As I write this today, I note that it has been two days since I have officially graduated [once again] from school. The experience was anything but satisfactory, and I think that now that things are effectively over, it is time to be a little more reflective of what had happened throughout the time that I had spent out here in UIUC.
I started the journey with a steely resolve to work hard, and to achieve what I sought to do. However, things started going downhill as time went on, and I could only attribute this to an impedence mismatch between idealism and reality. I could have pushed on through as hard as I could and be completely and absolutely defeated before pulling out, but I chose to bail early. I had done some soul searching and realised that the price to pay for that stubbornness of completing what I started was something that I was unwilling to pay.
For you see, during the time period that I was here, I had effectively lost a lot of whatever humanity I managed to cobble together during my years back at CMU and then I2R. I decided that losing all of my humanity was really too high a price for a dream of obtaining a PhD, which, as I keep on thinking now, is a mismatch with what is essentially me.
I am a generalist. This has been established since forever ago---I was never particularly good in one thing, but am competent in multiple sometimes unrelated domains. My strength lies in the ability to grasp things from multiple different perspectives, and not to be a highly narrow focus the way a PhD programme is supposed to train you to become. In spite of all the idealism of how insights and inspirations are cross-disciplinary, my little foray into the world of the PhD has shown me that any form of cross-disciplinary notion is at best a superficial acceptance of the inter-dimensional linkages of the various fields of science---the truth is that each field has its own dogma that needs to be implicitly satisfied before anything can even be considered legitimate. This is the limitation that comes from the peer-review process that scientific research is based on. A ground-breaking idea or anything that challenges widely accepted beliefs is less readily accepted than one that is an incremental build-up, yet for a PhD thesis the incremental build-up has to be sufficiently large that it can be ``considered'' to be a new piece of knowledge. The problem then is the subjectivity of what it means to be of a sufficiently large delta, and this problem is akin to that of defining pornography---no one can give a precise definition, and yet, when given an instance of something that satisfies the requirements (of either pornography or a large enough delta of work), a majority can declare the correct classification.
Heh. That last paragraph feels almost as though I were resentful of my experience. In many ways, I am. I resented the daily deconstruction of my psyche, I resented the lack of progress of my research. I resented trying to go against nature, an ongoing war that I thought I could win given my previous successes at the other skirmishes.
But the humanity, or rather, the loss of my humanity. As the days went on, I grew increasingly withdrawn from interacting with people. I only interacted with people superficially, only wanting to know them from the activities that I partook with them, and not wanting to develop anything more than being an acquaintance. I didn't have the time to do music, couldn't join a band because all the bands here were actually ``serious'' and not like the Kiltie Band whose purpose was to allow amateurs to play and enjoy music. Jujitsu helped in letting me forget about the loss of humanity as I channelled my angst towards physical exertion, but redirection was merely a temporary diversion and not a solution.
So I came here with dreams and resolve, and leave with a general disdain for my own field, and an increasingly low impression on people. It is with that sort of emotion that I have graduated with. The last semester was slightly better, I met with a few people who I can call friends, and have part of my humanity slightly restored. But the damage to my psyche during this period of life is more or less permanent, just like all the little bruises and cracks that I had sustained over the years.
Who knows what the working world will bring.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Sunday, March 03, 2013
``I'll give you my love...''
Something that a friend of mine posted on Facebook that I thought was cute:
Yes, it is morbid and disturbing, but really funny!
Don't watch it if you can't stomach mildly visceral humour.
Yes, it is morbid and disturbing, but really funny!
Don't watch it if you can't stomach mildly visceral humour.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Again on Helping Others...
T'is funny you know, when someone does something for you when you are one of those people who are used to doing things for others. Especially if you are used to not being appreciated by those whom you help, those who think that it is somehow your duty to help them. It's a weird feeling indeed.
I used to like helping people. I think that I probably have visited this perspective a long time ago here, but to date, I cannot really remember if that was true. I said ``used to'' because these days I find that it is almost never in my interest to be helping anyone. It has gotten to the point where the whole affair can only be described as being rather sordid and meaningless, and at times, a complete waste of my time.
``Why the sudden bitterness?'' one might ask. It isn't so much of bitterness but a re-realisation that the world is still operating on a selfish principle, where everyone will do anything and everything under the motivations of self-interest, and if it so happens that it can benefit others as well, it just a little bit better and somewhat more morally justifiable. Sometimes I wonder just how naive I am, in spite of living for more than a quarter of a century by this point, that I keep forgetting all these little insights I glean about the sick underbelly of society.
I used to like helping people. I think that I probably have visited this perspective a long time ago here, but to date, I cannot really remember if that was true. I said ``used to'' because these days I find that it is almost never in my interest to be helping anyone. It has gotten to the point where the whole affair can only be described as being rather sordid and meaningless, and at times, a complete waste of my time.
``Why the sudden bitterness?'' one might ask. It isn't so much of bitterness but a re-realisation that the world is still operating on a selfish principle, where everyone will do anything and everything under the motivations of self-interest, and if it so happens that it can benefit others as well, it just a little bit better and somewhat more morally justifiable. Sometimes I wonder just how naive I am, in spite of living for more than a quarter of a century by this point, that I keep forgetting all these little insights I glean about the sick underbelly of society.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
The Radio...
Something absolutely random:I heard this song back in... 2001 I think when a group of Girl Guides were training some mass dance thing near where I was working on some homework. The hook of the chorus was too strong to forget, and now, 12+ years later I managed to find it.
Funny how memory works huh.
Funny how memory works huh.
On Failures
Why is it that people like writing about success stories? What does one actually learn from a success story when it is a statistical anomaly than anything else, since each success is characterised by hundreds if not thousands of failures prior to it happening? Maybe it is because there is a certain sense of an ego, that talking about successes hides the fact that one had failed many more times than that one success would show. Maybe it is because of the notion of ``reputation'', where one's worth is only measured by the successes that one has as opposed to the number of lessons learnt from the failures that one made.
I think that for a long while now, I have been writing here from the perspective of the failure. I rarely write about successes---as I had said, they are too few statistically to be worth any useful information, and even in the cases where the success stories are well-written, tend to be ego-inflating pieces than anything that is actually lesson worthy. Why should I write about my success? Why should I read about so-and-so's success when I cannot learn anything useful from it? All I can learn from their success story is a particular configuration of factors that led to their success, factors that may be hard to replicate, or in the worst case, factors that become clichéd that one can no longer repeat the success for oneself. Think about the last time you've read about a success story; I'll just pick a random one, the rise of Facebook as an illustrative example. So okay, you learn about the formula of a ``social network'' that Facebook propounds, and then what happens? You see many people trying to copy and use the same formula as a way of creating their own social network, in a bid to mimic the success that Facebook had. Some will be successful, of course, but many will fail. But none will ever outshine that of the initial proponent---none will ever outdo the success that Facebook has.
What has this got to do with anything?
Think about how Science works. I used to have a romantic view on how Science was all about the advancement of human knowledge, and how scientists were working relentlessly towards new discoveries that can benefit all of us in one way or another. Then I got exposed to an aspect of the real process and didn't like what I find. It might be that the scientists are still conforming to my initial views on development and advancement, but what they have been publishing appears contrary to the principles of the scientific method. Again we find that only success stories are published; few if any of the failures actually make it into a journal or conference paper. It is quite sad [and hypocritical] really, since there is a lot of wasted work as everyone keeps repeating the same damn mistakes and failures only because those who had initially made them did not document them for the rest of the community to learn of. I think that this is what gets me more than anything else while I was still apprenticing to be a researcher, that so much time and effort is wasted on this. I value efficiency over many things, and to have to spend so much time failing is just too much to bear on my conscience. And that is one of the reasons why I gave up.
