...and a Rebuttal

I am, as one might call it, an evolutionary dead end. This means that anyone who, for whatever strange reason, decides to use me as an inspiration to live their life, is asking for trouble.

Boohoohoo! What a whiney little bitch.

Don't emulate my life. I made enough poor choices among those pitiful few that I have done well.

Woe be me! How much self-pity can you even get?

The first poor choice was to revere my teachers back in the day. There is nothing to revere about them---they are just [young] adults trying to make a living doing a job that involves them doing the same song and dance routine that recurs every year, while dealing with whatever politicking that occurs in the background, their responsibilities increasing, their salary dropping, and with each batch of students getting increasingly disrespectful.

That was not a poor choice---as a young child, you really did not have much in terms of adult role models. It is not as though that you were brought up in a village where there are more adults to look at, with potentially more to look up to. Teachers are the authority figures in your life then, so it is natural to keep them in high regard. Technically, that does imply ``revere'', but you were a kid then---how/why would you know otherwise?

The second poor choice was to spend so much time reading to amass book knowledge, instead of going out there and learning street smarts. All the book knowledge that I have learnt over time is steadily being eroded by the ever-increasing reach of this current generation of machine learning/artificial intelligence, where the indefatigable Machine is allowed free reign to slurp up all the digitsed human knowledge and then create a new walled garden where they rule supreme in the art of Knowing. As I get older, the skills that are increasingly less redundant over time are those that involve the coordination and coaxing of people to do things, i.e. street smarts or social/emotional intelligence, stuff that the so-called books of learning are sorely lacking.

Don't be an ass. All the street smarts in the world without a solid foundation of knowledge to back things up is just going to lead you through a more convoluted path than what you have gone through before. Street smarts without maturity is a fast way to stray off the straight and narrow, and the skills that you have learnt from sitting down quietly and reading are still relevant in the face of the Machine. In fact, the ability to synthesise these book knowledge with street smarts is what will make you successful, so don't piss on that through the magic of 20/20 hindsight.

The third poor choice was to go study overseas on a scholarship, instead of staying in SIN city and studying at one of the local universities. The overseas experience might be useful from the social/emotional intelligence point of view from the broadening of horizons with respect to the continual refinement of one's understanding of the human condition, but the stuff that is learnt there, and the friends that were made there are effectively useless when I'm not there.

You are thinking too small. Are you saying that meeting people like Brian, Mo, Alisa, loliponi, Liesel, Oat, and the like are useless? Why must you view relationships with the earthly notion of ``utility''? Why can't you just enjoy the fact that you have spent time with people far diverse and different from your own cultural centre, thus expanding each other's horizons of what the humman condition is? If you think that all the stuff you learnt there is useless, then you truly have not learnt anything. After all, to learn is to take a thesis, and its antithesis, and synthesise a new understanding. To claim uselessness is a demonstration of the lack of the synthesis step, a true measure of a thinking person.

Which brings me to the fourth poor choice---to return to SIN city and decide to stay here, for the sake of patriotism, and a sense of duty to repay the tax payers for supporting my education abroad via scholarships. Having not been in the local environment during the most important early years of one's professional life meant that I started off in greater isolation than one who has been studying at the local universities, and mingling with the very same people who are likely to be one's compatriots in the working world, thus developing that covetted ``network'' that allows one to thrive better.

Now you're being an asshole. Why conflate who you are with what you do for a living? You are not what you do for a living---your true nature is known to you and your Father in heaven. Isolation itself is meaningless out of context---if the mainstream is highly daemonically influenced, then perhaps isolation is a good thing. A ``network'' is whatever web of relationships you make of it, and the reality is that there are more people who are willing to give a chance and relate to another person than one might think there are, with the only barrier being the mere thought that everyone is contented enough to be alone to want to be reached out to. Unless that person is a sociopath, it is simply not the case that you can't create that network to thrive. Get out of your damned comfort zone, shake off that anxiety, and go with the flow for once.

Prestige is bullshit. Don't go Harvard because it is Harvard---go to Harvard only if the programme you are interested can only be found in Harvard. So, don't study overseas for the sake of ``prestige''---go overseas to study only if what you are interested it can only be found overseas, and not here.

A non sequitor. The first half is not wrong, but the second half is contradictory with all that you have said so far. What is it you are admitting, that you messed up by going overseas due to the ``prestige'', or that pursuing what you are interested in that is better foundt here than here that is messing you up? If you cannot figure out what you want to say, you might as well just shut it.

I can go on, but I think the pattern is clear---there are many that will try to sell a vision to you. Know that the vision is just that: a vision only. Reality is often much different from what the vision holds, and more importantly, even for those who claim the title of ``master planner'' are unlikely to know that much more of the consequences of the vision that they are zealously selling. There are no gods among men---only One True God Above; anyone who claims to be a god among men is not just not a god, but also not a man, for that person is really a demonstration of the qualities that are more akin to that of the devil.

Probably the only paragraph that is as true as truth gets, though the whole claim that ``the pattern is clear'' is just hubris. See also Colossians 3 (specifically v23), as helpfully pointed out by a Sister---your life is hard because you chose to walk the straight and narrow, to do what is Right as opposed to what is Easy or what is Nice. And you do so because your Father in heaven demands it, because He is Right, and He likes it when you do Right.

``MT, what's wrong?''

Response: What isn't?

``MT, did you just argue with yourself?''

Past MT can be a prophet at times, but he is also a bit of a bitch when he gets overwhelmed. And that fucker gets overwhelmed when he feels that he hasn't prepared enough, though these days, when everything is always out of step with each other, the natural state is often to be unprepared. Past MT often knows what needs to be done (i.e. what is Right to do), but many times he second guesses himself because of the fear of arrogance. Present MT thinks that for that fear, past MT can be a bitch. Present MT tries to do what past MT is too afraid to do, so that Future MT will have a better time. But sometimes Present MT falls short, because that fear-shit is contagious. Present MT is a bit wiser than past MT---he seeks help from wherever he can, through supplication, or through talking with other people that past MT is too much of a whiney bitch to ask.

There are some days I wished I were black-out drunk: all that happened this week are precisely the days for that, even though I have promised myself to never be that wasted again.

Yeah, I get that. But don't be black out drunk---you can only live in this material world if you keep on thinking. And when you are black out drunk, you cannot fucking think, and that will kill you.

Not much else to write except for the need to vague-vent for a bit. Till the next update.

That wasn't even a vague-vent---it was a really poor attempt. I hope that you are proud of yourself for dumping such asinine observations in a pique of anxiety-laden fear.

Because if you hadn't, maybe I wouldn't be here to argue with you.

