Everyday hacks to be your best self
I was starting to get a little bored with my website so I’ve made some slight modifications. I’ve further stratified my blog categories into labels more specific than just “general” and “politics”.
I also ripped-off Monet for my new banner image–ah, he’s dead, he won’t mind. Now the only thing left to upgrade is the content! Don’t you worry, that’s next!
I thought of a neat little device for a cell phone. I call it the “People Scanner”. It works like this: it will be a built in device that will detect if there is more than one person around the cell phone. And in the event that the reading comes out positive, the phone will not ring for an incoming call, but instead direct the caller immediately to a voicemail.
I think this device would be really great. I also think I’m really great for coming up with it.
Cell phones have become a problem. It wasn’t so bad during the Zack Morris day of those large gray dumbbell-size phones. Back then, air charges were like 20$ a minute so your were limited to just using it for an emergency. But now, minutes are practically free, they number in the thousands, and they rollover and play dead, and do all sorts of stupid little tricks.
But we can’t just get rid of the phones. Nope. That would be impossible. Ever try to forcibly take back a toy you gave to a little toddler? It’s not a pretty site.
So cell phones can’t be removed, per se; we have to stick to other options. This may be one of those times when we have to just fight technology with technology. The Russians got a bow and arrow, someone please roll out that cannon. They upgrade to the Gattling gun, our engineers come out with air-to-ground laser guided missiles. They counter with the nuclear warhead, we tap our brightest researchers to come out with some good ol’ Ebola and some Super-Tiny Pox.
So for the Cell-phone problem, we may need to fight it with technology. But don’t turn those keys just yet, there may be a less nuclear solution. If the People Scanners are impractical, what about stationary jamming signals set up in those tight public spots were the true misanthropes of society lurk and bring their insipid conversations. The train-cars, the busses, the waiting rooms, the grocery stores, the classrooms, the ballgames, the MOVIE THEATERS, the outside, the inside, everywhere! should have installed Jamming signals, or EMP pulses– so what if your heart defibrillator stops working, at least you’ll die NOT knowing where the idiot next to you is meeting his friends for dinner.
Most of life is so dull that there is nothing to be said about it, and the books and talks that would describe it as interesting are obliged to exaggerate, in the hope of justifying their own existence. Inside its cocoon of work or social obligation, the human spirit slumbers for the most part, registering the distinction between pleasure and pain, but not nearly as alert as we pretend. There are periods in the most thrilling day during which nothing happens, and though we continue to exclaim, “I do enjoy myself,, or , “I am horrified,” we are insincere.
E.M. Forster from
A Passage to India
I finally got to read Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein the other day. I say the word “finally” because I bought this book years ago, during one of my high school book-buying binges. And even though it’s a relatively short book, I never gave it a shot, mainly because I felt I knew everything there is to know about Frankenstein:
Let’s see …
Tall, inherently evil, athletically-built SGM seeks SGW, having a penchant for slow walks with arms fixed straight ahead, who enjoys bellowing out incoherent grunts and monosyllabic words. [let your own preconceptions fill in the rest]
Well, after reading the book, I see now that I had a few things completely wrong. First of all, I always just assumed “Frankenstein” to be the name of the monster, I didn’t realize that the monster doesn’t really have a name, other than his possessive association with his creator: Dr Frankenstein’s monster.
Then another one of my preconceptions went sour, and in fact, became the exact opposite of what I expected. I imagined the monster to be very inarticulate, and if he had any written dialogue, I figured it would be as unreadable as Jim from Huckleberry Finn. But I was quite mistaken. He was extremely intelligible and even eloquent. Not to mention well-read, there is a mention of him reading Paradise Lost, and Plutarch’s Tales (the former being a book I struggled a bit with in my British Lit. class). The monster is plaintive and rational, with tender emotions that are quite hurt by the repeated responses he gets by humans, who do nothing but snap-judge him by his hideous looks and reach for arms. During one instance, the monster risks his life to save a little girl drowning in a nearby river, and is rewarded only by a shot gun shell to the chest. A gift of firewood to a starving indigent family is met by fear and hate, with yet another attempt at the monster’s life. And there were many more similar episodes. Largess rewarded by scorn, appeals to reason, retorted by violence; It felt like the label of monster was placed on the wrong group of people.
