I'm waiting for my final project of week to reupload to YouTube (sound errors, quality errors, ugh) flipping through this real simple magazine that I bought in Ned. Fact:
75% "How much of the time researchers at Carnegie Mellon university accurately predicted which passage of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone people were reading--just by looking at the reader's brain scans. The November 2014 study noted how things like word length and plot twists ignited brain activity and tracked patterns. For example, when the readers got to the part when Harry learns to fly, blood flow increased in a specific pattern over the brain, allowing researchers to guess which scene, out of two (60 points for Gryffindor!) The findings could help doctors pinpoint where in the brain problems arise for people with reading disabilities, leading to smarter solutions."
Cool. On the brink of my curiosity rest my instincts. Yeah, I think instincts are synonymous with curiosity, but I'm curious about the concept of instincts. Alynn (resident animal encyclopedia/neuroscience major) and I have been exchanging some thought about thought. Yesterday as we drove to Nederland to pick up spaghetti supplies, we talked in circles about animals, humans, instincts, thoughts, arts, and sciences. They seem to have a bloodline, but what it is is alien to us--for now at least. Undeniably, there is something.
When reading this "real simple" fact, a vision of a colorful ribbon weaving through synaptic eyelets threaded the cognitive collage of my study of these wonderful collegiates I'm studying with. I like to observe who they choose to be, how they are the art they make, and how I am them (or not). It's easy to see when we're all focused on one thing. Example: during lectures, there's a sacred sort of sentience. I think our age range spans 22 years, Easton the youngest, is 20. Collectively we've been in school for more than a lifetime. We're totally normalized to the process of sitting, listening, understanding (hopefully), communicating, and then going away. When our perceptive attention is so unified, I find our subconscious animal bodies squirming en-pack, ripples of the same wave. John's a shuffle, Matt a scooch. Ariana and Alynn cross their legs, and I find my arms crossed like Ben's. Harmony.