But back to something less heavy. Why all the talk about writing about failures then? Because I can write more here. I doubt anyone who is still reading my blog wants to hear of my successes only---for one there are few of those, and for two it makes me sounds like a much larger egomaniac than I really am (I'm not really an egomaniac). So I will write about failures and accept that I am still human, in spite of my chosen handle and other things. Maybe someone out there who chances upon my blog(s) can learn from my failures and be successful in their own right---it'll be nice to know if that has happened.
Rant out.
I think that for a long while now, I have been writing here from the perspective of the failure. I rarely write about successes---as I had said, they are too few statistically to be worth any useful information, and even in the cases where the success stories are well-written, tend to be ego-inflating pieces than anything that is actually lesson worthy. Why should I write about my success? Why should I read about so-and-so's success when I cannot learn anything useful from it? All I can learn from their success story is a particular configuration of factors that led to their success, factors that may be hard to replicate, or in the worst case, factors that become clichéd that one can no longer repeat the success for oneself. Think about the last time you've read about a success story; I'll just pick a random one, the rise of Facebook as an illustrative example. So okay, you learn about the formula of a ``social network'' that Facebook propounds, and then what happens? You see many people trying to copy and use the same formula as a way of creating their own social network, in a bid to mimic the success that Facebook had. Some will be successful, of course, but many will fail. But none will ever outshine that of the initial proponent---none will ever outdo the success that Facebook has.
What has this got to do with anything?
Think about how Science works. I used to have a romantic view on how Science was all about the advancement of human knowledge, and how scientists were working relentlessly towards new discoveries that can benefit all of us in one way or another. Then I got exposed to an aspect of the real process and didn't like what I find. It might be that the scientists are still conforming to my initial views on development and advancement, but what they have been publishing appears contrary to the principles of the scientific method. Again we find that only success stories are published; few if any of the failures actually make it into a journal or conference paper. It is quite sad [and hypocritical] really, since there is a lot of wasted work as everyone keeps repeating the same damn mistakes and failures only because those who had initially made them did not document them for the rest of the community to learn of. I think that this is what gets me more than anything else while I was still apprenticing to be a researcher, that so much time and effort is wasted on this. I value efficiency over many things, and to have to spend so much time failing is just too much to bear on my conscience. And that is one of the reasons why I gave up.
But back to something less heavy. Why all the talk about writing about failures then? Because I can write more here. I doubt anyone who is still reading my blog wants to hear of my successes only---for one there are few of those, and for two it makes me sounds like a much larger egomaniac than I really am (I'm not really an egomaniac). So I will write about failures and accept that I am still human, in spite of my chosen handle and other things. Maybe someone out there who chances upon my blog(s) can learn from my failures and be successful in their own right---it'll be nice to know if that has happened.
Rant out.
Sunday, February 03, 2013
More Cool Gifts
So last evening I hung out with Corbin and Alisa because I was getting rather tired/bored of eating alone at home for dinner. They lived near to Siebel Centre, so it wasn't all that inconvenient to drop by and hang out. What amused/amazed me was that they actually got a surprise present for me for my birth anniversary. Check it out:
There are two pairs of Injinji toe-socks to go with my Five-Fingers (and huaraches, but really it is too bloody cold to be wearing those), and a long-sleeved technical shirt. I am positively delighted at this---this is going to make winter training less annoying and scary. Alisa made Japanese-styled fried chicken with spices and a nice tofu dish to go with rice, and we washed it all down with Guinness. I think that these days I'm starting to do less of Jack Daniels and more of Guinness; no idea why though. Maybe hard liquor isn't the thing for me any more?
But yeah, I don't really have much to update except for the shout-out to Corbin and Alisa for the wonderful birthday gift.
I'm a little behind in terms of training because of the weather conditions. For some reason, the weather for the past few days tended to be... awkward, to say the least. There were a few uncharacteristically warm [but windy] days which were followed by sub-zero temperatures with winds up to 5 m/s. In short, horrible weather. But with the gift, maybe I can do better for this week.
Till the next update.
But yeah, I don't really have much to update except for the shout-out to Corbin and Alisa for the wonderful birthday gift.
I'm a little behind in terms of training because of the weather conditions. For some reason, the weather for the past few days tended to be... awkward, to say the least. There were a few uncharacteristically warm [but windy] days which were followed by sub-zero temperatures with winds up to 5 m/s. In short, horrible weather. But with the gift, maybe I can do better for this week.
Till the next update.
Friday, February 01, 2013
Curry!
So, the first thing is that for some reason, Blogger fubared the width of the text area used to enter the blog entry, so I have no sense of how much I'm writing any more. I don't really like writing in a space where I cannot actually visually store the entire paragraph or extent of the paragraph in one place---it makes it really hard to see just what the heck I am writing. Feedback has been sent, but I suspect nothing will be done. But this unscheduled rant is not what I want to talk about today.
So some time back, I wrote that YT sent me a stack of instant curry mixes. A few days ago, I finally broke open one pack to make a pot of tasty chicken curry to share with my house mate John. We had got a pack of chicken thighs and russet potatoes during the weekend grocery run and I just followed the instruction and put the food together. There was a small snafu involving thick chicken thighs that are not so well-cooked, but it was easily rectified through some additional cooking time massaged with additional slits made into the meat of the thighs. And the end result was this:
It's one nice big pot of delicious curry! I ladled out a bowl of it for myself (John did the same for himself too), and here's how that looks like in bowl form.
Man, even as I am writing this, I'm starting to get hungry just looking at the pictures.
Anyway, notice the fork and spoon on the empty plate? Those are actually foldable cutlery that I got from the Mammoth Cave souvenir shop. Unlike my titanium spork, the foldable cutlety separates into combinations of more regular silverware, except for chopsticks. I usually eat stuff with my spork, but since I'm lazy when it comes to eating chicken thighs, I needed the fork and spoon combination to be wielded separately, which explains the change of choice of cutlery.
Alright, I'm going to grab an apple to satiate that hunger and then sleep. Till the next update.
So some time back, I wrote that YT sent me a stack of instant curry mixes. A few days ago, I finally broke open one pack to make a pot of tasty chicken curry to share with my house mate John. We had got a pack of chicken thighs and russet potatoes during the weekend grocery run and I just followed the instruction and put the food together. There was a small snafu involving thick chicken thighs that are not so well-cooked, but it was easily rectified through some additional cooking time massaged with additional slits made into the meat of the thighs. And the end result was this:
Anyway, notice the fork and spoon on the empty plate? Those are actually foldable cutlery that I got from the Mammoth Cave souvenir shop. Unlike my titanium spork, the foldable cutlety separates into combinations of more regular silverware, except for chopsticks. I usually eat stuff with my spork, but since I'm lazy when it comes to eating chicken thighs, I needed the fork and spoon combination to be wielded separately, which explains the change of choice of cutlery.
Alright, I'm going to grab an apple to satiate that hunger and then sleep. Till the next update.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Birth Anniversary Aftermath Report
It has been roughly a week since the anniversary of my birth and there is of course much rejoicing at a most private level. I suppose I should write a little about what happened and what-not because I promised it earlier in my thank-you note to all the people who had an impact on my life.
