The Darwin Awards

Bad Idea

2009-06-18T00:02:00.002Z

You know that little voice in the back of your head that says it's a bad idea to attempt to cut your own hair?

Listen to it.

Seven Days!

2009-06-05T08:02:00.002Z

Is it too much to ask for the fucking Mexican butt pirate next door to not keep thumping the wall when he is getting his fudge packing done? The walls are so damn thin that every moan, every sigh, every groan, (ugh this is the worst) every wet noise just sounds so loud when everything else is quiet. Last night I figured the only way to deal was to create a playlist on iTunes and have it on loop until morning. Featured artists include Opeth, Arch Enemy, Metallica and so on. I can't stand the fucking asshole (pun intended) and I keep telling myself it's only a few days more. 7 days to be exact.

If I don't kill the rump ranging sausage jockey first.

Yeah, in case you hadn't guessed, ranting Darwin is back.

No, before you speculate, The Boyfriend and I are far more discreet than this cockgobbling fuckwit. Trust me.

Here comes the sun

2009-05-31T15:27:00.004Z

Weather in Glasgow has been positively amazing these past couple of days. I can actually wear skirts again. The skies are blue, the breeze is light, the birds chirp, the flowers are in bloom, everything is beautiful. This is all very cool.

Except that when the sun comes out it seems that the entire population of Glasgow decides to come out too. This is not cool at all.

You see, it's one thing to be out enjoying the weather, drinking in the fresh air and all that. It's quite another when you bring your whole fucking whiny brood in the double fucking prams and hog the entire sidewalk so that other people can't walk on it. It's not cool when you walk even slower than MIA's thought process when you hog the above-mentioned sidewalk. It's not cool when you take off your tops and grace everyone with your hairy man-boobs and flabby bellies. It's not cool when you wear so little clothes that all I see is a sea of fat splotchy white folk, sunbathing like beached whales. I'm all for seeing near-naked folk but the least you could do is try and hit the gym and tone up a bit before you decide to take everything off. It's not cool when it becomes a chore to walk outdoors simply because I know the crowds will piss me off within 10mins tops and take away whatever spring there was in my step. It's not cool when you smoke up and pollute the air for the rest of us who don't want to get fucking lung cancer. It's not cool when you get drunk on beer and then decide to relieve yourselves and piss at the nearest bush regardless of who else is there.

I wish it would start raining again. I hate this.

Assventures in Solitude

2009-05-22T20:39:00.001Z

It was a quiet Saturday night. The sound of the rain pattering against the glass outside was soothing to my ears and I was drifting away to a blissful slumber.

Suddenly The Boyfriend sits up in bed next to me and says "omg".

I sit up, listen intently and follow with my own "omfg!".

It was very faint at first, but upon concentrating on the noise, the realisation and the horror of it dawned on me slowly. The grunts of exertion and the moans of pleasure were hard to miss. It was like a horrible flashback into the past, where Natalie was perpetually humping her boyfriend in the middle of the night.

Except this time it was Mexican Y. And a Guy. Jesus fucking christ.

The sounds are unmistakable. I'm no homophobe, but I'm also not a fan of hearing people have loud sex regardless of whether it's man on man or not. The Boyfriend was understandably traumatised and dived under the covers. Wuss.

And after a while the sounds stopped. I listened intently, hoping that they were spent and not just taking a break from the fudgepacking. Then I heard the words that somehow made the whole trauma of hearing the noises feel even more real.

"Do you usually just pull out and come on your hands like that?"

I wish I hadn't heard. I really wish I could have stopped my mind from picturing it but you know how once you hear something awful your sadistic brain doesn't stop till it makes a little movie for you in your head?

Good news though, he's moving out next month so hopefully his assventures with his new boyfriend can continue elsewhere without keeping me up at night.

Fuck the French

2009-05-16T14:31:00.003Z

Procedure for Applying for a Short Stay Shengen Visa from the French Consulate in Edinburgh (The real version)

Go to the website and look up the process. Feel fairly confident that you have all the necessary details and documents and head to Consulate.

Get asked if you have a photocopy of your passport photo page. Reply in the affirmative. Get asked if you have a photocopy of your UK student visa. Reply in the negative since the fucking website does not tell you that you need a photocopy of that. Get told that they can't process your application without that and sent out.

Hunt frantically for a photocopy place nearby and walk around an unfamiliar area of Edinburgh without getting lost. Fantasise about how you'd like to slowly torture Visa Officer.

Find photocopy place, get photocopy. Walk back to Consulate and go back in. Hand documents to Dumb Cunt of a Visa Officer (DCVO).

Have your Visa Application Form checked by DCVO. Get asked why the address for the hotel in France doesn't have a postcode. Reply that the fucking website for the hotel never gave a fucking postcode, that's why. Get told that the retarded froggies cannot process the application without that and sent out. Again.

Walk outside the Consulate and phone up the hotel in France to ask them for the postcode. Write it down on both copies of the form and head back in. Fantasise about how you'd like to slowly torture DCVO.

