Road to Grand Canyon

On the way... Lake Mead

To Hoover Dam

Pacific Time and Mountain Time

Joshua Tree, at Kingman

Grand Canyon Railway Museum, Williams

Steam engine, Williams

Ghost cowboy town on Route 66, Williams

Las Vegas

Where I stayed...Excalibur Casino

On my way to Mirage to catch the Beatles Love show... Paris and Ballys ahead

Yeah, I had to walk the BB in Vegas of all the places since I didn't here

Still walking in circles, Planet Hollywood on the right

The Forum Shops at Caesars

The Bellagio and it's dancin' fountains across the street

Can't remember what the pagoda was about, some Rockhouse it says

Flamingo, don't I love it when pics have the name

At the Mirage, playin the Wheel of Fortune (?) Lost 5 bucks

\

Aah, almost there in time for the show...

There. Amazing. No pics allowed. It is all in my head.

Made it back at around 1 am, thinkin' about the 6 am tour to the Grand Canyon.

San Francisco

Embarcadero 

The view I woke up to...

MoMA

Hyde St Pier... how I love ships

Seagull of the quizzical look

Lou's Blues, Fisherman's Wharf

Some parade on Market St, must be pre-St Patricks day celebrations

Walkin' against the crowd, Fisherman's Wharf

Flyin' high high... so free...

...and not so free... Alcatraz

Ghiradelli Sq, only if you wanna be trampled underfoot 

Under the bridge

GGB from the bay cruise

Some silver jellyfish, Aquarium of the Bay

...looks creepy

Some other kind of jellyfish. What's the right side up?

Think this is from some hill in Sausalito

GGB from Sausalito

Haight St, kinda like downtown NYC...except they don't check IDs and people smoke up in public

Haight Ashbury finally

Spring

What I'm supposed to be doing right now ('now' meaning this sunny, windy morning) is write 10 pages of my thesis, 3 pending assignments, walk my standard 20 blocks in half hour (not in that order), but here I am in my basement hole of a lab listening to Alice Cooper screaming 'Poison', drinking coffee and... writing... this... sentence. A starting system problem no cranking or jump start can solve. Maybe I should change the song.

Ok.

(Not changing the song, just on repeat).

Spring. The season, not the verb. New birth, new beginnings. Vernal equinox. Blah. The ides of March, March madness. Nowruz, Passover, Easter. April is the cruelest month. Blah. New sentence, old thoughts.

Every March - April, something happens. Not all good. If you're in school, it is midterms / end of the school year (meaning tests and exams again, depending on which part of the world you are in), or preparing for the dreaded passage to, or worse, rejection by engineering / medical schools / jobs. If you're 'lucky' enough to be working, end of 2nd quarter, possible promotions, salary hikes... or lay offs. If you belong to neither categories, something still happens. Mostly by proxy.

So this spring, since I belong to the afore-afore-mentioned category, I am supposed to be writing this paper to graduate. Instead I took a break and looks like it is spilling over. The western world calls this 'spring break', or a more apt description - 'study week' or 'reading week'.

Here's some of the stuff I read this break:

(This one's all hazy like the memory...)

... And why is this so clear? And polite?

 

Apparently, going to an Ivy League school means people assume you can read and make connections and correlations and conclusions.  So here's how it works. You see numbers and words - this translates into songs... think Rolling Stones, Manhattan Transfer and all your idols... and...

... you reach the only possible conclusion - next time take your guitar and hitch hike all the way to Chicago.

Oh, and I studied real hard too, take a look:

So much for spring break...

From San Francisco to Vegas to the Grand Canyon and back to a basement at the Big Apple...procrastinating.

Back to my paper.

Of Mice (and not Men)

Three blind mice. Three blind mice.
See how they run. See how they run.
They all ran after the farmer's wife,
Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,
Did you ever see such a sight in your life,
As three blind mice?


Three blind mice. Without tails. Someone was responsible for this mutilation, horrible amputation. And because of this, I'm disoriented. Dis-orient: Loss of locus, loss of alignment, position, etc., etc., etc. Disoriented by dismemberment. Dis-member: Loss of limb, loss of a thing in a group. So 'disoriented by dismemberment' would mean a loss of alignment caused by a loss of a member. 

I'm talking about Apple's Magic Mouse. I went to my department the other day to print something, and I see these nice-looking white things all alone next to the nice white keyboards. Not attached. Nice. Now I'm all for any form of freedom. It is how I am supposed to function with this freedom is what disturbs me.

I have used Microsoft's wireless mouse long time ago. That was okaaaay. I mean there were still distinctions on left and right-click and scroll. (And switch hands without confusion). This however... such smooth contours, I had to google to learn how to use it: one finger for scrolling, two fingers for navigating...now the details are so... you know what (don't blame me, blame the tech writers who churn out this stuff). A 360 degree scroll is different from swipe, thank you. Wonder who thought of implementing this gesture imitation in technology for better usability, baah don't tell me, I can quote the paper right now, shame on me.