Bouncing Through an Evolutionary Dead End, One Bad Choice at a Time

I am, as one might call it, an evolutionary dead end. This means that anyone who, for whatever strange reason, decides to use me as an inspiration to live their life, is asking for trouble.

Don't emulate my life. I made enough poor choices among those pitiful few that I have done well.

The first poor choice was to revere my teachers back in the day. There is nothing to revere about them---they are just [young] adults trying to make a living doing a job that involves them doing the same song and dance routine that recurs every year, while dealing with whatever politicking that occurs in the background, their responsibilities increasing, their salary dropping, and with each batch of students getting increasingly disrespectful.

The second poor choice was to spend so much time reading to amass book knowledge, instead of going out there and learning street smarts. All the book knowledge that I have learnt over time is steadily being eroded by the ever-increasing reach of this current generation of machine learning/artificial intelligence, where the indefatigable Machine is allowed free reign to slurp up all the digitsed human knowledge and then create a new walled garden where they rule supreme in the art of Knowing. As I get older, the skills that are increasingly less redundant over time are those that involve the coordination and coaxing of people to do things, i.e. street smarts or social/emotional intelligence, stuff that the so-called books of learning are sorely lacking.

The third poor choice was to go study overseas on a scholarship, instead of staying in SIN city and studying at one of the local universities. The overseas experience might be useful from the social/emotional intelligence point of view from the broadening of horizons with respect to the continual refinement of one's understanding of the human condition, but the stuff that is learnt there, and the friends that were made there are effectively useless when I'm not there.

Which brings me to the fourth poor choice---to return to SIN city and decide to stay here, for the sake of patriotism, and a sense of duty to repay the tax payers for supporting my education abroad via scholarships. Having not been in the local environment during the most important early years of one's professional life meant that I started off in greater isolation than one who has been studying at the local universities, and mingling with the very same people who are likely to be one's compatriots in the working world, thus developing that covetted ``network'' that allows one to thrive better.

Prestige is bullshit. Don't go Harvard because it is Harvard---go to Harvard only if the programme you are interested can only be found in Harvard. So, don't study overseas for the sake of ``prestige''---go overseas to study only if what you are interested it can only be found overseas, and not here.

I can go on, but I think the pattern is clear---there are many that will try to sell a vision to you. Know that the vision is just that: a vision only. Reality is often much different from what the vision holds, and more importantly, even for those who claim the title of ``master planner'' are unlikely to know that much more of the consequences of the vision that they are zealously selling. There are no gods among men---only One True God Above; anyone who claims to be a god among men is not just not a god, but also not a man, for that person is really a demonstration of the qualities that are more akin to that of the devil.

``MT, what's wrong?''

Response: What isn't?

There are some days I wished I were black-out drunk: all that happened this week are precisely the days for that, even though I have promised myself to never be that wasted again.

Not much else to write except for the need to vague-vent for a bit. Till the next update.

A Poor Telling of Why Irony is Dead

Irony is dead---no one should be saying anything that they don't personally believe in or mean on the 'net any more.

This, unfortunately, means the death of the third wave of the 'net.

I know there's a lot to unpack here, but considering that I'm on leave today (and not sick, for once!), I can talk a little bit more on what I mean.

The first wave of the 'net, I was not a part of. As far as I could tell, this happened when the only folks on the 'net were those from the universities, roughly when the World Wide Web was first created. The crowd then were the bookish/academic sorts considering the background. Multimedia was not normal, and thus text interactions a la Usenet were the norm. With text as the primary means of communication, natural extensions of literary techniques (including irony) are the norm, and for the most part, it was ``obvious'' what was being said.

The second wave of the 'net, I was sort of a part of. This was when rudimentary multimedia started their ascent, where graphical interfaces started their long run towards dominance. The 'net was still mostly text based---personal websites were the main information sources, and indexed pages (first by hand, then automatically using variants of PageRank) that were accessible via search mechanisms were one of the newer means of creating reach with the said personal websites. Interactive text messages via IRC or any of the personal messaging platforms flourished, as were the various privately hosted 'net forums.

The user space was starting to get diluted a little, with initial exposure to the nerdier teenages, before slowly percolating out to the less nerdier teenagers. Word play and other literary traditions were still predominant in the communication sphere, and several aphorisms were introduced, including classics like: ``Don't feed the troll.'', and ``On the Internet, no one can tell if you're a dog.'' As funny as the aphorisms may sound, they conveyed a wisdom of never trusting whatever was being posted on the 'net.

Some claimed that MySpace was the start of the third wave, others said it was the burst of the blogs over Blogger or even LiveJournal. But I think the real start of the third wave is Facebook. Facebook was the ``true'' progenitor of the social media revolution. It was originally for college-going folk only, with gatekeeping done at the email address that was used for account creation (it had to end with .edu or otherwise demonstrated to be of a college/university---the specific details on the requirements was never sought by me then). Its purpose was to act as the social events tool.

For the college students in the year of 2006, if you weren't on Facebook, you just weren't going to get anywhere socially---there was simply no way around it. It mirrored a lot of the original first wave 'net, in the sense that the folks on it were somewhat bookish due to being college people. While it was still text heavy, communications technology as a whole has enabled pictures (not videos!) to increase their importance.

Especially since it cost ``nothing'' now to upload pictures, share one's thoughts, and ``socialise''---no need to find paid/free hosting to run your own website, and no need to explain to people how to find it since they can just ``add'' you on Facebook, and see everything there as a part of the newsfeed.

Then Facebook opened up to the rest of the population that was not college-going folk. And it went sideways, because there was no guarantee that whoever is reading whatever is written would be sufficiently attuned to the nuances of what was said.

At the risk of infantilisation, when the written word is made available to all sundry, those who aren't learned enough will take things at face value. They can't tell truth from bullshit, irony from fact, and hyperbole from reality.

And the trolls loved that. Trolls were on a losing path for a long time as the wisdom of the 'net propagated among those who were nerdy enough to be on the 'net. But now, with all these clueless normies who cannot see that the 'net is quite different in style from the real world, the trolls had fresh meat to work with.

And work with the fresh meat the trolls did.

It was originally just bad faith ``fun'', like brigading public polls, or creating bad memes. There were some consequences, but were mostly harmless.

Then the true agent provocateurs started to lurk among the trolls, creating situations that led to real world consequences. Hoaxes, foreign influences to elections, witch hunts, deliberate self-sabotaging through careful application of doublespeak---it would make the trolls from the 1990s drool with sheer envy at the amount of real world impact these agent provocateurs have managed to create.

The permanent 'net mob is thus born.

This mob sees no reason---they run on their own internally inconsistent logic. They perform witch hunts; they are functionally illiterate.

As such, if they ever feel that they are slighted, they will descend upon the alleged offender like a pile of bricks.

