actuality.log

This is a geeky post. Sorry. Maybe if you scroll down really quickly…

I was trying to get some (work related) writing done, when I get an e-mail from the computer support people at the university wondering what kinds of LINUX (sic) the machines in our lab are running. I don’t know if I’ve brought this up here, but I also double up as the sysadmin in my lab. Why? Well, I’m the geekiest of the bunch.

I tried informing them that we run a variety of RedHat based OSs, from older RedHat Linuces, some Fedora Core, and newer RedHat “Enterprise Linux” rebuilds called Scientific Linux. I soon get an e-mail from them saying their new security policy requires that all LINUX (sic) be either RedHat Enterprise Linux (RHEL) 3,4 or Fedora Core 3+. And RHEL is clearly preferred. (Oh my, are the 3 Debian users going to be pissed.)

I tried explaining to them that a rebuild of RHEL is still RHEL, and more mature than Fedora Core; as in I’m not keen on moving all machines over to Fedora Core (which isn’t particularly stable or long lasting), or sending RedHat a big bag of money. I have been unable to get through; at least I don’t think that I can make a difference. So I post all my arguments below.

0. Since the software is all open (as in freedom) and free (as in price), numerous people bundle different sets of software together and call it a “distribution”. There are numerous GNU/Linux distributions out there.
1. RedHat GNU/Linux was one of the earliest into the market and is (quite consequently) a very popular distribution of the OS, especially in the US.
2. The reason I tend not to deviate from it is because I’m used to it. I was talking to a friend the other day, and we realised we’ve been using it for just over a decade last Thursday.
3. One of the other reasons for RedHat’s popularity is that they released their product entirely free for download over the internet, as easy to burn CD images (ISOs). This ending up on a CD on the back of a computer magazine was my first introduction to the OS.
4. Years later, one day they decided they couldn’t do this anymore (citing things like they being “the highest users of bandwidth in the world”), and started charging thousands of dollars for their product; while spinning off a community supported variant of their code called Fedora Core.
5. While this was nice and good, Fedora Core is annoyingly bleeding edge, and won’t always work cleanly when it’s up, while getting outdated easily as the support community gets bored and moves onto newer, shinier technologies. For instance, the end of life (EOL) for a Fedora Core version is 1.5–2.0 years, while it’s 7 for RHEL.
6. This annoying most semi-mature people, they needed a way out. Another crucial bit of this story is that the software RedHat distributes is licensed under the GPL; which means that though they are free to charge money for compiled binaries, they are obligated to release the source code of the product. So these semi-mature people decided to take these sources, and compile it to generate RedHat’s more mature, slower changing “enterprise class” product. One of these groups consists of Fermilab, CERN, and various other labs and universities around the world—and their resulting product is called Scientific Linux.
7. Which is what we use. It is still more stable and thoroughly code-audited than Fedora Core, even though it doesn’t have a RedHat brand name attached to it. Being fully binary and source compatible with the “enterprise class” product, things like proprietary software built for RedHat’s product, like Mathematica, Intel’s high performance compilers or even just a closed-source device driver, will work out of the box and not know the difference.

I’m pleased to report that in terms of maintaining resolutions, I’m doing pretty well. I will get into greater detail sometime in the future, but for now, I’m going to talk about one of the problems I’m running into.

The fundamental issue with being me, is that I’m like this little monkey whose only tool is a crudely shaped rock. No matter what the problem thrown at me, I will proceed to approach it the only way I know how—banging senselessly using the aforementioned rock. Case in point, we have this year’s goals 1 and 2 which basically amount to “lose weight”. I could work out, but I proceed to do as I normally do—look for a loophole in the system. After making some subtle shifts to my diet, like replacing two bottles of these a day

with two bottles of these instead,

I’ve begun the process of reaching my target. And I’ve clearly (already) defeated the purpose of the exercise, namely 3; which is to be strong enough to whisk someone (within reason) off their feet.

God damn it.

(Yeah, really.)

Woman 1: “So, are you going out tonight?”
Woman 2: “Oh, I don’t know. I really don’t want to spend all that time getting ready. I wonder if I could just go like this?” *Points to ungroomed self in a sweatshirt and slacks*
Woman 1: *Furrowing her forehead* “I’m guessing that will be frowned upon.”
Woman 2: “I know, besides, do you think I’d get as many free drinks?”
Woman 2: “You have to work for it, right?”

(I love this town!)

This earlier post got me to thinking about being ignorant about other cultures (and just being ignorant in general). I don’t claim not to be part of an educated elite, where I do look down upon anyone who I deem is a “simpleton”. But in contrast to other people, I openly admit it, and consciously work toward not letting this get in my way during important decision making.

