Sure to start neighborhood fights. Been playing around with this site which lets you see which US candidate your neighbors have contributed to. You can even look people up by name. Apparently, you have to be pretty up front about contributing, because even famous people are listed (along with their addresses, which I wont post here). My comments in brackets:
Former pols:
Barbara P. Bush (Retired):
George W. Bush $2,000
Michael S. Dukakis (Professor Northeastern University):
John Kerry $2,000
Walter F Mondale (IR IR):
Bob Graham $500
Henry A. Kissinger (Chairman Kissinger Associates):
George W. Bush $1,000
George W. Bush $1,000
H. Ross Perot (President Perot Systems Corporation):
George W. Bush $2,000
Big money dudes:
George Soros (Investor SOROS FUNDS MANAGEMENT):
John Kerry $2,000
Bob Graham $2,000
Wesley Clark $2,000
Howard Dean $1,000 <-- interesting, he gets less
Donald J. Trump (President The Trump Organization):
John Kerry $2,000
George W. Bush $2,000
[That's a head-scratcher. No, I guess not. Trump just wants
to be on the winning team.]
William H. Gates (CEO Microsoft Corp.):
George W. Bush $2,000
S. ROBSON WALTON (CHAIRMAN WALMART):
George W. Bush $2,000
Big money entertainers:
Jerry Seinfeld (Entertainer Self-employed):
John Kerry $2,000
Wesley Clark $2,000
Jessica Seinfeld (his wife):
Wesley Clark $2,000
[None of the Friends cast, those rich indolent bastards.]
[None of the big shot hosts: Leno, Letterman, Oprah, Colin O'Brien, Kilby, Jon Stewart.]
Barbra Streisand (Actress/ Musician Self employed):
Howard Dean $1,000
John Kerry $1,000
John Edwards $1,000
Dick Gephardt $1,000
Al Sharpton $1,000
Bob Graham $1,000
Wesley Clark $1,000
Susan Sarandon (Actress Self employed):
Howard Dean $2,000
[Pundits: no Michael Moore, Al Franken, Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, Ollie North, Ann Coulter.]
Stephen King (Writer Self employed):
Howard Dean $2,000
Tabitha King (writer Self employed [his wife]):
Howard Dean $2,000
Robert Deniro (Filmmaker Tribeca Productions):
Howard Dean $2,000
Dick Gephardt $2,000
Wesley Clark $2,000
Ben Affleck (["]Actor["]):
Wesley Clark $2,000
Edward Norton (Actor Self-employed):
John Kerry $2,000
Dennis Kucinich $2,000
Michael Douglas (Actor and Producer Furtler files):
Howard Dean $2,000
Meg Ryan (Information Requested):
Wesley Clark $2,000
Helen Hunt (Actress Self employed):
Howard Dean $2,000
Steven Buscemi (Information Requested):
Wesley Clark $1,000
The national and city maps are very interesting too.
Friday, March 19, 2004
Quitters Inc. I was talking to Marjorie the other day about my tendency to crack my knuckles, and my neck. I said, since I'm sharing an office, that these are probably not the most endearing qualities in an office mate. She replied, "Or a spouse."
So I hereby give them up. While I'm at it, I'll throw in biting my nails.
To paraphrase Mark Twain, it's easy to quit, I've done it hundreds of times. I actually quit nail-biting before, for a good long time, by wearing a rubber band around my wrist, and snapping it whenever I caught myself mano-a-boca. But then, five years later, I started up again. I tried the rubber band trick again a few years later, and it didn't work at all; I snapped it several times daily for a good long month, but never stopped the biting.
I generally have pretty good will power, though, so this time I'm going to quit these habits just by trying really hard, and by the old public shame method -- letting others around me know I'm trying to quit. Hence this post.
So I hereby give them up. While I'm at it, I'll throw in biting my nails.
To paraphrase Mark Twain, it's easy to quit, I've done it hundreds of times. I actually quit nail-biting before, for a good long time, by wearing a rubber band around my wrist, and snapping it whenever I caught myself mano-a-boca. But then, five years later, I started up again. I tried the rubber band trick again a few years later, and it didn't work at all; I snapped it several times daily for a good long month, but never stopped the biting.
I generally have pretty good will power, though, so this time I'm going to quit these habits just by trying really hard, and by the old public shame method -- letting others around me know I'm trying to quit. Hence this post.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Just about the most depressing thing ever. When my job sent me to an Air Force base in Germany for a month, and then a Nato base in Italy for a month, it used to boggle my mind that there were so many people in both places that had been stationed there for years but had never ventured off the base, or learned a word of the native language. A few -- just a few -- of the military guys there shared my frustration, and these were the guys I befriended, and went out exploring with when I could.
