Monday, May 18, 2009
INTRODUCTION
My reasearch project is at the core about urban legends. Urban legends are basically myths, or anything passed down by word of mouth whose origin is unclear, and validity is uncertain. These type of tales range from ghosts, to monsters, to ouija boards, to just everyday precautions that should be taken "just in case". Every person on earth has both heard and told an urban legend; maybe without realizing it. Any form of gossip you pass around, or the reason for a mysterious death. Truth be told, we as human beings love them. But why? That is the question that I intended to answer when starting this project. However, the answer may not surprise most of you: Life can be utterly BORING! We all need something interesting to talk about. We literally feed off of stories like leeches. All of us like to think that there is something else out there besides ourselves, and thats the type of thing that urban legends lead us to question. Mystery is prime in piquing interest in all of us, keeping life a little more interesting than it originally would have been.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Psychology of Urban Legends
Because my question to be answered is: “Why do people love urban legends so much?”, and that question directly relates to the way our minds work, I thought it would be a good idea to bring some psychology research into the equation. I found two studies, both reported by psychologists that assessed the spread of urban legends. The first study explored the retelling of urban legends, and was reported in “Retelling Urban Legends (Influential Factors)” by Jean Tree and Mary Susan Weldon. The second examined already expected factors of retelling urban legends reported in “Influence of Emotional Content and Perceived Relevance on Spread of Urban Legends” by Ellen Cotter.
The first of the studies found that people retold truthful, scary, well known stories. The original presumption was that people would be less likely to tell stories that people already knew, however, credibility rose with the number of times it was heard. Importance, scariness, and the likelihood of retelling also increased the number of times the story was repeated. Details are relatively unimportant in the retelling of urban legends, because they are often changed or embellished. The second study was done with 62 participants in which they read 15 urban legends. The study showed that “ both a high fear rating and a high believability rating were positively correlated with the reported intent to tell”. As before shown in the first study, this one also showed that familiarity increased the intent to tell. This helps my research because it gives me a look into what people are looking for in a good urban legend and what type they would be more likely to repeat or be interested in hearing.
Cotter, Ellen M. “Influence of emotional content and perceived relevance on spread of urban legends: a pilot study. (Author abstract)(Report).”Psychological Reports 102.2 (April 2008): 623 (7). General OneFile. Gale. Alabama Virtual Library Remote Access. 9 Apr. 2009 http://find.galegroup.com/ips/start.do?prodld=IPS.>
Tree, Jean E. Fox, and Mary Susan Weldon. “Retelling urban legends.(influential factors).”American Journal of Psychology 120.3 (Fall 2007):459(18). General OneFile. Gale. Alabama Virtual Library Remote Access. 9 Apr. 2009.
The first of the studies found that people retold truthful, scary, well known stories. The original presumption was that people would be less likely to tell stories that people already knew, however, credibility rose with the number of times it was heard. Importance, scariness, and the likelihood of retelling also increased the number of times the story was repeated. Details are relatively unimportant in the retelling of urban legends, because they are often changed or embellished. The second study was done with 62 participants in which they read 15 urban legends. The study showed that “ both a high fear rating and a high believability rating were positively correlated with the reported intent to tell”. As before shown in the first study, this one also showed that familiarity increased the intent to tell. This helps my research because it gives me a look into what people are looking for in a good urban legend and what type they would be more likely to repeat or be interested in hearing.
Cotter, Ellen M. “Influence of emotional content and perceived relevance on spread of urban legends: a pilot study. (Author abstract)(Report).”Psychological Reports 102.2 (April 2008): 623 (7). General OneFile. Gale. Alabama Virtual Library Remote Access. 9 Apr. 2009 http://find.galegroup.com/ips/start.do?prodld=IPS.>
Tree, Jean E. Fox, and Mary Susan Weldon. “Retelling urban legends.(influential factors).”American Journal of Psychology 120.3 (Fall 2007):459(18). General OneFile. Gale. Alabama Virtual Library Remote Access. 9 Apr. 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Lies We Love to Tell
The article “Urban Legends: Lies We Love to Tell” by Martha Brockenbrough begins with a story of one of the author’s friends who spent so much time on the computer that her fingers turned black and fell off. The doctor discovered that the cable access emits deadly waves that can turn your fingers gangrenous if you are exposed long enough. Three other internet users have experienced this around the world. A college in England had already known this fact since 1982, but politicians ordered a major cover up. Of course, none of this story was true. The author made the whole thing up.
According to Brunvand, an urban legends expert whom Brockenbrough received her information, “we are eager to believe these stories because:
They seem like they may be true. Either someone we trust is telling it, or it happened to a FOAF (friend of a friend).