And they will co-opt anyone whose words seem to back what they believe in, creating a guilt-by-association set up.

Doesn't matter if what is said in an ironic sense. And God help you if you point out that you were being ironic---that witch hunt will come regardless.

And so, irony is dead.

Stay safe---say only what you mean, and avoid anything that requires at least one braincell to interpret.

And Sometimes, Things Just are Shit

Urgh. The week that just passed was bad. I was basically out of action for the whole week due to an acute URTI (yes... that's URTI). Normally I would just try to ``suck it up'' till I'm in a position where I can operate nearly normally, but thanks to the existence of a high-enough stakes external meeting, I just had to get well enough to go through it.

And so to the doctor I went, and was given enough meds to knock me out cold for a while.

Now I'm in the odd position of still having some viscuous as hell phlegm, but without the usual pus dissolved in it because the bacteria that were causing the trouble had been eliminated through the course of antibiotics.

But I don't really want to talk about that here.

------

I finally caught up with this year's SGDQ. The games that were showcased were sufficiently varied, the production quality high, but as always, the longer the GDQ events are run, the more mainstream they get, and therefore the more they will ostracise the fringe despite being fringe events on their own right.

Part of the annoyance that I have is the many instances of in-your-face virtue signalling on things that aren't directly related to the charity organisation that the particular GDQ event was organised for.

``But MT, you know that the so-called `virtue signalling' you are referring to are very real issues that the individual speedrunners are facing, and thus when they are given a global platform such as GDQ, they should be allowed to express themselves!''

Uh-huh. But the slippery slope begins---why this particular issue deserves a shout-out, while others are taboo? I'm fine with having causes other than the target charity that the speedrunners might have, but it just feels odd to have anything else other than the target charity's mission being shouted at ever so often.

If it were a protest, it would make sense---the idea of a protest is to be as inappropriate with the vibe of the venue as a means of drawing attention to the cause (hence: ``protest''). Thus, a group of people protesting against the execution of some person in some country by standing outside of said country's embassy within the protesters' country makes sense, even if it may be illegal. Or in the extreme, the provocation of violence on the streets to draw attention to a cause in the form of protesting against the authoritarian nature of the state also makes some kind of sense, legality and escalation issues aside.

But what happens at GDQ isn't a protest, because the folks who are watching GDQ aren't the ones who are likely to be part of the cause of the issues in the first place.

An expression of solidarity then? Maybe, but it just feels off at a charity event.

Or maybe I'm just getting jaded from observing that the current trend of the world tends towards the ``might is right'' mentality after having veered away from it for nearly fifty years.

------

I think I need to get back in the saddle of my bicycle. Three-ish weeks of non-cycling due to my work-from-home days being nullified as well as self-diagnosed plantar fascitis surely does not help matters.

I think that's about it for now. I really don't want to write more for now, and would rather get some rest. Till the next update then.

Sometimes, Wonderful Things Happen

Many days, life sucks.

But sometimes, things align, and wonderful things happen. Today is one of those days.

I scored Empires of the Ancient Near East (2nd Edition) for the cool price of SGD5.00. It was sitting on a shelf, alone. I didn't know what possessed me to take a look at it. I spun it around, saw the ``Cheap Item: $5.00'' label, tried to check online what it was about and failing due to no 4G network, asked my colleague to connect to the Wifi and search, found out that it was a decent book without caring about the price (because 5 bucks is a real steal no matter how one looks at it), and went ahead to purchase it with a stupid grin on my face after.

I could also score a linguistics text book for SGD1.00, but I refrained.

So I was holding my haul (sans bag, of course), and my other younger colleague approached me.

``What is this?''

``My people call them `books'! We read them, and sometimes use them for self defense too!''

``Oh, can I use them for self-defense?''

``Nope, because you didn't buy them!''

😅

It was indeed a nice day, shelf space be damned.

The books are in remarkably good condition considering that they hadn't been opened in twenty-five years, with only some minor issues of the plate pages sticking together. The material seems to be well researched too (according to the online reviews), and I am looking forward to reading them.

Friday is soon upon us, and then the long-ish weekend (I've already had approval to clear the off-in-lieu for the Saturday public holiday on Monday instead). I've pieces to work on for a couple of gigs that I'm involved in outside of my usual group(s), and it is exciting.

And I think that's about it. Till the next update then.

August Whatever...

Qnza. Jr'er va Nhthfg abj---gvzr gb oevat bhg gur urnil fghss.

V jnf jbaqrevat gbqnl, jung jbhyq vg gnxr gb bcra zl urneg ntnva, naq nf n frpbaq gubhtug, jul vf vg pybfrq va gur svefg cynpr.

V hfrq gb abg-qvfyvxr crbcyr. V hfrq gb or urycshy naq xvaq gb sbyxf, jvyyvat gb uryc nalbar jub unq n ceboyrz. V npgrq nf noyr nf V pbhyq, rira gubhtu V nz grpuavpnyyl qvfnoyrq, jung jvgu gur ernyyl onq fxva gung cerpyhqrq zr sebz qbvat culfvpny npgvivgvrf jvgubhg trggvat syner hcf (V'z qbvat zhpu orggre abj, ohg V fgvyy unir zl onq qnlf).

Gura ng fbzr cbvag, V fgnegrq gb fybjyl ybfr nyy gung.

Gung cbvag jnf jura V jnf va frpbaqnel fpubby. V jvyy fgnaq ol zl jbeqf: EIUF onpx va gur qnl jnf ryvgvfg ns, naq vs lbh jrera'g sebz gur srrqre fpubbyf, lbh jrer abguvat; vs lbh qvqa'g sbyybj gur pebjq, lbh jrer n qnatrebhf crefba gb or fuhaarq.

Zl gvzr va EIUF jnf abg pbby. V fgnlrq va gur pbzchgre ynof nsgre fpubby gvyy yngr cnegyl orpnhfr V jnf tbvat gb fpubby gung jnf fghcvqyl sne sebz jurer V yvirq (juvpu znqr znkvzvfvat zl gvzr bhgfvqr zber jbegu gur 3 u pbzzhgr), naq cnegyl orpnhfr gur jbeyq bs pbzchgre cebtenzzvat jnf nf zhpu n urnyvat fnyir sbe zr nf vg jnf n zbzrag bs qvfgenpgvba sebz rirelguvat ryfr.

V gevrq gb oyraq va fbzrjung, ohg tnir hc pbzcyrgryl jura V oebxr n obar va zl nez jura V jnf gelvat gb uryc n pynffzngr. Bu, naq gur shpxre qvqa'g rira gunax zr.