So today I when I stumbled across this blog on Blogdex, I thought, here's a guy who feels like I do. He was even better than me at befriending locals and taking the sorts of photos that I never had the guts to take, especially given that he's stationed in Iraq. And it sounded like he was truly trying to help the locals. He's a guy I would like to hang out with if I ever found myself stationed there. I went back and read half his archive, and planned to add his blog to my list of blogs I check routinely.
Then, reading further down in Blogdex, I discovered another link that explained why his blog was rated so high in Blogdex. With a sick feeling I found that he was just killed in an ambush while making a foray out of the safe zone.
Just, so senseless.
So today I when I stumbled across this blog on Blogdex, I thought, here's a guy who feels like I do. He was even better than me at befriending locals and taking the sorts of photos that I never had the guts to take, especially given that he's stationed in Iraq. And it sounded like he was truly trying to help the locals. He's a guy I would like to hang out with if I ever found myself stationed there. I went back and read half his archive, and planned to add his blog to my list of blogs I check routinely.
Then, reading further down in Blogdex, I discovered another link that explained why his blog was rated so high in Blogdex. With a sick feeling I found that he was just killed in an ambush while making a foray out of the safe zone.
Just, so senseless.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
I pieced together this panorama from Tioman Island. I'm not sure if the variations in lighting from frame to frame are the camera's fault or the weather's. We holed up in the little shacks to the left of the picture.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Monthly geek-out! Bear with me. A tenth planet has been discovered. "Sedna" is actually not really a planet, but it's the biggest thing that's been discovered since Pluto.
Someday I'm going to start a website that's all about trying to give a sense of size and scale to our universe, especially our solar system, with splashy diagrams and descriptive text. (And of course I would have to call it the Total Perspective Vortex, in honor of Douglas Adams.) In the meanwhile, here's some decidedly non-splashy graphics I whipped up that'll give you a sense of how far away this new object they've discovered is:
Se---j----s--------u----------n--------p-----------------------------------@----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------!--
where
S is the sun
e is the earth
j is jupiter
s is saturn
u is uranus
n is neptune
p is pluto (on average)
@ is Sedna, at its CLOSEST
! is Sedna, at its FURTHEST
Just how far away is that?
Have you ever seen a car with 186000 miles (300000 kilometers) on it? Imagine traveling all that distance -- every side street, vacation trip, work commute, whatever -- in a single second. That's how fast light travels. A (say) radio message traveling that fast would take over ten hours to reach Sedna at its closest point, and it would be another ten hours before you got a response. At its FURTHEST point, your message would take 117 hours (almost five days!) to reach Sedna.
Picture our moon; Sedna's about half as big, best guess. And at the distance it is out there, it's not going to be reflecting a lot of sunlight. It's amazing that they could spot this thing. The article doesn't say, but I'm sure it found near it's closest point in orbit, which it makes the rounds to every 10000 years or so. So, its last visit this close was around the time that agriculture and the bow and arrow were novel concepts.
Someday I'm going to start a website that's all about trying to give a sense of size and scale to our universe, especially our solar system, with splashy diagrams and descriptive text. (And of course I would have to call it the Total Perspective Vortex, in honor of Douglas Adams.) In the meanwhile, here's some decidedly non-splashy graphics I whipped up that'll give you a sense of how far away this new object they've discovered is:
Se---j----s--------u----------n--------p-----------------------------------@----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------!--
where
S is the sun
e is the earth
j is jupiter
s is saturn
u is uranus
n is neptune
p is pluto (on average)
@ is Sedna, at its CLOSEST
! is Sedna, at its FURTHEST
Just how far away is that?
Have you ever seen a car with 186000 miles (300000 kilometers) on it? Imagine traveling all that distance -- every side street, vacation trip, work commute, whatever -- in a single second. That's how fast light travels. A (say) radio message traveling that fast would take over ten hours to reach Sedna at its closest point, and it would be another ten hours before you got a response. At its FURTHEST point, your message would take 117 hours (almost five days!) to reach Sedna.
Picture our moon; Sedna's about half as big, best guess. And at the distance it is out there, it's not going to be reflecting a lot of sunlight. It's amazing that they could spot this thing. The article doesn't say, but I'm sure it found near it's closest point in orbit, which it makes the rounds to every 10000 years or so. So, its last visit this close was around the time that agriculture and the bow and arrow were novel concepts.
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Commericals. Some of my favorite commercials here in Singapore:
1. Two guys are looking out a hotel window, wide-eyed. They gleefully run out of the room to the elevator, then down and through the lobby (slowing down to try to appear calm when passing the reception desk) and out into the street, where it is snowing. It is obviously their first time seeing snow, and they look up to feel it on their faces, and start throwing snowballs at each other. The commercial is for Emirates (the airline out of Dubai) and features their slogan, "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" Sure, it's a feel-good commercial, but it makes me feel good.
