Tinker, Tailor

Excuse me while I go reconfigure my brain.

Don’t be too surprised if you don’t know me anymore.

ὁ ὅλος νύξ ἐδάκρυσα, καὶ ἐδάκρυσω ἀδιαλείπτως.

Update: I better clarify this upfront - I’m writing as a woman here.

* * * * *

“Aren’t you gonna give me a hug?”

It’s hard to resist, especially when I’m looking into those soulful eyes. Maybe I should - he really needs it. I guess I need it too.

It always feels comforting clinging tightly onto him, leaning on his wide chest, feeling his arms wrap firmly but gently around me, as I catch a bit of his distinct scent…

“Instinct,” I tried to tell him the other time, “it’s just instinct.”

But instinct wasn’t good enough for him, for he was one who needed to understand why, and instinct was too fuzzy, too nebulous, too misty an explanation for that penetrating mind of his.

Maybe he was just too serious. Too passionate, too intense, even for someone like me.

Or perhaps, I’m too afraid to lose him, the way I lost the others because those relationships didn’t quite work out. No, I cannot lose him. He’s the only one who’s come so close, who really understands me, whom I can really connect with. I must not lose him…

“Your train is here,” I whisper, releasing my hold as the train approached.

“The next one,” he says with finality.

I don’t mind at all, so I cling on again.

After so many tumultous weeks, it finally looks like he’s accepted the fact that it was not to be. Or shall I say, he’s resigned to that fact.

I still see the resignation in those tear-brimmed eyes, the intense disappointment choking his forlorn soul, when it finally sunk in that I would never, ever, ever, be in a romantic relationship with him. I had to assure him that I love him deeply as a friend, but never romantically, and he had to give it up. I suppose it was my repeated insistence that finally convinced him, since he couldn’t take instinct as a valid reason.

Today marks a new chapter in our lives, now that things are finally clear to him. Those 2 difficult hours at our favourite Italian cafe just now were certainly worth the pain. We can finally be the closest and bestest of friends, without the complications of a romantic relationship…

It feels good as he stealthily draws a breath through my hair. He likes the scent of my hair, but he’s just too shy to admit it, just as I won’t admit my secret delight in him inhaling me in…

“Please stand behind the yellow line,” the familiar recoded female voice sounds throughout the station.

A train is approaching. I need to go.

It’s hard to push him away, even gently, as I know he doesn’t want to go. But I know he’s a man of his word - the next train is here, and he will go.

“Your train is here, and I have to go,” I glance at my watch, “it’s almost 4:30.”

It hurts to see those eyes brimming with tears, and I know mine will soon follow.

“Goodbye.”

He must be too emotional to respond.

It doesn’t matter. I have to go. Fast. Don’t think. Can’t let him see me tearing. Don’t look back. Keep walking. He’ll be ok, I’m sure. He’ll be ok…

But I look back, when the screams of a woman and the squeal of the train hits my ears.

And I see those soulful eyes again, looking back at me, just as the train hits him.

I scream out loud.

So loud, that it wakes me up.

It’s 4:30am, but I doubt I can get back to sleep.

I hope he’s ok.

* * * * *

Fiction. Obviously.

* * * * *

I’m writing as a woman, in case you’re still wondering.
And I’ve done it such that there are many gaps in the story for your mind to fill in.
Tell me if it works, or which parts you don’t get.

* * * * *

update:
mis_nomer tries her hand at writing a similar story, but as a guy.

pilfered from Indrani’s cool flickr collection of signs in Singapore.

I think it’s cool, don’t know about you.

update: this particular sign is from Amsterdam.

The Scarlet Letters has some good advice on the creative process in making art:

Don’t even bother “fixing” pieces. Making art shouldn’t be a struggle. You’re simply “thinking out loud” onto the page, photo-paper, or canvas. If a product seems confused, leave it confused. Make another piece where you contemplate whatever issues you were wrestling with. Try something different. When clarity arrives, it will come in one living piece — not be Frankensteined together out of a single infinitely re-worked, mangled corpse.

I could do with some of this advice.

