I lay there within my half-opened casket, serene as a man can ever be. Right there next to my glass-covered top, my aged but still lovely wife weeps to herself. Oh the sorrow, the pain! Yet she maintains her dignified poise, melancholy notwithstanding. Comforting her with an arm around her shoulders is my eldest daughter, lovely, tall and dressed in the deepest black that one could think of. She has always been my pride and joy, for being first-born meant she was the child I held the longest and watched over the most. Her husband stands quietly near her---it is not his place to be in deep mourning; his role is mostly supportive. My other daughter flanks my wife on the other side, silently sobbing to herself; she's not as tough as my eldest, but still she has her strong moments, but now was not the time. My son stands in front of my portrait, his head bowed, face unsmiling, tearless, serious---I have brought him up well, it seems, for stoicness was one thing I thought every male should have about him, to never look emotional in front of others other than those close by.
The monk finally finishes the prayer that he was chanting to free my soul of my earthly shackles. Already I feel a little lighter. My wife's weeping intensified, and if I weren't already dead I would have leapt up to her and hold her and tell her once more how much I love her and don't really want to go. With a solemn bow, the monk steps away from his position and the pallbearers stepped up. The lead pallbearer gave a final bow to me, before closing the lid of my coffin. With a silent one-two, the pallbearers lift my casket upon their shoulders and walked solemnly into the antechamber behind the curtains. The small cortege behind me filed out of the main area and shuffled up to the viewing room on the second floor.
There, they got to see the funeral home workers lift up my casket and slowly bring it to the conveyor belt that fed into the gaping door of the furnace of the crematorium. My wife, stoically strong thus far, finally wails audibly, dignity be damned, while my daughters try their best to comfort her while stifling their own tears with little effect. Confronted with the final inevitability, even my son's eyes were tearing.
The funereal home workers gently pushed my casket onto the conveyer belt and stepped back, their heads bowed in respect. My casket rolls gently down the conveyer into the furnace, where I get consumed by the flames for the last time. While I know that I am dead, I leave knowing that my son and daughters will carry on with life, and that they will take care of my lover till the day comes that she joins me for true eternal bliss.
Sunday, October 09, 2011
Funereal #2
Ahem.
Saturday, October 08, 2011
It's Saturday Already?
It's yet another Saturday morning, and again I'm sitting at my study desk next to the window, the only time that I can get decent illumination from this desk. That corneal abrasion episode took away a good chunk of my time as I shuttled to and fro doctors, instilled eyedrops like clockwork, worrying about how scary the final bill will be, worrying about how all these down time is affecting my already burgeoning workload.
It's not easy living life without support, especially a life where everything needs to be pre-planned and time-managed from start to end. In the bid to obtain a life where I have a slightly less mundane existence, I find myself in a life that requires inordinate amounts of self-discipline just to pull things off. Such is the irony of life. And just when I thought I could put all those years of self-discipline behind me too.
I think at this point, the one big thing I can say about the PhD programme is that it is one long struggle between doing things and finding enough time to deal with the whole life aspect of things. Life has a strange way of creeping up on you when you are not really noticing, and what happens after that is usually quite complicated, since in life, you have to deal with more than just yourself; there's always someone or something else in the equation that you need to look out for.
Okay, no real mood to wax lyrical. Need to get some stuff done so that I can... work on other stuff. Till next time.
It's not easy living life without support, especially a life where everything needs to be pre-planned and time-managed from start to end. In the bid to obtain a life where I have a slightly less mundane existence, I find myself in a life that requires inordinate amounts of self-discipline just to pull things off. Such is the irony of life. And just when I thought I could put all those years of self-discipline behind me too.
I think at this point, the one big thing I can say about the PhD programme is that it is one long struggle between doing things and finding enough time to deal with the whole life aspect of things. Life has a strange way of creeping up on you when you are not really noticing, and what happens after that is usually quite complicated, since in life, you have to deal with more than just yourself; there's always someone or something else in the equation that you need to look out for.
Okay, no real mood to wax lyrical. Need to get some stuff done so that I can... work on other stuff. Till next time.
Friday, October 07, 2011
Clean Bill of Health?
The nightmare of 2+ weeks is just reaching the end, and none too soon I might add.
A day-long travel out to Bloomington, Illinois is nothing to scoff at, considering that it is a 60-mile journey one-way from Champaign-Urbana. Factoring in the fear of the unknown meant that I added a generous buffer to the overall time that I was willing to spend out here in Bloomington before hopping on the long-haul bus back home.
That last 1%---finally there is some closure. The expert has spoken; there is no medical risk of the epithelial ingrowth colonising the entirety of my cornea, and that any procedure that would be done will be done so under my own comfort level. The gist of it is that the corneal flap has folded back slightly, and it is under the ophthamologist's opinion that it wouldn't post a problem unless I feel discomfort from it, i.e. things like having ridiculously dry eyes for extended periods of times, sudden change in astigmatism, or random feelings of foreign bodies within the eye itself. In short, that 1% isn't going to matter unless it is actually affecting me, then I can always go back to her to have her lift the flap and scrape of those epithelial cells, all under local anaesthesia of course.
Probably the best bit of news I have heard in a while.
Right now, I'm in no rush to get back into Jujitsu training---still need to alter my gi a little (damn thing is still too damn long in spite my ``best fit'' sizing). Also, while that 1% is declared medically insignificant, I want to give it just a little more time to recuperate, and until I can get hold of some of those protective goggles. Calling those things protective goggles is kind of strange, when in reality there are really spectacles with particularly sturdy frames. Might as well, considering that I have been thinking of updating my prescription for a while now for long-range work like driving. I asked the doctor if it were normal of me to not use my glasses when working on the computer, and her reply was that my eyes were lazy; since I was already myopic to begin with, the eye just refuses to use the eye muscles to accomodate for the nearer vision given the correction. This happens only because the level of myopia that I have now is sufficiently low that objects placed just at arm's length distance away just happens to be sitting within the comfort zone of my eyes' focal length. Well I suppose I'm going to keep doing this as I don't really see a need to fix anything---worst case I'll see if I can get a greatly reduced power for close range work, mostly to fight the astigmatism that can distort things.
I was feeling quite listless over the past fortnight, considering that I couldn't really do any of the physical activities stuff that I liked doing due to my corneal abrasion (Jujitsu and geocaching). But today, I think I had my share of venting out these frustrated energies through the long walk to and fro the ophthamologist's office from the long haul bus stop. The Google Maps' estimated distance for the route along the main roads was estimated to be around 2.4 miles, and I walked both directions, plus a mile here and there when I slipped off to pick up some geocaches along the way. All in all, I think I walked about 10 kilometres today, not counting the daily 7 kilometres of cycling I do to get to office and back. I bet I don't even get to clock such mileage back in Singapore heheheheh... yet I find myself willing to take walking as a valid mode of transport here. For fun, I used my GPSr to track how fast I was walking, and it turned out to be, on average, 3.7 miles per hour, which is roughly 5.9 kilometres per hour. Not super fast, but fast enough to make the time quoted for walking on Google Maps irrelevant.
And so, my Thursday is almost done, spent in a different town getting expert advice on my eyes because the town that I am based in had no such experts. Such is the strangeness of life. Now the only thing left to do for this episode is to wait for the medical bill and see just how much 20% of it really is, and then figure out how to pay for it without using up all of my allowances. I am hoping that the cost isn't too drastic, but I can't be sure only because no one seems to publish the consultation rate. According to Mangesh, my colleague/labmate, those rates are hardly published because they change according to the health insurance provider. Talk about stratified sampling for sales. I just hope that the part I need to pay is reasonable enough.
Alright, enough of ranting. I should probably start to walk towards the pick up point and wait for the bus. Hanging out in another university's student centre is a little weird and disconcerting, particularly when it's evening and there's no one about. I must be missing something here I suppose.
Till the next update.
A day-long travel out to Bloomington, Illinois is nothing to scoff at, considering that it is a 60-mile journey one-way from Champaign-Urbana. Factoring in the fear of the unknown meant that I added a generous buffer to the overall time that I was willing to spend out here in Bloomington before hopping on the long-haul bus back home.
That last 1%---finally there is some closure. The expert has spoken; there is no medical risk of the epithelial ingrowth colonising the entirety of my cornea, and that any procedure that would be done will be done so under my own comfort level. The gist of it is that the corneal flap has folded back slightly, and it is under the ophthamologist's opinion that it wouldn't post a problem unless I feel discomfort from it, i.e. things like having ridiculously dry eyes for extended periods of times, sudden change in astigmatism, or random feelings of foreign bodies within the eye itself. In short, that 1% isn't going to matter unless it is actually affecting me, then I can always go back to her to have her lift the flap and scrape of those epithelial cells, all under local anaesthesia of course.
Probably the best bit of news I have heard in a while.
Right now, I'm in no rush to get back into Jujitsu training---still need to alter my gi a little (damn thing is still too damn long in spite my ``best fit'' sizing). Also, while that 1% is declared medically insignificant, I want to give it just a little more time to recuperate, and until I can get hold of some of those protective goggles. Calling those things protective goggles is kind of strange, when in reality there are really spectacles with particularly sturdy frames. Might as well, considering that I have been thinking of updating my prescription for a while now for long-range work like driving. I asked the doctor if it were normal of me to not use my glasses when working on the computer, and her reply was that my eyes were lazy; since I was already myopic to begin with, the eye just refuses to use the eye muscles to accomodate for the nearer vision given the correction. This happens only because the level of myopia that I have now is sufficiently low that objects placed just at arm's length distance away just happens to be sitting within the comfort zone of my eyes' focal length. Well I suppose I'm going to keep doing this as I don't really see a need to fix anything---worst case I'll see if I can get a greatly reduced power for close range work, mostly to fight the astigmatism that can distort things.
I was feeling quite listless over the past fortnight, considering that I couldn't really do any of the physical activities stuff that I liked doing due to my corneal abrasion (Jujitsu and geocaching). But today, I think I had my share of venting out these frustrated energies through the long walk to and fro the ophthamologist's office from the long haul bus stop. The Google Maps' estimated distance for the route along the main roads was estimated to be around 2.4 miles, and I walked both directions, plus a mile here and there when I slipped off to pick up some geocaches along the way. All in all, I think I walked about 10 kilometres today, not counting the daily 7 kilometres of cycling I do to get to office and back. I bet I don't even get to clock such mileage back in Singapore heheheheh... yet I find myself willing to take walking as a valid mode of transport here. For fun, I used my GPSr to track how fast I was walking, and it turned out to be, on average, 3.7 miles per hour, which is roughly 5.9 kilometres per hour. Not super fast, but fast enough to make the time quoted for walking on Google Maps irrelevant.
And so, my Thursday is almost done, spent in a different town getting expert advice on my eyes because the town that I am based in had no such experts. Such is the strangeness of life. Now the only thing left to do for this episode is to wait for the medical bill and see just how much 20% of it really is, and then figure out how to pay for it without using up all of my allowances. I am hoping that the cost isn't too drastic, but I can't be sure only because no one seems to publish the consultation rate. According to Mangesh, my colleague/labmate, those rates are hardly published because they change according to the health insurance provider. Talk about stratified sampling for sales. I just hope that the part I need to pay is reasonable enough.
Alright, enough of ranting. I should probably start to walk towards the pick up point and wait for the bus. Hanging out in another university's student centre is a little weird and disconcerting, particularly when it's evening and there's no one about. I must be missing something here I suppose.
Till the next update.
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
But I'm Only a Student...
There are some days in my life that I wish I were dead or non-existent, and it seems that today is the day.
I went back to the optometrist today expecting good news. Well in some senses, I did, as the wound is healed at 99%. Except that 1%, that lousy last 1%. Something wrong with that 1%---it wasn't healing fast enough; that 1% was at the periphery of my corneal flap. Maybe some epithelial cells have made their way past the flap from the initial injury, causing it to possibly be the start of an ingrowth. Possibly. Prognosis is good though, but it means I have to go elsewhere to get this checked out by someone more qualified than what we are having at the local hospital/clinic.
Except this somewhere is a good hour's drive away. In the US, this means at least 60 miles, or around 97 kilometres. 97 kilometres. Bye bye busy day.
And of course, I have tons of things that are due this week. Thankfully, I've gotten enough of them done, so I'm left with one major item to clear, not counting this cross-country doctor's visit. And now I have to coordinate with a kind soul who will take half the day off to drive me all the way out there and back.
This is starting to be a really costly (opportunity cost) incident...
I went back to the optometrist today expecting good news. Well in some senses, I did, as the wound is healed at 99%. Except that 1%, that lousy last 1%. Something wrong with that 1%---it wasn't healing fast enough; that 1% was at the periphery of my corneal flap. Maybe some epithelial cells have made their way past the flap from the initial injury, causing it to possibly be the start of an ingrowth. Possibly. Prognosis is good though, but it means I have to go elsewhere to get this checked out by someone more qualified than what we are having at the local hospital/clinic.
Except this somewhere is a good hour's drive away. In the US, this means at least 60 miles, or around 97 kilometres. 97 kilometres. Bye bye busy day.
And of course, I have tons of things that are due this week. Thankfully, I've gotten enough of them done, so I'm left with one major item to clear, not counting this cross-country doctor's visit. And now I have to coordinate with a kind soul who will take half the day off to drive me all the way out there and back.
This is starting to be a really costly (opportunity cost) incident...
Monday, October 03, 2011
Corneal Conundrum
Break my arm and I can still work with the other one, albeit slowly.
Break my leg and I just limp about, working mostly unimpaired, though I probably need to watch my weight from lack of activity.
But bust my eye and my spirit is broken, having neither the will nor the ability to actually see what I'm doing and thus get things done in a smooth fashion.
That last statement is basically how I have been feeling for the last fortnight---the inability to see clearly is always annoying and makes it really difficult to concentrate. Indeed, calling humans visual creatures is a most apt description.
It is not that my right corneal abrasion isn't healing; it is doing better each day compared to the last. It is the fact that it is healing too slowly relative to the norm that is making my attending optometrist worried. Such is the complication that comes with a general predisposition towards inflammation, and the fact that my cornea itself has undergone some structural changes via LASIK.
Do I regret having LASIK done then? No, I don't. It just isn't safe to be traipsing all around the world with an effective eyesight that required -15.00 dioptres of correction. I think the expensive take-home lesson here is that I should be careful with what kinds of sports that I am doing. A year of Aikido didn't increase the risk of anything happening to my eye---most of the stuff we do involves mostly the hands and twisting the body into interesting positions so as to throw someone. But Jujitsu, it's different; the take downs are many and highly varied. I should be more careful with this sport than I did with Aikido, since the integrity of my cornea has been breached twice by now, and we all know that structural integrity takes a long time to recover, particularly for something that begins as fragile as the cornea.
Anyway, that's all the time I have for random ranting. Maybe another post will be up on Friday or something... I don't know. Currently having to juggle too many things at once means that I have little to no time to myself to do reflections and other ``personal development'' things like writing journal entries or even stories or poems.
Break my leg and I just limp about, working mostly unimpaired, though I probably need to watch my weight from lack of activity.
But bust my eye and my spirit is broken, having neither the will nor the ability to actually see what I'm doing and thus get things done in a smooth fashion.
That last statement is basically how I have been feeling for the last fortnight---the inability to see clearly is always annoying and makes it really difficult to concentrate. Indeed, calling humans visual creatures is a most apt description.
It is not that my right corneal abrasion isn't healing; it is doing better each day compared to the last. It is the fact that it is healing too slowly relative to the norm that is making my attending optometrist worried. Such is the complication that comes with a general predisposition towards inflammation, and the fact that my cornea itself has undergone some structural changes via LASIK.
Do I regret having LASIK done then? No, I don't. It just isn't safe to be traipsing all around the world with an effective eyesight that required -15.00 dioptres of correction. I think the expensive take-home lesson here is that I should be careful with what kinds of sports that I am doing. A year of Aikido didn't increase the risk of anything happening to my eye---most of the stuff we do involves mostly the hands and twisting the body into interesting positions so as to throw someone. But Jujitsu, it's different; the take downs are many and highly varied. I should be more careful with this sport than I did with Aikido, since the integrity of my cornea has been breached twice by now, and we all know that structural integrity takes a long time to recover, particularly for something that begins as fragile as the cornea.
Anyway, that's all the time I have for random ranting. Maybe another post will be up on Friday or something... I don't know. Currently having to juggle too many things at once means that I have little to no time to myself to do reflections and other ``personal development'' things like writing journal entries or even stories or poems.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Musings on a Saturday
In the office/lab on a Saturday morning---not my kind of weekend morning, but it suffices given the situation that I'm in. I'm kind of delayed by a few days of work this week because I had to deal with the pressing issue of a right corneal abrasion that I think I sustained from a rather vigorous training session on Monday evening.
It's funny how one doesn't really care about something before anything bad happens, and then when some strange occurrence happens, one is suddenly made aware of body parts, medical histories and physiologies that we never really paid much attention to.