Fher, V riraghnyyl pneirq zl bja anzr bhg guebhtu unccrafgnapr naq fbzr yriry bs fxvyy, ohg zl urneg unq orra ybfg sbe n ybat juvyr nyernql. V qba'g rira obgure gelvat gb xrrc hc jvgu nalbar sebz gung ren nal zber.

``Ohg jung nobhg Kvnbyh, naq Puvatuhn?''

V jnf pybfr jvgu Kvnbyh sbe dhvgr n juvyr, orsber bhe yvsr cnguf qviretrq fb sne gung rnpu gvzr jr gevrq gb erpbaarpg, V srry yvxr V'z whfg enzzvat zl urnq vagb n jnyy. V qba'g unir nalguvat va pbzzba jvgu ure nal zber, bgure guna gung jr ner obgu fcrpvzraf bs gur uhzna fcrpvrf, naq rira gung vf nyfb hc sbe qrongr. V hfrq gb guvax gung V unq fbzr xvaq bs pbaarpgvba jvgu ure, ohg vg jnf grahbhf ng orfg.

Abj vg'f ba vaqrsvavgr uvnghf. V jvfurq ure n unccl oveguqnl erpragyl, ohg gur urneg jnfa'g ernyyl va vg---vg sryg sbeprq. V qba'g guvax V'yy qb fb nalzber, whfg gb jnyx njnl zber pyrnayl.

Nf sbe Puvatuhn... gur bayl pbaarpgvba jr rire unq va gur ortvaavat jnf gur snpg gung jr jrer obgu fznegre guna zbfg bs gur sbyxf va pynff, naq jrer trarenyyl ybaref nf n jubyr. Jura whavbe pbyyrtr pnzr, naq riraghnyyl jrag, jr nyzbfg cebzcgyl jrag bhe qvssrerag jnlf, ur gb gur ynaq bs culfvpf, naq zr gb zl orybirq ynaq bs pbzchgre fpvrapr.

Jr zrg ntnva jvgu Qvat rg ny arneyl n qrpnqr onpx, ohg frrvat gung ab bar ryfr bgure guna zr unir orra gelvat gb frg hc zrrg-hcf, V whfg pbafvqre uvz qrnq gb zr gur fnzr jnl gung V nz pbafvqrerq qrnq gb gurz.

Gb cnencuenfr gura, gb bcra bar'f urneg gb n fcrpvny fbzrbar erdhverf gung bar bcra bar'f urneg rabhtu gb unir sevraqf, sbe sevraqfuvc vf gur sbhaqngvba bs nal bgure vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc.

Naq zl sevraq yvfg vf qbja gb fvatyr qvtvgf. V'z abg rira fher vs gung fvatyr qvtvg vf fgevpgyl terngre guna mreb be abg ng guvf cbvag.

Ubj znal crbcyr pna gehyl pynvz gb xabj zr?

Juvpu oevatf hf onpx gb gur vavgvny dhrfgvba: jung jbhyq vg gnxr gb bcra zl urneg ntnva?

V qba'g xabj vs vg vf rira cbffvoyr, ng guvf fgntr.

V'z trggvat byq; V'z frg va zl jnlf. V unir fgebat bcvavbaf ba n srj guvatf gung V xabj/cenpgvfr jryy rabhtu gb cebsrff znfgrel; V unir fbzr bcvavbaf ba rirelguvat ryfr, naq nz jvyyvat gb yvfgra gb arj crefcrpgvirf gb yrnea naq hcqngr zl bja jnl bs ybbxvat ng guvatf.

Ohg vanfzhpu nf V nz trggvat byq, gur jbeyq unf nyernql zbirq ba. Gur nzbhag bs cngvrapr gung nal fvatyr crefba unf vf terngyl erqhprq sebz orsber, naq pbafgnag arrq gb ``purpx gurve cubarf'' ol znal unfa'g orra qbvat zl vafrphevgvrf bs orvat ``vagrerfgvat rabhtu gb ubyq nggragvba'' nal snibhef.

Znlor V nz ernql gb bcra zl urneg, ohg jvyy V whfg trg n fync va gur snpr va erghea? Nz V guvpx-fxvaarq rabhtu gb rng gung xvaq bs evfx guvf yngr va yvsr? Nz V jvyyvat gb nyybj zlfrys gb or evqvphyrq zrepvyrffyl sbe orvat gur bqq-onyy gung V unir nyjnlf orra?

``ZG, trg gurencl.''

Jul? Jba'g gur jbeyq or n orggre cynpr jvgubhg gur yvxrf bs zr jnfgvat gur cerpvbhf erfbheprf? TQC ng nyy pbfgf, vaavg? Bayl culfvpny nvyzragf ner erny---zragny barf ner whfg n qrzbafgengvba bs gur aba-znayl angher bs orvat jrnx-jvyyrq, nzvevgr?

Svefgyl, shpx lbh vs lbh guvax yvxr gung---lbh'er gur ernfba jul fbpvrgl vf tbvat gb uryy. Frpbaqyl, shpx lbh ntnva sbe tbbq zrnfher.

Guveqyl, V inyhr zlfrys sbe fher, ohg V unir ab qbhogf gung fbpvrgl inyhrf zr qvssreragyl---onfvpnyyl nf ybat nf V'z fgvyy ``pbagevohgvat'' gb fbpvrgl, gur arg inyhr V unir sbe fbpvrgl vf fgvyy cbfvgvir.

V yvxr gb frr zlfrys nf n trarenyyl phevbhf sryybj, bar jub rawblf yrneavat n ybg nobhg n ybg, naq univat fbzr engure aba-znvafgernz ivrjf ba znal znggref qhr gb gur vqvbflapengvp ebhgrf gung V unir gnxra, jvgu n qnfu bs pnhgvbhf fxrcgvpvfz ba nhgubevgvrf va trareny. Guvf vf abg rknpgyl lbhe pbbxvr-phggre crefba va FVA pvgl, naq vg fubjf.

Ohg V'z fgvyy urer, V'z fgvyy nyvir, fb V'z whfg tbvat gb qb jung V pna jvgu jung V'ir tbg.

``ZG, guvf vf n qbjare cbfg...''

Jryy, vg'f zl oybt---naq V pna pubbfr jung V jnag gb fnl, naq ubj V jnag gb fnl vg.

Gvyy gur arkg gvzr gura.

First Win in Hades

I feel rotten. A damn headache has been throbbing on and off over the weekend, and I feel rotten about it. Damnation!

