Tinker, Tailor

It’s getting late now, and I’m tired. I think I shall hop into bed, and read my book. Let’s hope no one disturbs me.

A friend of mine pointed out a fellow choir pal of hers - she told me that he had a perfect pitch. This means that he could sing out a note or pitch of his choice, without any reference. For example, he would be able to sing out the A pitch (at 440Hz) whenever he wants to.

Not having a perfect pitch myself, I’ve always wanted to see (or hear) someone with a perfect pitch in action, and verify the accuracy. Unfortunately I didn’t get the chance that day.

I do remember reading somewhere that people who speak tonal languages (like Chinese and Thai) are more likely to have a perfect pitch, and less likely to be tone deaf. I don’t know how true that is, but I do have a Chinese friend who is completely tone deaf, but his Chinese is fine - better than mine.

Anyway, here’s a test (Distorted Tune Test ) which that friend of mine would definitely fail. It lets you listen to 26 snippets of some tunes, some of which are distorted, to help you determine if you’re tone deaf. (I recognise all the tunes, but I suspect that you’ll find it more difficult if you don’t know the tunes.)

My results:

You correctly identified 26 tunes (out of 26) on the Distorted Tunes Test. Congratulations! You have a fine sense of pitch.

Singapore Idol, HERE I COME!!!

But first, I’ll have to purchase those hot yellow speedos.

Via MindHacks

1. Why do we feel sad when King Kong dies, but don’t feel as sad when the other humans die?
(I think I know the reason to this one.)

2. How come the girl’s clothing never gets ripped with all the sliding on the undergrowth, and her bare feet doesnt seem to get hurt?

3. How come the girl and the other people don’t seem to be affected by KK’s breath and smell? Come on, I’m sure KK doesn’t brush his teeth.

4. There were a few scenes where the girl was standing behind KK. What would happen if KK decides to fart? Or poop?

I can’t resist articles that start like this:

The most impressive people I know are all terrible procrastinators. So could it be that procrastination isn’t always bad?

(From Good and Bad Procrastination by Paul Graham.)

I have more to say about the topic, but I think I’ll do it later.

P.S. If I haven’t replied your email (which you sent a few months ago), now you know why

Related post: Important or urgent?

I’m now listening to my neighbour’s “we wish you a merry christmas” repeated too many times. All these x’mas songs are starting to drive me insane - thankfully it’s only a couple of hours from the day itself, after which I should be able to get a bit of peace (now they’re playing “noel, noel, noel noelnoelnoeeeeel!!!”

But maybe it’s a good thing that I get used to ubiquitous music perpetually ringing between my ears, since it won’t be long before they the x’mas and new year deco Chinese New Year ones, along with the far more grating music.

Saddam Hussein would confess to crimes he didn’t commit if he had to listen to Chinese New Year music for a day.

But, it’s way too early to look forward to CNY, so let’s come back to present season.

I was at Borders yesterday when a flute quartet performed. It started off fine, but it became weird. I’ll just paste my MSN conversation with a friend (who’s into singing) describing the event (with minor edits):

Me:
i was at borders in the evening

Me:
there was some performance by some flutists

Me:
playing xmas songs, and asking for donations for cancer society

Me:
anyway, for their last 2 songs

Me:
they had a vocalist to sing along

Me:
the vocalist was a sop - the voice damn power
[sop - soprano, the ones who sing the highest notes, sung by females or boys. My friend is also a sop.]

Me:
but….

Me:
u know wat the problem was???

Friend:
what????

Me:
make a guess 

Me:
it was a problem for me at least

Friend:
she’s too ugly

Me:
hahahahahhaha

Me:
good try

Friend:
haha then?

Me:
the problem is

Me:
the vocalist was a GUY!!!!

Friend:
oh no!!!!!!!!!

Anyway to prove that I’m not lying, someone else has written about it:

met jody after that and we headed to borders to watch ed perform in his flute quartet. truth be told, i cld barely hear or appreciate the music cus the surrounding noise was just overwhelming. BUT the lead vocalist sang opera-style and sounded like a girl, when he was evidently not..

I don’t want to hear another x’mas song again.

Now playing: Silent Night

I was just thinking about this song. Feel free to skip over the lyrics.

White Christmas

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten,
and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
With every Christmas card I write
May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be white

I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
With every Christmas card I write
May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be white

Doesn’t anyone find this song racist???

I bet it was written by someone from the Klan.

There’s too much alchohol vapour in the air…

(I’m still in a didactic mood - this is somewhat of a continuation of my last post.)

Normally, when I hear “Jesus Christ”, it’s exclaimed with much frustration from the lips of an American friend. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on?!?”

You get the idea.

But since X’mas is approaching, the original non-profane usage of the name seems to be picking up.

By the way, the “Christ” in “Jesus Christ” is not the last name or surname. You shouldn’t be calling him “Mister Christ” if you met him today (some people claim to have met him so it’s not that farfetched).

Christians had better know that “Christ” is actually a title (not a surname), which means “Anointed” or “the Anointed One”. You might have come across the word “Messiah”, which means the same. (Messiah is from hebrew; christ is from greek.)