2. Travel commericals for Malaysia, New Zealand (featuring, unsurprisingly, "Don't Dream It's Over"), and lately, some island off the coast of South Korea, just because they remind me there's a lot of places left to visit.
3. A young Singaporean couple, very much in love, are consulting their auntie about the most fortuitous day to get married. The auntie is taking the dates they suggest and looking them up in her book of astrology. Or so it seems; actually, inside the astrology book she has a TV schedule. So for each date, she's actually looking up what's going to be on TV that day, and responds "Saturday the 6th, hmmmm, not auspicious", or "No, Friday the 12th, doesn't look good..." (because there is so much good on TV, you see). Nicely captures a lot about Singapore and their melding of the modern and the traditional.
1. Two guys are looking out a hotel window, wide-eyed. They gleefully run out of the room to the elevator, then down and through the lobby (slowing down to try to appear calm when passing the reception desk) and out into the street, where it is snowing. It is obviously their first time seeing snow, and they look up to feel it on their faces, and start throwing snowballs at each other. The commercial is for Emirates (the airline out of Dubai) and features their slogan, "When was the last time you did something for the first time?" Sure, it's a feel-good commercial, but it makes me feel good.
2. Travel commericals for Malaysia, New Zealand (featuring, unsurprisingly, "Don't Dream It's Over"), and lately, some island off the coast of South Korea, just because they remind me there's a lot of places left to visit.
3. A young Singaporean couple, very much in love, are consulting their auntie about the most fortuitous day to get married. The auntie is taking the dates they suggest and looking them up in her book of astrology. Or so it seems; actually, inside the astrology book she has a TV schedule. So for each date, she's actually looking up what's going to be on TV that day, and responds "Saturday the 6th, hmmmm, not auspicious", or "No, Friday the 12th, doesn't look good..." (because there is so much good on TV, you see). Nicely captures a lot about Singapore and their melding of the modern and the traditional.
Friday, March 12, 2004
Tioman. Last weekend Mom and Dad acquiesced to our need to getout of town, and agreed to our suggestion to go to Tioman Island, up north in Malaysia. The package we booked involved a bus ride over the border and three hours north to the coastal town of Mersing, where we would catch a ferry out to the island. Things started bad as I realized I forgot my Singapore work permit just before we boarded the bus. We decided to just go anyway and hope that the stamp in my passport would suffice. It did; we were able to leave without too much hassle.
The bus ride was a white-knuckle adventure, with a driver who didn't dawdle on the turns or let little things like no-passing zones prevent him from overtaking other vehicles. At a rest stop we spotted a pair of Oriental Pied Hornbills -- very cool. Our driver's hurry paid off as we managed to just catch our ferry out to the island. Actually, it was less of a ferry than a state's fair carnival ride; hot, cramped, bumpy, and poorly maintained. It didn't help that our driver smoked. Quite a change from our last visit here, where we had a two-story ferry with a snack bar over calm seas. Fortunately my mom had enough bonine for everyone.
Arrived two hours later ready to kiss the ground. Our rooms at the Salang Beach Resort were a little more -- shall we say 'rustic' -- than I was expecting. But they kept the rain off our heads. (Fortunately we only got a little rain.) The AC in my parents room was so loud it would have kept them awake, so they had to switch rooms. In their next room the AC was nice and quiet, but didn't blow cold air. Third room was the charm.
Did a little snorkeling, then had a nice fish dinner and drinks. That night we were woken from our slumber at 4 am by the guest in the next room who was VERY drunk and wouldn't stop trying to get in our room. (Note to self: Add "pepper spray" to travel packing list.) We eventually went down to the "police station" (a one room white bungalo) and managed to convince the guy there to put on shirt and follow us, but he didn't speak English well enough to even understand what was going on. When we got back our neighbor had gone inside his room (apparently our "We'll see how you like it in a Malaysian prison" threat struck a chord), and our barefoot officer seemed reluctant to pursue anything, or even come up off the sidewalk. He disappeared back into the night a minute later. We shrugged and went back in to try to sleep, once the adreneline wore off. We complained to the management the next morning. Others complained about this guy too, but they didn't kick him out. Instead it was our turn to switch rooms.
After a breakfast of banana pancakes (the traditional backpacker brekkie), we decided to do a little hiking. Now, we were at just about the northernmost resort on the island, so the only direction to hike was south. There are no real roads on Tioman (except for a short one near the middle); instead, there is only a footpath that skirts the edge of the island. This suffices because pretty much all the development on the island is within 100m of water, since the interior is mountainous. So we decided to just walk south to the next water-taxi stop south of us, or at least to "Monkey Beach", a supposedly nice place in between. Following the signs led us up the hills into the jungle, but we only made it a short way before deciding it was just too steep and too muddy. We were going to go on anyway until I posed the question of just how many hours we were from any sort of decent medical care, should somebody fall. I wish I had taken a picture of my retired parents scrambling down a muddy path through the jungle on a Malaysian island with their hands down in the mud.