Recently, I finished reading Ouran High School Host Club. I think that the manga is much stronger than the anime. The dynamics of Tamaki with his family (father, and grandmother) are much more complex than whatever was portrayed in the anime. I call this the ``Hellsing effect''---where the anime is called into production before the manga has its main story arcs fully resolved, leading to some make-believe storylines just so that the anime can end its run at the correct episode count. The most blatant of this is the comparison of the Hellsing anime against the newer Hellsing OVA---``Incognito'' as the big bad in the anime made no sense to the narrative build up as compared to the final near-pornographic bloodfest showdown between the Major and Sir Integra Hellsing, as their underlings thrash London to fight the war that the washed up ghoul-Nazis of the Major had planned for fifty plus years after the second world war.

``But MT, the source material is almost always richer than the adaptation.''

Yes, that's the point. Which is why we should not be in a rush to make adaptations of stories without knowing how the major arcs' trajectories are heading. I'm not saying that the adaptors are bad---I'm saying that without having the original creator's direction, there will be a jarring change in direction when the plot holes from unresolved story arcs start showing up. Sometimes, even if the original creator is involved, they may not even know where they are heading since they are ``making things up as they go along'' at times (recall that much of the serialised works are paid by some set contract period, in which case the stories need to be crafted at a consistent-enough pace, with sufficient material to ``keep on going'' for the length of the contract). But at least the original creator's general direction can be sought and the plot holes may be resolved amicably within the adaptation.

Ouran High School Host Club is definitely a romantic-comedy, kind of like Kimagure Orange Road, but unlike the latter, I could actually stomach the former without going through hiatuses from reading. I think it's because of the near-surreal comedy that comes from the over-the-top nature of the clash between the high-class society of Ouran High School and the ``commoners' common sense'' deadpan nature of Haruhi/Ranka---it definitely feels more funny than jealousy inducing, even when Hikaru/Kaoru were showing actual jealousy against Tamaki.

All in all, I like the manga. And thanks to Eirian-VI, I can now tackle the offline version of Questionable Content, all 5.6k pages of them as at the crawl. I'm saying this now because The Adventures of Dr McNinja is no longer available at its original form due to the site being attacked. I have my own offline copy (of course), but for those who want to read this masterpiece of 2010s webcomic storytelling, a kind soul has uploaded it to The Internet Archive.

In short, what I mean is this: if there's something on the 'net that you enjoy, and would like to revisit it again in the future, there is no shame to find a way to make a copy of it. Because the adage of ``what goes on the 'net stays there forever'' is patently false.

``MT, what about DRM?''

Heh. What is morally/ethically the right thing to do sometimes has no support in law---in which case the law is not just and needs to be amended. The law is a set of rules that a particular society has agreed to abide by, and if they are created by humans, they can be amended by humans. Whereas morality and ethics are based on stronger absolute values that may only be judged by God---no one save God can change them.

------

I talked about Juufuutei Raden's Guide for Pixel Museum in a post from last month, and I am proud to say that I have finally finished all the 300+ puzzles. The nonogram puzzles were fun, but I preferred those that were associated with the artifacts than the ones that were part of Raden's memories---the former had interesting patterns, while the latter, being some selected part of some pictures that depicted an event Raden was in, seemed to be simpler ones based around basic geometric patterns instead.

So effectively, the memories section felt like filler, and the game would be stronger if they were taken out. But then again, taking them out might reduce the effect of the game as a soft introduction for the casual nonogram lover to the very learned/cultured (literally, not the ironic form of ``cultured'') VTuber that is Juufuutei Raden.

Overall, still loved the game, and am glad that I finished all the puzzles.

------

Ah Hades. I last talked about it nearer the start of the month, and I'm proud to announce my first win of the game.

It took me 60 previous runs to get my first win on the 61st, and it was with a weapon that I never thought I could ever win easily with (the Bow).

I was expecting my first win to be with the Spear---ah well.

The Bow was not easy to fight with---there was long-ish charge time before the attack can be made, and the AOE was quite shit. The damage from the Bow was also bad (but not as terrible as the Rifle I mean Exagryph I mean Adamant Rail). What made this win possible was largely through the power of the RNGod.

Heartbreak Strike gave me more damage with Weak as a curse, which was cool.

Explosive Shot changed the single-shot into a small AOE, but it slowed down the charging rate. This was rectified somewhat with Swift Strike that added back 30% attack rate.

Companion Battie helped me save one Death Defiance that I was about to lose at the boss fight of Elysium (that 2.5k damage against the solo Theseus meant that I could finish him off with one more shot even as my HP was inching to 0).

I could consistently best the Furies (bosses of the first biome of Tartarus), reaching near consistency against Lernie (boss of the second biome of Asphodel), and am inconsistent with Theseus and Asterius (bosses of the third biome of Elysium). Big bossman Hades (boss of Styx) was always hard, and I was only starting to reach his second stage.

The true MVP for the win is Smoldering Air with Aphrodite's Aid. This combination allowed me to spam Aphrodite's Aid consistently about once every 5 s, and the Charm that comes from the boon effectively interrupts Hades' laser attacks. That gave me more opportunities to land hits more often, needing 3/4 less hits than without the effects of Explosive Shot, and avoid damage as I fumble my way through.

And as you can tell in the screenshot of the victory, I got through the barest of my skin right there.

Honourable mention goes to Festive Fog boosted by Scintillating Feast---it added some additional AOE, and gave enough curses with Weak to allow Privileged Status to proc, giving an additional 40% of damage.

To think that I was contemplating whether to turn on God Mode for that 20% damage reduction that would increase by 2 percentage points for each death... there's no real penalty for using God Mode, but it does store the records separately from non-God Mode. I think I'm fine without God Mode, as shown through this first win. I did a meme run with all the Pact of Punishment conditions at Max, and didn't survive for more than one chamber. Bummer. I suppose it's back to the regular mode for now.

This first win is also special because I think this is the first time I actually had a successful run of some rogue-lite in a long while. I don't usually do well in rogue-lites because they tend to get a tad twitchy, and my reflexes are no longer what they were. Meta-progression in Hades is fun compared to say Rogue Legacy because it is so much easier to control, particularly with the meta-progression currency being separate and persistent as compared to in-run currency for in-run progression items.

And now, another 9 more wins to unlock the rest of the story. 💀

------

I wrote a new short story over at my prose blog, and I think that it caught some aspects of a narrative that I was hallucinating about that day. Not sure if it truly achieved what I wanted to say, but I think it is good that I'm writing things other than work reports, slide decks, and rants out here.

I suppose that's about it for now. July is fast reaching an end, and soon, it will be August with all the craziness that the appraisal period brings.

Oh and SIN city celebrates its GOTH BIRTHDAY.

...

I mean 60TH BIRTHDAY. Who the hell capitalises the ordinal suffix letters?

Till the next update.

Supply Run and then Some...

What a week! But before I recap what happened, I'd like to share two principles of mine.