Anyway, this thing sucks. I never needed to reassign right to left functionality anytime (I mean for the Microsoft wireless mice), but now I'm forced to for the 'Magic' mouse. Because the bloody thing has a f#$%^&* smooth body like... whatever. 'Ambidextrous' design apparently just means it fits in both hands and it feels like home.

Now what I did: I moved the mice to different laptops to see if they worked away from paired devices. HAHA. It does, but only if Discoverable or some such option is enabled in your System Preferences. I could be wrong here but I didn't have the patience to prove this by repeated experimentation and higher sample size. I don't care enough. I wasn't moved enough. Neither to find supporting evidence nor oppositions.

After using this device for a limited time, the first impression of how 'nice' it looks or how 'clean' the desks look seems kind of irrelevant. Nice looking things just get you lost. And make you spend more time to print that paper that was due 10 minutes ago. I am superficial, I like the idea of wireless and all, no clutter et cetera, et cetera, but forcing me to spend a minute more on something than what I'm supposed to spend - that is - um.. unforgivable.

Give me back the tailed mice. With the distinctive shape. Or forget the tail, keep the shape. Us laggards in technology need the old.... or 'real' new stuff. Not amputations disguised as development.

Rant

People make things up. They assume. We assume. Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups. Or as someone said 'If you assume anything from what I said, you make an ASS of U and ME both.'


Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics illustrates this: if we see two things next to each other, we draw a connection from one to the other. Our minds construct a sequence, a connection, a relationship. Even if the relationship is obscure, we’ll eventually find it (or make one up). In space, we call this collage. In time, it’s montage. In real life, it's gossip. Some call it conversation, others call it news. Or discussion or moral discourse for the betterment of my child/ the common good etc., if god forbid your parents / professors / idols indulge in this sequencing of events. 


The reason for this sudden rant? I'm just peeved. I assumed someone would show up and they didn't; someone assumed I would have a certain drink and I didn't feel like it; someone else assumed something else just cuz I was sitting alone aaaaaaarghhh. So. 


So I started up my laptop, and typed all this bull just to stop myself from kicking my own butt. Should step out. Should step out. I will write the rest of this post later. 

Not writing.

Something for the wanderers...maybe

So it is now official. A new touch-screen tablet computer from Apple, 9.56 inches high, 7.5 inches wide, and 1.5 pounds. Now I am not a fan of technology in general - I don't even have a phone anymore. I am real old-school and think that a phone should be a phone, a camera should be a camera, an mp3 player should just be an mp3 player... no hybrids and 2 and 3 and 4 in 1 packages work for me. It is like combining a guitar and a keyboard. Ok I know there is a keytar, but that is just a keyboard or synthesizer that you hang on your shoulders like a guitar - just a change of form, but no messing with the function, the bloody thing is still a keyboard.

Anyway, the reason I like the idea of a laptop that is 9.5 inches is that it is more readable AND it weighs just over a pound. A MacBook is about 5 pounds and you can walk for about only 30 blocks at a stretch lugging that thing in your backpack. Also, you just can't whip it out everytime you have this amazing thought in your head and you want to write it down (if you are the kind to have amazing thoughts, or delusional enough to think so). Also, the keypad on your iPhone/iPod is just too small. Yes, I have heard of these amazing inventions called a book and pen, but I'm sticking to the tech thingies right now. And believe me, it is a tad uncomfortable to walk and write in a legible manner, you still need to make a stop at the nearest coffee shop. By then the thought disappears or has lost its original epiphanic feel.

Ok, so with this new thing, I still may lose some time jotting down my thoughts or whatever, but for me it is the mobility it allows that attracts me. I will be able to walk 60 blocks. Yeah I am aware that I can walk without the encumbrance of books, bag, laptop, phone, but that's beside the point right now. This reduction in weight and addition of font size and hit size on screen... it is cool.

The real reason why I like it - I get that much extra space for more books when I cross international borders... I wonder why airports don't seem to change that ancient rule of 50 pounds per bag and only 2 bags at that. Maybe they should start weighing people and those of us who are below a certain girth and weight should get to carry additional baggage. And vice versa. You don't think? I think.

By the way, Apple should come up with a new name for this cool thing. iPad sounds like some female hygiene product. Come to think of it, it sure will be funny to see that men will have to carry Pads around too.

...and the art of breaking ties, or how to lose friends and random others

#1: Move


Now there are a million reasons why people move from place to place, hop from job to job, bar to bar, and so on. Good and bad reasons. The majority consider the not-so-good ones to be forms of movement that hang on to prepositions (see previous post). These are construed to be cowardice or 'quitting' by the general public and also by well-meaning friends who question your motives (cuz they want you to stay... maybe you're the best thing that happened to them, who knows? Or, most probably they are just selfish and don't like the change your move could cause in their lives). In any case, moving from one thing to another may stem from your feelings of dissatisfaction, unhappiness, sheer boredom or hope. Yes, hope.

Whatever reason for the movement, you lose some good stuff when you pack your bags - the choices you make from what books and CDs to take and what to leave behind and so on. (There is a 44 pound limit). It is a well-thought out decision no matter how impulsive or irrational the move is.