Suffice to say, this condition is currently under medical supervision, and all that I can do is really to wait it out and let my body do its thing about healing the abrasion over. The medication provided is mostly prophylactic in nature, and in some senses to improve the conditions in which the wound has to encourage healing. This of course includes the properties of the reduction of the inflammatory response (via steroid eyedrops), and a general relaxation of the ``twitch'' muscles (via mydriasis and cycloplegia inducing eyedrops). Of course this leaves my right eye in a somewhat ``zombified'' state where I cannot really use it to focus on anything of importance, and this includes reading as well as other important near vision work like looking at the computer screen. Thankfully, my left eye is still doing a superb job in keeping my overall eyesight serviceable, and I am really grateful for the general adaptability of my body in general.
So, what's new in my world? Well, for some reason I find myself thinking about how life would be like to have a couple of sons or daughters about, living with them, growing up with them, and generally experiencing the joys and pains of fatherhood. It's a funny type of warm and fuzzy feeling---I have no idea how to explain this, maybe real-life fathers will know what I'm trying to convey here. Anyway, this bout of emotions and wishful thinking came about when I read this article by Regina Brett (same person who wrote the 45/50 life lessons column). It does seem like one is missing out on a lot of things in life when one does not settle down with a child or two (or more!). Some time back, my parents did mention how they never regretted having us children, even though it meant that my mum had to stop work and take care of us full-time---they never regretted it even though we were trying at times, me particularly due to my general abnormality of having skin that reacted to everything with inflammations. They never regretted it. They never regretted it.
It makes me cry when I think about what they said.
I suppose as I get older, my perspective shifts away from what I can do to improve my personal self towards something a little more... humanising, if there's a term for that. Like the random team-building events that I had gone through with various people from different stages of life, they placed family above everything else, while silly l'il me was still thinking big thoughts about meeting great people and being great in general.
When I was young, I knew about mortality, but didn't really care much about it, since when one was fourteen for instance, dying was among the last things that would come to mind. But as I grow older and reaching my one-third mark of my expected natural lifespan, the reality of mortality is starting to hit me very soon. It is hard to accept that my parents are growing old---in my eyes, they never seemed to have aged since twenty odd years ago when I was first sentient. Yet now as each day passes, I fear for their eventual infirmity, I fear for their eventual mortality. And then it makes me sad to realise that I'm probably not spending much time with them now that I'm ``all grown up'' and have a life to lead on my own. Yet when I am with them, it is hard to say anything else other than what we might usually say each day; too macho or too repressed as a culture, perhaps?
I suppose it's becoming easier and easier to understand what pains our parents went through the older we get, and it is only after some time of being away and pondering about the past and the future that makes one realise how important it is to love them now when they are still here with us.
It's funny how one doesn't really care about something before anything bad happens, and then when some strange occurrence happens, one is suddenly made aware of body parts, medical histories and physiologies that we never really paid much attention to.
Suffice to say, this condition is currently under medical supervision, and all that I can do is really to wait it out and let my body do its thing about healing the abrasion over. The medication provided is mostly prophylactic in nature, and in some senses to improve the conditions in which the wound has to encourage healing. This of course includes the properties of the reduction of the inflammatory response (via steroid eyedrops), and a general relaxation of the ``twitch'' muscles (via mydriasis and cycloplegia inducing eyedrops). Of course this leaves my right eye in a somewhat ``zombified'' state where I cannot really use it to focus on anything of importance, and this includes reading as well as other important near vision work like looking at the computer screen. Thankfully, my left eye is still doing a superb job in keeping my overall eyesight serviceable, and I am really grateful for the general adaptability of my body in general.
So, what's new in my world? Well, for some reason I find myself thinking about how life would be like to have a couple of sons or daughters about, living with them, growing up with them, and generally experiencing the joys and pains of fatherhood. It's a funny type of warm and fuzzy feeling---I have no idea how to explain this, maybe real-life fathers will know what I'm trying to convey here. Anyway, this bout of emotions and wishful thinking came about when I read this article by Regina Brett (same person who wrote the 45/50 life lessons column). It does seem like one is missing out on a lot of things in life when one does not settle down with a child or two (or more!). Some time back, my parents did mention how they never regretted having us children, even though it meant that my mum had to stop work and take care of us full-time---they never regretted it even though we were trying at times, me particularly due to my general abnormality of having skin that reacted to everything with inflammations. They never regretted it. They never regretted it.
It makes me cry when I think about what they said.
I suppose as I get older, my perspective shifts away from what I can do to improve my personal self towards something a little more... humanising, if there's a term for that. Like the random team-building events that I had gone through with various people from different stages of life, they placed family above everything else, while silly l'il me was still thinking big thoughts about meeting great people and being great in general.
When I was young, I knew about mortality, but didn't really care much about it, since when one was fourteen for instance, dying was among the last things that would come to mind. But as I grow older and reaching my one-third mark of my expected natural lifespan, the reality of mortality is starting to hit me very soon. It is hard to accept that my parents are growing old---in my eyes, they never seemed to have aged since twenty odd years ago when I was first sentient. Yet now as each day passes, I fear for their eventual infirmity, I fear for their eventual mortality. And then it makes me sad to realise that I'm probably not spending much time with them now that I'm ``all grown up'' and have a life to lead on my own. Yet when I am with them, it is hard to say anything else other than what we might usually say each day; too macho or too repressed as a culture, perhaps?
I suppose it's becoming easier and easier to understand what pains our parents went through the older we get, and it is only after some time of being away and pondering about the past and the future that makes one realise how important it is to love them now when they are still here with us.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A Bicycle Built for... Me
While on the one hand I'm really glad to have gotten my driver's licence in Singapore, I'm still tardying a little with regards to getting the state licence in Illinois. Well, I technically still have around 60 days to get it, but that's not a major problem---it's not a problem at all. Driving is of course a most useful skill, but the maintenance and usage of the car is something that needs to be taken into consideration. Considering that Champaign-Urbana is very friendly to cycling in general, I have taken up cycling as my primary mode of transport.
So I got myself outfitted for a bicycle, a hybrid one specifically. A hybrid bicycle is a cross between the gripping power of the rugged mountain bicycle and the light-weighted speed of the road bicycle; a nice mix of the rough and the smooth, the kind of bicycle that is well suited for urban travel. The one thing that feels different riding in the US is that I need to signal with my left hand. That is a little unnerving and disorienting because I'm too used to steering with my left hand and signalling with my right---this switch of hands just takes a little getting used to. And I have now grown to love the fact that my bicycle has a mirror attached to it to look behind without having to turn all the way around, though I still look over my shoulder to check my blind spots should I have to filter left to turn left.
I'm going to build up my stamina and power to make my bicycle a most useful mode of transport, building up to the point that I can easily cover 50+km in a single day (roughly 25km out, and 25km back). I think that will help my overall goal of being stronger when I return.
Okay, enough of the cycling talk---sleeping time.
So I got myself outfitted for a bicycle, a hybrid one specifically. A hybrid bicycle is a cross between the gripping power of the rugged mountain bicycle and the light-weighted speed of the road bicycle; a nice mix of the rough and the smooth, the kind of bicycle that is well suited for urban travel. The one thing that feels different riding in the US is that I need to signal with my left hand. That is a little unnerving and disorienting because I'm too used to steering with my left hand and signalling with my right---this switch of hands just takes a little getting used to. And I have now grown to love the fact that my bicycle has a mirror attached to it to look behind without having to turn all the way around, though I still look over my shoulder to check my blind spots should I have to filter left to turn left.
I'm going to build up my stamina and power to make my bicycle a most useful mode of transport, building up to the point that I can easily cover 50+km in a single day (roughly 25km out, and 25km back). I think that will help my overall goal of being stronger when I return.
Okay, enough of the cycling talk---sleeping time.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Undoing Font Hiding in Windows
If you are on Windows 7, and after performing some update, suddenly realise that you cannot see any of your non-Latin characters in your applications when you once could, try this out. Use Win+F2 and type "C:\Windows\Fonts" and press enter. Under "Font settings", make sure that the option "Hide fonts based on language settings" is unchecked. Then, reboot. Things should work okay after that, if not well, erm, you're on your own.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Quick Evaluation
Phew, the first week of classes are finally done. I really wanted to write this entry a couple of days back, but somehow things always cropped up and I find myself having to abandon the various attempts on writing a decent entry here. Of course, I have Q10 handy for the ``just write'' type of writing that I seek, so this entry gets done that way.
The first thing that one notices when one is in graduate school is the notion that no one really gives a damn about what you do. No one gives a damn about what you do, be it your advisor, your fellow colleagues, or any one else. No one except yourself, of course. The curriculum is tailor-made for you, and you have to take charge (with the assistance of a committee of course) of what you want to/need to take in order to fulfill your academic course requirements. And then there is the whole issue of intellectual discovery---it is up to you and you alone to decide how you might want to run your research. Of course if you have a slightly more caring advisor, he/she will actually attempt to make sure that you do something along the way, but other than that, you are on your own. I sort of knew this was going to be the case prior to entering graduate school, but having witnessed it first hand makes the stories that I have heard more concrete and real.
Of course, this being the first week of the semester, things are progressing a little on the slow side, but things are not as slow as it seems. Okay, compared to CMU, things are sort of slow now (usually we would have the first round of homework assigned by the end of the week), but it is really hard to tell if this is going to be the pace that things will be running at; for all I know, this is merely the first week syndrome where things are deliberately released at a reduced pace just to ensure that any last-minute class enrolment won't lose out too much, though to be fair, it doesn't seem to be the culture here to have ``last-minute enrolments''---there doesn't seem to exist a wait list from which people can queue on while waiting to be enrolled into a class.
Living conditions-wise it has been pretty peaceful. My dorm space is really a one-room apartment on the southern outskirts of the main campus, so it tends to be much more tranquil here than say the residence halls where the undergraduates might be living in. There are of course pros and cons of this set up---it means that when I finally get myself completely at ease with this place, I will have an excellent distraction-free environment to get cracking, and not have to get into my office just to get work done. The main disadvantage is that because I live on the southern outskirts of the main campus, the daily commute to my office up in the computer science department building (Siebel Centre) can be pretty brutal. I have to take a bus up north every morning; the bus comes in 12-minute intervals between 0700hrs to 0800hrs, subsequently it runs on 20-minute intervals instead. It takes the bus around 13 to 17 minutes to arrive at the bus stop nearest to Siebel Centre, and from there, a 750-feet walk awaits me. For now, things are quite dandy because the weather is still conducive for walking, but I'm really not very sure how this is going to work out once winter sets in. And yes, I have switched to the imperial system (at least for distances) for now because the dimension of ``500 feet'' is a natural length for all the block distances that dot the landscape of the campus grounds.
The ``500 feet'' comment comes from the manner in which I have been navigating around the campus with---throughout the last fortnight or so I have been walking around with my Garmin eTrex GPS receiver in tow. It is pretty nifty the moment I got the Champaign-Urbana base map loaded into the device; by knowing which road intersections I have passed, and having a working memory of the local map made walking around campus relatively fuss-free. Considering the fact that I'm a graduate student who doesn't have the benefit of living in close quarters with other like-minded individuals, it is a really fast way to get the lay of the land on the back of my hand. I think I have geocaching to thank for this though---the months spent walking all over Singapore armed with nothing more than a GPS receiver and some local maps have indeed honed my geospatial reasoning skills, making navigation a much easier exercise than thought possible.
Anyway, not sure if I had said this in an earlier post (not checking only because I'm using Q10 to write up this entry), but the campus here feels very different. For one, since the department buildings are fairly far from each other, one is more likely to run into people in the same programme than anything else. This is different from CMU because, well, CMU's campus is so small that it is hard to not run into people from different schools. For two, because I keep running into the engineering/computer science folks, I do end up running into a lot of PRC students. It feels a little weird when one is in the US and end up hearing more mandarin spoken than english, but it is not something to be worried about I suppose; it is only when they start gathering in groups and being generally obnoxious that things start to get annoying, and even then that action is not limited to the PRC students alone. So far I've not managed to break into that little cocoon that many of them are stuck in, so I suppose I will have to take a little effort to make friends with some of them and see what things we can share and learn along the way.
Food here is still manageable---I have a full kitchen to work with. Well, almost full, since I have a refrigerator/freezer, an electric stove and oven, a saucepan and two different types of spatula. I just don't have enough of the other amenities required for cooking, like knives, cutting boards, flat plans, condiments and the like. And of course a microwave, the single most useful electrical appliance that one can have within an apartment, since it makes heating and reheating food stuffs that much easier. But all these things will have to come eventually when I start to see the need to actually cook, and when my allowance comes in; money is starting to get a little tight as I deal with the price of the text books that are needed for class and the overall need for survival through sustenance.
The bus system here is very good---there's at least one bus that will take one to anywhere that one might want to go on and off campus. More importantly, the bus system is quite efficient; there are different routes for the week day day time, week day evening and weekend. The routes are colour coded by the general service locations, and the numbers identify the route directly, with the weekend and evening versions having numbers ten times that of the usual week day day time ones. The general direction of the bus route is also encoded, so one can unambiguously state which bus it is they want to take, like the 120W Teal route or the 50E Green route. The buses also have an integrated system that tracks their movement, and the provided expected time of arrival at each bus stop is accurate to within five minutes, which is really useful. The buses are also handicap friendly since they can all ``kneel''---hydraulically lower the front of the bus so that the ramp can be deployed for those in need of them. All buses also have attached bicycle racks in front of them that can take up to two bicycles, which is a great thing to support cycling within the city. A pity that the Singapore transport system, in all its glory, don't even have such useful facilities without involving a lot of bureaucratic wrangling to get working. The bus schedule guide is also freely available on all buses, and that makes looking out for the various bus timings and locations that much easier for folks who don't have the Android phone application that polls the mass transit department's web site for such information.
So far I'm not really homesick yet, so I would think that things are going pretty smooth on my end. Many of my friends who live on the US east coast are terrified at the prospect of having to deal with Hurricane Irene that I do feel for their safely. Anyway, that's all I have for now, so till next time.
The first thing that one notices when one is in graduate school is the notion that no one really gives a damn about what you do. No one gives a damn about what you do, be it your advisor, your fellow colleagues, or any one else. No one except yourself, of course. The curriculum is tailor-made for you, and you have to take charge (with the assistance of a committee of course) of what you want to/need to take in order to fulfill your academic course requirements. And then there is the whole issue of intellectual discovery---it is up to you and you alone to decide how you might want to run your research. Of course if you have a slightly more caring advisor, he/she will actually attempt to make sure that you do something along the way, but other than that, you are on your own. I sort of knew this was going to be the case prior to entering graduate school, but having witnessed it first hand makes the stories that I have heard more concrete and real.
Of course, this being the first week of the semester, things are progressing a little on the slow side, but things are not as slow as it seems. Okay, compared to CMU, things are sort of slow now (usually we would have the first round of homework assigned by the end of the week), but it is really hard to tell if this is going to be the pace that things will be running at; for all I know, this is merely the first week syndrome where things are deliberately released at a reduced pace just to ensure that any last-minute class enrolment won't lose out too much, though to be fair, it doesn't seem to be the culture here to have ``last-minute enrolments''---there doesn't seem to exist a wait list from which people can queue on while waiting to be enrolled into a class.
Living conditions-wise it has been pretty peaceful. My dorm space is really a one-room apartment on the southern outskirts of the main campus, so it tends to be much more tranquil here than say the residence halls where the undergraduates might be living in. There are of course pros and cons of this set up---it means that when I finally get myself completely at ease with this place, I will have an excellent distraction-free environment to get cracking, and not have to get into my office just to get work done. The main disadvantage is that because I live on the southern outskirts of the main campus, the daily commute to my office up in the computer science department building (Siebel Centre) can be pretty brutal. I have to take a bus up north every morning; the bus comes in 12-minute intervals between 0700hrs to 0800hrs, subsequently it runs on 20-minute intervals instead. It takes the bus around 13 to 17 minutes to arrive at the bus stop nearest to Siebel Centre, and from there, a 750-feet walk awaits me. For now, things are quite dandy because the weather is still conducive for walking, but I'm really not very sure how this is going to work out once winter sets in. And yes, I have switched to the imperial system (at least for distances) for now because the dimension of ``500 feet'' is a natural length for all the block distances that dot the landscape of the campus grounds.
The ``500 feet'' comment comes from the manner in which I have been navigating around the campus with---throughout the last fortnight or so I have been walking around with my Garmin eTrex GPS receiver in tow. It is pretty nifty the moment I got the Champaign-Urbana base map loaded into the device; by knowing which road intersections I have passed, and having a working memory of the local map made walking around campus relatively fuss-free. Considering the fact that I'm a graduate student who doesn't have the benefit of living in close quarters with other like-minded individuals, it is a really fast way to get the lay of the land on the back of my hand. I think I have geocaching to thank for this though---the months spent walking all over Singapore armed with nothing more than a GPS receiver and some local maps have indeed honed my geospatial reasoning skills, making navigation a much easier exercise than thought possible.
Anyway, not sure if I had said this in an earlier post (not checking only because I'm using Q10 to write up this entry), but the campus here feels very different. For one, since the department buildings are fairly far from each other, one is more likely to run into people in the same programme than anything else. This is different from CMU because, well, CMU's campus is so small that it is hard to not run into people from different schools. For two, because I keep running into the engineering/computer science folks, I do end up running into a lot of PRC students. It feels a little weird when one is in the US and end up hearing more mandarin spoken than english, but it is not something to be worried about I suppose; it is only when they start gathering in groups and being generally obnoxious that things start to get annoying, and even then that action is not limited to the PRC students alone. So far I've not managed to break into that little cocoon that many of them are stuck in, so I suppose I will have to take a little effort to make friends with some of them and see what things we can share and learn along the way.
