A tad longer than a previous one that was really short, but I need the money. Brevity is not something you can cash on for too long.
I am currently out of office with random email access, which means I'm only reading random emails from random mailboxes and there are considerable chances of similarly random responses. If your email is important to at least one of us -if that one is me- you may text me, IM me or call me. If it's not that important to the one of us that is me, you may send me another email. I cannot evaluate its importance right now, so I leave that for you to judge because I trust you.
If this was about the $800M from your Nigerian uncle please come back with more details because it definitely sounds important, but only if you're serious about it. I have already had my heart and pockets broken a few times by other very rich people your uncle probably knew.
The normal email-answering schedule will resume on 5 Dec. Which means you won't get an automated response like this (yes, I like you but not that much to write it every time to remind you of when I'll be back in the office). Pretty much everything else remains the same in terms of randomness. Until then, I hope you can find some confort in the fact that I trust you and I like you.
In case you're interested, it is 5 Dec. precisely because my regional settings can indicate days in the calendar without the need for st, nd, rd or th appended to the number indicating the day of the month.
24 November, 2015
29 July, 2015
Day one
You've passed the interviews. All six of them. Even the ones you had no idea what they were about. You accepted the offer. You've made it. And now you can't wait to start.
Firstly, wait two weeks to one month.
[Two weeks to one month later...]
This is it. First day.
You don't know exactly where to park, where the entrance is, which button is the right buzzer, which floor to go to, but you don't get discouraged. Nothing can stop you now, nothing can cloud this brilliant day. You've made it. You're at the reception. Wow, she's pretty, she has lovely eyes. A bit bored, though, but still very focused. Important work, no doubt. You should focus, too. You're here for much more important things. You're here to build your future. You're here to meet whom? No, you work here. You're colleagues. A brief flicker of interest sparks in her lovely eyes. And... Back to bored. Who should pick you up? You don't know, you thought someone was waiting for you. No, you don't remember any name from the interviews, unfortunately. Bored turns to annoyed, all the effort put all morning in the Candy Crush tournament is going to waste now. Because of you. Finally, someone in your department is found that has vaguely heard about a new guy. A small detour to get a badge. A visitor badge for now, remember to give it back when yours is ready? In 3 to 5 weeks, most likely. Anyway, you and your temporary badge are being taken to your desk. And quickly abandoned there, you colleague has work to do. Look at it, your desk! It's brilliant. Your future starts here. Although it is a bit shallow at the moment. There should something be here, right?
Time to meet the local IT. You don't know it yet, but the brilliant day is about to be shadowed by a trip to the place of no sunshine. Time for NDAs, scorn, security, slight abuse, what you can and cannot do. Mostly what you cannot do. Be humble and be humbled for the gumption to expect a working computer and phone that doesn't weigh more than the computer.
[Two to four hours later...]
Victory! A bit crumpled, but victorious. You're all set. A shiny new phone, a not-so-shiny laptop. You're all set. The possibilities are limitless, everything's at your fingertips. Not right now, but right after you'll be granted access to the Internet, to the intranet, to the applications. And a SIM card. From now on the only way is up. The first day is really great. And now, it's lunch time. Alone today, because you don't know anybody.
[A lunch break later...]
If you think the visit to the IT department was the sole cloud on this otherwise perfect day, wait till you reach the bottomless tar pit that's about to come next. Yes, it's induction time. Time to get lost in the haunted office where a coven from HR is blighting all soul and life through tepid spells impregnated on meaningless documents more painful to read than ancient witchcraft guidebooks. If you think what you went through earlier was abuse, you're in for a surprise. A nasty, nasty surprise. 'Human resources' is not a department, it is prey. Their prey. Human is just a meaningless prefix indicating the type of resources they're after. For consumption. And what could be more delicious on their menu than a young innocent soul, another naive that comes with high hopes of growing and making a difference? Yes, you! Puny human.
Who knows, though, you might be lucky. If you catch them in a good mood it'll be over in less than 3 hours. And they may even act friendly to gain your trust and give you career advice from the Facebook games they've been playing earlier where you're told what's the perfect job for you in 10 years after you've answered to 3 questions and agreed to give your email address and all your personal details.
[Three hours later, if you're lucky]
Back to your desk. You're feeling a bit confused and there's an unpleasant sense of worry slowly creeping in. Alas, you chase it away, spending the rest of the day feeling eager for tomorrow and hopeful about the next 10 years.
[6 P.M.]
That's it, this was first day. You haven't done any actual work today and have no idea what you'll be doing tomorrow, but you have a good feeling about this.
Well... Give it some time. You've only been here a day.
Firstly, wait two weeks to one month.
[Two weeks to one month later...]
This is it. First day.
You don't know exactly where to park, where the entrance is, which button is the right buzzer, which floor to go to, but you don't get discouraged. Nothing can stop you now, nothing can cloud this brilliant day. You've made it. You're at the reception. Wow, she's pretty, she has lovely eyes. A bit bored, though, but still very focused. Important work, no doubt. You should focus, too. You're here for much more important things. You're here to build your future. You're here to meet whom? No, you work here. You're colleagues. A brief flicker of interest sparks in her lovely eyes. And... Back to bored. Who should pick you up? You don't know, you thought someone was waiting for you. No, you don't remember any name from the interviews, unfortunately. Bored turns to annoyed, all the effort put all morning in the Candy Crush tournament is going to waste now. Because of you. Finally, someone in your department is found that has vaguely heard about a new guy. A small detour to get a badge. A visitor badge for now, remember to give it back when yours is ready? In 3 to 5 weeks, most likely. Anyway, you and your temporary badge are being taken to your desk. And quickly abandoned there, you colleague has work to do. Look at it, your desk! It's brilliant. Your future starts here. Although it is a bit shallow at the moment. There should something be here, right?
Time to meet the local IT. You don't know it yet, but the brilliant day is about to be shadowed by a trip to the place of no sunshine. Time for NDAs, scorn, security, slight abuse, what you can and cannot do. Mostly what you cannot do. Be humble and be humbled for the gumption to expect a working computer and phone that doesn't weigh more than the computer.
[Two to four hours later...]
Victory! A bit crumpled, but victorious. You're all set. A shiny new phone, a not-so-shiny laptop. You're all set. The possibilities are limitless, everything's at your fingertips. Not right now, but right after you'll be granted access to the Internet, to the intranet, to the applications. And a SIM card. From now on the only way is up. The first day is really great. And now, it's lunch time. Alone today, because you don't know anybody.
[A lunch break later...]
If you think the visit to the IT department was the sole cloud on this otherwise perfect day, wait till you reach the bottomless tar pit that's about to come next. Yes, it's induction time. Time to get lost in the haunted office where a coven from HR is blighting all soul and life through tepid spells impregnated on meaningless documents more painful to read than ancient witchcraft guidebooks. If you think what you went through earlier was abuse, you're in for a surprise. A nasty, nasty surprise. 'Human resources' is not a department, it is prey. Their prey. Human is just a meaningless prefix indicating the type of resources they're after. For consumption. And what could be more delicious on their menu than a young innocent soul, another naive that comes with high hopes of growing and making a difference? Yes, you! Puny human.
Who knows, though, you might be lucky. If you catch them in a good mood it'll be over in less than 3 hours. And they may even act friendly to gain your trust and give you career advice from the Facebook games they've been playing earlier where you're told what's the perfect job for you in 10 years after you've answered to 3 questions and agreed to give your email address and all your personal details.
[Three hours later, if you're lucky]
Back to your desk. You're feeling a bit confused and there's an unpleasant sense of worry slowly creeping in. Alas, you chase it away, spending the rest of the day feeling eager for tomorrow and hopeful about the next 10 years.
[6 P.M.]
That's it, this was first day. You haven't done any actual work today and have no idea what you'll be doing tomorrow, but you have a good feeling about this.
Well... Give it some time. You've only been here a day.
26 July, 2015
Delicate flowers
I sometimes get lost in contemplation as my metaphorical sisters are vociferously expressing their disappointment with men not being considerate and respectful. It is impressive to see so much energy emerging from such small, sensitive and yet so powerful creatures. Sometimes the energy is pure rage, and for good reason; many men are just unable to fathom their beauty and delicacy and fail to appreciate it accordingly. If I had the talent (and budget) I'd like to make a movie to make people aware of their painful struggle. It would be my token of appreciation and empathy, my protest against this plague which taints our so-called "modern and evolved" society.
So far I have a title for it and a basic narrative. In order to gather more information about what women are looking for in a man, I went on Tinder. I thought of this little app to be a trove of sincere and unbiased openness, a channel where women can freely express what they want from a man, a lover, a potential partner to spend their entire lives with. Indeed, it was.
And what better starting point than the description in the profile? You're not one to judge a book by the pictures, are you?
Most of the profiles that have words in the description (more on this a bit later) are mentioning interest for relaxed conversations over a glass of wine, but intelligent and meaningful at the same time. Such descriptions are accompanied by pictures of ample décolletages and mashing bras in more or less provoking positions and tattoos depicting tribal symbols or deep philosophical quotes from Facebook. Often in Chinese characters, for emphasis.
There are some descriptions where the author was too busy to use words (yes, this is the later bit mentioned earlier). She opted for various sets of emoticons instead. Usually including a party hat, a glass of red wine, a smiling sun, a pair of lips, ice-cream, cigarette and smoke, 3 wiggly lines (probably waves, the phone set on vibrate or drunken cocaine lines), a cat's head and an umbrella tilted to 45º, which is not how you'd normally hold an umbrella.
Others -probably the more avid Shakespeare readers- take brevity to the next level of wit and have blank descriptions or brief statements such as "5.7 ft min." or "love 2 get p*ssed". An asterisk is proof that foul language does not belong in a well-educated woman's vocabulary.
And -to close the circle- there are some descriptions that contain painfully long stories about a child being afraid of the dark and a man being afraid of the light, an injured deer or cat finding shelter from the storm, a storm, the soul reflecting from a tree in a lake at midnight under the moon and above the clouds, the warmth of kindness, being present and/ or connected, a drop of water in the ocean, crossroads and so on. Usually combined.
I'm not one to generalize, every woman is unique -of course- but some common traits have emerged. The ideal man should be usually taller, considerate, without tattoos, well-mannered, educated, loyal, attentive and funny. No pictures without a t-shirt, please. They like Hawking and Chopra, Dawkins and Osho. And they're also quite religious. Some have pictures wearing a wedding dress. And at least one with a small cat or dog. Many think the eyes are the path to the soul, usually the ones wearing sunglasses the size of manholes. It's rather hard to strike the right balance. But the treasure awaiting those who go all the way is worth any effort. This is true. Some even remember to remind it to the potentially lucky ones. Just in case.
As an homage to Mr. Scorsese's masterpiece Raging bull, I'd name mine Raging cow.
So far I have a title for it and a basic narrative. In order to gather more information about what women are looking for in a man, I went on Tinder. I thought of this little app to be a trove of sincere and unbiased openness, a channel where women can freely express what they want from a man, a lover, a potential partner to spend their entire lives with. Indeed, it was.