There also seems to be a splash of The Merchant of Venice influence. During one long sorrowful speech by the monster, I was almost expecting him to break down on his knees with: “Hath not a monster eyes? … if you prick us do we not bleed.”
Overall, the book is very well written and really an excellent story, I’d recommend it to anyone. It has such relevant themes, particularly on the grossness of ignorance, prejudice and preconceptions, and how in this regard the ostensibly intelligent, like the learned Dr. Frankenstein, can be ruefully stupid. I initially avoided reading this book due to my own assumption of what I would find–which inturn made the book’s message, that much more effective.
I can’t believe I’ve finally graduated. In fact, the thought never really hits me until someone else mentions it, and that is usually followed by a lifted glass towards my direction–and plenty of smiles.
The last five years have been quite an experience, to say the least. But I suppose five years of anything can be considered “quite an experience.â€
There was my brief episode of being an English major, fomented mostly by the physics and math classes that I was never too good at. It’s a fact; I can’t do simple math; I can’t do complicated math either. It’s really quite embarrassing.
But I ended up switching my major again, back to computers. And then some how or another I muscled through it. So here I am. Another green computer scientist, fatted up with 5 years of schooling like a prized hog, and now ready for the workforce.
Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d !
I got to see Star Wars III the other day with my good friend Laboss and my cousin Lalith. We were able to see the film a little early through my mother, whose company handed out sneak preview tickets to each employee; I guess received as a reflected incentive for Hasbro’s commercial partnership with Lucas Studios in creating all sorts of neat little figurines like the uber-cute Mr. Potato head Darth Vader, and plush, verdant, Yoda dolls that also cute they are. Anyway, I’m going to seize this opportunity to throw my two cents at this movie.
Let me start be mentioning the obvious. The original Star Wars IV, V, and VI, were absolutely brilliant. And although they didn’t have the hi-tech CGI luster that the new I, II, and III have, the script was so solid and engaging, that were it performed in the globe theater with little more than pine floors and a dozen oddly placed load-bearing columns, the story itself would have stood ground.
But, I’m afraid, I can’t say the same about these recent 3 Star Wars films. The effects were dazzling, and I dare say, “too” dazzling, but it was completely lacking in story. If you were to consolidate the fight scenes in this last move, part III, which looked so rehearsed and were so onerous to watch, it would easily take up a little less than half the run-time of the entire movie. As for the story, it was predictable. Most of the fighting involved either Obi Wan Kenobi or Anakin Skywalker. And every fight scene with Obi Wan, I knew would leave Obi Wan the victor, seeing how he has to make an appearance in Star Wars IV. Every Fight scene with Anakin Skywalker, I knew, would leave Anakin the victor, again for the same reason. The love scenes with Anakin and Padme made me want to vomit. Hayden Christiansen for the most part had a frightful performance. And, the movie’s dialogue was just plain bad.
Futhermore, all the screens were too brilliantly rendered with computer graphics that it made every scene seem more like concept drawings, rather than a palpable reality. Also, is there really a need to preface every Star Wars film with the most complicated of short narratives? Maybe it’s just me, but I find the introductory scrolling yellow text to be a little too complicated a story to be planting in the beginning of a film— especially when you have only a few seconds to read it. Okay: so the separatist movement of the republic has lost momentum in the unanimous confirmation of the senators to deter Chancellor Palatine’s movement to commend the release… boy it’s tedious to read.
I know what I like in Science Fiction, and these last 3 Star War’s films were not it. I found all the little quips extremely corny and irritating. The fighting was a complete bore. The story was completely predictable and lacking. In Short, this film gets my two thumbs down disapproval.
I have been set with the task of writing a review on the University Chorus and Concert Choir’s performance on April 30, 2005 of Gabriel Faure’s Requiem. Let me first start off candidly and admit that my concert-viewing experience is quite limited–especially with chorus concerts. The only recent memories I have of seeing someone physically singing are sorrowfully limited to the dreadful impromptu talent in Fox’s American Idol, the obligatory ballgame anthems, and of course, the garish perennial SuperBowl halftime shows. So although I may not have the requisite expertise and experience to make what would be considered a thorough and informed review of Saturday’s URI chorus concert, I will give it an honest effort and commit this task to the best of my ability.