Prior to everything happening, I had decided to get myself a gift as per tradition. People who have known me for at least the last couple of years would realise that I'm a big fan of the e-ink readers, preferably something that is bigger than the puny 6-inch form factor. Eirian II was a recent replacement for Eirian who had aged over the course of the years. In general, I'm not a big fan of tablet form-factors that are not e-ink for several reasons: discomfort in reading under either bright or dark conditions, low battery life and most importantly, lousy resolution. So when I realised that the Nexus 10 existed with a whopping 2560×1600 resolution, I knew it was time to plonk some hard-earned money down to get a tablet for myself, not to replace Eirian II but to support her with a coloured high resolution sibling for things that are not as readable on e-ink displays. An example of such files are comics or graphic novels---the colour that is used doesn't look that good when we strip out the hue and saturation information. Here's a quick picture of the Nexus 10:
Lovely isn't she? The character that is gracing the wallpaper of my Nexus 10 is Death of the Endless, one the loveliest and pragmatic personifications of Death I've ever seen, prompting the joke of ``Yeah, I stare at Death every day on my screens''.
While I have named almost every device I own, somehow I can't bring myself to naming the Nexus 10 (or even my Google Nexus phone either). I'm not sure why---maybe I see these devices as tools more than friends per se, which is weird. Maybe I need to devise a new naming scheme for such tools, I mean, even my Neo has a name (Eiko). I can't call the Nexus 10 ``Eirian III'' simply because it's not a replacement but a sibling. This will prove tricky...
I can't remember how many years it has been since I've kept my birth date hidden on the Facebook. One thing is for certain though: only those who truly care truly remember. Folks like RX, Cui, Victor, JW and YT (and my mother of course) who gave me their best wishes on this day of rememberance. This gives me a fuzzier feeling than having half of the people on my Facebook ``friend list'' spamming my wall with two-word and three-word posts. YT even sent me a nice box of Singapore-styled curry spices, which gives me a strong incentive to actually get potatoes and chicken from the supermarket the next time I go grocery shopping---curry in the US tends to be watery and lacking in the right kind of ``kick''.
It's not that the curry here sucks, it's just that it is dominated by the Thai-styled and American-styled curries. It's hard to find something more of a cross between South East Asian and Chinese cooking that is so predominant in Singapore.
But those are of course the physical gifts that I received. There are other more interesting things that happened. John treated me to a dinner at Tang Dynasty restaurant in Urbana without knowing which day my birthday was (he only knew the month, which was of course my intention overall). The food there was decent but not fantastic, and we both agreed that it was definitely one of those places that we should just try once to have said that we have been there and then find cheaper places for food. =P
On the actual day itself, I had actually arranged with Janet to have dinner at Alexander's Steakhouse, a family-style restaurant-grill-bar north east of campus in Champaign. Ever since Cedar brought me there to eat about a year or so back, I've fallen in love with the thick slabs of steak that they had to offer, and wanted to go there to eat once again. Janet had a car and so it was an easy enough appointment to set up. Well, of course I neglected to inform her that it was my birthday; I don't reveal things like that because it generally makes people feel all uncomfortable and compelled to do strange things like agonising about gifts and what-not---I'm more interested in the company than what gift they are getting. Anyway, we had an enjoyable dinner at Alexander's, and Janet was amazed/confused/shocked that it was my birthday, and that I could finish up the 20 oz steak and that she could finish her 16 oz steak and still walk after the fact. Easily the best dinner I've had in a while. =)
For some reason, I just enjoy food. For the rest of the week, I ended up eating sashimi and sushi at different places (oh my poor poor wallet) and had an enjoyable extended celebration of my birthday, without drawing too much attention from people. Life is good that way.
And now, a new week begins, and we are back to the regular schedule of life. Till the next update.
Prior to everything happening, I had decided to get myself a gift as per tradition. People who have known me for at least the last couple of years would realise that I'm a big fan of the e-ink readers, preferably something that is bigger than the puny 6-inch form factor. Eirian II was a recent replacement for Eirian who had aged over the course of the years. In general, I'm not a big fan of tablet form-factors that are not e-ink for several reasons: discomfort in reading under either bright or dark conditions, low battery life and most importantly, lousy resolution. So when I realised that the Nexus 10 existed with a whopping 2560×1600 resolution, I knew it was time to plonk some hard-earned money down to get a tablet for myself, not to replace Eirian II but to support her with a coloured high resolution sibling for things that are not as readable on e-ink displays. An example of such files are comics or graphic novels---the colour that is used doesn't look that good when we strip out the hue and saturation information. Here's a quick picture of the Nexus 10:
While I have named almost every device I own, somehow I can't bring myself to naming the Nexus 10 (or even my Google Nexus phone either). I'm not sure why---maybe I see these devices as tools more than friends per se, which is weird. Maybe I need to devise a new naming scheme for such tools, I mean, even my Neo has a name (Eiko). I can't call the Nexus 10 ``Eirian III'' simply because it's not a replacement but a sibling. This will prove tricky...
I can't remember how many years it has been since I've kept my birth date hidden on the Facebook. One thing is for certain though: only those who truly care truly remember. Folks like RX, Cui, Victor, JW and YT (and my mother of course) who gave me their best wishes on this day of rememberance. This gives me a fuzzier feeling than having half of the people on my Facebook ``friend list'' spamming my wall with two-word and three-word posts. YT even sent me a nice box of Singapore-styled curry spices, which gives me a strong incentive to actually get potatoes and chicken from the supermarket the next time I go grocery shopping---curry in the US tends to be watery and lacking in the right kind of ``kick''.
But those are of course the physical gifts that I received. There are other more interesting things that happened. John treated me to a dinner at Tang Dynasty restaurant in Urbana without knowing which day my birthday was (he only knew the month, which was of course my intention overall). The food there was decent but not fantastic, and we both agreed that it was definitely one of those places that we should just try once to have said that we have been there and then find cheaper places for food. =P
On the actual day itself, I had actually arranged with Janet to have dinner at Alexander's Steakhouse, a family-style restaurant-grill-bar north east of campus in Champaign. Ever since Cedar brought me there to eat about a year or so back, I've fallen in love with the thick slabs of steak that they had to offer, and wanted to go there to eat once again. Janet had a car and so it was an easy enough appointment to set up. Well, of course I neglected to inform her that it was my birthday; I don't reveal things like that because it generally makes people feel all uncomfortable and compelled to do strange things like agonising about gifts and what-not---I'm more interested in the company than what gift they are getting. Anyway, we had an enjoyable dinner at Alexander's, and Janet was amazed/confused/shocked that it was my birthday, and that I could finish up the 20 oz steak and that she could finish her 16 oz steak and still walk after the fact. Easily the best dinner I've had in a while. =)
For some reason, I just enjoy food. For the rest of the week, I ended up eating sashimi and sushi at different places (oh my poor poor wallet) and had an enjoyable extended celebration of my birthday, without drawing too much attention from people. Life is good that way.
And now, a new week begins, and we are back to the regular schedule of life. Till the next update.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Thanks
On this day of my birth, I give thanks to the people who have made an impact in my life, be they positive or negative. I would say that I will not be the same without the different forces that pull and push me in various directions to shape me into who I am today.