Enough said, but the key to making a clean break is to move with one suitcase and a flight, and tell goodbye if you are so inclined.

#2: Stop answering calls. Do not call. Change your number. 


In addition to moving somewhere, even if it is just changing apartments across floors, it helps to change your number. The people you leave behind need not know, and don't store their numbers if you are the type who drunk dials at 3am. If you don't possess a phone, even better.

#3: Create fake gmail, FB, etc. accounts. Or delete existing ones.

Now this is one way to still know what people you know are up to without them catching you (depending on their privacy settings, and if you care to know). But then if you are the one breaking ties, why would you even bother? No one's holding a gun to your head to hit Reply. And the Ignore button is there for a reason, right?

#4: Fight


I don't think this needs much thought.

#5: Get caught stealing someone's partner


Messy situation this. But works real effective if your intent is to alienate your women friends for good. Word gets around too. Who cares, in some circles you may be known as a player... for better or worse.

#6: Be an ass

Now this is the easiest of the lot, especially if you are one, you just need to be yourself. Say all the rude (but true) things to people about people, make them look stupid or whatever in public and tada... you will be sitting at that bar for eternity with just your venom for company. Being an ass, or making an ass of yourself indulging in risque behavior is by far the least taxing and surest way to get rid of the crowd.

#7. Be yourself

Now no matter what the shrinks and your parents tell you, honesty is not the best policy. Which means everybody you meet is a dressed up shadow of what they actually are and not the real thing. Barbie is more real than the rest of the world, at least she is meant to be plastic and stays that way. Anyway, for the world and his wife, we are at a masquerade every second of our breathing lives. So, in addition to #6, just being yourself also works a dream to get rid of everyone around you. (And for most of us, #6 = #7).

Whither thou goest?

Being on the move is a great way to live. (My pronouncement of the day). Walk. Keep walking (or any other form of ambulation). It doesn't matter where, but as long as you are on the run, things don't catch up with you that fast, like age for instance. As far as I know, it is the minute you stand still that stuff like grief, doubt, despair, and a car hits you.

Motion shakes off things that cling and could later get stuck and drown you. Think about it. The stronger your heart beats, lesser chances of the bad cholesterol getting stuck. (I said stronger, not faster. And since I know nothing medical, disregard this analogy). Ok, it's like sex (now that I know). Anyway, being on the move lets the negative things trail behind you like a bride's train. At least it is external. It is when you are stationary that it engulfs you or you trip on it and break your nose at the altar as you say I do. Before that happens, do the Julia Roberts thing...run baby run.

Motion is good and I have JC to back me up on this (not that I need his backing for a blog post)... after all the gospels say he walked on water, not stayed put. And the hasty Peter did too. He started to drown only when he stopped and saw the waves and what not. See what I mean?

So, now I have come to peace with my constant need to walk, run, and relocate from apartment to apartment, job to job, place to place and country to country. It is just other people who add prepositions to my ambulatory words. Running (away), walking (out), moving (on), etc., etc., etc. To hell with them.

Lines I Like

Go lightly down your darkened way
Go lightly underground
I'll be down there in another day
I won't rest until you're found... 


The Ground Beneath Her Feet: U2, Lyrics: Salman Rushdie


...the right place was always the one she wasn't in. Always in the wrong place, in a condition of perpetual loss, she could (she did) unaccountably take flight and disappear, and then discover that the new place she'd reached was just as wrong as the place she'd left.


The Ground Beneath Her Feet: Salman Rushdie

Synesthesia

Does the word 'mischievous' look like a dimpled grin and a glint in the eye or is it just a problem with my vision? The word 'blue' sounds so perfect for the color, that I see the color. (Now I have auditory problems too). And 'yellow' looks wilted to me, or do I just associate it with dead daffodils instead of the sun? Oh, 'sun' is orange-red, not bright yellow.

Wonder why the song Everything Burns brings to mind a silhouette of a woman, the sound of wind ascending and a flame that casts everything into a purplish hue? I like the image in my head, I don't want to spoil it by watching the video.  I remember the first time I heard Desert Rose - I didn't even know the name of the song then, but the second I heard the intro and Cheb Mami's longing burden to the song, I told my friends that I hoped the music video would show a man in black driving a black Merc through the sand dunes into the sunset. Quite close it turned out to be (thank god), except that Sting was holding a camcorder or somethin' and the car was a Jag (I think).

This happens often. The images that rise from listening to a song I mean. Too often. But sometimes the mismatches are disturbing - what I see in my mind and what the reality is. Which is why I dislike gchat or whatever form of online communication. I hate cellphones too - certain voices (more often if it is an interview), sound like rocks crumbling before a landslide, or bread crumbs of the homemade kind. Dissonant in its presence and absence of sound.  Both in online, or real-time conversations, a single word or phrases in a certain pattern, brings to mind a particular tone of voice or face, or color that I react to...