Plan B was more snorkeling from the beach. Though the day was cloudier and the water was more choppy, it was still pretty good. My favorite sightings were several so-called "cleaning stations", which are fixed places on the reef that fish visit to have their parasites picked off by cleaner wrasses. I saw a big parrot fish even let a cleaner wrasse swim into its mouth. Also spotted were giant clams, blue and black angelfish that swam up to my fingers, file fish, nudibranches, and a clown fish and its parent in an anemone.
That night we spotted eery lights from under the water just off the beach from our huts; it was a night-diving expedition, which I don't know if we'd have the guts to try. Maybe someday. Still need to get certified first.
We were hoping for calmer seas on the return trip, but it was not to be. I think it was a bit rougher, but at least we were going with the waves this time. Still, the little kid behind me got sick, and I had to keep going to the back of the boat to splash water on my face.
The bus ride back was somewhat less intense, as there wasn't a ferry to catch. My Dad sat opposite a Malaysian guy -- Jules? -- and struck up an interesting conversation, which I only heard snippets of. The guy worked for Peace Cola, the Malaysian alternative to Coca Cola, which donates part of their proceeds to peace causes. He had lots of other interesting information about Malaysia and their relationship with Singapore, that I wish I could remember more of.
All in all, a very interesting trip. Given the difficulty of the commute, it would have been nice to spend more time, but it was still nice to get away. And hopefully we gave my parents some good stories to relate to the folks back home.
The bus ride was a white-knuckle adventure, with a driver who didn't dawdle on the turns or let little things like no-passing zones prevent him from overtaking other vehicles. At a rest stop we spotted a pair of Oriental Pied Hornbills -- very cool. Our driver's hurry paid off as we managed to just catch our ferry out to the island. Actually, it was less of a ferry than a state's fair carnival ride; hot, cramped, bumpy, and poorly maintained. It didn't help that our driver smoked. Quite a change from our last visit here, where we had a two-story ferry with a snack bar over calm seas. Fortunately my mom had enough bonine for everyone.
Arrived two hours later ready to kiss the ground. Our rooms at the Salang Beach Resort were a little more -- shall we say 'rustic' -- than I was expecting. But they kept the rain off our heads. (Fortunately we only got a little rain.) The AC in my parents room was so loud it would have kept them awake, so they had to switch rooms. In their next room the AC was nice and quiet, but didn't blow cold air. Third room was the charm.
Did a little snorkeling, then had a nice fish dinner and drinks. That night we were woken from our slumber at 4 am by the guest in the next room who was VERY drunk and wouldn't stop trying to get in our room. (Note to self: Add "pepper spray" to travel packing list.) We eventually went down to the "police station" (a one room white bungalo) and managed to convince the guy there to put on shirt and follow us, but he didn't speak English well enough to even understand what was going on. When we got back our neighbor had gone inside his room (apparently our "We'll see how you like it in a Malaysian prison" threat struck a chord), and our barefoot officer seemed reluctant to pursue anything, or even come up off the sidewalk. He disappeared back into the night a minute later. We shrugged and went back in to try to sleep, once the adreneline wore off. We complained to the management the next morning. Others complained about this guy too, but they didn't kick him out. Instead it was our turn to switch rooms.
After a breakfast of banana pancakes (the traditional backpacker brekkie), we decided to do a little hiking. Now, we were at just about the northernmost resort on the island, so the only direction to hike was south. There are no real roads on Tioman (except for a short one near the middle); instead, there is only a footpath that skirts the edge of the island. This suffices because pretty much all the development on the island is within 100m of water, since the interior is mountainous. So we decided to just walk south to the next water-taxi stop south of us, or at least to "Monkey Beach", a supposedly nice place in between. Following the signs led us up the hills into the jungle, but we only made it a short way before deciding it was just too steep and too muddy. We were going to go on anyway until I posed the question of just how many hours we were from any sort of decent medical care, should somebody fall. I wish I had taken a picture of my retired parents scrambling down a muddy path through the jungle on a Malaysian island with their hands down in the mud.
Plan B was more snorkeling from the beach. Though the day was cloudier and the water was more choppy, it was still pretty good. My favorite sightings were several so-called "cleaning stations", which are fixed places on the reef that fish visit to have their parasites picked off by cleaner wrasses. I saw a big parrot fish even let a cleaner wrasse swim into its mouth. Also spotted were giant clams, blue and black angelfish that swam up to my fingers, file fish, nudibranches, and a clown fish and its parent in an anemone.
That night we spotted eery lights from under the water just off the beach from our huts; it was a night-diving expedition, which I don't know if we'd have the guts to try. Maybe someday. Still need to get certified first.
