Adventures with Star, Part Two

[Continued from last blog…]

I screamed Star’s name, crying. I thought I had lost her. But Star came running up to me with a gleam in her eye. It was as if she was telling me, “Thanks for letting me stay out all night! I finally have lived life!” Apparently rabbits are bouncy, and she was that morning. One of the things I learned about rabbits from my handbooks was that they are similar to cats by being nocturnal. That explained to me why Star was rather sluggish when I wanted to hold her during the day, and then all of a sudden would get perky as soon as night came. Although rabbits supposedly sleep during the day, I never once caught Star sleeping. One time I was even holding her while sitting on the couch. I fell asleep while holding her. She was very docile and still, but  when I woke up, her eyes were wide open. I didn’t understand when she slept. I had even tried sneaking up on her to catch her sleeping. It didn’t work. She always stared back at me saying, “Hi, I’m awake!”

Star was fairly clever for a rabbit. She knew my voice, and she knew when I was saying her name. After her night adventure in the backyard, I would “forget” her outside overnight often. Eventually, she just lived like a wild rabbit, free except for the boundaries of our backyard fence. But she even pushed those boundaries. Sometimes my little brothers would forget to close the gate, and Star would hide in the bushes plotting her escape. I couldn’t find her one day, so I nervously searched around my house in the back and front yards, desperately calling her name. I found her in my neighbor’s backyard. Apparently the grass is greener on the other side of the fence. She knew that she had done the wrong thing, because she ran away when she saw me.

The next time Star ran away, I searched all in my neighbor’s backyard, expecting to find her frolicking in the luscious grass she so envied from our yard. But she wasn’t there. I searched along the street calling to her. She knew my voice, so why wouldn’t she come out? I searched and searched frantically, and just as I was about to give up, my neighbor from two houses down the street came out of his house and asked if I was looking for a rabbit. “Yes!” I replied ecstatically. “Well, we have her. She likes cilantro a lot.” I thanked them for taking care of her and took her home. She had many adventures outside the fence thereafter.

A couple years ago, Star disappeared from the backyard on what I assumed to be one of her outings, ones she always eventually comes back from. After a few days from her being missing, I started looking around for her in our backyard. She wasn’t there, so I proceeded to search our front yard, and then the neighbors’ yards. I handmade several posters saying she was missing. After a while, I accepted that she was gone. My times with her were priceless, and I hope to have another rabbit some time again in my life. 

Adventures with Star, Part One

I have always loved rabbits. Since the age of four, rabbits were the main subject of all my drawings. I remember one time when I was five years old, I enlightened a few of my peers on how to draw a rabbit during my Sunday School class, and I felt proud of my abilities. I wanted to have my own pet rabbit so immensely that sometimes it was the only thing I could think about. I remember often sighing as I had daydreams of holding a rabbit in my arms, wishing it would become a reality.

Then, for Christmas when I was eight years old, I received a baby rabbit. I was ecstatic. The rabbit was all black except for a white spot on her nose. She was so tiny that I could easily fit her in the palms of both of my hands. I had never had a pet before in my life, so I was scared to hold her at first. When I first held her, she became very scared and scratched me. I cried and vowed that I would only hold her while wearing long sleeves and jeans, but I soon developed a sense of how she wanted to be held and how she became comfortable.

My siblings and I had a debate about what her name would be, and we soon settled on the name “Star.” We figured that since she was all black except for the white spot on her nose, she resembled a dark night with a lone star shining brightly. Lone stars are usually the best view that we have in Houston any given night anyway, so we found it fitting.

I fell in love with Star. She became one of the greatest joys in my life. Most young girls I knew were obsessed with toys such as Barbies, but I had no interest in those things at all. Star was my world. Ruth, an elderly neighbor, gave me two handbooks about rabbits, so I studied them diligently. I learned the best kinds of foods to give rabbits, and I experimented with Star to see which foods were her favorites: tomatoes, parsley, and chocolate. I found out about her craze for chocolate when I discovered a half-eaten chocolate Easter bunny under my bed one year. I learned all about their habits, and I spent so much time with Star, that I became quite adept at recognizing what she desired and felt when I was with her. My siblings always complained because Star would nip them. But I always scoffed at them and said, “Well of course she did! Don’t you realize that you picked her up in the completely wrong way?” They never seemed to understand.

