An interesting video about not only why we kiss, but an insight into evolutionary psychology through attachment, face recognition, 'the cupboard theory' and the controversial investigation presented by Harlow in the 1950s with monkeys.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixQbCXLUUj8
Monday, 22 July 2013
Friday, 12 July 2013
Privacy. noun
The state or condition of being free from being observed or disturbed by other people.
When are we not observed by people? Security cameras on every corner, recorded phone calls and generally nosy people. Yet we want to make ourselves available. Phones permantently stuffed in our jean pockets, loudest volume.
Facebook, twitter, whatsapp, instagram, snapchat. Apps to light every dark corner of your social life. No dim lines, only flashing cameras. Friends let into your life who aren't even friends. Made eye contact and perhaps an awkward smile with that person you share that gym class with? Friend request pending.
People now know everything about you. How nice that slice of cake you had five minutes ago through instagram, how disastrous your friday night was via those desperately quickly untagged photos on Facebook and the latest career venture from LinkedIn. How do people feel so comfortable with how their personal lives are so accessible?
Personally, I use Facebook solely for social events, academic and social groups, photo albums and inevitably, being connected to a lot of people who's phone numbers I do not have. For some that's unfortunate, for many..thank goodness. I am known for never answering phone calls..if I do- you're lucky. Or I'm on my phone. Now everyone knows where you are, whether you looked at their message, where you are currently located- it's mad. This is on the assumption I haven't been kidnapped or ran away from home.
But for many social networking sites, privacy is however very important. Exclusivity of friend requests, locked tweets, connections. So why for the beautifully designed iPhone is there none? Perhaps because it's not beautifully designed people would say..I can think of a few.
The fact that you can't some things on Facebook annoys me. Getting a snap chat from Pete or a Facebook message from my brother. Maybe a text from a friend or a someone has favourite my astoundingly witty tweet. Why do I want people seeing this if my phone is on the counter charging? You can read nearly half the message (yes, it depends how long it is) but why does it show up on your phone when you haven't even touched it? And evidently if you haven't touched it, you don't need to know who has messaged you right now.
I just think this is a design fault from Apple, or maybe this is displaying my ignorance of my settings. It could may well be the second, but still, why doesn't it just tell me I have 1 text message- not who and what they have exactly said. Maybe I don't want to know right now. If I would, I'll sure swipe my swiper thing and will found out in 2 seconds.
The state or condition of being free from being observed or disturbed by other people.
When are we not observed by people? Security cameras on every corner, recorded phone calls and generally nosy people. Yet we want to make ourselves available. Phones permantently stuffed in our jean pockets, loudest volume.
Facebook, twitter, whatsapp, instagram, snapchat. Apps to light every dark corner of your social life. No dim lines, only flashing cameras. Friends let into your life who aren't even friends. Made eye contact and perhaps an awkward smile with that person you share that gym class with? Friend request pending.
People now know everything about you. How nice that slice of cake you had five minutes ago through instagram, how disastrous your friday night was via those desperately quickly untagged photos on Facebook and the latest career venture from LinkedIn. How do people feel so comfortable with how their personal lives are so accessible?
Personally, I use Facebook solely for social events, academic and social groups, photo albums and inevitably, being connected to a lot of people who's phone numbers I do not have. For some that's unfortunate, for many..thank goodness. I am known for never answering phone calls..if I do- you're lucky. Or I'm on my phone. Now everyone knows where you are, whether you looked at their message, where you are currently located- it's mad. This is on the assumption I haven't been kidnapped or ran away from home.
But for many social networking sites, privacy is however very important. Exclusivity of friend requests, locked tweets, connections. So why for the beautifully designed iPhone is there none? Perhaps because it's not beautifully designed people would say..I can think of a few.
The fact that you can't some things on Facebook annoys me. Getting a snap chat from Pete or a Facebook message from my brother. Maybe a text from a friend or a someone has favourite my astoundingly witty tweet. Why do I want people seeing this if my phone is on the counter charging? You can read nearly half the message (yes, it depends how long it is) but why does it show up on your phone when you haven't even touched it? And evidently if you haven't touched it, you don't need to know who has messaged you right now.