Food here is still manageable---I have a full kitchen to work with. Well, almost full, since I have a refrigerator/freezer, an electric stove and oven, a saucepan and two different types of spatula. I just don't have enough of the other amenities required for cooking, like knives, cutting boards, flat plans, condiments and the like. And of course a microwave, the single most useful electrical appliance that one can have within an apartment, since it makes heating and reheating food stuffs that much easier. But all these things will have to come eventually when I start to see the need to actually cook, and when my allowance comes in; money is starting to get a little tight as I deal with the price of the text books that are needed for class and the overall need for survival through sustenance.
The bus system here is very good---there's at least one bus that will take one to anywhere that one might want to go on and off campus. More importantly, the bus system is quite efficient; there are different routes for the week day day time, week day evening and weekend. The routes are colour coded by the general service locations, and the numbers identify the route directly, with the weekend and evening versions having numbers ten times that of the usual week day day time ones. The general direction of the bus route is also encoded, so one can unambiguously state which bus it is they want to take, like the 120W Teal route or the 50E Green route. The buses also have an integrated system that tracks their movement, and the provided expected time of arrival at each bus stop is accurate to within five minutes, which is really useful. The buses are also handicap friendly since they can all ``kneel''---hydraulically lower the front of the bus so that the ramp can be deployed for those in need of them. All buses also have attached bicycle racks in front of them that can take up to two bicycles, which is a great thing to support cycling within the city. A pity that the Singapore transport system, in all its glory, don't even have such useful facilities without involving a lot of bureaucratic wrangling to get working. The bus schedule guide is also freely available on all buses, and that makes looking out for the various bus timings and locations that much easier for folks who don't have the Android phone application that polls the mass transit department's web site for such information.
So far I'm not really homesick yet, so I would think that things are going pretty smooth on my end. Many of my friends who live on the US east coast are terrified at the prospect of having to deal with Hurricane Irene that I do feel for their safely. Anyway, that's all I have for now, so till next time.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
In UIUC
So, okay, while it may not be obvious at all here, I am actually in UIUC right now. That's right, my PhD journey has finally started officially, and I am now settling into my apartment and getting back the whole groove of studying once more. A PhD programme is different from that of the BSc---the whole purpose is to emerge from the programme being a much better researcher than what I once was, and to hone my skills in sniffing out and solving problems in acceptable manners. Class hasn't started yet, but I'm starting to feel the immense pressure upon myself. I think I'm mentally prepared for this, and given my current domicile location and office, I think it makes things easier to actually concentrate and get the work done.
So some people ask me here and there why did I want to go for a PhD programme instead of working my way up some corporate ladder and earning big bucks. I think the answer is simply that I like challenging myself. Yes, I'm a sucker for that kind of pain, and get easily bored by the mundane work that most people engage in. I may not have an overriding IQ, but I know that I can think up interesting and workable solutions when I put my mind to things. Of course, the flip side is that I need to work on the whole social aspect side of research and go around talking to people to learn more about what is going on, but that is a work in progress. I may not have what it takes to be a full-time academic in a university, but at the very least, I want to make that difference by contributing my know-how and ingenuity for the forces of good. Very idealistic, I know, but what is the world without some idealism? Besides, it's my neck on the line and not the rest of the people, so why should anyone else care?
Actually no one else cares, as a general rule of thumb. Those close to us might want to care, but there will come a point in time where the life paths have diverged so much that it becomes quite impossible to play catch up and care as much as one might want to. I suppose that's why people get into relationships with each other, each trying to find some middle ground with which they can share their need of love and to love with each other to unlock that hidden side of being human. I'm not gutsy enough to claim that I am past that stage now, but I think I'll manage without having this relationship business. Somehow the social side and the intellectual side grow at different rates, and there is always a time (and place) for everything. As a lady friend once said, men are like wine, for the older they get, the more desirable they become due to the appreciation of their value, whereas women just fade away as time goes by. Quite a sexist statement for sure, but I suppose that's how most of the world's population is wired up.
Ah, Champaign-Urbana. A lovely place even on the waning days of summer. My domicile is a pretty peaceful place: sheltered by trees, quiet neighbourhood, lovely chirping of the cicadas and crickets in the evening, the sound of children playing in the day time from the families that live in the same set of apartments as I. State university does have a much different perspective as compared to a private university (CMU is a private university)---the sense of anonymity is much higher, and due to that it is much easier to just get ``lost'' in the moment and not have to worry about people judging you or remembering what you had done. Of course, this also meant that the whole place is much bigger and really nasty for foot traversal (I clocked 18km of walking just to settle a few administrative procedures prior to getting my university ID which gave free bus rides), but I think eventually it will work out fine. I think what is important is to quickly get into the groove and hit the tarmac running.
Now, more so than ever, time is not on my side.
So some people ask me here and there why did I want to go for a PhD programme instead of working my way up some corporate ladder and earning big bucks. I think the answer is simply that I like challenging myself. Yes, I'm a sucker for that kind of pain, and get easily bored by the mundane work that most people engage in. I may not have an overriding IQ, but I know that I can think up interesting and workable solutions when I put my mind to things. Of course, the flip side is that I need to work on the whole social aspect side of research and go around talking to people to learn more about what is going on, but that is a work in progress. I may not have what it takes to be a full-time academic in a university, but at the very least, I want to make that difference by contributing my know-how and ingenuity for the forces of good. Very idealistic, I know, but what is the world without some idealism? Besides, it's my neck on the line and not the rest of the people, so why should anyone else care?
Actually no one else cares, as a general rule of thumb. Those close to us might want to care, but there will come a point in time where the life paths have diverged so much that it becomes quite impossible to play catch up and care as much as one might want to. I suppose that's why people get into relationships with each other, each trying to find some middle ground with which they can share their need of love and to love with each other to unlock that hidden side of being human. I'm not gutsy enough to claim that I am past that stage now, but I think I'll manage without having this relationship business. Somehow the social side and the intellectual side grow at different rates, and there is always a time (and place) for everything. As a lady friend once said, men are like wine, for the older they get, the more desirable they become due to the appreciation of their value, whereas women just fade away as time goes by. Quite a sexist statement for sure, but I suppose that's how most of the world's population is wired up.
Ah, Champaign-Urbana. A lovely place even on the waning days of summer. My domicile is a pretty peaceful place: sheltered by trees, quiet neighbourhood, lovely chirping of the cicadas and crickets in the evening, the sound of children playing in the day time from the families that live in the same set of apartments as I. State university does have a much different perspective as compared to a private university (CMU is a private university)---the sense of anonymity is much higher, and due to that it is much easier to just get ``lost'' in the moment and not have to worry about people judging you or remembering what you had done. Of course, this also meant that the whole place is much bigger and really nasty for foot traversal (I clocked 18km of walking just to settle a few administrative procedures prior to getting my university ID which gave free bus rides), but I think eventually it will work out fine. I think what is important is to quickly get into the groove and hit the tarmac running.
Now, more so than ever, time is not on my side.
30 Days of Driving
Ah driving. It is a very liberating feeling to finally have the license to operate a motor vehicle. Having had my license about a month ago, I took the opportunity to rent a car for about a month to drive around and get used to the road experience. And this entry chronicles the sights, sounds and experiences that I had from that little foray.
Driving in Singapore is a rather mixed bag of emotions; more often than not, the primary dominating emotion is that of anger. That's right, it is anger; not mine, but that of the other drivers. Armed with probational plates as a part of the law regarding newly minted qualified driver license holders, it simultaneously becomes a safe way of indicating the inexperience of the driver as well as an invitation for the more aggressive drivers to ``bully'' the new driver through intimidation techniques. I wasn't really fazed by their intimidation attempts, though it is rather unnerving when an aggressive driver keeps tailgating the car that I was driving. The speed limits of the roads were not something that most people seem to adhere to---each time I was travelling at the speed limit, every other car seems to just speed off in front of me, with excess speeds ranging from 10km/h or more. In fact, many drivers who wre following behind my car got so frustrated that I wasn't busting the speed limit that they ended up tailgating me for a while before dodging off to the left or right in an attempt to overtake me.
Drivers aside, the roads of Singapore are not very forgiving either. Granted that there are few tricky intersections to worry about, there are still many oddities of the roads that make driving a less-than-desirable experience. Extreme heavy traffic is one classic example of this. The arterial roads of Singapore are often full of traffic during the peak hours, and the mean speed of such roads drop from the standard of 70km/h to something along the lines of 40km/h, assuming that it is merely a heavy traffic condition and not some traffic jam, in which case the mean speed can fall to as low as 20km/h, uphill.
But I suppose that the best way to go about driving in Singapore is to be really comfortable with oneself and to understand that not all drivers are law-abiding---the most important thing about driving is to avoid causing or being in an accident, and I suppose that if that is met, it will guarantee one's survival on the road. Of course the law just provides a more stringent measure of what safety means, and more often than not, it is a good idea to follow it. But of course one needs to be flexible and adapt to the circumstance.
Driving in Singapore is a rather mixed bag of emotions; more often than not, the primary dominating emotion is that of anger. That's right, it is anger; not mine, but that of the other drivers. Armed with probational plates as a part of the law regarding newly minted qualified driver license holders, it simultaneously becomes a safe way of indicating the inexperience of the driver as well as an invitation for the more aggressive drivers to ``bully'' the new driver through intimidation techniques. I wasn't really fazed by their intimidation attempts, though it is rather unnerving when an aggressive driver keeps tailgating the car that I was driving. The speed limits of the roads were not something that most people seem to adhere to---each time I was travelling at the speed limit, every other car seems to just speed off in front of me, with excess speeds ranging from 10km/h or more. In fact, many drivers who wre following behind my car got so frustrated that I wasn't busting the speed limit that they ended up tailgating me for a while before dodging off to the left or right in an attempt to overtake me.
Drivers aside, the roads of Singapore are not very forgiving either. Granted that there are few tricky intersections to worry about, there are still many oddities of the roads that make driving a less-than-desirable experience. Extreme heavy traffic is one classic example of this. The arterial roads of Singapore are often full of traffic during the peak hours, and the mean speed of such roads drop from the standard of 70km/h to something along the lines of 40km/h, assuming that it is merely a heavy traffic condition and not some traffic jam, in which case the mean speed can fall to as low as 20km/h, uphill.
But I suppose that the best way to go about driving in Singapore is to be really comfortable with oneself and to understand that not all drivers are law-abiding---the most important thing about driving is to avoid causing or being in an accident, and I suppose that if that is met, it will guarantee one's survival on the road. Of course the law just provides a more stringent measure of what safety means, and more often than not, it is a good idea to follow it. But of course one needs to be flexible and adapt to the circumstance.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
SMS Musing #6
Earlier on Saturday, while waiting for some friends for geocaching:
The mere fact that there are multiple entries under this SMS musings tag should be an indication that I'm spending a lot of time waiting for people to arrive. What I mean is that the only reason why I write these entries is merely to pass the time a little faster during the wait, so that I don't get too bored to the point that I start to think too much nonsense.
Anyway, another day and I'll be flying. But an all nighter awaits me as I scramble to finish up that draft before I head off into the sunset. Flying off this time feels more serene than the last---it might be that I sort of know what to expect? But in spite of it all, there's still that little uncertainty over various things that are out of my direct control; I suppose I just need to hang in there and see what happens. As they say, it ain't the end till it is the end, and the end ain't here yet. The small setbacks just turn me ever stronger by helping me realise that one needs a certain level of thick-skinnedness to live well in the world.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
SMS Musing #5
While waiting outside a building...
Sometimes one cannot help but feel helpless in the face of things, especially when it all seems ready to overwhelm oneself. There is just too many variables that we have no control over, yet somehow life must still go on. Even the few things that we seemingly have control over turns out to be mostly a sham. If all of us do not really have true power over our destinies, then what is it that moves everything forward?
Illusionary they may be, I suppose there is still some truth amid all the lies. We probably have more power over our destiny than we realise, though much less than what we would have liked. Perhaps that is what life truly is about---to discover just how far our control is over our destiny. Maybe this can explain away all that we are seeing.
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
SMS Musing #4
While at Zirca earlier today for an exhibition:
It is kinda strange to be sitting on the top floor of a club and penning this down as a heavy beat is going on from the dance floor below. I suppose it would be a little odd to claim that the music is putting me to sleep, but it is true. The only reason I'm even still awake is all thanks to ConnectBot on the Android, which allows me to connect via SSH to other boxes that have things to keep me occupied.I suppose there ought to be a limit on how long an ``SMS Musing'' counts as its namesake.
But then again, the whole club scene is something that I don't really dig into; I'm not into the whole shallow social thing that dominates this whole scene. But of course the question to ask is, why am I even here in the first place? Mostly as a support role for one of my sister's exhibits at the exhibition, and that's about it. I seriously doubt if anyone cares though, since I've pretty much ended up sitting up here on my own. More than 2 years since I've come out of my shell and I'm still sitting om the sidelines: what a great ``progress'' there.
Anyway, it is fast reaching the time for me to make a sneaky getaway, the only type of exit I'm willing to put up with---not a fan of being a centre of attraction. Makes me wonder how the hell I can square this with my kob requirements of establishing reputation and street cred.
This is getting a little too long for an SMS Musing, so I'm going to stop here now and make my getaway.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
SMS Musing #3
While waiting at the carpark of Venus Drive prior to a MacRitchie Reservoir Park hike/geocaching trip:
At the risk of jinxing myself, what was supposed to be an easy 25-minute drive became an hour of horror as I kept making one wrong turn after another to the point that it was fucktardly stupid. How the blazes did I screw up so badly in spite of having read the gorram map multiple times? I think I have sunk to a new low this time. This is really so stupid---I've just wasted everyone's precious time. I feel like a failure now.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Funereal #1
I'm starting a new series of articles labelled ``funereal''. It sounds morbid, but really it is one of those ``start with the end goal in sight'' kind of things. Each time an article is tagged with the ``funereal'' tag, it represents my vision of what happens at my funeral at that point in time. Might prove to be an interesting psychological experiment.
Ahem.
Ahem.
There was muted silence all about as the candles flickered in the night time breeze. I lie dead in that coffin out in the centre of the funeral parlour, surrounded by strangers. It's a hush-hush affair; there was no priest nor reverend nor any religious figure officiating the austere setting---I had lived my life with a much stronger belief towards empirical science than religious followings. Of course there would be no one else there that I know; I have broke contact with most of them a long long time ago, once they all started to get married and have children and thus need to care more about their families than some crockety old man who was still clinging on to the old ideals of geekiness.
The grandfather clock chimed and there was a rustling sound as the pallbearers shifted my coffin towards the cremation chamber. The strangers present muttered their own words of farewell to a man they hardly knew as my coffin enters the hop into the chamber itself. Within a few short minutes, I made it into the furnace and was cremated into an urnful of fine white ash.
As per my instructions, they took my urn of ashes and brought it out to sea, commending my remains forever into the ocean, to travel around the world in the ocean currents and to seek knowledge wherever I may be.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
SMS Musing #2
While on the train, I just had that inclination to write something that occurred recently, and so here it is:
You would think that by now I would be used to the whole idea of going it alone, but I suppose I'm still human after all. These few days I have been interacting with one too many couples and it has a somewhat negative effect on me. I find myself a tad more anxious than usual, and somewhat more importantly, seemingly losing my ability to stay calm. I think I need to get back into the groove of not giving too much of a damn; must remember that when people are in a relationship, it has nothing to do with me, even if they choose to act all lovey dovey in front of me. That's the least that I can do for myself to do myself justice and avoid all these strange emotions. At the end of the day, those couples only have eyes for each other and don't really care about the people around them, no matter how close they are in friendship.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Tired?
Funny how things end up. Here I am about to embark on another leg of my life's journey, and instead of feeling excited, I feel tired.
Tired! For goodness sake, why am I feeling tired? This makes as much sense as the cow that refuses to eat grass, or the eagle that doesn't fly, or... well you get the idea.
Maybe it's the cubicle I'm in. It's too restrictive, too cramped. Or it could be the office environment, or that I don't really see a plausible and clear-cut shifting of one phase to the next---everything is an amorphous blob of blobbiness. Mostly likely the latter. I mean, even till now, nearly three days before I am at my last day, I'm still working on projects.
Maybe I'm no longer that great a workaholic as I think myself out to be. Perhaps that's a good thing.
I mean, I am liking the outdoors now. How much more strange/weird can it get?
Till the next rant.
Tired! For goodness sake, why am I feeling tired? This makes as much sense as the cow that refuses to eat grass, or the eagle that doesn't fly, or... well you get the idea.
Maybe it's the cubicle I'm in. It's too restrictive, too cramped. Or it could be the office environment, or that I don't really see a plausible and clear-cut shifting of one phase to the next---everything is an amorphous blob of blobbiness. Mostly likely the latter. I mean, even till now, nearly three days before I am at my last day, I'm still working on projects.
Maybe I'm no longer that great a workaholic as I think myself out to be. Perhaps that's a good thing.
I mean, I am liking the outdoors now. How much more strange/weird can it get?