At first, I kept Star in a cage inside. But one beautiful spring day, I decided I would take her in our backyard and let her enjoy the freshness of the grass and plants. Star had a blast. So I increased her outings over the weeks, and my dad eventually built a cage for her outside. So Star moved outside. Every day, I would diligently take her out of her cage and let her roam around the yard, and then I would bring her back in at night.

But one day I forgot to put her back in her cage. I ran outside calling her name, horrified and convinced that I had left her to her death by neighborhood cats.  [To be continued…]

Classical vs. Modern - A Question of Communication

I used to hate most things “modern.” My parents raised me to appreciate all things classical: music, art, architecture, dance, poetry, etc. I looked on things such as rap, modern art, and modernist architecture with utmost disgust and wondered how anybody could like such a thing. I was perplexed and thought that perhaps a large chunk of the population just missed the point. Couldn’t they tell that classical music was better composed? Couldn’t they tell that classical art and architecture were “more artistic”?

It has taken me many years and many more conversations with all kinds of people who have different tastes than I have to help me expand my understanding of music, art, and architecture. I used to think that rappers weren’t as talented. And I thought that people whose art was modern just didn’t have the skills either. But today, I finally made a connection. I was listening to Twenty-One Pilots’ “Taxi Cabs,” which combines a variety of musical styles, including rap, into a unique composition that I think exemplifies the style of Twenty-One Pilots. It was in that moment of transition between rap and the rest of the song that I realized why people enjoy it. Twenty-One Pilots understands the character of music, and they choose to express it in their own way. In the same way that Picasso was able to paint realistically (and well), I think that Twenty-One Pilots would be able to perform music that I think is more “talented” or “skilled.” And just like Picasso, they choose to not express it in that way.

I personally enjoy classical music more than modern music, but I now know that it is because the way I communicate my feelings and thoughts matches more with “classical” styles. People who enjoy modern music relate to that music in a similar way that I connect with my music. Understanding music, art, and architecture in terms of how people communicate gives me appreciation for practically all forms and has helped me to be able to in turn relate to other people better.

I’ve noticed that people are extremely touchy when it comes to certain subjects: music and art (and religion, but that calls for a different discussion). Disregarding one type of music in my mind usually lends to me disregarding an entire group of people who identify with that music. So it really is foolish of me to completely throw away music and art that I may not understand. Perhaps others who I know will tell me their opinions about music and art that are pleasing to them, and that will be a venue for me to better comprehend who they are individually.

Today, I still identify my taste in music, art, and architecture closer to the “classical” side, but I no longer hate anything modern. Just like they are able to appreciate the classical and still choose to express themselves in a different way, I am able to understand the modern and express myself in my style.

Canterbury Cathedral - The Historical Building That Stole My Heart

Studies in architectural history have sparked my interest in architecture. My fascination with architectural history began when I was in seventh grade. For “art” I read a condensed book about world architectural history, which explained the most famous historical buildings in the world, such as the pyramids in Egypt, the Pantheon in Rome, and the cathedral at Pisa. Each building carried a story – one that opened a world of better understanding of history for me. Since I am an extremely visual learner, I have always found it difficult to grasp abstract concepts without drawing them out or seeing a picture. When I began to study architectural history, I gradually became aware that since architecture is built by people, then architecture also reflects the people and their societies, ideas, and values. Living in Houston, where the oldest buildings I have seen are perhaps one hundred years old, I found old buildings to be mysterious and in a way “other-worldly.” But I loved the details and beautiful craftsmanship I saw in pictures of those masterpieces, and I always hoped that I would be able to see in person historic buildings and be able to learn more about them.

In 2007 and 2013, I got the chance to take a pilgrimage to Canterbury with the children’s choir at my church. I was excited to be able to go overseas, but I was even more eager to see in person the historical buildings that defined England’s stories. To this day, Canterbury Cathedral is one of my favorite examples of historical architecture. When I visited in 2013, the cathedral was under the process of restoration. Scaffolding covered one entire side of the building, and experts in historical preservation were carefully attending the stones and detaching the huge panels of stained glass for cleaning. We later received a special tour on the scaffolding and in the adjoining stained glass workshop. What stands out most in my mind is seeing a young lady carefully cleaning one the panels of stained glass with a q-tip. To this day, I wonder how many hours it would take, at that pace, to clean the entire panel. And then I remembered how many panels were in the entire cathedral. I would not be surprised if she was still working on them today.

