Just Passing By

I know it's strange for me to like a McDonald's ad of all things, but this one's really quite clever - showing on UK screens at the moment. The use of the poetry makes McDonald's classy instead of cheap, and also cements the image of McDonald's being the food of the the people (rightly or wrongly, since I don't eat it very often...)

Ad campaign "Something for Everyone" by Leo Burnett, poem written and read by David Morrissey. The music is the opening track from the 1990 Anjelica Huston / John Cusack movie The Grifters, with the soundtrack composed by Elmer Bernstein - again, classy contradictory use of indie content for a very mainstream production.

Something for Everyo..
Watch the ad...

Something for Everyo..
Watch the ad...

X

I miss you.

Cannonball - Damien Rice

I know I should be blogging about the Tori concert, but before I go into that when time permits, just a short one (after a long absence) from me. I discovered this song again in the morning (random playlist I put on in the morning to keep doggie company) and it popped up. A long absence, the song in my ear, but one of those "what exactly is it?" moments. This song should go into the playlist of my life - and I'd like it to be played at my funeral, almost like a prayer.

Cannonball - Damien Rice
There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt
It's still a little hard to say what's going on

There's still a little bit of your ghost, your witness
There's still a little bit of your face I haven't kissed
You step a little closer each day
That I can't say what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to lie
Life, it taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball

There's still a little bit of your song in my ear
There's still a little bit of your words I long to hear
You step a little closer to me
So close that I can't see what's going on

Stones taught me to fly
Love, it taught me to cry
So come on courage, teach me to be shy
'Cos it's not hard to fall
And I don't want to scare her
It's not hard to fall
And I don't want to lose
It's not hard to grow
When you know that you just don't know...

The 7 Difference...

Was just going on the net to look for a free anti-virus software to put on the new computer since the old one isn't compatible with Windows 7 and I noticed that AVG is. Actually, I noticed how many softwares out there advertise their compatibility with Windows 7, and I almost had to stop and remind myself that it's not released to market yet. Funny but I didn't notice the same thing about Vista.

This, I believe, is the difference between Windows 7 and Windows Vista, and why I think 7 will be a success in the marketplace. Amidst all the hype which is plain ol' marketing, there is actually some good supporting technical details (the support of developers... not about the code) to suggest that it'll not flop like it's predecessor.

The only question on my mind is... are they really going to keep calling it 7?

Commitment to Simpler Living

I have to admit, recently I've been frequenting Life Hacking and decluttering websites, in an attempt to find happiness from a simpler life (and save money).

As a result, I've made the simple resolution that moving forward, I will not be accepting any object gifts from anyone - not for Christmas, birthdays, thank you's or any other special event.

The truth is, I'm an incredibly hard person to buy a gift for. And rather than accept items which eventually become clutter in the house (a thankless acceptance, unfortunately) I would rather live with what I have. Buy me a meal, a concert ticket, something that becomes a memory instead.

So now I have to go around announcing this to everyone. Thanks, Mum. Life is simple.

Philosophy of Spending

I know I haven't posted in a while. I'm in transit. Emotionally, geographically, and mentally.

Anyway, I wanted to capture this thought I caught while washing dishes in the kitchen sink. After a 2 hour long conversation with Mum that I developed my own philosophy of spending. (My mum can have that effect on me sometimes...) This will probably change my life, or at least, change how I see things. Then again, maybe not, maybe it's nothing different from how I saw things before.