They’re good stories--scary or memorable or funny.
They carry a message, one that confirms a world view.”
All of the above apply to why we pass on urban legends as well, along with the addition of the “just in case” clause. People want to tell the story just in case it is true, so they can spare a friend of the unfortunate consequences of the story.
Brockenbrough, Martha. “Urban Legends: Lies We Love to Tell.” MSN Encarta Columns Web.30 Apr 2009.
According to Brunvand, an urban legends expert whom Brockenbrough received her information, “we are eager to believe these stories because:
They seem like they may be true. Either someone we trust is telling it, or it happened to a FOAF (friend of a friend).
They’re good stories--scary or memorable or funny.
They carry a message, one that confirms a world view.”
All of the above apply to why we pass on urban legends as well, along with the addition of the “just in case” clause. People want to tell the story just in case it is true, so they can spare a friend of the unfortunate consequences of the story.
Brockenbrough, Martha. “Urban Legends: Lies We Love to Tell.” MSN Encarta Columns Web.30 Apr 2009
Survey
Originally for my interview, I was planning on talking to some experts on folklore, but considering that my “big question” is why people (everyday, run of the mill people) love urban legends, I thought I would ask normal people: students. I talked to six students here at the high school: Hannah Golden, Aimee L’Eplattenier, Lauren Cordor, Trent Knighton, and Keith Hallinquest. I thought that asking everyday students would help me more accurately discover what people think is the big hype about urban legends.
The overall consensus that the other students gave me was that people are bored. They are always looking for something new and exciting to talk about, like stories; most of all, ones that people don’t already know. They also said that as high schoolers, we love the drama, and what’s more dramatic than a good urban legend that really hits one of your nerves? Aimee L’Eplattenier compared it to gossip: “When I was in middle school, people really loved to spread rumors about me. Not only did people love to spread them, they loved to hear them too. It was passed around just like this swine flu (ha ha). I think that people are just too bored with their lives so they have to have something to talk about other than themselves (although that is everyone’s favorite topic). We all want to know things that others don’t, so we may spread things around just for whatever type of praise or reaction we get from it.” I think Aimee did a really good job at explaining why gossip and urban legends are so appealing. People need something to talk about, they’re bored, so they need something bizarre to keep them occupied. I think it’s just human nature to want to hear about weird and bizarre things, and that is exactly what urban legends allow us.
L’Eplattenier, Aimee. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Golden, Hannah. Personal Interview. 22 Apr. 2009
Cordor, Lauren. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Chramer, Elisabeth. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Knighton, Trent. Personal Interview. 22 Apr. 2009
Hallinquest, Keith. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
The overall consensus that the other students gave me was that people are bored. They are always looking for something new and exciting to talk about, like stories; most of all, ones that people don’t already know. They also said that as high schoolers, we love the drama, and what’s more dramatic than a good urban legend that really hits one of your nerves? Aimee L’Eplattenier compared it to gossip: “When I was in middle school, people really loved to spread rumors about me. Not only did people love to spread them, they loved to hear them too. It was passed around just like this swine flu (ha ha). I think that people are just too bored with their lives so they have to have something to talk about other than themselves (although that is everyone’s favorite topic). We all want to know things that others don’t, so we may spread things around just for whatever type of praise or reaction we get from it.” I think Aimee did a really good job at explaining why gossip and urban legends are so appealing. People need something to talk about, they’re bored, so they need something bizarre to keep them occupied. I think it’s just human nature to want to hear about weird and bizarre things, and that is exactly what urban legends allow us.
L’Eplattenier, Aimee. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Golden, Hannah. Personal Interview. 22 Apr. 2009
Cordor, Lauren. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Chramer, Elisabeth. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Knighton, Trent. Personal Interview. 22 Apr. 2009
Hallinquest, Keith. Personal Interview. 28 Apr. 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Amber Waves of Grain
The summer of 1999 did not prove to be exactly what Carmen Shrine was hoping for the months before the turn of the century and her senior year. She had just ended her last day at her barely inhabited high school in Goodsprings, Nevada with hopeful dreams for the coming days. There was no reason for this; she expected this vacation to be just like the others had been in her town of only 236 people. Her days were bored, spent wishing that school would come back around or that she was old enough to take her friends on the only hour long ride to Las Vegas, the most amazing city on earth. She had no idea why, but something felt electrifying about this vacation, almost eerily so. There was an air about the town that caught her attention and grabbed hold like a tick; like the tick inside of her necklace. It was her newfound prized possession, a gift from her father, one of many he bought her every May her entire life for completing another year of school. It was cheesy and unnecessary, but it was tradition. This year’s gift was an amber necklace containing an ancient tick of some sort. It was absolutely fascinating to Carmen, and she was convinced that she would never take it off. This necklace was her connection to the upcoming summer’s excitement. Whatever was going to happen was directly linked to this ancient tick within the fossilized tree resin hanging on her neck.