Till the next rant.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Nivlek Conversation
Once more I find myself writing yet another blog entry on a late night session. There is clearly something different about the night as compared to the day that makes updating my own blog a little more intimate, even though I don't really do much editing in either case. But as usual, I digress a little.
I think that one thing that I'm starting to get used to is the flux of life. Life is non-static and full of twists and turns, some completely deterministic, while others completely unexpected. Slowly I find that the people I used to trust implicitly have now ``fallen off'' the trust model, while there are those whom I used to not trust have slowly entered into the hallowed ``inner circle''. But of course, the said ``inner circle'' itself has changed its nature by quite a fair bit, considering that I am mostly reclusive now, engaging people at the most superficial level that is required to maintain something that is meaningful yet at times impersonal enough.
It's not that I don't like to confide in people---it's just that sometimes such opportunities do not present themselves readily. It is much easier to find such people when one is younger, since the whole notion of political manipulation is something that is quite rare at that age group that finding someone willing to listen to and discuss one's problems makes as much sense as saying the sun rises from the East. But as time goes by, it becomes painfully obvious that such burden-free associations are far and few; the only group of people where this might still hold when one is of adulthood is likely to be that of the immediate family, with spouses falling in the gray area depending on the general state of the relationship.
Speaking of spouses and confidantes, I had a recent meet up with Nivlek and we had a helluva good time talking about the ``good old days'' (they were old, but they ain't good), the happenings now, and some future stuff. And I think we come to one simple conclusion about the whole get-a-girlfriend/wife-thing: people are taking things a little too seriously. Actually, I believe we are being nice, what we probably meant was that many people who are in relationships seem to fall a trap involving emotional abuse and manipulation. The idea of ``hen-peckedness'' and that somehow the woman being the lead in the relationship at around the time that marriage is considered somehow sounds completely wrong to me---it's a marriage for crying out loud, not a slavery bondage! Why do many women think that they are superior enough that their word is ``final'' when it comes to life after marriage? Isn't a marriage supposed to be a partnership where people be like true thinking adults and do things in ways that make the both of them happy and yet still have the desired outcome? Why then does marriage make things look so glum, like as though being married is some kind of restrictive burden?
Speaking of marriage and relationships I think I'm entering a new phase in my life. Back when I was younger, I find that I could not relate to my peers just because they were talking about things that didn't interest me enough, things that involve fashion, memes and other stylish things. I preferred talking to people who were older than me, simply because they had a more interesting and varied view on what life is, and can often discuss current affairs in ways that are more informative than whatever the press provides through their own analysis. But now, I'm starting to find it easier to talk to the younger folk instead of those older than me. I mean, I don't outright hate to talk to anyone older, but I've probably listened to their talk on getting married, buying their first flat, giving birth to their child and other really random talk of that nature one too many times to actually find it interesting. Yes, congratulations on reaching your next milestone, but that's just your own ``achievement''---pity the poor souls who have to listen to you gush about something that makes little sense to the young singles surrounding you. At least I can still get more decent conversations with the young'uns---I may not like some of their attitude, but among the black sheep there are still the few lily-white ones who give the whole generation a slightly better name, and those are the ones whom I genuinely enjoy the time we spent talking.
Change does not seem to faze me much anymore; I'm not sure if I had said it in any of the more recent posts, but it is a point that is worth repeating. I think this is a good attitude towards life, and gives me enough forward momentum to hurdle past obstacles that may stand in my way.
And on that note, I end this entry for the day.
I think that one thing that I'm starting to get used to is the flux of life. Life is non-static and full of twists and turns, some completely deterministic, while others completely unexpected. Slowly I find that the people I used to trust implicitly have now ``fallen off'' the trust model, while there are those whom I used to not trust have slowly entered into the hallowed ``inner circle''. But of course, the said ``inner circle'' itself has changed its nature by quite a fair bit, considering that I am mostly reclusive now, engaging people at the most superficial level that is required to maintain something that is meaningful yet at times impersonal enough.
It's not that I don't like to confide in people---it's just that sometimes such opportunities do not present themselves readily. It is much easier to find such people when one is younger, since the whole notion of political manipulation is something that is quite rare at that age group that finding someone willing to listen to and discuss one's problems makes as much sense as saying the sun rises from the East. But as time goes by, it becomes painfully obvious that such burden-free associations are far and few; the only group of people where this might still hold when one is of adulthood is likely to be that of the immediate family, with spouses falling in the gray area depending on the general state of the relationship.
Speaking of spouses and confidantes, I had a recent meet up with Nivlek and we had a helluva good time talking about the ``good old days'' (they were old, but they ain't good), the happenings now, and some future stuff. And I think we come to one simple conclusion about the whole get-a-girlfriend/wife-thing: people are taking things a little too seriously. Actually, I believe we are being nice, what we probably meant was that many people who are in relationships seem to fall a trap involving emotional abuse and manipulation. The idea of ``hen-peckedness'' and that somehow the woman being the lead in the relationship at around the time that marriage is considered somehow sounds completely wrong to me---it's a marriage for crying out loud, not a slavery bondage! Why do many women think that they are superior enough that their word is ``final'' when it comes to life after marriage? Isn't a marriage supposed to be a partnership where people be like true thinking adults and do things in ways that make the both of them happy and yet still have the desired outcome? Why then does marriage make things look so glum, like as though being married is some kind of restrictive burden?
Speaking of marriage and relationships I think I'm entering a new phase in my life. Back when I was younger, I find that I could not relate to my peers just because they were talking about things that didn't interest me enough, things that involve fashion, memes and other stylish things. I preferred talking to people who were older than me, simply because they had a more interesting and varied view on what life is, and can often discuss current affairs in ways that are more informative than whatever the press provides through their own analysis. But now, I'm starting to find it easier to talk to the younger folk instead of those older than me. I mean, I don't outright hate to talk to anyone older, but I've probably listened to their talk on getting married, buying their first flat, giving birth to their child and other really random talk of that nature one too many times to actually find it interesting. Yes, congratulations on reaching your next milestone, but that's just your own ``achievement''---pity the poor souls who have to listen to you gush about something that makes little sense to the young singles surrounding you. At least I can still get more decent conversations with the young'uns---I may not like some of their attitude, but among the black sheep there are still the few lily-white ones who give the whole generation a slightly better name, and those are the ones whom I genuinely enjoy the time we spent talking.
Change does not seem to faze me much anymore; I'm not sure if I had said it in any of the more recent posts, but it is a point that is worth repeating. I think this is a good attitude towards life, and gives me enough forward momentum to hurdle past obstacles that may stand in my way.
And on that note, I end this entry for the day.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Pondering About Life Once More
What if today you stopped and attempted to validate that your life was indeed worth living. What kind of conclusions would you draw?
So up to this point, I think that life for me, in general, has been worth living. At the very least, I can claim that I have loved and was loved, possess some non-trivial talents, and have a decent looking future-that-is-not-über-boring---pretty good deal, really. But of course, there are times where things seem to be at a natural low, where self-doubt comes in and makes things surprisingly difficult to accept and deal with.
I suppose that most people have their own unique take on life; that's what makes each of us different from each other. We might be in the general locality at some point with others, but what each person takes away from the scene in memory is often much different from everyone else in spite of having the same observations. There are some types of people that reinforce our positive self-image through interaction, and then there are those who are absolute downers. I think when Regina wrote her list of ``rules'' for life, she was bearing this in mind as a motivation for people.
I think I'm much more reticent nowadays as compared to the past. Much has changed over the last two years, and I think I have adapted to the changes in as best a way as I can. So far, no signs of self-deprecating self-worth issues are seen at levels that demand closer attention, but I'm still wary of myself spiralling out of control when the going gets tough. Maybe reticence is a good thing for me---it keeps my motor-mouth in check and saves me the effort of trying to conform, letting others come up with their own colourful ideas of who I might be in a way similar to an extended Rorschach Test.
Or it could be that I'm more isolated that reticence is fast becoming the norm for me. While I'm still not completely sociopathic, my empathy towards people in general are diminishing over time---more often than not I just don't feel the need to feel anything for many of the people Isee. While I do not treat people in a malicious way, I do not actively try to help them either, in stark contrast with the me of old who would sillily allow myself to take the hurt just to keep others safe. I'm no magnanimous fool now: while there are universal laws about the equality of people, but there is an overriding concept of the self that needs satiation.
m3h, I don't really have a clue what I'm trying to drive at on this midweek night. Suffice to say, whatever I had probably wanted to talk about have appeared by now, and it is with this pensieve and confused mood that I will leave you, the reader, behind till next time.
So up to this point, I think that life for me, in general, has been worth living. At the very least, I can claim that I have loved and was loved, possess some non-trivial talents, and have a decent looking future-that-is-not-über-boring---pretty good deal, really. But of course, there are times where things seem to be at a natural low, where self-doubt comes in and makes things surprisingly difficult to accept and deal with.
I suppose that most people have their own unique take on life; that's what makes each of us different from each other. We might be in the general locality at some point with others, but what each person takes away from the scene in memory is often much different from everyone else in spite of having the same observations. There are some types of people that reinforce our positive self-image through interaction, and then there are those who are absolute downers. I think when Regina wrote her list of ``rules'' for life, she was bearing this in mind as a motivation for people.
I think I'm much more reticent nowadays as compared to the past. Much has changed over the last two years, and I think I have adapted to the changes in as best a way as I can. So far, no signs of self-deprecating self-worth issues are seen at levels that demand closer attention, but I'm still wary of myself spiralling out of control when the going gets tough. Maybe reticence is a good thing for me---it keeps my motor-mouth in check and saves me the effort of trying to conform, letting others come up with their own colourful ideas of who I might be in a way similar to an extended Rorschach Test.
Or it could be that I'm more isolated that reticence is fast becoming the norm for me. While I'm still not completely sociopathic, my empathy towards people in general are diminishing over time---more often than not I just don't feel the need to feel anything for many of the people Isee. While I do not treat people in a malicious way, I do not actively try to help them either, in stark contrast with the me of old who would sillily allow myself to take the hurt just to keep others safe. I'm no magnanimous fool now: while there are universal laws about the equality of people, but there is an overriding concept of the self that needs satiation.
m3h, I don't really have a clue what I'm trying to drive at on this midweek night. Suffice to say, whatever I had probably wanted to talk about have appeared by now, and it is with this pensieve and confused mood that I will leave you, the reader, behind till next time.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Fast Times Mon...
Man, what a week. You know that you are having the time of your life when you start to lose track of how time flies. And of course, by what I said, I don't mean just the fun stuff---I do mean the work stuff too.
Previous Saturday was grand, I went out with a couple of fellow geocachers to do a few geocaches in the middle of the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve region. Man, that one was a blast, since the cache hides were well executed, and the places that we went to were really quite extraordinary in many ways. There was a thunderstorm that raged on at one point, but we took shelter at one of the many huts. It was quite safe in spite of the fact that one lightning/thunder struck really close to the hut itself.
Work was quite gruelling yet comfortable in some strange sense; there is a feeling of forward progress, and with some additional advice here and there from various people, I'm starting to be in control once more.
Then of course, there was Friday, the first Friday where I begin to clear all my leave. The morning was spent at the US Embassy for the visa application, while the evening was for rock climbing at SAFRA Yishun. I think I like the idea of rock climbing and the ``simpler version'' of bouldering. Yes, my forearms were pretty sore once I was done with the place, but from the beginning to the end, I found my climbing strategy evolve from ``where's the next hand hold?'' to ``hmm, I need to go right to avoid that jutting region''. Somehow rock climbing really makes you think about the choices that you want to make and balance it against what you are physically capable of i.e. you might want to vault over that ledge, but you just don't have enough strength to bring yourself to it. According to some of the better climbers (those with prior experience), it is more about technique than raw strength, which makes the whole sport a finesse-type one, something that I can live with, probably.
Saturday was a mad scramble doing the waypoints for a particular multi-cache, and I think I did fine in spite of all the other physical activities that I had taken part in. I think my physical condition is much better now than two years ago when I first returned from the US.
So anyway, as I was saying earlier, you know that you are having the time of your life when time passes really quickly, for as common sense says that when you are doing something you love, time feels really short but when you are doing something you hate, it takes an eternity. I think I'm glad that I have managed to find pleasure in the things that I am doing now and in the future---it does have a positive impact on myself whenever I think of it in this way.
Alright, enough rambling, till the next update. Hopefully I have something more... philosophical to talk about the next time as opposed to the sordid details of my life (which I'm sure is why people read this blog anyway).
Previous Saturday was grand, I went out with a couple of fellow geocachers to do a few geocaches in the middle of the Bukit Timah Nature Reserve region. Man, that one was a blast, since the cache hides were well executed, and the places that we went to were really quite extraordinary in many ways. There was a thunderstorm that raged on at one point, but we took shelter at one of the many huts. It was quite safe in spite of the fact that one lightning/thunder struck really close to the hut itself.
Work was quite gruelling yet comfortable in some strange sense; there is a feeling of forward progress, and with some additional advice here and there from various people, I'm starting to be in control once more.
Then of course, there was Friday, the first Friday where I begin to clear all my leave. The morning was spent at the US Embassy for the visa application, while the evening was for rock climbing at SAFRA Yishun. I think I like the idea of rock climbing and the ``simpler version'' of bouldering. Yes, my forearms were pretty sore once I was done with the place, but from the beginning to the end, I found my climbing strategy evolve from ``where's the next hand hold?'' to ``hmm, I need to go right to avoid that jutting region''. Somehow rock climbing really makes you think about the choices that you want to make and balance it against what you are physically capable of i.e. you might want to vault over that ledge, but you just don't have enough strength to bring yourself to it. According to some of the better climbers (those with prior experience), it is more about technique than raw strength, which makes the whole sport a finesse-type one, something that I can live with, probably.
Saturday was a mad scramble doing the waypoints for a particular multi-cache, and I think I did fine in spite of all the other physical activities that I had taken part in. I think my physical condition is much better now than two years ago when I first returned from the US.
So anyway, as I was saying earlier, you know that you are having the time of your life when time passes really quickly, for as common sense says that when you are doing something you love, time feels really short but when you are doing something you hate, it takes an eternity. I think I'm glad that I have managed to find pleasure in the things that I am doing now and in the future---it does have a positive impact on myself whenever I think of it in this way.
Alright, enough rambling, till the next update. Hopefully I have something more... philosophical to talk about the next time as opposed to the sordid details of my life (which I'm sure is why people read this blog anyway).
Saturday, June 04, 2011
Musings on a Saturday Night
Well, well, well, it is a Saturday night, and it's just me and Mr JD here chillaxin' in the summer heat.
*takes a sip*
Some might say that it is a terrible day to be drinking any form of hard liquor, but I'm known to make some rather irrational decisions from time to time as part of filling up my quota of ``erring to be human''.
*takes another sip*
On the way home today, I realised a sad truth---I can't actually will myself to cry. It just doesn't work; I get to within a hair's breadth of tearing up, but it stops short there, whether or not I'm listening to sappy lost-love music.
*takes another sip*
Too macho maybe? Who knows? But I suppose that I don't really have a good reason to need to cry; hell, even when I broke my bone those couple of times, even when I had that excruciating pain, all I did was to wince a little and then get up through force of will.
The only times I ever cried where when my grandma was incinerated after death and when some chick had broken up with me.
*takes another sip*
So maybe crying is not the way for me to relieve stress. That's a relief, in some ways---heheheh at least it asserts that I'm still ``macho'' enough. And no, I'm no ``Massive Compact Halo Object'', since I'm still mostly matter the last I checked.
*takes another sip*
I'm kinda going easy on the JD this time round, ever since that little experiment of the Ya Kun coffee went astray. It's probably a shot of JD on the rocks... I know, I know. I don't usually drink hard liquor on the rocks, but tonight's a special occasion to you know, not get too ridiculous from my relative sensitivity to both alcohol and caffeine due to reduction in use.
*takes another sip*
And yes, this is yet another one of those free-form auto-writing experiments ``live''. Yes, when I say that I took another sip, I meant that I had taken another sip of JD indeed. Talk about redudancy.
*takes another sip*
M3h. It's starting to taste like molten ice (it sounds hotter than it is, but trust me, molten ice is just water... really cold water). No need for strong fire tonight---I have the summer heat to thank for that. So I'm just asking for a light buzz of some sort to help me relax a little.
*crunches the ice with teeth*
Yep, that's the last of whatever was in my glass. And this post too, it seems.
*takes a sip*
Some might say that it is a terrible day to be drinking any form of hard liquor, but I'm known to make some rather irrational decisions from time to time as part of filling up my quota of ``erring to be human''.
*takes another sip*
On the way home today, I realised a sad truth---I can't actually will myself to cry. It just doesn't work; I get to within a hair's breadth of tearing up, but it stops short there, whether or not I'm listening to sappy lost-love music.
*takes another sip*
Too macho maybe? Who knows? But I suppose that I don't really have a good reason to need to cry; hell, even when I broke my bone those couple of times, even when I had that excruciating pain, all I did was to wince a little and then get up through force of will.
The only times I ever cried where when my grandma was incinerated after death and when some chick had broken up with me.
*takes another sip*
So maybe crying is not the way for me to relieve stress. That's a relief, in some ways---heheheh at least it asserts that I'm still ``macho'' enough. And no, I'm no ``Massive Compact Halo Object'', since I'm still mostly matter the last I checked.