I have now purchased a sense of humor. And I have trained myself to have certain blindspots. As for dealing with aural disharmony, I have my iPod. (I don't take calls if I can help it. I can help it).

There is an instinctive dislike to a certain kind of voice, that I avoid talking to the person with the voice. Yeah it is rude, and yeah, the person might be 'nice', but it is nothing personal. (Though in my limited experience, people with the certain voice turned out to be not so nice, or just a waste of my time. I did not say stupid. So there).

Most of these things perhaps stem from associations, or how we remember (or choose to forget) things. I can't remember why I hate the smell of Jovan musk perfume, but I remember punching someone for wearing that 'scent'.  Perhaps I hate the certain voice, b'cuz it reminds me of an unattractive mean woman. I don't know.

I shouldn't care too. Except that this problem spills over to other areas - I find that it takes me forever to write anything at all. What looks good on paper, doesn't look good online, and when I read it aloud, it sounds terrible - just no rhythm. Don't know if it is a good or a bad thing. Oh and what looks good on paper to me is something written in a black gel/ ink pen. Anything written in blue is not worth saving.  And once I post this, the blog template makes me 'read' different from when I write this on the text editor. Text editor = white, blog = black. I like black. And red. White is not a color, it is a fear... of blank pages.

1st Draft, 2nd draft, ....nth draft....wonder when all my senses be in harmony? Maybe if they were, I would be well-coordinated. Or my sentences will be.

Random

I don't make new year resolutions. First of all, who said it was 'new'? Or 'happy'? A 'year' I can pretend to understand - something that some people with lots of 'time' on their hands decided to do - count how long it takes for our planet to circle around a star once. Now this varies anywhere from 340 to 380 days. A 'common' year is 365 days. 


So hello everybody, 'happy', 'common', 'new' year. Now did I mention I hate adjectives? Oh it was adverbs. Well, adjectives are next on my hate-list. I can put up with things like 'beautiful' woman, or 'fast' car. But 'slutty/ hot', 'beautiful' woman, or 'cool', 'fast' car?  A car is just a car, a woman is just a woman... Aah well, ok, I will make exceptions, cuz after all not all beautiful women are hot, nor all hot women slutty. And I have nothing against cars, just that they are all fast compared to perambulation, but yeah, not all cars are cool.


Like I was saying, no resolutions. Just that I will post something on this blog. And drink more water. Less coffee. And no tonic. 


Find a new blog template. Consider leaving blogger for wordpress, maybe, something to categorize these musings. Or have both, what do I lose?


And write about the songs I love or hate, whenever I feel like, just cuz I feel like it. 


Well, someone told me yesterday
That when you throw your love away
You act as if you just don't care
You look as if you're going somewhere


Now I don't like this song, but the words, the words, this I like. Why? Don't know. We don't know why we like the stuff we like, but we sure can write a 100 words why we don't like something. And I don't want to get into explaining how our brains function when we listen to music, 'cuz I can't explain for one, and second, I don't care. Metacognition and all those fancy words may be considered cool (and is necessary)  when you're writing a thesis paper, but I don't think I'll graduate on the strength (or weakness) of this blog. I don't think I will graduate anyway, but this feeling will last until I graduate and that time shall come soon and this too shall pass.

Question for the day

Why does it seem as if my life is on playback, but I can't seem to deconstruct the pieces when I rewind and analyze? Reflection is overrated... and the more I indulge in it, seems like I miss large sections of the song. If life is a song that is. Is it?

What I have been learning

I've learnt that 'hi, how are you?' does not require an answer. That the definition of a bore is someone who tells you exactly how they are when asked. Then why ask in the first place I wonder. Frugality is not a strong point out here even in these hard times.

I've learnt that in this part of the world at this time of the year, a shining sun outside my window doesn't equate to wearing just a tee. Brrr.

I've learnt that I'm afraid of the dark.

I've learnt that North doesn't mean the sky and South the sewer. But I still manage to get lost. Oh well...

I've learnt that throwing snowballs at a 2 year old maybe considered abuse, especially if the guardian who wasn't doin a A-rate job at 'guarding' lacks a sense of humor. Thank god for... never mind. Don't blame me. The kid was there. The snow was there.

I've learnt that no matter how you change the variables in a relationship to make it work, there is always going to be collateral damage. Who cares about the dead ones anyway?

I've learnt that once you lose a gift, it doesn't come back to you. You pay a real steep price to get what was once free. Write and it drains your life. Stop writing and you have killed yourself anyway. Oh and by the way, my muse is a guy. And like most men, generally absent. But once in a while he comes along, I give in, and he gloats as I lie wordless.

On an upbeat note, I've learnt that my 30$ radio has a brain. Or rather, it has something that can read my mind. How the hell does it know to play Too Much Love Will Kill You just after that call you made to break someone to break you? (And where were you Brian May / radio when I was falling? You chose to play Alice Cooper then... what a poison...) Point is, the radio has a sadistic sense of humor. You make up your mind to be strong and pretend everything is just the way it's supposed to be, and U2 belts out 'with or without you.... and you give yourself away'.... what else can you do except howl in despair?