Have the documents checked again by DCVO. Get asked to pay the Visa Application Fee. The website for the Consulate says the fee varies between £40 and £60 so take cash with you. Get told that the fee for that day is £53.47. Hand over £50 in notes, and four £1 coins, totalling £54. Get told that they need the exact amount. Tell DCVO that you don't need the balance back, she can keep it for her fucking attitude or shove it up her arse (ok not really). Get told that they need the exact amount only and get told (yup you guessed it) that the retarded dumb fucking frog eating bastards cannot process the application without that and sent out. Again.

Attempt not to scream. Find the change required in exact coins and head back in and pay the fee. Hope that DCVO doesn't send you out again, for her sake. Get asked to sit down and wait while DCVO goes off with your documents.

DCVO returns with a slip of paper and passport. DCVO hands over slip of paper and mumbles something with her strong french accent. Fail to understand because the DCVO is not speaking English the way it should be spoken (god I sound such a brit) and ask her to repeat. She points at slip of paper and then fucks off to ruin someone else's day.

Stare blankly at slip of paper and my passport in my hand. Everything on the slip of paper is typed in French, but you recognise your name. DCVO has scribbled 08/06 on it. Does that mean you come back on the 8th of June with the passport to collect the visa? What if it's the 6th of August? The flight to France is on the 20th of June! Wait to ask DCVO just to be sure.

DVCO notices you standing and comes over with a rude and abrupt 'yessss? what you want, I'm done with youu'. Close eyes briefly to calm self down. Point at slip of paper and ask 'Do you mean I'm to come back on the 8th of June?'. DCVO nods and mumbles something incoherent again. Assume it means that I come back on the 8th of June to get the visa stamped onto my passport, assuming the fuckers decide to give it to me.

Leave Consulate. Fantasise about torturing and slowly killing DCVO. Picture smashing her face into a wall repeatedly until her flat monkey-like features are no longer distinguishable and everything is a bloody pulp.

Life

2009-05-06T08:02:00.002Z

It's not bloody fair that Malaysian N only wrote a tiny sub-section in the Materials and Methods bit of a paper describing his whole PhD project and his supervisor writes the rest for him and he gets published. Some people have all the fucking luck.

Deep Throat

2009-04-30T23:58:00.002Z

For the past three hours The Boyfriend has been inserting various objects down my throat, ranging from a toothbrush to a paintbrush. I wish it was as kinky as that sounds but sadly I have merely managed to get a fishbone stuck in my throat. I can't get it out and it's annoying the hell out of me and it hurts when I swallow and I hate it and I don't know what to do. I've tried coughing till I can cough no more, I've swallowed dry bread and felt like gagging and drunk as much water/coke as I could manage to no avail.

I really don't know how I manage to do these things to myself. If this thing is still in there when I wake up tomorrow I guess I must go to a GP and let him/her stick things down my throat. I feel very sorry for myself, if you haven't guessed already.

British Airways or Baggage Annihilators?

2009-04-23T10:45:00.007Z

The Boyfriend was recently on a flight to London from Glasgow. He had the misfortune to be flying British Airways, or rather Baggage Annihilators as they shall be known hereafter. This is what they did to his stuff.

This is his bag. No it wasn't deliberately thrown through the engine, it had 'fallen off' the baggage cart when the bags were being transported from the airport to the plane.
This is the shredded phone charger.But the best picture of them all was the picture of his boots. Steel-toe construction boots that totally got pwned, almost as bad as Nibras Bawa gets pwned on a daily basis by the SL blogosphere. However in this case I feel sorry for the boots.Getting compensation back from Baggage Annihilators has proven difficult, to put it mildly. They're still in the 'jerk-you-around-endlessly-by-email-and-keep-you-on-hold-for-hours-by-phone-to-see-who-tires-out-first' stage of the claim process. The most disturbing news of it all? The Boyfriend was flying on a Staff ticket since a family member is employed by BA. So if this is how they treat their 'own', then us commoners are well and truly fucked aren't we?

The Highlands

2009-04-17T20:28:00.000Z

Last Friday was the Easter break for us and a group of us decided to head up north to the Highlands. Our final destination was the Isle of Skye where we had booked two cottages for the weekend but we made a few stops along the way as the drive up was stunning. I've been to Skye before, and seen Glencoe and it's Middle-Earthish look before, but I don't think the views are something I'd ever get tired of seeing. The walk was slightly muddy though, so my wellies came in very handy. There is something awfully deliciously gross about the squelchy sucking noise mud makes when you're in it. I really do envy buffalos sometimes!A few more miles along the drive we got to yet another viewpoint that we couldn't resist stopping at. The weather was overcast and there was a slight drizzle to the left of us but a break in the clouds allowed some sunlight to come through, making a beautiful rainbow over the valley.