And what better starting point than the description in the profile? You're not one to judge a book by the pictures, are you?
Most of the profiles that have words in the description (more on this a bit later) are mentioning interest for relaxed conversations over a glass of wine, but intelligent and meaningful at the same time. Such descriptions are accompanied by pictures of ample décolletages and mashing bras in more or less provoking positions and tattoos depicting tribal symbols or deep philosophical quotes from Facebook. Often in Chinese characters, for emphasis.
There are some descriptions where the author was too busy to use words (yes, this is the later bit mentioned earlier). She opted for various sets of emoticons instead. Usually including a party hat, a glass of red wine, a smiling sun, a pair of lips, ice-cream, cigarette and smoke, 3 wiggly lines (probably waves, the phone set on vibrate or drunken cocaine lines), a cat's head and an umbrella tilted to 45º, which is not how you'd normally hold an umbrella.
Others -probably the more avid Shakespeare readers- take brevity to the next level of wit and have blank descriptions or brief statements such as "5.7 ft min." or "love 2 get p*ssed". An asterisk is proof that foul language does not belong in a well-educated woman's vocabulary.
And -to close the circle- there are some descriptions that contain painfully long stories about a child being afraid of the dark and a man being afraid of the light, an injured deer or cat finding shelter from the storm, a storm, the soul reflecting from a tree in a lake at midnight under the moon and above the clouds, the warmth of kindness, being present and/ or connected, a drop of water in the ocean, crossroads and so on. Usually combined.
I'm not one to generalize, every woman is unique -of course- but some common traits have emerged. The ideal man should be usually taller, considerate, without tattoos, well-mannered, educated, loyal, attentive and funny. No pictures without a t-shirt, please. They like Hawking and Chopra, Dawkins and Osho. And they're also quite religious. Some have pictures wearing a wedding dress. And at least one with a small cat or dog. Many think the eyes are the path to the soul, usually the ones wearing sunglasses the size of manholes. It's rather hard to strike the right balance. But the treasure awaiting those who go all the way is worth any effort. This is true. Some even remember to remind it to the potentially lucky ones. Just in case.
As an homage to Mr. Scorsese's masterpiece Raging bull, I'd name mine Raging cow.
19 July, 2015
There's nothing quite as bright as the future.
Here's an interesting trend.
Robotic children are doing fine for about 6 to 8 years, but 20 minutes into the movie and they go hectic. This usually happens around the time when daddy's research loses funding. And mommy decides it's time for a midlife crisis and starts questioning love for the robotic child and her life in general. At the same time, daddy discovers the mysterious owner of the lab where he's building robotic children is also working on something that threatens to destroy the entire humanity and render it slave to either the robots or some obscure evil spirit that never gets mentioned in the movie after this. This helps daddy regain his focus and also clears mommy's doubts. The robotic child sacrifices his life to save humankind and mommy and daddy are left a bit sad but somehow optimistic about the future of mankind. Happy end, humanity is saved, bright future ahead.
This is a bit ironic for a couple of reasons: firstly, the robot doesn't really have a life to lose: a solid recharge and maybe a reboot and they're as good as new. And whatever they lose in the confrontation with the unknown evil mastermind (well, it's the guy that funds the lab) can be easily ordered from aliExpress. The only risk is lengthy delivery times; by the time they've been delivered some components would have caught rust already. Secondly, daddy and mommy still cannot have children.
This summary is relatively consistent with almost all the sci-fi movies and TV series I've watched in the past few years. A fortunate exception from this pattern is a short series about two magicians, but there's no robotic child in there at all. And pretty much everybody is going through some crisis, not only the leading female character. The only thing in common is the ridiculous socks the evil character is wearing.
For such a smart guy able to build humanoid robots, daddy miserably fails to realize he could follow a better path. Instead of going through this ordeal he could father the stunning secretary that has an obvious secret crush on him during her 3 or 4 cameos. Although potentially diluted a bit by potential-mommy's genes, his genius could still carry on. And current-mommy's outbursts would be perfect catalyst for this to happen. They would also render her as a much more desirable shield against and sacrifice for the turned-evil entrepreneur. Alas, it doesn't happen, because in this case it wouldn't be sci-fi, it would only be sci-.
While I’m still spending some amounts of time evaluating which superpower I’d like to have and how I’d use it towards financial freedom and ultimate comfort, I’m also trying to be a bit more realistic towards achieving that. And having a robotic child is one of these more realistic alternatives. Which means that on top of not killing a spider in the bathroom in the hope that it would come to the bedroom at night and bite me while I’m sleeping or not walking away from tall trees while it's raining because there's a better chance to be hit by lightning there, I'm also paying more attention to children behaving strangely on the street. To be honest, this hasn't worked out very well, all I've got so far is a couple of mildly itchy bites that hurt when you're scratching and a rather severe cold from soaking 20 minutes outside during a cold rain in late autumn. And panicked or hostile glances from annoyed grandmothers.
The future may be bright, but the present is disappointingly mundane and dull. Never give up on your dreams... Huh!
Robotic children are doing fine for about 6 to 8 years, but 20 minutes into the movie and they go hectic. This usually happens around the time when daddy's research loses funding. And mommy decides it's time for a midlife crisis and starts questioning love for the robotic child and her life in general. At the same time, daddy discovers the mysterious owner of the lab where he's building robotic children is also working on something that threatens to destroy the entire humanity and render it slave to either the robots or some obscure evil spirit that never gets mentioned in the movie after this. This helps daddy regain his focus and also clears mommy's doubts. The robotic child sacrifices his life to save humankind and mommy and daddy are left a bit sad but somehow optimistic about the future of mankind. Happy end, humanity is saved, bright future ahead.
This is a bit ironic for a couple of reasons: firstly, the robot doesn't really have a life to lose: a solid recharge and maybe a reboot and they're as good as new. And whatever they lose in the confrontation with the unknown evil mastermind (well, it's the guy that funds the lab) can be easily ordered from aliExpress. The only risk is lengthy delivery times; by the time they've been delivered some components would have caught rust already. Secondly, daddy and mommy still cannot have children.
This summary is relatively consistent with almost all the sci-fi movies and TV series I've watched in the past few years. A fortunate exception from this pattern is a short series about two magicians, but there's no robotic child in there at all. And pretty much everybody is going through some crisis, not only the leading female character. The only thing in common is the ridiculous socks the evil character is wearing.
For such a smart guy able to build humanoid robots, daddy miserably fails to realize he could follow a better path. Instead of going through this ordeal he could father the stunning secretary that has an obvious secret crush on him during her 3 or 4 cameos. Although potentially diluted a bit by potential-mommy's genes, his genius could still carry on. And current-mommy's outbursts would be perfect catalyst for this to happen. They would also render her as a much more desirable shield against and sacrifice for the turned-evil entrepreneur. Alas, it doesn't happen, because in this case it wouldn't be sci-fi, it would only be sci-.
While I’m still spending some amounts of time evaluating which superpower I’d like to have and how I’d use it towards financial freedom and ultimate comfort, I’m also trying to be a bit more realistic towards achieving that. And having a robotic child is one of these more realistic alternatives. Which means that on top of not killing a spider in the bathroom in the hope that it would come to the bedroom at night and bite me while I’m sleeping or not walking away from tall trees while it's raining because there's a better chance to be hit by lightning there, I'm also paying more attention to children behaving strangely on the street. To be honest, this hasn't worked out very well, all I've got so far is a couple of mildly itchy bites that hurt when you're scratching and a rather severe cold from soaking 20 minutes outside during a cold rain in late autumn. And panicked or hostile glances from annoyed grandmothers.
The future may be bright, but the present is disappointingly mundane and dull. Never give up on your dreams... Huh!
09 June, 2015
Dr. Housekeeping's adventures with leather
As the light starts to bend around the trashcan, I realize it's about time to stop trying to cram and actually take out the trash. The normal-sized garbage bag weighs about 635 kilograms before disposal, and now it's maybe 630 and a bit. I could probably squeeze a few more days, but the smell is getting tricky. Mango pits get a funky aroma after a couple of weeks in the bin. You really cannot trust anyone these days...
Here how it all started. If you have some fruit, lemon juice, an oven and a lot of time you can make fruit leather. I tried it with mango, and while the result was tasty, the work involved was not. Cutting fruit, washing the dishes and watching the oven closely for 11 hours is not a very adventurous story. Before you start to get bored, please accept my apologies. I'll move on.
It was a late, cold autumn. A truffle hog was going to the market in the big city to take care of some business. As he passed through the forest (there's always a forest), Hernandez -the wolf with learning difficulties- gave chase and ate him. Failing to see the financial potential of owning a truffle hog in the long run, the hungry wolf opted for the quick reward instead. Wild mammals are not as evolved as humans and hence not very good at exploiting other innocent creatures for their direct benefit. Trouble is, the hog was expected at the market. His cousin, Fred, was supposed to meet him. More importantly, Fred was supposed to pick up a package of expensive truffles from him. Even more importantly, Fred had strong connections in underground circles. If you think of it, truffles are a bit of an underground thing, too, like moles and buried treasures. However, Fred's connections are much more dangerous than that. And these dangerous connections set in motion to investigate what happened to the package and to Fred's cousin. They sent Foxy, the sniper fox. All this ballyhoo spelled trouble for Hernandez, but he was as bad at spelling as he was at exploiting and was blissfully unaware; happiness is a common trait among the ignorant. He was enjoying an extended siesta after a lovely grill sprinkled with grated truffles.
The smell of grill quickly led Foxy straight to the wolf's lair. Problem is, he was big and strong while she was not. And based on statistics, in confrontations between wolves and foxes the fox rarely wins. A plan was required. As she was struggling for one, Hernandez fell asleep.
He was suddenly woken up by Foxy's incredibly sensual voice, which -in addition to finding himself tied to the bed- made him think an already great day was getting even better. But Foxy had other plans. Ugly plans. And a bag of tools that spelled even more trouble. And no matter how bad he was at spelling, Hernandez realized this wasn't good. And before Foxy reached for the bag, he admitted to everything. At this point it was quite difficult to bring back Fred's cousin but on the plus side most of the truffles were still intact. And this was the most important part of Foxy's mission. Pigs are very human when it comes to prioritizing their own benefit against somebody else's life.
Still, you cannot steal from the baddies and get away untouched. Fred would look weak. And Fred doesn't want to look weak. And Foxy didn't want Fred to think she was weak. Hernandez had to be a dire example for anyone that would consider stealing from Fred in the future. And Foxy had to do the dirty work. She didn't like this. As a sniper, she was more partial remote killing than close encounter. But she had to do it. She reached for the ominously-looking bag and pulled out a... But maybe I'm boring you with this again. Sorry about that, I'll stop.
