Category: General

– I wasn’t kidding when I said this place has absolutely nothing. I walked around for 3.5 hours yesterday and didn’t come up with one photo op. You could say I am blind, but I seriously doubt that.

– More male-female difference observations. I was at this one session for most of the morning where they were dealing with continuum thermodynamical descriptions of tissue development and related computational methods (the sort of things that put food on my table). It was actually relatively crowded, but there wasn’t a single woman in the audience. Not until the last talk anyway, where this person spoke about how aging (and gravity) affects (sagging of) facial muscles and related it to how they could deterministically come up with good and lasting plastic surgery procedures (to remove wrinkles, say).

What to make of that, I don’t know.

– I need to buy one of these massaging shower heads for my home. My goodness they’re soothing.

– I’ve been thinking a lot about my next potential camera for a while now. But I just implicitly assumed since my current camera has made me very lazy (since it’s quite easy to take decent pictures), I wouldn’t want part easily with it. But it dawned on me just 12 minutes ago that I probably am not as attached to it as much as I was a while ago. I just gave it away, and it’ll end up with someone I don’t even know to take some pictures of some event thingy tomorrow.

But then again, that could also be because this place isn’t particularly happening when it comes to things to see and photograph.

– I give my talk early tomorrow morning. I better prepare some slides or something. I’ve been told that my previous favourite colour combination involved a certain red that 15% of males are colour blind to, so that’s another thing I need to remember.

I just got back from dinner with three women. Now the conversation kept veering toward things like how many women faculty there are in our departments, where they are in their career, how hard things might have been at various earlier points in their careers and so on.

Now my question is this. In fields such as applied mechanics or some such clearly dominated by male geeks (and by dominated, I mean nothing more than there are many more of them in number, I am in no way referring to intellectual ability), what’s the chance a woman is going to be treated any less than perfect?

I mean, as far as I’ve seen, as a student, the number of women are usually so small in comparison with men, that the few are treated like goddesses. No matter how smart they are, capable they are, attractive (whatever criteria of judgement you choose to judge by) … they are.

From Lincoln, NE.

Everything seems larger.

Everyone’s larger and more-fully clad.

And much whiter.

– You shouldn’t start packing for a trip at 12:10 after your ride calls and says she’ll be there at 12:30. You’re bound to forget something. Something important.

– When your boarding pass says row 11, you assume that means you’re going to be somewhere waaay up in the front of the flight. Not the last row.

– Duct tape is not a safe way of securing, oh, 10% of the hull of an aircraft. (Picture probably later.)

– Beware of places where their idea of “variety in cuisine” is degrees of raw to well done steak.

[Halfway through typing up last night’s post, I realized I had at least three quite unrelated thoughts I was trying to cram into one block of text. Before I probably do something similar today, I’d like to say in my defence that it was almost 2 A.M when I typed that up, and I wasn’t particularly concentrating on what I was saying, just desperately trying to do anything but the ton of work I had piled up.

Needless to say, I still have all that work piled up. Hence the existence of today’s post.]

My second pass at this. The “let’s try to make some sense” variant.

Men and women are rather different. We can feign things so that we appear similar enough on the surface, but we’re rather different. Case in point, levels of communication. I am fairly certain we each have a certain treshold-number-of-words we’re capable of handling in a day. On average, I’d say a woman can handle some 8000 whereas the guy can handle some 1000.

Yes, I made up those numbers.

Anyway, guys just don’t talk as much about certain things. We don’t even talk as much at all, let alone about specific things. Which is a root cause for a lot of confusion, as at many points, women like things explicitly stated. They’re not tremendous fans of the ambiguous flows guys have little trouble wallowing in. So during dinner, it came up over and over how this guy never calls, or never writes or never anything. But then again, out of the blue, at random points, he is still capable of extremely sweet gestures.