The sparse sunlight also filtered through the clouds to light up the valley to the right with an ethereal light which was lovely. On the way back we spotted a fighter jet in the valley, and I think I remember reading somewhere that the RAF do test flights over Glencoe Valley. All I can say is that the pilot is one lucky bastard, it must be stunning to fly through something as scenic as this.Given the time of the year, the hillsides are sprinkled with gold from the gorse bushes which softened the harsh landscape slightly but still allowed the cliffs to retain the remote look that I now associate with the Scottish Highlands. We were really lucky with the weather; blue skies and as a result, blue waters of Loch Duich made a really nice picture, particularly as it wasn't very windy and made the lake (or rather the loch) look almost mirror-like.I managed to get some really nice closeups of moss, and I love how green and mossy it looks and the detail that can be seen on the sporophytes.We also made a stop at the Talisker Distillery in Carbost, Isle of Skye. It's the only distillery in Skye and we got a fairly comprehensive tour of the distillery along with a shot of complementary whisky at the end of it. I didn't actually know that whisky is actually colourless, and it's the oak from the barrels they're stored in that gives it the distinctive amber glow.We also got a chance to head up to Northern Skye along the coast. The views were stunning, with mountain ranges seen in various shades of hazy blue, blending into nothingness and fading away into the distance.This photograph below is probably my favourite from the whole trip. I love how majestic the cliffs are and how timeless it all seems. The cliffs seem so impassive and it feels like they've been around since the dawn of time, and we are but a mere insignificant blink for them in the scale of things. It's a humbling thought.The thing I noticed most was the silence. The views stretched out as far as the eye could see, and yet if you stopped speaking, all you could hear was the complete and utter silence of the whole place. It was so peaceful and relaxing, and I wish the photographs could convey that feeling. I experienced something similar when I was in Delphi in Greece but that was the only other time I recall experiencing this sort of silence.There was a bit of the cliff protruding out so we walked out there. I realised how truly chicken I am when it comes to heights because I was terrified of slipping on pebbles and falling off. The Boyfriend held my hand since I was being a girly girl, and lying down on my tummy helped lower my centre of gravity and made it seem less scary. It was amazing up there!All too soon it was time to return to Glasgow and say goodbye to the rest of the group. We made a stop at Paisley in an attempt to find a coffee shop to kill time in, but everywhere was closed and it was such a drastic change from the beauty of the Highlands. Even the Pound Shop seemed to be closed down, and personally it all felt very grim and depressing. On a positive note it's all the more reason to plan the next trip somewhere soon!

Phew!

2009-04-09T13:38:00.003Z

I apologise in advance for the random incoherent nature of this post. Sunday evening saw me on a train to Edinburgh for the 2009 British Society of Parasitology Spring Meeting. The Boyfriend came up with me for the night because I'm a klutz with maps and the company was nice. I was also a tad nervous because this was the first time I'd be giving an oral presentation at a conference. Ok so a 15min talk might not seem much but trust me, it's scary when its the first time you've ever done it and you're doing it in front of an audience of researchers who have spent decades working on the stuff. Eek.

Nevertheless I am happy to say that Monday afternoon at exactly 12.54PM I heaved a sigh of relief as I said the words 'I'd just like to acknowledge the people who helped with this work and the funding bodies and you for your kind attention" to the lecture room full of people, fenced a few relatively straightforward questions and then sat back down. Phew! The adrenaline rush, the sense of relief, the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment...it was nice.

The next few days went by in a haze. Plenty of alcohol kindly provided by the BSP and then the conference dinner. And the celidh afterwards (dancing a celidh with heels on is a bad idea). Recognising familiar faces from previous meetings. Is it very sad that I can recognise folk at a Parasitology conference? Having randoms come upto me and tell me how much they enjoyed my talk on RNAi. Taking the afternoon session off and heading to an intriguingly named cafe 'Chocolate Soup' (do check it out if you're ever in Edinburgh!). Actually enjoying some of the talks presented, especially the one about in refugia as control for parasite populations. Also the one about worm phylogenetic trees.

The BSP last year was my first conference. Ever. This year's BSP was my first oral presentation. Ever. If I do stay on in the Parasitology field I wonder what next year would hold.

Mean

2009-03-29T08:06:00.001Z

My dad's 3 month alms giving and bana sermon thing is coming up. My mom is a lot like me and is easily stressed out by the fuckwits we have the misfortune to call relatives. So I was chatting with her a couple of days ago and she was preemptively dreading the standard nosy questions she would get asked this time round. Then we both hit upon the brilliant idea of typing out standard responses and printing it out and giving them as handouts at the door when the people walk in. Kinda like a press release. Here's an excerpt of the conversation we had about it;

Darwin’s mom: actually i should get a computer printout

me: I think you should type out a memo
ya exactly
and take photocopies
and keep it at the front of the house

Darwin’s mom: give it to everyone who asks.
shall I?
“I live alone, i use all 3 vehicles, i dont have servants.
i go for work, i dont feel lonely. yes, Darwin is fine"

Darwin’s mom: what else?

me: "i manage to cook for myself and eat just fine. thanks for asking. now please eat the damn food, dont pester me and piss off"

Darwin’s mom: "no Darwin is not married, no I’m not sure if she has plans to come back here."

me: awesome!