We were hoping for calmer seas on the return trip, but it was not to be. I think it was a bit rougher, but at least we were going with the waves this time. Still, the little kid behind me got sick, and I had to keep going to the back of the boat to splash water on my face.
The bus ride back was somewhat less intense, as there wasn't a ferry to catch. My Dad sat opposite a Malaysian guy -- Jules? -- and struck up an interesting conversation, which I only heard snippets of. The guy worked for Peace Cola, the Malaysian alternative to Coca Cola, which donates part of their proceeds to peace causes. He had lots of other interesting information about Malaysia and their relationship with Singapore, that I wish I could remember more of.
All in all, a very interesting trip. Given the difficulty of the commute, it would have been nice to spend more time, but it was still nice to get away. And hopefully we gave my parents some good stories to relate to the folks back home.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Now it can be said: our guests were my parents, who didn't want to announce to any unfriendlies that their house was going to be unoccupied for two weeks. They've now arrived safely home. Here are some of the things we showed (or inflicted upon) them:
Sungei Buloh Nature Preserve. Our tour guide Rhea showed us many interesting things we missed on previous visits. No snakes this time, but we did see mudskippers, weaver ants, cross spiders, archer fish, and a giant monitor lizard.
Hawker centers. Not a lot of success here as we seemed to always suggest the wrong item, either too spicy or too weird, while they were already overdosing on strangeness.
Little India. On a Sunday night, when the throngs descend. Topped off with another too-spicy but tasty meal.
Tioman Island, as I mentioned before; I'll post details from this interesting side trip tonight, hopefully.
Also: Comfort food at Brewerkz on Clarke Quay. Orchard Road. The wet market and bird-singing place at Ghim Moh. Catholic Mass -- the "sign of peace" involved mostly bowing instead of handshaking. Brunch at Cellar Door. China Town. The Merlion. Games of bridge in the evenings (they're teaching us). Pricy Mexican at Margarita's.
On their own they checked out the Changi(?) Yacht Club, the Asian Civilizations Museum, Body Worlds, and Sentosa Island.
A wonderful visit! With each passing year I am more and more grateful to be able to call such wonderful and adventuresome people my parents.
Sungei Buloh Nature Preserve. Our tour guide Rhea showed us many interesting things we missed on previous visits. No snakes this time, but we did see mudskippers, weaver ants, cross spiders, archer fish, and a giant monitor lizard.
Hawker centers. Not a lot of success here as we seemed to always suggest the wrong item, either too spicy or too weird, while they were already overdosing on strangeness.
Little India. On a Sunday night, when the throngs descend. Topped off with another too-spicy but tasty meal.
Tioman Island, as I mentioned before; I'll post details from this interesting side trip tonight, hopefully.
Also: Comfort food at Brewerkz on Clarke Quay. Orchard Road. The wet market and bird-singing place at Ghim Moh. Catholic Mass -- the "sign of peace" involved mostly bowing instead of handshaking. Brunch at Cellar Door. China Town. The Merlion. Games of bridge in the evenings (they're teaching us). Pricy Mexican at Margarita's.
On their own they checked out the Changi(?) Yacht Club, the Asian Civilizations Museum, Body Worlds, and Sentosa Island.
A wonderful visit! With each passing year I am more and more grateful to be able to call such wonderful and adventuresome people my parents.
Monday, March 08, 2004
Pissing down with rain on a boring Monday. For our guests' last day here, it rained. And rained. And rained. I've never seen quite this much rain here. Rainy season was supposed to be over.
While I gather my notes for the full report on our visitors, I can report on something we snuck off and did on our own last Thursday night: the David Bowie concert, at Singapore Indoor Stadium. Buying nosebleed seats paid off as didn't sell enough tickets, and closed the upper level of the stadium. So we ended up with much better seats, and even improved on them by wandering up to maybe 15 meters from stage right. (Not quite as good as seeing him from about three meters away last year in Brooklyn, but still.) Sound was pretty bad for the first half of the show until somebody plugged in a loose cord or something and the stack of speakers pointed our way turned on. David was in fine form and chatty. The set list was the tried and true formula of a familiar opening, a mix of old and new, and a finish of old favorites. Highlights for me were Five Years and I'm Afraid of Americans (which he graciously prefaced by saying was about just a few Americans that he was afraid of).
At one point I happily pointed out to Marjorie that David Bowie has no ass! This is a beacon of hope for me, that a man can not only exist but actually thrive without one.
As the show ended we bolted for the taxi stand, and were first in the queue. Of course, no taxis came by, preferring to cruise around until called (for the bonus $3 surcharge). So eventually we had to call one, as did everyone else who was waiting. While they all disappeared one by one into their summoned cabs, we waited and waited for our guy who never showed. He eventually called us but couldn't figure out how to get to where we were, and wanted us to walk around the stadium and find him. Yeah right. We ended up walking out through the now-deserted parking lots until we got out on the main road a flagged another one down. Sometimes I really miss having a car.