Let me first start of by making note of the key figures of Saturday’s concert. I have already mentioned the two chorus groups: the Univerity Chorus and the Concert Choir. The directing of the night’s performance was shared by Carolina Flores and Mark Conley, and the man-on-the-piano (for lack of a better term), was Eric Mazonson. All of whom, performed quite aptly—at least I think so. Let me put it this way, if there were any mistakes, they were expertly inconspicuous.
The chorus also performed quite well and I was very much impressed at the talent. I would like to share a small comment on the piece sung by the Univerity Chorus called “Now from the World (The light of God is Gone)â€. This piece had a musical accompaniment with Michelle Gorgone playing the clarinet. Although Michelle did an excellent job with her part, I felt the piece as a whole sounded a little awkward with the clarinet. The unsteady dynamics of the clarinet (which I assume were unintentional) made the steady vocals drift in-and-out of hearing.
The mood set by the concert was—to say the least—melancholy. I understood very little of the lyrics when they were being sung by the chorus, but the melodies from each of the songs were mellifluous and pleasant to the ear. The final piece, Requiem Op.48 was also quite enjoyable to listen to. And you’ll have to excuse my more summary-like analysis of this concert. The different pieces seemed to mix together so fluidly, and the tones all sounded so similar, that it is a little hard to focus on individual pieces so much as the concert as a whole.
So on that note, let me just say that in summary, I quite enjoyed my experience in attendance at the URI Chorus Concert of Faure’s Requiem. I found the whole thing to be quite a successful display of vocal talent, and from my observations of the other spectators watching the concert—they seemed to enjoy it as well. Well done!
I went to Subway for lunch today with Kathy, one of my work mates. After waiting in the line for our turn to order, Kathy was up.
“Ummm.. I’ll have a Veggie sub on Italian bread”.
I quickly seized the opportunity to make fun of her for it. “Kathy, that’s not a sandwich; that’s a salad on bread.” When it was my turn, I ordered an Italian BMT, the meatier the better. I have no reservations against eating meat. In fact, if I can swing it, I’ll have it breakfast, lunch, dinner, in-between meals, inside my Powerbar, puréed into my water (just kidding). But you get the picture, I like meat.
Well, there is nothing peculiar with Kathy’s abstention from meat. Albeit, it suddenly dawned on me while sitting at the booth mauling my BMT that Kathy’s newfound vegetarianism is just that, “newly†founded. I could of swore that a few months prior, she had participated with me in seeing how disgusting Subway’s “Barbequed Pork” sandwich really was. In fact, I remember being confused cause she actually liked the darn thing. Anyway, this brought up a rather interesting and lengthy conversation I had with her on her newfound vegetarianism.
I attempted to get some answers, “So, are you doing this for health reasons, or do you just have moral reservations against harming animals for consumption?” She answers, “neither… it’s actually a long story”. The plot thickens. “Okay, so you just don’t like the taste of meat?”. “No, it’s not that”. Now she had me completely confused. “Well, there has to be some reason..”. “It’s a little complicated” she retorted. She wasn’t making this easy.
“Okay Kathy, there has to be some way you can sum this up in one sentence”. She tries. “I don’t think humans are meant to eat meat.”
Kathy’s conviction: human’s are just not supposed to eat meat– we are physiologically engineered as herbivores. She further backs up this claim by a study she read that had produced results supporting the notion that a diet with meat in it, leads to a higher risk of developing various ailments: cancer, heart disease, etc. A strictly vegetarian diet is allegedly healthier and in a way, is it’s own preventive measure against illness later-on in life. Also, our long intestines are typical of herbivores, since the complex nutritional elements in plant-life take longer to break down. And the opposite is true with carnivores; They have smaller intestines in order to process meat quicker, purging it from the system before it becomes deleterious.