Darwin’s mom: i think we are being very mean

me: heh.

Wishful thinking folks, wishful thinking.

New lows

2009-03-26T16:42:00.002Z

Just when I think I can't get any ditzier than I already am, I discover new ways of astonishing myself with my absentmindedness.

Take for example an incident yesterday. I stupidly left my wallet behind in the locker at the gym. No matter how many times I berate myself for being such a muppet, I still do this occasionally at least once every few months. However this time there was a notable worsening of the said absentmindedness; I didn't even realise I left my wallet in the gym until I got a call from the gym this afternoon, informing me that my wallet has been found.

Thankfully I had the presence of mind to pretend that I was aware of it's loss rather than go "whoa, it was lost?!" so that they wouldn't think I'm a complete moron. I suppose that even though I'm bad at avoiding the fuckup, I'm good at covering it up. Maybe I should consider investment banking as a career alternative...

Sigh.

Red notice

2009-03-24T08:21:00.000Z

In an effort to unclutter my life, I took a good long look at my Facebook friend list. Surely I did not really have 224 'friends'? Most of them were folk that had now drifted so much that keeping in touch (if ever) had become merely an obligation, and a tedious one at that (and this is probably mutual too). So a few days back I changed my status to what sounded like an ultimatum;

Darwin says if you haven't been in touch with me in some way during the last 6 months and you don't respond to this status message, you're off my friend list.

I wasn't fishing for replies or hoping to create a stir. It was a genuine 'red notice' if you like, because it's pretty clear that if someone really hasn't been in touch with me at all for the past 6 months (in any way, so real life meet ups, emails, chatting, FB wall-scribbling etc counts) then chances are that they probably see me as redundant as I see them. I have no need for them in my life anymore and they probably feel the same way.

I had a few interesting responses to the status message though. Some people reacted predictably enough, and saw it as a kick up the arse for not keeping in touch. A friend from undergrad days who I've never heard from since leaving uni suddenly writes with excuses about how busy she's been and apologies for not replying my emails from 3 years ago. I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that I probably won't hear from her again for another good few years either. All in all, it was time for all these redundant friends to go.

So I went through my list and deleted a bunch of folk. I culled it down from 224 to a slightly more respectable 109 Friends. I realise this is still a work in progress though and I will try and get this number down a bit more in a few months time. Then I updated my status to read;

Darwin is done spring cleaning her friend list. for the moment. if you're still in it, pat yourself on the back for making it through the first round.

No rest for the wicked

2009-03-20T16:02:00.001Z

Even if I was the type to mope around feeling sorry for myself, I wouldn't have the luxury of time to do it. Just to clarify though, I'm not that type. Anyway, I've been back in Glasgow now for about a month and have spent the past few weeks frantically playing catch-up on experiments. Why? Because I'm in the final year of this PhD. Because like it or not, funding runs out in October. Because I had to give my final year presentation to the entire faculty yesterday.

I was nervous at first during the weeks leading up to it but then gradually the nerves faded. I'd done everything I could possibly do in terms of preparation given the circumstances and if that wasn't good enough then it was out of my control anyway so I didn't see a point in stressing about it. This frame of mind helped me stay relatively calm and yesterday my presentation went off smashingly well if I do say so myself. I'm relieved it's over and kinda glad I went ahead and did it rather than asking for an extension; after all it's something that needed to be done sooner or later.

As I've said before all this has been a learning curve and I sometimes feel older than my years. I suppose that's to be expected. I also have surprisingly little patience with people who whine about trivial problems, their lack of perspective is really noticeable to me now. However I do refrain from telling them how I feel about their trivial little problems, after all not everyone is blessed/cursed with my particular set of circumstances so expecting everyone around me to grow a pair and man up is asking a bit much.

In other news, the weather here is gorgeous and if you know Glasgow at all you know how rare that is. Ah, spring!

Grief and gratitude

2009-03-13T15:39:00.003Z

It's been a busy few weeks for me, and blogging has been sadly neglected as a result. But I've learnt a lot the past few weeks and I want to get it out because these are things I don't want to forget someday.

I've learnt the value of friends who were/are there for me and my mom through all this, offering advice and suggestions to the innumerable decisions that have to be made on a daily basis. Physically helping in getting through the endless list of things that need to be done, be it something as simple as serving up some King Coconut for the priests on the day of the 7-day alms giving or helping out with bringing back all my dad's case files from his office in Hulsdorph. Not just the people that say 'if there's anything you need let us know' and then go back to gossiping at the funeral, but actually help out with the stuff. Do-ers rather than sayers. Thank you.