While I gather my notes for the full report on our visitors, I can report on something we snuck off and did on our own last Thursday night: the David Bowie concert, at Singapore Indoor Stadium. Buying nosebleed seats paid off as didn't sell enough tickets, and closed the upper level of the stadium. So we ended up with much better seats, and even improved on them by wandering up to maybe 15 meters from stage right. (Not quite as good as seeing him from about three meters away last year in Brooklyn, but still.) Sound was pretty bad for the first half of the show until somebody plugged in a loose cord or something and the stack of speakers pointed our way turned on. David was in fine form and chatty. The set list was the tried and true formula of a familiar opening, a mix of old and new, and a finish of old favorites. Highlights for me were Five Years and I'm Afraid of Americans (which he graciously prefaced by saying was about just a few Americans that he was afraid of).
At one point I happily pointed out to Marjorie that David Bowie has no ass! This is a beacon of hope for me, that a man can not only exist but actually thrive without one.
As the show ended we bolted for the taxi stand, and were first in the queue. Of course, no taxis came by, preferring to cruise around until called (for the bonus $3 surcharge). So eventually we had to call one, as did everyone else who was waiting. While they all disappeared one by one into their summoned cabs, we waited and waited for our guy who never showed. He eventually called us but couldn't figure out how to get to where we were, and wanted us to walk around the stadium and find him. Yeah right. We ended up walking out through the now-deserted parking lots until we got out on the main road a flagged another one down. Sometimes I really miss having a car.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Lots to report, no time to report it. Got back yesterday from visiting Pulau Tioman with our out-of-town guests. It was adventuresome; stories to follow. Back to work.
Sunday, February 29, 2004
It's Monday morning, and my software has gone on strike.
The program that I'm writing has suddenly decided to lay things out differently.
To modify the program, I need to check the appropriate file out of WinCVS, but WinCVS is crashing as soon as I open it.
I'm trying to upgrade it, but whenever I download a zip file using IE it comes up as an empty zip.
And to top it off, Mozilla mail is crashing every time I switch folders.
The program that I'm writing has suddenly decided to lay things out differently.
To modify the program, I need to check the appropriate file out of WinCVS, but WinCVS is crashing as soon as I open it.
I'm trying to upgrade it, but whenever I download a zip file using IE it comes up as an empty zip.
And to top it off, Mozilla mail is crashing every time I switch folders.
Sorry about the lack of updates... Our guests have been here since late Thursday and we've been busy running them ragged. Clarke Quay (Brewerkz), hawker centers, wet markets, Sungei Buloh nature preserve, Colbar, Cellar Door, lots of other stuff.
Still managed to sneak off and play soccer today; just a friendly intersquad game, and only enough for seven a side. Afterwards a guy on our team was giving me a lift home, and ran out of gas on the TPE (expressway). A small misadventure ensued involving some policemen and a couple of cabs. After finally getting home an hour and a half later, we took our guests to Little India for their Sunday night craziness, when the area gets inundated with young Indian men for their traditional night on the town. Had an overly spicy but very tasty meal at the [I forget the name], a subsidiary of the Apolo Banana Leaf restaurant.
Still managed to sneak off and play soccer today; just a friendly intersquad game, and only enough for seven a side. Afterwards a guy on our team was giving me a lift home, and ran out of gas on the TPE (expressway). A small misadventure ensued involving some policemen and a couple of cabs. After finally getting home an hour and a half later, we took our guests to Little India for their Sunday night craziness, when the area gets inundated with young Indian men for their traditional night on the town. Had an overly spicy but very tasty meal at the [I forget the name], a subsidiary of the Apolo Banana Leaf restaurant.
Monday, February 23, 2004
I was feeling adventurous at lunch today, so I had my first ever bowl of Fish Ball Noodle. It was really quite good, and not at all fishy. Somehow they make the fish balls have the consistency and uniformity of hard-boiled egg whites. There are lots of other things that come in ball form that I'll have to try. [Insert ball joke here.]
Weekend wrap-up. Friday night: Went to see Something's Gotta Give, and enjoyed it muchly. Saturday: Grocery shopped, hung by the pool. Reminisced about "wing night", so we showered up and went to Brewerkz and got wings and (very cheap) pitchers. Yum. Sunday: Soccer game for me at Turf City; tied 2-2. Almost scored on a header, but it was our own goal. Cooked up green mole chicken with tortillas, refried bean, Mexican rice, and chips; yum again. Watched a rental DVD, "Whale Rider" about a Maori village; very good. More exciting updates as events warrant.
