2009 was about...
The better half, now the only one
Bonds old and bonds new
Two weddings and one more
Half-decent photographs and a really good camera
40 books, a dozen too few
Turkey, Australia, Chiang Mai
Tioman and the Great Barrier Reef
Many a step, and many more miles
Of flatmates come and flatmates gone
The ghost of unemployment
The cholesterol no more
The Economist audio edition
A personal financial milestone
This blog
Not a cent in the stock market rebound
The unwritten book
Too little exercise
Not enough home-cooked food
Going to work, getting nowhere
Family sinews done, undone, redone
A language not learnt
A mountain not climbed
A life without music
An existence without a cause
Wednesday 30 December 2009
Monday 28 December 2009
Friday 4 December 2009
Solitude
It is finally here. Tomorrow. From here on, it will be our shared solitude. You and me, and the universe.
I am so happy we have arrived. Yet, the journey begins now. And, I am thrilled that I get to carry our bags.
I look forward to the beginning of the rest of our lives.
Mi amor.
I am so happy we have arrived. Yet, the journey begins now. And, I am thrilled that I get to carry our bags.
I look forward to the beginning of the rest of our lives.
Mi amor.
Thursday 3 December 2009
Down Under
Was excellent. I have had my fill.
2300 km on the road. 7 flights. 65 hours and 4300 km on a train between the two great oceans. Diving in the Great Barrier Reef. Sydney, always special. Beautiful Adelaide of the Don. Rainforests, waterfalls, riversides, beaches, deserts, sheep stations, goldfields, wineries. Hamlets in the middle of nowhere, Cook, Forrest, Broken Hill. Sunrise and sunset. Uluru and Kata Tjuta. Kings Canyon. Backpackers. Daniel Huertas in seat R3. Walkabout. Wallabies and camels.
And, time with my little brother. Not so little any more.
2300 km on the road. 7 flights. 65 hours and 4300 km on a train between the two great oceans. Diving in the Great Barrier Reef. Sydney, always special. Beautiful Adelaide of the Don. Rainforests, waterfalls, riversides, beaches, deserts, sheep stations, goldfields, wineries. Hamlets in the middle of nowhere, Cook, Forrest, Broken Hill. Sunrise and sunset. Uluru and Kata Tjuta. Kings Canyon. Backpackers. Daniel Huertas in seat R3. Walkabout. Wallabies and camels.
And, time with my little brother. Not so little any more.
Thursday 22 October 2009
Tuesday 13 October 2009
Prospects
All around me, I see evidence of how an MBA has the remarkable power to positively change the prospects of an individual, without effecting any change in his constitution.
And, I wonder.
And, I wonder.
Sunday 11 October 2009
Ouch
The Kindle International will not be available in a few countries. Singapore proudly joins that list.
Ouch.
Ouch.
Friday 9 October 2009
Bind
I am in a bind about bound books. The Kindle goes international. Question for self: Is it that I love books? Or, is it that I love reading? Or, both?
As it was pointed out to me, there is a subtle difference. The neon signs always say Books, Music, Cafe. Not Books, CDs, Cafe.
For now, let me say Woohoo !!!
As it was pointed out to me, there is a subtle difference. The neon signs always say Books, Music, Cafe. Not Books, CDs, Cafe.
For now, let me say Woohoo !!!
Thursday 8 October 2009
Presence
Here I am again, writing a tribute to a colleague. This time, it's not about someone who is leaving. But, about someone who is present, just the right way.
I could say that I am largely pleased with my job. Its outcomes are within the reach of my abilities, yet I do have to stand on tiptoe and reach out over my head, once in a while. It puts what I know to good use, yet requires me to look out the window once in a while, to pick up a different point of view and to spot something new. It excites me without making me obsess about it. It keeps me occupied without becoming my preoccupation. It keeps me on the rails to where I tend to vaguely point as my career destination. It pays the bills and some.
Then, there is someone who takes all this and makes it all the more worthwhile. This person: trusts me; believes me; believes in me; likes to teach me; wants to learn from me; cheers for me; chides me; rudely wakes me up when I start to doze off on my feet; leaves me to my work; congratulates me on a job well done; is a bit like me; thinks like me; knows what I am thinking; reminds me to stretch out a little bit; convinces me that I can achieve more by stretching out a little bit; watches out for me; protects me; challenges my ideas; opens up my perspectives; tells me that I am doing well; knows that I am not happy with just doing well; gives me opportunities; gives me second chances... in many ways, is the most important person at work.
In these difficult times, that is a little more than I could reasonably hope for. And, a lot more than I should be allowed to waste.
I could say that I am largely pleased with my job. Its outcomes are within the reach of my abilities, yet I do have to stand on tiptoe and reach out over my head, once in a while. It puts what I know to good use, yet requires me to look out the window once in a while, to pick up a different point of view and to spot something new. It excites me without making me obsess about it. It keeps me occupied without becoming my preoccupation. It keeps me on the rails to where I tend to vaguely point as my career destination. It pays the bills and some.
Then, there is someone who takes all this and makes it all the more worthwhile. This person: trusts me; believes me; believes in me; likes to teach me; wants to learn from me; cheers for me; chides me; rudely wakes me up when I start to doze off on my feet; leaves me to my work; congratulates me on a job well done; is a bit like me; thinks like me; knows what I am thinking; reminds me to stretch out a little bit; convinces me that I can achieve more by stretching out a little bit; watches out for me; protects me; challenges my ideas; opens up my perspectives; tells me that I am doing well; knows that I am not happy with just doing well; gives me opportunities; gives me second chances... in many ways, is the most important person at work.
In these difficult times, that is a little more than I could reasonably hope for. And, a lot more than I should be allowed to waste.
Wednesday 30 September 2009
Underwater
I am so happy that I have resumed diving - after a four-year break. Tioman is beautiful, and the five dives over the weekend were great. More importantly, they were incident-free; except the first dive where I made an uncontrolled ascent. Fortunately, I did not panic, I continued breathing and I was more amused than anxious. It was actually funny to look down at my dive buddies trying to find me, while I was gently drifting up away from them, trying to get their attention, with no way of contacting them.
We were even fortunate enough to spot turtles on the last dive.
I made some interesting acquaintances, and listened to some interesting stories. The weather was perfect, except on the way home. We rode a private speedboat across the open sea, in pouring rain, with apocalyptic lightning and thunderbolts all round. We waited on a park bench for two hours for a chartered bus that never came.
Diving has a sedative effect. An intoxicating effect, even. It gives you the space that you crave for every moment of your cramped life, and fills that space with perfect aquamarine and beautiful sealife. It leaves you suspended in every dimension. It makes you feel like you are performing only the basic functions - breathing, being present, existing. I did not take easily to water in the beginning. Now, I thrive underwater. The Great Barrier Reef, here I come.
Underwater. Is how my fiance's family found their house over the weekend. A particularly strong typhoon, record rainfall in decades and eight feet under. Cherished property, irreversibly damaged. Precious keepsakes, irretrievably lost. Fortunately, that was the total extent of the damage. The house will live again. The home will return.
Nature's fury continues. The Philippines. Viet Nam. American Samoa. Underwater.
We were even fortunate enough to spot turtles on the last dive.
I made some interesting acquaintances, and listened to some interesting stories. The weather was perfect, except on the way home. We rode a private speedboat across the open sea, in pouring rain, with apocalyptic lightning and thunderbolts all round. We waited on a park bench for two hours for a chartered bus that never came.
Diving has a sedative effect. An intoxicating effect, even. It gives you the space that you crave for every moment of your cramped life, and fills that space with perfect aquamarine and beautiful sealife. It leaves you suspended in every dimension. It makes you feel like you are performing only the basic functions - breathing, being present, existing. I did not take easily to water in the beginning. Now, I thrive underwater. The Great Barrier Reef, here I come.
Underwater. Is how my fiance's family found their house over the weekend. A particularly strong typhoon, record rainfall in decades and eight feet under. Cherished property, irreversibly damaged. Precious keepsakes, irretrievably lost. Fortunately, that was the total extent of the damage. The house will live again. The home will return.
Nature's fury continues. The Philippines. Viet Nam. American Samoa. Underwater.
Disruption
In the year of our Lord 2009, or the year of the gasoline-powered automobile 123, a reputable energy research firm writes, "Petroleum will still be the dominant fuel for the transportation sector 25 years from now. No truly disruptive technologies are yet on the horizon, and today’s alternative fuels and technologies can only gain market share slowly owing to the slow turnover of the capital stock of cars, trucks, and airplanes that use petroleum." Fair enough.
Nevertheless, I am very worried. I work in the oil business. I know how to operate machinery that makes gasoline, diesel and aviation fuel from petroleum. My fiance's skills are not very different from mine. If the prediction above turns out to be just wishful thinking, we can kiss our careers good-bye.
One well-regarded business personality, Andy Grove, has suggested that gasoline and automobiles are headed for a divorce. Another rather dynamic business personality, Shai Agassi, has made it his life's mission to help that divorce along on its way, through Better Place. The sage of Omaha has at some point invested in BYD.
I am beginning to be convinced. One really smart or really persistent inventor comes up with a cheap, long-range battery, and the gasoline house comes tumbling down. Even otherwise, today's batteries will grow into cheap, long-range batteries over time. Electrification moves the pollution from an untamable mass of individual voters to a power plant that you can point at and shoot. It comes with potential improvements in efficiency of energy use, carbon capture and carbon subsitution. It is easier to build a solar power plant than to put a solar panel on everybody's car. Guilty drivers who can afford it will gleefully swap a smoky tailpipe for a zero-emission battery electric.