Here how it all started. If you have some fruit, lemon juice, an oven and a lot of time you can make fruit leather. I tried it with mango, and while the result was tasty, the work involved was not. Cutting fruit, washing the dishes and watching the oven closely for 11 hours is not a very adventurous story. Before you start to get bored, please accept my apologies. I'll move on.
It was a late, cold autumn. A truffle hog was going to the market in the big city to take care of some business. As he passed through the forest (there's always a forest), Hernandez -the wolf with learning difficulties- gave chase and ate him. Failing to see the financial potential of owning a truffle hog in the long run, the hungry wolf opted for the quick reward instead. Wild mammals are not as evolved as humans and hence not very good at exploiting other innocent creatures for their direct benefit. Trouble is, the hog was expected at the market. His cousin, Fred, was supposed to meet him. More importantly, Fred was supposed to pick up a package of expensive truffles from him. Even more importantly, Fred had strong connections in underground circles. If you think of it, truffles are a bit of an underground thing, too, like moles and buried treasures. However, Fred's connections are much more dangerous than that. And these dangerous connections set in motion to investigate what happened to the package and to Fred's cousin. They sent Foxy, the sniper fox. All this ballyhoo spelled trouble for Hernandez, but he was as bad at spelling as he was at exploiting and was blissfully unaware; happiness is a common trait among the ignorant. He was enjoying an extended siesta after a lovely grill sprinkled with grated truffles.
The smell of grill quickly led Foxy straight to the wolf's lair. Problem is, he was big and strong while she was not. And based on statistics, in confrontations between wolves and foxes the fox rarely wins. A plan was required. As she was struggling for one, Hernandez fell asleep.
He was suddenly woken up by Foxy's incredibly sensual voice, which -in addition to finding himself tied to the bed- made him think an already great day was getting even better. But Foxy had other plans. Ugly plans. And a bag of tools that spelled even more trouble. And no matter how bad he was at spelling, Hernandez realized this wasn't good. And before Foxy reached for the bag, he admitted to everything. At this point it was quite difficult to bring back Fred's cousin but on the plus side most of the truffles were still intact. And this was the most important part of Foxy's mission. Pigs are very human when it comes to prioritizing their own benefit against somebody else's life.
Still, you cannot steal from the baddies and get away untouched. Fred would look weak. And Fred doesn't want to look weak. And Foxy didn't want Fred to think she was weak. Hernandez had to be a dire example for anyone that would consider stealing from Fred in the future. And Foxy had to do the dirty work. She didn't like this. As a sniper, she was more partial remote killing than close encounter. But she had to do it. She reached for the ominously-looking bag and pulled out a... But maybe I'm boring you with this again. Sorry about that, I'll stop.
27 April, 2015
Grim
In good recent tradition, famous books are being milked even further with a movie. If the movie is successful, then a sequel follows, and then a prequel, and before you know it you've got a trilogy, a TV-series and possibly a video-game. Last year I managed to watch Lord of The Rings, an epic saga which span across many months (I'm referring here to the effort it took me to watch the entire movie). I haven't started Harry Potter yet, but in all fairness I watched some bits of the third movie at the cinema several years ago. Well, what I managed to watch was a series of boring interruptions to a productive 3-hours sleep, despite noisy kids and my enthusiastic friends. Well... true friends probably pick better movies and wait for Hermione to be of legal age before dragging you to watch her.
Anyway, this is about a more shady -and recent- book/movie combo. I first heard of "50 Shades of Gray" on Mock the Week. You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but sometimes it actually works. There are things you just know are vile, without checking. Sometimes common-sense and (others') experience tell you not to jump in the abyss to check its depth. For instance, the black plague, being bit by a mamba, or Dan Brown's "books". Also, you don't need to put your tongue on a 9-volt battery to know it's bad. Well, this is not the best example.
Anyway, I'm happy to report I haven't even seen the cover but I'm confident to call it dismal. And given its popularity, a movie was expected.
The movie follows the story of a young and naive student who meets a disturbed and handsome rich man. At first she's wary and hesitating, but strange feelings and unknown emotions are pushing her further. And the closer she gets, the more attracted she is. After a while he starts feeling it too, and a magic bond is getting them closer (in bondage). As things are getting more and more intense, a Colombian cartel kidnaps the rich man and take him hostage. While his parents are negotiating the ransom and the terms for the exchange, the naive student asks her step-mother for help. Her step-mother is a black witch with deep connections in the underground world*. The story escalates in a chase on the open sea in a ravaging storm. The kidnappers' ship is hit by a cannonball and the baddies sink. Unfortunately, the rich man sinks with them. More unfortunately, there are sharks in the water, and they are hungry. Even more unfortunately, it ends tragically in an intense scene where the young man gets rescued by the Coast Guard and two sequels for the movies are announced for 2017 and 2018. They are happily reunited, but trouble will undoubtedly arise as tragic excuses for the sequels and to whet the appetite of the people with lives so hollow that find this exciting. I have not seen the movie, of course, but I am confident it's very bad. The movie is worse than I described it, but without the sharks, the cartel and the sorcery bits. It's cheap and stupid enough to make it palatable to the impressionable people with no taste.
At this pace, bad movies will have more sequels than a porn movie. And the only similarity will be the plot's depth.
*Footnote: Some examples of the underground world include drugs, unappreciated artists, moles, hidden treasures and lava.
Anyway, this is about a more shady -and recent- book/movie combo. I first heard of "50 Shades of Gray" on Mock the Week. You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but sometimes it actually works. There are things you just know are vile, without checking. Sometimes common-sense and (others') experience tell you not to jump in the abyss to check its depth. For instance, the black plague, being bit by a mamba, or Dan Brown's "books". Also, you don't need to put your tongue on a 9-volt battery to know it's bad. Well, this is not the best example.
Anyway, I'm happy to report I haven't even seen the cover but I'm confident to call it dismal. And given its popularity, a movie was expected.
The movie follows the story of a young and naive student who meets a disturbed and handsome rich man. At first she's wary and hesitating, but strange feelings and unknown emotions are pushing her further. And the closer she gets, the more attracted she is. After a while he starts feeling it too, and a magic bond is getting them closer (in bondage). As things are getting more and more intense, a Colombian cartel kidnaps the rich man and take him hostage. While his parents are negotiating the ransom and the terms for the exchange, the naive student asks her step-mother for help. Her step-mother is a black witch with deep connections in the underground world*. The story escalates in a chase on the open sea in a ravaging storm. The kidnappers' ship is hit by a cannonball and the baddies sink. Unfortunately, the rich man sinks with them. More unfortunately, there are sharks in the water, and they are hungry. Even more unfortunately, it ends tragically in an intense scene where the young man gets rescued by the Coast Guard and two sequels for the movies are announced for 2017 and 2018. They are happily reunited, but trouble will undoubtedly arise as tragic excuses for the sequels and to whet the appetite of the people with lives so hollow that find this exciting. I have not seen the movie, of course, but I am confident it's very bad. The movie is worse than I described it, but without the sharks, the cartel and the sorcery bits. It's cheap and stupid enough to make it palatable to the impressionable people with no taste.
At this pace, bad movies will have more sequels than a porn movie. And the only similarity will be the plot's depth.
*Footnote: Some examples of the underground world include drugs, unappreciated artists, moles, hidden treasures and lava.
09 April, 2015
Smoke without fire?
On various occasions rock-n-roll singers have questioned the wild horses' ability to drag them away (and the answers vary, depending on whom you listen to). However, back in the old days horses were used to pull heavy sleighs through thick snow. It's unlikely skinny singers would be too much challenge. However, they could have a hard time pushing them. Unless we're talking about drugs.
But we're not. We're talking about sleighing in the Russian countryside. The grand nobleman is smoking big cigars and enjoying the crisp freezing air while the Baroness snugged in fur seems to not enjoy very much the company of her husband. She's secretly thinking about enjoying the coachman later during the night, when the nobleman is out for a game of cards at the neighboring castle, wasting away her inherited fortune; alas, life is really dull in the countryside during winter. Meanwhile, the coachman is shivering at the front struggling to handle the horses and enjoys neither of his passengers. He doesn't have a warm coat nor a cigar. The only things keeping him from freezing are handling the harnesses and the seldom warm air coming from the horses. He knows he'd have to go out again at night to take the nobleman to his game, when it's even colder. And he knows afterwards he may have to go... inside -again- which on second thought is considerably less bad than the merciless frost.
Even more at the front of the convoy there are the horses for whom the ride is a pointless stroll while carrying along useless weight. They are completely oblivious of the triangle of plots and deceit going through the heads of the people they're carrying. If anything, they're slightly bemused by the peasant trying to tell them where to go; they know the road better anyway. Should they get lost in the wood, they'd be home well before the coachman and passengers froze to death on the road.
They have more important things on their mind. Matvey, the horse on the left, is suspecting that Kostya -the horse on the right- has found its stash of cigarettes hidden in the barn (on the beam above the hay stack) and it's skimming it. It can't put his hoof on it, but last time there were ten cigarettes missing. Horses aren't very good with numbers, though, and it's not polite to make accusations without solid evidence. In the meantime, Kostya is wondering whether Matvey suspects anything. Luckily in winter time you cannot really tell from distance the difference between cigarette smoke or steam you're exhaling in the cold air. But still, it's been six cigarettes in ten days only this week. Horses are not very good with numbers, indeed.
Back in the sleigh, the nobleman's mind is now working frantically. He's suspecting the baroness is having an affair with Egor, the coachman. He's considering coming back earlier from the card game to catch her in the act. But the road is difficult at night, and who's going to drive the sleigh? He cannot keep Egor with him to bring him back, the whole plan would fall apart. And even if he makes it home on his own, and he does catch her, then what? Scandal, gossip, humiliation. And ruin. Everything is hers: the money, the land, the castle and the land (Nadzieja, the baroness, has land in two places). He'd lose everything. A thick puff of smoke from his expensive cigar brings him back from his thoughts. He wouldn't even afford the expensive cigars he enjoys so much.
Nadzieja, near him, can't stand them. They are one pestering vice in the long list of vices her husband is a slave to. All day long they make her cough, and smell badly. On the other hand, she has vices that smell badly, too. Egor, for instance.
And all this time Egor, the centerpiece of all this drama, is blissfully oblivious to everything around him. His only qualm is the cold. And still, it's not that bad. It will be even colder at night on the way to the nobleman's card game. But it will be nice and warm when he gets back. Ah, if he could only get a cigarette. Would there be any left on the beam above the hay stack in the barn?
This twisted yarn would quickly unravel if they all knew what Fedor knew. Fedor is a little white horse. It's not here now. It's at the castle, waiting in the stable for Matvey and Kostya to return. The day is long without them. One day when it was alone, Fedor borrowed a GoPro Hero camera from a rabbit from another dream. While playing in the forest behind the castle, the camera caught Nadzieja and Egor together. The video is blurry and shaky, as horses' hooves are not naturally developed for handling action cameras. But Nadzieja and Egor were shaky, too, and there is enough evidence on the camera. Fedor hid it in the manger, which seems to be a better choice than the beam above the hay stack in the barn. Someday, it may use it. Maybe when it runs out of cigarettes.