Addendum: Oh, and we got buzzed by our second flying lizard, right as we were walking out of our apartment complex. We chased him up a tree.
Addendum: Oh, and we got buzzed by our second flying lizard, right as we were walking out of our apartment complex. We chased him up a tree.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Weirdie. Until the conversation with our dinner guests last night, it never dawned on me how often Australians shorten their words. We all know they're Aussies, not Australians, and cook on barbies, not barbecue -- but they also go to unis, not universities; they're from Tazzie, not Tasmania, and they eat brekkie, not breakfast. Any others I'm forgetting?
I've also noticed a Britishism from the Brit who sometimes drives me home from soccer. The "n't" contractions are used as little as possible, in favor of combining the to be and to have verbs with the subject. So it's "we've not..." instead of "we haven't...", and "Joe's not..." instead of "Joe isn't...". That's a subtler thing. Usually, he'll drop one or two of the wackier Britishisms every trip, like something being "sixes and sevens". (I wish I had written them all down.) The other day he made a wrong turn and said, "Woops, I think I dropped a bollock here..."
On a more disappointing note, they replaced the crazy Mandarin lady's voice on the MRT line that warns you to stand behind the yellow line. Of the four languages they speak it in, hers was the only one that was replaced, so they must've had complaints.
I've also noticed a Britishism from the Brit who sometimes drives me home from soccer. The "n't" contractions are used as little as possible, in favor of combining the to be and to have verbs with the subject. So it's "we've not..." instead of "we haven't...", and "Joe's not..." instead of "Joe isn't...". That's a subtler thing. Usually, he'll drop one or two of the wackier Britishisms every trip, like something being "sixes and sevens". (I wish I had written them all down.) The other day he made a wrong turn and said, "Woops, I think I dropped a bollock here..."
On a more disappointing note, they replaced the crazy Mandarin lady's voice on the MRT line that warns you to stand behind the yellow line. Of the four languages they speak it in, hers was the only one that was replaced, so they must've had complaints.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
Valentine's Day was very nice. A quiet dinner followed by (as Marjorie mentioned) a quiet evening at home with chocolate-covered strawberries, and champagne.
In other news... Goooooooaaaaaallll! Scored again today, on a decent shot from 25 yards out. Of course, it helped that the team we were playing weren't very good -- it was 4-nil at the half, and my goal made it six. At halftime our coach said he'd buy us ten pitchers later in the month if we reached 10 goals. We made it, on a penalty kick in injury time, for a final score of 10-2.
We've submitted our entry to the Metamorphosism limerick contest. Ours certainly isn't the best but at least it scans.
In other news... Goooooooaaaaaallll! Scored again today, on a decent shot from 25 yards out. Of course, it helped that the team we were playing weren't very good -- it was 4-nil at the half, and my goal made it six. At halftime our coach said he'd buy us ten pitchers later in the month if we reached 10 goals. We made it, on a penalty kick in injury time, for a final score of 10-2.
We've submitted our entry to the Metamorphosism limerick contest. Ours certainly isn't the best but at least it scans.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Lucid dreaming. Do you ever have "lucid dreams" -- the kind where you consciously know you're dreaming, and can control what goes on, at least to some extent? For a while I've been having them, mostly in the mornings in between alarm clock snoozes. There are certain things you supposedly can't do in these dreams, such as flick on and off a light switch -- apparently the part of your brain that controls what's going on can't handle the sudden change in lighting. Well, I've been particularly fascinated with trying to read in my lucid dreams. It's really strange; try "picking up a book and reading it" the next time you're lucid dreaming. Your dream-composer knows it's supposed to be filling in some sort of coherent story, but it can't do it that fast. So what you get (or at least what I get) is a string of almost random words, mostly grammatically correct, but with only just a hint of coherency. It's kind of exhilarating in a hard-to-define way.
I'm trying to figure out how to transcribe some of what my sleep-brain is composing. Sometimes it can go on for paragraph after paragraph, but whenever I try to hard to remember some of it, I pop back into consciousness with only the last few words in my memory.
I'm trying to figure out how to transcribe some of what my sleep-brain is composing. Sometimes it can go on for paragraph after paragraph, but whenever I try to hard to remember some of it, I pop back into consciousness with only the last few words in my memory.
Bike. I bought a bike today. It's a cheap little mountain bike, and I do mean cheap and little. Got it for S$35 (about US$20), and it's too small for me, but for the price, how could I say no? Basic transportation is a good thing.
It's been a couple of years since I've ridden a bicycle, but it turns out, it's just like riding a bicycle.
It's been a couple of years since I've ridden a bicycle, but it turns out, it's just like riding a bicycle.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
A walk on slippery rocks. Forgive my longwindedness tonight. I've decided to start trying to write more.
Tonight's subject is philosophy. No need to run screaming; I'm not going to share any of my personal opinions on the matter with you. I'm just going to talk about philosophy in general.