I've learnt that even though some of my friends could not physically be there for me during that time because they were far away, they were still there for me by offering a willing ear to hear me rant. The few friends who knew about it when my dad was ill who would listen to my fears and worries about it. Friends who asked me how I was doing, not out of curiosity but concern. Friends who comforted me with sympathy rather than pity. Friends who make an effort to keep in touch with me, even if it's a simple one-liner email. People I've never met who emailed/commented on my last blog post with incredible words of support and kindness that made me feel less alone. Thank you.

I've learnt that true grief takes weeks to come through, and tears aren't necessarily a sign of how much you miss someone. I didn't cry a single tear when I was in SL dealing with all this and neither did my mom, but there were plenty of others who did. People who were dealing with their own guilt for not making more of an effort to keep in touch with my dad, now shocked because it seemed oh so sudden. I have no sympathy for dickwads like that; if I'm not crying, what gives them the right to cry? What makes them think I'm interested to sit and listen to their guilt-fuelled excuses? So thanks but no thanks, people like that made a difficult time even more difficult.

I've learnt that even at a time like this, so many people have their own agenda. The relatives who are eyeing my dad's cars, asking my mom if she's planning on selling any. The family 'friends' who are eyeing property down south, asking my mom if she would lease it to them. My dad's junior who is eyeing my dad's law practice, hoping to have it handed to him on a silver platter despite not being a partner. My dad's clients who didn't pay his fees and took advantage of my dad's kindness and generosity since he did so many cases for free. They all remind me of vultures, coming to pick at a carcass. Fuck you very much assholes.

I've learnt to become more assertive when it comes to saying what I feel, even though I never really had a problem in that department (ha ha). I've also learnt that life is short (apologies for how corny and cliched that sounds) and I really don't need to waste my time with sub-par friendships and unnecessary drama.

Each day is different and life goes on. I'm trying to find the balance between being the whiny emo-cow constantly feeling sorry for herself and the ice-queen who insists she's fine and refuses to talk to anyone about it. The balance between negative depression and positive sharing with the few people I feel comfortable doing that with.

I think I'm getting there.

Loss

2009-01-31T18:59:00.004Z

Just over three years ago my father was diagnosed with cancer. A smoker since he was 14, the news did not surprise me but it did fill me with fear and dismay. It was a Stage IV tumor which meant the 5 year survival rate was less than 5%; I knew it did not look good, to put it mildly. Surgery was not an option so it was decided that chemo was the way to go. It worked well the first time and the tumour was cleared completely. My dad made it to England for my undergrad graduation and I look back on that day as one of the happiest of my life simply because of how proud he was of me. Then a few months later the cancer came back but it responded to chemo again. It was like that for the next couple of years, always waiting on the oncologist's assessment after every three months and then hopefully breathing a sigh of relief that it was all clear. Throughout all this he still went into work, went for his morning walk, drove himself around, did trips to Yala and Udawalawe and so on, the chemo never once interrupted the quality of his life.

Last September I was told something that I had always been dreading to hear; that there was a shadow in the x-ray and a recurrence was suspected. My dad was started on an oral chemo drug. However by this point, after three years of chemo, he was weaker than when he was first diagnosed. He was slower than before when walking and he got tired quicker than he used to. He was 64 years old so the age was also probably a factor. There was not much improvement and in January after the next assessment it was decided that we would change the drugs and use a stronger chemo.

His condition gradually deteriorated but at that point we were just not sure if it was the cancer or the side effects of the chemo. He was in and out of hospital, and I would constantly be updated by my mom about what the doctors said. I'd eagerly check email hoping for good news and would spend hours chatting with my mom during weekends, or speak on the phone if she had urgent news. At this point I considered the possibility that things could get worse, significantly worse, and a flight home would be a good idea. Then a week later my mom told me that he was admitted to hospital because it was easier to care for him there and told me that I should get back as soon as possible.

So it was all pretty sudden from there onwards. Hurried phone calls to my supervisor, booking flights, packing and then sitting in a taxi on my way to the airport, my mind racing, trying to brace myself for the inevitable. Long hours to myself on the flight with nothing to do but stare out of the window into the darkness stretching out endlessly both literally and metaphorically ahead of me. I would shake my head occasionally and force myself to snap out of it as I had to be strong for what was ahead.

I was met at the airport by a friend and it was nice seeing a familiar face, although it felt sad too because usually I'd see both my parents waiting for me. I went straight to the hospital from the airport as by this time my dad had been moved to the intensive care unit. My mom was waiting outside the ward for me and I went straight inside to see my dad. It was pretty difficult even though I wasn't surprised by anything I saw since my mom had kept me posted throughout the entire ordeal. He had difficulty breathing and talking more than a sentence at a time was exhausting for him despite having an oxygen mask on. I knelt by his bedside and held his hand and watched his eyes focus on me. We spoke. He asked my mom to bring something over, and turns out it was an early graduation gift for me, a watch that he's been meaning to give me for a long time. I spoke to him for a bit longer and then said I'd leave him to rest for a bit.