I’m the blogger who never blogs the same meme twice.

I’m the blogger who doesn’t neef a spell cheker.

I’m the blogger who blog grammatically. In complete sentence.

I’m the blogger who never write in Singrish, wait people see me no up how? Sibei malu leh, because hor, my Engrish actually got standard one leh…

I’m the blogger who writes, you know, coherently, as though, I mean, like it’s like more, like I’m clearer and all, you see, it’s like easier, so much more, much easier, like, better also, you know, understand and all, others can understand, I mean people get it, like what I’m writing.

I’m the blogger who never rambles, because I know that once you ramble, you start to get boring, and readers slowly but surely lose interest in what you’re blogging about, and will find it difficult or even impossible to follow your increasingly lengthy train of thought, which has probably derailed when you start to ramble, otherwise you wouldn’t be rambling in the first place, and you probably would have forgotten why you started in the first place, and you may start to become repetitious, which gets boring, and readers slowly but surely lose interest in what you’re blogging about, and will find it difficult or even impossible to follow your increasingly lengthy train of thought… uhmm… where was I?

I’m the blogger who does not see the need to use f*cking strong language.

I’m the blogger who is way too busy to write silly stuff.

I’m the blogger who completes everything I

Adding Your Voice to the Conversation. Why CEOs Should Blog

Because blogging is a continuously evolving medium, it is unpredictable. The risks of blogging—of being harassed in comments, embarrassed by errors and miscommunication, even being fired—have been well demonstrated in real-life scenarios for a few years now. Blogging’s blemishes are worth examining, but not worth losing sleep over, according to executive bloggers with a passion for posting. With unpredictability comes risk, but it also brings edginess and excitement that connects with readers.

via Scobleizer.

For a CEO to have a successful blog, the company must be ready for or already transparent (see my review on the Naked Corporation), otherwise it’ll just become a joke or a PR disaster.

When I become the CEO (hurhurhur), I’d be blogging!

Alice: Hey Bob when’s the concert supposed to be?

Bob: *glances at watch* oh it’s next Thursday…

For some reason, many of us have to glance at our watches whenever we’re recalling time-based information (day, date, time, etc.).

There was this period when I was rather miffed at myself for doing this, since I wasn’t trying to tell the current time - the glance was only a split second, and I didn’t even try to read what my watch face showed.

But somehow, the glancing act helped me recall that bit of information.

There were a few times when I programmed myself not to watch-glance when someone asked me for time-related information.

Blank. Mental block.

I’m not sure if the block was there because I didn’t watch-glance, or because of my active resistance to that strong urge to watch-glance.

Under time pressure, I’d just give in and watch-glance, instantly unblocking my mind. At other times, I’d resist, and it takes a few seconds before the information comes back to me.

And I’m sure I’m not alone in this.

I wonder if neuroscience or psychology has something to say about this.

Last night, I felt like superman - hitting wicked jumpers, making nasty slashing layups, eye-popping alley-oops, ripping down rebounds, dishing out magical assists, rejecting anyone who dared shoot near me, multiple steals - no one could do anything to stop me.

This morning, I couldn’t move.

I’m the blogger who isn’t into memes. But who joins in anyway sometimes. And regrets almost immediately because there’s nothing much to write if nothing much is to be revealed. But decides it’s worth trying anyway.

I’m the blogger who blogs at too many blogs, like some people have too many cars, except that I have none.

I’m the kid who likes to draw cars. And doesn’t talk very much.

I’m the child who is too bitter. And doesn’t want to talk about it.

I’m the student who doesn’t pay attention in class, because you’re less interesting than the Little Drummer Girl under my table, that is, until you make a mistake in your lesson, on which I will immediately and ravenously pounce upon and rip apart until you have no choice but to admit it.

I’m the student who doesn’t do homework, whom you make to stand outside the class (or sometimes in class, on the table), who flunks too many tests, but who, after you give up on me, still finishes fine for the finals.

I’m the recruit who has a serious attitude problem, who has to do more push-ups than everyone else, who gets confined more than anyone else in the company, who doesn’t seem to recognise the insignia on your uniform, and dares to question you and make you look like the fool you really are.