Principle 1: I refuse to go out alone with a female friend who is married/have a steady boyfriend. Now I know and they know that friend means friend, but the person who does not know me as well may develop some weird thoughts about what is going on---why be someone else's stumbling stone? As a corollary, I prefer creating group chats that contains both the couple and I for coordination purposes. The reason for this is much simpler: whatever is said to my friend will definitely make its way to her significant other. In which case, I'd rather make it more direct and clear to avoid ``telephone game'' syndrome.

Principle 2: If you are a sit-down restaurant, I don't mind if you make me use your stupid web site to make an order. However, if the only way you are allowing me to pay is to enter my payment information into the same stupid web site, then I'm walking out if alone, or it will be the last time I eat at your place if I'm with others and cannot easily leave (I'll get someone else in my party to pay through your stupid system). Two such sit-down places have been black-listed by me for this (that udon place in UTown, and the replacement restaurant out at NUS Alumni House), and today, I added a new one: Nando's.

See, the card has a chip on it. And the payment system as provided by the bank is simultaneously faster and more direct for payment than the stupid web site way---I do not like sitting at the stupid table just to enter 20--23 digits worth of numbers (16 digits for the card number, then another 4 for the expiry month, and maybe an extra 3 for the CVV2 number). And with the ubiquity of surveillance camera, some fucker can just review the video and figure out what those information are, should they so choose.

``But MT, you can just add your payment information to like your Google Pay/Apple Pay, and then use it from there...''

...and if I lose my phone, fuck me. No thanks.

------

Today's a leave day to make up for the fact that 2025-07 has no public holidays. I could have gone for yet another long-ass cycle, but my heart really isn't in it, and more importantly, I needed to make some supply runs.

The most important is meds. This is a normal run that I need to do about once every quarter-ish, on average.

The next is replacement shoes. I think I last got my daily work shoes back in 2023, and they have developed some very interesting holes through the leather due to wear and tear from walking too much. And so, I had two pairs to replace them.

``MT, why two?''

To alternate. It makes the shoes less stinky, and more importantly, they retain their shape much better when allowed a full 24 hours to chill out in between uses. I would have done the same for my boots if I wear them often enough, but I don't, so it's just the one pair for now.

The last is a new external HDD. The current one is 4 TB (that's SI prefix there), and it has been years. So it's time to get another one. I was scouting earlier, and saw a Western Digital Duo Book that could go up to 44 TB---in the form of 2× 22 TB hard drives in RAID 0 configuration. It was tempting, but I didn't end up getting it for a couple of reasons: it was a ``desktop model'' that needed an external power source, and 44 TB is stupid large. Even if it were reconfigured to 22 TB via RAID 1, that is still a stupidly large amount of data to work with---if I lose data due to the hard drive going bananas, that's a stupid amount of data to lose/restore.

So I just got a 5 TB one, and as I am writing, I am doing the necessary data transfer from the older HDD to the new one. It still sucks though---one of the syncing operations has an estimated 2.4k min, or nearly 2 days. And since both hard drives each need a USB-A port, I'm out of a mouse---no games involving mice for these two days.

Oww.

But the supply run was successful. That Nando's thing happened, and I just ate at Josh's Grill nearby, which was excellent.

------

In other news, my Ninomae Ina'nis merch has arrived. I now have a nice hoodie of octopuses, and it is really cool! I mean, it's warm too, but you get the idea.

Volumes 5--7 of the Flute Sheet Archive has also arrived, but since it requires a USB-A port to access, it might as well be in the mail still.

------

Mentally though, I'm a mixed bag now. A little this, a little that, a little something else.

Overall, I'm functional. But am I thriving?

I don't know.

Till the next update then.

As Spoken in Flute Forum...

In response to an observation on the Flute Forum that some grading boards are requiring videoed performances for examinations, especially at the diploma level:

Doomposter mode.

Data is the lifeblood of the new economy, and I would not be surprised if these videoed examinations are a way for the relevant boards to amass data of performances for sale under the guise of data analysis.

A very negative one is the new capability of nit-picking, therefore gatekeeping the higher certifications. Why rely on the "error prone" and subjective comments of the examiners from a live performance, when one can rewind and replay and highlight all the minutae on how one is doing something sub-par?

A more positive spin is the normalisation of the "Internet Content Creator" path for performers under the guise of the "democratisation of the Arts through application of communication technology".

Do I believe that everything I said here is true? Not wholly, but I would not be surprised if these are part of the calculus over the more obvious "let's save money/time from all that travelling!"

Honest reflection? I can see these happening, really. Most interactions these days are held over the 'net, and with the rise of cheap (relative to before) mobile Internet, videos are fast becoming the dominant form of media creation/consumption.

And this includes things like VTubers, that I like to watch.

Music is a performance art---one performs for an audience. In the past, the audience were on the streets (literally), or in the concert hall.

But today, the audience is online.

Not being able to work with technology for performing will be a major disadvantage for the modern professional.

But with recordings comes the pursuit of perfection. See also how music albums are made, and relatedly, why going to watch your favourite band live in concert should be more about the vibes than about trying to listen to great music a la album quality.

And then there's that AI grenade that I lobbed in.

That, I have no doubts will be an eventuality. It's just a natural consequence---current generative AI is orders of magnitude better than what was available ten years ago, and their use in entertainment is gaining more traction as the MBAs start realising that they have the equivalent of slave labour compared to the existing artiste/artist structure.

Of course they'll find a way to monetise it. And the examination boards are the best place to get high quality data, especially since the examinee is the one who pays for the privilege of being graded.

And the examination boards can double dip too---take money as part of the examination fees, and then take more money as a data source.

Any half-decent MBA would be frothing at the mouth for that.

``MT, that sounds dystopian...''

It doesn't sound dystopian---it is the reality we are living in.

That's all for now.

Ramblings of a Tired Old Man

Thank God the week is done. I am so fucking done with the week.

So much stupidity, so much drama, so little reprieve.

Sadly, not even today.

------

I like drawing the line between personal time, and work time. Part of the reason of this is the [gradual] realisation of several points of reality:

• Workers sell their availability for the price of the compensation;
• No one is truly indispensable;
• There is rarely any [uncompensated] work that requires ``instant'' responses to; and
• Power trippers are gonna power trip.

As a result, I really hate it when people want to use one of the many informal direct-communication tools (like WhatsApp, Telegram) as their primary means of conducting business.

Apart from the sheer disruption to personal time if one is dumb enough in this age to not have a separate cellphone number for work, there are also other important business reasons why this is a bad idea. The most important of which is the difficulty of maintaining a paper trail of events/decisions that were made---many of these communication tools lack an easy to export log, and even if they do, the fact that they border on the informal register makes the meandering conversation hard to distill down to the actual important point.