Matvey, Kostya and even little Fedor would have no problem dragging Mick Jagger or Garth Brooks.
But we're not. We're talking about sleighing in the Russian countryside. The grand nobleman is smoking big cigars and enjoying the crisp freezing air while the Baroness snugged in fur seems to not enjoy very much the company of her husband. She's secretly thinking about enjoying the coachman later during the night, when the nobleman is out for a game of cards at the neighboring castle, wasting away her inherited fortune; alas, life is really dull in the countryside during winter. Meanwhile, the coachman is shivering at the front struggling to handle the horses and enjoys neither of his passengers. He doesn't have a warm coat nor a cigar. The only things keeping him from freezing are handling the harnesses and the seldom warm air coming from the horses. He knows he'd have to go out again at night to take the nobleman to his game, when it's even colder. And he knows afterwards he may have to go... inside -again- which on second thought is considerably less bad than the merciless frost.
Even more at the front of the convoy there are the horses for whom the ride is a pointless stroll while carrying along useless weight. They are completely oblivious of the triangle of plots and deceit going through the heads of the people they're carrying. If anything, they're slightly bemused by the peasant trying to tell them where to go; they know the road better anyway. Should they get lost in the wood, they'd be home well before the coachman and passengers froze to death on the road.
They have more important things on their mind. Matvey, the horse on the left, is suspecting that Kostya -the horse on the right- has found its stash of cigarettes hidden in the barn (on the beam above the hay stack) and it's skimming it. It can't put his hoof on it, but last time there were ten cigarettes missing. Horses aren't very good with numbers, though, and it's not polite to make accusations without solid evidence. In the meantime, Kostya is wondering whether Matvey suspects anything. Luckily in winter time you cannot really tell from distance the difference between cigarette smoke or steam you're exhaling in the cold air. But still, it's been six cigarettes in ten days only this week. Horses are not very good with numbers, indeed.
Back in the sleigh, the nobleman's mind is now working frantically. He's suspecting the baroness is having an affair with Egor, the coachman. He's considering coming back earlier from the card game to catch her in the act. But the road is difficult at night, and who's going to drive the sleigh? He cannot keep Egor with him to bring him back, the whole plan would fall apart. And even if he makes it home on his own, and he does catch her, then what? Scandal, gossip, humiliation. And ruin. Everything is hers: the money, the land, the castle and the land (Nadzieja, the baroness, has land in two places). He'd lose everything. A thick puff of smoke from his expensive cigar brings him back from his thoughts. He wouldn't even afford the expensive cigars he enjoys so much.
Nadzieja, near him, can't stand them. They are one pestering vice in the long list of vices her husband is a slave to. All day long they make her cough, and smell badly. On the other hand, she has vices that smell badly, too. Egor, for instance.
And all this time Egor, the centerpiece of all this drama, is blissfully oblivious to everything around him. His only qualm is the cold. And still, it's not that bad. It will be even colder at night on the way to the nobleman's card game. But it will be nice and warm when he gets back. Ah, if he could only get a cigarette. Would there be any left on the beam above the hay stack in the barn?
This twisted yarn would quickly unravel if they all knew what Fedor knew. Fedor is a little white horse. It's not here now. It's at the castle, waiting in the stable for Matvey and Kostya to return. The day is long without them. One day when it was alone, Fedor borrowed a GoPro Hero camera from a rabbit from another dream. While playing in the forest behind the castle, the camera caught Nadzieja and Egor together. The video is blurry and shaky, as horses' hooves are not naturally developed for handling action cameras. But Nadzieja and Egor were shaky, too, and there is enough evidence on the camera. Fedor hid it in the manger, which seems to be a better choice than the beam above the hay stack in the barn. Someday, it may use it. Maybe when it runs out of cigarettes.
Matvey, Kostya and even little Fedor would have no problem dragging Mick Jagger or Garth Brooks.
04 April, 2015
Are you allowed to use Ebola to win at Scrabble?
There are jobs where thinking outside the box is really important. For instance, being a delivery guy, operating a forklift or digging graves. Some people in PR and advertising like to think of themselves they're outside-the-box-thinking professionals, too. Thanks to them we get ads for detergents that are not like other detergents, just like every other insurance and razor. And coughing pills which go directly to the pain following a map well traced on the human body.
A while ago I got a cold. Just like tasks at work, I didn't mind it, waiting for it to go away by itself after a while. But just like some tasks at work, some won't have the decency to vanish if you ignore them for long enough. Coughing didn't really bother me, but it didn't let me sleep at night (and at the office) and comfort is something I do care about. After three days I made some tea, but it didn't help much. It was time for action. Luckily, I happened to find some coughing pills in the fridge door, so no time for action yet. The pills had been sitting there for about seven or eight years, most likely someone I shared the place with back then had bought them just in case. Now it was the case.
[...]
An irritated woman standing near me in the pharmacy started bitching that she didn't want to get sick from me as I was buying anti-coughing pills. So I did the honorable thing and turned to talk to her and calm her down. Somehow it didn't seem to help, she started yelling even louder her she didn't like a sick person near her. There's no pleasing some people. In the end I told her I didn't particularly like her tone and idiotic complaints either. Surprisingly, that did shut her up. I left with the pills, pleasantly surprised of my skills at interacting with other women. On the way out I asked if they had any syrup for Ebola. Ebola is quite catchy, like an annoying song. Truth be told, that woman was quite catchy, too. Catchy like an annoying song. Good manners cost nothing. And not wasting them on adequate occasions is rather rewarding.
In the end the disease went away. I am dead now. It would have been convenient if hell had existed, it's supposed to be hot in there. This could help when you've got a cold. The last thing you'd want to get is a cloud in heaven. It's drafty and there's no proper thermal insulation. Not even walls. And the music as bad as in elevators.
I still have some pills left, if anyone's interested. Hurry up, though, they'll be useless in less than 8 years. Well, they're pretty useless now, too. But they're sweet and can be a decent replacement for mints if you forgot yours at home. Fresh breath is important. Which is why picking the right tooth paste is so crucial, if you believe thoseprofessional people in the advertising industry (sorry about the coughing, but the pills were not as effective as the ad said they would be). Which closes the narrative circle. Good night.
[...]
Actually, not yet, there's a tangent to the circle. There are also some eggs that have been sharing the fridge door space with the previous cough pills for about one year. I am not sure about the expiration date, it has worn off. I tried a couple of them, and they seemed to be ok. I still have 8 or 9 more. They're ideal to take on a trip to hell; plenty of places to fry them there. Or I could use them in a gift basket, with the new coughing pills and a barely opened bottle of hot sauce and 2 unopened bottles, one with vanilla extract the other with ginger extract. Is your birthday coming soon?
A while ago I got a cold. Just like tasks at work, I didn't mind it, waiting for it to go away by itself after a while. But just like some tasks at work, some won't have the decency to vanish if you ignore them for long enough. Coughing didn't really bother me, but it didn't let me sleep at night (and at the office) and comfort is something I do care about. After three days I made some tea, but it didn't help much. It was time for action. Luckily, I happened to find some coughing pills in the fridge door, so no time for action yet. The pills had been sitting there for about seven or eight years, most likely someone I shared the place with back then had bought them just in case. Now it was the case.
[...]
An irritated woman standing near me in the pharmacy started bitching that she didn't want to get sick from me as I was buying anti-coughing pills. So I did the honorable thing and turned to talk to her and calm her down. Somehow it didn't seem to help, she started yelling even louder her she didn't like a sick person near her. There's no pleasing some people. In the end I told her I didn't particularly like her tone and idiotic complaints either. Surprisingly, that did shut her up. I left with the pills, pleasantly surprised of my skills at interacting with other women. On the way out I asked if they had any syrup for Ebola. Ebola is quite catchy, like an annoying song. Truth be told, that woman was quite catchy, too. Catchy like an annoying song. Good manners cost nothing. And not wasting them on adequate occasions is rather rewarding.
In the end the disease went away. I am dead now. It would have been convenient if hell had existed, it's supposed to be hot in there. This could help when you've got a cold. The last thing you'd want to get is a cloud in heaven. It's drafty and there's no proper thermal insulation. Not even walls. And the music as bad as in elevators.
I still have some pills left, if anyone's interested. Hurry up, though, they'll be useless in less than 8 years. Well, they're pretty useless now, too. But they're sweet and can be a decent replacement for mints if you forgot yours at home. Fresh breath is important. Which is why picking the right tooth paste is so crucial, if you believe those
[...]
Actually, not yet, there's a tangent to the circle. There are also some eggs that have been sharing the fridge door space with the previous cough pills for about one year. I am not sure about the expiration date, it has worn off. I tried a couple of them, and they seemed to be ok. I still have 8 or 9 more. They're ideal to take on a trip to hell; plenty of places to fry them there. Or I could use them in a gift basket, with the new coughing pills and a barely opened bottle of hot sauce and 2 unopened bottles, one with vanilla extract the other with ginger extract. Is your birthday coming soon?
23 March, 2015
Little rabbits
I rarely share personal experiences here. And I won't share one today, either. This is a story happening in the woods. It is about a little rabbit.
There was a little rabbit living in the woods. There are probably more than one, but the story is about a particular one, with short ears and white fur with grey spots. As inspiration hit a minor roadblock at this point, a wicked fox found quickly found out and now the little rabbit is no longer living there. Or anywhere.
Maybe it is time for a personal story.
There are things that can change your life in the course of a second. It's a strange feeling, one you'll never forget. Well, never assuming you live forever. And you manage to avoid Alzheimer or amnesia. Or your life is, indeed, so dull that this is so memorable for such a long time that it seems like forever -although strictly speaking it's not forever.
We met one evening, at some dancing gathering. It was quite late in the winter, it was cold and snowing outside but cozy inside. And it got even warmer and nicer when our eyes met across the room. There was something familiar in that look... And suddenly I remembered when we had met for the first time.
It happened somewhere in the mountains, two years before that dancing evening. There was no snow then, it was autumn and still warm and everything was green. I was walking on a secluded path enjoying the absence of other people when I noticed this cute little rabbit in a clearing. Usually they're shy and vanish quickly at the sight of people. But this time it stayed. It was curious and confused, and kept looking at me. It was in the middle of this precious moment when we first met. It was all sudden and quick, and it ended as quickly as it started. But it's an experience I'll never forget (see explanation above).
I thought I'd never see that fox again (I was talking about a fox, what were you thinking?). Especially at a dancing gathering during winter, among so many people. Foxes don't enjoy the company of people and during winter they fly south or somewhere warm (or drive, depending on their budget).