During much travel around this country, I couldn’t help but notice just how inward looking and uninformed people generally were. I naïvely assumed this was the cause of my big beef with the “farmlands of heartland America”. But after quite a bit of pondering, it dawned on me that it doesn’t really matter if you’re uninformed; I realised that it is everyone’s natural born right to be ignorant and apathetic (especially about things that don’t immediately concern them).

Earthquake in Kashmir, flooding in New Orleans, tsunami in Indonesia… honestly, I don’t care either. I mean I do… but I don’t, know what I mean? It’s not like I’m not compassionate or that I’m desensitised; it’s just, since none of these incidents affected me personally, I don’t see why they shouldn’t fall out of my mind’s list of things “I ought to care about”. Just like the rest of you, I will send a few relief cheques, feel better about doing my bit, and move along without another thought.

Now, I have a couple of friends who make it a point to inform me (on EVERY SINGLE INSTANCE) that they’re “Persian” and not “Arab”. But you know what? I don’t really care about the specifics. You’re from one of those generally-middle-eastern regions, and I will think of you as “Arab”. I don’t mean anything derogatory by that; I just don’t know any better, and don’t plan to educate myself either. Hell, I put up with such things too—like when people ask me if I speak “Indian”[1]—don’t I? It’s the same thing. If you don’t get to experience, don’t NEED to know, you don’t care. And you won’t know.

Neither do I.

And that’s perfectly OK. It’s OK to be ignorant about the world, and unfazed by all the badness that’s out there. What is NOT OK however is to then proceed to think you have some sort of “moral right” to go and mess around with cultures that you barely understand. Now that, my dearies, is an entirely different ball game; and is the crux of my beef “heartland America”. They know nothing, AND they vote on/in favour of things they have no idea about the implications of.

I, on the other hand, will continue confusing Persians with Arabs; and not feeling guilty in the least.

[1] Or when they ask me, “Do you have tutors flown in from England to teach you English?”

OK, this is just an ad, and for long-time readers/fans/foes, this is nothing new. But we’ll not let the young’uns know that.

Please check out a small collection of my photos on Orkut’s media gallery.

Praise and such most welcome.

Like I’ve said time and time again[1], it’s hard enough to find someone who cares for you, makes you happy and everything else (while you repay the favour) without narrowing down your selection pool based on language, skin colour, race, gender, whether your mom will approve, whether your grand-dad will approve … .

If someone happened to find another person who they care about and this makes them happy, why does it make you so uncomfortable? Deal with it; this has nothing to do with you. It doesn’t adversely affect you. You’ve got no right to complain. I realise that it’s probably natural to go with the “I don’t understand it, I must fear it” mentality, but honestly, you’ve got to be a bigger (wo)man than that. Learn, and grow. Don’t misunderstand and fear, or worse, hate.

The other class of homophobes who piss me off (far more), are those that think being gay has something to do with “having fun and shirking responsibility”. And by “shirking responsibility”, they mean not having to worry about things like impregnation. This, I believe, is a very intellectually-stunted outlook. Please get it through your thick skulls that you can really like someone—even if they have the same genitalia as you—and this has nothing to do with not wanting to get someone pregnant; it’s really only about wanting to be with the one you want.

Anyway, whatever your reasons for fear or hate, at least try to assuage yourself pragmatically. Honestly, what would you like better? Having two hotter, more sensitive guys with a better dress sense competing against you for that woman you worship from afar? Or them taking each other out of the equation and leaving her for you to hit on?

Now don’t you see? Don’t be a hater. Just be thankful that you need to do one less crunch. And this is what really bothers me so much about homophobes; they’re just so darned short-sighted.

[1] Penile Penal Affairs, page 2, last paragraph.

actuality dot log—Now cool enough to rip itself off^™.
(This is like one of those flashback episodes you see on major sitcoms from time to time.)

On the one hand, you have the ungratefuls who ask you question after question, but don’t thank you politely for your patient replies, or even once stop in to say hello.

On the other, you have the retards who can’t spell or form a sentence, and you realise they’re a lost cause, not worthy of real help. So you choose to mock them instead.

On the other hand (yes, I’m an alien with three hands), you have the jokers who think insulting you or your efforts is the optimal way of receiving help. The following is an (honest to god, not cooked up) e-mail “conversation” I had. (For newcomers, the page in question is this).

He says: (emphasis mine)

Hi
just went through your site !…..

I was looking at my prospects of joining umich (3.7/5.0) :(, my poor grades hope they are not sufficient to make it to umich, i’ve presented some papers and won two design contests.

but
looking at the way wrote things it looks that you are in real pain torture what not ? i ‘ m kind of afraid of …….how do u like umich and research wht r the prospects after that….. well im taking lilberties to write like this all of my junk…just as you did it in your website, I hope you don’t mind it.