This is a perfect age, perfect in the way the Greeks define that of numbers. The future is forever mutable and hopefully bright, and as I stand among the rubble that was last year, I see myself being a happier person in time to come. May this year be better than all the years I had.
As I near my third decade of existence, I cannot help but look back at the road that I had taken. I do not believe in destiny, thinking that perhaps in some small way I am always able to shape my future. This, I have believed for quite a while, but as one gets older, the confines of society start to demonstrate their power and cast doubts as to whether one could truly be as free as the wind and choose a life that they want.
No one lives forever, and I know I definitely won't. While young, I might have been destined for greatness or so they say, at this point in my life, I am seeing that greatness is no longer within grasp, for I have long since strayed from the so-called optimal path towards such an achievement. I wonder how people remain functional amidst such woeful realisations, and then discovered that their functionality comes from a self-imposed resignation that they are but a cog in the machinery that is humanity. And soon, I will be just another part of the Machine itself.
Maybe in the upcoming years I will lose much of my cynicism and return to a much happier state, but these are things that I do not know fully, since time is long and the fog of the future is still there. One does not make a decision that one does not understand---that is the order of things.
Perhaps I will write less cryptically when this day has passed on the things that I had done, as opposed to the aspirations that I have mumbled about here. Till the next update then.
This is a perfect age, perfect in the way the Greeks define that of numbers. The future is forever mutable and hopefully bright, and as I stand among the rubble that was last year, I see myself being a happier person in time to come. May this year be better than all the years I had.
As I near my third decade of existence, I cannot help but look back at the road that I had taken. I do not believe in destiny, thinking that perhaps in some small way I am always able to shape my future. This, I have believed for quite a while, but as one gets older, the confines of society start to demonstrate their power and cast doubts as to whether one could truly be as free as the wind and choose a life that they want.
No one lives forever, and I know I definitely won't. While young, I might have been destined for greatness or so they say, at this point in my life, I am seeing that greatness is no longer within grasp, for I have long since strayed from the so-called optimal path towards such an achievement. I wonder how people remain functional amidst such woeful realisations, and then discovered that their functionality comes from a self-imposed resignation that they are but a cog in the machinery that is humanity. And soon, I will be just another part of the Machine itself.
Maybe in the upcoming years I will lose much of my cynicism and return to a much happier state, but these are things that I do not know fully, since time is long and the fog of the future is still there. One does not make a decision that one does not understand---that is the order of things.
Perhaps I will write less cryptically when this day has passed on the things that I had done, as opposed to the aspirations that I have mumbled about here. Till the next update then.
Thursday, January 03, 2013
Quick Summary
So, a quick summary of what I had written in 2012:
That's an average of 0.34 pieces of writing a day, compared to 0.43 last year. Again, we see a general downward trend in the amount of leisurely writing I do, partly because I have been writing so much daily for my work/studies. Every day I write anything from 400 to 1000 words about the research work that I am doing, and really, at the end of it all, I just don't feel the need nor energy to write even more things.
Last year was quite a major turning point in my life---I started struggling even harder through my PhD programme in UIUC. It dominated most of my life to the point that I just had to give it up. Doing so meant that I had to deal with the aftermath of that. Will I regret this in the future? Perhaps not, but only time will tell if this is the best decision to make.
Other than that, 2012 was really quite uneventful. I wrote a fantasy story for my NaNoWriMo entry, something that I had never done before. I'm not particularly pleased with the ending as it felt rushed, so perhaps I might actually fix that during this year before November comes by again.
Well, that's all I have. Onward to a better tomorrow, I suppose.
- 57 poems posted here
- 66 essays/rants posted here
- 3 prose/stories posted here
- 1 NaNoWriMo winning entry available here
That's an average of 0.34 pieces of writing a day, compared to 0.43 last year. Again, we see a general downward trend in the amount of leisurely writing I do, partly because I have been writing so much daily for my work/studies. Every day I write anything from 400 to 1000 words about the research work that I am doing, and really, at the end of it all, I just don't feel the need nor energy to write even more things.
Last year was quite a major turning point in my life---I started struggling even harder through my PhD programme in UIUC. It dominated most of my life to the point that I just had to give it up. Doing so meant that I had to deal with the aftermath of that. Will I regret this in the future? Perhaps not, but only time will tell if this is the best decision to make.
Other than that, 2012 was really quite uneventful. I wrote a fantasy story for my NaNoWriMo entry, something that I had never done before. I'm not particularly pleased with the ending as it felt rushed, so perhaps I might actually fix that during this year before November comes by again.
Well, that's all I have. Onward to a better tomorrow, I suppose.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Damaged Goods
Alright, I promised an update before the usual end-of-the-year rant recounting the major episodes. This might prove to be a little problematic because of the temptation to simply make this the end-of-the-year rant.
School's finally out, and with good cheer too, up to a point. My journey out here in the midwest is as harrowing as running along a metal cable strung across the Grand Canyon. I made some friends [maybe], hurt myself plenty of times both physically and psychologically, and at this point, am pretty much unsure how I am supposed to be feeling internally, and also how to proceed externally. Long time followers of this humble blog are also well aware of my usual end-of-year afflictions with regards to the passage of time. With so much mess to sort out, this post might end up taking a while.
I've always had a mild case of misanthropy. I don't really like people, a learned response that took ten years to create during the ages of six to sixteen when my atopic skin was at its maximal level of nonsense. I tell you, people can be harsh and uncaring, deliberately drawing unnecessary attention to deficiencies as a part of making themselves feel better. More than ten years since then, the same conclusion can be drawn---people still like drawing unnecessary attention to one's deficiencies, as though one were not fully aware of the situation. But something more had developed in between that dark formative period and now; I still haven't figured out what it is. Suffice to say, my interactions with other fellow humans have felt shallow of late, and sometimes, even mildly manipulative. I don't think that I have had an honest heart-to-heart conversation with anyone for the past two to three years, only dragging myself out to say something only because a problem needed solution and there was no where else to run nor anyone else to go to.
``Friends'' is such a strange word. In this time and age where everyone can communicate effortlessly with anyone across long distances, what truly makes up a friendship? Is it a group of people you ``hang out'' with, or a group of people who share a common goal, or is it some other yet talked about definition? I see people, but I'm having a hard time trying to acknowledge them, if such a term exists. I meet many new people each day, but how many can I truly call ``friend''? I'm probably just belly-aching here, but among the rants there might be some truth. I think that as I progress through my life past thirty and beyond, I will have to wrestle with this issue more and more as everyone's life diverges greatly. Heck, I don't even know what my life is like a couple of years from now, let alone predict where the people I used to share a period of my life with will be. The Internet might have brought some people closer, but to me, it did nothing in drawing me closer to anyone.
Hurt. That seems to be a big part of this leg of my journey through this pitiable caricature of a life. I don't even want to count the number of physical injuries that I had taken the last couple of years alone, but psychologically and emotionally, I think there has been lasting damage. I no longer have much self-confidence, am happy to hide away as much as I can even to the point of eschewing an outright indignant defense where needed, and can no longer think properly of things of great importance, distrusting my instinct and my own judgement. Kudos to the process of the PhD... nothing else in life can traumatise oneself so fully psychologically, save being on the front lines in a battlefield. I used to think of myself as an intellectual---now I'm happy if I am smarter than a field potato. I used to see myself as being different from the legions of people out there; now I realise I am just the same, if only a little more rebellious, and therefore in need of getting put down lest I become a danger to myself or to others.