Sometimes I see that little rabbit in my dreams. It stays there and keeps looking at me. There is no blame in his eyes, it's only curiosity and confusion. If I tell people about the dream they say this is guilt for the death of an innocent being. But this little rabbit in my dreams is different; it's black with brown spots and has a white ear. And its ears are slightly longer. And people who claim they can interpret dreams are frauds, I never trusted them. After they give me their opinion I tell them in the dream the fox is chasing me, not the rabbit. And the little rabbit just stays there, watching us. Eating a proverbial carrot and recording everything with a Hero GoPro4 Black Edition. It's charming how it's struggling to handle the controls with its little paws. And it's surprising what I'm paying attention to while being chased by a fox. I don't trust foxes; they're worse than people who say they can interpret dreams. And one tried to sell me fake currency when I was visiting a foreign country.
Most of the time, though, I have dreams about being in school. I am never prepared for whatever homework I'm supposed to present and worry I would fail and have to study for the summer. Then I wake up relieved when I remember school has been out for many years. An ugly dream is a good way to start a beautiful day.
I guess it was a personal story after all. Or maybe it wasn't. Except for the part about the dragon allergic to unicorns and sandalwood. That was true.
Listening to Clint Mansell music when I'm making up true stories is complicated.
There was a little rabbit living in the woods. There are probably more than one, but the story is about a particular one, with short ears and white fur with grey spots. As inspiration hit a minor roadblock at this point, a wicked fox found quickly found out and now the little rabbit is no longer living there. Or anywhere.
Maybe it is time for a personal story.
There are things that can change your life in the course of a second. It's a strange feeling, one you'll never forget. Well, never assuming you live forever. And you manage to avoid Alzheimer or amnesia. Or your life is, indeed, so dull that this is so memorable for such a long time that it seems like forever -although strictly speaking it's not forever.
We met one evening, at some dancing gathering. It was quite late in the winter, it was cold and snowing outside but cozy inside. And it got even warmer and nicer when our eyes met across the room. There was something familiar in that look... And suddenly I remembered when we had met for the first time.
It happened somewhere in the mountains, two years before that dancing evening. There was no snow then, it was autumn and still warm and everything was green. I was walking on a secluded path enjoying the absence of other people when I noticed this cute little rabbit in a clearing. Usually they're shy and vanish quickly at the sight of people. But this time it stayed. It was curious and confused, and kept looking at me. It was in the middle of this precious moment when we first met. It was all sudden and quick, and it ended as quickly as it started. But it's an experience I'll never forget (see explanation above).
I thought I'd never see that fox again (I was talking about a fox, what were you thinking?). Especially at a dancing gathering during winter, among so many people. Foxes don't enjoy the company of people and during winter they fly south or somewhere warm (or drive, depending on their budget).
Sometimes I see that little rabbit in my dreams. It stays there and keeps looking at me. There is no blame in his eyes, it's only curiosity and confusion. If I tell people about the dream they say this is guilt for the death of an innocent being. But this little rabbit in my dreams is different; it's black with brown spots and has a white ear. And its ears are slightly longer. And people who claim they can interpret dreams are frauds, I never trusted them. After they give me their opinion I tell them in the dream the fox is chasing me, not the rabbit. And the little rabbit just stays there, watching us. Eating a proverbial carrot and recording everything with a Hero GoPro4 Black Edition. It's charming how it's struggling to handle the controls with its little paws. And it's surprising what I'm paying attention to while being chased by a fox. I don't trust foxes; they're worse than people who say they can interpret dreams. And one tried to sell me fake currency when I was visiting a foreign country.
Most of the time, though, I have dreams about being in school. I am never prepared for whatever homework I'm supposed to present and worry I would fail and have to study for the summer. Then I wake up relieved when I remember school has been out for many years. An ugly dream is a good way to start a beautiful day.
I guess it was a personal story after all. Or maybe it wasn't. Except for the part about the dragon allergic to unicorns and sandalwood. That was true.
Listening to Clint Mansell music when I'm making up true stories is complicated.
19 March, 2015
50 shades of Genghis
Of all the hilarious self-help 'literature' out there on the internet -the sort of drivel people share on Facebook as wisdom and on LinkedIn as career boosters- a recurring theme is how to handle conflicts in the workplace. From breathing techniques, asking key questions and triggering non-combative emotions, deflecting and maintaining a positive attitude, the list is comprehensive and will sound convincing to the weak mind. However, any person with enough common-sense and a healthy dose of paranoia will quickly spot obvious, glaring flaws. Or, to use the same elevated language, there is reasonable room for improvement.
Here are some of the holes in the conflict-tackling fabric.
Positive attitude.
Be open and friendly, they say, never be aggressive. A friendly face will disarm most people, it will make them question their bellicose intentions and have second thoughts about whatever was making them upset. And a warm, friendly voice will seal the deal in no-time.
Well, it's true; people tend to imitate, it's herd behavior.
What's also true is that an evil grimace works even better. And replace the friendly voice a hoarse whisper while you're playing with a blunt object and they won't even reach your desk/ cubicle. Or, if you want to play the friendly-voice card (or there are witnesses), there's always sarcasm.
Be prepared.
One of the most recommended techniques is to be "prepared" for conflict; avoid and dissipate it before things get out of hand. From Sun Tzu to Zack de la Rocha, it's common knowledge you should know your enemy. This is supposed to be easier if it's your manager or a colleague, or someone you work/ interact with on a regular basis. In time, you can and should look for patterns in their behavior and -once identified- divert and avoid the conflict before it even starts. Or something.
What surprises me is the lack of coverage for basic things that allow you to be prepared for the next conflict. For instance, finding out where they park their car and where they live. Or what park they take their pet or children to, their favorite restaurants and places, and so on. Nothing distracts a conflict-seeking person from starting a conflict more quickly than letting them know you do possess this sort of information. Needless to say (and this is exactly why I need to say it), discretion is of utmost importance. No witnesses, no emails, no texts. As HR strongly encourages, there's nothing better than face-to-face conversation. The appropriate emotions may be conveyed better like this. And there are no traces.
Divert.
Diversion takes people by surprise. Otherwise, it's not really diversion, is it? There's not a recipe for diversion, anything that disrupts will do. For instance, when lambasted why you don't take part the all-hands conferences or why you don't use the corporate-recommended signature in your emails, you may divert with "Should get a tea now or go out for a cigarette?" or "I wonder from what distance I could take someone's eye out with this letter opener." A very easy technique is to just leave, ideally before they're done talking. Who knows, maybe it is time for tea. If they're still there when you're back, maybe it's time for a smoke, too. Or to go home. For extra oomph, leave home without letting them know. Chances are they won't like it (unquestionably, you will like it), but on the other hand you give them plenty of time to cool off.
Be proactive.
Undo the wrong before they notice. Or apologize in advance if you think you're at fault. Try to minimize the damage. Fix it. Etc.
Well, this may work but it means you have to do some work, too. Which defeats the purpose. However, you may "compromise" and be proactive without doing too much: blame it on somebody else; find an alibi; start complaining about something before they get to; take a few sick days.
Other ways.
Well, the list is long. Longer than my attention span, anyway. So there you have it. Master a few of the above and you're golden.
And remember, sometimes conflicts can be immense fun. Mostly when you're winning, or when you know they've got nothing against you. Or when you've already handed in your leave notice.
Here are some of the holes in the conflict-tackling fabric.
Positive attitude.
Be open and friendly, they say, never be aggressive. A friendly face will disarm most people, it will make them question their bellicose intentions and have second thoughts about whatever was making them upset. And a warm, friendly voice will seal the deal in no-time.
Well, it's true; people tend to imitate, it's herd behavior.
What's also true is that an evil grimace works even better. And replace the friendly voice a hoarse whisper while you're playing with a blunt object and they won't even reach your desk/ cubicle. Or, if you want to play the friendly-voice card (or there are witnesses), there's always sarcasm.
Be prepared.
One of the most recommended techniques is to be "prepared" for conflict; avoid and dissipate it before things get out of hand. From Sun Tzu to Zack de la Rocha, it's common knowledge you should know your enemy. This is supposed to be easier if it's your manager or a colleague, or someone you work/ interact with on a regular basis. In time, you can and should look for patterns in their behavior and -once identified- divert and avoid the conflict before it even starts. Or something.
What surprises me is the lack of coverage for basic things that allow you to be prepared for the next conflict. For instance, finding out where they park their car and where they live. Or what park they take their pet or children to, their favorite restaurants and places, and so on. Nothing distracts a conflict-seeking person from starting a conflict more quickly than letting them know you do possess this sort of information. Needless to say (and this is exactly why I need to say it), discretion is of utmost importance. No witnesses, no emails, no texts. As HR strongly encourages, there's nothing better than face-to-face conversation. The appropriate emotions may be conveyed better like this. And there are no traces.
Divert.
Diversion takes people by surprise. Otherwise, it's not really diversion, is it? There's not a recipe for diversion, anything that disrupts will do. For instance, when lambasted why you don't take part the all-hands conferences or why you don't use the corporate-recommended signature in your emails, you may divert with "Should get a tea now or go out for a cigarette?" or "I wonder from what distance I could take someone's eye out with this letter opener." A very easy technique is to just leave, ideally before they're done talking. Who knows, maybe it is time for tea. If they're still there when you're back, maybe it's time for a smoke, too. Or to go home. For extra oomph, leave home without letting them know. Chances are they won't like it (unquestionably, you will like it), but on the other hand you give them plenty of time to cool off.
Be proactive.
Undo the wrong before they notice. Or apologize in advance if you think you're at fault. Try to minimize the damage. Fix it. Etc.
Well, this may work but it means you have to do some work, too. Which defeats the purpose. However, you may "compromise" and be proactive without doing too much: blame it on somebody else; find an alibi; start complaining about something before they get to; take a few sick days.
Other ways.
Well, the list is long. Longer than my attention span, anyway. So there you have it. Master a few of the above and you're golden.
And remember, sometimes conflicts can be immense fun. Mostly when you're winning, or when you know they've got nothing against you. Or when you've already handed in your leave notice.
16 March, 2015
Office Office
Based on almost scientific observations in several corporate zoos, a quick way to evaluate your position and importance in the office is... Office. Here's how.
As a keen new monkey in the open-space cage, you start working with Excel. You'll spend most of your time in there, doing actual work. Day in and day out -and often even during evenings and weekends- data input, processing and interpretation are your friends. Well, not your friends, but your cell-mates.
After a while, if you're a good monkey, you start climbing the corporate ladder and become more important. It's at this point that you'll be switching to Word. Excel is already too difficult and complicated to understand by the new monkeys you're rubbing elbows with now. You're still sharing a cage with them, but there's fewer of you in it, too.
Further on, as you climb even higher, you'll gently transition to PowerPoint. As the air at the top gets rarer and the bananas get sweeter, it's Word's turn to become obsolete, uncomfortable and complicated. PowerPoints are faster, shinier, shorter and lighter in content. These are your friends now. They check the tick-boxes your equally busy new colleagues enjoy. And if you're good enough, they'll assign you your own cage. With your name written on the door.
Sometimes, Project is sidetracking PowerPoint, but this is a niche more granular than I'm willing to delve and hence I'll skip it. Getting lost in details is a time-consuming mistake I generally like to avoid because there are more pleasant ways to waste time.