Something is afoot. Our kids will drive to their jobs in cars that are very different. Perhaps, we will drive to our jobs in cars that are very different. Perhaps, my fiance and I will need jobs that are very different.
Anybody buying the Tesla Roadster?
Nevertheless, I am very worried. I work in the oil business. I know how to operate machinery that makes gasoline, diesel and aviation fuel from petroleum. My fiance's skills are not very different from mine. If the prediction above turns out to be just wishful thinking, we can kiss our careers good-bye.
One well-regarded business personality, Andy Grove, has suggested that gasoline and automobiles are headed for a divorce. Another rather dynamic business personality, Shai Agassi, has made it his life's mission to help that divorce along on its way, through Better Place. The sage of Omaha has at some point invested in BYD.
I am beginning to be convinced. One really smart or really persistent inventor comes up with a cheap, long-range battery, and the gasoline house comes tumbling down. Even otherwise, today's batteries will grow into cheap, long-range batteries over time. Electrification moves the pollution from an untamable mass of individual voters to a power plant that you can point at and shoot. It comes with potential improvements in efficiency of energy use, carbon capture and carbon subsitution. It is easier to build a solar power plant than to put a solar panel on everybody's car. Guilty drivers who can afford it will gleefully swap a smoky tailpipe for a zero-emission battery electric.
Something is afoot. Our kids will drive to their jobs in cars that are very different. Perhaps, we will drive to our jobs in cars that are very different. Perhaps, my fiance and I will need jobs that are very different.
Anybody buying the Tesla Roadster?
Thursday 17 September 2009
Focus
Start Task A; Work on Task A; Finish Task A;
Start Task B; Work on Task B; Finish Task B;
Start Task C... and so on.
That would be ideal.
vs. Start Task A; Check email; Work on Task A; Reply to email; Start Task B; Work on Task A; Work on Task B; Check news; Start instant message conversation; Check email; Start Task B (oops, I have already done that); Blog a bit; Finish Task A... and so on.
And, that is a skill that I need to pick up soon.
Start Task B; Work on Task B; Finish Task B;
Start Task C... and so on.
That would be ideal.
vs. Start Task A; Check email; Work on Task A; Reply to email; Start Task B; Work on Task A; Work on Task B; Check news; Start instant message conversation; Check email; Start Task B (oops, I have already done that); Blog a bit; Finish Task A... and so on.
And, that is a skill that I need to pick up soon.
Sunday 6 September 2009
Sunday 30 August 2009
Flop
And, then there is this little project that flopped.
My feeble attempt at actually 'making' something for her birthday gift turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. It failed on all levels, which means I have a long way to go before I can create something that I don't have to immediately hide away.
Oh, well...
My feeble attempt at actually 'making' something for her birthday gift turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. It failed on all levels, which means I have a long way to go before I can create something that I don't have to immediately hide away.
Oh, well...
Tyranny
The tyranny of the shopping mall.
Almost everyone I know agrees that ION Orchard is a mall with a truly hideous exterior. The architecture is tasteless and possibly ugly. Exclusive brand names that adorn the entrance serve as dissuasive sentries. Until this morning, I had not dared to step in. Finally, I summoned up the courage to enter and to wander about aimlessly.
I was crushed. There is not a single store occupying those few thousand square metres, where I can actually afford to buy something. In fact, most of those stores only sell things that I will NEVER be able and willing to pay for. I found myself frustrating a shop assistant who was watching over $200,000 clocks. I spotted a Marmalade Pantry outlet and was justifiably overjoyed... only to be completely crushed again. It was 1130 am, almost every table was empty, yet I was quietly informed that the next open reservation was at 230 pm. I was to queue up with ghosts.
I realised that I had to get out right away. And, I did. My feet carried me to the only refuge that could heal. The only store where I feel I WANT to possess the wares on display. Kinokuniya next door. All six volumes of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire are in stock in Everyman's Classic Hardcover.
That will be for another day.
Almost everyone I know agrees that ION Orchard is a mall with a truly hideous exterior. The architecture is tasteless and possibly ugly. Exclusive brand names that adorn the entrance serve as dissuasive sentries. Until this morning, I had not dared to step in. Finally, I summoned up the courage to enter and to wander about aimlessly.
I was crushed. There is not a single store occupying those few thousand square metres, where I can actually afford to buy something. In fact, most of those stores only sell things that I will NEVER be able and willing to pay for. I found myself frustrating a shop assistant who was watching over $200,000 clocks. I spotted a Marmalade Pantry outlet and was justifiably overjoyed... only to be completely crushed again. It was 1130 am, almost every table was empty, yet I was quietly informed that the next open reservation was at 230 pm. I was to queue up with ghosts.
I realised that I had to get out right away. And, I did. My feet carried me to the only refuge that could heal. The only store where I feel I WANT to possess the wares on display. Kinokuniya next door. All six volumes of Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire are in stock in Everyman's Classic Hardcover.
That will be for another day.
Friday 28 August 2009
Prejudice
I have been reading Democracy in America, de Tocqueville's epic political travelogue. It is a monumental read. I am beginning to realise why it is such a great book.
At times, I can't put it down. At other times, I can't seem to read more than a few pages at a time, simply due to the sheer weight of content. Clearly, it is not the easiest of evening lounge reads. It is rigorous political discourse, full of contemplation, speculation and opinion.
Sometimes, I wonder if it is the kind of book I would write. Not for the depth of expertise, the keenness of observation, or the quality of writing, but for the conviction with which he blatantly defends some of his prejudices. To be fair, most of them are just prejudices of time and place, which we may slight thanks to the benefit of hindsight.
And, of course, there is the evident Wanderlust.
At times, I can't put it down. At other times, I can't seem to read more than a few pages at a time, simply due to the sheer weight of content. Clearly, it is not the easiest of evening lounge reads. It is rigorous political discourse, full of contemplation, speculation and opinion.
Sometimes, I wonder if it is the kind of book I would write. Not for the depth of expertise, the keenness of observation, or the quality of writing, but for the conviction with which he blatantly defends some of his prejudices. To be fair, most of them are just prejudices of time and place, which we may slight thanks to the benefit of hindsight.
And, of course, there is the evident Wanderlust.
Wednesday 12 August 2009
Tuesday 11 August 2009
Lookback
So...
Friday: Expensive camera lens. Hole in pocket not so big. No filter accessories. Too many varieties. Dizzy. Dinner with high school friends. Favourite. Cafe Iguana. Nachos. Sol. Stories from the girls. 30. Exercise vs. aging.
Saturday: Unalarmed. Simply bread. Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Mango Mucho. Rabbit, Run. Couch. Makan Mumbai dinner.
Sunday: Family Matters. Hungry. Chemistry tuition. Homecooked Indian meal. Couch. Family Matters. Australia plans. Uluru into itinerary. Sunset photos at Bukit Batok Nature Reserve with new lens. Stuffed Parathas.
Monday: Oatmeal breakfast. Couch. Family Matters. Heritage - Copthorne Orchid soon. End of an era. Diving Manual. Wetsuit elation. Swimming pool. Bread and jam. Travel bookings. 50 dive destinations.
Nice.
Friday: Expensive camera lens. Hole in pocket not so big. No filter accessories. Too many varieties. Dizzy. Dinner with high school friends. Favourite. Cafe Iguana. Nachos. Sol. Stories from the girls. 30. Exercise vs. aging.
Saturday: Unalarmed. Simply bread. Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. Mango Mucho. Rabbit, Run. Couch. Makan Mumbai dinner.
Sunday: Family Matters. Hungry. Chemistry tuition. Homecooked Indian meal. Couch. Family Matters. Australia plans. Uluru into itinerary. Sunset photos at Bukit Batok Nature Reserve with new lens. Stuffed Parathas.
Monday: Oatmeal breakfast. Couch. Family Matters. Heritage - Copthorne Orchid soon. End of an era. Diving Manual. Wetsuit elation. Swimming pool. Bread and jam. Travel bookings. 50 dive destinations.
Nice.
Technology
Just initiated a room booking on Google chat with the hotel Reservations desk.
Last month, there was one that I completed through Facebook.
Times are changing.
Last month, there was one that I completed through Facebook.
Times are changing.
Monday 10 August 2009
Relief
I managed to get into my diving wetsuit without any trouble... after four years, it still fits...
Sunday 9 August 2009
Words
It is such a gift to be able to write. Write well, that is...
Perhaps an even greater gift to be able to read what is written...
Yet, so many of us do not. And, a thought for those who just cannot...
What would we be without the magic of the written word? The charm unleashed when it is read...
Perhaps an even greater gift to be able to read what is written...
Yet, so many of us do not. And, a thought for those who just cannot...
What would we be without the magic of the written word? The charm unleashed when it is read...
Saturday 8 August 2009
Thursday 6 August 2009
Degrees
Triathlon was good. I get to say that I completed a triathlon, when all I did was run 5 km without undue stress. I have a finisher's medal and a t-shirt to show for it. Mixed relay sprint triathlon. A swims 750 m in rough open sea, B cycles 20 km, and then, it's my turn to stroll. Clearly, I got the better end of the bargain. I won't complain given that someone died there the next day, swimming the olympic distance (may his soul rest in peace). Saw Danny Bhadran huffing and puffing by, in a different category. He lives two blocks from my place, I don't see him in two years, and we end up huffing and puffing at the same event. I really enjoyed meeting two random people from work, getting together as a team and cheering one another on. I can't describe how delirious we were when we finally saw our swimmer step on to solid ground or when we led our cyclist in at the end of her third lap. We finished 32nd in a group of 44 teams, but all we had set out to do was finish.