Of course, since I was there, and I was a guy too, I was quite obviously asked for my take on things, in a how-could-he-possibly-be-seeing-me way. My first instinct, which was what I went with, was for god sakes the please don’t label him as “generally nice”. He is being nice, specifically with you, for reasons he will not state, but ones you must magically read. I mean, you are the woman right? Aren’t you supposed to be extremely perceptive to this sort of thing? Why should he say anything? Why should he call when he does what he does?

Of course, it later dawned on me that that was a spur of the moment, erroneous judgement call. In most cases, someone being nice is being nice expecting some sort of payoff, but that isn’t always true. Even cynics have to have that much faith in humanity. I mean, the nature of some of these “sweet gestures” could fall under a general sort of carey-safeguardey-providery “state”, which is nothing more than a natural response to “take care of and be nice to” someone close who needs help at the time.

Meaning, read into it or not, don’t trust a clown like me to make the call. And definitely don’t take my take on things as sufficient reason to go ahead with your “make yourself stunning so he doesn’t stand a chance since he likes you but just doesn’t know it, yet” plans.

[I’m going to be leaving for a talk soon. Which means I have to do things so that I have something to talk about. Which means I am not going to be updating this place for a while.

Which means things aren’t going to be too different from how they’ve been in the recent past.]

I went out to dinner to this fancy place, the Bella Ciao, with a friend a few nights ago. It was definitely one of the most pleasant (and did I mention fancy?) dining experiences I’ve had in a while. When people decide on places to eat, they most probably confer with their refined palate as to how it feels like pleasuring itself for the day. But I, like a few others I’m sure, just pick the place with the most appealing wait staff.

You’d think someone like me will just go to the closest place open to minimize time wasted and try to rush back to their work, but that’s not true. I enjoy good food. I enjoy adorable waitresses more.

But, I digress.

Returning to our central theme, the one you know nothing about considering the digression, I was out to dinner with a friend recently and quite intrigued by some of the questions brought up during the conversation that ensued. Now, being a woman, she (perfectly legitimately) had to bring up irrational men behaviour that she’d recently been subjected to in her life. By, irrational men behaviour, I don’t mean the behaviour of irrational men, I mean the seemingly irrational behaviour men exhibit when it comes to… let’s just say, certain aspects of life. Being a male and all, I have some insight into the “why”s pertaining to the things we do, as opposed to most women, who just have the pleasure of dealing with the “what”s.

Anyway, when things came up, I found myself coolly delivering very sane sounding canned answers that made perfect sense to the innocent third party. I know fully well why I probably did this, apart from the near-divine meal I was concentrating so hard on. I honestly believed what I was saying, and had earlier given it so much thought, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind as to what I should say. But later, the next day or something, I thought about it. I wasn’t entirely sure.

For the most part, I’m fairly certain most people who’re arbitrarily nice to other people have some sort of weird ulterior motive. More so when it’s a guy doing something for a woman seemingly without reason. They needn’t even know what it is, it probably exists and they’re doing it hoping for the payoff. Now I believe that so strongly, a bunch of things I said that night were parroting this theme. Now, I don’t know what it is, I am not sure. After much thought, there is this little fuzzy region where the guy sometimes tends to be nice, ulterior-motive-free. It’s some sort of inherent carey-safeguardey-providery state where he just has to. It’s like nature gives him no choice but to don that role. How long this lasts and when the he-definitely-wants-something and is thus nice state starts isn’t entirely clear.

Now you can’t go back and recant everything you said a few days ago and kill the hope that random male was being arbitrarily nice because he probably liked you. Not after your statements reinforced another’s earlier plan of making myself stunning so he doesn’t stand a chance since he likes me but just doesn’t know it, yet.

Eek.

You probably need more detail into the specifics of the topics of conversation that came up to have a clue as to what I am talking about. I’m too lazy to go back and reword this for clarity. Probably some other time.

I kinda like living alone. I get to shave myself in weird places

of the house.