I am damaged goods. I wonder what will become of me.
The end-of-year afflictions are beginning, but strangely enough, I feel more numbed than anything else. The mind seems empty of thought and emotion, and I pass each day in a trance-like state, never really able to think because of a massive sharp pain that occurs in the left hemisphere. Sometimes I wonder if that's because I hit my head one time too many, but it's hard to tell short of a full medical examination, which I don't really have just cause to get (damn thing is expensive and stigma-generating---better to live in ignorance than to have knowledge of the underlying problems). New year's is just another date on the calendar, and my ``birthday'' (technically the birth anniversary) is just drawing a blank in my mind in terms of what I'm going to do on it. Overall, a very muted affair compared to the past.
Well, that's all the update I care to give for now. Maybe next time I will have more to say.
School's finally out, and with good cheer too, up to a point. My journey out here in the midwest is as harrowing as running along a metal cable strung across the Grand Canyon. I made some friends [maybe], hurt myself plenty of times both physically and psychologically, and at this point, am pretty much unsure how I am supposed to be feeling internally, and also how to proceed externally. Long time followers of this humble blog are also well aware of my usual end-of-year afflictions with regards to the passage of time. With so much mess to sort out, this post might end up taking a while.
I've always had a mild case of misanthropy. I don't really like people, a learned response that took ten years to create during the ages of six to sixteen when my atopic skin was at its maximal level of nonsense. I tell you, people can be harsh and uncaring, deliberately drawing unnecessary attention to deficiencies as a part of making themselves feel better. More than ten years since then, the same conclusion can be drawn---people still like drawing unnecessary attention to one's deficiencies, as though one were not fully aware of the situation. But something more had developed in between that dark formative period and now; I still haven't figured out what it is. Suffice to say, my interactions with other fellow humans have felt shallow of late, and sometimes, even mildly manipulative. I don't think that I have had an honest heart-to-heart conversation with anyone for the past two to three years, only dragging myself out to say something only because a problem needed solution and there was no where else to run nor anyone else to go to.
``Friends'' is such a strange word. In this time and age where everyone can communicate effortlessly with anyone across long distances, what truly makes up a friendship? Is it a group of people you ``hang out'' with, or a group of people who share a common goal, or is it some other yet talked about definition? I see people, but I'm having a hard time trying to acknowledge them, if such a term exists. I meet many new people each day, but how many can I truly call ``friend''? I'm probably just belly-aching here, but among the rants there might be some truth. I think that as I progress through my life past thirty and beyond, I will have to wrestle with this issue more and more as everyone's life diverges greatly. Heck, I don't even know what my life is like a couple of years from now, let alone predict where the people I used to share a period of my life with will be. The Internet might have brought some people closer, but to me, it did nothing in drawing me closer to anyone.
Hurt. That seems to be a big part of this leg of my journey through this pitiable caricature of a life. I don't even want to count the number of physical injuries that I had taken the last couple of years alone, but psychologically and emotionally, I think there has been lasting damage. I no longer have much self-confidence, am happy to hide away as much as I can even to the point of eschewing an outright indignant defense where needed, and can no longer think properly of things of great importance, distrusting my instinct and my own judgement. Kudos to the process of the PhD... nothing else in life can traumatise oneself so fully psychologically, save being on the front lines in a battlefield. I used to think of myself as an intellectual---now I'm happy if I am smarter than a field potato. I used to see myself as being different from the legions of people out there; now I realise I am just the same, if only a little more rebellious, and therefore in need of getting put down lest I become a danger to myself or to others.
I am damaged goods. I wonder what will become of me.
The end-of-year afflictions are beginning, but strangely enough, I feel more numbed than anything else. The mind seems empty of thought and emotion, and I pass each day in a trance-like state, never really able to think because of a massive sharp pain that occurs in the left hemisphere. Sometimes I wonder if that's because I hit my head one time too many, but it's hard to tell short of a full medical examination, which I don't really have just cause to get (damn thing is expensive and stigma-generating---better to live in ignorance than to have knowledge of the underlying problems). New year's is just another date on the calendar, and my ``birthday'' (technically the birth anniversary) is just drawing a blank in my mind in terms of what I'm going to do on it. Overall, a very muted affair compared to the past.
Well, that's all the update I care to give for now. Maybe next time I will have more to say.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Content-less Bump
Hang on to your hats---I'm alive, just a little pre-occupied. I will write something here before my usual end-of-the-year rant.
Monday, November 12, 2012
God Complex
Ahead of the yearly reflection on my life and writing, I can already say what I feel about what has happened in my life thus far. It can easily be reduced to a single word, really: suckage. Yes it sucks, it sucks beyond what I might be expecting (which wasn't really much to begin with but still), and I have every reason to believe that it will suck more.
I think that in many ways, this year can be classified as the Year Of Amazingly Bad Choices Whose Consequences Are Haunting Me. I've had to make a couple of really hard decisions, most of them done at the breaking point of my personal sanity and rationality, all with dastardly consequences whose ramifications I cannot see completely yet, since they have been lying beyond my horizon of understanding. I had been rendered increasingly miserable over the last year or so being here in the middle of nowhere, realising more than ever that I am a foreigner in a foreign land, surrounded by even more foreign foreigners than before. I've always thought of myself as being fairly immune to the whole racism nonsense, but given my experiences here so far, I think that is no longer true, partly because of the repeated actions of the few who don't seem to realise what they are doing.
But cryptoxenophobia aside, I keep feeling that I have been making rather bad life choices over the last six years of my life. Deciding to try out intimate relationships have left me emotionally broken with a hollow shell, deciding to to take on a PhD has left me intellectually broken with a permanent migraine in my head, deciding to do martial arts has made me more aware of all kinds of new types of injuries that I had never even heard of. But among the three, I've not really given up on my martial arts, not just yet, though I'm currently in a restive period to recover from all the random injuries that had occurred here and there because of stupid circumstances unrelated to martial arts.
Yes, you've heard it here. I've given up on intimate relationships and my PhD. Shouldn't be a surprise, really. I think that it has been pretty obvious considering my general affect over the last year or so. I don't even know how I even manage to be around people given that I find my connections with most of them so superficial I might as well be manipulating them like a true sociopath does, you know, the whole ``process predator'' thing. I like hiding away in my room in front of Eileen or any of my other machines, either hacking away on some code that nobody cares enough about except me, or playing some computer games (in single player mode I might add) that I like. In short, almost like my fourteen-year-old self, except with greater purchasing power, greater general social responsibility and greater empowerment in making my own choices. No silly lab tech/teacher to tell me that I cannot use the computer lab over the school break because I was there most of the time, no one to tell me that I couldn't run Linux on the machines because it wasn't Windows.
Silly me since the early twenties---what made me think I would change my very nature with the whole ``adult'' thing by trying to have deep conversations about society, going out to parties or clubs and drinking or even gasp socialising with people? Life is more than a career; so what if I made a lot of money a month. Will it buy me happiness? I don't think so. Early in life, I was altruistic, thinking that I am fully justified in sacrificing myself ``for the greater good''---now, after being exposed to society, I wonder, why should I? I can do enough to give back to what society has offered me; I don't have to sacrifice myself for the idiots who are out there. And now, as the rise to prominence of social media shows, I am even better off shutting my true self away from the populace. I have been increasingly disgusted by the mis-application of technology, the ``big-sell snake oil'' that idiots have been pushing to other idiots, and how everything is soooo lovey-dovey. This world is made for normal people; I'm dysfunctional, but it's the true me, it is the me that I am most comfortable with. Damn those who don't understand; I can control machines, I am a god of my machines---I can create my own happiness. That's what the general population do not do.