I just think this is a design fault from Apple, or maybe this is displaying my ignorance of my settings. It could may well be the second, but still, why doesn't it just tell me I have 1 text message- not who and what they have exactly said. Maybe I don't want to know right now. If I would, I'll sure swipe my swiper thing and will found out in 2 seconds.
Sunday, 27 February 2011
The Sunday Times
Like every Sunday, my mother comes in clenched with a copy of The Sunday Times, slamming the door behind her and complaining about the rubbish British Weather.
I shake my head, and bury my furrows into my essay due in for tomorrow. To what extent will the interest rate policy solve an inflation problem? Hmm. Well it obviously isn't working now; My sister and I stayed in London for a couple days as she had an interview with HSBC, in Canary Wharf. Lucky bugger. As I waved her goodbye, imagine my embarrasment asking 'table for one, please.' It even entertained the waiter. I'm freaking 17, hardly near a midlife crisis. Anyway, after having my one sad lonely gingerbeer and prentending to be busy writing useless notes, the bill was a ridicuolous £4.25. That's inflation for you - stupid MPC.
Each member of the family is drawn to their own special supplement-mine being Style. But this time, something else caught my eye. I usually flip through the Sunday Times Magazine, perhaps reading a few by-lines and stand-firsts. But this time, an article caught my eye. Maily because it was on the front cover, but the image- front cover, image, same thing-was a traditional 60s image of a nicely brushed up dark man, just about to slice some chunky airbrushed ham. And no, the ham didn't really look that nice. However, the caption of the supposed advertisement, was 'The best ham you've ever taste... or your money back!' Er, woah. Slow down. The best ham ever? That's some statement. Matt Rudd outs the promises of advertising to the test. My eyes skim over the words of promises, advertising and test. Interesting.
The article was a 4 page spread written by this absolute genius of the name Matthew Rudd. The article was filled with letters and replies complaining about products not satisfying enough for Mr Rudd here.
'I just wanted to congratulate you on your extremely ingenious sidestep that leaves me unrefunded'
'They taste like sweet cardboard and I shall be sticking to my usual breakfast of french toast with maple syrup and bacon henceforth'
'They taste nothing like any cheese I have ever eaten...and I've lived in France for 6 months'
Currently trying to stalk him, so will report back to base soon as.
I shake my head, and bury my furrows into my essay due in for tomorrow. To what extent will the interest rate policy solve an inflation problem? Hmm. Well it obviously isn't working now; My sister and I stayed in London for a couple days as she had an interview with HSBC, in Canary Wharf. Lucky bugger. As I waved her goodbye, imagine my embarrasment asking 'table for one, please.' It even entertained the waiter. I'm freaking 17, hardly near a midlife crisis. Anyway, after having my one sad lonely gingerbeer and prentending to be busy writing useless notes, the bill was a ridicuolous £4.25. That's inflation for you - stupid MPC.
Each member of the family is drawn to their own special supplement-mine being Style. But this time, something else caught my eye. I usually flip through the Sunday Times Magazine, perhaps reading a few by-lines and stand-firsts. But this time, an article caught my eye. Maily because it was on the front cover, but the image- front cover, image, same thing-was a traditional 60s image of a nicely brushed up dark man, just about to slice some chunky airbrushed ham. And no, the ham didn't really look that nice. However, the caption of the supposed advertisement, was 'The best ham you've ever taste... or your money back!' Er, woah. Slow down. The best ham ever? That's some statement. Matt Rudd outs the promises of advertising to the test. My eyes skim over the words of promises, advertising and test. Interesting.
The article was a 4 page spread written by this absolute genius of the name Matthew Rudd. The article was filled with letters and replies complaining about products not satisfying enough for Mr Rudd here.
'I just wanted to congratulate you on your extremely ingenious sidestep that leaves me unrefunded'
'They taste like sweet cardboard and I shall be sticking to my usual breakfast of french toast with maple syrup and bacon henceforth'
'They taste nothing like any cheese I have ever eaten...and I've lived in France for 6 months'
Currently trying to stalk him, so will report back to base soon as.
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