If you see someone wearing a cute (lime green no less) top, you compliment the person. The standard response is, “why, thank you”, or “I didn’t think you’d notice” or something of the sort from the person you complimented.

Not, everybody else in the room suddenly questioning your sexuality.

What would you do if you saw someone pulling off a lime green top?

I now present to you Fastlane. It’s the first picture that’s made it into delineate without being earlier released on a regular album or actuality. As far as I can tell, it was shot somewhere in the Netherlands, though I am not entirely sure.

(Actually, it’s the second, but it’s the first one I am proud of.)

I just loaded a fishing drink dispensing machine with the required number of quarters for a drink and later realized the only drink it’s capable of selling me is root beer, because all the things normal people consume are sold out.

Now I get to enjoy the fishing wondrous taste of toothpaste dissolved in water.

Ick.

Being at work at ungodly hours isn’t particularly happening. (6:44, the next morning, for the curious.)

(Notice how I use the word fish so much more every time I cycle through the episodes of South Park? I do too. God damn it.)

[Note: I’ve finally responded to all recent comments on the web log. Sorry for the wait people, I’ve just been insanely lazy. If you were waiting earlier for me to respond, please scroll down now. After reading this post of course.]

You’re a male. You’re alone. By “alone”, I mean nothing more (or less) than you not being around anyone at that point of time. Actually, it’s a little bit more than that. Even if there are people around, if you aren’t “attached” to anyone, you’re alone. I use the word “attached” loosely and you can take it any way you want to.

[Random image]

Like I was trying to say, you’re a male. You’re alone.

You then decide to go about some arbitrary activity. Let’s say (window?) shopping at a mall. You don’t think too hard, you just go ahead and do it.

Alone. As you really are.

While going about said random activity, be it lunch (alone) or whatever, if someone (let’s say interesting woman) is interested in coming up to you and starting a conversation, she “just can”.

And does.

There is no reason for her to be intimidated or concerned or any-mixed-anything-like weirdness, because it’s clear. You’re alone. There is no one to “deal with”, but you. No one’s claiming that’s easy, but it could be worse.

You’re a woman. You’re alone. You then decide to go about some arbitrary activity. Let’s say (window?) shopping at a mall. You don’t think too hard, you just go ahead and do it.

With someone else.

While going about said random activity, be it lunch (not alone, with your “friend(s)”) or whatever, if someone (let’s say intimidated-yet-fascinating geek) is interested in coming up to you and starting a conversation, he “can’t”.

I mean, he can, but it’s just so much harder. He has to deal not only with the one person he’d like to talk to, but also her “friends” she is always hanging around. What’ll they think? Will they find him funny too? Can he be smart enough to be funny enough to all of them so no one gives her a “negative” review?

(Or course, a similar set of doubt-filled questions also exist about attributes other than funny, intelligence, sensitivity, attractiveness, …)

He has to, in some sense, perform the fishing “spread his coloured feathers peacock style” dance, but angle it so that more than one person finds the light reflecting off of it colourful.

Try it. It’s insanely harder than you might assume.

What’s not hard, however, is to tune your brand of humour and coloured-feathery-goodness to one frequency, and keep it there.

So, like I started of asking, what’s up with that?

How hard is it to go about your tasks alone so it’d be easier for us? We do it for you don’t we?

Don’t you see it’s hard for us?

No, you probably don’t. You probably missed us because we weren’t brilliant enough to impress the friend you’re always hanging around.

You know those dance studios / gymnastics places / general-well-being activity type places where the people who do that sort of thing hang out? I was walking past something of the sort a few days ago, and saw an ad for this “Everyday Yoga” session for a couple of hours in the evening today. Being the curious sorts, plus wanting some of this much sought after well being, (plus wanting to start making the move to the new place worthwile) I decided to show up for one of the sessions at 6 or so this evening.

It was a most peaceful experience and extremely relaxing. But that’s not the real story. Oh no.