*takes another sip*
I'm kinda going easy on the JD this time round, ever since that little experiment of the Ya Kun coffee went astray. It's probably a shot of JD on the rocks... I know, I know. I don't usually drink hard liquor on the rocks, but tonight's a special occasion to you know, not get too ridiculous from my relative sensitivity to both alcohol and caffeine due to reduction in use.
*takes another sip*
And yes, this is yet another one of those free-form auto-writing experiments ``live''. Yes, when I say that I took another sip, I meant that I had taken another sip of JD indeed. Talk about redudancy.
*takes another sip*
M3h. It's starting to taste like molten ice (it sounds hotter than it is, but trust me, molten ice is just water... really cold water). No need for strong fire tonight---I have the summer heat to thank for that. So I'm just asking for a light buzz of some sort to help me relax a little.
*crunches the ice with teeth*
Yep, that's the last of whatever was in my glass. And this post too, it seems.
Friday, June 03, 2011
Don't Invite Me To Any More Social Networks
You know something? It is really strange that people who don't talk to you for long periods of time are still somehow keeping track of you, if only in a cursory manner. But what annoys me the most is that these people will still happily click on that spammy ``invite all your friends'' link to add me to their social network.
Eh, why the hell do you add someone to your ``social network'' when you have not interacted with that person ``socially'' in a damn long time? Doesn't the whole concept of ``we are not talking with each other'' mean anything to you? Can't you just leave me the hell alone by not clicking on that spammy button to add me to what is effectively your bragging board?
Anyway, truth be told---I am really not into the whole social network thing. The only reason I even have a damn facebook account is because the current breed of people whom I have to work/play/live with don't seem to understand the concept of using email and want to do everything (from planning to wrap up) on facebook. Already I am a social misfit who partakes in little of the whole ``social life'' phenomena; if I still stay away from this facebook nonsense, I think I'd be in worser shape.
If facebook went belly up tomorrow morning, I wouldn't even drop a tear. It was, has been, and will be a meaningless thing to me.
By extension, I hate all the other social network sites, whether under the guise of it being ``for professionals only'' or not. If folks can recall, facebook used to be a ``for college students only'' thing---that was one of the main reasons that I convinced myself to sign up for an account on it to keep abreast of things that are happening on and around campus. But then it opened up to the rabblement and see what happens now.
I think I'm starting to sound like a grumpy old man now. Heheh.
------
It doesn't take an Einstein to realise that I'm starting to write new entries here on a slightly higher frequency. Yes, it is usually a sign that things are not going well in real life, but that aside, I think that being segregated from people everywhere has a strange way of making me want to write more. Writing is fun; writing is therapeutic. Writing has a way of allowing me to just sit there in an easy chair, and just hack away without a care in the world. But of course, writing because things are not going well is just different from writing fiction---between the two, I think I'm a little better at the former than the latter, since I don't usually have the wherewithal to actually start on any new pieces of fiction (read as: I don't have many stories I feel compelled to tell).
Anyway, it is obvious that I'm just deviating from the main topic of today's bitching. So, till the next time.
Eh, why the hell do you add someone to your ``social network'' when you have not interacted with that person ``socially'' in a damn long time? Doesn't the whole concept of ``we are not talking with each other'' mean anything to you? Can't you just leave me the hell alone by not clicking on that spammy button to add me to what is effectively your bragging board?
Anyway, truth be told---I am really not into the whole social network thing. The only reason I even have a damn facebook account is because the current breed of people whom I have to work/play/live with don't seem to understand the concept of using email and want to do everything (from planning to wrap up) on facebook. Already I am a social misfit who partakes in little of the whole ``social life'' phenomena; if I still stay away from this facebook nonsense, I think I'd be in worser shape.
If facebook went belly up tomorrow morning, I wouldn't even drop a tear. It was, has been, and will be a meaningless thing to me.
By extension, I hate all the other social network sites, whether under the guise of it being ``for professionals only'' or not. If folks can recall, facebook used to be a ``for college students only'' thing---that was one of the main reasons that I convinced myself to sign up for an account on it to keep abreast of things that are happening on and around campus. But then it opened up to the rabblement and see what happens now.
I think I'm starting to sound like a grumpy old man now. Heheh.
------
It doesn't take an Einstein to realise that I'm starting to write new entries here on a slightly higher frequency. Yes, it is usually a sign that things are not going well in real life, but that aside, I think that being segregated from people everywhere has a strange way of making me want to write more. Writing is fun; writing is therapeutic. Writing has a way of allowing me to just sit there in an easy chair, and just hack away without a care in the world. But of course, writing because things are not going well is just different from writing fiction---between the two, I think I'm a little better at the former than the latter, since I don't usually have the wherewithal to actually start on any new pieces of fiction (read as: I don't have many stories I feel compelled to tell).
Anyway, it is obvious that I'm just deviating from the main topic of today's bitching. So, till the next time.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Aaaand the Caffeine is Gone
And I now have yet another reason to avoid imbibing too much caffeine and alcohol. I swear that my demeanour changes pretty drastically when either concoctions are taken beyond a certain level, and more often than not, it is one where I become more morose and maudlin. Well, it is not to say that my usual manner is very jovial (it isn't that jovial), but at least it is something that is passable as being vaguely humanish.
Anyway, caffeine quantity. Well, it was an experiment of sorts---I ordered the ``kopi gao upsized'' option from the Ya Kun shop downstairs of my office at around 0800hrs, and finished it by 0830hrs. A big mistake, it seems, since it made me much loopier than usual; I believe a more appropriate word is ``drugged''. But it had some good outcome of course---I managed to get past writing some really ugly looking Python code involving inspection, iterative tools and functional tools, all in the name of science (you monster). It was done to avoid having to write my own parser and grammar for my research---it looks a little ugly for a piece of Python code, but it is probably as clean as it gets given what it is intended to do.
So now, it's late at night, I'm still somewhat awake. Time to deal with some of the administrative mumbo-jumbo prior to entry into graduate school.
Till the next loopy time. =P
Anyway, caffeine quantity. Well, it was an experiment of sorts---I ordered the ``kopi gao upsized'' option from the Ya Kun shop downstairs of my office at around 0800hrs, and finished it by 0830hrs. A big mistake, it seems, since it made me much loopier than usual; I believe a more appropriate word is ``drugged''. But it had some good outcome of course---I managed to get past writing some really ugly looking Python code involving inspection, iterative tools and functional tools, all in the name of science (you monster). It was done to avoid having to write my own parser and grammar for my research---it looks a little ugly for a piece of Python code, but it is probably as clean as it gets given what it is intended to do.
So now, it's late at night, I'm still somewhat awake. Time to deal with some of the administrative mumbo-jumbo prior to entry into graduate school.
Till the next loopy time. =P
Huh..?
I think that my tolerance to caffeine is at an all time low. I'm actually pretty light-headed at the moment, considering that I had only taken about 200ml of strong coffee at around 8am in the morning, which is a good five hours ago. I'm not sure if this is a good thing, but it seems to have the same effect on me as alcohol, in the sense that my brain feels less grounded in reality and more ``up there'' with whatever there is.
Can this be considered as a type of drug-induced escapism? Granted, it is not something of an illegal nature (last I checked, caffeine isn't on that list of prohibited substances), yet it seems to give roughly the same euphoric/carefree effect that the ``usual'' recreational drugs give. Escapism---it seems that my life is fast becoming one that is largely based on this idea, with things that I do seemingly to avoid the drudgery, to avoid the discomfort, to avoid the overall fakeness of frienship and camaraderie.
Why so cynical, one might ask. I have no answer, no answer at all. Cynicism has always been a part of my nature; it is only at those unguarded moments that I permit myself to be less so and to exude a certain contentment with the world that seems baffling to some, including myself. Cynicism is what makes me me, and perhaps that is one reason why I am starting to develop ever stronger negative emotions towards people in general.
People. Hard to live without them, hard to live with them. I wondeer why this is so. Is what I'm experiencing a cry for help that I don't quite realise, or is it something that everyone goes through at one point or another in their lives? Questions, questions, questions, but no answers are forthcoming---to whom may I address all these questions to? Is religion an answer to these vexing questions about life, humans and reality, or is there a more rational perspective that requires little of the whole ``leap of faith'' assumption? More questions that I cannot seem to answer, and I hate questions that I have no answer to.
I think the caffeine is really affecting my brain now; I can't seem to figure out just what point am I making here---it appears that I'm just content typing and typing and letting those words out of my head as though they were part of some water hosereel whose tap had just been released. So many words, so little explanation and coherence---maybe that's what I am in real life; all theory and no coherence whatsoever. No wonder my life feels like an escapism fantasy as I live from one dream to the next in reality while discarding the real dreams that I have when I sleep, the ones that supposedly reflect my true innermost needs and wants.
Needs and wants. What is it I need, and what is it I want? Am I really as fearless as I think I am, or is there something that will make me tremble in my soul? Questions, questions and more questions, and none of the answers. No more support group from now on, it seems---all those people who were a part of my so-called support group have disappeared, each doing their own things, busy with their own sordid lives, and no one has time to listen to poor old me belly-ache and to offer alternative viewpoints and solutions. Some have diverged to the point that my mere presence is enough to cause a rather vitriolic response, warranted or not. I suppose I could just damn those people, but that would be unnecessarily cruel and irrational, would it be not?
I think that now, more than ever, I really need to start to become that island that no one wants to be. To be self-sufficient in thought, to be self-perpetuating, to be self-aware. If that turns me into some sociopath/psychopath, too bad---blame it on the society, our favourite whipping child for everything that is wrong. A pity that my upbringing makes it nearly impossible for me to cause any serious harm to others---I'm sure that it would be quite an interesting if not liberating experience, and all the harm that I can do is to think myself to death. So morbid... heheheh...
Of course, in times like this where my mind is not as it is (under the influence of caffeine here, for example), I start to wonder about some other questions that I have no answer to: am I really that hard to talk to/communicate/be with? This is of course a flipping of some of the questions around---instead of blaming society like every other human does, I start blaming myself. Maybe the people of the support group left because I have turned into something that is cantankerous and hard to talk to. Memories of situations where niceness is shot down come to mind---I don't want to think about it anymore. Let 'em all perish in a conflagaration---I should just be yet another selfish person on the planet.
*sigh*
Hate, hate, hate... what's there to like about me? Everyone seems to have some form of hatred for me, be it small or gigantic. I think I'm starting to hate myself a little too, for being that pushover sort of person. Sometimes I wish this were an ancient setting, where being a hermit is actually a realisable dream. Unfortunately, with the consistent lure of modern amenities (and my current training (curse you!)), that is just not so possible.
Maybe the answer lies in complete misanthropy, dealing with people only when it is the only way to deal with the matter on hand, and having a general despise of people in generaal. That actually sounds pretty cool, but again I blame my upbringing for not being able to pull this off nicely.
Why am I so contrary today?!
Can this be considered as a type of drug-induced escapism? Granted, it is not something of an illegal nature (last I checked, caffeine isn't on that list of prohibited substances), yet it seems to give roughly the same euphoric/carefree effect that the ``usual'' recreational drugs give. Escapism---it seems that my life is fast becoming one that is largely based on this idea, with things that I do seemingly to avoid the drudgery, to avoid the discomfort, to avoid the overall fakeness of frienship and camaraderie.
Why so cynical, one might ask. I have no answer, no answer at all. Cynicism has always been a part of my nature; it is only at those unguarded moments that I permit myself to be less so and to exude a certain contentment with the world that seems baffling to some, including myself. Cynicism is what makes me me, and perhaps that is one reason why I am starting to develop ever stronger negative emotions towards people in general.
People. Hard to live without them, hard to live with them. I wondeer why this is so. Is what I'm experiencing a cry for help that I don't quite realise, or is it something that everyone goes through at one point or another in their lives? Questions, questions, questions, but no answers are forthcoming---to whom may I address all these questions to? Is religion an answer to these vexing questions about life, humans and reality, or is there a more rational perspective that requires little of the whole ``leap of faith'' assumption? More questions that I cannot seem to answer, and I hate questions that I have no answer to.
I think the caffeine is really affecting my brain now; I can't seem to figure out just what point am I making here---it appears that I'm just content typing and typing and letting those words out of my head as though they were part of some water hosereel whose tap had just been released. So many words, so little explanation and coherence---maybe that's what I am in real life; all theory and no coherence whatsoever. No wonder my life feels like an escapism fantasy as I live from one dream to the next in reality while discarding the real dreams that I have when I sleep, the ones that supposedly reflect my true innermost needs and wants.
Needs and wants. What is it I need, and what is it I want? Am I really as fearless as I think I am, or is there something that will make me tremble in my soul? Questions, questions and more questions, and none of the answers. No more support group from now on, it seems---all those people who were a part of my so-called support group have disappeared, each doing their own things, busy with their own sordid lives, and no one has time to listen to poor old me belly-ache and to offer alternative viewpoints and solutions. Some have diverged to the point that my mere presence is enough to cause a rather vitriolic response, warranted or not. I suppose I could just damn those people, but that would be unnecessarily cruel and irrational, would it be not?
I think that now, more than ever, I really need to start to become that island that no one wants to be. To be self-sufficient in thought, to be self-perpetuating, to be self-aware. If that turns me into some sociopath/psychopath, too bad---blame it on the society, our favourite whipping child for everything that is wrong. A pity that my upbringing makes it nearly impossible for me to cause any serious harm to others---I'm sure that it would be quite an interesting if not liberating experience, and all the harm that I can do is to think myself to death. So morbid... heheheh...
Of course, in times like this where my mind is not as it is (under the influence of caffeine here, for example), I start to wonder about some other questions that I have no answer to: am I really that hard to talk to/communicate/be with? This is of course a flipping of some of the questions around---instead of blaming society like every other human does, I start blaming myself. Maybe the people of the support group left because I have turned into something that is cantankerous and hard to talk to. Memories of situations where niceness is shot down come to mind---I don't want to think about it anymore. Let 'em all perish in a conflagaration---I should just be yet another selfish person on the planet.
*sigh*
Hate, hate, hate... what's there to like about me? Everyone seems to have some form of hatred for me, be it small or gigantic. I think I'm starting to hate myself a little too, for being that pushover sort of person. Sometimes I wish this were an ancient setting, where being a hermit is actually a realisable dream. Unfortunately, with the consistent lure of modern amenities (and my current training (curse you!)), that is just not so possible.
Maybe the answer lies in complete misanthropy, dealing with people only when it is the only way to deal with the matter on hand, and having a general despise of people in generaal. That actually sounds pretty cool, but again I blame my upbringing for not being able to pull this off nicely.
Why am I so contrary today?!
Huh?
I'm not much of a fan of sleeping a lot, but there are times where I actually appreciate a good night's rest just so that I can feel a little more rested than usual. Of course, one of the side effects of having enough sleep is that I dream, and we all know my views on that matter (I don't like dreaming since I can remember most of the dreams that I have, and since dreams represent to a degree one's subconscious/unconscious desires, it is not something that I want to remember), so it is often with great reluctance that I partake in such an activity.
Sleeplessness takes its toll on the human body, for sure---one is mostly functional at a low level that requires little insightful thinking and that's about it. But I find that as time goes by, and as I slowly get acclimatised to the fact that I'm largely sleepless, the ill effects sort of go away.
I realise that I'm not much of a morning person. True, I can get up and out early in the morning, but my brain isn't actually ``awake''---I can absorb information well in the morning, but I can't process them till much later when the sun is up. Afternoon is my ``hard core thinking'' time, where I can devote energies to unravelling just what is going on. And when night time comes, that's when the coding streak comes out. Ideally, the said coding should be done with some hard liquor on hand for the best results, but liquor is expensive and sometimes clashes with some of the random medication that I need (read: it clashes with every damn thing that can be counted as medication, from antihistamines to everything else), but one cannot be too picky at times.
It is at times like this that I wish I could be fully operational/functional with only 4--6 hours of sleep. That NZT-48 drug would have been a godsend should it actually be real (read: it isn't real; only appears in the show Limitless, a nice film along the lines of Flowers for Algernon, but with a more Hollywood-esque ending, i.e. everyone lives happily ever after), but of course such good things almost never appears in real life---gotta make do with what we have.
Anyway, I think that life has a much simpler question to answer than what many people think. It is not so much as ``what is life'' but ``how do I deal with whatever life throws at me'' that we need to seriously consider. I find that even the best of plans that one may have for one's life can be and will be marred by events that one has little control over, and thus it is actually more useful to know how to react than to be completely proactive. The concept of being completely proactive suggests some level of control, which is not wrong on its own, but many people misunderstand that the [limited] control that they have over matters are somehow complete. That is of course dangerous and is the chief reason why people get pissed off when things don't go their way. I think I've been hit with enough of this crap that I'm starting to understand the whole ``make plans but be prepared to react accordingly'' perspective of life.
Alright, I think this is starting to get a little too heavy for a Monday morning, so I shall stop my belly-aching here. Till next time.
Sleeplessness takes its toll on the human body, for sure---one is mostly functional at a low level that requires little insightful thinking and that's about it. But I find that as time goes by, and as I slowly get acclimatised to the fact that I'm largely sleepless, the ill effects sort of go away.