A week of summer passed, and the days were passing routinely: sunbathing, swimming, dinners out, and …..a whole lot of nothing. One day, Carmen decided to venture from the beaten path to a nearby carnival. When she arrived, she realized that the rides weren’t much fun wheh there was no one to enjoy them with. She started to make her way out, when she spotted a tent isolated from the other attractions. and was She gravitated toward it. At the entrance was a sign "Madame Nila - Reservation Psychic". Carmen entered to something she thought odd- there were no strange relics, candles, or crystal balls; the lady she saw ahead was neither European, nor frightening like she had expected. It was simply a tent, with a small, solemn, Native American woman sitting in the center.
"Welcome," she said calmly.
The tone reminded Carmen of one that a yoga instructor might use.
"Sit with me."
Feeling oddly at ease with this stranger, Carmen took a seat on the ground in front of the woman. This woman, so called "Madame Nila," sensed the aura of ease and explained to Carmen her name and how she planned to step away from the stereotype that it was.
"Of course, my name is not Madame Nila, that is only for attraction. My name is Nakoma from the American Powhattan tribe. I am neither a psychic nor a fortune teller."
Carmen’s eyes must have shown her confusion and wonderment of her; she felt as if this woman were going to break into "Colors of the Wind" at any moment.
"I will tell you what is, not what will be."
Carmen was puzzled. "How will that tell me any different than I already know?"
Just then, the woman’s eyes turned black and her gaze shifted to the amber hanging from Carmen’s neck. Carmen felt a shiver run down her spine, getting the feeling that maybe this isn’t a place she needed to be in.
"Is it real?" Nakoma asked quizzically.
"What?"
"The amber, is it real? Do you know where it came from?" she pressed.
"Um, I don’t know," Carmen stammered, "My father bought it for me. Isn’t it neat?" she said, admiring her gift.
"You are of Spanish decent, correct? Not direct blood line, but your heritage, yes?"she said, ignoring Carmen’s question.
"My mother’s family comes from Spain." Carmen said reluctantly.
"You must leave the necklace with me." Nakoma breathed hurriedly.
"What? No!"
"You must," trailing off searching for some way to explain herself. "Go to a bookstore, and read about my tribe’s first known chief - you will know what to look for. Go! But come back quickly."
Carmen left bewildered, but unscathed by the "psychic’s" creepy reaction to her necklace.
Instead of returning home that night, Carmen stayed with a friend whose father owned every book you could possibly imagine on Native American history and culture. She decided to just look, if not only out of curiosity.
"She said to look for the Powhattans,." Carmen said to Lily. "Help me."
Within a few minutes, they found the chief in a book called Journals of the Santa Maria. It was a collection of Christopher Columbus’s diary entries while on his voyages to find the New World.
The only mention of amber in these diaries seemed inconsequential and everything seemed well. After more thorough research, she came to find that in fact, all was not well amongst the Indians and Spaniards. The journal went on to when Columbus returns to Spain to a series of terrible misfortunes having given the Indians a fake form of amber, much less valuable than the amber that they had given in return. She didn’t know what this meant for her, but the realization that she was a Spaniard and held the ancient Powhattan amber was no less eerie than the psychic’s strange inquiries the day before. Despite the feeling in her gut, this seemed to Carmen to be the same shrug-off story as ghosts in New Orleans. No matter how many times she visited the French Quarter, she’d never experienced one of it’s infamous hauntings. To Carmen, this was a great legend, a pleasurable joke to cure her boredom. The more she read, the more infatuated she became with Columbus’s failures spawn from his obsession with the real amber. Soon, however, Columbus’s destruction began to frighten Carmen, and she decided to ignore that she had ever learned about it. The following days went by normally, until the Fourth of July.
Independence Day was a big production for the small town; something that everyone enjoyed. There were cook-outs, parades, and fireworks, swimming parties, and cold drinks. It was the biggest day of the year in Goodsprings as it always had been, but even that could grow dull when you had done it sixteen times before. Fireworks popped, red and blue flags waved in the light wind, people sang along to the tune of "America, the Beautiful" and Carmen wished that something would happen, anything. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The flags began to whip, crowds quieted, and the music blared.
"Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of, amber waves of, amber waves of, amber waves of….."