If you've been an even better monkey all this time and can make it even further, the next step is, well... is actually an ugly little tool you've had with you all this time. Oh yes, even before Excel. It was there since day one. It was the bearer of tasks. And bad news. And more tasks.
Yes, it's Outlook.
Once your worst enemy, it is now your best friend. Your only friend. It's the only thing you'll ever need to do your work. The circle is now complete, everything else in between is gone now: work, reports, presentations, colleagues, friends in the open-space, knowledge, skills. It's lonely at the top, sure, but it's also very comfy. Your corner cage is bigger, with bigger windows. Your new couch is softer. Your ass is both bigger and softer. Your secretary is pretty soft, too. And at the end of each year you get a new shiny toy.
Of course, if you're competent enough the trajectory will not be so smooth and your only circle will be the hamster-wheel of Excel and endless work. And mail. And hope that maybe one day downsizing will save you. There's always hope.
As a keen new monkey in the open-space cage, you start working with Excel. You'll spend most of your time in there, doing actual work. Day in and day out -and often even during evenings and weekends- data input, processing and interpretation are your friends. Well, not your friends, but your cell-mates.
After a while, if you're a good monkey, you start climbing the corporate ladder and become more important. It's at this point that you'll be switching to Word. Excel is already too difficult and complicated to understand by the new monkeys you're rubbing elbows with now. You're still sharing a cage with them, but there's fewer of you in it, too.
Further on, as you climb even higher, you'll gently transition to PowerPoint. As the air at the top gets rarer and the bananas get sweeter, it's Word's turn to become obsolete, uncomfortable and complicated. PowerPoints are faster, shinier, shorter and lighter in content. These are your friends now. They check the tick-boxes your equally busy new colleagues enjoy. And if you're good enough, they'll assign you your own cage. With your name written on the door.
Sometimes, Project is sidetracking PowerPoint, but this is a niche more granular than I'm willing to delve and hence I'll skip it. Getting lost in details is a time-consuming mistake I generally like to avoid because there are more pleasant ways to waste time.
If you've been an even better monkey all this time and can make it even further, the next step is, well... is actually an ugly little tool you've had with you all this time. Oh yes, even before Excel. It was there since day one. It was the bearer of tasks. And bad news. And more tasks.
Yes, it's Outlook.
Once your worst enemy, it is now your best friend. Your only friend. It's the only thing you'll ever need to do your work. The circle is now complete, everything else in between is gone now: work, reports, presentations, colleagues, friends in the open-space, knowledge, skills. It's lonely at the top, sure, but it's also very comfy. Your corner cage is bigger, with bigger windows. Your new couch is softer. Your ass is both bigger and softer. Your secretary is pretty soft, too. And at the end of each year you get a new shiny toy.
Of course, if you're competent enough the trajectory will not be so smooth and your only circle will be the hamster-wheel of Excel and endless work. And mail. And hope that maybe one day downsizing will save you. There's always hope.
12 March, 2015
Bland fisticuffs
This is not about global warming, but a bombastic start never hurts, right?
Right: global warning. Let's not mess about: it's common knowledge most of the greenhouse gas comes from farting cows. It's only natural for you and for the entire planet to give up meat, because this is all linked, man, you know?
Ironically, this knowledge comes mostly from another type of farting bovines. The main difference between them are the yoga pants, which one type doesn't wear and the other usually does, although in some cases the quadruped kind would look more appealing in them than their vocal biped vegetarian counterparts.
And in the opposite corner it's the if-you-don't-eat-meat-you'll-die folk. Because it's the proteins, man, know? Equally radical bunch, but opposite. And yet, the bovine mental associations return to mind. With less Lycra, though.
Although both so eloquent and rich in believable studies, these two camps reach rather divergent conclusions. I doubt the balance of truth tilts towards the proponents of aura cleansing through juicing raw quinoa or the butch beefcake squad, or if it just holds still on middle ground gastronomic common-sense symmetrically ignoring both extremes. But for the sake of such an irrelevant conflict, I'm all in for engaging either party in heated debate. Because the result is hilarious.
It's entertaining to watch raw-vegans boiling (get it?) over the slightest mentioning of a steak, but it's so refreshing. The only thing to top it off is offering tofu burgers to, well, you get it.
And that's it's. If you were expecting to find and answer or even a documented opinion, I'm happy to disappoint. But there's no need to milk a dry topic, really. It's that uninteresting.
Just stir it whenever possible, the debate is as fun as the subject is pointless. Best served cold, with a large audience.
Right: global warning. Let's not mess about: it's common knowledge most of the greenhouse gas comes from farting cows. It's only natural for you and for the entire planet to give up meat, because this is all linked, man, you know?
Ironically, this knowledge comes mostly from another type of farting bovines. The main difference between them are the yoga pants, which one type doesn't wear and the other usually does, although in some cases the quadruped kind would look more appealing in them than their vocal biped vegetarian counterparts.
And in the opposite corner it's the if-you-don't-eat-meat-you'll-die folk. Because it's the proteins, man, know? Equally radical bunch, but opposite. And yet, the bovine mental associations return to mind. With less Lycra, though.
Although both so eloquent and rich in believable studies, these two camps reach rather divergent conclusions. I doubt the balance of truth tilts towards the proponents of aura cleansing through juicing raw quinoa or the butch beefcake squad, or if it just holds still on middle ground gastronomic common-sense symmetrically ignoring both extremes. But for the sake of such an irrelevant conflict, I'm all in for engaging either party in heated debate. Because the result is hilarious.
It's entertaining to watch raw-vegans boiling (get it?) over the slightest mentioning of a steak, but it's so refreshing. The only thing to top it off is offering tofu burgers to, well, you get it.
And that's it's. If you were expecting to find and answer or even a documented opinion, I'm happy to disappoint. But there's no need to milk a dry topic, really. It's that uninteresting.
Just stir it whenever possible, the debate is as fun as the subject is pointless. Best served cold, with a large audience.
10 March, 2015
Wait for it...
There is an amazing ritual going on in few remote villages in the central part of the African continent. When a tiger cub is born the entire village sits around the fire all night and celebrate with singing and dancing the new god's coming into this world. Lions and tigers are considered to be divine spirits of the ancient warriors. It is said for the next seven days after no tiger will attack villagers that have taken part in the ritual, even if they happened to get lost -the villagers, not the tigers- in the woods.
Or at least that's what I'd say if I were a local and tourists bugged me with stupid questions. I would also let them know there's an upcoming ritual in a couple of days, which is very lucky and rare for this time of the year -there's actually one every week in full season, usually on Thursdays but it can be adjusted to follow the schedule of larger groups of tourists- and they are most welcome to it for free, as divinity loves everybody no matter where they're from. It's one of the most important events in the village, and not many are lucky to take part in it. This should keep them in the village for a few more days, giving them more opportunity to buy more magic fridge magnets, exotic spices and traditional products crafted items crafted by the villagers. Well, there is a possibility that the factory in China where the magic magnets and traditional products are being made is magic, so there could be some truth this. And although an untrained nose may not sniff differences between the exotic spices and the mixed-grill condiments at M&S, a keen eye will spot the 'exotic' ones are 4 to 7 times more expensive. Which has to stand for something, right? Right.
During the days before the ritual, many interesting activities may be arranged, such as trips around the village, or even in the village, observing the locals in their day-to-day activities, and giving a hand with day-to-day tasks like cooking or helping around. It's refreshing and almost emotional to see several fat blokes scorching outside in the sun, watching a pot of soup boiling over the fire made of wood they gathered and cut themselves not an hour ago. All this for a small amount of money they paid the host for their trouble, but in return they get to eat natural, unspoiled food. Which is awesome, right? Right. The money will help the villagers buy more food and it will also save them from the trouble of using the electric stove which can be problematic in hot days as the electric grid is already overloaded by the fans they keep on in houses where there are no tourists around.
Trips around the village may be also arranged to watch the wild animals roam free and admire the beautiful nature and landscapes. Well, not so many animals as it's still dry season, and the animals are hiding to protect themselves from the sun; the ginger hyena is particularly vulnerable, as is the emo cobra and the gray dermato-chimp; no, it's not made-up, who would do something like that? There's a different reasonable excuse for the wet season, too, but in reality the locals are not stupid to live very close to wild and dangerous animals. Not even near made-up wild animals, but that's their little secret.
Still, there's plenty of spectacular plants to see. The beanstalk that sparkles in the full moon during the rainy season is fascinating. Simply breath-taking, you should come again and see it then. Also, the grape pineapple has some leaves that at the beginning of dry season -not now, unfortunately, you just missed them- curl up and take a shape of a grape, hence the name. Giraffes eat only those, and the fruit will not be harmed. And after ten years since they have bloomed for the first time, the trunks of dwarf banana-trees no longer float in water. This is how the locals know which bananas are better. Young bananas are more flavorful, of course. Also fascinating is the effect on the price of pineapple, beans and young bananas tomorrow at the market. What? No, it was the same price the other day, honestly.
During the evening before the ritual they'd find out the presence of strangers might upset the divinity after all, but the elderly of village could probably sort this out for around 75$/ person. African tigers are very reasonable when it comes to foreign currency. And so are the drunkards that will sing gibberish and 'dance' wearing 'ceremonial clothing' for a couple of hours during the night in front of a fire for 10$.
All in all, a small price to pay for not knowing there are no tigers in Africa.
Or at least that's what I'd say if I were a local and tourists bugged me with stupid questions. I would also let them know there's an upcoming ritual in a couple of days, which is very lucky and rare for this time of the year -there's actually one every week in full season, usually on Thursdays but it can be adjusted to follow the schedule of larger groups of tourists- and they are most welcome to it for free, as divinity loves everybody no matter where they're from. It's one of the most important events in the village, and not many are lucky to take part in it. This should keep them in the village for a few more days, giving them more opportunity to buy more magic fridge magnets, exotic spices and traditional products crafted items crafted by the villagers. Well, there is a possibility that the factory in China where the magic magnets and traditional products are being made is magic, so there could be some truth this. And although an untrained nose may not sniff differences between the exotic spices and the mixed-grill condiments at M&S, a keen eye will spot the 'exotic' ones are 4 to 7 times more expensive. Which has to stand for something, right? Right.
During the days before the ritual, many interesting activities may be arranged, such as trips around the village, or even in the village, observing the locals in their day-to-day activities, and giving a hand with day-to-day tasks like cooking or helping around. It's refreshing and almost emotional to see several fat blokes scorching outside in the sun, watching a pot of soup boiling over the fire made of wood they gathered and cut themselves not an hour ago. All this for a small amount of money they paid the host for their trouble, but in return they get to eat natural, unspoiled food. Which is awesome, right? Right. The money will help the villagers buy more food and it will also save them from the trouble of using the electric stove which can be problematic in hot days as the electric grid is already overloaded by the fans they keep on in houses where there are no tourists around.