I realise that I'm not much of a morning person. True, I can get up and out early in the morning, but my brain isn't actually ``awake''---I can absorb information well in the morning, but I can't process them till much later when the sun is up. Afternoon is my ``hard core thinking'' time, where I can devote energies to unravelling just what is going on. And when night time comes, that's when the coding streak comes out. Ideally, the said coding should be done with some hard liquor on hand for the best results, but liquor is expensive and sometimes clashes with some of the random medication that I need (read: it clashes with every damn thing that can be counted as medication, from antihistamines to everything else), but one cannot be too picky at times.
It is at times like this that I wish I could be fully operational/functional with only 4--6 hours of sleep. That NZT-48 drug would have been a godsend should it actually be real (read: it isn't real; only appears in the show Limitless, a nice film along the lines of Flowers for Algernon, but with a more Hollywood-esque ending, i.e. everyone lives happily ever after), but of course such good things almost never appears in real life---gotta make do with what we have.
Anyway, I think that life has a much simpler question to answer than what many people think. It is not so much as ``what is life'' but ``how do I deal with whatever life throws at me'' that we need to seriously consider. I find that even the best of plans that one may have for one's life can be and will be marred by events that one has little control over, and thus it is actually more useful to know how to react than to be completely proactive. The concept of being completely proactive suggests some level of control, which is not wrong on its own, but many people misunderstand that the [limited] control that they have over matters are somehow complete. That is of course dangerous and is the chief reason why people get pissed off when things don't go their way. I think I've been hit with enough of this crap that I'm starting to understand the whole ``make plans but be prepared to react accordingly'' perspective of life.
Alright, I think this is starting to get a little too heavy for a Monday morning, so I shall stop my belly-aching here. Till next time.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Tired Rant
It's late at night, and looks like it just me, an imaginary tequila, and my trusty Eileen with which I use to write all these things here. To be had, I have actually been doing a lot of observing in between all these posts, and I suppose it is time to just unload the entire barrage of words here to cleanse it out of my mind.
V guvax V nz fgnegvat gb unir n cubovn gbjneqf gur ragver pbaprcg bs vagvzngr eryngvbafuvcf. V qba'g zvaq unatvat bhg jvgu crbcyr, pbzcyrgr fgenatref rira, ohg jura vg pbzrf gb npghnyyl orvat jvgu n pbhcyr bs crbcyr V xabj jryy rabhtu, V fgneg gb ybfr sbphf ba jung vf ng unaq, naq fgneg gb eha bhg bs guvatf gb fnl, juvpu, vs lbh unir xabja zr sebz n cerivbhf yvsr, vf fbzrguvat gung vf dhvgr vzcbffvoyr gb fdhner jvgu. V'z abg ernyyl pregnva jul guvf cubovn vf pbzvat hc, ohg nf hfhny, V unir n srj gurbevrf.
Gurbel ahzore bar vf gung vg vf n qrsrafr zrpunavfz gung V unir orra erylvat ba gb xrrc zr fnar rire fvapr zl rkrf oebxr hc jvgu zr arneyl n lrne cyhf onpx (jbj, vg fher vf ybat ntb). Fgnegrq gb abg frr gur arrq sbe gung fb-pnyyrq ``fvtavsvpnag bgure'', naq gung cebonoyl genafsbezrq vagb n trareny ncngul gbjneqf guvf jubyr zrff.
Gurbel ahzore gjb vf gung V nz fbzrjung nssrpgrq ol gur crbcyr naq gurve eryngvbafuvcf nebhaq zr, naq ernyvfr gung na vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc vf whfg fbzrguvat gung V pnaabg or vaibyirq va. Zbfg bs gur crbcyr jubz V frr jub ner va fgnoyr eryngvbafuvcf graq gb unir gur birenyy srryvat bs bireg obevatarff---gurer vf uneqyl nal rkhorenag ernpgvbaf, yvggyr fcbagnarbhf npgvba, enaqbz urnegl ynhtugre naq gur yvxr. Abar, anqn. Vg'f nyy fb... dhvrg naq nqhyg-yvxr---rirelbar frrzf gb or fb frevbhf nyy gur qnza gvzr. Vs lbh nfx zr, vs guvf vf jung orvat va n eryngvbafuvc vf nyy nobhg, V guvax V'q engure or qrnq guna gb or pnhtug va fhpu n ynpxyhfger fvghngvba bs snxr znghevgl; V nz ol angher zber vadhvfvgvir naq fcbagnarbhf, naq vs lbh jnag zr gb or punvarq gb n dhvrg yvggyr yvsr, vg whfg vfa'g tbvat gb unccra.
Gurbel ahzore guerr vf gung V unir fgnegrq gb frr ubj nyy gurfr vagvzngr eryngvbafuvcf pna tb jebat, naq gur nsgrezngu gurl oevat. V haqrejrag n pbhcyr bs oernx hcf ba zl bja, fb V'z jryy njner bs gur xvaqf bs fvqr rssrpgf gurer. Ohg gura gurer ner gubfr jub qvibeprq nsgre fbzr gvzr va zneevntr, naq gurer ner gubfr jub frrz gb unir ceboyrzf va gurve zneevntr qhr gb n fhccbfrq ybfvat bs gur fb-pnyyrq ``fcnex''. Frrzf gb zr gung guvf jubyr vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc guvat vf whfg n snepr bs fbegf.
Gurbel ahzore sbhe vf gung V guvax V nz, va trareny, orpbzvat zber naq zber nagvfbpvny va angher. Nyernql V svaq zlfrys tenivgngvat njnl sebz uhzna pbagnpg, naq rira va gur pnfrf jurer V qb unir pbagnpg jvgu bgure crbcyr, V unir xrcg gur gjb fcurerf bs crefbany naq ohfvarff snveyl pyrne sebz rnpu bgure. Gur trareny ynpx bs n ``crefbany'' fvqr vf nyfb yvxryl gb or gur ernfba jul V nz svaqvat gur jubyr vqrn bs na vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc zrnavatyrff, naq bs pbhefr vg ornef erzvaqvat gung ``vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc'' urer zrnaf zber guna whfg oblsevraq-tveysevraq eryngvbafuvcf---vg vapyhqrf sevraqfuvcf nf jryy.
Gurbel ahzore svir vf gung zl fb-pnyyrq sevraqf unir qevsgrq shegure njnl sebz zr. Nyy gur sbyxf jubz V unq bapr pnyyrq zl ``oebgure'' be ``orfg sevraq'' ner ab ybatre va pbagnpg jvgu zr, naq rira jura jr qb zrrg naq gnyx, vg vf uvtuyl fhcresvpvny, jvgu zr hapbafpvbhfyl gheavat ba gur fanex naq qbqtvat nalguvat gung vf ersreevat gb zr. Uryy, ng guvf cbvag V nz qnevat rabhtu gb pynvz gung V qba'g ernyyl unir nalbar jubz V pbasvqr va nalzber---gurer ner gubfr jub vtaber zr, gubfr jub bhgevtug ner naablrq ng zr rabhtu gung V zvtug pbafvqre ungr, naq gubfr jubfr yvirf unir pnhtug hc jvgu gurz gb gur cbvag gung gurl whfg arrq gb qrny jvgu gurz vafgrnq bs gnyxvat jvgu zr. Sbe gur ynfg-zbfg glcr bs crefba, vg vf cnegyl zl snhyg, orpnhfr V qba'g ernyyl unir nalguvat gb fnl/jnag gb fnl nalguvat nobhg zlfrys ng nyy.
Ng guvf cbvag, nyy V unir ner gurbevrf ba jung vf tbvat ba, ohg V qba'g ernyyl xabj jung gur urpx vf jebat jvgu zr. Znlor V'z birejbexrq/birefgerffrq nf jung Ivpgbe fnvq, be znlor V'z whfg gheavat vagb n qbhpuront jvgubhg npgviryl ernyvfvat vg. Ohg jungrire vg vf, vg jbhyq nccrne gung V'z snfg trggvat zl jvfu bs tbvat vg nybar---zhpu bs gur jbeyq unf nyernql sbefnxra zr, naq V'z abg ernyyl nyy gung rntre gb tnva onpx nyy gung V unir fhccbfrqyl ybfg, sbe fbzr qnza ernfba.
Fbzrgvzrf V jbaqre gb zlfrys, vs rirelguvat gung V unir qbar fb sne vf ernyyl jbegu vg ng gur raq. Rnpu gvzr n qnl cnffrf, V svaq gung zl ybsgvre vqrnyf sebz gur cnfg ner snfg rebqvat njnl. V bapr gubhtug gung zl nvz va yvsr jnf gb pbagevohgr cbfvgviryl gb fbpvrgl, ohg gur byqre V trg, gur zber V ernyvfr ubj fbpvrgl vf ernyyl shpxrq hc, naq gung bar zvfrenoyr zr jvgubhg anzr abe jrnygu pna'g qb nalguvat ng nyy. V hfrq gb guvax V jnf zbenyyl hcevtug, ohg nf gvzr jrag ol, V fgnegrq gb abg tvir n fuvg nobhg gur zbenyvgl bs guvatf, cersreevat gb guvax va grezf bs hgvyvgl vafgrnq. V guvax vg unf pbzr gb n cbvag jurer V fgneg gb unir na vqragvgl pevfvf---whfg jung gur uryy nz V? V qba'g xabj nobhg bguref, ohg V guvax V'z fgvyy tenccyvat jvgu guvf dhrfgvba fbzrjung, naq V ubcr gung bar qnl V jvyy svther guvf bhg.
*tears hair a little*
Most days I just feel tired. Tired of the drama, tired of the rat race. Tired of having to deal with people, both the smart and the stupid, tired of dealing with machines, both working and not. Tired of dragging my rotting carcass to work, tired of dragging it back. Tired of unconsciously comapring myself with others, tired of being stood up and pushed around. Tired of being maligned, tired of being yelled at for no damn reason. Tired of being tired all the damn time.
Perhaps the answer I am seeking can be found through another way.
V guvax V nz fgnegvat gb unir n cubovn gbjneqf gur ragver pbaprcg bs vagvzngr eryngvbafuvcf. V qba'g zvaq unatvat bhg jvgu crbcyr, pbzcyrgr fgenatref rira, ohg jura vg pbzrf gb npghnyyl orvat jvgu n pbhcyr bs crbcyr V xabj jryy rabhtu, V fgneg gb ybfr sbphf ba jung vf ng unaq, naq fgneg gb eha bhg bs guvatf gb fnl, juvpu, vs lbh unir xabja zr sebz n cerivbhf yvsr, vf fbzrguvat gung vf dhvgr vzcbffvoyr gb fdhner jvgu. V'z abg ernyyl pregnva jul guvf cubovn vf pbzvat hc, ohg nf hfhny, V unir n srj gurbevrf.
Gurbel ahzore bar vf gung vg vf n qrsrafr zrpunavfz gung V unir orra erylvat ba gb xrrc zr fnar rire fvapr zl rkrf oebxr hc jvgu zr arneyl n lrne cyhf onpx (jbj, vg fher vf ybat ntb). Fgnegrq gb abg frr gur arrq sbe gung fb-pnyyrq ``fvtavsvpnag bgure'', naq gung cebonoyl genafsbezrq vagb n trareny ncngul gbjneqf guvf jubyr zrff.
Gurbel ahzore gjb vf gung V nz fbzrjung nssrpgrq ol gur crbcyr naq gurve eryngvbafuvcf nebhaq zr, naq ernyvfr gung na vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc vf whfg fbzrguvat gung V pnaabg or vaibyirq va. Zbfg bs gur crbcyr jubz V frr jub ner va fgnoyr eryngvbafuvcf graq gb unir gur birenyy srryvat bs bireg obevatarff---gurer vf uneqyl nal rkhorenag ernpgvbaf, yvggyr fcbagnarbhf npgvba, enaqbz urnegl ynhtugre naq gur yvxr. Abar, anqn. Vg'f nyy fb... dhvrg naq nqhyg-yvxr---rirelbar frrzf gb or fb frevbhf nyy gur qnza gvzr. Vs lbh nfx zr, vs guvf vf jung orvat va n eryngvbafuvc vf nyy nobhg, V guvax V'q engure or qrnq guna gb or pnhtug va fhpu n ynpxyhfger fvghngvba bs snxr znghevgl; V nz ol angher zber vadhvfvgvir naq fcbagnarbhf, naq vs lbh jnag zr gb or punvarq gb n dhvrg yvggyr yvsr, vg whfg vfa'g tbvat gb unccra.
Gurbel ahzore guerr vf gung V unir fgnegrq gb frr ubj nyy gurfr vagvzngr eryngvbafuvcf pna tb jebat, naq gur nsgrezngu gurl oevat. V haqrejrag n pbhcyr bs oernx hcf ba zl bja, fb V'z jryy njner bs gur xvaqf bs fvqr rssrpgf gurer. Ohg gura gurer ner gubfr jub qvibeprq nsgre fbzr gvzr va zneevntr, naq gurer ner gubfr jub frrz gb unir ceboyrzf va gurve zneevntr qhr gb n fhccbfrq ybfvat bs gur fb-pnyyrq ``fcnex''. Frrzf gb zr gung guvf jubyr vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc guvat vf whfg n snepr bs fbegf.
Gurbel ahzore sbhe vf gung V guvax V nz, va trareny, orpbzvat zber naq zber nagvfbpvny va angher. Nyernql V svaq zlfrys tenivgngvat njnl sebz uhzna pbagnpg, naq rira va gur pnfrf jurer V qb unir pbagnpg jvgu bgure crbcyr, V unir xrcg gur gjb fcurerf bs crefbany naq ohfvarff snveyl pyrne sebz rnpu bgure. Gur trareny ynpx bs n ``crefbany'' fvqr vf nyfb yvxryl gb or gur ernfba jul V nz svaqvat gur jubyr vqrn bs na vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc zrnavatyrff, naq bs pbhefr vg ornef erzvaqvat gung ``vagvzngr eryngvbafuvc'' urer zrnaf zber guna whfg oblsevraq-tveysevraq eryngvbafuvcf---vg vapyhqrf sevraqfuvcf nf jryy.
Gurbel ahzore svir vf gung zl fb-pnyyrq sevraqf unir qevsgrq shegure njnl sebz zr. Nyy gur sbyxf jubz V unq bapr pnyyrq zl ``oebgure'' be ``orfg sevraq'' ner ab ybatre va pbagnpg jvgu zr, naq rira jura jr qb zrrg naq gnyx, vg vf uvtuyl fhcresvpvny, jvgu zr hapbafpvbhfyl gheavat ba gur fanex naq qbqtvat nalguvat gung vf ersreevat gb zr. Uryy, ng guvf cbvag V nz qnevat rabhtu gb pynvz gung V qba'g ernyyl unir nalbar jubz V pbasvqr va nalzber---gurer ner gubfr jub vtaber zr, gubfr jub bhgevtug ner naablrq ng zr rabhtu gung V zvtug pbafvqre ungr, naq gubfr jubfr yvirf unir pnhtug hc jvgu gurz gb gur cbvag gung gurl whfg arrq gb qrny jvgu gurz vafgrnq bs gnyxvat jvgu zr. Sbe gur ynfg-zbfg glcr bs crefba, vg vf cnegyl zl snhyg, orpnhfr V qba'g ernyyl unir nalguvat gb fnl/jnag gb fnl nalguvat nobhg zlfrys ng nyy.
Ng guvf cbvag, nyy V unir ner gurbevrf ba jung vf tbvat ba, ohg V qba'g ernyyl xabj jung gur urpx vf jebat jvgu zr. Znlor V'z birejbexrq/birefgerffrq nf jung Ivpgbe fnvq, be znlor V'z whfg gheavat vagb n qbhpuront jvgubhg npgviryl ernyvfvat vg. Ohg jungrire vg vf, vg jbhyq nccrne gung V'z snfg trggvat zl jvfu bs tbvat vg nybar---zhpu bs gur jbeyq unf nyernql sbefnxra zr, naq V'z abg ernyyl nyy gung rntre gb tnva onpx nyy gung V unir fhccbfrqyl ybfg, sbe fbzr qnza ernfba.
Fbzrgvzrf V jbaqre gb zlfrys, vs rirelguvat gung V unir qbar fb sne vf ernyyl jbegu vg ng gur raq. Rnpu gvzr n qnl cnffrf, V svaq gung zl ybsgvre vqrnyf sebz gur cnfg ner snfg rebqvat njnl. V bapr gubhtug gung zl nvz va yvsr jnf gb pbagevohgr cbfvgviryl gb fbpvrgl, ohg gur byqre V trg, gur zber V ernyvfr ubj fbpvrgl vf ernyyl shpxrq hc, naq gung bar zvfrenoyr zr jvgubhg anzr abe jrnygu pna'g qb nalguvat ng nyy. V hfrq gb guvax V jnf zbenyyl hcevtug, ohg nf gvzr jrag ol, V fgnegrq gb abg tvir n fuvg nobhg gur zbenyvgl bs guvatf, cersreevat gb guvax va grezf bs hgvyvgl vafgrnq. V guvax vg unf pbzr gb n cbvag jurer V fgneg gb unir na vqragvgl pevfvf---whfg jung gur uryy nz V? V qba'g xabj nobhg bguref, ohg V guvax V'z fgvyy tenccyvat jvgu guvf dhrfgvba fbzrjung, naq V ubcr gung bar qnl V jvyy svther guvf bhg.