I have now 3 defined rules for money well-spent against which I will assess all my purchases:

1. Money is well spent when it saves me time. Either immediately, or on products that are the outcome of significant time spent, time that I cannot spend myself. Examples are: medical expertise, a locksmith, house cleaning services, pseudo-instant food when I am hungry (up to a certain taste threshold).
2. Money is well spent when significant effort and heart is obviously placed into an object or service, effort or attention that I am either unable or unwilling to place. Examples are: A dinner at Heston Blumenthal's The Fat Duck, tickets to a play with actors that I really like, one-of-a-kind crafted bags at Greenwich market or Etsy.com, a book written by a favourite author, a concert with Tori Amos, organically farmed eggs and meat.
3. Money is not well spent when an object or service fits into a particular lifestyle, however sought after, that isn't mine. Examples are: Jamie Oliver's Flavour Shaker (what are jars for?), Le Creuset pots (I can't lift them, I can't use them), Louis Vuitton bags and wallets (mass-produced, expensive efforts to look like Japanese housewives)

I made the striking realization that actually, 95% of my purchases comply with the newly realized (not discovered) philosophy. My purchases rank pretty high, I suppose, on the purity scale.

What is value, after all? I find myself asking myself that a lot recently, especially after my job keeps telling me that we're all on the corporate hunt to create "value", as if "value" is another object to quantify and multiply. Is value that mysterious meme that once sown like a seed, sprouts its produce at the end of the fiscal cycle?

No, I think to find what "value" is, we first have to ask the Adam Smith of all economic questions, which is "Why do we trade?" Why do we buy, instead of do it ourselves? And textbook though that might be, we trade because it's either incredibly difficult or impossible for us to do or make what we're buying, or simply that it saves us time to buy rather than to DIY. So thinking in terms of units - units of my own blood, sweat and tears - do I work to gain back Time that I can spend on enjoying the little bit that I have left after work? Do I work to touch and reach an ephemeral craftmanship that I cannot in my little life aspire towards? Or do I work to fit into a lifestyle in which I do not currently live?

Many people fall for #3 I think. Which is, in thinking about it, wanting to spend wealth on the appearance of being wealthy. An effort to make a statement about having arrived whilst still travelling to the destination.

And I suspect, though I am not there yet, having spoken to everyone who are (apparently) already there - that the fun really is in the journey.

[Ed: I do have to add one more rule, because this falls somewhere between the cracks, and yet is important - Money is also well-spent when it enables another to either save time, or frees up heart/effort into a cause that resonates with you. Examples are: charities that we care for, gifts to friends and family and other gestures of altruism.

Sometimes, the "value" that we are apparently all in search of (says the corporate world) does not stop with the value we generate for ourselves. As I read in an obscure article in one of the back-pages of a back-issue of The Economist - we live in an interdependent world, where through a network of interactions, a positive energy can ripple back to benefit ourselves. Not, of course, that it is why we do what we do.

One Artist

Since using Tori Amos on Facebook was a lack of a challenge, I’m going to try this again... with someone else I know less songs of.

 

The Challenge: Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions.  Try not to repeat a song title. It's a lot harder than you think.

Name of Artist:
Sarah McLachlan

Are you male or female:
Perfect Girl

Describe yourself:
Angel

How do you feel about yourself:
Building a Mystery

Describe where you currently live:
The Path of Thorns

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

Your favorite form of transportation:
Train Wreck

Your best friend is:
Time

Your favorite color is:
Blackbird

What's the weather like:
Song for a Winter’s Night

Favorite time of day:
Silent Night

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
I Will Remember You

What is life to you:
Full of Grace

What is the best advice you have to give:
Wear Your Love Like Heaven

If you could change your name, what would it be:
Adia

Your favorite food is:
Ice Cream

Thought for the Day:
Don’t Give Up on Us

How I would like to die:
Into the Fire

 

Embarcacao: At Long Last

As testament to the power of YouTube and the internet, the lyrics of Embarcacao surfaced... The actual text seem very in line with the song, although I'm not sure about the translation but in the absence of someone who might speak Cape Verdean (hope my Brazilian friend can help somewhat as it's closely related to Portuguese for some words...) I can at least try to guess at the words.