Please guide me on pursuing higher studies, i wud like to work in automobiles industry.
Hope brother,you find some of your crucial time and respond,

regards

I say:

And where did I say anything even remotely implying I was in ‘real pain torture what not’?

He says: (emphasis mine)

I just had a feeling that u were spoiling ur website and not doing justice to the space provided to u. Anways i went a bit far with my incisive comments. I didn’t intend to hurt you.
I read ur masterpiece – penile rights or sth?/
anyways i was just havin fun typin, you r taking things seriously bro,

guide me,
waiting for ur reply
enjoy and tc

If I weren’t such a nice guy at heart, I think I would have turned rather violent at some point, rapidly accelerating the brewing of this altercation.

Happy waiting, retard.

I don’t usually get into current affairs on my journal, because I don’t keep myself abreast of such things; and I rarely care enough to write about events even when I do. But one recent event has pissed me off to no end, and has actually gotten me a little paranoid (unsurprisingly, pissing me off even more). It all started with the sensational revelation of Bush’s whole “secret wiretaps” programme.

I begin with every budding shallow-philosopher’s favourite first question:

If a tree falls in a forest, and there’s no one there to hear it, was there sound?

Now here’s the thing. I’d love to stay in my little bubble where I can imagine myself perfectly-righteous, and live my life under the rules defined by my implicit notions of what’s right and what’s wrong; but I can’t, and I don’t. I live in society governed by well defined rules, not arbitrary morals. I understand this, so I make it a point to keep myself aware of these rules, and follow them. That’s how it goes. I do this mostly because I want to, but even otherwise, just to avoid the unpleasantness that could arise if I didn’t.

On the same note, sometimes, I do enjoy doing things that aren’t “morally right” (as judged by my internal compass), but that are acceptable to the letter of the law. I go ahead and do these things anyway, knowing fully well I am protected (in the sense of not landing up in prison), because that’s how the law is worded. But, whether I’m doing the right thing or not in my mind, I am following the written rules that we, as a society, have chosen to live by.

The trouble begins when the legitimacy of some of these minor (but oh-so-gratifying) ethical breaches rely upon other people following those rules as well. If, without any good reason or right, you think it’s OK to spy on me and then proceed to allege that I was doing something you deemed unlawful, who’s really breaking the law?

This is my biggest beef with all of this. Those who favour this sort of thing (trampling on privacy rights in the interest of their good fight) will expect you to be swayed in their direction by the following sob speil: “Could you look yourself in the mirror if you had to bury 1000s of innocent civilians because you were too prudent about ensuring the civil liberties of terrorists?”

Short answer, yes. Freedom is important, and often calls for some sacrifice.

Now let me tell you the real sob story these events have now made a reality: Let’s assume you’re doing nothing wrong as such—but it could be construed as so by a bunch of overly zealous jurors from South Alabama—and the only reason the world knows about what you’re doing is because they were spying on you ILLEGALY in the first place. Now who’s really breaking the law?

No matter, it’s you who will end up in jail. And that’s seriously screwed up.

I end with my new variant of every budding shallow-philosopher’s favourite first question:

If a possibly minor infraction was committed, and no one observed it or was affected by it, was there an infraction?

Is it possible to confuse some sort of deep respect for someone’s intellect with a form of attraction toward them? This incident, apparently, had stemmed from just that. It’s bothersome when you don’t know whether to feel flattered or creeped out.

And, if it were possible, I would gladly trade a sizable chunk of that “intellect” for a modicum of sociability. But since it’s not, I’ve decided on an alternative plan; the crux of which is to stop worrying about our shortcomings and (ab)use our strengths. The details of this will unfold shortly.

Or more likely, such details will never be shared. I know it’s good to share and everything, but sometimes, one probably needs to keep trade secrets close to heart, you know, to gain and retain some competitive advantage. Or something like that.

So here’s what’s going on. My biggest beef is not with the masses who are getting engaged, but with me. While the rest of the world[1] is moving forward with their personal and professional lives, I am perfectly happy ogling over shiney LEDs.

Just what the fuck is wrong with me?

[1] Some 70% of my primary interaction set from college, probably over half the people I’m in touch with from school, and a major portion of the crowd I know in graduate school are, for all intents and purposes, either engaged or married.

This is getting ridiculous. I’m not making this up; another one of my friends just got engaged. This time I know the guy well too, and they’re perfect for one another, so I’m actually quite elated; which is a first.

But still, I mean, come on.