*tears hair a little*
Most days I just feel tired. Tired of the drama, tired of the rat race. Tired of having to deal with people, both the smart and the stupid, tired of dealing with machines, both working and not. Tired of dragging my rotting carcass to work, tired of dragging it back. Tired of unconsciously comapring myself with others, tired of being stood up and pushed around. Tired of being maligned, tired of being yelled at for no damn reason. Tired of being tired all the damn time.
Perhaps the answer I am seeking can be found through another way.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Koop Island Blues
With little delay:
What drew me to this piece is partly due to the smooth caribbean jazzy feel of the instrumentation, and of course the wistful lyrics. The first time I actually paid attention to the lyrics, I found that it was quite relevant to what I had been experiencing for quite a while. In some ways, we never seem to break out of the mold of our first few lovers---time and time again we end up being attracted to someone of a similar nature as those we've been with before, as irrational as it seems.
Very simple lyrics, but with something a little more deep than the usual ``lost love'' genre songs.
Koop Island Blues——Koop featuring Ane BrunLyrics courtesy of www.lyricsmania.com.
Hello my love
It's getting cold on this island
I'm sad alone
I'm so sad on my own
The truth is
We were much too young
Now I'm looking for you
Or anyone like you
We said goodbye
With the smile on our faces
Now you're alone
You're so sad on your own
The truth is
We run out of time
Now you're looking for me
Or anyone like me
Na na na na...
Hello my love
It's getting cold on this island
I'm sad alone
I'm so sad on my own
The truth is
We were much too young
Now I'm looking for you
Or anyone like you
What drew me to this piece is partly due to the smooth caribbean jazzy feel of the instrumentation, and of course the wistful lyrics. The first time I actually paid attention to the lyrics, I found that it was quite relevant to what I had been experiencing for quite a while. In some ways, we never seem to break out of the mold of our first few lovers---time and time again we end up being attracted to someone of a similar nature as those we've been with before, as irrational as it seems.
Very simple lyrics, but with something a little more deep than the usual ``lost love'' genre songs.
Malignment
If there is one thing in the world that I allow myself to hate, it would have to be the idea of being maligned.
I hate being maligned. I have said this before a good four-ish years ago, but things have a strange way of repeating themselves in cycles, whether or not we realise it. Being maligned is one of the most annoying and asinine acts that people can do to me. I can tolerate anger, I can tolerate hate. But I absolutely cannot tolerate being maligned for something I did not do.
Being maligned is probably one of the worst kinds of feelings to go through, particularly when the incident in which one is maligned was actually something quite benign in nature. Indeed, there is a Chinese saying of ``听者有意，说者无'', i.e. the listener listens with a certain intent in mind while the speaker had no such intention. Humans have a strange way of picking what they want to hear, and most times it does not help when they already have a preconceived notion of what you are, and thus take everything with that prejudiced perspective in mind.
I suppose that's why I've started to not give a damn about other people and their thoughts, preferring to think simple and literal, and to have an overall expression level that is no better than a moron. All the fancy words in the world will not change any person's mental model of who you might be.
I hate being maligned. I have said this before a good four-ish years ago, but things have a strange way of repeating themselves in cycles, whether or not we realise it. Being maligned is one of the most annoying and asinine acts that people can do to me. I can tolerate anger, I can tolerate hate. But I absolutely cannot tolerate being maligned for something I did not do.
Being maligned is probably one of the worst kinds of feelings to go through, particularly when the incident in which one is maligned was actually something quite benign in nature. Indeed, there is a Chinese saying of ``听者有意，说者无'', i.e. the listener listens with a certain intent in mind while the speaker had no such intention. Humans have a strange way of picking what they want to hear, and most times it does not help when they already have a preconceived notion of what you are, and thus take everything with that prejudiced perspective in mind.
I suppose that's why I've started to not give a damn about other people and their thoughts, preferring to think simple and literal, and to have an overall expression level that is no better than a moron. All the fancy words in the world will not change any person's mental model of who you might be.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
SMS Musing #1
One day while waiting for someone, I started writing a fragment on my cellphone using the SMS interface. Here it is:
And some days you wonder if life were a dream, and that everything that you ever knew were merely illusions. It becomes hard to decipher what truly is real and what isn't, and slowly, you learn to just accept whatever is present before you. But each time a deja vu strikes, you cannot help but wonder if there is more than meets the eye, that something somewhere is noticing your confusion and having a good laugh about it. The surreal fog of supposed truth always keeps you wrapped firmly within its cold grasp, as though it were the only thing that remains important and unchanging. Wonder turns to reluctant acceptance, and slowly the thought of ever questioning reality fades slowly away, never to return until yet another strange day. Perhaps this is the ultimate destiny of humanity, where one day we will indeed run out of new questions to ask.Obviously I didn't send this out to anyone/anywhere, but I thought it interesting enough to transcribe it for here.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Waiting
What can be the most annoying thing that one has to put up with in real life?
The answer is surprisingly simple---it is the waiting. Waiting can be thought of as an unintended break; a break because while waiting, there is little else that one can do, and unintended because most of the time, it is the circumstances that dictate we end up waiting.
It does not help that in this time and age that we live in, the concept of ``instant communication'' is the norm. No longer does one find it normal to wait for nearly two days for a reply to something that was asked---anything that does not get a reply in five hours becomes a cause of concern. Much to my chagrin, I have found myself falling into this category as well.
My patience seems to run really low these days, among other things. It's almost as though I can no longer tolerate the little lapses that people make, and that includes myself. Maybe that's where all the communication break down begins...
Alright, enough ranting. I'm already sick of how short it is.
The answer is surprisingly simple---it is the waiting. Waiting can be thought of as an unintended break; a break because while waiting, there is little else that one can do, and unintended because most of the time, it is the circumstances that dictate we end up waiting.
It does not help that in this time and age that we live in, the concept of ``instant communication'' is the norm. No longer does one find it normal to wait for nearly two days for a reply to something that was asked---anything that does not get a reply in five hours becomes a cause of concern. Much to my chagrin, I have found myself falling into this category as well.
My patience seems to run really low these days, among other things. It's almost as though I can no longer tolerate the little lapses that people make, and that includes myself. Maybe that's where all the communication break down begins...
Alright, enough ranting. I'm already sick of how short it is.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Outdoor Life
For a person who has been largely confined to a mostly indoor existence, it would appear quite strange that I would partake in a large variety of outdoor activities. While I'm not an extreme outdoor activities person, over the course of these few months, I realise that I am actually more sporty than I realise I ever could be.
Circumstances back in the day dictated that I had to refrain from strenuous physical activity to protect myself against flare-ups of my dermatitis. It was notsomuch that I was that sensitive to the problems, but that due to the whole regimented nature in which all the physical activities were conducted (school classes, military training), I was unable to take steps towards alleviating the conditions that would cause a flare-up all in the name of conformity. But now, free from all these arbitrarily designed limitations, I am free to pursue this side of human life that I have been robbed off in childhood.
It might come as a surprise to some that I am actually practising Aikido on a very regular basis. There is something about taking breakfalls, throwing and pinning people that make it a very good stress reliever. Having to focus one's weight into a single point has a way of literally maintaining the balance of the body, and all the conditioning exercises that precede each training session has seen their effects on my body. Not only do I have more stamina now than before, I have found that it becomes much easier to concentrate my strength to whatever task I need, with much less incidence of injury due to improper positioning or wrongful application of force. Aikido or any other martial art has a strange way of increasing one's spatial awareness, and that alone has made it much easier to enjoy the outdoor life.
Apart from being the occasional cyclist, most of my outdoor life activities revolve around the activity of Geocaching. Geocaching is hardly a new phenomenon since it has been around for more than a decade by now, but it is only recently that I have the wherewithal to actually pursue it with more aggression and enthusiasm than before. Partly due to the effects of some of the more enthusiastic geocachers that I have converted, and partly because I could attach some faces to the names that I see in the online geocache logs, my activities with regards to this has increased by quite a fair bit. To say that geocaching is a waste of time is not quite correct, since it is with geocaching that one would have the opportunity to go around a location, enjoying the natural sights and sounds and company, with the ultimate reward of finding that elusive geocache. Indeed, I would not have bashed through jungles, spelunked, traipsed over low tide beaches and the like if I weren't geocaching. Some people question the rewards of geocaching, often asking questions to the tune of ``so what happens when you find a geocache?''. To ask such a question seems to defeat the whole purpose of geocaching to begin with---the reward is not about the geocache you find, but the journey it took you to get there. In fact, one of the tenets of a geocache hide is that if there was nothing else interesting about the place where the geocache was hidden, perhaps it was not a good idea to hide it there in the first place.
But the outdoor life didn't come completely from geocaching of course. Ever since I was confined to the indoors I have always had that romantic view of adventures all over the world, travelling and exploring places that are less trodden, seeking for interesting formations, architectural ruins and the like. The books that I enjoyed a lot were those that chronicled the travels of adventurers; if I couldn't go to those places that they had gone, at least I could experience them vicariously. Perhaps that is a reason why I enjoy anthropological documentaries, where anthropologists travel to some tribe far from the urban civilisation and do a study on their customs and way of life, and to study the impact of both globalisation and the rise of capitalism (and religious proselytising).
And yes, even as I am writing this and working, I am already thinking on the next adventure I should go on. Number of jungles bashed: 3. Number of strange tunnels spelunked: 1. Amount of fun and experience in the process: Priceless.
Till the next adventure.
Circumstances back in the day dictated that I had to refrain from strenuous physical activity to protect myself against flare-ups of my dermatitis. It was notsomuch that I was that sensitive to the problems, but that due to the whole regimented nature in which all the physical activities were conducted (school classes, military training), I was unable to take steps towards alleviating the conditions that would cause a flare-up all in the name of conformity. But now, free from all these arbitrarily designed limitations, I am free to pursue this side of human life that I have been robbed off in childhood.
It might come as a surprise to some that I am actually practising Aikido on a very regular basis. There is something about taking breakfalls, throwing and pinning people that make it a very good stress reliever. Having to focus one's weight into a single point has a way of literally maintaining the balance of the body, and all the conditioning exercises that precede each training session has seen their effects on my body. Not only do I have more stamina now than before, I have found that it becomes much easier to concentrate my strength to whatever task I need, with much less incidence of injury due to improper positioning or wrongful application of force. Aikido or any other martial art has a strange way of increasing one's spatial awareness, and that alone has made it much easier to enjoy the outdoor life.
Apart from being the occasional cyclist, most of my outdoor life activities revolve around the activity of Geocaching. Geocaching is hardly a new phenomenon since it has been around for more than a decade by now, but it is only recently that I have the wherewithal to actually pursue it with more aggression and enthusiasm than before. Partly due to the effects of some of the more enthusiastic geocachers that I have converted, and partly because I could attach some faces to the names that I see in the online geocache logs, my activities with regards to this has increased by quite a fair bit. To say that geocaching is a waste of time is not quite correct, since it is with geocaching that one would have the opportunity to go around a location, enjoying the natural sights and sounds and company, with the ultimate reward of finding that elusive geocache. Indeed, I would not have bashed through jungles, spelunked, traipsed over low tide beaches and the like if I weren't geocaching. Some people question the rewards of geocaching, often asking questions to the tune of ``so what happens when you find a geocache?''. To ask such a question seems to defeat the whole purpose of geocaching to begin with---the reward is not about the geocache you find, but the journey it took you to get there. In fact, one of the tenets of a geocache hide is that if there was nothing else interesting about the place where the geocache was hidden, perhaps it was not a good idea to hide it there in the first place.
But the outdoor life didn't come completely from geocaching of course. Ever since I was confined to the indoors I have always had that romantic view of adventures all over the world, travelling and exploring places that are less trodden, seeking for interesting formations, architectural ruins and the like. The books that I enjoyed a lot were those that chronicled the travels of adventurers; if I couldn't go to those places that they had gone, at least I could experience them vicariously. Perhaps that is a reason why I enjoy anthropological documentaries, where anthropologists travel to some tribe far from the urban civilisation and do a study on their customs and way of life, and to study the impact of both globalisation and the rise of capitalism (and religious proselytising).
And yes, even as I am writing this and working, I am already thinking on the next adventure I should go on. Number of jungles bashed: 3. Number of strange tunnels spelunked: 1. Amount of fun and experience in the process: Priceless.
Till the next adventure.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Governmental Ruminations
As I was sitting in the food court having a spicy meal of mutton curry, my mind drifted to and fro and in and out of consciousness. And then, something struck me as being odd.
The current system of democratic elections as practised by most of the civilised world seem to bias itself towards a local optimum as opposed to a global optimum system, what with the need to first elect members of parliament (MPs) to represent the constituency before selecting the cabinet ministers from the MPs in the dominant elected party.
Okay, so maybe they don't elect cabinet ministers from the MPs because that is only applicable to countries with a parliament (a republic) as opposed to one with a senate (a democracy). But the general idea is the same---everyone votes for their local representative, and the overall ``winner'' is determined by the aggregate votes throughout.
By virtue of the workings of the system, there seems to be an innate assumption that through selecting the local representative, it is possible to obtain a corp of people who, as a whole, can govern and manage the country well. This particular assumption is not wholly substantiated by theory---it is not known that government systems based on elections follow an optimum substructure property that guarantees us a global optimum peformance. Using a less jargon-filled approach, what I mean is that we have no proof that the local representatives whom we have voted into office to represent our localised interests are indeed effective custodians for the country's interest.
But of course, trying to institute a dual system will definitely cause a lot of complaints, since there will then be a perception that those who are voted in to deal with ``the big stuff'' are somehow ranked higher than the local representative representing the common folk. There are current governmental systems that have this partitioning concept sans the ``vote into power'' bit---observe how in some governmental systems, there is an upper house and a lower house, where the upper house are either made up of hereditary posts and the lower house is made up of members who were voted into power. It would appear then that the innate local versus global optimum bias is side stepped by a clear partitioning of the two interest groups---the upper house, being of ``noble descent'', seem more clearly suited to handle ``the big stuff'', while the lower house, being made of people voted into power, represent the localised interests. But of course, this just introduces a new type of bias that is a little hard to quantify; are those of the ``high born'' really more interested in the country's welfare?
But anyway, ruminations aside, political systems, in spite of the many efforts to rigourise them, are still products of an organic system that is not easily explained with the cold logic of empirical science. Even as we speak, even as I utter things here, the perceptions of how governance is enacted is still a hotly debated topic in both the academic and practical fields. I suppose only time will tell if what we are doing are indeed correct enough to stave off any major polirical catastrophes.
The current system of democratic elections as practised by most of the civilised world seem to bias itself towards a local optimum as opposed to a global optimum system, what with the need to first elect members of parliament (MPs) to represent the constituency before selecting the cabinet ministers from the MPs in the dominant elected party.
Okay, so maybe they don't elect cabinet ministers from the MPs because that is only applicable to countries with a parliament (a republic) as opposed to one with a senate (a democracy). But the general idea is the same---everyone votes for their local representative, and the overall ``winner'' is determined by the aggregate votes throughout.
By virtue of the workings of the system, there seems to be an innate assumption that through selecting the local representative, it is possible to obtain a corp of people who, as a whole, can govern and manage the country well. This particular assumption is not wholly substantiated by theory---it is not known that government systems based on elections follow an optimum substructure property that guarantees us a global optimum peformance. Using a less jargon-filled approach, what I mean is that we have no proof that the local representatives whom we have voted into office to represent our localised interests are indeed effective custodians for the country's interest.
But of course, trying to institute a dual system will definitely cause a lot of complaints, since there will then be a perception that those who are voted in to deal with ``the big stuff'' are somehow ranked higher than the local representative representing the common folk. There are current governmental systems that have this partitioning concept sans the ``vote into power'' bit---observe how in some governmental systems, there is an upper house and a lower house, where the upper house are either made up of hereditary posts and the lower house is made up of members who were voted into power. It would appear then that the innate local versus global optimum bias is side stepped by a clear partitioning of the two interest groups---the upper house, being of ``noble descent'', seem more clearly suited to handle ``the big stuff'', while the lower house, being made of people voted into power, represent the localised interests. But of course, this just introduces a new type of bias that is a little hard to quantify; are those of the ``high born'' really more interested in the country's welfare?
But anyway, ruminations aside, political systems, in spite of the many efforts to rigourise them, are still products of an organic system that is not easily explained with the cold logic of empirical science. Even as we speak, even as I utter things here, the perceptions of how governance is enacted is still a hotly debated topic in both the academic and practical fields. I suppose only time will tell if what we are doing are indeed correct enough to stave off any major polirical catastrophes.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
2 More Cents
*cracks knuckles*
So, not too long ago, Singapore just underwent yet another General Election. This time round, there were a few surprises, and quite a few upsets, and the overall activity level relating to this has been on a high. When it comes to politics of course, everyone has something to say, and I am of no exception.
However, I am just going to say a few general observations here about the whole event as opposed to picking on any particular person or party to lambast.
All in all, I think that this General Election has done its job of rekindling the citizens' interest in the policy making process for this country. That alone is a very important outcome---the citizens no longer take in the public policies passively, and the government enlightened to the direction and census that the citizens' sociology/psychology are heading. While many see this as a major clash between the ruling party and the opposition, it is more like the stage where the blossoming of ideas are allowed to proceed relatively unhindered, ideas that are thought of by the people, for the people.