So why am I trying to fit in again?
I think that in many ways, this year can be classified as the Year Of Amazingly Bad Choices Whose Consequences Are Haunting Me. I've had to make a couple of really hard decisions, most of them done at the breaking point of my personal sanity and rationality, all with dastardly consequences whose ramifications I cannot see completely yet, since they have been lying beyond my horizon of understanding. I had been rendered increasingly miserable over the last year or so being here in the middle of nowhere, realising more than ever that I am a foreigner in a foreign land, surrounded by even more foreign foreigners than before. I've always thought of myself as being fairly immune to the whole racism nonsense, but given my experiences here so far, I think that is no longer true, partly because of the repeated actions of the few who don't seem to realise what they are doing.
But cryptoxenophobia aside, I keep feeling that I have been making rather bad life choices over the last six years of my life. Deciding to try out intimate relationships have left me emotionally broken with a hollow shell, deciding to to take on a PhD has left me intellectually broken with a permanent migraine in my head, deciding to do martial arts has made me more aware of all kinds of new types of injuries that I had never even heard of. But among the three, I've not really given up on my martial arts, not just yet, though I'm currently in a restive period to recover from all the random injuries that had occurred here and there because of stupid circumstances unrelated to martial arts.
Yes, you've heard it here. I've given up on intimate relationships and my PhD. Shouldn't be a surprise, really. I think that it has been pretty obvious considering my general affect over the last year or so. I don't even know how I even manage to be around people given that I find my connections with most of them so superficial I might as well be manipulating them like a true sociopath does, you know, the whole ``process predator'' thing. I like hiding away in my room in front of Eileen or any of my other machines, either hacking away on some code that nobody cares enough about except me, or playing some computer games (in single player mode I might add) that I like. In short, almost like my fourteen-year-old self, except with greater purchasing power, greater general social responsibility and greater empowerment in making my own choices. No silly lab tech/teacher to tell me that I cannot use the computer lab over the school break because I was there most of the time, no one to tell me that I couldn't run Linux on the machines because it wasn't Windows.
Silly me since the early twenties---what made me think I would change my very nature with the whole ``adult'' thing by trying to have deep conversations about society, going out to parties or clubs and drinking or even gasp socialising with people? Life is more than a career; so what if I made a lot of money a month. Will it buy me happiness? I don't think so. Early in life, I was altruistic, thinking that I am fully justified in sacrificing myself ``for the greater good''---now, after being exposed to society, I wonder, why should I? I can do enough to give back to what society has offered me; I don't have to sacrifice myself for the idiots who are out there. And now, as the rise to prominence of social media shows, I am even better off shutting my true self away from the populace. I have been increasingly disgusted by the mis-application of technology, the ``big-sell snake oil'' that idiots have been pushing to other idiots, and how everything is soooo lovey-dovey. This world is made for normal people; I'm dysfunctional, but it's the true me, it is the me that I am most comfortable with. Damn those who don't understand; I can control machines, I am a god of my machines---I can create my own happiness. That's what the general population do not do.
So why am I trying to fit in again?
Monday, November 05, 2012
Kick-off and Freewrite Transcript
Eh, I know this is kind of stupid, considering that I am using words for NaNoWriMo and yet, instead of writing my novel, I'm wasting them on yet another blog entry. Whatever man---over the course of the last 4 days, I had written around 23k+ words, I think I've earned my time to do something else that involves a different kind of writing.
First off, the kick-off party. Yep, the NaNoWriMo kick-off party on Oct 31 was a blast. The whole bunch of us were out in full force at the Illini Union and had a great time talking about writing and other random things in general. Small mishaps though, when Erin (one of the muncipal liaisons) opened up the big bottle of soda, it exploded into a sticky mess from the gas build up, and my shoes got hit by it. It wasn't too bad, just funny. Also, some free writing stuff that I have transcribed to here from that event:
Next off, the contents of NaNoWriMo. I know I said before I wasn't joining, then I said I was, and now I am. But what is this year's contents about, really? Like always, I have no clue because I am winging it. But in broad strokes, think fantasy×realistic fiction and you'll have the general idea of what I'm writing. It has been decent progress, and I hope to surge past 25k tomorrow when I continue to write it. 6k per day is probably the maximum rate that I can go without shocking myself into a daze---2k in the morning (1 hour), 2k in the afternoon (1h) and 2k in the evening/night (1h). I find that the more time I dedicate to a stretch of writing, the less writing I actually do, which is interesting but not unexpected.
Anyhow, I originally wanted to write something really sad and depressing here, but somehow writing about NaNoWriMo cheered myself up, so I'll have to defer that sordid sob story some other time.
First off, the kick-off party. Yep, the NaNoWriMo kick-off party on Oct 31 was a blast. The whole bunch of us were out in full force at the Illini Union and had a great time talking about writing and other random things in general. Small mishaps though, when Erin (one of the muncipal liaisons) opened up the big bottle of soda, it exploded into a sticky mess from the gas build up, and my shoes got hit by it. It wasn't too bad, just funny. Also, some free writing stuff that I have transcribed to here from that event:
It is the night in which a bunch of crazies decide to lose one month's worth of sleep and time on a ``one-day'' task, the task of fulfilling fifty thousand words in the short span of a mere thirty days, an event that was once thought to be impossible but has been completed by legions for the last ten or so years, with their inner editors removed from the equation, their imagination wanton, their grammar tested, their diction forced, their flow pushed, each of those who have dedicated their time and energies to the endeavour suddenly find a realise at the end of it all, as they settle back to the humdrum of daily life, after a whole month of solid, pain-staking writing, thinking, processing and fighting the inner urge to correct, confound and refine to repurpose their lives from the norm into one filled with fantasy, pomp, desire, hatred and jubilation, the one novel of around fifty thousand words, the end product of yet another iteration of NaNoWriMo---the National Novel Writing Month.Yes, that was one sentence, a free write... in ink on paper. I'm not going to scan and upload an image of it, because it has one of the worse scrawls that I can produce in modern times (I'm not proud of its penmanship).
Next off, the contents of NaNoWriMo. I know I said before I wasn't joining, then I said I was, and now I am. But what is this year's contents about, really? Like always, I have no clue because I am winging it. But in broad strokes, think fantasy×realistic fiction and you'll have the general idea of what I'm writing. It has been decent progress, and I hope to surge past 25k tomorrow when I continue to write it. 6k per day is probably the maximum rate that I can go without shocking myself into a daze---2k in the morning (1 hour), 2k in the afternoon (1h) and 2k in the evening/night (1h). I find that the more time I dedicate to a stretch of writing, the less writing I actually do, which is interesting but not unexpected.
Anyhow, I originally wanted to write something really sad and depressing here, but somehow writing about NaNoWriMo cheered myself up, so I'll have to defer that sordid sob story some other time.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Cider Season
Not too long ago (Friday really) I attended a Halloween party held at a friend's place. It was made up of a group of folks from the ##uiuc channel of Freenode, as well as other random folks from /r/uiuc of Reddit. Anyway, I found myself there on a Friday evening/night, sipping on homebrewed cider and some beer that was microbrewed (I think) while hiding in the back room and talking to as many random people as I can.