That was the last time I spoke to my father.

The next morning when we went into hospital at around 8am and my dad's status had significantly worsened. His breathing was more laboured and he did not respond when I touched his hand, although he was still conscious. I couldn't really handle seeing him like that and neither could my mom so we went back outside. Then we just waited there. A few hours later one of the nurses opens the door and asked us back inside. We went back in and I went to his side and held his hand even though he probably wasn't aware of it by that point. The display on the wall showing his vital signs were very irregular and his oxygen saturation level was really low so I suppose the nurses who had seen this sort of thing before knew it was time. We were all silent. I was still holding his hand and watching the monitor, willing it to slow down, wanting it to end soon. Gradually his breathing got slower, his pulse slowed down and the displays showed a flat line. The nurses came over and turned it off and then took off his oxygen mask. The doctor then came and shone a torch in his eyes to check his reflexes and his pupils did not contract. The time of death was called at 12.31PM, January 29th.

It felt as if he held on with every last remainder of his strength until I could get there and after he spoke to me, he was at peace with himself to let go. I still miss him though and I don't think I'll ever quite get used to the idea of him not being around.

The world seems a much smaller place somehow.

Cleaning frenzy Part 782

2009-01-20T19:35:00.004Z

I've been on a marathon cleaning spree this past week. Yes, I really do mean a week-long cleaning frenzy. I cleaned out stuff that didn't strictly need cleaning yet, but had to be cleaned because everything else would be clean so it would bug me if everything was not at the same equal level of cleanliness/tidiness. I'm serious, it would have kept me up at night.

One of things that I've always wanted to clean was my laptop. I clean it once every few weeks with a slightly damp cloth. I wipe the keys and then I use an anti-static wipe on the screen. I used to have a can of pressurised air to clean between the keys but that finished a while back and I never got round to buying a new one. Also, I wasn't too sure about how well that cleaned between the keys because in theory it would simply be blowing in the dirt deeper although some bits would get blown out.

This weekend I found a fairly safe method to clean the laptop keyboard. I know someone who takes out the keys and cleans them individually and puts them back but I can't do that with mine since the keys are not detachable and I'm pretty fucked if I break any one of them in the process of pulling them out.

So I took the vacuum cleaner, removed the brush attachment so it was just the nozzle and then put a folded up damp cloth over it and held it over the keys. I used the cloth to a) dull the force of suction in case it was too powerful and resulted in damaging the keys and b) I wanted to visually evaluate exactly how much crap I managed to get out.
Check that out. I got about six, yes six whole fucking loads crap like that. I kept at it until no more crap was cleaned out. Reading articles like this one that say that keyboards can be dirtier than a toilet really freaks me out so I'm glad that I've found a fairly easy reliable method for cleaning out the keyboard.

Score!

Hands On (Part 3) - The Baaaad Boy

2009-01-19T08:51:00.000Z

Continued from here and here.

"No, you stupid fucking cunt, pull the fucking car over, there's something there, in the fucking road." she said.

She was right, there was something there.

It was a sheep. He slammed his brakes and the car came to a halt just in time. It wasn't just any sheep, it was The Sheep. It was beautiful. Pure white and fluffy, the wool glistening from the glare of the headlights. The amber eyes seemingly unafraid, looking straight at him, almost daring him to look away but he couldn't. He was mesmerised. He almost wished he had worn his pullover, the one with the sheep on it, as his crazy mother had kept insisting just a few moments earlier.

"What the fuck are you staring like that at the sheep for you stupid moron? Just honk the damn horn and keep driving for fuck's sake!" his mother's harsh voice cut through the beautiful moment, rudely shattering it. Ever since she was diagnosed with Tourette's syndrome a few years ago, he was no longer surprised by her obscene outbursts such as this one.

He had almost forgotten about her. But that sheep. He couldn't just let a moment like this go past him, he would spend the rest of his life wondering 'what if?'. The sheep was unusual; unafraid of him unlike all the other previous sheep he had 'met' and he felt that this was an important moment in his life, one which would have a lasting impact upon the rest of it.

His thoughts went back to that fateful day, almost eight years ago when he had spent the summer holidays with his pervy old Uncle in London. His Uncle was a drummer in a band and taken him along to a farm because he had to record a music video for the band's new single. Even at 14 he wasn't really interested in music or most of the other stuff people his age were into. He could tell his parents were worried about him, which was probably why they had insisted he spend the summer with his trendy Uncle.

He had wandered over to the sheep pens because he could hear the baas from where he stood with his Uncle. He rounded a corner and there he saw the sheep. They were surprisingly clean, considering how muddy the surroundings were, and he could smell them. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the earthy animal smell deeply and he felt himself strangely excited, although at the time he was confused by it. Then he spotted the barn door and could hear a single distinctive 'baa' from in there. He looked back and he could see his Uncle was too busy carefully applying moisturiser in front of the mirror in preparation for the shoot to notice what he was up to. He had slowly walked into the barn, his heart beating fast with the fear and excitement coursing through him.

