: Eric Lor
Edit/post: Andre Maat & Superelectric
Innocent Squares Mar 11th, 2011 9:39pm
How does one describe the smell of fresh laundry?
Corporate companies and marketing agencies would like you to believe that their laundry detergent smells something like fresh field or spring season; alliterated words that easy flow off the tongue and although that is great way to get the average consumer to purchase their product, personally speaking, laundry detergent smells like summer days smelt by a much younger version of me.
Before hitting the teenage years (also known as the time I found out I knew everything), I would awake from the my bed which was a modest twin size, fashioning a ninja turtle pillow cover, ninja turtle bed sheet, and a floral patterned blanket which we had in our possession for as long as I could remember. I didn’t need to rely on the alarm clock to wake up promptly at 9:00am, but instead my father’s voice which emitted lyrics of a tune which he had made up, a song sung specifically for others to know how he felt about the bright, sunny Saturday mornings of summer.
♩♪♫♬ WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MOOORRRRNNNINNNGGGGGG ♩♪♫♬
Rubbing my eyes and confirming my consciousness, I open my door to be greeted by a gust of wind which filled my lungs with a Summer’s breeze - all the windows of the house are open and the door is open as well. My dad would exit his bedroom door, as I assume he was hanging the bed sheets on the master room’s balcony to air them out, and as we meet each other’s gaze he would give me his salutations in a jolly voice I would assume Santa would fashion and ask me if wanted an omelet.
His omelets were one of a kind:
The taste is indescribable but I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it completely because he would tell me that there was work to be done. Saturday mornings was a time to clean the house and vacuum (because it was my dad’s day off from work every week). I would help him around the house and I would also beg him to let me try the vacuum cleaner because I was stuck in the mindset of thinking that I would be extremely good at it. Having the vacuum cleaner be as tall as me I would have to tilt it all the way to accomplish anything and when I finished vacuuming my dad would tell me how proud he was of me and then re-vacuum the house getting all the spots that I have missed.
By this time a little after noon, my mom would come home and the clean laundry would be spread out along the floor of my parent’s bedroom. She always stopped by the Korean video store that was near our house (a very shady operation that probably wouldn’t comply with today’s anti piracy laws, but hey, it was a different time) and play the Korean drama VHS in the television in her room as she sat down to fold the laundry. The laundry would have flatten marks on them because while she folded the various clothing and apparel, I would be rolling on top of the laundry as I would love the feeling the fresh clothes and sunlight had on my skin. My mom folded everything but the towels, along side next to her would be a pile of towels that we used around the house and when she encountered a towel among the mountain of laundry she would place it with the collection of other towels beside her.
She did this specifically for me.
You see, my mom knew I loved folding the towels because they were the easiest to fold and they could be shaped in perfect squares and rectangles and when finished would be stacked on top of each other having the biggest on the bottom and smallest on the top. I remember watching the Korean dramas and not paying attention to it at all because I would too busy matching up the corners as perfect as any adolescent child could do.
I’m going to contrast this to my life now. I wake up every Saturday not promptly at 9:00am by the sound of my dad’s voice, but instead dreading to see what time is going to be shown on the screen of my cell phone placed right beside me. I find myself on the floor and not on the bed, a horrible habit that I have developed in order to avoid REM sleep, therefore I am able to wake up every morning by the sound of an alarm or voice from my roommate. The time would flash 2:00pm and I would be to lazy to go all the way to my school’s food court to buy food so I go into my cabinet to fetch Special K bars and drink from the Dasani water bottle I purchased the day before. After satisfying whatever hungry I may have developed from my sleep, I would promptly sit on the chair that hurts my butt because over the many years it had been used in the dorm room that I live in, whatever integrity that the cushion had when it was brand new is now worn out and now it feels as though one is sitting on a block of wood with a piece of cloth around it. I would turn on my laptop and spend whatever remaining hours I have left in the day mindlessly browsing the internet.
What I would give to go back to the days when physical reality truly mattered and virtual existence was only something you read in fantasy books. Parading around my house making noises from my mouth of gun shots or sword swings as I imagined creative situations of war and adventure; swinging around the bamboo Kendo sword I received back when I participated in the sport. Now, hundred of miles away from my home, and desperately gripping on whatever bits of adolescence that remains within me, I look at old pictures stored on external hard drives with a pile of dirty laundry behind me.