And of course now I find that I like hiding in my apartment and not leaving it unless necessary. There's always something about a large crowd of people that makes me want to hide away and not come out and interact for a good two weeks since the occurrence of the said party.
I don't really know the reason. It is not as though I didn't enjoy myself at the party. Sure, I wasn't about to pick anyone up there (never was the intention anyway), and I had meet up with quite a few interesting/different people that I would otherwise not have the chance to hang out/talk to. Some of them are dicks of some sort, but many of them are cool (too cool really), but overall it wasn't a bad party. Yet after 3 to 4 hours, I start to find myself ever more detached from the mess, becoming even more of an observer rather than a participant.
Well anyway, that's all the junk I have to talk about. I'm still trying to recover from my exposure to so many [gorgeous] people in a [cramped] place, while hallucinating bits and pieces of the storyline for my NaNoWriMo 2012 entry, and wondering when I would stop procrastinating and finishing up the pieces of homework that are due, as well as the grading that I need to do, among the other relatively large life decisions that I need to make.
Till the next update.
And of course now I find that I like hiding in my apartment and not leaving it unless necessary. There's always something about a large crowd of people that makes me want to hide away and not come out and interact for a good two weeks since the occurrence of the said party.
I don't really know the reason. It is not as though I didn't enjoy myself at the party. Sure, I wasn't about to pick anyone up there (never was the intention anyway), and I had meet up with quite a few interesting/different people that I would otherwise not have the chance to hang out/talk to. Some of them are dicks of some sort, but many of them are cool (too cool really), but overall it wasn't a bad party. Yet after 3 to 4 hours, I start to find myself ever more detached from the mess, becoming even more of an observer rather than a participant.
Well anyway, that's all the junk I have to talk about. I'm still trying to recover from my exposure to so many [gorgeous] people in a [cramped] place, while hallucinating bits and pieces of the storyline for my NaNoWriMo 2012 entry, and wondering when I would stop procrastinating and finishing up the pieces of homework that are due, as well as the grading that I need to do, among the other relatively large life decisions that I need to make.
Till the next update.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Time for NaNoWriMo 2012
Heh. Talk about stuffing my foot into my mouth. Not too long ago, I said something to the effect of not having a story to tell and having a rather complicated semester that is affecting the way in which I could plan and write a story.
Well, things have changed. There are a few rather earth-shaking changes in my life at the moment (no, I'm not getting married or jailed) that those who are closest to me know, and from those changes, I managed to come up with some kind of story line for the upcoming NaNoWriMo. So yes, I am back for NaNoWriMo 2012, as seen via the setting up of the customary word count widget on this blog.
So far, my entries for NaNoWriMo had been some sort of modern-era story line with a very strong ``slice of life'' flavour. Nothing out of the ordinary there, since I am basically following the old adage of ``writing what you know best'', and in my case, writing about my experiences from a different perspective was the easiest way to tackle this. This year, however, I have changed tack. It will be the first time that I am writing a fantasy novel.
Now, if you know me, the first thing that ought to come to mind would be ``no way, him writing fantasy? But he hardly reads anything fantasy to begin with!''. Well, yes, there is a strong ounce of truth there---I have not really read much fantasy in a long while, because really, fantasy is hard to write. I mean, there's a ``new'' term to describe fiction that take place in not-now (speculative fiction), but really, trying to invent a world and write it up such that it does not suck [in content and realism] and yet sucks [the reader in without him/her realising it] is just not that easy. So of course, there is a caveat hidden somewhere.
I cheat, obviously. For the most part there is a strong fantasy component; I blame this on my recent re-reading of Girl Genius and Wapsi Square, together with some rather... odd dreams/nightmares that I have been getting. But that is only part of the story; I will include quite a bit of vignettes of life in a style that is similar to my usual ``slice-of-life'' method of writing. All done with juxtaposition of course---it is hard to convince me to do do otherwise.
So the long and short of it is: I am back for NaNoWriMo 2012, with a slightly different genre from my usual comfort zone. We will see what kind of story I can come up with for my fourth 50k-word novel.
Well, things have changed. There are a few rather earth-shaking changes in my life at the moment (no, I'm not getting married or jailed) that those who are closest to me know, and from those changes, I managed to come up with some kind of story line for the upcoming NaNoWriMo. So yes, I am back for NaNoWriMo 2012, as seen via the setting up of the customary word count widget on this blog.
So far, my entries for NaNoWriMo had been some sort of modern-era story line with a very strong ``slice of life'' flavour. Nothing out of the ordinary there, since I am basically following the old adage of ``writing what you know best'', and in my case, writing about my experiences from a different perspective was the easiest way to tackle this. This year, however, I have changed tack. It will be the first time that I am writing a fantasy novel.
Now, if you know me, the first thing that ought to come to mind would be ``no way, him writing fantasy? But he hardly reads anything fantasy to begin with!''. Well, yes, there is a strong ounce of truth there---I have not really read much fantasy in a long while, because really, fantasy is hard to write. I mean, there's a ``new'' term to describe fiction that take place in not-now (speculative fiction), but really, trying to invent a world and write it up such that it does not suck [in content and realism] and yet sucks [the reader in without him/her realising it] is just not that easy. So of course, there is a caveat hidden somewhere.
I cheat, obviously. For the most part there is a strong fantasy component; I blame this on my recent re-reading of Girl Genius and Wapsi Square, together with some rather... odd dreams/nightmares that I have been getting. But that is only part of the story; I will include quite a bit of vignettes of life in a style that is similar to my usual ``slice-of-life'' method of writing. All done with juxtaposition of course---it is hard to convince me to do do otherwise.
So the long and short of it is: I am back for NaNoWriMo 2012, with a slightly different genre from my usual comfort zone. We will see what kind of story I can come up with for my fourth 50k-word novel.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
傻女
Something from yesteryear:For some reason, the tune sticks really deep in my mind for this one.
And yes, it is in cantonese. I'm sure there is a chinese version, but I'm not sure where it might be.
《傻女》——陈慧娴Lyrics courtesy 虾米.com
这夜我又再独对夜半无人的空气
穿起你的毛衣 重演某天的好戏
让毛做长袖不经意地 抱着我静看天地
让唇在无味的衣领上 笑说最爱你的气味
我恨我共你是套现已完场的好戏
只有请你的毛衣 从此每天饰演你
夜来便来伴我坐 默然但仍默许我
将肌肤紧贴你 将身躯交予你
准许我这夜做旧角色 准我快乐地
重饰演某段美丽故事主人
饰演你旧年共寻梦的恋人
再去做没流着情泪的伊人
假装再有从前演过的戏份
重饰演某段美丽故事主人
饰演你旧年共寻梦的恋人
你纵是未明白仍夜深一人
穿起你那无言毛衣当跟你接近
And yes, it is in cantonese. I'm sure there is a chinese version, but I'm not sure where it might be.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Indiana Hiking/Geocaching
It has been a while since I wrote anything here, hasn't it? Like always, this place feels as though I were merely shouting hoarsely into the void, where the vastness of the Web renders my words to be as effectual as a bucket of water dumped into the ocean. But that suits me fine---this is still just one of the many outlets that I have allowed myself to have in order to ensure some minimal level of sanity.