EMBARCAÇÃO (BOAT)
Texte de Teofilo Chantre (translation: trol1976trol
from YouTube)

Ai, ness mundo ca tem sô sofrimento
There's not only suffering in the world
Ma naquel olhar cheio di mágoa
Looking into these sad eyes
Modê crê tão cedo na felecidade
But how can you believe in happiness
Tcheu titá fogá na solidão
That drown in tears alone

Ma na embarcação quta levá nôs vida
On the boat of our fate
Um bom timonero nô ta desejá, pa guiá-no
We need a skilled helmsman
Na temporal nô ta reá vela
Who will manage to pull down the sails on time
Pa nô ca perdê na profundeza dum amargura
And break us away from the embrace of starving waves of
despair

Terra longe à vista é um doce promessa
Probably the far off desired land
Ma qui ta desfazê nindiferença
Will be the usual broken promise
Um sonho nascê na porto dilusão
Because dreams are born in the haven of illusion
Fgi pa longe parcê um solução
From which something keeps on chasing us away to the sea (Ed: Far from
a solution?)
Ma na rota incerta di nôs destino
Our future is an unknown course (Ed: My route has an uncertain
destination)
Nô ta pô esperança num brisa mansa e constante
(Ed: In you, I hope for a tame and constant breeze)

Pintchi vela dnôs existencia
But your wind, blow into the sails (Ed: ... candle...
existence)
E na paz levá, assim, nôs nau
(Ed: Taking peace in the vessel?) And lead our boat
Pum horizonte cheio di luz e bonança
Towards the horizon with peaceful and bright shores (Ed: And lead
out boat towards the horizon of light and tranquility) although not yet
visible

Pintchi vela dnôs existencia
E na paz levá, assim, nôs nau
Pum horizonte di luz e bonança

Here's How Your Name Sounds Like... ToneMatrix

ToneMatrix: Simple sinewave synthesizer triggered by an ordinary 16step
sequencer. Each triggered step causes a force on the underlaying wave-map, which makes it more
cute.

And if you spell your name on the grid, you get very interesting results... I loved how "elly" sounded. Thanks to Nomad'y for sharing...

A Game of You

If I could offer one nugget of wisdom that I've learnt so far, the kind that dawns on you at 3am in the morning, the kind that makes sense passing on to your kids - it would be that Life is like a chess game that you play with yourself, and one that is best played strategically.

It dawned on me (as these thoughts do, while I was doing the dishes) that the reason why my parents loved telling me as a child about what they felt I should do with my life, was because as time passes, and the more decisions you made, the more locked into your decisions you are. That certain doors opened close many others for good. That children never realize the severity of how locked in people become as time passes, because for them, having made few decisions of import in their lives, all doors are open, all pages are blank, all possibilities endless. And as humans, we instinctively draw on 20/20 hindsight, and the irrepressible desire to turn back time and re-write our histories.

This doesn't mean I condone parents attempting to make decisions for their kids - their pages are written, let their kids write their own - but that I now understand the human spectator instinct to look upon the life of another and desire to signpost the here-be-dragons in front of some doors, and document through stories and shared experience the folklore of doors that will close when others are opened.

It would be great if we all had that special ability that Nicholas Cage had in "Next", when he could explore the next few seconds of every possibility in his life before making a move. A genius ex of mine once tried to tell me that life had to be played strategically, and I think I ran, screaming, in the opposite direction. The thought was horrifying, that you should pick your job, your degree, your spouse... strategically. What about personal desire? What about love? What about following your heart?

And ten years later (OK, so I'm a slow burner in the thought process on this one...) I realise that he is right. It's not exactly a bleak thought. In the game of chess, some people find themselves able to play to win without certain pieces. Some neglect their bishops. Others give up their knights quickly, never quite understanding the subtlety of the sideways movements of the piece, but would fight to the death before they lose their rooks. In the strategic game of chess as life, the only strategy worth pursuing, after all, is towards the goal of winning the game as you define in.

What about love? What about following your heart, or your mind? What does capturing your opponent's king look like? And what about destiny? Do those that believe in fate see only one side of the game being played, the side that is being played against them?