Trips around the village may be also arranged to watch the wild animals roam free and admire the beautiful nature and landscapes. Well, not so many animals as it's still dry season, and the animals are hiding to protect themselves from the sun; the ginger hyena is particularly vulnerable, as is the emo cobra and the gray dermato-chimp; no, it's not made-up, who would do something like that? There's a different reasonable excuse for the wet season, too, but in reality the locals are not stupid to live very close to wild and dangerous animals. Not even near made-up wild animals, but that's their little secret.
Still, there's plenty of spectacular plants to see. The beanstalk that sparkles in the full moon during the rainy season is fascinating. Simply breath-taking, you should come again and see it then. Also, the grape pineapple has some leaves that at the beginning of dry season -not now, unfortunately, you just missed them- curl up and take a shape of a grape, hence the name. Giraffes eat only those, and the fruit will not be harmed. And after ten years since they have bloomed for the first time, the trunks of dwarf banana-trees no longer float in water. This is how the locals know which bananas are better. Young bananas are more flavorful, of course. Also fascinating is the effect on the price of pineapple, beans and young bananas tomorrow at the market. What? No, it was the same price the other day, honestly.
During the evening before the ritual they'd find out the presence of strangers might upset the divinity after all, but the elderly of village could probably sort this out for around 75$/ person. African tigers are very reasonable when it comes to foreign currency. And so are the drunkards that will sing gibberish and 'dance' wearing 'ceremonial clothing' for a couple of hours during the night in front of a fire for 10$.
All in all, a small price to pay for not knowing there are no tigers in Africa.
06 March, 2015
The absence saga (Part VI)
Dear (well...) sender,
I'm on vacation, restoring the order in the unbalanced universe of work/life (with a strong focus on the latter). It's been a rather hectic universe lately, with life ignored in the back-seat and ultimately forgotten in the trunk. In the meantime, work has been taking over the wheel, driving on all available lanes in a way supposed to make my metaphor even more interesting. Due to lack of inspiration for interesting words when I thought of this, though, I'm aborting the analogy now. To sum things up: I'll be back in about 5 weeks, which may seem a like a long time now but if you're getting this a few days before I return it will not.
Based on the content of your email and my inbox, I will not reply immediately after my return; I'm expecting a lot of emails, or will find another credible excuse in case I forget to. If it cannot wait, you may send me an SMS, but please use this as last resort. And very, very sparingly. Also remember that good things come to those who wait. Once I waited for 4 months before I was able to go swimming, and when I finally got to do it it wasn't so exciting and I got out of the pool immediately (it was already late autumn and rather cold, which may have contributed somehow but doesn't rule out the other reasons). Similarly, if you think your email is no longer relevant by the time I come back you may recall the original message. Apologies are not required, I am a very understanding and kind person.
I'm on vacation, restoring the order in the unbalanced universe of work/life (with a strong focus on the latter). It's been a rather hectic universe lately, with life ignored in the back-seat and ultimately forgotten in the trunk. In the meantime, work has been taking over the wheel, driving on all available lanes in a way supposed to make my metaphor even more interesting. Due to lack of inspiration for interesting words when I thought of this, though, I'm aborting the analogy now. To sum things up: I'll be back in about 5 weeks, which may seem a like a long time now but if you're getting this a few days before I return it will not.
Based on the content of your email and my inbox, I will not reply immediately after my return; I'm expecting a lot of emails, or will find another credible excuse in case I forget to. If it cannot wait, you may send me an SMS, but please use this as last resort. And very, very sparingly. Also remember that good things come to those who wait. Once I waited for 4 months before I was able to go swimming, and when I finally got to do it it wasn't so exciting and I got out of the pool immediately (it was already late autumn and rather cold, which may have contributed somehow but doesn't rule out the other reasons). Similarly, if you think your email is no longer relevant by the time I come back you may recall the original message. Apologies are not required, I am a very understanding and kind person.
04 March, 2015
The ultimate exotic holiday survival guide
Part one: Introduction to Introduction
Based on estimations based on nothing, I'll live for about a hundred years and a bit. This means I'm quite far from midlife crisis, so for now I'll have to improvise one to avoid advice from people saying I'm in denial. Nobody is saying anything, but just in case.
I was never really interested in hot sport cars (sour grapes) or having an affair with the secretary (sour grapes. And sour personality). Extreme sports may hinder comfort and the smooth trajectory to a hundred years and a bit, I am not desperate enough to get a tattoo and I'm not patient enough to grow long hair.
Part two: Introduction
Alright, exotic trip it is; otherwise, the title would not be very relevant.
Part three: Planning
Planning is crucial for such a trip; in total, it took almost 2 years. More exactly, about 25 minutes split across almost 2 years. A good approach is to find a travel partner that's more interested than you in planning. In my case, pretty much anyone would qualify for this, including people with no interest to embark on such a trip.
The plan involved trekking in the jungle, sleeping outdoors in the jungle, snorkeling and diving (not in the jungle) and several other dangerous activities. The more responsible planner compiled a list of sundry necessary items for such endeavors, including trekking boots, compass, snorkeling gear, pocket knife, flashlight, insect repelling lotion, sun-blocking lotion, sleeping bag and so on. Having none of these, I brought a waterproof camera and some water sandals instead.
Part three: the urban jungle
Any serious visit to a new country starts with the capital. Here you have the most impressive buildings, the parliament/ king's palace, the more significant museums and other cultural or educational establishments. Despite all that, you have the main airport here so you don't really have much choice. There's also rampant prostitution -often of ambiguous nature and suggesting deviant reciprocity in sexual favors- and drugs, so it's not all bad.
There are all sorts of dangers in a big city, the first obvious one being fans and lamps attached to low ceilings constantly targeting my head (without me being racist or the country being Lilliput, I was generally taller than most people and only marginally shorter than many rooms). 5 such incidents occurred in the first morning alone, at breakfast. The second breakfast was much better, with a lower number of 0. Chiefly because we skipped it, due to laziness (and cocktails-laden dinner).
Having covered the capital, it was time to move on.
Part four: The jungle
The journey began by boat and continued on foot, on a secluded path hidden between a river and a bumpy road through the middle of a village. We came across an immense albino python at one point, which was rather scary as its owner asked for a lot of money to take photos wearing it around the neck.
Other wild animals we came across were mainly cows, chickens and elephants. Well, only one elephant. We didn't actually see it, but it was almost as good. We only heard some noise behind trees, and the guide said it was an elephant. We also saw some insects that were big enough to count as wild (as opposed to domestic insects, which are much smaller). We also had some for dinner (deep-fried, if you're curious. You're not? Never-mind, then), but they're not as tasty as one might imagine.
Up to this point, survival was possible without all the survival equipment I didn't have anyway, so no significant advice here.
The adventure culminated with being chased by indigenous tribes in the jungle, being chased by Nazis outside the jungle, poisonous snakes that seems to survive in a tomb without food or water. All this happened while I was watching Indiana Jones in a rooftop bar near a beach, which leads us to the next adventure: mysteries of the deep sea.
Part four (Beg pardon? OK, five): The deep sea
Here's where things can get dangerous: being in touristic areas, prices are significantly higher and everybody wants to rip you off, so make sure you haggle a bit. Another crucial piece of advice is that water sandals are great to avoid sea-urchins. They're particularly helpful if you actually wear them in water, and less so if you leave them on the beach (not many sea-urchins there).
In some places you may come across monkeys that will try to steal your stuff. This is true. In hindsight, it's better if everybody doesn't fall asleep on the beach at the same. Luckily, nothing was lost. Nothing from my stuff, at least. And monkeys are funny. When they steal stuff from somebody else.
A good place to avoid monkeys is under the water; scuba diving is a safe bet. Monkeys are not very good at handling the scuba gear. To be honest, I wasn't much better at it either, but I had an instructor. So here's another important piece of advice for survival: you probably have no chance with monkeys that can afford a diving instructor, try to keep away from them.
Diving is fun, but you're not supposed to do it if you're pregnant. I wasn't sure, but hoped for the best and went for it. It was spectacular, indeed: no monkeys there. Only some fish with impeccable manners.
Part six: The return
There are many proverbs to tell you how long journeys begin, but not as many to tell you how they end. Here's the penultimate piece of advice: a long journey usually ends up in the duty-free shops, trying to spend the last local currency you have on fridge magnets, cigarettes or alcohol. Most likely you're wearing the last clean clothes, you're exhausted and still have long flights ahead of you. And nobody will wait for you at the airport. Fortunately, vacation is over and on Monday you're going back to work; you'll get plenty of rest there.
Part seven: The end
The end.
Well, here's the last bit: If you can go see exotic places, don't worry too much about dangers. Just make sure to mind the obstacles on the ceiling if you're tall. Most of the times there are none, and you may miss amazing things if you stay at home. Enjoy...
Based on estimations based on nothing, I'll live for about a hundred years and a bit. This means I'm quite far from midlife crisis, so for now I'll have to improvise one to avoid advice from people saying I'm in denial. Nobody is saying anything, but just in case.
I was never really interested in hot sport cars (sour grapes) or having an affair with the secretary (sour grapes. And sour personality). Extreme sports may hinder comfort and the smooth trajectory to a hundred years and a bit, I am not desperate enough to get a tattoo and I'm not patient enough to grow long hair.
Part two: Introduction
Alright, exotic trip it is; otherwise, the title would not be very relevant.
Part three: Planning
Planning is crucial for such a trip; in total, it took almost 2 years. More exactly, about 25 minutes split across almost 2 years. A good approach is to find a travel partner that's more interested than you in planning. In my case, pretty much anyone would qualify for this, including people with no interest to embark on such a trip.
The plan involved trekking in the jungle, sleeping outdoors in the jungle, snorkeling and diving (not in the jungle) and several other dangerous activities. The more responsible planner compiled a list of sundry necessary items for such endeavors, including trekking boots, compass, snorkeling gear, pocket knife, flashlight, insect repelling lotion, sun-blocking lotion, sleeping bag and so on. Having none of these, I brought a waterproof camera and some water sandals instead.
Part three: the urban jungle
Any serious visit to a new country starts with the capital. Here you have the most impressive buildings, the parliament/ king's palace, the more significant museums and other cultural or educational establishments. Despite all that, you have the main airport here so you don't really have much choice. There's also rampant prostitution -often of ambiguous nature and suggesting deviant reciprocity in sexual favors- and drugs, so it's not all bad.
There are all sorts of dangers in a big city, the first obvious one being fans and lamps attached to low ceilings constantly targeting my head (without me being racist or the country being Lilliput, I was generally taller than most people and only marginally shorter than many rooms). 5 such incidents occurred in the first morning alone, at breakfast. The second breakfast was much better, with a lower number of 0. Chiefly because we skipped it, due to laziness (and cocktails-laden dinner).
Having covered the capital, it was time to move on.