"Did you hear me you fucking idiot? What the hell have we stopped here for? And what the fuck is wrong with that stupid sheep, why is it staring at us? What's going on?!" his mother yelled at him, interrupting his daydream and bringing him back to the present with a thud. Her Tourette's was getting worse, he noted to himself in a remote detached part of his brain.

The amber eyes blinked and it gave a soft 'baa', almost asking him to choose. He could see so clearly now. He made a decision. He took a deep breath and braced himself.

"Ammi, I have something to tell you. You're not going to like this." he almost whispered.

Over to Antimatter now.

Troll fodder

2009-01-16T11:53:00.004Z

I was accused (rather unfairly) of being 'loved-up Darwin' by Sach and RD. You see, I have not been a prolific blogger lately for two reasons; the main one being The Thesis - I feel like I should 'go underground', cut off all contact with humanity and just suffer and get through it for the next few months, else it simply won't get done. Another reason is that some of the other stuff going on in my life isn't really stuff I feel comfortable writing about, so I refrain. So in short, the lack of frequent posts has to do with lack of time and lack of suitable subject matter. It also feels pretty dumb to blog about why one is not blogging but I think I've already done that here. Oops.

Anyway something that has been getting my attention lately is the latest troll in the SL blogosphere. I won't link to him but he is known as The Maharajah of Bad - google it if you want. There have been a few reactionary posts to him, and even a few snide references here and there, and I sense a blog war developing. The last time we had so much drama was during the era of Ach, which prompted me to take the drastic step of removing myself entirely from the SL blog aggregator machine, including Kottu itself.

I don't like trolls because I don't see the point in their existence. They don't add any constructive criticism to a discussion and only exist to wind people up. But there is a rule about trolls that not many folk seem to be aware of; trolls exist on attention, so feeding the troll by reacting is encouraging it to exist. One thing that really annoys me after a bit is reading about people who whine about being trolled. If we had a positive troll, someone who read blog posts and then did a summary post pandering to the egos of the bloggers about how awesome their writing is, how insightful their commentary is, how witty their jokes are, I'm sure no one would object. It's human nature, we react negatively to negativity and that just ends up being a positive feedback loop with no end in sight. It is you, yes you, the folk who react to the troll that keeps the troll alive by fanning the flames. This is a topic that has been discussed many times, nearly flogged to death by RD on his posts about negativity being bad and all that, so it just tires me out to read that same reactionary whining about trolling all over again. It's fairly simple the way I see it;

Don't like the troll? Ignore the troll. If everyone ignores the troll, the troll will go away. Talking about it, writing about it, acknowledging it's existence only makes the troll stay. People don't change. Trolls will be trolls. So get over it. Reacting is counter productive. Got that? If you don't want negativity, if you don't want to see someone writing shit about others, don't react; it is only because of YOU that the troll stays alive.

Phew. Rant over. Darwin has spoken (yeah I had to do that).

Do you not have Brains in Scotland then?

2009-01-14T20:34:00.002Z

Scene: I am at a Japanese Restaurant with some people from the lab. I am sitting across from a Fat Ignorant Lab Technician (FILT), who I cannot stand for reasons you will understand shortly. The topic was chopsticks.

Me: Yeah I'm rubbish at using chopsticks, so I don't even bother anymore.
FILT: Do you not have chopsticks in Sri Lanka then?
Me: Huh? Well we do, in Chinese/Japanese restaurants. Same as it is over here.
FILT: Oh, so you don't use chopsticks for eating food normally then?
Me: No, why would we? (We're not fucking Chinese you dumb fucking cunt).
FILT: Oh ha ha, I don't know.

About an hour or so later we were just tucking in to dessert when the topic of dentist visits come up. You all know the background about that one. Someone else at the table remembers this and brings it up;

Someone else: Hey Darwin, didn't you have your first dentist visit last summer?
Me: Heh yeah, luckily enough I got the all clear from that!
FILT: Do you not have dentists in Sri Lanka then?
Me: HUH?! Why wouldn't we? Of course we have dentists!
FILT: Do your parents not go to the dentist then?
Me: (trying to keep cool) Of course they do. I just didn't want to go and they just never made me because I never had a problem with my teeth. Simple as that. (Now stop going on about it before I punch you in the face so you need a visit to the dentist yourself to extract your ugly fucking teeth from your stomach).

FILT is a dumb ignorant cow and I shouldn't get so irritated, but it's so hard not to! I'm particularly annoyed at my self because now that I am home, I can think of so many awesomely witty comebacks but at the time I was just too surprised that someone could be as retarded and ignorant and actually offensive (if I was the type to get all offended) as she was. What does she think SL is? A land of mud-hut dwellers who sit on their backsides and pick their noses all day? I think the next time I'm around her I'm going to feign ignorance about the simplest things and just take the piss out of her. It's the only way to deal with stupidity of such a scale.

