C.T.

Critical thinking I

Strategies for critical thinking in learning and project management

Critical thinking studies a topic or problem with open-mindedness.
This exercise outlines the first stage of applying a critical thinking approach to developing and understanding a topic. You will:

• Develop a statement of the topic
• List what you understand, what you've been told
  and what opinions you hold about it
• Identify resources available for research
• Define timelines and due dates
  and how they affect the development of your study
• Print the list as your reference

Here is more on the first stage:

Define your destination, what you want to learn
Clarify or verify with your teacher or an "expert" on your subject

Topics can be simple phrases:
"The role of gender in video game playing"
"Causes of the war before 1939"
"Mahogany trees in Central America"
"Plumbing regulations in the suburbs"
"Regions of the human brain"

• Develop your frame of reference, your starting point,by listing what you already know about the subject
• What opinions and prejudices do you already have about this?
  What have you been told, or read about, this topic?
• What resources
  are available to you for research
  When gathering information, keep an open mind
  Look for chance resources that pop up!
  Play the "reporter" and follow leads
  If you don't seem to find what you need, ask librarians or your teacher.
• How does your timeline and due dates affect your research?Keep in mind that you need to follow a schedule.
  Work back from the due date and define stages of development,
  not just with this first phase, but in completing the whole project.

Summary of critical thinking:

• Determine the facts of a new situation or subject without prejudice
• Place these facts and information in a pattern so that you can understand them
• Accept or reject the source values and conclusions based upon your experience, judgment, and beliefs

Big Sur Pt. 1 - Arrival

Big Sur last weekend. Camped by the beach. Woke up to, and slumbered against, an infinite deep blue backdrop, crusted by a sharp and bold cliff side. Toward the North, a magnificent blade of hard Earth curved along the coast, and protruded outward toward the Sea. The East mountains, wise as ever, rested low, and climbed into the heavens, piercing the occasional thick white fog that solicited the shallow skies. The road vanished behind the campsites Southern grassy knolls. The marathon bicyclist and sports car fanatics were not shy to scurry by and by. The West was watery and delightfully wicked. In the morning, the Sea and her mate, the Sky, kept us warm beneath a thick blanket of cotton-like clouds. None would wake up to the busy Sun, for to do so would be to exist elsewhere, something I cared not for.

We arrived later than anticipated, around eleven a.m., and were excited to find an available camp space. At first, we were confident that all spaces had been seized, but after speaking with the Camp Official, we were reassured that there were two plots to our avail, and we hurried to occupy the first one we could find. The site was very close to the road, at first I was concerned by this, being that the road was immediately behind our camp space, and that we could see and hear cars passing by at all times of the day. My second concern was with the overall proximity of the camp spaces, our neighbors were very close and in plain sight! I thought this an obstacle for the expected mid-day and late night debauchery. None-the-less, we unpacked our tents and bags, and immediately began our tiny colony.

It was a popular location, and for good reason.The site, which boast about twenty-or-more camp spaces, was perfectly adjacent to the incredible ocean, which could be seen from any of the spaces. There were, however, better views of the ocean, certain spaces offered a more intimate setting, and would prove ideal for enjoying an uninterupted sunset from ones camp with ease. Ours however, was perfect for us. We picked a nice grassy spot, that had more space for leisure than any other site I observed. And our neighbors were as young and crazy as we, however, not nearly as mean and certainly not as cynical; we are a crude bunch, like a bowl colorful sour grapes, but also playful and nourishing.

The local wildlife made themselves known. Cheerful creatures of different sorts scampered around in the dirt, or grass. Black birds, blue-jays, robins, and other sorts would flutter by and grace us, often lurking nearby, hopping along, searching and waiting for discarded foods. Shaggy-tailed squirrels praced around the cars and BBQ pits with playful expression. A small hare chewed grass near the neighbors car. There were few insects, none that were bothersome, not even one timid mosquito.