And not too many people realise that “Jesus” and “Joshua” are the same in greek.

This is why, in Hebrews 4:8 of the bible, you’ll find that the New International Version (NIV) reads:

For if Joshua had given them rest, God would not have spoken later about another day.

while the King James Version (KJV) reads:

For if Jesus had given them rest, then would he not afterward have spoken of another day.

Both were translated from similar greek texts, but the latter one (KJV) got it wrong. They got it wrong since 1611 when it was first published, and they never corrected it even after the last revision in 1769, the revision in use today, although most KJV users mistakenly think they’re using the original 1611 version…

Okay, I better stop myself before I get more boring. I think there are jingle bells jingling in my head…

I feel rather didactic at the moment, so I’ve decided to reveal something I discovered for myself only a few years back. How I wish someone had told me this much earlier.

I remember asking my dad why Christmas was often spelt X’mas. I was probably around 8 then.

He told me that ‘X’ is (obviously) a cross, and the cross represents Christ. Thus Christmas can be written as X’mas. Simple?

Sorry dad - that was quite clever, but quite wrong.

Christmas is sometimes spelt X’mas because the greek letter Χ (Chi) was used to represent Christ. Christ is Χριστος (Christos) in greek, which was sometimes abbreviated to Χς (Chi sigma - the first and last letters of Χριστος), and sometimes further abbreviated to Χ (Chi).

Why all this greek? That’s because the New Testament of the Bible was written in greek (the New Testament is the part of the Bible that’s centered around Jesus Christ).

So there you go. Ho ho ho.

I walked by one of the photography shelves at Kino when I saw a friend of mine. She was probably quite absorbed in the book as she didn’t notice me, so I went around the shelf so I could pop up behind her and surprise her a bit.

“Hellooow!” I bellowed.

She turned, glanced at me a moment, muttered a “hello”, and went back to her book.

Huh?!?

I bent over a little to look into her face. “Don’t you recognise me??” I haven’t seen her in a few months, but I don’t think I’ve changed that much.

She looked up at me. “No?”

A shadow of doubt crossed my mind. “Aren’t you Tina??”

“Nope.”

I staggered backwards while profusely apologising, feeling my blood rushing to my face, as she gave me that you-stupid-dolt grin. Sheesh.

Can’t blame me - She had Tina’s height and figure, Tina’s face, Tina’s funky glasses, and they’re both into photography! Ok come to think of it, Tina’s hair is shorter… Oh well, at least I didn’t slap her back. Or worse.

Many moons ago, the Rambling Librarian emailed me some questions on reading and blogging.

RamblingLibrarian (RL): What’s your blog for? (what is its purpose)

TinkerTailor (TT): Even without you asking, I ask myself such existential questions every now and then. And, like any deep, existential question, I don’t have a good answer

Read the rest of the interview.

Some time ago we had a new intern, and I had a chat with him.

Turns out that he had all his plans laid out - complete his NS, study in the UK, join SIA as a pilot. Okay, I thought.

Then he started interviewing me (at least it felt that way). At the end of it, he was telling me “hey you can become a pilot too!”

“Yeah I’m sure I can, but I’m not interested.”

“What do you mean you’re not interested?” he stared at me like I was a freak. “Good money, travel everywhere, girls…”

“Yeah I’m not interested.”

“Cannot be lah! I’m sure you’re interested!”

“Just because you’re interested doesn’t mean that I am. Maybe if you asked me when I was twelve, I would have been interested.”

The shock. The horror. There are guys who actually don’t want to be pilots!

* * * * *

Two girls were chatting near me, so I overheard their gossip. They were talking about a guy -

“You know, his brother is a pilot!”

“A pilot!”

Both were suitably awed by the thought of a pilot.

* * * * *

I was conversing with a veteran in the aerospace industry.

“You know,” I mused. “Airline pilots are nothing more than glorified bus drivers.”

He chuckled at the thought. “Actually you’re quite right!”

We sat there thinking for a little while.

Then he spoke up. “But pilots need more skill and precision.”

“I don’t think so, because bus drivers need to maneuver buses in heavy traffic and narrow roads and all, while there’s probably enough computer assistance on the plane that there’s really little skill needed to fly the plane.”

He agreed. He even gave me more insight into how advanced the plane computers are today, and how pilots often still refuse to relinquish control to the computers.

“Probably the only difference between the pilot and the bus driver is the size and price of the vehicle,” I added.

He laughed again. I was exaggerating of course, but there was enough truth to make it amusing.

“And you know what? Our bus companies recognise it. That’s why they call their bus drivers bus captains.”

A friend of mine is getting stalked by her ex.

I don’t get it. Doesn’t he realise that the harder he tries to be with her (by stalking her??), the less she’s gonna like him? Better to just disappear out of her life…

I was reminded of this when I read A year of killing, an article about women killed by their partners or exes (via Psychology and Crime News).

All those women, young and old, but mostly young, smiling for the camera, their lives unlived, yet to be killed by the men they may have loved.