Now onward to site news. Firstly, after collecting some backlog, all your comments and e-mails have been answered. If I’ve missed you, please holler. Secondly, since rumours were brewing about the recent silence in these parts, here are the facts:

0. All I’ve really been doing when I sit at a computer is drool over new computers.
1. My computer, though resurrected (in the loosest sense of the word), is extremely flakey.
2. I have enough ideas and material for a couple of aural logs. But they’re stuck in my X5L, which I broke. I’ve shipped it off for fixing, but knowing my luck, stuff will probably be erased while they’re “fixing” it. Meh.
3. A couple of posts I’ve written up rely upon photos I shot with my brilliant (sarcasm) camera phone. It is only after I got home did I realise I hadn’t the means to run their software to snag these images from the phone. Yes, I’m locked out of MY IMAGES, from MY PHONE. Bah.
4. You slackers haven’t in the least been forthcoming with stellar articles after my call a couple of days ago. Shame on you.

I am extremely pleased I waited (for the first time, ever). Over the past day or so, there were a couple of additions to the ThinkPad line, and I’ve decided on what I want. Some highlights:

Rugged build.
As low as ~3 lb (1.36 kg).
Dual core, ~2 GHz each.
Extended battery life of ~10 hrs.

This is what I’ve been waiting for, Apple. Unless you can wow me in a couple of days at Macworld, you know where my money is going.

Update: And apparently, they have. I love choice; I hate choosing.

Premise: Being rather socially stunted, I’m not always aware of the signals I’m giving out or those that I’m expected to pick up on.

It being Friday evening and everything, I was easily convinced to join someone for a night out in the town. After the obvious fun times ogling over drooly clothes (and finally making the inevitable selection) came the fancy wining and dining. I hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, just talking about the most interesting things in a most understatedly elegant ambience.

During the course of all of this, a palm that innocuously rested on a knee at first slowly worked its way a little up a thigh.

I think I should have freaked out at the time, but I smiled softly—flattered—but gently pushed his hand away; nodding slightly in disfavour, but not really wanting to cause much distress. The event passing, the conversation soon dried up. Later, on the walk home, the implication of what’d happened began to sink in.

I’ll probably bring this up again once I’ve calmed down from my state of hysteria.

The scariest things in a little kid’s life usually involve the hair-raising monster under her bed or the creepy hunchback lurking down the road with the odd protrusion on his forehead. But that’s not the story for this kid. The most intimidating thing in his life has always been his dentist. Not only has she been around (and caused) some of the most physically painful experiences I’ve ever had[1], but having known her since I was a little kid, she’s also assumed that it’s her right to double up as a stern mommy. The evil kinds of mommies that kick cute sleeping puppies on the sidewalk out of their way. The kinds that poke and prod you with their sharp tools, and then yell at you for being a baby as you start to cry.

Growing up, I was mortified of her, but for whatever reason (she was a stellar dentist, apparently), my mom kept dragging me—kicking and screaming—back to her year after year. She even got socially involved in our lives when at some point she became our neighbour as well. Needless to say, that didn’t bode well with this little kid. I assumed this feeling would pass as I got older, but the phobia only got progressively worse. The unfunny part is, I’m something like a quarter century years old now, and a shiver still goes down my spine every time her face flashes across my mind.

When I was home for the holidays over the summer, I had not the slightest hesitation in meeting my parents shaggily clothed, pony-tailed and pierced. I didn’t in the least worry about what they’d say as trudged down to one of my grandparents’ village. But this woman I was still mortified of. She surely already had enough reasons to yell at me (or so I thought), I couldn’t possibly face her looking like I did, giving her more ammo. What would she think? Would she approve? Would I be lectured and yelled at while she’s hurting me? Would there be a never-ending stream of questions I didn’t want to answer?

Then, it happened. Not being able to take it anymore, I cheated on her. I found a woman who lovingly cared for me, treated me with respect, and actually complimented my oral hygiene as she was gently prodding my mouth. Something I longed for and never once received in all those years.

And I hate that I feel guilty about what I did.

[1] Men don’t have to endure things like childbirth. We get to experience only the more pleasant aspects of baby-making.

Postscript: I am quite proud of the way I worded and structured this post. And I’m curious as to who you fear the most. Don’t be afraid to scream it out.

Though the occasional pretty young thing walking by is a very pleasant change of scenery, getting work done at a coffee shop isn’t always a trivial venture. Being computer-less however, I’ve had little choice but to spend a lot of time outside of home even to satisfy my primal needs; like checking e-mail. I was going to write about my trials and tribulations in the process, but I know you’re all tired of my verbosity, plus the following strip of my favourite comic (and yours) sums things up nicely.

And yes, if you’re reading little-miss-I’m-so-important, please shut the fuck up.

Anyway, on another note, I am planning on doing something a little different with actuality dot log. Do you have something to say you really want heard? Would you like to reach a fairly large (1000–3000 people per day) audience? If you do, please get in touch. I plan to start featuring “guest-columns” bi-weekly (once in two weeks, not two in one week) initially and increase the frequency if there is more demand.

Anyone is welcome. Any topic you care about. Your views can even be opposed to my personal opinions. All that I ask is you spell your words and punctuate somewhat sanely.