The Fantastic Four, also known as Family, walked slowly through the shopping mall, towards the bus stop. Wife carried the backpack with all the food we had just bought, I had a loaf of bread in my hand – a miscalculation, yes –, Son was 50 meters ahead of Wife and me, Daughter was examining something 50 meters behind us.
Remember a while ago when I wrote that “remember a while ago when I wrote that “[t]here is no place – and this is no exaggaration, simply a fact, so I repeat it: no place – a Swede can’t set up a bench, or hasn’t already done so”?”
Well, the other day I went for a walk with the family and I thought about how in the fall I wrote that “I went for a walk and thought about how I said that, and how right I was. I think I may have even said it out loud, ‘that thing you wrote about the benches last summer, on July 14, that was so right on, it was so true.'”
The thing that made me remind myself of that piece that made me remind myself of the other piece was a bench that I saw on my way to the mall.
This one:
I still don’t get this.
A magazine cover from 1933. I guess we’re still struggling with the same issues.
Man walks into a book store. Man sees a lot of books. Man likes books, so man really likes this particular Vancouver book store because they have a lot of books. Man realizes it’s a second-hand book store and is a little disappointed until he sees a pile of sports books next to a sign that says, “IOC Propaganda”. Man laughs and looks at the propaganda books, and realizes that the old books are cool.
Man goes deeper into the store, finds all kinds of categories he’s never gone through before. Man stops at “Cheyenne-Comanche” section. Man picks up a book, man puts it down. Man goes to “WWI”. Man goes to “Movies-Movie history”. Man finds old magazines. Man goes to fiction, stops at “Mark Twain”. Man goes to “Art”. Man goes “WWII”. Man goes nuts.
Suddenly…
Man stops. Man looks up. Man examines books in front him. Man seems to be sweating a little. Man picks up cell phone from pocket. Man looks like he’s texting somebody.
Man’s not really texting, he’s just a victim of the Bookstore Syndrome.
So, there I was, walking down Main St in Vancouver BC, when I saw this tiny store from the corner of my eye. The bearded man, in his 50s, walked out the store, and flipped the sign on the door from “open” to something else.
It said, “Gone for a bowl of soup. Back later.”
I thought it was nice. A bowl of soup. Who could blame him, really. Take your time, mister.
People who are regularly bombarded with several streams of electronic information do not pay attention, control their memory or switch from one job to another as well as those who prefer to complete one task at a time, a group of Stanford researchers has found.
I suppose that would be you, dear reader, at the receiving end of my emails, blog entries, tweets, and text messages. Please don’t try to read them all at the same time, and at least please don’t try to listen to my puckcasts while reading this.
All kidding aside – but still, don’t do it – I found that study fascinating. Today, I finally listened to (while driving a car) the On Point podcast with the professor behind the study trying to convince a couple of twenty-somethings that those who try to multitask actually are worse at focusing than those that don’t multitask. The high multitaskers also had worse memory and were slower to switch from one task to another than those who didn’t multitask as much.
“They couldn’t help thinking about the task they weren’t doing,” Ophir said. “The high multitaskers are always drawing from all the information in front of them. They can’t keep things separate in their minds.”
The brain is not made for multitasking, the captain said. And well, I think I’ve known that all along, even though I can chew gum and walk, even run, at the same time. But I cannot listen to CNN and read the ticker at the same time.
Can you?
Just a reminder: my hockey stuff is now at Puckarinen (www.ristopakarinen.com/hockey/)
Three years ago, I claimed a word. I coined a phrase. A few weeks ago, I saw a Finnish version of the word in a paper. Was I the first one, really, or did somebody else’s brain produce a similar gem?
I’m sure it was the latter.