My heart still partially lives in Canterbury inside Canterbury Cathedral. Since my visits, my love for architectural history and historic preservation has greatly increased. Consequently, I have become involved in the historic preservation here at A&M, Preservation and Conservation Student Society (PACSS). Last semester we toured Calvert, Texas, and we documented the Parish Hall of Epiphany Episcopal Church. After some group designing, we gave the Rector at the church a proposal of interior redesign of the Parish Hall and a ramp addition that would respect the integrity of the historical aspects of the church. I thoroughly enjoyed this learning experience, as it increased my hope of someday being able to work with historic preservation in churches. 

The Amazing Goober

My family has a dog named Goober. Well… we think he is a dog. Goober came to us a few years ago after he was tragically dumped on a freeway in Louisiana. My grandparents owned some land there, and my dad was working on fixing up their house at the time. The neighbors across the road had rescued him and were taking care of him, but they already had multiple dogs and could not afford to take in another. So they offered the dog to my dad. I found out about Goober when I heard my mom talking to my dad on the phone. “Are you crazy? We already have three guinea pigs and a rabbit! We cannot take in a dog!” You know how it goes… Goober ended up coming back home with my dad.

Goober arrived in our house shaven, nervous, and covered in flees. We did not know how old he was, but he had horrible teeth and problems with heartworm, which were things that we needed to take care of pretty quickly. Fleas were also a constant battle for Goober. Goober hates baths. He is convinced the any tub filled with water is a torture chamber, and whoever is the bath-giver (often it is my dad) is his designated torturer. Goober’s hair is also very curly, so he is almost always in need of grooming.

At first, I was unsure about Goober. But in just a couple weeks, I became his favorite person. He is a poodle mix lap dog, weighs less than ten pounds, and resembles the same grey color as most streets are. We joke that Goober is actually a cat in disguise. We originally tried to get him to chase balls and squirrels, but he would only sit staring at us. His comprehension of normal dog activities seemed low.

Or perhaps he is a baby disguised in fur. You know, like the wolf in sheep’s clothing? “Hold me!” he says in his eyes and face. Goober has to be held all day in somebody’s arms. He also cannot sleep anywhere except in somebody’s bed. Of course, I am his favorite, and so is my bed.

We think Goober’s previous owner fed him food only from the table. During the first week, Goober refused to eat any dog food. Once his bowl was filled, he smelled it and looked at us, his face clearly showing disgust. He would wait for the smell of cooking meat, and then he became our own circus dog, dancing for food with his little jig, on hind legs and everything. He was pretty upset that we did not comply. He kept up his begging for some time, but after a week of self-starvation, Goober decided that dog food wasn’t so bad after all.

Goober is now an integrated member of the Wingate family. He is a delight to us, real dog or not. And I know that I love him, because I often think of him and miss him while in College Station. 

10 Tips for Happiness

Many people ask me why I am so happy all the time, so I compiled a list of ten ways to live a happier life.

 #1: Find purpose in life. I personally find my purpose in living for Christ. When I live for Christ, my other purposes naturally fall into place.

 #2: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths." (Proverbs 3: 5-6) I have joy in knowing that God is leading me in His way, and that His will is being done!

#3: Be productive. It may be rough when there is so much on your plate, but persevere, and the end result is fantastic!

#4: Surround yourself with people who uplift you and recognize your special characteristics that make you ... YOU! People who see your uniqueness are the people who will know how to encourage you in your difficulties.

#5: Teach yourself to Love to Learn. In college, I often focus on making the grade I need. However, when I change my mentality and go to class TO LEARN, I find it satisfying.

#6: Smile often! Sometimes I find myself frowning at the ground when I walk to and from class. When I realize this, I start smiling, even if I'm not feeling great. People all around me start smiling back at me, and that brightens my day. If you don't feel like smiling, hold a pencil between your teeth. (I learned in psychology that if you do this, you'll be happier.)

#7: Learn to laugh at yourself. As a perfectionist, I've had to practice this. Whenever I laugh off something I might otherwise be bothered by, I feel so much better. I become not only happier, but also more self-confident.

#8: Get enough rest. I often hear this complaint: "I'm tired...." (I'm good at this complaint also.) I've been training myself to schedule my time well in order to get enough sleep and feel refreshed the next day. It's been (and still is) a struggle, but it is extremely rewarding when I am persistent.

#9: Find beauty in everyday life. For me, this usually comes through simple things like the colorful way light shines through leaves (when I have to get up early), or the fact that somebody smiled at me as I walked to class. It's best for me to remember to find beauty in the morning, because mornings are difficult for me.