It played on, like a broken record player. "Grain, say grain, already." she thought. Waves of grain. Waves of grain in swirling wind came raining upon this once grand parade, pummeling the town. People ran to their homes screaming. It looked like a sandstorm in the form of tornados.
Then it stopped.
As the air quieted, the music played on, and Carmen knew well enough that it was not over. She bowed her head to her necklace and wondered if it had, in fact, come from the Native American land. Again, the town was quiet where it should have been frantic and panicked.
"For purple mountain majesty, above the fruited plains. America, America, God shed his Grace on thee. And crowned thy good, with brother hood….."
Silence.
All but a wild river rushing and crashing through streets from each side toward the middle square where Carmen stood. Ahead was a small hill on which Nakoma stood, again solemn, her eyes blaming- "I warned you."
It was the last sight Carmen Shrine saw before swallowing and being swallowed by the bitter salt water. Blind and choked, she surrendered to the savage waters with no struggle, her limp body drifting with the waves. On the hill, her amber necklace washed up to Nakoma as she smiled and walked away.
"From sea - to - shining- sea…"
A week of summer passed, and the days were passing routinely: sunbathing, swimming, dinners out, and …..a whole lot of nothing. One day, Carmen decided to venture from the beaten path to a nearby carnival. When she arrived, she realized that the rides weren’t much fun wheh there was no one to enjoy them with. She started to make her way out, when she spotted a tent isolated from the other attractions. and was She gravitated toward it. At the entrance was a sign "Madame Nila - Reservation Psychic". Carmen entered to something she thought odd- there were no strange relics, candles, or crystal balls; the lady she saw ahead was neither European, nor frightening like she had expected. It was simply a tent, with a small, solemn, Native American woman sitting in the center.
"Welcome," she said calmly.
The tone reminded Carmen of one that a yoga instructor might use.
"Sit with me."
Feeling oddly at ease with this stranger, Carmen took a seat on the ground in front of the woman. This woman, so called "Madame Nila," sensed the aura of ease and explained to Carmen her name and how she planned to step away from the stereotype that it was.
"Of course, my name is not Madame Nila, that is only for attraction. My name is Nakoma from the American Powhattan tribe. I am neither a psychic nor a fortune teller."
Carmen’s eyes must have shown her confusion and wonderment of her; she felt as if this woman were going to break into "Colors of the Wind" at any moment.
"I will tell you what is, not what will be."
Carmen was puzzled. "How will that tell me any different than I already know?"
Just then, the woman’s eyes turned black and her gaze shifted to the amber hanging from Carmen’s neck. Carmen felt a shiver run down her spine, getting the feeling that maybe this isn’t a place she needed to be in.
"Is it real?" Nakoma asked quizzically.
"What?"
"The amber, is it real? Do you know where it came from?" she pressed.
"Um, I don’t know," Carmen stammered, "My father bought it for me. Isn’t it neat?" she said, admiring her gift.
"You are of Spanish decent, correct? Not direct blood line, but your heritage, yes?"she said, ignoring Carmen’s question.
"My mother’s family comes from Spain." Carmen said reluctantly.
"You must leave the necklace with me." Nakoma breathed hurriedly.
"What? No!"
"You must," trailing off searching for some way to explain herself. "Go to a bookstore, and read about my tribe’s first known chief - you will know what to look for. Go! But come back quickly."
Carmen left bewildered, but unscathed by the "psychic’s" creepy reaction to her necklace.
Instead of returning home that night, Carmen stayed with a friend whose father owned every book you could possibly imagine on Native American history and culture. She decided to just look, if not only out of curiosity.
"She said to look for the Powhattans,." Carmen said to Lily. "Help me."
Within a few minutes, they found the chief in a book called Journals of the Santa Maria. It was a collection of Christopher Columbus’s diary entries while on his voyages to find the New World.
The only mention of amber in these diaries seemed inconsequential and everything seemed well. After more thorough research, she came to find that in fact, all was not well amongst the Indians and Spaniards. The journal went on to when Columbus returns to Spain to a series of terrible misfortunes having given the Indians a fake form of amber, much less valuable than the amber that they had given in return. She didn’t know what this meant for her, but the realization that she was a Spaniard and held the ancient Powhattan amber was no less eerie than the psychic’s strange inquiries the day before. Despite the feeling in her gut, this seemed to Carmen to be the same shrug-off story as ghosts in New Orleans. No matter how many times she visited the French Quarter, she’d never experienced one of it’s infamous hauntings. To Carmen, this was a great legend, a pleasurable joke to cure her boredom. The more she read, the more infatuated she became with Columbus’s failures spawn from his obsession with the real amber. Soon, however, Columbus’s destruction began to frighten Carmen, and she decided to ignore that she had ever learned about it. The following days went by normally, until the Fourth of July.