I’m the unwilling soldier who has to be promoted because the system gives no choice, whom you wonder why I’m not an officer (are you nuts?), who refuses to believe in the “platoon integrity” baloney, and never really fit in with the rest of the platoon, but will help you anyway.

I’m the classmate who doesn’t like to study, and if I do, I study the ‘wrong’ things. I’m the classmate whom you want in your group, yet you regret when it happens, because I always have the whackiest ideas. But then you still want me in anyway because you know I’m ready to mow down the other groups during presentation the way I mowed down Dr Wong during lecture. I’m the classmate who is always happy to let you look at (and copy, if you want) my assignment, but you eventually stop asking because mine’s just too different.

I’m the classmate who eventually disappears, and you still don’t understand why, even though I have told you many times already, because you know what a geek I really am.

I’m the geek who always has a book nearby. I’m the geek who reads code at bedtime, who goes into ecstacy when the code bug is quashed, with 0 errors returned.

I’m the hacker who loves computers and the internet. Who finds out your Hotmail password, but comes away disappointed, because it’s a lovey-dovey phrase with your boyfriend’s name in there.

I’m the hacker who doesn’t hack technology anymore. Who prefers to hack minds. Especially my own.

I’m the jock who plays a lazy game, because I know I don’t need to play any harder.

I’m the jock who plays a crazy game. Even though my face is bleeding because you scratched me, and I’m limping because I’ve just sprained my right ankle, but it still doesn’t mean you get to shoot the ball.

I’m the geek who reads too much (every day?), maybe because I started too late; and reads too widely (from sports to philosophy), because I want to know too much; and reads too much weird stuff (ancient texts?), because… I’m just weird?

I’m the man who falls for you, because, I’m the man you want to love, because, really,

I’m the boy who falls for you, because, I’m the boy you want to love, because, really,

I’m the girl who listens and tries to understand you, and connects with you, and doesn’t mind your girly talk with your other girlfriends, or your whining and bitching over the phone, or even going shopping with you, because, I actually find it interesting.

I’m the one who knows myself more than you know yourself. I’m the one who knows you more than you know yourself. I’m the one who knows myself, and knows what I don’t know about myself, and… I don’t know myself.

I’m the one who thinks that you think you know me.

I’m the one.

But not the one you know.

Is love an extreme form of like?
Or is it another thing altogether?

From a recent MSN chat.

Welcome, d. and m., to blogosphere.

I don’t know m. that well - only spoken to her on a few occasions, but I’ve had many an intellectual conversation (and sometimes debate) with d. I’m expecting good stuff from his blog.

update: I think I spent a good number of sessions discussing blogs with d., getting him to understand the blogging psyche. Glad that he’s finally crossed the rubicon.

(From The Math Gene, which I recently reviewed.)

Chinese and Japanese kids consistently outperform their American and European counterparts in mathematical tests. Besides cultural and school system differences, language seems to play a part in the disparity.

Doing arithmetic, and in particular learning multiplication tables, is simply easier for Chinese and Japanese children, because their number words are shorter and simpler…

I’m glad that my mom made me memorise the multiplication table in Chinese as a kid. I still remember those tormented days going “二一二, 二二四, 二三六, 二四八… ”

There’s more:

The grammatical rules for building up number words in Chinese and Japanese are also much easier than in English or other European languages. For instance, the Chinese rule for making words for numbers past ten is simple: 11 is ten one, 12 is ten two, 13 is ten three, and so on, up to two ten for 20, two ten one for 21 […]. Think how much more complicated is the English system […]. A recent study by Kevin Miller showed that language differences cause English-speaking children to lag a whole year behind their Chinese counterparts in learning to count.

Last and certainly not least,

In addition to being easier to learn, the Chinese number word system also makes elementary arithmetic easier, because the language rules closely follow the base-10 structure of the Arabic system.

On a somewhat coincidental note, I happen to be reading a book on Chinese grammar. Not sure if I’ll ever finish it though - grammars aren’t always the most exciting bedtime material…

Time waits for no man, but women can take their time.