A while back I had a friend of a friend who was always cold to me, and I never knew why. Years later, I found out the answer. I turns out that when we first met, I found out she was a philosophy major in school, and apparently gave her a lot of grief about it. Now, I have no recollection of this happening. But it sounds like me. I've always thought philosophy to be a soft, and stupid, major. (Part of me was sorry, but another part thought, what philosophy is it that holds a grudge for three years? Don't you people debate a lot?)
Not that I think the subject is unimportant. Some days, it's all I think about. But in the field of philosophy, there seems to be no attempt to winnow out the truth. There's an old joke:
It's true, philosophy never throws anything away. Take any philosophy course, and you'll be taught mutually exclusive, even highly contradictory philosophies. Some may even be flatly disproven. And yet, they Must Be Taught. I think if a university professor ever tried to espouse a specific philosophy to students, and taught that this or that other philosophy is a complete failure (or worse, neglected to even teach it), they'd ride him or her out of there on a rail.
I've had people try to give me philosophy books to read. I've developed a nice system for dealing with them. The books usually consist of a logical form of argument -- state assumptions, draw inferences, reach conclusion -- and I can at least credit them for that. Usually. But I always see the whole thing as a big shaky tower, built up from the axioms. As such, I usually only read until I reach what I perceive is the first faulty inference. Then I think, if they're just going to build on this, why should I read on? The tower already will not stand. (Not that I could do any better. The small towers I have built for myself have failed to achieve any great unity or height.)
And usually I find that the conclusions these philosophers come to are the ones they were already convinced of before they started their formulating. Their ideas are always a product of their time and place. Like, Ayn Rand escapes communist Russia, becomes a fervent capitalist, then formulates a philosophy. Starting at first principles, she builds and builds upon them until she arrives at -- capitalism! What a surprise!
Okay, I'll say it. I'm basically an existentialist without the angst. If I even understand the term correctly.
I'm mostly through with Albert Camus' The Plague, which got me thinking on these lines. Obligatory quote:
Tonight's subject is philosophy. No need to run screaming; I'm not going to share any of my personal opinions on the matter with you. I'm just going to talk about philosophy in general.
A while back I had a friend of a friend who was always cold to me, and I never knew why. Years later, I found out the answer. I turns out that when we first met, I found out she was a philosophy major in school, and apparently gave her a lot of grief about it. Now, I have no recollection of this happening. But it sounds like me. I've always thought philosophy to be a soft, and stupid, major. (Part of me was sorry, but another part thought, what philosophy is it that holds a grudge for three years? Don't you people debate a lot?)
Not that I think the subject is unimportant. Some days, it's all I think about. But in the field of philosophy, there seems to be no attempt to winnow out the truth. There's an old joke:
A university dean, facing a budget crisis, decided to chide the head of the physics department. "Why do you need all this equipment for experiments?" he said. "Why can't you be more like the math department? All they need is paper, pencils, and a wastebasket. Or better still, be like the philosophy department. They don't even need the wastebasket!
It's true, philosophy never throws anything away. Take any philosophy course, and you'll be taught mutually exclusive, even highly contradictory philosophies. Some may even be flatly disproven. And yet, they Must Be Taught. I think if a university professor ever tried to espouse a specific philosophy to students, and taught that this or that other philosophy is a complete failure (or worse, neglected to even teach it), they'd ride him or her out of there on a rail.
I've had people try to give me philosophy books to read. I've developed a nice system for dealing with them. The books usually consist of a logical form of argument -- state assumptions, draw inferences, reach conclusion -- and I can at least credit them for that. Usually. But I always see the whole thing as a big shaky tower, built up from the axioms. As such, I usually only read until I reach what I perceive is the first faulty inference. Then I think, if they're just going to build on this, why should I read on? The tower already will not stand. (Not that I could do any better. The small towers I have built for myself have failed to achieve any great unity or height.)
And usually I find that the conclusions these philosophers come to are the ones they were already convinced of before they started their formulating. Their ideas are always a product of their time and place. Like, Ayn Rand escapes communist Russia, becomes a fervent capitalist, then formulates a philosophy. Starting at first principles, she builds and builds upon them until she arrives at -- capitalism! What a surprise!
Okay, I'll say it. I'm basically an existentialist without the angst. If I even understand the term correctly.
I'm mostly through with Albert Camus' The Plague, which got me thinking on these lines. Obligatory quote:
But the narrator is inclined to think that by attributing overimportance to praiseworthy actions one may, by implication, be paying indirect but potent homage to the worst side of human nature. For this attitude implies that such actions shine out as rare exceptions, while callousness and apathy are the general rule. The narrator does not share that view. The evil that is in the world always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn't the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill. The soul of the murderer is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clearsightedness.
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