#10: Find reasons to like traffic, and think about them every day. Here’s a starter list if you need help:

1. I have (lots of) time by myself when I can just think.

2. I can listen to my music as loudly as I want to, with nobody to tell me to turn it off/down.

3. I can sing as loudly as I want to without anybody to tell me to stop/be quieter.

4. I get friendly waves (often) from distressed people I can let over in front of me. 

How Should We Then Teach?

I am fascinated with education. I don’t mean this in the sense that I am a scholar. No, I am captivated with understanding how people learn and how to better teach people.

Perhaps I was spoiled growing up. My mom knew how to tailor my education to my learning styles because of the individual interaction I had with her during lessons. I learned best whenever my mom drew out diagrams and pictures explaining concepts. On the other hand, my sister learned well from listening. Atticus, my younger brother, learned best by throwing balls and chopping things outside. My youngest brother became frustrated with learning – except when he was able to act it out.

I know it’s not possible for everybody to have such an individualized education, but I have seen a recent surge of parents desiring to take the homeschooling route for their children. When I was a young child, we were the only family at my church that homeschooled. Many of my peers saw me as different, and perhaps a little strange, because I didn’t go to a “real” school. Now, many parents are turning around and asking my mom for advice, because they think she “did a good job” with me and my siblings. It’s rather interesting, in my opinion.

I view the American school system as both a blessing and a curse. Our society is literate and moderately educated, but in making that possible, standards have been lowered for everybody. Since everybody is required to go to school, classrooms are larger, and individualized education is not always possible. Teachers cater to the average learner: anybody who learns faster is bored, and anybody who learns slower is lost. Many energetic children who learn best from throwing balls and chopping things outside have the “ADHD” label stuck on their foreheads and are force-fed pills to make them more calm and standardized. My younger brother, Atticus, who is extremely intelligent in mathematics and science, never needed pills. He just learned about the world through physically experimenting with it.

Even college has made me more skeptical about the education system. There’s a strange phenomenon that I have yet to figure out: grades. People say they’re not important and that it’s really only about what you learn. And yet, everything is centered around what grades you make. People who make A’s are seen as better than people who make C’s. Scholarships are given based on grades. First choices for study abroad are based on grades. As a student, I am torn by this dichotomy.

I have many ideas that I don’t think will ever become a reality. I see a corrupted system that I wish I could make right. But as a Christian, I believe that anything led by people will not be perfect and cannot be without the redemption given through Jesus Christ. I plan to use my love of teaching people to individualize the education of my own children in the future. Learning is fun when you do it the right way.

Making Cancer History

“Making Cancer History” is a phrase that ties in with most of my childhood struggles. When I was six years old, my dad found out that he had a late stage of Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, or as I knew it at the time, a lump in his neck. He immediately started treatment at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. At the time, I was the third child of four in my family, but my youngest sibling, Samuel, was about to be born. My parents were also about to buy land to build a new house for our growing family.

My life immediately changed.

There was much confusion and scare throughout my family and church. My dad was added to the “Prayer’s of the People” list, and I heard his name, Phillip, every Sunday. My dad was in the hospital all the time, and I barely got to see him. I remember that my siblings and I would spend days and sometimes weeks at homes of family friends while my mom spent time with my dad in the hospital. I liked the time at friends’ houses, because they treated us very well and gave us lots of food and toys.

One time my dad came back home after what seemed like a month of his absence. I remember us running to the door crying out “Daddy’s home!” and feeling ecstatic as he hugged us all and asked us to sign his bald head with colored sharpies. But those times at home scared me. I remember that he was in pain and threw up all the time. His treatment went on for about two years, coming close to death multiple times.

My dad is now cancer-free, but the effects of his cancer have affected me and my family in ways most people cannot imagine. I knew from a very early age that I would have to pay my entire college tuition by myself, and so I started working and saving money since I was eleven years old. My family still struggles constantly because of the after-effects. But that’s the downside of the effects. The positive effects, in my opinion, largely outweigh the huge struggles that we face every day.

My dad is alive - thank the Lord! We were raised in the church, and consequently, we have a strong Christian faith. Our church supported us throughout my dad’s sickness.

In my family, we depend on each other. There was always a scare that my dad was going to die, so my family became very close. My siblings and I saw my dad’s persistence to live. The doctors told him he was a rare case and should have died. But he didn’t, because he had something to live for – God and his family.

We know that happiness and success does not come from money. We live without luxuries and don’t take for granted many American privileges. My peers have many worldly complaints, but I try to focus on the blessings God has given me.

"Making Cancer History" changed my life.