Independence Day was a big production for the small town; something that everyone enjoyed. There were cook-outs, parades, and fireworks, swimming parties, and cold drinks. It was the biggest day of the year in Goodsprings as it always had been, but even that could grow dull when you had done it sixteen times before. Fireworks popped, red and blue flags waved in the light wind, people sang along to the tune of "America, the Beautiful" and Carmen wished that something would happen, anything. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The flags began to whip, crowds quieted, and the music blared.
"Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of, amber waves of, amber waves of, amber waves of….."
It played on, like a broken record player. "Grain, say grain, already." she thought. Waves of grain. Waves of grain in swirling wind came raining upon this once grand parade, pummeling the town. People ran to their homes screaming. It looked like a sandstorm in the form of tornados.
Then it stopped.
As the air quieted, the music played on, and Carmen knew well enough that it was not over. She bowed her head to her necklace and wondered if it had, in fact, come from the Native American land. Again, the town was quiet where it should have been frantic and panicked.
"For purple mountain majesty, above the fruited plains. America, America, God shed his Grace on thee. And crowned thy good, with brother hood….."
Silence.
All but a wild river rushing and crashing through streets from each side toward the middle square where Carmen stood. Ahead was a small hill on which Nakoma stood, again solemn, her eyes blaming- "I warned you."
It was the last sight Carmen Shrine saw before swallowing and being swallowed by the bitter salt water. Blind and choked, she surrendered to the savage waters with no struggle, her limp body drifting with the waves. On the hill, her amber necklace washed up to Nakoma as she smiled and walked away.
"From sea - to - shining- sea…"
You Wanna Play?
So, originally for my live interaction, I was going to do a ghost tour (the Red Lady and Huntingdon) but got cancelled on the count of the swine flu. However, I think that this live interaction turned out much better than the other would have. I gathered up some of my less superstitious and more adventurous friends to play (or whatever it is you do with it) a Quija Board. My mom has had the thing since she was my age. She dug it out of her attic for me. She said that she and her friends messed with it a little when she was younger, but she was too chicken to stick around. She never did ask if anything happened……
The Quija Board we used was very standard, with a yes at the top left hand corner, a no at the right; two arcs one on top of the other of the alphabet, a line of the numbers one through nine under that, and at the very bottom, good bye as two words. The beginning of the game was actually the worst part because of the build up of anticipation. My mom is very superstitious person, so it couldn’t help but rub off on me. We started by asking the board what our names were (by we, I mean them, I was actually more of a bystander). The first person’s was right, but I think that she may have been trying to pull our legs. Honestly, the room had kind of an eerie feeling to it, faux or not, but I may have just been nerves. Of course, as I expected, (or rather hoped for) nothing bizarre or out of the ordinary ever happened. In most cases, the little pointer didn’t even move, but some people swore that the could feel it pulling, probably in another attempt to freak the rest of us out. The story isn’t the six of us playing the game though, it was the willingness that my friends have to do something that may or may not have had some supernatural risk. Not one of them hesitated when I asked. Then again, I may have just asked the right people. This helped me answer my question simply because it showed me what type of people are roned to believing or seeking out urban legends. They are thrill seekers, but they want to believe that thrill can be achieved by less extreme measures than something that has immediate danger or severe risk. They believe because they want to; it's exciting.
Ouija Board. Live Interaction. 2 May 2009
The Quija Board we used was very standard, with a yes at the top left hand corner, a no at the right; two arcs one on top of the other of the alphabet, a line of the numbers one through nine under that, and at the very bottom, good bye as two words. The beginning of the game was actually the worst part because of the build up of anticipation. My mom is very superstitious person, so it couldn’t help but rub off on me. We started by asking the board what our names were (by we, I mean them, I was actually more of a bystander). The first person’s was right, but I think that she may have been trying to pull our legs. Honestly, the room had kind of an eerie feeling to it, faux or not, but I may have just been nerves. Of course, as I expected, (or rather hoped for) nothing bizarre or out of the ordinary ever happened. In most cases, the little pointer didn’t even move, but some people swore that the could feel it pulling, probably in another attempt to freak the rest of us out. The story isn’t the six of us playing the game though, it was the willingness that my friends have to do something that may or may not have had some supernatural risk. Not one of them hesitated when I asked. Then again, I may have just asked the right people. This helped me answer my question simply because it showed me what type of people are roned to believing or seeking out urban legends. They are thrill seekers, but they want to believe that thrill can be achieved by less extreme measures than something that has immediate danger or severe risk. They believe because they want to; it's exciting.
Ouija Board. Live Interaction. 2 May 2009
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