Ok, that wasn't so upbeat, but the point is I love my radio, and it loves me right back... now there it goes again... Comfortably Numb. See? Hear? I guess the radio deserves a separate blog post.

Oh, I've learnt that the only choices ever offered in life that is good no matter what you decide on are chocolates.

Breaking

Everybody knows this: people change. Things change. And you lose something in that change. Some things you gain (so they say, but don't ask me who the hell is 'they'). Anyway, in most cases, you are only cognizant of your losses. And these losses make you (again) lose focus, make you blind to the good around you, that maybe loss is a positive thing. Maybe there are no positives. 

When you were young, you listen to Pink Floyd. (I use 'listen', I know it is incorrect, just that in my head, I still listen to Floyd, thing is, the listening now is a lot different). Back to the past. You listen, discuss the lyrics, riffs, the million versions, the whole shebang. Your shelves (or your floor, in case you don't have space or shelves) are filled with:

1. Cassettes you've recorded from the radio (this being the late 80s and early 90s).
   
2. CDs (yes, you now have a job and the second thing you bought with your money is a Philips music system that plays both tapes and CDs *and parents think you are not careful with your money, sigh*... Oh the first thing you bought is a guitar, in case anyone is wondering).
   
3. Books on PF, album artwork, lyrics (aah, what a little more money can buy, especially if you live on coffee)
   
4. CDs with different versions of all the albums (no, this is not OCD, just Oh..CD).
   

Hell, you even cried when you heard Syd Barret 'died' on July 13 2006.

Then something happened. Somewhere along the line, something changed. You don't listen with the same obsession. True, now you have transfered all the music in your CD collection to your iPod... but it's on shuffle. If Hey You or Amused to Death plays as you walk down the street, great. You still get the lump in your throat but that is a basic reaction, you don't anymore seek out to get that feeling. You still know that if Coming Back to Life plays when you're in a bar, it is time to leave. (God help you if it never plays).


You have grown up. You don't spend days trying to get that new song, you have better things to do...or choose nothingness. You have forgotten what it means to love. To love something so much you can't comprehend how you would live in its absence. (We're still talking music and Floyd here). Growing up means you know that obsession of any kind will make life hell for you, and who among us would want our lives to be hell? Growing up means to be able to live despite this loss. But how do you live?


Change jobs, change cities, have different men, but move, move so fast that you can replace loss with something new. Growing up? Or breaking down? Maybe growing up is just being in control of the things that break down, so much better when you are breaking it. At least you know the cause of destruction and loss - it is you. Better to know who is responsible than having to wonder what the hell happened that caused you your loss. 


Does being grown up mean that you are now comfortable with the dying of things you love, or the killing of them?

Hoping

It is a terrible thing to have no hope. Or rather, to be aware that you have lost it. The despair that sinks in is so unbearable, the heaviness so tangible, you shrug to get rid of the feeling - but - it's hopeless. Hopeless. Hopeless - this is different from less hope. There should be a better word to describe an absence of hope. 


Irremediable? No, that means it can't be fixed or cured. Despondent? No, that is showing / feeling extreme dejection. Maybe we don't need another word. 


Hopeless:  despair and the cessation of effort or resistance and often implies acceptance or resignation (Merriam-Webster).


Hopeless = despair + resignation...leading someone to acts of desperation? I hope not.

Adverbs, seriously?

I hate adverbs. (fighting the urge to write 'passionately' at the end of that sentence). So I'm looking for a stronger word than 'hate'. Detest maybe. I detest adverbs. There. That feels better. Sometimes I wonder why people write such things  - it puts me in a rage, stuff like, 'She drank her vodka slowly'. Slowly? Can't you just say 'She sipped her vodka'? or something like that. People who use adverbs are either cowards or have a limited vocabulary, or both. 'He closed the door loudly, and walked away angrily'. Oh please, please spare me. Just say 'He slammed the door and stormed out'? Doesn't that make you feel... free, like it's off your chest?

Don't get me wrong, I too have sinned and fallen short of that perfect sentence minus the adverb. And when words fail me (which happens far too often), I resort to adding the 'ly' to convey an emotion I am not sure about. Maybe that's what gets my goat, that we hide behind adverbs to lessen, or to deal with what we feel. Not everyone is capable of handling the sudden onslaught of emotion. Cowards I think I said earlier, those who sin in this aspect. So there we have 'angrily' to convey rage, 'slowly' for procrastination or delay...oh I could go on. But I will refrain.

I don't know why I started this rant, must be something I read this morning. But I guess I should be open-minded enough to make an exception. So this, just this. The one adverb I can tolerate is 'seriously', but again, when it is used as a question and/or to convey sarcasm. Seriously? Seriously.

On (Not) Writing Poetry

poetry: writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm.


Rhythm, not rhyme, language to evoke an emotional response, not coffee cups or substances. sigh. I mustn't have been thinking. So much for that 'concentrated imaginative awareness'... it was all diluted oblivion. (Whatever that means).


and my fonts are all over the place. What the hell is happening??