Ok rant over.

Musing

2009-01-12T08:35:00.003Z

At the risk of sounding all mysterious and cryptic (which I will do, since this is not something I can openly blog about), 2009 isn't off to a good start. So far it's been all about change. And I don't like change. I like things to stay the same way for as long as possible and I resist change by clinging onto the past and I wax nostalgic about how great everything used to be. Heck, my degree of resisting change is so bad that I take at least a few months worth of prompting to update my iTunes or other software to the latest version.

This time I can't plan for the future because there are too many unknown components in it which are beyond my control. I know I need to simply dwell on the present and handle this, this problem for lack of a better word, a day at a time because there is no other way around it and if I try any other technique it just goes to shit. It's just sometimes easier said than done, and I get scared too. I don't have all the answers. I'm not sure if I am truly strong enough to handle something of this magnitude. And it's only going to get worse.

There are other aspects of the future which worries me as well. After October I can no longer hide behind the warm comfort of academia and I need to figure out the next step. But my options for the next step are limited by hereto unknown factors which are beyond my control (see above). So it's difficult to make plans, to figure out the bends in the road when you're not even sure if you'd be walking or not. I don't really know if I want to follow the inevitable path into doing a post-doc. The lack of job security is a big factor against this option, I'm not sure if I'll be okay with working someplace for short contracts ranging from 6months to two years or (five if I'm lucky) without any kind of assurance afterwards. And then there is the bigger question of if I want to hang around over here or go back home to SL. I've lived away from home since I started undergrad so I moved out when I was 19. It will be 7 years now since then, and SL is not the home it used to be. Moving back is not something I want to do, unless I have to. But staying here isn't really easy either, there are so many hoops covered in red tape to jump through when it comes to visas and work permits, and face it, I don't have any loyalty or sense of belonging to this country either.

One of the main reasons I started blogging was to vent when I needed to, and right now I guess that's what I'm doing. So I apologise if you came here looking for something funny or tasty to read, this is one of those serious posts where I just try to vent and feel better about the confusion and conflicted emotions of the past few weeks.

And yes, I do feel better. I'm just going to try and get on with things rather than over thinking everything and getting all emo. Because that's so damn girly and we all know I don't do girly.

Sign of times to come

2009-01-08T12:06:00.003Z

I don't usually jump in with my $0.02 worth of a situation, especially when it's about the politics and justice (or lack thereof) in SL. But really, sometimes the shit gets so bad that even my apathy can't keep up with it. WTF is going on? First a TV station gets burnt down and now the editor of a newspaper that was critical of the president gets assassinated. There's really something wrong with this picture. I hear constant reports about how we're 'winning' the war, and now uneasy unsettling stories like this about how the government is slowly but surely trying to control the media. We seem but one step away from an Orwellian thought-police state (or are we already there?) where people are too afraid to voice their opinions even on a blog post.

It really disturbs me. I don't know what exactly I can do about it except just say that this situation is pretty fucked up and that His Excellency the President doesn't seem to handle criticism too well. What's even scarier for me is that I'm sure there are folk in SL who feel the author of that editorial deserved to be shot and killed for being 'unpatriotic'. I hope me saying that won't mean I'll get shot in the head tomorrow too.

Choke

2008-12-29T10:43:00.003Z

Last Friday I went to a friend's flat for dinner. I took a cake I baked with me, a Dark Chocolate Mousse Cake (sorry no pics as I was in a rush making it, but I'll do a Domestic Goddess post soon!).

During dessert, I received the nicest compliment I've ever received about my cooking from my friend.

A bit of background - my friend had a nasty cold so his nose was all blocked up. He was breathing through his mouth as his airways were completely clogged up. After dinner we dug into my cake and the room went silent. "Okay, this is a good sign", I think to myself. After almost a minute the silence was interrupted by a choking gasping noise. We all look at my friend who sheepishly said "Sorry, this cake is so good I was too busy eating it, I forgot to breathe".

Yup, I almost killed someone with my cooking. Woohoo!

I'm not dead

2008-12-28T02:17:00.003Z

I'm just trying to start writing my thesis. It's so hard. I find so many other things so much more interesting. My room is like a playground, I am fascinated by the most mundane things. I have tried unplugging my ethernet cable so I can avoid compulsive Facebook/Google Reader/Gmail/CNN/New Scientist/XKCD/Jesus & Mo checking but I can't help it. ARGH!!

But no, I simply must. I have to. The thesis has turned into an ugly dark grey cloud that is hovering over my head, spoiling all the good times I'll be having. The only way I can keep it at bay is to attempt to write up just a little bit each day and hope that once it becomes a part of my routine and I get into the flow of it, it will get easier.

Till then, you might not see me blogging as much. Not because I'm writing my thesis but because my flawed logic says that if I can blog then I must also be available to write the thesis so if I don't blog then I don't have to write the thesis.

Procrastination

2008-12-22T14:53:00.004Z