Our conversation was overheard by a woman sitting behind us, who, before leaving the restaurant, put her five-cents into the discussion. “I don’t mean to interrupt, or eavesdrop into your conversation, but how does this explain canines”. We were taken aback by this stranger accosting our conversation, so my immediate reaction was to smile and say “good point”.
But, it’s an interesting question. Are we really supposed to eat meat, as a species? We’re also the only carnivores who go through the trouble of preparing our meats– cooking them. Maybe there is some merit to Kathy’s argument. Who knows? I just thought it was an interesting point-of-view. One I’ve never heard before.
God I love spring.
I finally replaced the old rusty basketball hoop in my yard with a new one. The old one served me well for over 10 years and I have so many fond memories of that hoop. I remember the whole process of putting it together. My cousin was living at our house at the time, and as just a callow little boy, I didn’t play a huge part in the assembly process. The breaking of the existing blacktop, the 2 feet deep hole we dug up to bury a portion of the pole , the 2 days-which felt like weeks- of waiting for the cement to harden, I was just an impatient observer of its construction. But when it was finally put together, I spent so much time in my yard shooting hoops, meeting new friends in my neighborhood–who all seemed to gravitate to my new hoop; so many great memories.
But time doesn’t discriminate–even for basketball hoops. After a decade of attrition, piece-by-piece of my hoop started to come apart. First the mechanism that raised and lowered the hoop, started to malfunction, and then broke off. Then the rim started to bend so that it was no longer parallel to the ground. And then, the rim broke off completely :'(. Now it was just a backboard. A sad sight.
Then came the Winter of Despair. This last winter, during a night of a frightfully powerful storm, the wind came and tore down the backboard of my hoop. Now it was just a pole–a rusty, despondent, semi-black pole.
But last weekend, I replaced the whole thing. This time I did most of the assembly, although my cousin (a different cousin) helped a bit.
The first shot I took on my new hoop: a brick! The ball bounced off the rim and landed back into my hands, as though the hoop completely rejected my attempt.
So although the new hoop is brand new and glossy black, I’m still a little rusty. And maybe I am getting a wee-bit maudlin about something as material as a basketball hoop. But it’s sure nice to look out through the window and see a brand new hoop again.
Sometimes when I’m bored at church, I start perusing the only book I have available at the time, the Bible. But at these moments of boredom in church, I am not looking for spiritual insight, or a revelation of some kind; I am just looking for a story, something to pass the time. So as can be imagined, I don’t turn to something cryptic like Psalms, or the longwinded soap-opera in Esther, or the oh-so-aphorismic Proverbs, or the tad too sanctimonious Gospels. No, my storybook predilections are satisfied elsewhere. My favorite: Genesis and the Creation Story.
I know in keeping with political correctness, it’s often wise to tip-toe through word-choice when talking about the Bible. Some may take offence by my referring to early Genesis as a ‘Story’—it has a somewhat fictional connation. But words are so limiting. I’m not intimating that the events that occurred during the Creation Story are apocryphal–but they do contain a haze of storybook technique that can make it, how can I say, open to interpretation. Where do we draw the line between allegory and the literal?
The Creation Story is full of symbols, contrasts, poetry … antistrophe. Where some items are taken at face value, others are taken to be more than what they seem. The serpent beguiling Eve is almost always interpreted as more than just a reptile, but a symbol for the Devil. Some say the “days” referred to in the intervals of creation are actually the equivalent of 1000 of our years. The nakedness of man, as the purity of existence–a time without sin.
And If we do contend that the story is an allegory, and that the serpent’s curse of being forced to slither without feet is the Devil’s expatriation to hell, and that this speaks of that, and that speaks of this, couldn’t it also be considered that none of it should be taken literally? Man is not really man, the garden is not really a garden. That the forming of heaven and earth out of the void are all in fact symbols to something else. Are we even allowed to venture forth and explore our own interpretation?
The thing with symbolism and allegory, is that: you may be adamant, but you can never be certain. The Wizard of Oz may fall neatly as an allegory of the Guided Age, but it doesn’t have to be. In fact, even if Garland insists–once written–I think it’s beyond the author’s purview to confirm or deny one’s interpretation.
Story for some; history for others–take it for all in all.