I was the only non 18-19 year old, non blonde, non sports-bra-n-tights wearing, non female there, apart from the instructor chap. I mean, at one point, he’s like, “ah, wahgnube, some male energy in the room”. I am not kidding, what’s the frickin’ deal with men and fear of yoga classes? I am seriously not kidding. This is the sort of group where they give you this cuddly lil furry keychain just for showing up, complete with all carefully and prettily placed ads for tons of other future events on them.

Not that I am complaining or anything.

If I were a writer, I would currently be going through something of a writer’s block. But since I’m not, and I don’t really need to have particularly insightful, interesting or humorous things to talk about before I actually say something, I’ll just chalk down this recent lull to laziness. Or being busy. Or anything else that floats your boat.

It’s strange. I can, apparently only really (as in comfortably, with little effort) “write” in certain very specific environments. A particular position on my bed for instance. And now, without the ability to pay for stable internet in this new apartment, I don’t have that cozy position as an option. I tried sitting at a café (actually a place I really love to hang) near by, but I keep getting distracted by people. From a Bible study group around me yesterday, to this partying group a short while a go—the theme of said party being pimps n’ hos. I gave up and returned home.

Anyway, since the Doom 3 demo’s been out, and my machine is no where near completion, I’ve been playing it on the laptop. With insanely low graphic detail and almost all effects turned off and yet at some single digit fps. Which doesn’t really make that big a difference apparently, since the freaking thing just renders a black screen at 5 frames a second.

My review so far – The shawdowing is awesome! Only there aren’t any light sources to cast freaking shadows.

(And I didn’t, I swear, pick some arbitrarily bad spot. This is the state WITH THE “FLASHLIGHT” for crying out loud. Yes, your health would be “only 31” too if you couldn’t see shit while constantly being gunned down.)

It “just happened”. Sometime last week, like magic, I just decided to step out of these past few months of unproductivity and do (quite decent) work. Sure it’s cutting in on my goof off time, but I am quite enjoying it. On average, sleep time has been slashed to 4 or so hours a day. These things work, however, in mysterious ways (well, not really) and the slacker portion of me (the large portion) decides to just use the now-less slack periods to the fullest. And,

– I’ve seen ALL episodes of Futurama, again.
– I’ve seen ALL released episodes of South Park, mostly again.
– I’ve seen five out of six seasons of Sex and the City, again.
– Listened to pretty much everything Led Zeppelin has ever created, multiple times.
– I’ve caught up on all my favourite comics, and one strip of one of them hit me as particularly funny, for real life reasons too deep to delve into.

Drawn by Aaron Farber as a guest comic for Scary go Round.

All in less than two weeks. Doesn’t sound too productive now, does it? You’d be surprised.

Or is that I.

So you see this lady across the street trying to get into her car. Fairly common a sight, until you realize she’s apparently recently been in some sort of accident, and is using crutches to wobble along. Clearly, she needs help with her bags, the annoying dog, the car door, and continuing to not fall through all of this. No you look, smile and approach her offering help (no, I don’t mean kicking the widdle puppy). You then have to face the wrath of her cold “how dare you give me that condescending-pity-filled look, don’t you think I can take care of myself?, just watch me” look.

Or you pretend to not notice and assume that she’s fine and go about your business, and end up facing the wrath of her cold “can’t you see I need help here, what sort of evil self centered bastard are you for not having the basic decency to help a soul in need?” look.

You can never win.

OK, so you’re at this restaurant with this woman and the waitress is ready to take your orders. You, through keen observation, extreme attentiveness and acute memory, know what she orders each time, and go ahead ordering for the two of you. You then have to face the wrath of her cold “how dare you? you control freak, you think you know what’s best for me?” look.

Or you pretend you don’t know what she likes and go about just placing an order for yourself. You end up facing the wrath of her “you’re so fishing inattentive. you have no clue as to what I want, or know my needs. I can’t believe I’m so invisible to you” look.

You can never win.

Or maybe it’s just me.