Istana was bad. First time I volunteered to go on an outing with a photography group (come on, Parth does not count as a group). It sucked. First, it was the day after my triathlon. Second, there was a one-hour queue to get in (to the Istana - would you believe it?). Third, there was absolutely nothing worth mentioning at the end of that queue, beyond those magical gates. Fourth, photography group consisted of one hot chick and a few exasperating male enthusiasts who could not resist throwing an unsolicited tip or two my way, every time they passed me by. Of course, they all had vastly superior kit. Almost every unsolicited tip involved getting more expensive kit (as if I did not already know that). And, it was so unbearably hot.
Bump on the head was (is) worse. Flagged a taxi at a traffic light. Rushed to get in. Left out a little bit of the skull just above the level of the taxi's roof. Ravi and I had a good laugh about it. This morning, boss scared the everything out of me, and insisted that I see a doctor. Doctor says all is well. Everything is still in the right place. There is not even a gash. All I need to do is not throw up in the next twenty-eight hours.
Long weekend ahead. Must... Buy expensive camera kit and take to Pulau Ubin. Meet high school buddies. Finish reading diving manual and dare to try fitting into old wetsuit. Swim. Resume cooking. Run in preparation for 6 km stroll. Do wedding stuff. Make Chiang Mai, Greece, Australia bookings. Watch World War 2 documentaries.
Does not seem very long now...
Istana was bad. First time I volunteered to go on an outing with a photography group (come on, Parth does not count as a group). It sucked. First, it was the day after my triathlon. Second, there was a one-hour queue to get in (to the Istana - would you believe it?). Third, there was absolutely nothing worth mentioning at the end of that queue, beyond those magical gates. Fourth, photography group consisted of one hot chick and a few exasperating male enthusiasts who could not resist throwing an unsolicited tip or two my way, every time they passed me by. Of course, they all had vastly superior kit. Almost every unsolicited tip involved getting more expensive kit (as if I did not already know that). And, it was so unbearably hot.
Bump on the head was (is) worse. Flagged a taxi at a traffic light. Rushed to get in. Left out a little bit of the skull just above the level of the taxi's roof. Ravi and I had a good laugh about it. This morning, boss scared the everything out of me, and insisted that I see a doctor. Doctor says all is well. Everything is still in the right place. There is not even a gash. All I need to do is not throw up in the next twenty-eight hours.
Long weekend ahead. Must... Buy expensive camera kit and take to Pulau Ubin. Meet high school buddies. Finish reading diving manual and dare to try fitting into old wetsuit. Swim. Resume cooking. Run in preparation for 6 km stroll. Do wedding stuff. Make Chiang Mai, Greece, Australia bookings. Watch World War 2 documentaries.
Does not seem very long now...
Thursday 30 July 2009
Constancy
From Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns...
There is a part about the parents of Laila (one of two key characters) - Babi and Mammy - and their relationship after the death of Laila's two brothers fighting for the Mujahideen. Mammy goes into a sort of self-imposed shell and becomes completely detached from her day-to-day obligations, while the war is becoming worse all around. Babi is really worried about the family's safety and wishes to move them out to Pakistan and a new life, but his feeble entreaties get him nowhere as Mammy is set on staying behind in the watan where her sons lost their lives. Babi resolves to stay on by Mammy's side.
Laila remarks to herself that Mammy has always accused Babi of being a man of no conviction. If only Mammy would look into a mirror, she would see Babi's one conviction right there - herself.
To say that an absolute belief in the constancy of a marital relationship, and an immutable devotion to the spouse irrespective of the circumstances are commendable ends in themselves...
There is a part about the parents of Laila (one of two key characters) - Babi and Mammy - and their relationship after the death of Laila's two brothers fighting for the Mujahideen. Mammy goes into a sort of self-imposed shell and becomes completely detached from her day-to-day obligations, while the war is becoming worse all around. Babi is really worried about the family's safety and wishes to move them out to Pakistan and a new life, but his feeble entreaties get him nowhere as Mammy is set on staying behind in the watan where her sons lost their lives. Babi resolves to stay on by Mammy's side.
Laila remarks to herself that Mammy has always accused Babi of being a man of no conviction. If only Mammy would look into a mirror, she would see Babi's one conviction right there - herself.
To say that an absolute belief in the constancy of a marital relationship, and an immutable devotion to the spouse irrespective of the circumstances are commendable ends in themselves...
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Lingua
The Sardar lunch dude is originally from Pakistani Punjab, but now Singaporean. His mother tongue is Punjabi. Mine is Tamil. So, we use Hindi, when I order.
Today, a local Singaporean Tamil was ordering lunch. In Malay. Many years in Singapore, and they have both picked up their share of Malay. That's the wavelength where they connect.
Today, a local Singaporean Tamil was ordering lunch. In Malay. Many years in Singapore, and they have both picked up their share of Malay. That's the wavelength where they connect.
Friday 24 July 2009
Nations
I actually know a guy from Hutt River, though I'd really like to get to know someone from Sealand.
Thursday 23 July 2009
Wednesday 22 July 2009
Restless
A strange listlessness overwhelms me. It's driving me crazy.
What's my place?
And this too shall pass?
What's my place?
And this too shall pass?
Tuesday 21 July 2009
Monday 20 July 2009
Dreams
Every night since that awesome roadtrip around Turkey, my dreams have all been about roadtrips. Every single night. A bedside copy of Down Under (Bill Bryson) has helped me along as well.
She has no memory of her bedtime dreams. The lady of my dreams, I mean. Now that we have sent out the invitations, so many well-wishers have reminded me that I could well be the luckiest person alive or have threatened me with dire consequences if I ever thought of letting go.
She has no memory of her bedtime dreams. The lady of my dreams, I mean. Now that we have sent out the invitations, so many well-wishers have reminded me that I could well be the luckiest person alive or have threatened me with dire consequences if I ever thought of letting go.
Thursday 16 July 2009
Critics
Photography needs two kinds of critics.
One that goes, "Overexposed a little. White balance is way off. Try a faster shutter speed."
Another that goes, "Wowww! Awesome! Amazing!"
And slowly, my photos will improve, and my photography will thrive.
One that goes, "Overexposed a little. White balance is way off. Try a faster shutter speed."
Another that goes, "Wowww! Awesome! Amazing!"
And slowly, my photos will improve, and my photography will thrive.
Wednesday 15 July 2009
Monday 13 July 2009
Postmortem
It was a memorable vacation. Just awesome.
And, most of the time, this is what it looked like to the third member of the squad.
And, most of the time, this is what it looked like to the third member of the squad.
Thursday 9 July 2009
Happy
The most important people in my life have all gotten in touch and wished me the very best.
We went on a hot air balloon flight over Cappadocia first thing this morning. We have been driving around unbelievably beautiful Turkish country roads for the last five days. We move on to Istanbul tonight for three days of culture.
Sitting in the living room of a cave hotel to escape from the heat, listening to Norah Jones.
Perfect. Touchwood.
Here is one from the road.
We went on a hot air balloon flight over Cappadocia first thing this morning. We have been driving around unbelievably beautiful Turkish country roads for the last five days. We move on to Istanbul tonight for three days of culture.
Sitting in the living room of a cave hotel to escape from the heat, listening to Norah Jones.
Perfect. Touchwood.
Here is one from the road.
Thursday 2 July 2009
Stretch
I woke up to find out that once again, someone managed to outlast Lleyton Hewitt in a marathon five-setter (Andy Roddick, this time). Somewhere, the statistics surely say that he is the guy who has played the most number of five-setters in his life.
I have never particularly liked his brand of tennis. An entertainer, he surely is. Of the let-us-dig-in-and-play-for-a-while kind.
I have never particularly liked his brand of tennis. An entertainer, he surely is. Of the let-us-dig-in-and-play-for-a-while kind.
Deals
Last night, I got sucked into the shopping vortex created by the Great Singapore Sale - Recession combo.
Levi's jeans, two for the price of one.
M&S t-shirts, at Giordano-like prices.
Free ties if you bought enough underwear.
(Not sure how they came up with the last one)
Check it out. Vivocity. Or, any mall near you.
Levi's jeans, two for the price of one.
M&S t-shirts, at Giordano-like prices.
Free ties if you bought enough underwear.
(Not sure how they came up with the last one)
Check it out. Vivocity. Or, any mall near you.
Tuesday 30 June 2009
Confluence
East and West.
Europe and Asia.
Islam and Christendom.
Capitalism and Communism.
Old grace and new hope.
Byzantium. Constantinople. Istanbul.
Am I welcome?
Europe and Asia.
Islam and Christendom.
Capitalism and Communism.
Old grace and new hope.
Byzantium. Constantinople. Istanbul.
Am I welcome?
Tape
I need a Certificate of Legal Capacity to Marry from the Indian Embassy in Manila. So, I need to submit a few documents before attending an interview with my fiance and she has to submit a few documents.
These documents include, but are not limited to:
- An affidavit from me saying I am single, attested by a lawyer in Singapore, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For this, I need to submit an oath from my parents taken in a court of law in Chennai confirming I am single, attested by a notary in Chennai, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For these, I need to appear at the Indian Embassy in Singapore, just five times, queueing up for a total of 4 hours. I stopped counting the dollars and rupees.
- A letter from my employer stating that I am a Singapore resident, gainfully employed.
I also need a letter from a religious authority in Chennai that confirms I am a Hindu Brahmin. In secular India, nobody is willing to do this, without the appropriate connections and a suitable fee.
And, this is just the beginning.
Somebody has just dropped a roll of tape. Red.