I’m sure a lot of women believe this already. No, I don’t have anyone or any particular incident in mind. It just popped into my head.

But then again, it reminds me of a meeting that I had today, scheduled at 3.30pm. The guys were there more or less on time; the ladies woke up around 3.30pm.

Oh well.

No, there’s no gene for mathematics per se, and the author Keith Devlin admits it freely in the Math Gene, but he does argue that we have a genetic predisposition and an innate facility for mathematics, just like we have for language (see Steve Pinker’s excellent The Language Instinct).

The book’s subtitle is much more descriptive: How Mathematical Thinking Evolved and Why Numbers Are Like Gossip.

I can’t remember exactly what convinced me to read this book, but I suppose it’s the comments on the back cover, such as these:

… Compulsory (and compulsive) reading for anyone who loves math - and anyone who hates it…
- Ian Stewart

For a long time I suspected there was some connection between our ability to do math and our possesion of language. Now that connection is made dazzlingly clear…
- Derek Bickerton

Very hard to resist, particularly for someone like me who loves books that combine or relate 2 or more different fields together.

The book starts off talking about math, going into some of the foundations of numbers, counting, and math itself, and takes pains to correct many myths and misconceptions about mathematics and mathematicians, like

• Mathematicians have a good head for figures. (Some do, some don’t.)
• Mathematicians like adding up long columns of numbers in their head. (Surely, no one likes this.)
[…]
• Mathematicians are not creative. (If you believe this, you certainly don’t know what mathematics is about.)
• There is no such thing as beauty in mathematics. (Philistine!)
• Mathematics is predictable. If involves following precise rules. (Like music, drama, sculpture, painting, writing novels, chess, and football?)
• In mathematics, there is always a right answer. (And it’s in the back of the book.)

He likes messing with your mind too:

Quick, what is 8 times 7? It’s 54, right?
Or is it 64? Or 56, perhaps? If you are like most people, each of these answers seems “reasonable.” Why is it that, despite hours of drill in elementary school, most of us have so much trouble with our multiplication table?

As expected, a good part of the book talks about language and linguistics (structure, syntax, etc.), and theories on how the human brain evolved and developed for language.

And how mathematical ability is essentially another use of our language ability - the central point of this book.

* * * * *

Even if you don’t agree with the author’s central point or his arguments leading up to it, I think this book is worth reading as it covers good ground on both mathematics and linguistics, with loads of interesting tidbits, some of which I hope to mention in the future posts. Check the trackbacks.

Wait a minute, you might ask, is postmodernism a bad thing in the first place?

This debate has raged on a long time, so I won’t go into it. But it’s quite obvious from the title that I’m not exactly a fan of postmodernism. In fact, I happen to think that postmodernism is just a passing fad that will fade off or morph into something else in a few decades…

Anyway, that didn’t keep me from playing devil’s advocate on myself on the way home just now, trying to come up with ways in which postmodernist thinking has had a positive influence on us.

Here we go. Postmodernist thinking can encourage:
- open-mindedness
- tolerance and respect
- different viewpoints
- empathy
- creativity

I’m too lazy to elaborate.

Update: Someone reminded me that I forgot an important point. How could I. It’s now #9.

If you’re male and the blogger is female…

1. Read her blog religiously, at least once a day. Subscribing to her blog RSS feed will be very useful, especially if you have multiple targets.

2. Find out as much as you can about her, especially her likes and dislikes. This will come naturally if you follow step 1. If you have a poor memory, or if you’re tracking multiple targets, an Excel spreadsheet might come in handy.

3. Do research on the things she likes. If she likes cats, borrow books on cats, subscribe to cat blogs, visit the pet shop and talk to the shop owner about rearing cats, etc. Tip: when a female blogger says she likes cats, you can safely assume that she does not like cat meat. Avoid any mention of cat meat, unless it’s in a very negative light.

4. Start your own blog if you don’t already have one. It should at least be marginally interesting. Since you should be doing research on her interest areas by now, it wouldn’t harm mentioning some interesting bits you’ve learnt. Like “oh I just found out today that cats have a third eyelid!”