Each time a major shift in political power occurs anywhere in the world, it is often marked by an increased access of communication technologies. First it was the postal system, then the radio and telegram, followed by television, and now, the Internet. The purpose of communication technology is to have an outreach from the political participants to the voters; it serves as a means of showcasing the party's ideologies and political agenda in a mass consumable manner.
But what just happened in Singapore was hardly a major shift in political power; it is more akin of a nascent mixed pot of political ideologies and cooperative antagonism. Of course the ruling party came back to power---this is just an outcome that is really improbable to not occur. But we also see the rise of how the opposition political parties generate more appeal to their causes through a closer interaction with the tech-savvy man-on-the-street. Singapore is not like the US with a whole slew of higly complicated, larger scaled constituencies where the needs of one constituency differs drastically from another---we are so physically small that whatever policies that may come out will affect everyone sooner or later, whether they like it or not. In that sense then, any form of outreach has a tendency to affect a much larger proportion of people than it is to be expected.
I have seen normally apathetic people literally take to the streets, shouting slogans, holding up posters, with some even pledging to join an opposition party should the ruling party return to power. All these fervour over this country's politics is something that we will all learn to appreciate in time to come. As the older voters fall off the register through their eventual demise, we will find that we, the progeny, will inherit the system left behind, and if we cannot even convince ourselves to care about what is going on, we will be in dire straits indeed.
There is, however, a cause of concern regarding the recent General Election that may abate itself as the term passes. While I was expecting a logos-centric argument for all the political parties involved during the campaigning, what I found at the end of the day was that the pathos-styled arguments were the more prevalent. Even in this time and age, where we boast literacy rates high in the nineties, we find that the only way the political parties seem to want to connect to us is through the pathos perspective. I find this very odd and disconcerting, since it gives the entire outcome of the General Election very dark undertones---all those years of education and understanding of the rational aspects of an argument are all useless as we end up being swayed by words meant to pull at our emotions. I'm not saying that pathos arguments are bad; I am saying that it is ironic that that form of argumentation is still the dominant form.
Perhaps we have not really progressed much in mentality since forty/fifty years ago.
So, not too long ago, Singapore just underwent yet another General Election. This time round, there were a few surprises, and quite a few upsets, and the overall activity level relating to this has been on a high. When it comes to politics of course, everyone has something to say, and I am of no exception.
However, I am just going to say a few general observations here about the whole event as opposed to picking on any particular person or party to lambast.
All in all, I think that this General Election has done its job of rekindling the citizens' interest in the policy making process for this country. That alone is a very important outcome---the citizens no longer take in the public policies passively, and the government enlightened to the direction and census that the citizens' sociology/psychology are heading. While many see this as a major clash between the ruling party and the opposition, it is more like the stage where the blossoming of ideas are allowed to proceed relatively unhindered, ideas that are thought of by the people, for the people.
Each time a major shift in political power occurs anywhere in the world, it is often marked by an increased access of communication technologies. First it was the postal system, then the radio and telegram, followed by television, and now, the Internet. The purpose of communication technology is to have an outreach from the political participants to the voters; it serves as a means of showcasing the party's ideologies and political agenda in a mass consumable manner.
But what just happened in Singapore was hardly a major shift in political power; it is more akin of a nascent mixed pot of political ideologies and cooperative antagonism. Of course the ruling party came back to power---this is just an outcome that is really improbable to not occur. But we also see the rise of how the opposition political parties generate more appeal to their causes through a closer interaction with the tech-savvy man-on-the-street. Singapore is not like the US with a whole slew of higly complicated, larger scaled constituencies where the needs of one constituency differs drastically from another---we are so physically small that whatever policies that may come out will affect everyone sooner or later, whether they like it or not. In that sense then, any form of outreach has a tendency to affect a much larger proportion of people than it is to be expected.
I have seen normally apathetic people literally take to the streets, shouting slogans, holding up posters, with some even pledging to join an opposition party should the ruling party return to power. All these fervour over this country's politics is something that we will all learn to appreciate in time to come. As the older voters fall off the register through their eventual demise, we will find that we, the progeny, will inherit the system left behind, and if we cannot even convince ourselves to care about what is going on, we will be in dire straits indeed.
There is, however, a cause of concern regarding the recent General Election that may abate itself as the term passes. While I was expecting a logos-centric argument for all the political parties involved during the campaigning, what I found at the end of the day was that the pathos-styled arguments were the more prevalent. Even in this time and age, where we boast literacy rates high in the nineties, we find that the only way the political parties seem to want to connect to us is through the pathos perspective. I find this very odd and disconcerting, since it gives the entire outcome of the General Election very dark undertones---all those years of education and understanding of the rational aspects of an argument are all useless as we end up being swayed by words meant to pull at our emotions. I'm not saying that pathos arguments are bad; I am saying that it is ironic that that form of argumentation is still the dominant form.
Perhaps we have not really progressed much in mentality since forty/fifty years ago.
Monday, May 09, 2011
Jungle Bashing Fun
It's strange that when I had an official opportunity to do lots of jungle bashing, I wasn't able, and now that I'm off the whole NSF system, I'm actually actively picking jungles to bash.
No, that wasn't a mistake---I have been picking jungles to bash through just for the sheer fun of seeking some geocache that is located right in the middle of the said jungle.
Jungle bashing from a civilian perspective has a different allure from that of military jungle bashing, for sure. For one, when you are bashing through the jungle in the capacity of a military personnel, you are there for a serious purpose, with heightened tension from any potential enemy attack. But when you are jungle bashing as a civilian, you get to actually enjoy the terrain challenges that the jungle throws at you. Of course, I use the word ``enjoy'' in a loose sense---it takes a certain type of person to find it pleasurable enough to go through a jungle to actually do it.
To me, the allure of jungle bashing comes from the near primal nature of it all. There is nothing more visceral than facing nature itself---all the theories and what-not mean nothing in the face of the realities of the undergrowth, the thorns, the humidity, the chirping of the cicadas, the sloshing of the mud, the crunching of leaves and the like. Maybe I am seeking some sense of balance in life, having work and its multitude of complications on one side of the balance, and health with wellness on the other side of the balance. A tricky position indeed.
I wouldn't be very surprised if I get more and more adventurous the older I get. One needs inspiration for stories after all.
No, that wasn't a mistake---I have been picking jungles to bash through just for the sheer fun of seeking some geocache that is located right in the middle of the said jungle.
Jungle bashing from a civilian perspective has a different allure from that of military jungle bashing, for sure. For one, when you are bashing through the jungle in the capacity of a military personnel, you are there for a serious purpose, with heightened tension from any potential enemy attack. But when you are jungle bashing as a civilian, you get to actually enjoy the terrain challenges that the jungle throws at you. Of course, I use the word ``enjoy'' in a loose sense---it takes a certain type of person to find it pleasurable enough to go through a jungle to actually do it.
To me, the allure of jungle bashing comes from the near primal nature of it all. There is nothing more visceral than facing nature itself---all the theories and what-not mean nothing in the face of the realities of the undergrowth, the thorns, the humidity, the chirping of the cicadas, the sloshing of the mud, the crunching of leaves and the like. Maybe I am seeking some sense of balance in life, having work and its multitude of complications on one side of the balance, and health with wellness on the other side of the balance. A tricky position indeed.
I wouldn't be very surprised if I get more and more adventurous the older I get. One needs inspiration for stories after all.
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Some Myth Debunking...
Heh. I know that my blog isn't a very famous one, but it's still a good conduit for me to vent out my thoughts on issues that I see these days.
One of the questions that some teenagers might be thinking about is this: which scholarship should I go on for my further studies? In a somewhat tangential method to address this questions, let me try to debunk some myths that people might have about their future and the steps that they are taking now.
Myth #1: You must study very hard and get into a good school to go far.
This myth is tricky. The underlying assumption is that somehow an association with a good school's name/reputation will give you that leverage to push you further in life, particularly in the case of careers. Well, reality isn't that clear cut---the reputation of the school can only get you that far; everything else is up to your own abilities and attitude. To put it in a blunt way, the reputation of the school can get you that initial interview, but if you have absolutely nothing else to show for, you still won't get that job or dream career.
Myth #2: You will learn all that you need for your career in university/college.
This cannot be further from the truth. Strangely enough, you will learn some new things from university/college, but what you end up doing for your job/career is more related to what your interests are as opposed to what you were taught in school. Just look at how many engineering-trained students who branch out into other domains like business, finance and even the Arts---were they taught all these in school? While university/college provides you with the opportunity to mingle with similarly minded people (thus making the environment more conducive for learning), to think that the college education is all that is needed is pure foolishness.
Myth #3: A scholarship is a must because of the prestige.
Ho ho ho... if one takes up the scholarship only because of the associated prestige, one is going to be in big big trouble! A scholarship is a contract---when you take it up, you are making a promise to whoever is sponsoring the scholarship that you will meet their requirements, and if need be, repay them by working for them at the conclusion of your studies. So, if you are some nubile eighteen-year-old considering if you should take up some scholarship somewhere, you should really really really think carefully if you are wholly comfortable with the conditions stipulated in the scholarship contract. If your only reason is ``for the prestige'', then don't bother---you will not be happy at the end of the day.
Myth #4: My career will be fixed from the day I graduate from college.
For this myth... it depends on a lot of factors. If you already know what you want, this is easily disproven, but one must always be prepared for changes. The only constant thing about the world is that it is always changing, and to think that you will be in the same career for more than a decade can be a little unrealistic. So continual improvement and self-discovery of what one can and cannot do are necessary to survive in this world. Formal education can only get one that far---everything beyond that is up to one's attitude and aptitude.
Okay, I'm getting a little annoyed at this exposition, so I will stop here. Till next time.
One of the questions that some teenagers might be thinking about is this: which scholarship should I go on for my further studies? In a somewhat tangential method to address this questions, let me try to debunk some myths that people might have about their future and the steps that they are taking now.
Myth #1: You must study very hard and get into a good school to go far.
This myth is tricky. The underlying assumption is that somehow an association with a good school's name/reputation will give you that leverage to push you further in life, particularly in the case of careers. Well, reality isn't that clear cut---the reputation of the school can only get you that far; everything else is up to your own abilities and attitude. To put it in a blunt way, the reputation of the school can get you that initial interview, but if you have absolutely nothing else to show for, you still won't get that job or dream career.
Myth #2: You will learn all that you need for your career in university/college.
This cannot be further from the truth. Strangely enough, you will learn some new things from university/college, but what you end up doing for your job/career is more related to what your interests are as opposed to what you were taught in school. Just look at how many engineering-trained students who branch out into other domains like business, finance and even the Arts---were they taught all these in school? While university/college provides you with the opportunity to mingle with similarly minded people (thus making the environment more conducive for learning), to think that the college education is all that is needed is pure foolishness.
Myth #3: A scholarship is a must because of the prestige.
Ho ho ho... if one takes up the scholarship only because of the associated prestige, one is going to be in big big trouble! A scholarship is a contract---when you take it up, you are making a promise to whoever is sponsoring the scholarship that you will meet their requirements, and if need be, repay them by working for them at the conclusion of your studies. So, if you are some nubile eighteen-year-old considering if you should take up some scholarship somewhere, you should really really really think carefully if you are wholly comfortable with the conditions stipulated in the scholarship contract. If your only reason is ``for the prestige'', then don't bother---you will not be happy at the end of the day.
Myth #4: My career will be fixed from the day I graduate from college.
For this myth... it depends on a lot of factors. If you already know what you want, this is easily disproven, but one must always be prepared for changes. The only constant thing about the world is that it is always changing, and to think that you will be in the same career for more than a decade can be a little unrealistic. So continual improvement and self-discovery of what one can and cannot do are necessary to survive in this world. Formal education can only get one that far---everything beyond that is up to one's attitude and aptitude.
Okay, I'm getting a little annoyed at this exposition, so I will stop here. Till next time.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Adventures in 20 Days
Twenty days have passed since the last entry here, and while I don't know who is really following this blog, I think I might owe my hidden audience an update or two ever so often.
Much can occur in twenty days, and it is of no difference now. Over the last twenty days, I have done the following (in no particular order):
I think I believe more in myself now than ever. I think I no longer harbour a strong need to have someone who is there for me; I think that I am starting to understand what it means to be a strong individual. It's funny to think that I need such a long time to finally realise what many folks have understood for a long time. In any case, it is a nice reprieve from all the unhappiness that I have been having over the last few years over this; while it is a little contrary to my overall being (a normal thing, considering that I'm a man of walking contradictions), it is still a sound proposition to myself. There is really no need to be reliant on a special other when one is strong enough. And thanks to the amazing powers of gender roles in society, it becomes much easier to convince myself that I am on the right course.
Of course, the true acid test of whether my mettle is stronger is when the time comes and I fly off for my next round of studies. Isolation has a strange way of amplifying all sorts of latent negative emotions that are absent when one has a support network of friends.
Much can occur in twenty days, and it is of no difference now. Over the last twenty days, I have done the following (in no particular order):
- Met up with the ``new generation'' geocachers at an event
- Bought a new 箫 and 笛子
- Found a long lost geocache that was stumping the usual finders
- Got a first to find on a puzzle cache for my geocache centurial find
- Got assaulted by red ants on bare skin
- Walked through a mini tunnel near a drain that runs through a building
- Walked along a mossy rock-infested shoreline towards cliffs at low tide
- Learnt more about dog breeds than I had cared to find out
- Bashed through two jungles in Singapore and breaking lock combinations of the logs of the geocache
- Got stung by something unknown
- Performed light ``field surgery'' to remove a thorn splinter in my thumb
- Made some break through in work
- Got spanners thrown at me for my studies
I think I believe more in myself now than ever. I think I no longer harbour a strong need to have someone who is there for me; I think that I am starting to understand what it means to be a strong individual. It's funny to think that I need such a long time to finally realise what many folks have understood for a long time. In any case, it is a nice reprieve from all the unhappiness that I have been having over the last few years over this; while it is a little contrary to my overall being (a normal thing, considering that I'm a man of walking contradictions), it is still a sound proposition to myself. There is really no need to be reliant on a special other when one is strong enough. And thanks to the amazing powers of gender roles in society, it becomes much easier to convince myself that I am on the right course.
Of course, the true acid test of whether my mettle is stronger is when the time comes and I fly off for my next round of studies. Isolation has a strange way of amplifying all sorts of latent negative emotions that are absent when one has a support network of friends.
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Taste of Failure...
What is the taste of failure? Is it completely bitter, or does it taste of forlornness as well? Is there any other thing that ``tastes'' worse than failure? Does anyone know?
Failure is something that most people strive to avoid, just because it is the representation of a lack of an achievement, and that it is also the manifestation of the supposed inability. Such a notion is so ingrained in the psyche that for the most part, everyone views failure in disdain.
But the truth is often more stranger than perception. While failure gives the most disgusting feeling of dread to almost everyone as a general rule of thumb and is almost universally scorned. the fact remains that failure is the only way that society as a whole progresses. Allow me to further illustrate this point.
The entire advancement of science as a knowledge system is based wholly on that of failure---each time a theory fails on a particular case, a new theory has to be concocted that will ``fix'' the broken theory. But if a theory has always been successful thus far, there is no guarantee that it is actually correct, since scientific theories are based largely on the principle of empiricism than induction as in mathematics; just because the theory works for the last large number of trials does not necessary mean that it will be simultaneously successful for the next trial, though we will, without loss of generality, assume from past verifications that it is still ``correct'' as far as we can tell for the foreseeable future.
So from the individual's perspective, failure is among the most distasteful of positions to be in, yet paradoxically, for the global good, we find that it is of an utmost necessity. This is not the first time we are seeing this phenomenon---I have talked about this some time ago regarding the optimisation problem, where the global optimum does not necessarily mean that every single individual comprising the group under study will benefit.
But of course, no one really wants to taste failure...
Failure is something that most people strive to avoid, just because it is the representation of a lack of an achievement, and that it is also the manifestation of the supposed inability. Such a notion is so ingrained in the psyche that for the most part, everyone views failure in disdain.
But the truth is often more stranger than perception. While failure gives the most disgusting feeling of dread to almost everyone as a general rule of thumb and is almost universally scorned. the fact remains that failure is the only way that society as a whole progresses. Allow me to further illustrate this point.
The entire advancement of science as a knowledge system is based wholly on that of failure---each time a theory fails on a particular case, a new theory has to be concocted that will ``fix'' the broken theory. But if a theory has always been successful thus far, there is no guarantee that it is actually correct, since scientific theories are based largely on the principle of empiricism than induction as in mathematics; just because the theory works for the last large number of trials does not necessary mean that it will be simultaneously successful for the next trial, though we will, without loss of generality, assume from past verifications that it is still ``correct'' as far as we can tell for the foreseeable future.
So from the individual's perspective, failure is among the most distasteful of positions to be in, yet paradoxically, for the global good, we find that it is of an utmost necessity. This is not the first time we are seeing this phenomenon---I have talked about this some time ago regarding the optimisation problem, where the global optimum does not necessarily mean that every single individual comprising the group under study will benefit.
But of course, no one really wants to taste failure...
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