The Life of a Homeschooler in a Prejudiced World

I was homeschooled.

Yes, you might have a series of questions for me. I’ve heard them all many times.

“Does your mom teach you?” This is my sweet answer: “Yes, my mom teaches me.” This is my sarcastic answer: “No, my mom hires a private tutor to teach me in her own home so that she can go to work to pay for the private tutor.”

 “Does that mean you don’t have homework?” The clever ones twist this one and say, “So all of your schoolwork is homework, right?” I chuckle. Schooled people don’t seem to have any concept of schooling without homework. This is a secret way of life that most homeschoolers take part in and guard with their lives.

“How do you socialize?” This one is actually quite humorous because it is so illogical. The people asking me this don’t seem to notice that they are partaking in the act of socializing with me by asking me that question. I usually don’t point out their ignorance, because it is not an uplifting way to communicate with people. Instead, I laugh it off. I also usually don’t tell them that I actually have many wonderful friends whose ages range from young children to aging adults, and that I could easily interact with all of them. I also don’t remind them that they are stuck in a room all day full of people that are only the same age as they are, which means that I probably had a better social circle than they have.

“Do you get recess whenever you want?” Yes, and in fact this is actually a much more effective way for children to learn. Children have so much energy and curiosity that it just seems logical they should be using it through play to learn about the world. Why stick them in a classroom all day writing out problems on pieces of paper when they can be figuring out problems in the real world by playing? It’s healthier anyways. We don’t want any more of those obesity problems everybody constantly complains about.

“How do you know you’re getting an adequate education?” This one is offensive. People tend to have this preconceived idea that a home education is synonymous with a bad education. You know, someone’s education isn’t considered adequate until it’s been proven by a standardized test, right? Luckily, my parents made me take one of those tests in fifth grade. (So I can actually empathize with all schooled children who sit through that misery annually.) My “above average” scores on all areas of learning was a way my parents could prove to skeptics that they could actually teach their own children. Isn’t that an absurd idea?

“Do you get to do your schoolwork in your pajamas?” This is my favorite question because I get to make people jealous of me when I scoff and say, “Yeah, after I get up at eleven in the morning!”

I was homeschooled. Do you have any more questions?

Project 1: Non-Points-Based Grading Rubric

I believe that the grading system for our college is corrupt. Instead of encouraging students to focus on learning, it promotes an education that is focused on getting grades. Growing up homeschooled, I understood that grades (seldom used) were to gauge what a student did and did not know in order to efficiently learn unknown subjects. It was not a category somebody was placed in, and it did not determine a person’s intelligence. With that mindset, I propose that this project be graded on a non-points-based rubric coupled with a professor-student relationship that encourages learning and growth through re-submissions.

In order to grow, students should be placed in an atmosphere that encourages messing up, getting back on track, and performing better afterwards. With a non-points-based rubric, design students will be able to explore their creativity without a fear of getting a bad grade. Students would then meet with the professor to discuss where their proficiency is within the project categories, and then resubmit their project after deep consideration of the categories in which they need to grow.

Two reasons for a non-points-based rubric for studio projects are as follows: 1) Design is subjective, and 2) the working world is not graded. Many of my peers and people I know who are working at firms all agree that project grades are too often negatively influenced by a professor’s opinion (even though we are encouraged to develop our own style). In regards to the working world, if you do not produce, then you are fired. If you put in effort and work hard, then you will continue to have a job (assuming economic stability).

The professor should note each student’s work and progress in each of the following categories, noting proficiency as “Improvement Needed,” “Meets Expectations,” and “Exceeds Expectations.”

Time Management

-         Scheduling in order to meet deadlines

o   Importance: an architect always has deadlines he/she needs to meet.

Craftsmanship

-          Attention to details

o   Importance: An architect is successful when he designs in the details.

-          Moving parts

o   Importance: Understanding how the joints work reflects an understanding of the reality of design.

-          Cleanness of the final model

o   Importance: Designs need to be portrayed beautifully to a client in order for it to sell.

Structural Stability

-          Solution for weak joints

o   Importance: On a much larger scale, weak joints could lead to drastic failures in a building, causing waste of time and money, and sometimes leading to injuries or deaths.

-          Understanding of basic structural concepts taught in class

o   Importance: Architects need to have a basic understanding of structure. Even though the structural engineers will do the detailed calculations, the architect should originally design with an approximation of required structures in order to reduce changes in the future.

Teamwork

-           Communication with teammates

o   Importance: Architects communicate with and are held responsible for all the people involved in the building project.