I've realised that I've inadvertently castled my king early on without really understanding why I'd want to do that, that I've lost many pawns, would fight to the death before I give up my queen, and have sent knights to the slaughter. I've learnt that by playing a game of chess with someone, you can not only learn a lot about the inner workings of their mind, whether they know it or not, but also about yourself. It's a meditation, not a game of win or lose.

Each piece has it's purpose, it's meaning, it's place.

• The King is the point of the game, the meaning of life. But you define what the point of the game is.
• The Queen is intellect and intelligence. It's power, of mind, of spirit, of personality.
• The Knights are relationships and emotion, they are subtle, not straightforward, potentially difficult to control or understand.
• The Bishops are cunning, politics, manipulation - moving sideways to get at what you want. They're necessary, and everywhere. They are likely to blind-side you when you least expect it, but turn up anyway.
• The Rooks are force of power, anger or brute force, direct and honest. They work opposite to the bishops, and are still a force to be reckoned with.
• The Pawns are the waypoints and milestones - the individual certificates, degrees and job choices we put forward, hopefully to get us to where we want to go. They are marriage and children, family and friends.

If your glass is half-empty, you might say that no matter how you play it, you'll never win. If your glass is half-full, you might say that regardless whether black or white wins, in the game you play with yourself, you will end up picking the winning side.

Fences: The Desktop Neatening Tool!

Windows without walls... but life is better with fences.

This is desktop neatening at it's prettiest and at it's best!

Really Deep Thoughts... (or not)

While we're on the topic, this is what keeps me up at night (all the real work I do thinking I do either when in the shower or when washing dishes).

Why are plates mostly round?
Do goldfish have friends if they remember only 5 minutes of their lives at a time?Who named the seasons Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter?
What happens to clothes nobody wants to wear when you recycle them?
Why does ice freeze white and not other colours when water is transparent? Does that mean white is the ultimate colour?
What time did Christ really die? Is it really at 3pm when Good Friday mass times usually are?
How do people know that Christ died on a Friday and rose on a Sunday? Isn't the third day technically Monday?
What does Easter mean?
Why do we never see black flowers but see black/dark brown trees and wood?
Do dogs not dream of chasing rabbits, eating pie and other naughty things when they dream?
Who decided that Saturday and Sunday were to be commonly accepted weekends? Why not Friday and Saturday in some countries as is normal, or Sunday and Monday?
Why did we end up using visual as our primary sense when our sight isn't actually really that good?

"How Happy" Part 2

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
-- Alexander Pope, "Eloisa to Aberlard"

How odd that of all posts on the blog, not that many of them are of any real value, this is the most read, most commented post! How... curious.

I wonder if there are that many of us searching for innocence (since it can't be that the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was that big a movie hit starring Jim Carrey...) that we cease to find what makes us happy, and content ourselves only with the pleasure of the search?

If it is indeed true that ignorance is bliss (a short form translation of Alexander Pope's sarcasm in all it's glory) then are we truly seeking bliss through ignorance? I cannot allow myself to believe that. I would rather search for something than nothing - I would be first to admit that I believe in a Greater Being (let's codename that "God") because to believe in nothing at all is a dismal, bleak, meaningless prospect.

I am of the viewpoint that 3 year olds and very clever, wise people have one thing in common - they know how to ask a simple question: "Why?" (The value of this has nothing to do with the capacity to drive parents nuts with one word... over-ridden only by the power of another word, "No", with more punch per alphabet value, but barely...)

That eternal sunshine of the spotless mind must come down like the tropical climate of the Seychelles - somewhere very few people are, where very many people want to go.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot? On my part, I think I'd like to meet someone who doesn't like beach holidays. Someone who thinks having nothing to do and drinking pina coladas all day sounds like the perfect idea of torture. I'd love to meet someone with an eternal snowstorm of a curious mind. Someone who wakes me up at 2am in the morning with strange musings (like: do goldfish have friends if they remember only 5 minutes of their lives at a time?) that keep me up at night staring at the stars.