Alright, enough of the blathering. What's new? Recently, I made a trip out to a state park in Indiana to pick up a cache that was placed there in the year 2000, one of the oldest caches that I have physically logged. The previous old cache was circa 2001 and in Singapore, so it was an interesting find. The cache was rated as 3/4.5, but I think that the terrain is at most 3. Maybe the terrain difficulties in the early days were less extreme than what we have now, which made the 4.5 terrain level justified, or it could very well be the case that I am more or less near the physical prime of my life, which made hiking through the state park a breeze, even though the trails were rated as being ``very rugged''. Of course, John and I speculated that there were some legal reasons to over rate the trails, just in case of an accident.
While on the hiking/geocaching trip, I actually come to realise the truth about combat boots---they are the all-round most mediocre boots to be hiking with, but they still trounce any sneakers that are used for the same activities. Unlike ``proper'' hiking boots, combat boots don't have that much ankle mobility, which makes long term walking tricky, but more importantly, the treads of the combat boots are not that well suited for moss-covered rocks or rocks that are generally slippery from say water. They work extremely well in mud due to the thickness of the tread (the tread pattern is basically islands of quadrilaterals, which work on a similar principle as say caterpillar tracks), but since the end of the treads do not have the smaller ``grips'' that are present in hiking boots, we find that walking over moss and/or wet rocks just does not work that well. Unfortunately, most of the hiking over in North American deals with non-muddy situations, so the combat boots are not the best way to go about. Come to think of it, I actually do own a pair of hiking boots that I wear on days that I choose not to wear my Vibrams---I treat them like sneakers, but they are fairly comfortable to walk in. But I still stick with my combat boots for the single awesome property of being waterproof up to two inches above ankle height, a very useful property when trying to ford streams while simultaneously avoiding being wet. For that purpose, a pair of tightly laced combat boots works wonders.
Strange enough, as I am typing stuff here on Firefox 16.0, I'm not facing any of the slow downs that I was experiencing earlier. Either Google fixed the scripts for the editing box, or Mozilla did something about the way they are running the scripts. In either case, it is a good thing because now, what I type is no longer taking forever to be shown.
Alright, enough updates for now. Till the next one.
Alright, enough of the blathering. What's new? Recently, I made a trip out to a state park in Indiana to pick up a cache that was placed there in the year 2000, one of the oldest caches that I have physically logged. The previous old cache was circa 2001 and in Singapore, so it was an interesting find. The cache was rated as 3/4.5, but I think that the terrain is at most 3. Maybe the terrain difficulties in the early days were less extreme than what we have now, which made the 4.5 terrain level justified, or it could very well be the case that I am more or less near the physical prime of my life, which made hiking through the state park a breeze, even though the trails were rated as being ``very rugged''. Of course, John and I speculated that there were some legal reasons to over rate the trails, just in case of an accident.
While on the hiking/geocaching trip, I actually come to realise the truth about combat boots---they are the all-round most mediocre boots to be hiking with, but they still trounce any sneakers that are used for the same activities. Unlike ``proper'' hiking boots, combat boots don't have that much ankle mobility, which makes long term walking tricky, but more importantly, the treads of the combat boots are not that well suited for moss-covered rocks or rocks that are generally slippery from say water. They work extremely well in mud due to the thickness of the tread (the tread pattern is basically islands of quadrilaterals, which work on a similar principle as say caterpillar tracks), but since the end of the treads do not have the smaller ``grips'' that are present in hiking boots, we find that walking over moss and/or wet rocks just does not work that well. Unfortunately, most of the hiking over in North American deals with non-muddy situations, so the combat boots are not the best way to go about. Come to think of it, I actually do own a pair of hiking boots that I wear on days that I choose not to wear my Vibrams---I treat them like sneakers, but they are fairly comfortable to walk in. But I still stick with my combat boots for the single awesome property of being waterproof up to two inches above ankle height, a very useful property when trying to ford streams while simultaneously avoiding being wet. For that purpose, a pair of tightly laced combat boots works wonders.
Strange enough, as I am typing stuff here on Firefox 16.0, I'm not facing any of the slow downs that I was experiencing earlier. Either Google fixed the scripts for the editing box, or Mozilla did something about the way they are running the scripts. In either case, it is a good thing because now, what I type is no longer taking forever to be shown.
Alright, enough updates for now. Till the next one.
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
NVIDIA Optimus BSOD
If you own an Alienware m11xR2 like Eileen, and are playing Torchlight II with frequent blue screen of deaths after around 20 to 40 minutes of game time, there is a fix for this. According to the pooled sources that I have found, this is related to the shader clocks being on the high side. A working solution is to download MSI Afterburner, enable the ``Legacy GUI'', and shift the clock speed of the shader down by around 50MHz. I usually run this tool after launching Torchlight II to ensure that I am indeed running on the NVIDIA GT 335m graphics card as opposed to the integrated one.
After quitting the game, I always reset the clock rates. No harm doing that, really.
After quitting the game, I always reset the clock rates. No harm doing that, really.
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Rue
To thine own self be trueA maxim of life, it seems, is to be true to oneself. Being true to the self connotes the notion of actually knowing what one truly wants and then working towards that goal. It suggests the preternatural ability to exercise judgement, preferably good, with respect to one's interest and self-preservation.
---Polonius, Hamlet, by Shakespeare
Interestingly, I think that I am severely lacking in good judgement these days for some reason. I cannot tell if this is physiological (something fundamentally wrong with my brain from the few blows I have suffered over the last couple of years from taking the breakfalls from some throws really badly) or psychological (something fundamentally wrong with my mind/world view from the increasing levels of cynicism that has developed from the general withdrawal from intimate social contact for one reason or another). In either case, it seems that my last few years of judgements are relatively questionable, and it seems to be time that I started to rectify them, one step at a time.
I have been wondering to myself for quite a while. The aspect that I thought was my major strength (a man with no past) is fast catching up with me in the present, where I realise that since I was a man with no past, my roots are mostly lacking, and the lack of a root was starting to become a liability on my psyche. From which position are my actions stemming from is a question that does not have a ready answer, and it scares me.
Yes, there is something that scares me. When I realised that, I was rather surprised myself. I wasn't known to be that afraid of things, but here I am feeling fear. Pure unadulterated fear.
I keep escaping from it, of course, like what someone said to me, a coward. I still don't know how best to face my fears, considering that I do not have a strong enough base to face them with. I used to rely on my friends a lot, but they all... have problems of their own and are out of reach. The new friends I make just don't know me well enough to be of any use, and in addition to that, they are not that close to me anyway. And my family... I don't really want to trouble them. I feel that they have been through enough for me, and so perhaps I should just suck it up and do it myself.
And so I am sucking it up. And suffering greatly from it. So terribly greatly.
I wake up each morning feeling a sinking feeling deep within my chest, rousing myself somehow to get to the office. I pass the day reading papers, thinking more or less aimlessly, working on homework, running to and fro classes, watching my life fade away. When I go to bed, I would collapse only when the night is deep, and then would suddenly be wide awake at three in the morning.
Fear is a powerful emotion. I don't fear the real---it is the abstract that gets my goat.
There are days I have thought of just sitting there and ending it all somehow, either disappearing from contact forever or well heh just disappearing completely. But they will solve nothing, obviously. I hate myself sometimes for thinking about them in the first place.
Oh well. Life sucks.
Time to suck it down and move on.
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