These documents include, but are not limited to:
- An affidavit from me saying I am single, attested by a lawyer in Singapore, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For this, I need to submit an oath from my parents taken in a court of law in Chennai confirming I am single, attested by a notary in Chennai, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For these, I need to appear at the Indian Embassy in Singapore, just five times, queueing up for a total of 4 hours. I stopped counting the dollars and rupees.
- A letter from my employer stating that I am a Singapore resident, gainfully employed.
I also need a letter from a religious authority in Chennai that confirms I am a Hindu Brahmin. In secular India, nobody is willing to do this, without the appropriate connections and a suitable fee.
And, this is just the beginning.
Somebody has just dropped a roll of tape. Red.
Luck
Today, I signed up for the Borders lucky draw. They have put up a list of books online and ask you to vote for your favorite book. The top 100 choices will be announced. One lucky winner gets a full set of these 100 most popular titles.
That's a piece of luck, I just would not mind.
(Catcher in the Rye, J D Salinger, by the way)
That's a piece of luck, I just would not mind.
(Catcher in the Rye, J D Salinger, by the way)
Waste
These posters were up for a week, maybe. A real waste, it would seem, but for the few mouths that got fed putting them up and taking them down. In fact, I walked through this underpass at least three times, and just don't remember what the posters were about.
Monday 29 June 2009
Thursday 25 June 2009
Disappointment
The colours of disappointment:
She was supposed to be here. Oh, well. This is what disappointment feels like, I guess.
I had so much to say when I started. But, the sheer triviality of the rule that has ruined this weekend for us leaves me without a word. She must be feeling much worse.
The worst part about this is that when you feel bad, and the other person feels bad, and it is nobody's fault, a hug makes everything go away. But, this whole thing is about the hug that was not to be. We find ourselves 1500 miles apart. She did not have six months on her passport, when we asked for four days together.
Oh, well.
She was supposed to be here. Oh, well. This is what disappointment feels like, I guess.
I had so much to say when I started. But, the sheer triviality of the rule that has ruined this weekend for us leaves me without a word. She must be feeling much worse.
The worst part about this is that when you feel bad, and the other person feels bad, and it is nobody's fault, a hug makes everything go away. But, this whole thing is about the hug that was not to be. We find ourselves 1500 miles apart. She did not have six months on her passport, when we asked for four days together.
Oh, well.
Monday 22 June 2009
Confession
I woke up. I realised I was actually pleased to find out that the Pakistanis had become ICC World T20 champions. Cricinfo glorified it as a comeback from all the mishaps that Pakistan has been suffering as a nation. Initially, I put my reaction down to the equation that if the Pakistanis have won, the South Africans have not won and the Australians have not won. That is a strange concept. As strange as thanking the Pakistani people for being the ones caught in the crapshoot with the Taliban mullahs, such that the Indian people may be spared a little.
Then I went back a little bit. 1992. Then again, I was surprised by my satisfaction at Pakistan's eventual triumph. I was not carried away by Imran's charismatic captaincy. Perhaps, I felt Aloo did not deserve to be on the losing side after those two amazing innings against New Zealand. Perhaps, I was relieved that the English did not get away with dubiously conspiring against Brian McMillan, with the help of the rain-gods. Why did I not feel revulsion when the sworn enemy triumphed where we did not?
Steven Pinker says if you put a group of people in the same room for long enough, they'll eventually find themselves in two opposing groups. Or something to that effect. Is that what happened prior to 1947? Like those occasions when you arrive in your hotel room, your reservation says king-size bed, and you find in front of you, two single beds with the obstinate bedstand right in the lane. Was it a bit like that then? That is surely trivialising the catharsis of Partition, the wars that have been fought and the lives that have been lost.
Sachin Tendulkar and Waqar Younis were career debutantes in the same match. Imagine. Not having had to choose between Lightning and Thunderbolt. Blasphemy, some would say. Wishful thinking, I insist.
Then I went back a little bit. 1992. Then again, I was surprised by my satisfaction at Pakistan's eventual triumph. I was not carried away by Imran's charismatic captaincy. Perhaps, I felt Aloo did not deserve to be on the losing side after those two amazing innings against New Zealand. Perhaps, I was relieved that the English did not get away with dubiously conspiring against Brian McMillan, with the help of the rain-gods. Why did I not feel revulsion when the sworn enemy triumphed where we did not?
Steven Pinker says if you put a group of people in the same room for long enough, they'll eventually find themselves in two opposing groups. Or something to that effect. Is that what happened prior to 1947? Like those occasions when you arrive in your hotel room, your reservation says king-size bed, and you find in front of you, two single beds with the obstinate bedstand right in the lane. Was it a bit like that then? That is surely trivialising the catharsis of Partition, the wars that have been fought and the lives that have been lost.
Sachin Tendulkar and Waqar Younis were career debutantes in the same match. Imagine. Not having had to choose between Lightning and Thunderbolt. Blasphemy, some would say. Wishful thinking, I insist.
Sunday 21 June 2009
Accomplishment
Was on a train from Changi Airport. Somewhere around Kallang station, heard about Ultimatum by Matthew Glass. Stepped out at Bugis on an impulse. Picked up a copy at Kinokuniya.
Decent read. Gentle reminder of the magnitude of Aaron Sorkin's accomplishment with The West Wing.
Decent read. Gentle reminder of the magnitude of Aaron Sorkin's accomplishment with The West Wing.
Friday 19 June 2009
Choice
I read another blog today. Let us say:
I wake up in a clearing in the middle of an infinite thicket that extends to the horizon in every direction. I have no clue how I got here. Does it matter? I do not know which way to head. I do not know if there is an end to the green, a way out to this end, and if I will ever find this way out. I wonder what I will find outside. If it will even be worth it.
There is only one thing I can do. I need to pick a direction. I need to find the means to hack through the brush, clearing enough to let me take one step at a time. Once in a while, the hacking won't work. I shift a little and hack again. I make progress, if that means anything. Sometimes, that's the best I can hope for.
I have to hack. Without a care for where I am heading. For now. I have to stand up. I have to tell myself that if I reach behind my back, I will find a sickle, miraculously tucked away just for this. I will not find out until I raise my hand.
I have to do it now. Or, the curiosity will drive me nuts.
Anyway. Take a break. Viet Nam. Cheap flights. I will go. July 25-26 or August 22-23.
I wake up in a clearing in the middle of an infinite thicket that extends to the horizon in every direction. I have no clue how I got here. Does it matter? I do not know which way to head. I do not know if there is an end to the green, a way out to this end, and if I will ever find this way out. I wonder what I will find outside. If it will even be worth it.
There is only one thing I can do. I need to pick a direction. I need to find the means to hack through the brush, clearing enough to let me take one step at a time. Once in a while, the hacking won't work. I shift a little and hack again. I make progress, if that means anything. Sometimes, that's the best I can hope for.
I have to hack. Without a care for where I am heading. For now. I have to stand up. I have to tell myself that if I reach behind my back, I will find a sickle, miraculously tucked away just for this. I will not find out until I raise my hand.
I have to do it now. Or, the curiosity will drive me nuts.
Anyway. Take a break. Viet Nam. Cheap flights. I will go. July 25-26 or August 22-23.
Wanderlust
2008
Jan: New Zealand
Feb: Manila, Bangkok
Mar: Chennai
May: Kuala Lumpur, Shanghai
Jun: Bali
Sep: Manila, Kuala Lumpur
Nov: Kuala Lumpur, Chennai, New Delhi, Agra
Dec: Manila
2009
Jan: Manila
Apr: Chennai
May: Manila
Jun: Kuala Lumpur
Jul: Turkey
Planning: Tioman, Manila, Queensland
Sated?!
Jan: New Zealand
Feb: Manila, Bangkok
Mar: Chennai
May: Kuala Lumpur, Shanghai
Jun: Bali
Sep: Manila, Kuala Lumpur
Nov: Kuala Lumpur, Chennai, New Delhi, Agra
Dec: Manila
2009
Jan: Manila
Apr: Chennai
May: Manila
Jun: Kuala Lumpur
Jul: Turkey
Planning: Tioman, Manila, Queensland
Sated?!
Thursday 18 June 2009
Milestone
Reached a symbolic personal financial milestone today. It has taken almost six years. But, it has happened.
Sunday 14 June 2009
Evidence
Homemade hummus, mint chutney and garlic toast
Tastes as good as it looks. And, I love how the blog has moved beyond text.
Those who helped by chopping mint/coriander and by gifting me the cookbook - you know who you are - thanks.
Disclaimer: Pictures taken on old Canon IXUS 55, not new Canon EOS 500D
Tastes as good as it looks. And, I love how the blog has moved beyond text.
Those who helped by chopping mint/coriander and by gifting me the cookbook - you know who you are - thanks.
Disclaimer: Pictures taken on old Canon IXUS 55, not new Canon EOS 500D
Saturday 13 June 2009
Friday 12 June 2009
Signs of Life
A. Appleby. Brown and Red. I've seen the bloglights flicker back to life. Keep them lit.
Happybee. Welcome to this world.
I B. I follow keenly.
Others. Why not give it a try?
Happybee. Welcome to this world.
I B. I follow keenly.
Others. Why not give it a try?
Pain
So. Now, I have a new camera. I have always been trigger-happy. But, I never expected my pictures to be spectacular.
I have been grazing through online photo galleries for a few days. Some pictures have had a certain effect on me. I will try to explain.
I take pictures with my camera. I download them to my Mac. I look at them. I wonder why they are so empty, meaningless and uninteresting. I lose interest in my own pictures and move on to online pastures. I see a picture or a whole gallery of pictures that grabs my attention. Slaps me on the face. Tugs at something deep within me. Makes me despair. I resign to the thought that I will never create a picture that will have the same effect on me.