What is the weirdest thing you've ever wondered about? Were you happy thinking about them? Or did you put it away, in your saving-up-for-a-holiday-box, to bring yourself back to more practical matters?

The Narnia Code

Every now and then, I come across something that wakes up a part of me that's gone to sleep. Today was one such moment. I'd stumbled across The Narnia Code, a BBC documentary about Michael Ward, who'd made what would probably be termed as one of the most fascinating literary discoveries in recent history. I'd daresay it was compelling, and also the type of discovery to catch on faster than a new Robert Frost poem, thanks to the huge movie'ability of the Narnia Chronicles.

I've not read all 7 books of the Narnia Chronicles, I must admit. Or at least, although I can remember reading the full Lord of the Rings twice over as a kid, I remember only vague snippets of the Narnia Chronicles. I feel sure that I was fed the kind of literary diet as a child that would not have missed out these books, but at the same time, it joined the childhood stream of consciousness together with Sandman graphic novels, Norse mythology, Aesop's fables and other odd bits and pieces of information-that-nobody-knows-much-of-anymore.

So imagine my pleasant surprise coming across this documentary and learning that a secret, "third layer" of CS Lewis's subtle plan in the Narnia Chronicles was drawn from precisely the "stream of consciousness" that once made up common knowledge of people before CS Lewis's time.

Do I agree with CS Lewis? Yes, I do. Whole-heartedly. And why not? His ideas are so much more seductive, so much more enticing than the alternatives that I'm presented with by modern science and modern fact.

Watch the documentary - it's a not-so-long download on cable, and for a 250mb wait, if it sparks in you a wanting to believe, if it gives you something else to look forward to besides the end of the weekend - then it would have been worth the while.

(If Wei Chean could watch this documentary, I think she would be very edified in her long held love of CS Lewis's work.)

Incredulous
Upon watching The Narnia Code, a documentary on Planet Narnia by Michael Ward on CS Lewis's unifying theme of the seven mythological planets in his Narnia Chronicles.

Someone told me something I already knew, and had forgotten.
I know you are not the universe.
The universe is matter and mechanism, materialism,
The physical - you held me in your arms, I knew
You held a body, not a self, a discarded image
Of surreal to real, dreams to dust.

No longer do we share intimately a knowledge of the ties that bind
Us, universally drawing you from you, me from me,
That Tuesday was for war, and Friday for love,
That we know more than we know, and remember more than fact.
If it's only untrue, but beautiful, then tell me lies,
I want my sky lit with more than coloured dust.

I'd forgotten that Hope was not reserved for children, and
Dreams for courage and fairytales, that a book could lift
A mind beyond what was possible - we should all read -
And my heart would dare to think, that
I could look upon the stars and see a being
Far greater than you or I. Imagine that.

Almost Free Music from Spotify!

Sometimes living in the UK has benefits. One of these is Spotify, a free music player that has just launched in the UK (and not some other places I know heheh).

If you thought Last.fm was cool, until it started to stop sharing the music that you searched on - and you switched to Deezer which did the same thing until it fell to the Dark Side of hideous ads and pulled out music - then Spotify is the next best thing.

Log in, search for plenty of music which streams instantly, it's apparently ad driven but I haven't heard or seen an ad so far and it's been 6 songs in. Happy with that.

Love the iTunes like interface, creation of play lists using drag and drop technology, recommended artists, quick, light-footed search and play interface. Great for samplers (in full), for falling in love with songs before the final purchase, for music that accompanies evocations, blogs, surfing, coffee... pretty much anything, really.

I now need an effortless, audiophilic sound system hooked up to my laptop.

How to Peel Garlic

It says something dramatic about the recent state of my being that my latest, greatest scientific, geeky breakthrough was to figure out how to peel garlic efficiently in a way that hasn't been explored on the internet.