Not to mention the false narrative of how email-spam is annoying while somehow getting random notifications from these chatting programs isn't, especially since how one can actually set up filters to channel unimportant emails into different folders for most of the email clients/providers but cannot do the same for chat logs.

``MT why are you bringing this up here?''

No reason.

------

Previously, I talked about doing ``arts and crafts'' in the form of restoring the colour of the carvings on my dizi. I used the gold Pentel acrylic paint, and it had good results.

What I didn't mention was that I had bought a neon(?) green one (also Pentel acrylic) too, for some of the carvings that were filled with green. I tried using that, and the results were disappointing.

The green one didn't go into the crevices well, and even when they did, they looked nothing like the colour that they held when squeezed out. I don't know if it is because the green one was less viscous than the gold one (it didn't feel that way), or that the green just isn't as opaque as the gold one when spread thin enough [into the crevices], or that the particular formulation for green wasn't as ``sticky'' to stay in the crevices of the carvings.

In other words, the green was a failure, and a SGD 2.50 lesson.

Ah well.

------

The Summer Steam sale is in full swing, and I was angry for quite a while when I couldn't purchase the stuff I wanted to.

After ding-donging with Steam Support (yes, they exist and actually work, unlike Grab that stiffed me out of SGD 15.00 voucher use because their stupid app allowed me to apply it after the ride was booked and not before by trapping me in AI chatbot hell (2025-07-22 edit: Turns out that Grab did not stiff me after all---while the original deduction was the full price, the actual settlement made was the one where the voucher was used)), the problem was found: Command & Conquer™ The Ultimate Collection (sale price of SGD 11.48). Take that off, and it works.

Of course, ``today'' I got Command & Conquer™ Remastered Collection for SGD 6.22, but bearing in mind that it doesn't have... I don't know what.

The main purpose is to play some C&C, having not really played it before, for cheap.

Aaanyway, the thing I want to gush over is not C&C nor Steam Support, but Hades.

How could I have missed out on this?

Maybe it's because of my dissatisfaction with a similar game like Hyper Light Drifter. I like rogue-likes, but I prefer it when I have time to think. Same reason why Crypt of the NecroDancer didn't jive well with me (maybe I'll revisit it again...).

But Hades... it is actually fun! There is some meta-progression that helps nullify some of the pain from the real-time gameplay (I'm looking at you, Binding of Isaac!), and there's an actual story. I've been having too much fun just romping around thrashing the underworld in Hades.

``MT, what changed your mind?''

Reine played Hades, she had fun, and it looked fun.

That said, I also pulled the trigger and get Blue Prince, for the same reason, despite the whole ``dynamic puzzles rogue-like urrghhhh'' pain.

And that pretty much summarises my Summer Steam sale adventures.

------

Lastly, officially I'm fat. I've slacked off my mass-tracking for three months, and am 80 kg now.

It sucks.

Back to OMAD and the control measures again.

Till the next update.

colonisation vs infection

I was pretty angry a couple of days ago.

The long and short of it without naming names is that the nurse from the community hospital informed me that the person who was in said institution was isolated due to a ``CP-CRE infection''.

``CP-CRE infection?''

``Yes, CP-CRE infection. It's garbled-text escholvvabacteria---it's a long name bacteria that exists in the gut when we tested person.''

``So, did person get this from the previous general hospital, or did person get it here?''

``It is normal to have it.''

``I know, but when person was at the general hospital, they were giving person antibiotics. I don't have the case notes that you do, and am curious about how this infection came about.''

``Sir, I think you should talk to the doctor. Doctor will do their rounds tomorrow, and I can get doctor to call you between eight and nine in the morning.''

``Okay, thank you Staff Nurse staff-nurse-name.''

That was Monday, after I had my eyeball examined under observation duty rules (I'm mostly out of the woods, and can re-start more vigorous activities like cycling---thank God; but Doc still wanted one more check-in in three weeks' time). I made arrangements to work from home just so that I don't miss the call.

Tuesday came. Eight o'clock came. Nine o'clock came and went. I was on tenterhooks, working fitfully, trying to be alert to the call, while also doing the myriad of smaller tasks that did not require a large block of uninterrupted time.

Ten o'clock came, eleven.

I was pissed.

A call was made to said community hospital, looking for the original Staff Nurse.

Original wasn't on duty. A different one took the call, and very lazily said that the doctor was still on rounds.

``I was promised that the doctor will call in the morning between eight and nine. I am working and had to make arrangements to receive this call to understand what's going on.''

``Oh... doctor can call you after lunch.''

``When's lunch?''

``Twelve-thirty to one.''

``Okay, thank you.''

Twelve o'clock, then one o'clock. The phone rang.

``Hi, I'm Doctor different-doctor-name.''

``Hi Doctor, I'm person's relation. I was told by Staff Nurse staff-nurse-name that person is currently isolated because of CP-CRE infection. I'm curious because person seemed well before the transfer, but the last I remembered before person was transferred that person was on some antibiotics. I'm not sure if that is helping with this infection, or if something else needs to be done about the infection.''

``Oh... it's not an infection. It's a colonisation.''

``Colonisation?''

``Yes, colonisation.''

``That's a helluva different thing. So person's not infected?''

``No, person's not infected. We were doing a routine test and found that person had CP-CRE colonisation, so we isolated person to prevent the spread to other patients in the ward.''

``I see... that was not what I was told yesterday by Staff Nurse staff-nurse-name.''

``Ah...''

``So just to recap so that I get the correct picture, person has a CP-CRE colonisation and not infection, and there's no need for us to do anything. person is currently isolated from the other patients just so that they do not catch the CP-CRE.''

``Yes, that's right.''

``I see. Thank you doctor! Sorry if I sound rough, but please understand that I had to make arrangements from work just so I could receive the call in the morning that Staff Nurse staff-nurse-name said would come, but didn't actually get that call till now.''

``No problems. Glad to help!''

😫

What the flying fuck man.

Look, I understand the need to dumb things down for the lay person when it comes to explaining complicated medical conditions, but what pissed me off was the sheer condescending nature (bad attitude, but not that big a deal) and the absolutely incorrect terminology.

colonisation

The presence of the micro-organism, but without pathogenic effects.

infection

The presence of the micro-organism that is actively invading the body, causing pathogenic effects.

These are two very different situations!

If the staff nurse said ``CP-CRE colonisation'', I'd just go ``I wakaru, thank you for the information'' and not have to ask any of the questions that eventually led me on that absolute waste of a perfect morning waiting for a useless call.

``But MT, it was just the morning!''

I would be less angry if that were true.