-          Fulfillment of assigned duties

o   Importance: If you do not do your work, you might be fired.

Finding My Voice

“Did you live under a rock?” I was often asked this question throughout my childhood when I didn’t know who all the ditsy teenage TV stars and pop singers were. People knew me as “quiet” or “shy” and asked me why I didn’t talk more. I would usually smile sweetly and mutter something like, “I don’t have much to say.” In reality, a sassy voice in my head would retort, “Well, if you would shut your mouth for more than a few seconds at a time, maybe others would have a chance to say something.” But my mom always quoted Thumper from Disney’s “Bambi” movie: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.” I’ve attempted to hold to this quote steadily throughout my life; I’ve decided it’s usually best that my voice is not heard unless what comes from it is positive and uplifting to others.

Since I am not especially excellent with words, my voice is usually the most uplifting when it is being used for song. Singing has been a lifelong love of mine (my parents confirmed that I sang since the day I could speak), but with such a small voice, nobody could hear me if they stood further than five feet away from me. I desperately wanted to know how to beautifully project my voice while singing, but was so shy about my singing voice that I thought it would become a reality. Then, when I was fourteen, I was asked to sing the Christmas Eve solo.

The solo was the first verse of the hymn “Once in Royal David’s City,” and we sang it every year. I knew the song well, so I made the mistake of putting off practice. With barely any preparation, I stood in front of the congregation on Christmas Eve, exposed and frightened. That first verse was a replica of my reoccurring nightmares. Three hundred expectant faces stared at me as the organist began to crawl through the introduction. I didn’t have the chance to practice with him beforehand, and his pace was painfully slow. I began the verse, and my whole body and voice shook like an earthquake. The tempo was so slow that I ran out of breath halfway through a simple phrase in the song. I panicked and proceeded to squeak the highest note of the verse and then run out of breath again. Since this song was so familiar to me, I felt like I was stumbling through the house I grew up in, but in pitch darkness. I knew it so well, but I was not prepared with a light as my tool to venture through. Subconsciously, I was hoping the ground would open up and swallow me then.

My first performance portrayed otherwise, but I knew that I was completely capable of singing well. And I knew I could train myself to prove that through future solos. My first solo was a catastrophe, but it was also the beginning of a deeper love for singing than I ever had before. That was the night when I found my voice.

A New Start

Each new semester instigates in me a deep anticipation. It is a combination of excitement and fear. I think back over the break and wonder where the time decided to fly. Perhaps it flew with Peter Pan to Neverland and never came back. Throughout the previous months, my peers have told me stories and advice about certain professors and classes - some that make me want to run - so I use discretion in figuring out which stories are valuable, and which are exaggerations. Wednesday was the first class of studio, and now I can have a fresh start. The anticipation is over.

Our first project began with us scanning pre-cut wood pieces and assembling them to make an assortment of animal models. Many of my classmates have a type of dinosaur, but I decided to build a praying mantis. It stands poised with one of its forelegs outstretched as if ready to punch anybody who comes too close. Its wings resemble the pattern of a monarch butterfly’s wings, yet it has a sternness that never shows in a monarch.

Before we punched out the wood pieces, we all scanned our templates in order to have the shapes of the wood pieces documented digitally. We will use a process that involves Photoshop and Illustrator to convert our scans into drawings in AutoCAD, so that later on, we can model our animals and make scaled up versions. These versions will require laser cutting at the Ranch, a place I have only been to once.

That introduces a minor problem that I have managed to avoid for an entire semester. Last year, I had to pass a quiz and be taken on a “tour” through the woodshop that is located in Building B. I used the woodshop a lot last year to make multiple models, but unfortunately, my certification expired after two semesters. Last semester started pretty suddenly, and I didn’t have the chance to make it down to the woodshop even once. Well, I might have avoided it intently because I knew it was a hassle. Anyways, that is on my list of things to do for this project: get re-certified to use the woodshop I already know how to use.

I am eagerly looking forward to this project, because it seems that we will be learning mostly about how to strengthen weak joints in our models. This project compared with previous studio projects is much like editing a paper that already exists. The main “design” is already there; we are just figuring out where the weak spots are.

My guess is that my praying mantis will have its weakest joints where the forearms extend out past its body. The body seems fairly stable right now, but time and a bigger scale will tell if my guess is correct. Please join me next week for an update of the activities we have been doing in studio. Or perhaps I might give you an example of life’s little conundrums in my world.