I've known that there is no artist in me. That I'll always be poorer for that. I don't know if I have felt so strongly about it before. I mean, I've walked through a full day of Rembrandt vs Caravaggio at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. I admired, but I barely flinched.
Maybe, the difference is that I now have the tool in my hands. Is the pain from knowing what masters can do with a tool, which is as good as lifeless in my own hands? The way I'll enjoy a well-written book, but will pull out my hair when I place a QWERTY and a blank screen in front of me. This time, it's real. And, worse. I can almost cry. The eyes tear from not seeing.
The technical details are straight enough. Aperture. Shutter speed. ISO speed. Exposure compensation. Dynamic range. Give me enough time and I'll have a gold medal to show for it. That's not the point.
A creativity void. A composition jinx. An abundance of mediocrity.
As always, there is hope. "Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.", said Ansel Adams. I'll settle for one. Watch this space.
I have been grazing through online photo galleries for a few days. Some pictures have had a certain effect on me. I will try to explain.
I take pictures with my camera. I download them to my Mac. I look at them. I wonder why they are so empty, meaningless and uninteresting. I lose interest in my own pictures and move on to online pastures. I see a picture or a whole gallery of pictures that grabs my attention. Slaps me on the face. Tugs at something deep within me. Makes me despair. I resign to the thought that I will never create a picture that will have the same effect on me.
I've known that there is no artist in me. That I'll always be poorer for that. I don't know if I have felt so strongly about it before. I mean, I've walked through a full day of Rembrandt vs Caravaggio at the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. I admired, but I barely flinched.
Maybe, the difference is that I now have the tool in my hands. Is the pain from knowing what masters can do with a tool, which is as good as lifeless in my own hands? The way I'll enjoy a well-written book, but will pull out my hair when I place a QWERTY and a blank screen in front of me. This time, it's real. And, worse. I can almost cry. The eyes tear from not seeing.
The technical details are straight enough. Aperture. Shutter speed. ISO speed. Exposure compensation. Dynamic range. Give me enough time and I'll have a gold medal to show for it. That's not the point.
A creativity void. A composition jinx. An abundance of mediocrity.
As always, there is hope. "Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.", said Ansel Adams. I'll settle for one. Watch this space.
Tuesday 9 June 2009
Distance
I was reading a friend's blog. I don't know if she knows that I follow her blog.
I could feel her pain in being so far away from her loved one. In fact, I know the loved one. More than I know her.
I know that pain. I have been through it myself. And, I want to tell her that in the end, it will be alright.
Maybe I will tell her. When I meet her and her loved one when my loved one is here too.
Dammit. I should use names.
But, that won't be fun, ha?
I could feel her pain in being so far away from her loved one. In fact, I know the loved one. More than I know her.
I know that pain. I have been through it myself. And, I want to tell her that in the end, it will be alright.
Maybe I will tell her. When I meet her and her loved one when my loved one is here too.
Dammit. I should use names.
But, that won't be fun, ha?
Imagine
I like this guy's simple idea:
Guy
Idea
Informed Opinion
I see some sense in concentrating CO2 emissions. Managing CO2 afterwards might be easier - applying economic penalties, testing new technology for power generation, expanding renewable share of the power generation base, capturing CO2,... The electricity grid offers just that option, naturally with some limitations.
In a way, hydrogen was supposed to do just the same thing for us.
Imagine... You are on a long and lonely highway. Maybe in the Cappadocian valley. Your indicator shows you are low on fuel. You seek out the next service station (preferably the one with the yellow pecten). A robot opens up your car's bonnet, lifts out the compact battery pack, drops a replacement pack in its place and off you go.
He has imagined. He is 41.
After TED 2007:
"Indeed I was so anonymous, that a young Google employee told me at one of the dinner events after a conversation on the world of software that “You are pretty good. Would probably make a good manager at Google, maybe even a VP” and offered to put in a good word for me. Given that I was the president of products at SAP at that time, I guess she meant it as a compliment, somehow."
Guy
Idea
Informed Opinion
I see some sense in concentrating CO2 emissions. Managing CO2 afterwards might be easier - applying economic penalties, testing new technology for power generation, expanding renewable share of the power generation base, capturing CO2,... The electricity grid offers just that option, naturally with some limitations.
In a way, hydrogen was supposed to do just the same thing for us.
Imagine... You are on a long and lonely highway. Maybe in the Cappadocian valley. Your indicator shows you are low on fuel. You seek out the next service station (preferably the one with the yellow pecten). A robot opens up your car's bonnet, lifts out the compact battery pack, drops a replacement pack in its place and off you go.
He has imagined. He is 41.
After TED 2007:
"Indeed I was so anonymous, that a young Google employee told me at one of the dinner events after a conversation on the world of software that “You are pretty good. Would probably make a good manager at Google, maybe even a VP” and offered to put in a good word for me. Given that I was the president of products at SAP at that time, I guess she meant it as a compliment, somehow."
Doors
I take the train everyday. During peak hours, there is a mad rush on the platform. Kia-su passengers try to force their way in, even as alighting passengers rush to get out.
At the above-ground stations, passengers step across the yellow lines and muscle their way as close to the edge of the platform as possible, as soon as they sight the arriving train. This becomes particularly dangerous for passengers at the head of the boarding queue - who might not be as afraid of losing, as of losing their lives under the wheels of the train - when they get pushed forward to the edge. A handful of passengers have regrettably lost their lives this way.
The powers-that-be quickly decided that it was time to recruit some hapless old screaming uncles who would yell at every passenger who ever dared step across the yellow line, while lining up their own frail uniformed bodies between the mass of afraid-to-lose passengers and the greedy open abyss behind. This morning, I even saw one of those uniformed uncles (who once complimented me on my Bose QC3 while we both waited for the train) preside over and brief a bevy of yellers-to-be, now smartly bedecked in fluorescent jackets.
I've always wondered (on those long train rides, assuming I get INTO the train and not UNDER) when the powers-that-be would take the natural next step...
Not to worry. Coming soon to an above-ground station near you... Platform screen doors.
From today's TODAY:
"The Land Transport Authority has plans to install platform screen doors at all 36 above-ground stations by 2012. Work to install the 1.5m-tall doors at Pasir Ris, Jurong East and Yishun stations will be completed by this year."
By then, the recession might be long gone, and the yelling uncle, who'll surely lose his job, will just become a statistic on the economy's way back up.
Meanwhile, stay safe and thank uncle.
At the above-ground stations, passengers step across the yellow lines and muscle their way as close to the edge of the platform as possible, as soon as they sight the arriving train. This becomes particularly dangerous for passengers at the head of the boarding queue - who might not be as afraid of losing, as of losing their lives under the wheels of the train - when they get pushed forward to the edge. A handful of passengers have regrettably lost their lives this way.
The powers-that-be quickly decided that it was time to recruit some hapless old screaming uncles who would yell at every passenger who ever dared step across the yellow line, while lining up their own frail uniformed bodies between the mass of afraid-to-lose passengers and the greedy open abyss behind. This morning, I even saw one of those uniformed uncles (who once complimented me on my Bose QC3 while we both waited for the train) preside over and brief a bevy of yellers-to-be, now smartly bedecked in fluorescent jackets.
I've always wondered (on those long train rides, assuming I get INTO the train and not UNDER) when the powers-that-be would take the natural next step...
Not to worry. Coming soon to an above-ground station near you... Platform screen doors.
From today's TODAY:
"The Land Transport Authority has plans to install platform screen doors at all 36 above-ground stations by 2012. Work to install the 1.5m-tall doors at Pasir Ris, Jurong East and Yishun stations will be completed by this year."
By then, the recession might be long gone, and the yelling uncle, who'll surely lose his job, will just become a statistic on the economy's way back up.
Meanwhile, stay safe and thank uncle.
Sunday 7 June 2009
Survival Aloo
Guys, try this. It is too simple. Your moms probably never told you how easy it was.
Boil 4-5 medium potatoes for about 25 mins. Drain and peel as soon as they are cool enough to hold. Mash in a bowl with a ladle or fingers.
Chop 2 medium onions. Add a few mustard seeds to two tablespoons of oil and heat until the seeds burst. Stir fry the onions. Dice one medium tomato and add to the onions with small amount of water. Add turmeric, cumin seed powder, coriander seed powder, garam masala and asafoetida to taste. Stir until gravy has a fine consistency.
Add mashed potato and some water to make it easy to stir. Keep stirring until all ingredients are well-mixed. Add a finely chopped red chilli and one teaspoon of salt. Stir for five minutes.
Cook until all the water is gone. Serve with chapatis.
Boil 4-5 medium potatoes for about 25 mins. Drain and peel as soon as they are cool enough to hold. Mash in a bowl with a ladle or fingers.
Chop 2 medium onions. Add a few mustard seeds to two tablespoons of oil and heat until the seeds burst. Stir fry the onions. Dice one medium tomato and add to the onions with small amount of water. Add turmeric, cumin seed powder, coriander seed powder, garam masala and asafoetida to taste. Stir until gravy has a fine consistency.
Add mashed potato and some water to make it easy to stir. Keep stirring until all ingredients are well-mixed. Add a finely chopped red chilli and one teaspoon of salt. Stir for five minutes.
Cook until all the water is gone. Serve with chapatis.
Saturday 6 June 2009
Friday 5 June 2009
Google Ads
I just finished reading Barack Obama's speech to the Muslim world in Cairo, on Telegraph.co.uk.
The first Google Ad at the bottom of the speech:
"Meet Muslim Ladies
Beautiful Muslim Women Seeking Men for Love & Marriage. Join Free Now!"