 Once all was set up, we cooked, ate, smoked, and drank our way into a pleasant existence. We were well equipped with food, snacks, beers, and strange medications. I enjoyed a Corona and a smoke before retiring early to the tent for a mid-day nap.

Burne Hogarth

One of my favorite artist
My Mother bought me his book Dynamic Anatomy when I was young
It introduced to me the human form in powerful, vidid, and wild detail
The men with massive arms, wide chests, and rigid legs.
The women, so soft and elegant, yet bad-ass and intimidating
All nude and free as the body ought to be
I have since purchased several other of Burnes publications
and plan on studying his ideas and techniques in depth
. Thanks B.

Winter Girl

Small, tender, wild, and untamed.
Bright, pure, honest, and ripe.
Loud, quick, hungry, and anxious.
Impatient, impatient, impatient.
But, patient enough.
Eager, willing, and motivated.
Naive, at times, but aren't we all?
Slender, thin, and trim.
Tickled, sweet, and young.
Summer, Spring, and Fall.
A hot chocolate kind of Winter girl.

07302013

So this is what God made man for; sitting and staring at a

computer screen, copying and pasting amounts of monies from

one document to another, not speaking to anyone, letting

your eyes go slowly blind, feeling your fingers cringe with

stinging arthritis. My hair cannot grow happily underneath

fluorescent light bulbs. This morning, like many morning

before this, I purposely laid in bed past 8:30, knowing

well that I had to be at work at 9:00. It is clear, I do

not want to be here. I am asking myself, "So, where do you

want to be?" I'm good at questions. Answers are a different

story. My bedroom is cluttered with toys, toys for a young

man. Several guitars scattered about, effects pedals, amps,

recording hardware, paints, canvases, pens, pencils,

markers, inks, brushes, books... many, many books. Some days

I feel I should limit myself to reading, fully submerge

myself in books and information. Can't go wrong with static

knowledge, can you? I keep telling myself that God made me

for a reason. Has the reason become any clearer since I

first bothered myself with this inquiry? Again, I am good

at questions. So, I roll around in bed, the blankets

neither here nor there, I am buried in endless folds. I

think about Sylvia, my boss. What will she think if I call

out sick for a third day? Probably that I am unreliable, or

that I am actually sick. What are my co-workers thinking?

Boy, I am just the most interesting of all philosophers,

aren't I? So involved with ME. Nothing interest me more

than ME. Call it a generational malady. My alarm clock is

ringing ringing ringing. I am in bed. I want to get up and

play guitar, but the guitar and I both know that I will

only ramble on and on for hours playing unrehearsed garble,

stringing along broken phrase after broken phrase,

pretending to know which scales go with what chord, which

chord goes with which chords, and in what order. Though, I

am particularly good at harmony. Yesterday I tried to sing,

but nearly choked at just the sound of my own voice. Even

when I speak, it feels as if I am forcing air through some

jagged narrow canal. My voice is either raw and ripe, or

cooked and rotten, I can't tell anymore. I remember singing

high notes over well placed chords. I remember at least

being daring.. Daring enough to try. These days I try, but

I have been lazy and discouraged. I am careful with my

words... God, my Mother, an my Father, have placed upon me

great awareness of the power of words. I am what I speak. I

speak what I am. How is it that I can observe the things

that trifle me, but would be cursed with them if I were to

discuss them? Even with myself! Some days I wish to not talk

at all. Nor be talked to, not even by God. Some days I wish

to gracefully float away and become a cloud, one that is

keen enough not to ever drift around the Oakland or Los

Angeles. But one that hovers neatly above my Fathers farm,

or the beaches North of San Francisco, or some forgotten

place in Europe where animals know not of any man, and

birds that are so curious that they would peck at me in

order to be sure of my legitimacy. That sounds ideal. And

what would I do then? Having ditched my alarm clock and the

shroud of scheduled labor that comes with it. Today I

thought of Thoreau, and how he built himself a house. Long

has that been my desire. To build my own house... To be

totally in charge of me and my own means. For at current

state, I would punch each and every landlord in the face

for being so malevolent to the human experience. For that

matter, I would hang each grocer, too. And flay the

doctors, burying them in paper graves; documents, bills,

fees, late fees, diagnosis, descriptions, pills, and

prescriptions. Oh, but where am I? I am sitting in the

administration building of a local health clinic. HA! I

would trip and fall trying to dodge the irony. 