27 Sep 2009

what i remember:

18 cupcakes (18)

balloons of kings cigs (23)

wuthering heights (25)

macdougal's alehouse (30)

and today alone.

always remember what died 

each time

you hoped.

always remember what happened

when you thought

the water was yours.

always remember 

your thirst

made others salt.

Shades of Memory - 1

sipping vodka and remembering

the chocolate milkshake 

that magically turned fresh bruises

back to mocha.

no more bruises

my blood is now watered.

Loneliness

Walking down a street that you've walked for the zillionth time, not taking it in, looking at everything but seeing nothing, hearing people talk and laugh but listening to silence, sitting alone at a bench in the middle of the divider, watching sparrows and squirrels, not thinking, thinking...

Listening to the same playlist on the iPod, trying to drown thoughts, but the same song keeps playing over and over again, and the same thoughts rise and fall with the music.

Looking at the phone time and again, trying to remember what the ringtone sounds like, wondering if it does ring,  what would your own voice sound like when you say hello? 

Buying things you don't need just so that the person on the other side says, 'cash back?' and you can get to hear yourself say 'no'.

Playing the guitar till your fingers bleed, or till you get sick of your incompetence, whichever happens first.

The lamest thing is to drop hints to someone you hope will understand, and then realize what a mistake that is... that you really don't have someone.

2AM

...and I'm still awake writing this song if i get it all down on paper its no longer inside of me threatening the life it belongs to

and i feel like im naked in front of the crowd cuz these words are my diary screamin out loud and i know that you'll use them however you want to

- Breathe, Anna Nallick

On (Not) Writing

1. Why can't I write?

Nothing can be said about what goes on in my head when I write... when I used to write... It is a kind of madness that breaks out without warning and possesses you and drains you of life word by word, and sometimes leaves you stranded mid-sentence, word, or comma,... what torture.

Writing takes a lot of nerve, to think that you have something worthwhile to say. To hope that you may be healed if only you use the right words. Write and be whole, write and be damned forever. For once written, you don't exist, only words do... at least the one sentence you have saved to be the noose around your neck... or fingers.

Why should I write? Because I must.

2. But why can't I write?

Stuck. It is some form of fear that eats from inside out. The disease starts in a brain clogged with duties  unfulfilled, that loan you'd have to pay in 7 years but have no idea how,  the assignment you don't see the point of doing anymore, the people you don't want to talk to but have to. You  don't  attend parties bcuz your dejection may seep through all the alcohol and substances you imbibe and people may notice, you attend parties bcuz people may also notice your withdrawal, so you restrict your public consumption to 3 drinks, and return to the stash in your apartment... 

Stuck. And yet the diseased brain recognizes the blank page, that thing which obsesses  you to fill it with words - only now, you are afflicted, you obsess that it will remain blank. 

3. Why can't I write?

To write well about something, you need to believe in it. Belief. And hope. In words. For the unbelievers and the hopeless. Words are for all those in need of it, to soothe, to scar, to burn, to love...So why is it that when you are in the depths of despair, you sit silent, so wordless in a corner? Is it cuz when dejection first started creeping in, you  hurt someone with words when all you were asking without asking was their help to survive before the darkness hit?

If there is nothing to believe in, if I believe in nothing, how can I write? How can you write about your dreams if you don't dream? And if all you have are your nightmares, should you write about it? For to write about your nightmares, your fears, is to bring them to life. 

And so the world was made from nothing - with a few well-said words.  

4. Why can't I write?

I don't have anything to say. But then one late night the radio plays U2, Bono belting out 'with or without you'...'and you give yourself away.....' and it all comes back to you in a flash - the nights you locked yourself in a small room with  only bottles of the cheapest vodka and cigarettes for company... writing. Writing because you couldn't sleep until the words were torn out of your daytime silences, writing bcuz it was a madness you used against the other madness that was always so close. 

You hear a song and like a recovered addict crave for the words...except now you have to try harder, longer and require more for the same high. You can't write because of the pain of self-induced silence, and the doubt that the other darkness may have swallowed your words forever.

5. Why can't I write?

Maybe I should. Write that is. Just the same stories that have all been told before. Maybe in the re-telling there may arise something new.

You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look
through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.

Song of Myself - Walt Whitman

Lost in Translation - Orhan Pamuk, Maureen Freely and Michael Scammell in Conversation

What a heady experience to listen to Orhan Pamuk's views on translation, the current state of translation work in the US, what is lost in translation, the challenges and everything else...

http://wwwapp.cc.columbia.edu/art/app/arts/writing/news.jsp?news=494

eeeeeeee - learning

We talk and talk of designing the perfect training material - one that is engaging, interactive, useful for learners, and so on and so forth. But that's all about it - just talk. Let's face it, any training we design is pointless, cuz universally - training is only training; in a regular organization where training is mandatory or where there's a specific policy that employees should undergo some form of training per year - it remains just that - some policy that is adhered to. (I hate this sentence - too long - 52 words!) Means there's no real motivation. None for the learners anyway. Strange thing is, we are wired to learn. Even against our will. By ‘learning’, I mean the stuff that we remember. Cuz the aim of most training/ learning/ education is to remember stuff so that we can apply that knowledge at a later date.