Nice.
The first Google Ad at the bottom of the speech:
"Meet Muslim Ladies
Beautiful Muslim Women Seeking Men for Love & Marriage. Join Free Now!"
Nice.
Monday 25 May 2009
Ringtones
I don't understand the deal with fancy ringtones.
Almost everyday, I catch someone in the office running to her desk to hush her handphone, as it tries to grab her attention, by spouting out a fancy embarassing ringtone (which she has selected herself).
Fact A: Other people will usually hear your handphone ringing. Fact B: It is too embarassing to let other people hear the ringtone.
How is this supposed to work? And, we've already spent millions of dollars downloading ringtones.
Almost everyday, I catch someone in the office running to her desk to hush her handphone, as it tries to grab her attention, by spouting out a fancy embarassing ringtone (which she has selected herself).
Fact A: Other people will usually hear your handphone ringing. Fact B: It is too embarassing to let other people hear the ringtone.
How is this supposed to work? And, we've already spent millions of dollars downloading ringtones.
Sunday 24 May 2009
Vivien (or Vivienne or Vivian)
"Hello Ashwin, this is Vivien..."
I had to break it to her today. She has been calling me incessantly, for about three months now. So often that a careless observer looking at my telephone log would have surmised the presence of more than one Filipina in my life.
I let the calls keep coming. As a gentle reminder. That I still had to check something out.
"Hello Ashwin, this is Vivien from Fitness First..."
I have found the public gym at Clementi Sports Centre. $2.50 per entry. On the way home from work. Suits me just fine. I hope I persist. For Vivien's sake.
I had to break it to her today. She has been calling me incessantly, for about three months now. So often that a careless observer looking at my telephone log would have surmised the presence of more than one Filipina in my life.
I let the calls keep coming. As a gentle reminder. That I still had to check something out.
"Hello Ashwin, this is Vivien from Fitness First..."
I have found the public gym at Clementi Sports Centre. $2.50 per entry. On the way home from work. Suits me just fine. I hope I persist. For Vivien's sake.
H.E.A.T.
The heat here is oppressive. I am not referring to Help Educate And Teach. Or, the good 1995 movie with Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Val Kilmer and the irresistible Ashely Judd.
It is 29 C and the humidity is a ridiculous 89%. I am feeling every bit of it. An hour at the stove, cooking french beans and green peas in a coconut curry, surely did not help.
Hiding in my room now. Air conditioning. Reclining chair with footrest. Some respite.
It is 29 C and the humidity is a ridiculous 89%. I am feeling every bit of it. An hour at the stove, cooking french beans and green peas in a coconut curry, surely did not help.
Hiding in my room now. Air conditioning. Reclining chair with footrest. Some respite.
Monday 18 May 2009
Types of IPL Player
Oldie Goldies: Whoever said that Hayden, Gilchrist, Warne and Murali have walked into the sunset... Even if they have, they are enjoying the nightlife. The magic continues.
Mercenaries: Predominantly white men. Especially good at calmly pouching skied catches at the boundary line. Most of them, you have not heard of before. Nannes, Harris, Pomersbach - they come in a variety of names.
Young Guns: Our hopes for the future - especially next month, when we wrestle for the ICC World Twenty 20. Rohit, Raina, et al. For a change, some of them can actually field.
Young Buns: The Oldies eat them for breakfast. An approaching cricket ball scares them shitless. They deal only in fumbles and stumbles, play pea-brained shots and bowl rank bad balls. All out of fear of losing a place in the team, which they never have gained.
Mercenaries: Predominantly white men. Especially good at calmly pouching skied catches at the boundary line. Most of them, you have not heard of before. Nannes, Harris, Pomersbach - they come in a variety of names.
Young Guns: Our hopes for the future - especially next month, when we wrestle for the ICC World Twenty 20. Rohit, Raina, et al. For a change, some of them can actually field.
Young Buns: The Oldies eat them for breakfast. An approaching cricket ball scares them shitless. They deal only in fumbles and stumbles, play pea-brained shots and bowl rank bad balls. All out of fear of losing a place in the team, which they never have gained.
Thursday 16 April 2009
Sab kuch provided for
... is a phrase we use in the house to describe infrastructure on the Little Red Dot. Like in Sim City. Schools, stadia, police stations, fire stations, bus terminals, train stations, banks, libraries - all in that careful layout, such that the circles of influence overlap nicely. As I said, like in Sim City. And, welfare. Websites that tell you which vaccinations to take, and that track the vaccinations as you go about taking them. Even the germs in your life have to queue up.
Sab kuch provided for. Except those things that we all know about.
Even West Mall Bukit Batok. Giordano for the $2 to $12 man. Dano for the $2 man. Crocodile for the $120 man. Food court. Post office. Library. Salon. Starhub. Singtel. Subway. Pastamania. Bengawan Solo. New books store. Used books store. New CD store. Used CD store. You have a need. We meet the need. Five full storeys of need-meeting. It's five minutes away. It's taken me two years to find out.
The latest - Makan Mumbai Indian Food. Masala Dosai $2.50. Mango Lassi $2.00.
People. Take the train. Go and explore the heartlands. Vada Pav $3.00.
Sab kuch provided for. Except those things that we all know about.
Even West Mall Bukit Batok. Giordano for the $2 to $12 man. Dano for the $2 man. Crocodile for the $120 man. Food court. Post office. Library. Salon. Starhub. Singtel. Subway. Pastamania. Bengawan Solo. New books store. Used books store. New CD store. Used CD store. You have a need. We meet the need. Five full storeys of need-meeting. It's five minutes away. It's taken me two years to find out.
The latest - Makan Mumbai Indian Food. Masala Dosai $2.50. Mango Lassi $2.00.
People. Take the train. Go and explore the heartlands. Vada Pav $3.00.
Biblio
I am not as well-read as many of my intellectual friends. I do not read as fast my fiance, my closest friend or his fiance, who are all book-gobblers. I do not have on my fingertips, a list of the greatest books of all time. Yet, I love books. I love looking at them, smelling them, or just being around them. Or them being around me. Like in Kinokuniya. Or Borders. My two favorite hanging-out places in Singapore. Or, Fully Booked in Rockwell or Serendra. Manila. I know I share this with my mom. She claims I got most of my grey matter from my dad. But, filling it up with dollops of letters, syllables, words, phrases, sentences and paragraphs from books is a habit I am sure I got from my mom. We both have this in-built homing device that can seek out a good bookstore in any shiny mall or dingy back alley. A good book and a better read are always the best tokens I could take home for her.
I have been reading a bit this year. I have consciously made time. Of course, every day low prices on Amazon UK is a blessing.
I could borrow from the excellent library network in Singapore (I discovered the Bukit Batok Community Library tentacle of the NLB octopus today). Or, rummage in used-book shops. But, I have started buying books. My fiance has decreed that the bookshelves at home will be stacked with classy hardcovers. A home library, of sorts.
Here is a good way to start:
Randomhouse 1
Or, here:
Randomhouse 2
I have started. With De Tocqueville's Democracy in America.
I have been reading a bit this year. I have consciously made time. Of course, every day low prices on Amazon UK is a blessing.
I could borrow from the excellent library network in Singapore (I discovered the Bukit Batok Community Library tentacle of the NLB octopus today). Or, rummage in used-book shops. But, I have started buying books. My fiance has decreed that the bookshelves at home will be stacked with classy hardcovers. A home library, of sorts.
Here is a good way to start:
Randomhouse 1
Or, here:
Randomhouse 2
I have started. With De Tocqueville's Democracy in America.
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Office-types
Why I love Peter Drucker:
'Increasing effectiveness may well be the only area where we can hope significantly to raise the level of the knowledge worker's performance, achievement, and satisfaction.
We certainly could use people of much greater abilities in many places. We could use people of broader knowledge. I submit, however, that in these two areas, not too much can be expected from further efforts. We may be getting to the point where we are already attempting to do the inherently impossible or at least the inherently unprofitable. But we are not going to breed a new race of supermen. We will have to run our organisations with men and women as they are.
The books on manager development, for instance, envisage truly a "man for all seasons" in their picture of "the manager of tomorrow." A senior executive, we are told, should have extraordinary abilities as an analyst and a decision-maker. He or she should be good at working with people and at understanding organisation and power relations, be good at mathematics, and have artistic insights and creative imagination. What seems to be wanted is universal genius, and universal genius has always been in scarce supply. The experience of the human race indicates strongly that the only person in abundant supply is the universal incompetent....
...When "operations research" first came in, several of the brilliant young practitioners published their prescription for the operations researcher of tomorrow. They always came out asking for a polymath knowing everything and capable of doing superior and original work in every area of human knowledge. According to one of these studies, operations researchers need to have advanced knowledge in sixty-two or so major scientific and humanistic disciplines. If such a person could be found, he would, I am afraid, be totally wasted on studies of inventory levels or on the programming of production schedules.'
How do we get past this?
Read "Effectiveness Must be Learned", The Essential Drucker.
'Increasing effectiveness may well be the only area where we can hope significantly to raise the level of the knowledge worker's performance, achievement, and satisfaction.
We certainly could use people of much greater abilities in many places. We could use people of broader knowledge. I submit, however, that in these two areas, not too much can be expected from further efforts. We may be getting to the point where we are already attempting to do the inherently impossible or at least the inherently unprofitable. But we are not going to breed a new race of supermen. We will have to run our organisations with men and women as they are.