5. Comment on her blog every now and then. She needs to know that you exist. And who doesn’t like a comment or two on their blog?

6. Link her on your blogroll. She needs to know that you’re not ashamed to let the world know that you appreciate her blog, no matter how bimbotic it is.

7. Comment on her blog often. In other words, comment on every single one of her posts.

8. Blog about her or her blog. Flattery is essential, but be careful to sound sincere. Comments like “she is prettier/writes better than xiaxue” usually does the trick. If you’re lucky, she will leave a comment on your blog, or even mention that post in her own blog. Who knows, you might find your blog on her blogroll!

9. Submit her blog post to Tomorrow.sg, and pray that the editors will approve it. If it gets published, she will know without a doubt that you view her blog with such great esteem that you even deem it worthy to be Tomorrowed. Remember to be logged on when you submit, or she wouldn’t know that you’re the Anonymous Coward (who wants to date a coward anyway). Also, exercise some discretion - if she’s a scholar making racist comments living in a mansion at the heart of Orchard Road and she got dumped by her boyfriend because he made her pregnant, you might want to move on to the next step. Tip: As a Tomorrow.sg editor, I suggest that the posts you submit had better be good ones, otherwise you’d just be wasting your effort, and all the Tomorrow.sg editors will know what a pathetic loser you are (trust me, people are actually attempting this).

10. Pop her an email. Be friendly, but do not ask for a date yet! You have come a long way by now; the last thing you want to do is to scare her away. You probably need an excuse to send the email, like “hey I think I saw you at the pet store the other day, but I wasn’t sure…”

11. Have an email conversation with her. This should be easy, provided she replies your first email.

12. Ask for her MSN. This is the next logical step after email. You may want to change your MSN avatar to a cat.

13. Chat with her on MSN. Chat about common interests, like cats. Get to know about her even more. Keep google, dictionary.com and wikipedia on standby:

you: so what other interests do you have, besides cats?

her: i like classical music

you: oh me too! who’s your fav composer?

her: probably bach

Type “bach” in google and wikipedia.

you: ooooh bach is totally brilliant!!!

her: yes he is!!!

you: hey i gtg… tummy ache.. talk to you later?

Of course, you now have to do research on classical music (especially Bach), in addition to your cat research.

14. Send her your picture if she asks for it. This is a very good sign, because she might just be considering meeting you, if you’re not too hideous. If she doesn’t ask for your picture, don’t force it on her; gently hint to her that you want to show her your picture (”have you ever wondered about how I look?”). You should be fully-clothed in the picture.

15. Ask for her number, assuming that she’s still chatting with you after you sent her the picture.

16. SMS her every now and then. Keep chatting if she responds. If not, an SMS every few days is enough, so that you’ll be seen as a friend, and not as an annoyance.

17. Call her. If she’s happy to chat on the phone, you’re almost there.

18. Ask for a date. By now, she should be ready for the date. In the unlikely event that she refuses to meet you, move on to your next target. Pray that your next target likes cats and Bach, so you’ll have less homework to do.

If you’re female and the blogger is male…

1. Pop him and email. In the email, ask him for a date, and include your picture. The success of your request will depend entirely on the picture. It is not necessary to undress for the picture.

* * * * *

This post is done with tongue planted firmly in cheek, although I have a feeling that the steps might just work, and I won’t be surprised if it accurately reflects reality for some. You may even find this disturbing. If you do, know that it’s intentional.

A mother was complaining to me about her teenage son.

“He’s not the study type - he hates to study.”

“How come? Is it because he’s lazy, or because he just can’t.”

“He’s just lazy. All he wants to do is to make money.”

The son appeared around that time.

“Well, you don’t need to study to make a living,” I offered my honest opinion.

I’m not sure if the mother was more shocked or horrified.

“Can always be a hawker,” I quickly added.

The mother laughed.

“Son, did you hear that? You can become a hawker if you don’t study!”

Poor kid. And what’s wrong with being a hawker anyway?