Poetry is...

Open Letters

I'm not stuck. I'm just.. crawling... backwards. At least I'm moving.. I notice the back of my head start to tense up. This has been my life... churning thought into stress and then into physical trauma. Trauma is such a graphic word. Open mouths displaying teeth, arms desparately reaching and searching, whips and chains, a torn and worn out stretcher, perhaps a cot with a devious alterior purpose... Trauma. Trauma and drama. Maladies.. Tumors... Sickness.. Dying...  black cancer... herpes... A.I.D.S... stupid stuff.

All incredibly black thoughts, if you ask me. Black thoughts and fears. These are my modern day fears. Bleh.

Pt. 2

So, how do I overcome these fears? Certainly these are not enemies I wish to someday face, at least not personally. Though, I do think it would be amazing to be a part of the team that discovers how to prevent these things. Much more than prevent, dissolve completely. The purpose of disease is to be overcome, thus propelling the once afflicted person into bliss again. Because we are all blissful, should we allow ourselves to be. It is really that simple. Just be happy. Take your own advice. Discover your personal comfort zone and break it over your head. Build a new one. This is a part of the essential alchemy of day to day human happiness. It helps to be adaptive, asertive, precise, certain, sound, and curious. 

At least, this is my nature... I can stand back and say "Wow!" to give myself encouragement whenever I need it... and I always need it.

So, this chapter of my life takes me from "Aw" to "Wow."

I'm drenched in excitement. 

Same

Not So Daft

With regard to the artistic control and freedom:

"We've got much more control than money. You can't get everything. We live in a society where money is what people want, so they can't get the control. We chose. Control is freedom. People say we're control freaks, but control is controlling your destiny without controlling other people. We're not trying to manipulate other people, just controlling what we do ourselves. Controlling what we do is being free. People should stop thinking that an artist that controls what he does is a bad thing. A lot of artists today are just victims, not having control, and they're not free. And that's pathetic. If you start being dependent on money, then money has to reach a point to fit your expenses."

 ~Thomas Bangalter
                   of Daft Punk 

 

 

Further Thanks

1. Feed your fitness. Starve your mediocrity."

2. “Where you are today isn't a product of your ability to succeed.”

3. "Don't think of it as a challenge, think of it as an opportunity. The universe will never give you more than you can handle."

4. "Strength doesn't come from your muscles, it comes from courage."
5. "It's delicious."

6. "Work hard, so you can play harder!"

7. "Give up, give in, or give it all you've got."

8. "Feel the fear, and do it anyway!"

9. "If they're not burnin’, you’re not workin’."

10. "Last set! Put it all out there and leave nothing behind!"

11. "This is not only the place where you come to strengthen your soul, it's also the place where you achieve success."

12. "Close your eyes, ride your bike, appreciate your body."

13. "Every time you step in here you’re getting closer and closer to your goal. Stay determined."

14. "Some people want it to happen, some people wish it would happen, others make it happen."

15. “You made it here, now make it worthwhile!”

16. “You are changing your body in this moment!”

17. “Don't quit when it gets hard; that is when you build strength!”

18. “If you want enlightenment, lighten up.”

19. “Sometimes what is in the way, is the way.”

20. “Average effort yields average results.”

21. “Find an excuse, or find a way.”

22. “It's not about the strength of your body; it's about the strength of your mind.”

23. "The best things in the life are the ones you work the hardest for."

24. “Pain is temporary, but results last forever."

25. "You gotta give it to get it."