The books on manager development, for instance, envisage truly a "man for all seasons" in their picture of "the manager of tomorrow." A senior executive, we are told, should have extraordinary abilities as an analyst and a decision-maker. He or she should be good at working with people and at understanding organisation and power relations, be good at mathematics, and have artistic insights and creative imagination. What seems to be wanted is universal genius, and universal genius has always been in scarce supply. The experience of the human race indicates strongly that the only person in abundant supply is the universal incompetent....
...When "operations research" first came in, several of the brilliant young practitioners published their prescription for the operations researcher of tomorrow. They always came out asking for a polymath knowing everything and capable of doing superior and original work in every area of human knowledge. According to one of these studies, operations researchers need to have advanced knowledge in sixty-two or so major scientific and humanistic disciplines. If such a person could be found, he would, I am afraid, be totally wasted on studies of inventory levels or on the programming of production schedules.'
How do we get past this?
Read "Effectiveness Must be Learned", The Essential Drucker.
Friday 27 March 2009
The Song Remains the Same
There is some terrible pain in my left ear. Infected, says the doc. As long as it clears before it's time to dive. Have you ever wondered why they are always labelled eye/ear drops? How is it that these two vital sensory organs share afflictions and cures? I remember the time when a certain medicinal liquid that went into my eye left a bitter aftertaste in the back of my throat. There must be a link somewhere. Maybe I should ask my doctor-to-be sister-in-law-to-be. She is coming to Singapore. A month-long attachment to SGH.
Holden Caulfield. Most of us know him. I love travelling by bus. Or, by train, for that matter. You get a chance to just watch everyone else, or maybe eavesdrop a little bit, or wonder what brings a sudden smile to the face of the twelve-year old in front of you. This morning, I knew what. She was speeding through her own copy of Catcher in the Rye (20% Borders discount). Brought me back 7 years...
It was a long weekend, and I was on an overnight train from Sydney to Melbourne. And, then on to Geelong. Somewhere during the night, I started reading about Holden Caulfield. By the time the train rolled into Geelong station at seven on a very cold winter morning, I still had a dozen or so pages left. I tried reading and walking at the same time. Didn't work. Sat down on the cold stone pavement on High Street, and finished the book just a moment before my ass froze over.
That is a five-on-five book.
Holden Caulfield. Most of us know him. I love travelling by bus. Or, by train, for that matter. You get a chance to just watch everyone else, or maybe eavesdrop a little bit, or wonder what brings a sudden smile to the face of the twelve-year old in front of you. This morning, I knew what. She was speeding through her own copy of Catcher in the Rye (20% Borders discount). Brought me back 7 years...
It was a long weekend, and I was on an overnight train from Sydney to Melbourne. And, then on to Geelong. Somewhere during the night, I started reading about Holden Caulfield. By the time the train rolled into Geelong station at seven on a very cold winter morning, I still had a dozen or so pages left. I tried reading and walking at the same time. Didn't work. Sat down on the cold stone pavement on High Street, and finished the book just a moment before my ass froze over.
That is a five-on-five book.
Friday 13 March 2009
Arigatou Gozaimasu
It is S-san's last working day in the Singapore office. He will be returning to Tokyo in his new role as a Showa big shot. Very rarely does one have an opportunity to write a tribute to a colleague, so here goes.
The image of Japan that I had gathered from the media (including Haruki Murakami novels and Lost in Translation, the movie) was one of degenerate sex perverts, sake drunkards, maniacal workaholics and economic doomsayers. I won't venture to speculate on S-san's sexual exploits, but here is the person I got to know - a standard middle-aged gentleman who loved his cigarettes and Mother's Recipe Indian pickle.
Long walks to High Street Plaza for the weekly Indian meal at Jesal-sardar (so we called the joint). Souvenirs reliably brought from vacations on every tropical island paradise in the vicinity. A yearning to catch the Northern Lights in the Arctic (not yet) and to soar above Mount Everest (done). An almost-clerical diligence with numbers and rigorous analysis, without a hint of his serf-commanding bigwig status on his home turf. Yeses and nos which meant precisely that - yes and no. A pocket English-Japanese-English electronic dictionary that helped zoom past every barrier of tongue and thought. A child-like curiosity at the delights of Pat-Phong. An impeccable devotion to his son's soccer matches and swimming lessons. An understanding smile every time I pointed out another collapse in the Dow or the Nikkei. Stories about late night drinking bouts with Japanese colleagues, where the quality of the Powerpoint production was directly related to the quantity of booze in the gut. And, the awesome Red Bean Kit Kat bar.
Traveller. Aficionado. Gourmand. Father.
I remember his simple pledge to go from 10 to 4 cigarettes a day in line with a company wellness programme. One wonders if that applies in Tokyo.
I hope he liked the Images of Singapore from the Japanese Perspective 1868-1941 - A collection of photographs, postcards and documents.
The image of Japan that I had gathered from the media (including Haruki Murakami novels and Lost in Translation, the movie) was one of degenerate sex perverts, sake drunkards, maniacal workaholics and economic doomsayers. I won't venture to speculate on S-san's sexual exploits, but here is the person I got to know - a standard middle-aged gentleman who loved his cigarettes and Mother's Recipe Indian pickle.
Long walks to High Street Plaza for the weekly Indian meal at Jesal-sardar (so we called the joint). Souvenirs reliably brought from vacations on every tropical island paradise in the vicinity. A yearning to catch the Northern Lights in the Arctic (not yet) and to soar above Mount Everest (done). An almost-clerical diligence with numbers and rigorous analysis, without a hint of his serf-commanding bigwig status on his home turf. Yeses and nos which meant precisely that - yes and no. A pocket English-Japanese-English electronic dictionary that helped zoom past every barrier of tongue and thought. A child-like curiosity at the delights of Pat-Phong. An impeccable devotion to his son's soccer matches and swimming lessons. An understanding smile every time I pointed out another collapse in the Dow or the Nikkei. Stories about late night drinking bouts with Japanese colleagues, where the quality of the Powerpoint production was directly related to the quantity of booze in the gut. And, the awesome Red Bean Kit Kat bar.
Traveller. Aficionado. Gourmand. Father.
I remember his simple pledge to go from 10 to 4 cigarettes a day in line with a company wellness programme. One wonders if that applies in Tokyo.
I hope he liked the Images of Singapore from the Japanese Perspective 1868-1941 - A collection of photographs, postcards and documents.
Tuesday 10 March 2009
2050
I am reading this interesting book titled The World Without Us by Alan Weisman. The author performs an interesting thought experiment - if mankind were to suddenly vanish from the face of the planet (say, if we were sucked away by an alien's selective vacuum cleaner), what would our legacy be, and how long would it last? I won't go into the details, but it is fairly obvious that our wooden homes would rot right away, but the radioactive waste would be there to stay. And, so on... Some manifestations of our existence are rather stunning - Pacific whirlpools the size of Africa where all the world's plastic trash eventually ends up and extremely high concentrations of plastic nurdle fines in the world's oceans. Plastic takes so long to bio-degrade - even if that was possible - it first breaks up into really fine particles that find their way right through the food chain. In some way or the other, you and I not only wrap our food in plastic; we even EAT plastic.
Add to that depressing list:
Coal Ash Spill
That is a mess we'll probably never be able to clean up. This, in one of the richest nations of the world with a reasonable record of environmental consciousness. What about the dozens of coal-powered plants in India and China, which probably don't even have coal-ash tailing ponds?
Recently, I have read a number of books and articles where 2050 repeatedly turns up as some kind of notional deadline for us to clean up our act - by when the planet will be toast, the rivers will run dry and the seas will be garbage soup. That date will be at the outer end of my productive lifetime.
Clearly, there is a choice. We could well be the last generation that lives in plenty off the planet's bounty and has only a depressing legacy to leave behind. Or, we could be the generation that acts decisively to leave a different kind of everlasting legacy - through the personal choices we make everyday, through the businesses we lead, through the ideas we preach, through the solutions we develop and through the policies we enact...
For now, set that air-conditioning unit on timer when you go to bed, take the train to work and turn off the tap when you shave. And, carry your own shopping bag.
Add to that depressing list:
Coal Ash Spill
That is a mess we'll probably never be able to clean up. This, in one of the richest nations of the world with a reasonable record of environmental consciousness. What about the dozens of coal-powered plants in India and China, which probably don't even have coal-ash tailing ponds?
Recently, I have read a number of books and articles where 2050 repeatedly turns up as some kind of notional deadline for us to clean up our act - by when the planet will be toast, the rivers will run dry and the seas will be garbage soup. That date will be at the outer end of my productive lifetime.
Clearly, there is a choice. We could well be the last generation that lives in plenty off the planet's bounty and has only a depressing legacy to leave behind. Or, we could be the generation that acts decisively to leave a different kind of everlasting legacy - through the personal choices we make everyday, through the businesses we lead, through the ideas we preach, through the solutions we develop and through the policies we enact...
For now, set that air-conditioning unit on timer when you go to bed, take the train to work and turn off the tap when you shave. And, carry your own shopping bag.
Friday 6 March 2009
Bells and Whistles
Most of us know about the tragedy last week at Amsterdam Schiphol airport involving Turkish Airlines Flight 1951.
Nine people died, and 80 were hurt, and nothing is going to change that. Aircraft have to operate with a zero margin of error, every single time, and sometimes, terrible things happen. That is no consolation or excuse, of course.
This is what Boeing has to say, and I quote CNN:
...In a memo to pilots, Boeing says there was a malfunction in one of the plane's two altimeters, which measure the altitude above the terrain where the plane is going to land. The left altimeter was giving "erroneous" information, indicating that the plane was below 7 or 8 feet from ground level when it was actually about 2,000 feet in the air, the memo said. That caused the automatic throttles to slow the plane down. The Boeing memo notes that "the autothrottle, which uses the left radio altimeter data, transitioned to landing flare mode and retarded the throttles to the idle stop. The throttles remained at the idle stop for approximately 100 seconds during which time the airspeed decreased to approximately 40 knots below the selected approach speed."...