The thing is, that was no social call I was expecting---I was steeling myself for the hard/serious questions regarding the treatment plan that the community hospital had for handling this infection. Being on hyper-vigilance to wait for the call saps spoons, and by the time it was all done, I was completely drained of spoons.

I ended up taking a half-day sick leave (no MC) just to reset my mental state. I was that drained.

I had wanted to go cycling, but didn't because (1) I didn't feel safe enough to control my body with my then-current mental state, and (2) I hadn't charged my GPSr-watch that I used for tracking distances and other useful metrics.

So I ended up doing some ``arts and crafts'' by restoring the colour of the carvings of the key/maker/poem on some of my dizi with the gold Pentel acrylic paint that I bought on Monday.

It was messy, but the mess was easy to deal with (relatively speaking), and the end results were pretty that it helped me to defray all that innate anger and loss of spoons.

There are more annoying and stupid things that happened, but maybe I'll reserve it for a different day. Maybe.

Till the next update.

Knackered at Eight?

I know that I'm knackered when I feel sleepy as the clock claims 2000hrs. Such is this week.

Between lots of work versus lots of stuff in personal life, it seems that I might actually prefer lots of work. Reason: at least I can walk away from work---I cannot [easily] walk away from stuff in personal life.

I feel like... I might need another long-ass walk stat. But it's not coming any time soon.

July is upon us, and I don't really have anything thought out. Life's just a blank, for some reason.

That's all I want to say, today.

I'm just tired.

The humid heat is not doing me any favours.

Till the next update, whenever that may be.

Recovering from Missing Beyond Compare 5 UI

Just a quick note on how to resolve an oddity.

I used Beyond Compare 5 to compare two 2.8 GB files, and when I was done, I closed the application.

Then later on, when I tried opening the application again, it ran due to the process being seen in Task Manager, but the UI was nowhere to be found.

I tried rebooting Windows 11, didn't fix it.

I tried uninstalling and then reinstalling Beyond Compare 5, didn't fix it.

What helped with the recovery was this:

1. Pull up a command line prompt from within where Beyond Compare 5 was installed.
2. Execute:

   BCompare.exe /solo /edit

   This pulls up the text edit window of Beyond Compare 5.
3. From the opened window, pull up a new session.
4. Save the workspace (name it anything), and then close the application.

Subsequently, activating Beyond Compare 5 was like normal.

Why this happened in the first place? No idea---might be a corrupted state of the UI when it was dealing with the difference of two rather large files [in binary].

Why this could fix? No idea too---but most likely the built-in text editor is a different code path that bypasses that corrupted state processing that stopped the loading of the UI, which allowed the corrupted state to be fixed through the series of arcane steps.

Hopefully this is useful, but I doubt it. Unlike the era of the Neverwinter Nights 2 Texture Bug, modern incarnations of search engines are more like ad-generating machines with additional AI slop (gasp!).

In other words, this is likely to be buried.

And that's the quick note.

Walking Reset My Mind

``Wow MT, another entry in near-quick succession?''

Yeah... I declared a ``mental well-being day'' for today and went outside to touch grasswalk like an idiot, doing 19+ km in less than 4 h. The route wasn't anything exotic like Windsor Park or Bukit Timah Nature Reserve, but just the humble Northeast Riverine Loop that I usually cycle during lunch hour on days that I work from home. Taking nearly four times as long to walk the route really makes me appreciative of the speed that one gets from a bicycle.

My pinky toes are lightly blistered, my knees feel wrecked (yes, I was walking on flat ground, but unlike the paths in the other more exotic areas, these are almost all concrete), but my mind feels so much more at ease. I feel ready to face the world again, and thus to deal with whatever is coming my way.

And that is a good thing.

As I walked through the stupid heat (with sunglasses on!), I started to do lots of thinking. I've been playing Cyberpunk 2077 [again], and one of the key themes within the game is that of transhumanism in the form of ``chroming up'', i.e. to use cyberware implants as a means of enhancing and sometimes even outright replacing various functionalities of the person. It's a milder form of what Battle Angel Alita, since much of the implants still leave the people more-or-less human-shaped, while in Battle Angel Alita, more exotic physical forms take hold, even as the brains are kept roughly as what they were supposed to be.

All that thought of transhumanism made me think: if given the opportunity, would I be interested in cyberware implants?

I.. don't think I'd be interested in such cyberware implants. It's weird, considering that I'm a technologist, but hear me out. My work/day job are heavily mental in nature (thinking abstract stuff, and implementing systems that run off such abstract stuff in the form of computers). In that context, the cyberware implants might be fine.

But I don't live for work---I live for the stuff that I do outside of work, and strangely enough, I find that the things that I enjoy outside of work, they are quite physical in nature.

Take music-making for example. There was a moment where I tried composition, but in the end, I found that I preferred just playing the flutes, saxophones, and dizi over the mental process of putting together a piece. There's just something about the need to regulate my breathing, coordinating it with my fingers and eyes in a skillful way that makes it very satisfying.

Then there's the whole cycling/walking (I daren't call it ``hiking'' when I know of hard core hiking that Brian does) thing---it's also very physical. The feel of the sun on my skin, the sweat off my brow, the cajoling of the muscles to move despite their reluctance from exertion after being sedentary for too long, the eventual aches and soreness that come, followed by a deep, relaxing sleep with a refreshed mind---these are what makes life worth living [without having to rely on another person to ``provide'' that kind of proof-of-living].

It is that literal visceral feeling that I seek outside of work, and having enough body parts replaced via cyberware implants seem to remove quite a bit of what makes me, well me.

So for now, if cyberware implants were made available, I might not want to partake in them.

``MT, what if they are prostheses for replacing damaged body parts?''

I don't know. Considering that I've already been more or less ``looking forward to being dead'', perhaps the natural outcome is to ignore such prostheses. But that does not mirror what is happening in real life---otherwise why would I go through the process of taking care of my weirded out left eyeball through observation duty, or for that matter, attempt to take care of whatever nonsense my skin decides to throw at me?

Contradiction.

I think that while I am ``looking forward to being dead'', I'm not looking forward to suffering before I am dead, and as a result, have been taking actions somewhat consistent with that kind of behaviour.

``But MT, what about health screening? Why aren't you doing anything about that?''

Good question on that one---no real answer. Why screen for things that I already have a good sense of (I know I'm fat), and for things that I have little to no reason to take care of (e.g. cancer---if I'm hit with it, I think I'm more likely than not to refuse treatment and just die from it, at least, as at now)?

The time hasn't come for me to off myself, so I'm not going to do so just yet.

Anyway, those are just matter-of-fact discussions---I'm feeling much better from the released endorphins from that long-ass walk earlier in the day.

I'll end this post for now to turn in early. It'll be a good night's sleep ahead.