How do we remember irrelevant stuff, for example, that Hotel California was released in 1974, or that gravity was 'discovered' when some rotten apple fell on someone's head (and since that head happened to Newton's, we got to study that extra lesson in Physics - if it fell on some average IQd bloke, we might have just gotten a few more swear words in Websters). What earth-shattering difference would it make to me or to you that force = mass X acceleration? I don't believe that the principles of momentum, centre of gravity, acceleration has had any impact on the quality of Agassi's serve or Mohammed Ali's punch. But ok, this information does make a difference, or it gets stuck in my head if : a) I were a tennis player at the point of time when I was taught this fact. b) if this was taught to me while I was getting coached on my serve. c) if I wanted to show off this info trivia and wanted others to think 'Man, she knows stuff.' (Okay, I've gone too far). 

So, anyway, information gets stuck in the head and becomes learning only in the right context. Just like I could understand frequencies and octaves in my physics class since I was studying music. (It didn't make a difference in my playing, but yeah I did well in those physics tests without much effort) And that’s the point – passing exams and tests. How else would we get from here to there? And what motivates anyone to learn (other than getting thru tests)?

Everything that was ever made were made for the lazy (I believe that). We all would like to spend less effort but get the most out of it. In short, I'd learn something if I think it will help me get a raise, write mails faster, knock someone out, whatever. So what should be the aim of training material we instructional designers should create, that is the burning question. Here’s what most people (90%) think about learning/ training and the courses and exams that come with the package:

I hate training programs, I think it’s a waste of my time, but it’s something that's got to be done. A do or be damned kind of thing. (zilch motivation) – 70%

Well, guess if I attend this training session, I’ll get a certificate. So when I apply for my next job, I can negotiate my pay hike. (money) – 10%

I can frame this certificate on my bathroom wall. (ego) – 5%

I do this training; I’ll get promoted next quarter. (money, ego) – 5%

And what the rest 10% (?!) think:

I need to know this thing. (ego)

I need this training, then I can do my job better than the rest. (ego again, the money is immaterial, if it comes along with the package, great!)

So all motivation (for adult learners atleast) boils down to money and ego / self-esteem. But hey, 70% of your learners are really not bothered. Now how do we tackle this?

Since the majority are not interested in the training, and just want to get over with it, the challenge is how to design a program to (not necessarily in the given order):

1. get them interested
2. teach them exactly what it is they have to know in the shortest possible time
3. keep them interested

Getting people interested is easy. Keeping them interested is not. If you can achieve point 3, then point 2 can be ignored – your learners will want to be there hanging on to every word you say, even waiting with bated breath…ok that’s again goin a bit too far…but ok, you get it? Now for the work:

Note: All examples are a reflection of what I've seen at work in the elearning/content development industry. And just my opinions. This is my blog, for god's sake.

Getting ‘em interested

Most designers think ‘icebreaker activities’ – asking learners (and the instructor) to introduce themselves, present the agenda, housekeeping rules and so on. As an instructor, I don’t think I need to know the names of 10 people to be able to teach them, but I do need to get them interested in the training material I’m about to present. So what would I do to break the ice? Break ice? And drop it on someone’s foot. That sure will grab their attention, don’t you think?

Ok, but seriously.

Let’s take an example:
Subject: Sales Training
Audience/ Learners: Call centre guys (and gals), 20somethings

So how would you, as an instructor, get their attention?

Option 1: Instead of having a slide showing – How to Make a Successful Call, change the title to ‘You Had me at Hello’ and an audio clip of Kenney Chesney singing that…

Option 2: Show a movie clip of…lets say… Jerry Maguire… oh ‘you had me at hello’ again (maybe a clip of Tom Cruise trying to pitch for a client is more relevant – by the way, you, or rather Mr.Cruise, have gotten all the ladies' attention)

Option 3: Show 2 video clips – one of a chirpy Call Centre rep, and a disinterested one. (How boring, but I guess the organization would okay that strategy than options 1 and 2)

Option 4: Ask a colleague to give you a call and pretend to be the customer (Do this when the learners have just settled down). Respond to the call as if it were the real thing. Alternatively, respond to the call real rudely and ask the learners their opinion. This way, you get the agenda of your session.

Option 5: Just before the learners enter the classroom, write a controversial statement (related to the subject) on the board, for example: Customers suck so I can reply any way I want, it makes no difference… This way too you can ask the learners to create the agenda of the session.

Option 6: Why have PPTs and movie clips and all that jazz in the first place?? Can't you just talk? (alright, I'm ranting. Not everyone can talk interesting).

Ok. That’s enough of a start. Please note: All options work only if you are a good trainer/ instructor and can carry it off.