I will not pretend to understand aeronautical engineering or the complicated lights, knobs and buttons that we see in popular cockpit footage.
In my line of work, in oil refining, we like to say that our safety systems are comparable to those in the nuclear and airline industries. In emergency or critical process control systems, it is not unusual to have two or three instruments measuring the same thing. This is done to build in a margin of safety through redundancy. The control loops are usually designed with voting using relative and time-series comparisons. For example, if two out of three instruments suggest the need to do something drastic, an emergency system will be activated. Or, if a certain measurement has an odd deviation, a comparison of historic measurements is triggered to try to determine which instrument is faulty, and take away its voting rights.
There were two altimeters. One was taking wrong decisions on its own. We ask the pilot to be more vigilant. Any thoughts from any experts?
Nine people died, and 80 were hurt, and nothing is going to change that. Aircraft have to operate with a zero margin of error, every single time, and sometimes, terrible things happen. That is no consolation or excuse, of course.
This is what Boeing has to say, and I quote CNN:
...In a memo to pilots, Boeing says there was a malfunction in one of the plane's two altimeters, which measure the altitude above the terrain where the plane is going to land. The left altimeter was giving "erroneous" information, indicating that the plane was below 7 or 8 feet from ground level when it was actually about 2,000 feet in the air, the memo said. That caused the automatic throttles to slow the plane down. The Boeing memo notes that "the autothrottle, which uses the left radio altimeter data, transitioned to landing flare mode and retarded the throttles to the idle stop. The throttles remained at the idle stop for approximately 100 seconds during which time the airspeed decreased to approximately 40 knots below the selected approach speed."...
I will not pretend to understand aeronautical engineering or the complicated lights, knobs and buttons that we see in popular cockpit footage.
In my line of work, in oil refining, we like to say that our safety systems are comparable to those in the nuclear and airline industries. In emergency or critical process control systems, it is not unusual to have two or three instruments measuring the same thing. This is done to build in a margin of safety through redundancy. The control loops are usually designed with voting using relative and time-series comparisons. For example, if two out of three instruments suggest the need to do something drastic, an emergency system will be activated. Or, if a certain measurement has an odd deviation, a comparison of historic measurements is triggered to try to determine which instrument is faulty, and take away its voting rights.
There were two altimeters. One was taking wrong decisions on its own. We ask the pilot to be more vigilant. Any thoughts from any experts?
Thursday 5 March 2009
Bananas
Just walked down to the store (took the lift and got introduced to Arindam Sengupta on the way down, actually) and bought the mandatory two bananas. I always buy two of them. One for right now. And, another in case there is a wild craving later. Also, bananas continue to ripen after plucking, as we know. So, not too many. And, always bananas. Handcarry, no plastic bags. Sometimes with Realfresh Orange Mango Nectar $1.80.
I love apples too. The only problem with them comes from my misaligned teeth. Apples and misaligned teeth don't get along very well. So, I need a knife. And, I have one stashed in my lower draw.
I am sure I have told some of you about my strict adherence to conventional fruits. My rather unconventional list includes mangoes, bananas, apples, oranges, grapes, watermelon, pineapples, jackfruit and papaya. That is all. Peaches, only under exceptional circumstances - for example, when she serves them up with some cream. What I am trying to say is - no longan, rambutan, durian, starfruit or dragonfruit for me. No, thank you. (Monthong durian chips is the only acceptable form of durian, because in this form, it is more jackfruit than durian.)
It's time to check how well the ban on plastic bags at home has been working. If we still have enough bags to wrap the storeroom twice over, that's not progress. Not after all the trash we have hauled out in those bags lately. I've heard from the company bulletin that cracker margins are collapsing. For those of you untainted, crackers make plastic makes shopping bags.
What's a good way to make progress? Setting targets, planning and acting - the first two being my great strengths, and the last, my single greatest weakness. Not letting the urgent take over the important, a la Leo McGarry. I was telling someone (while watching West Wing, AGAIN) - I would not be able to work for Leo McGarry. I just can't imagine being Josh, or Toby, or CJ, and having to put up with Leo. I could BE Leo McGarry, though. That's the beauty of dreams.
All this, just on the way to the bananas and back.
I love apples too. The only problem with them comes from my misaligned teeth. Apples and misaligned teeth don't get along very well. So, I need a knife. And, I have one stashed in my lower draw.
I am sure I have told some of you about my strict adherence to conventional fruits. My rather unconventional list includes mangoes, bananas, apples, oranges, grapes, watermelon, pineapples, jackfruit and papaya. That is all. Peaches, only under exceptional circumstances - for example, when she serves them up with some cream. What I am trying to say is - no longan, rambutan, durian, starfruit or dragonfruit for me. No, thank you. (Monthong durian chips is the only acceptable form of durian, because in this form, it is more jackfruit than durian.)
It's time to check how well the ban on plastic bags at home has been working. If we still have enough bags to wrap the storeroom twice over, that's not progress. Not after all the trash we have hauled out in those bags lately. I've heard from the company bulletin that cracker margins are collapsing. For those of you untainted, crackers make plastic makes shopping bags.
What's a good way to make progress? Setting targets, planning and acting - the first two being my great strengths, and the last, my single greatest weakness. Not letting the urgent take over the important, a la Leo McGarry. I was telling someone (while watching West Wing, AGAIN) - I would not be able to work for Leo McGarry. I just can't imagine being Josh, or Toby, or CJ, and having to put up with Leo. I could BE Leo McGarry, though. That's the beauty of dreams.
All this, just on the way to the bananas and back.
Namesake
This is what happens when your company moves its IT offshore activities to Chennai.
Random instant message from Lukman-Zamani Idris from the IT back office in Kuala Lumpur:
I need some assistance with regard to change request approval under approval group of GLBAPSSCIPORCHG
At the least, I know that one of my many namesakes in Chennai is doing rather well. He gets to approve requests for change.
Random instant message from Lukman-Zamani Idris from the IT back office in Kuala Lumpur:
I need some assistance with regard to change request approval under approval group of GLBAPSSCIPORCHG
At the least, I know that one of my many namesakes in Chennai is doing rather well. He gets to approve requests for change.
Why Wonder Wall?
It's a song by Oasis.
One of my all-time favourite songs. No idea why.
She even used it as the background song for the farewell video she made for me when I left Tabangao. Oh, I should watch that again one of these days. I almost end up crying every time I see the last segment, where she has her special thoughts for me.
Perhaps, I should play the video at our wedding. Theme: He just refused to go away.
One of my all-time favourite songs. No idea why.
She even used it as the background song for the farewell video she made for me when I left Tabangao. Oh, I should watch that again one of these days. I almost end up crying every time I see the last segment, where she has her special thoughts for me.
Perhaps, I should play the video at our wedding. Theme: He just refused to go away.
Why Holy Diver?
It's a song by Dio.
Almost ten years ago, in the safety of my dorm room (or, so I thought), I was noticed providing pelvic thrusts (not of the sexual kind, unfortunately) to the accompaniment of the tune.
And, I have let it stick.
I dive, by the way. Or, used to, at least. PADI Basic Open Water. 15 dives. It's been four years. Planning my refresher course in the third week of March. Rich expatriate brother - 5 hours from the Great Barrier Reef - beckons.
Almost ten years ago, in the safety of my dorm room (or, so I thought), I was noticed providing pelvic thrusts (not of the sexual kind, unfortunately) to the accompaniment of the tune.
And, I have let it stick.
I dive, by the way. Or, used to, at least. PADI Basic Open Water. 15 dives. It's been four years. Planning my refresher course in the third week of March. Rich expatriate brother - 5 hours from the Great Barrier Reef - beckons.
Without regard.
That's it. I have had enough. Of people who insist on using the word irregardless.
Now, let us check what the Merriam Webster online dictionary says:
"Irregardless originated in dialectal American speech in the early 20th century. Its fairly widespread use in speech called it to the attention of usage commentators as early as 1927. The most frequently repeated remark about it is that “there is no such word.” There is such a word, however. It is still used primarily in speech, although it can be found from time to time in edited prose. Its reputation has not risen over the years, and it is still a long way from general acceptance. Use regardless instead."
Damn it. There is such a word. There is such a word?
I know what linguists such as Steven Pinker and many average inhabitants of the blogosphere have to say about evolved words and phrases. The main objective of language is to convey meaning, and words such as irregardless manage to do that, even in their glorious incorrectness. Words such as debone and unravel may be accused of the same deficiency. Or, oversufficiency of affixes, to be exact.
Nope. No irregardless for me. Regardless of what you think.
Now, let us check what the Merriam Webster online dictionary says:
"Irregardless originated in dialectal American speech in the early 20th century. Its fairly widespread use in speech called it to the attention of usage commentators as early as 1927. The most frequently repeated remark about it is that “there is no such word.” There is such a word, however. It is still used primarily in speech, although it can be found from time to time in edited prose. Its reputation has not risen over the years, and it is still a long way from general acceptance. Use regardless instead."
Damn it. There is such a word. There is such a word?
I know what linguists such as Steven Pinker and many average inhabitants of the blogosphere have to say about evolved words and phrases. The main objective of language is to convey meaning, and words such as irregardless manage to do that, even in their glorious incorrectness. Words such as debone and unravel may be accused of the same deficiency. Or, oversufficiency of affixes, to be exact.
Nope. No irregardless for me. Regardless of what you think.
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