This is no small matter. Google can and will tell you (usually) everything that you need to know. From the best way to cure a hangover to how to iron a shirt. God knows everything that I've learnt in life, I've learnt from a search engine.

That said, Google probably doesn't tell you the most efficient way of doing things. It will get by, suffice, get you through the day, but the best thing about a search engine is to prove the case that life's teacher doesn't get better than trial and error and experimentation, the best loved (and most fun) way of "taking it apart to find out how it works".

Most "How to Peel Garlic" guides online in a quick and easy way tell you to smash down hard on a clove of garlic with 1) a cleaver, 2) a large frying pan, 3) your boyfriend's flat side of the head... but all of these methods get the cleaver/frying pan/boyfriend's said cheek etc. unnecessarily dirty. Some clever guides also recommend the garlic peeler, which really works (I have one) which is an unnecessarily expensive tube of silicone'y rubber in which you put the garlic clove, roll on a work top, and presto, the garlic clove pops out of the tube after some satisfyingly crunchy sounds. It does work, albeit being overtly expensive for something that just peels garlic, but only works for larger, rounder cloves of garlic.

Enter my method for peeling garlic, which works for smaller cloves too: Hold the garlic clove at the ends with the thumb and forefinger of both hands. Twist in opposite directions to hear a satisfying crunching sound as the delicate papery skin of the garlic breaks and separates from the clove. Pull with thumb and forefinger of both hands in opposite directions and watch that paper skin fall away.

Why does it work? The garlic clove inside the skin is far softer and more pliable than the paper skin that contains it. By flexing the clove, you break the contact of the skin with the clove, which creates a space between the skin and clove that "peels" it for you.

Oh, and not only is this quick, but you get a whole clove intact. Unlike the fast, smash 'em up version.

February Snow

First day of work back from a warm vacation and it's blanketed by a white layer of fluffy snow. It's been the coldest yet for the UK in over a decade, with the heaviest snowfall in around 18 years. In the meantime, the dog came back with a cold and is sneezing, and so am I.

But I'm welcoming the white. For the first time I've been in this part of England, there is a thick 4" of snow on the ground, and more is still falling. Continuously. Previous experiences have always been with a disappointing touch of icing that melts faster than you can say "it's snowing!".

There's something powerfully cathartic about the vision of delicate white flakes indiscriminately covering everything that it falls upon with a smooth, white layer. It speaks of the power of the small in the resilience of one or two flakes persisting at the end of a branch, but also of the power of the collective, in the blanketing force that snow becomes over a blue car, a red berry, the asphalt ground, the green fields. Every colour converted to white in a resistance is futile kind of way.

The snow falls like a meme, an idea. A single flake at first, tossing and flicking in one general direction. And then another, in a slightly different direction. Then another, and another, and before long, a series of snowflakes, some catching on each other as they fall, gaining weight, gaining strength.

The half-pleasure, half-guilt of leaving footprints in the snow where no foot had trod before is soon forgiven as the new snow delicately dab away at the traces of my weight upon the white. No postman or milkman has walked today up the driveway to leave a set of heavy shoeprints upon the ground. No one will disturb the pristine levelling of the ground today, I am willing the snow to disappear as softly as it came, in the shade of a tree or a roof.

If colours mean something, and white often means purity, cleanliness, sometimes death or defeat... if only for the snow scene, white must surely to me mean redemption and force.

As colours go, white is the only colour that in nature dominates all other colours, like it or not. The only colour that can say, "Well, be whatever colour you want to be, but when it's my time, I will surpass you, exceed you, blank you out and become the colour that you will wear, regardless of the colour you are inside." Royalty may wear yellow to be like the sun, and purple to be of noble birth. In my world, royalty will wear white - the all encompassing, all dominating colour. It is the unassuming, yet celebratory colour, the colour that says "in my time I will colour everything else across the world with my shade". And I think, quite possibly, because of the prevalence of snow and cloud, it is the single most frequently occurring colour in nature.