Teach them exactly what it is they have to know in the shortest possible time

Well, this is not for instructors who like the sound of their own voice. The problem with getting the learners attention with a wonderful start is that most instructors can’t sustain that interest. They just go on and on and on…rather like starting a song on a high note and then going flat cuz you can't keep the pitch or raise your octave level.

So keep it short. It helps if you are an expert and know exactly what they need. Like Atticus Finch said ‘Stand in a persons shoes and walk two miles in ‘em’…If you’ve been a student who’s been bored to death (and remember it), I guess you’ll be kind. (you better be, else you’d get huge yawns, or worse, never be asked to train again).

Keeping ‘em interested

Well, activity, activity, activity. But why? As a learner/ participant in an Instructor-Led session, I positively hate it when the trainer asks me a question. This is more like an easy way out – instructors think they keep a class awake by asking them questions.

The key is not to keep the learners awake by asking them to do something, but to involve their minds. Why not ask them to think, reflect (as Poirot would say, and get the grey cells working furiously)? Easier said than done? Maybe. All depends on you, the instructor. How can you convince them that what you’re teaching, or about to teach is the only thing they ought to be living for?

Take a few lessons from Mark Anthony (or Shakespeare if you will) – A paragraph of Friends, Romans, countrymen blah blah, and he caused a war. He got their minds working, he spurred them to action by telling them exactly the opposite – yeah, but Brutus is an honourable man, yeah sure. Take Iago, for example – he caused the Moor to murder - how? The art of effective sentence construction. By not telling everything, but just enough. The decision to kill or not to kill, to commit suicide or not to, was entirely up to Othello, not Iago’s fault.

So - get your learners to think, and make their own inferences. The golden rule is this: Do not provide all information to the learners. People learn more from searching for the correct answer and not finding it than from learning the answer itself. Think Iago. You just provide the seed crystal (whatever that means).

Let learning be a discovery, an experience for the learners. You as the instructor, is only a facilitator, not the storehouse or dispenser of knowledge.

In the end, the key to a successful training is – know when to shut up and make an exit. Fast.

The Haunting

these words should be free, unshackled, without form and rising out of a void like creation from chaos and a big bang. instead the visions arrange themselves around the language of pauses in commas semicolons and sighs. oft repeated. same words, same vision, same nightmare, same color.

the words inside are wilder than the strange winds that whirl around the unsuspecting soul caught in a pillar of lust impervious to everything but the sense of touch. Or the thought and vision of it.

these words surround you and hold you captive in their silence. for right now the only answer is to ignore these alphabet conjugations and forget what you see in the spaces and the shadows.

For what do you see but the words stifled by hauntings of hands that traced letters and secrets and drew patterns on your body? What do you see? Too many words you wrote on the other's skin, that now there can be no more?

shadow play behind closed eyes

What do you see when you close your eyes? Do you see what I see? And if you do, tell me - how do you sleep at night, if you sleep at all? And if you sleep, how do you keep yourself from gettin trapped in a nightmare, from screaming and waking up in fear?

This worries me - if you don't see what I see, then are the visions that keep you awake worse than the colors and the gray that torments me? Is it a longer shadow? A darker, colder fear? Then I am the weak one, for giving in to my lesser nightmare, for waking in a cold sweat from a more bearable fire.

And i am ashamed.

On Writing (and Not Writing)

scribble. why do i write? b'cuz its a visual form of speech? so are the blank pages a direct result of silence?

a place where the bridge doesn't burn...

...cuz there wasn't a bridge?

Just a river flowing by, running by, as if it desperately had someplace to go to, someone to meet. And the sound of the water as it hits the shoreline- 'wish-wash, wish-wash...' yeah, you wish and and you wish and then it gets washed away. All that remains is mud.

This place is quiet. I am alone - there's just the river, the wind and the sky. And the birds for company. Night approaches and brings along a gentle rain. No stars. Not a single star. And thoughts go dark...

There is the temptation to walk into the water, or to walk away and never return. Then I suddenly see a kingfisher and forget the thought. Temporarily. I toy with the idea - on and off. Every movement is a fight against it, for though the mind is dead and has given up, the body wants to survive. In moments like these, you realize they are separate entities...and you know if the body gets too tired to fight, then walkin into the river is...no longer an option, but an action already taken.

Darkness is here. And even if there were a bridge, I wouldn't have been able to see it. I still can't see it. So now I just will myself not to look for it, tell myself to forget looking for it for there is none. And try to just breathe...one breath at a time.

Stillborn

If words could kill a person, break down a life, can't it also define one, make it whole? For God is in the words; or is he in the spaces between the letters and the lines of text, holding it all together so we can make sense out of it? Then by tearing apart these words, do we break God into bits?

I try, I tear, I try again
and it doesn't make sense,
I tear it all apart
and then there is great silence.
But no peace. No peace.
So I save a sentence a word a syllable
in a sigh
and it tears apart something inside
giving birth to
stillborn screams.
Do I dare try again?

Why I asked you for an autumn leaf...

When I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die.
- The Bluest Eye, Toni Morrison

So would you then pick up that dying leaf and breathe life and color into its veins? For me?