Part four: The jungle
The journey began by boat and continued on foot, on a secluded path hidden between a river and a bumpy road through the middle of a village. We came across an immense albino python at one point, which was rather scary as its owner asked for a lot of money to take photos wearing it around the neck.
Other wild animals we came across were mainly cows, chickens and elephants. Well, only one elephant. We didn't actually see it, but it was almost as good. We only heard some noise behind trees, and the guide said it was an elephant. We also saw some insects that were big enough to count as wild (as opposed to domestic insects, which are much smaller). We also had some for dinner (deep-fried, if you're curious. You're not? Never-mind, then), but they're not as tasty as one might imagine.
Up to this point, survival was possible without all the survival equipment I didn't have anyway, so no significant advice here.
The adventure culminated with being chased by indigenous tribes in the jungle, being chased by Nazis outside the jungle, poisonous snakes that seems to survive in a tomb without food or water. All this happened while I was watching Indiana Jones in a rooftop bar near a beach, which leads us to the next adventure: mysteries of the deep sea.
Part four (Beg pardon? OK, five): The deep sea
Here's where things can get dangerous: being in touristic areas, prices are significantly higher and everybody wants to rip you off, so make sure you haggle a bit. Another crucial piece of advice is that water sandals are great to avoid sea-urchins. They're particularly helpful if you actually wear them in water, and less so if you leave them on the beach (not many sea-urchins there).
In some places you may come across monkeys that will try to steal your stuff. This is true. In hindsight, it's better if everybody doesn't fall asleep on the beach at the same. Luckily, nothing was lost. Nothing from my stuff, at least. And monkeys are funny. When they steal stuff from somebody else.
A good place to avoid monkeys is under the water; scuba diving is a safe bet. Monkeys are not very good at handling the scuba gear. To be honest, I wasn't much better at it either, but I had an instructor. So here's another important piece of advice for survival: you probably have no chance with monkeys that can afford a diving instructor, try to keep away from them.
Diving is fun, but you're not supposed to do it if you're pregnant. I wasn't sure, but hoped for the best and went for it. It was spectacular, indeed: no monkeys there. Only some fish with impeccable manners.
Part six: The return
There are many proverbs to tell you how long journeys begin, but not as many to tell you how they end. Here's the penultimate piece of advice: a long journey usually ends up in the duty-free shops, trying to spend the last local currency you have on fridge magnets, cigarettes or alcohol. Most likely you're wearing the last clean clothes, you're exhausted and still have long flights ahead of you. And nobody will wait for you at the airport. Fortunately, vacation is over and on Monday you're going back to work; you'll get plenty of rest there.
Part seven: The end
The end.
Well, here's the last bit: If you can go see exotic places, don't worry too much about dangers. Just make sure to mind the obstacles on the ceiling if you're tall. Most of the times there are none, and you may miss amazing things if you stay at home. Enjoy...
20 January, 2015
Based on a false story.
You are very relaxed. You're a river, a river of calm. Inhale, slowly. You're flowing. Very, very slowly. Breathe deeply. Feel the energy as you exhale. The energy flows with you. Are you aware? You are a river of energy. And you are overflowing. Can you feel it now? Good. That's why yoga mats are waterproof. And that's why you should never drink before yoga.
Although drunk yoga could be appealing to a big slice of the population pie, the slice that would not consider it while sober. But you'd just have to imagine something else than a river. Maybe a nice, dry cab with a driver that doesn't lie when he says he knows the address you've mumbled and won't rip you off on a prolonged detour there.
Yoga seems easy, but it is difficult and misleading. I was expecting to become a master in less than 10 minutes. For the first 2 or 3 it looked promising but eventually the only superior state I reached was a state of superior numbness followed by pain. This was a bit disappointing, as I have a very well trained body; for many years I've been following an almost daily workout routine on the keyboard and mouse. However, yoga seems to involve more muscles than those in the fingers, and my superbly fit index and middle finger couldn't compensate for the lack of exercise anywhere else in the body.
On the spiritual front it didn't go very well, either. After a while my mantras were in complete harmony with the humming of the fridge and the state of deep calm and relaxation I was expecting was consisting of five or six ideas blending quite dis-harmoniously. They covered an extended spectrum of high-level emotions such as slight hunger, things I could do to make the time go faster (I am particularly vulnerable to boredom), thinking whether I have enough clothes to postpone doing the laundry for next weekend, incipient sleepiness, trying to remember if someone borrowed the green memory-stick or I lost it and, finally, two rather conflicting ones: thirst and do I need to go to the bathroom?
I was wondering if this is what everybody else is experiencing during yoga. Because if it is, I am already a master. Unfortunately, I was not very sure. And failing to decide whether I was on the right track or not, I went for a drink to help me evaluate a better strategy to do yoga (turns out I didn't need to go to the bathroom).
To help with the mood I looked on the internet for yoga sounds but most of them consisted of infrequent bangs with a metal object in another metal object, or running water. Which I found to be very similar to what you can hear from a plumber in slow motion. And equally relaxing. And just like the average plumber visit, the average yoga soundtrack lasts between at least 3 and 8 hours.
Well, I haven't actually tried yoga, but I'm confident that if I did it would go pretty much like I imagined. I am great at planning things, especially when they don't involve any activity on my part (beside boredom, another weakness I take pride in is apprehension for manual labour). Everything else, though, is true.
Also, I don't have a yoga mat nor tight pants, which are probably not crucial but make great excuses for not doing it. However, I have a few scented candles from last Christmas which can induce a spiritual mood (or slight suffocation). I also have some marzipan left from Christmas, but I'm not sure it relates to yoga at all.
18 January, 2015
A very long article about cats and another not so long article about cats.
I read recently a woman's post on cats. Normally I don't bother and scroll
or click away, but she looked quite hot so my attention span spanned for more
than 2 seconds. Then I noticed words such as intelligence, affection and other
sugary attempts at anthropomorphism. And I also noticed the post was rather
very long. So I stopped, eventually, after 3 seconds (which is 50 percent more
than usual). I'm all in for wasting time and enjoying the occasional
hilarious drivel, but not one that takes itself seriously. Because nasty things
can happen if people start taking seriously such things (look at religion).
In the attractive lady's defence, I can see the cat appearing intelligent to her (in a direct comparison the cat would probably win), but this doesn't change anything.
Here's a good example.
I was taking out the trash this morning when I noticed a group of five cats in heat. All tense, growling and fighting. I am not familiar with cats' interest in group sex in general, but this particular group didn't seem to be much into that; they seemed to struggle with the teaming. You could see immediately there was an obvious problem with grouping an odd number of things into pairs.
First, a bit of math. I am not proficient at distinguishing a cat's sex from the distance (no, this isn't the part that has anything to do with math), so let's cover all scenarios. The most difficult one is -in my opinion- 3 males and 2 females. Because 4 males and 1 female would be much easier to sort; just set the rota and make sure everyone follows schedule. And 5 males is even easier; problem solved already. They can all go for a beer and have a good time; no need to fight, at least not before a few glasses. In fairness (and also to keep pleased my feminist readers, I'm sure there are lots of them among the 3 or 4 readers of this blog), let's cover now the scenarios when females outnumber the males. An almost equal number of females and males -that's 3 females and 2 males, if you struggle with numbers- is the trickiest bit, because no male would allow the other one to have two while it only gets one. 4 females to 1 male is probably the easiest: the male promises to take care of all of them, but after having a go with the best-looking one it'll get tired and fall asleep. In these case there would be only 3 cats fighting, one quiet and happy and the fifth quiet and happy. And sleeping. And finally, the scenario of 5 females could easily explain the fighting, hissing and overall noise.
Of course, there could also be sexual minorities (to keep HR happy, too), but not even David Attenborough is that thorough. Ricky Gervais tackled the topic briefly more than 10 years ago but eventually dismissed it for lack of evidence.
I thought of all this while enjoying the show (I know most people find irritating the noise cats make when they're in heat, but I find it hilarious). But after feeling like Attenborough observing wild animals in their natural habitat, I got cold after a few minutes and got back inside.
My point is that cats are nowhere near humans at organizing even such simple tasks. People are more evolved, they invented things like gang-bangs (or the more conservative ménage-à-trois for those interested but bashful or agoraphobic) or fishbowls and car-keys to tackle such complicated matters. And let's not forget alcohol, of course. Actually, the most human behaviour I've seen in a cat was when it got drunk at a party. After 2 saucers of champagne and some beer it got feisty and unstable.
But generalization based on exceptions is wrong. Granted, cats are generally cute and particularly cuddly. But not human. Unless you count crass stupidity. In which case that attractive lady is very, very right.
In the attractive lady's defence, I can see the cat appearing intelligent to her (in a direct comparison the cat would probably win), but this doesn't change anything.
Here's a good example.
I was taking out the trash this morning when I noticed a group of five cats in heat. All tense, growling and fighting. I am not familiar with cats' interest in group sex in general, but this particular group didn't seem to be much into that; they seemed to struggle with the teaming. You could see immediately there was an obvious problem with grouping an odd number of things into pairs.
First, a bit of math. I am not proficient at distinguishing a cat's sex from the distance (no, this isn't the part that has anything to do with math), so let's cover all scenarios. The most difficult one is -in my opinion- 3 males and 2 females. Because 4 males and 1 female would be much easier to sort; just set the rota and make sure everyone follows schedule. And 5 males is even easier; problem solved already. They can all go for a beer and have a good time; no need to fight, at least not before a few glasses. In fairness (and also to keep pleased my feminist readers, I'm sure there are lots of them among the 3 or 4 readers of this blog), let's cover now the scenarios when females outnumber the males. An almost equal number of females and males -that's 3 females and 2 males, if you struggle with numbers- is the trickiest bit, because no male would allow the other one to have two while it only gets one. 4 females to 1 male is probably the easiest: the male promises to take care of all of them, but after having a go with the best-looking one it'll get tired and fall asleep. In these case there would be only 3 cats fighting, one quiet and happy and the fifth quiet and happy. And sleeping. And finally, the scenario of 5 females could easily explain the fighting, hissing and overall noise.
Of course, there could also be sexual minorities (to keep HR happy, too), but not even David Attenborough is that thorough. Ricky Gervais tackled the topic briefly more than 10 years ago but eventually dismissed it for lack of evidence.
I thought of all this while enjoying the show (I know most people find irritating the noise cats make when they're in heat, but I find it hilarious). But after feeling like Attenborough observing wild animals in their natural habitat, I got cold after a few minutes and got back inside.
My point is that cats are nowhere near humans at organizing even such simple tasks. People are more evolved, they invented things like gang-bangs (or the more conservative ménage-à-trois for those interested but bashful or agoraphobic) or fishbowls and car-keys to tackle such complicated matters. And let's not forget alcohol, of course. Actually, the most human behaviour I've seen in a cat was when it got drunk at a party. After 2 saucers of champagne and some beer it got feisty and unstable.
But generalization based on exceptions is wrong. Granted, cats are generally cute and particularly cuddly. But not human. Unless you count crass stupidity. In which case that attractive lady is very, very right.
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