Next there is the level of abuse most of the women endured before death: years of violence, physical and verbal assaults, harassment, intimidation and bullying. Some of the men who killed them were subject to restraining orders or facing charges of assault, but the authorities didn’t do enough to protect those at risk. There are the ordinary situations that might explain upset, but not murder: an affair, the suspicion of an affair, a misplaced phone call, the woman’s desire to separate. There are the murderers who kill their children too.

I think my friend’s gonna kill me for linking this article with her unfortunate situation. Sorry!

Update:

I checked with her on MSN and she has decided to let me live.

She then gave me the latest news on the stalker -

She: btw he told [a friend] that he’s erased my number off his phone so he can’t contact me

Me: ah…

Me: cos he memorised it already?

Such a comforting friend I am. I think I owe her dinner now.

It must have been the weather.

I was on one of my mean streaks as I walked by the stalls at a bazaar which I felt compelled to go because I know some of the stallholders.

“Would you like to buy one of these bookmarks?” asked the over-enthusiastic guy at the stall. “Bookmarks are useful for people who read a lot of books.”

Sneaky guy, he must have noticed the orange book in my hand.

“No thanks. People who read a lot know that bookmarks are bad for books.”

“Not true! Bookmarks aren’t bad for books!”

It was a hot afternoon, and my face was already damp with perspiration. How dare he contradict me.

“Bookmarks damage a book’s binding,” I said with finality, staring at him through my overpriced Oakleys.

He couldn’t tell that I was staring, since all he could see was his own reflection on the lenses, and he continued to badger me.

“How about these?” pointing to a pile of painted stones, “these are painted by kindergarten children!”

“Stones? Are these magic stones or what?” I hoped my sarcasm could be detected through my curled lips.

“These aren’t stones, these are paperweights!”

“I already have paperweights,” as I reached for my back pocket. “This,” I announced as I pulled out my PDA, “is my paperweight.”

“That’s a PDA!” he protested. “It has a screen, and a battery, and…”

“When it dies, it becomes a paperweight.”

He finally gave up.

Squidoo is finally up (beta).

To me, Squidoo is a type of search engine, with the search results compiled by real people. And unlike the early search engines where the search results were compiled by employees of the search company, this one’s compiled by anyone who feels competent enough to do so. A simple but pretty revolutionary idea.

Students will lurve this - it’ll make research even easier now.

There’s a discussion over at Tomorrow.sg regarding the Idledays Fund.

It’s painful for me to see all the misconceptions and the flaming going on in there, so I felt compelled to write this. Unless otherwise stated, these are my personal views and replies to some of the questions.

Why are you printing the blog to a book?

We are doing this for those who were closest to her - her family and her boyfriend (now in UK).

Would she have allowed this? I believe very strongly that she would. But more of this later.

Can’t they just read it online?

Yes, they can read it online, but the experience is different. Would you rather recieve a physical love letter, or a love email (if the words are the same). Most people would prefer the former. Also, not everyone in the family is net savvy.

Do they actually want it?

Yes. We checked with a close family member.

How about the private (password-protected) posts?

We won’t be printing those.

Why do you want to keep her blog/URL alive?

Her blog touched me, and I’d like to see it remain alive, so that it can touch others as well (Google cache, Internet archives, etc. just doesn’t work in terms of accessibility and user experience.)

I do not wish to see the URL idledays.net turn into something else. That’s just me.

Couldn’t you guys do it privately instead of making a big hoo-ha?

It certainly wasn’t intended to be a big hoo-ha.

We certainly could have done this privately, without risk of all these criticisms, but I personally preferred to do this publicly, because she was more than an editor of Tomorrow.sg - she contributed much to our local blogosphere, and I felt that those of you who were touched by her blog would also like the opportunity to contribute, and not keep this as an exclusive project.

If I’m not a Tomorrow editor, I would have been grateful for this opportunity to contribute. In fact, I would have been angry if I wasn’t given the opportunity to contribute.

Why not spend the money on research or other worthier causes?

We’ve stated quite clearly the intentions of the fund - it’s okay if you don’t feel like you wish to contribute to this, but there are others who want to.

I don’t tell people what they should do with their money. If you want to put your money in a cancer research fund, or a newspaper subscription, or the latest mobile phone, it’s none of my business. All we’re doing is give you another option to use your money.

Doesn’t she want to keep her blog private, away from her family?

Maybe so, when she was alive. Whether she would have wanted the blog to be printed for her family or not, no one can say for sure.

The next best thing we can do, then, is come to a decision based on what we know about her, and what seems best for her loved ones.

Much has already been said by the other editors on this, but I have these to add:

- As far as her family was concerned, she didn’t try to hide the fact that she was blogging. As for who in her family knows how much and what, I don’t know, nor do I think it necessary to check with them on this. For those who ask such hair-splitting questions, I doubt you have sincere intentions.

- She had friends online and offline. But the people who know the most about her way of blogging (including privacy and anonymity issues) are her friends from Tomorrow.sg. We understand why she wanted to remain anonymous. When we met, guess what we often talked about? When we debated online, guess what we often debated about? When we bitched about other people, guess who we bitched about? Blogs, blogging, and bloggers. We may not have known her forever, but put together, we know her blogging intentions pretty well.

Given these reasons and others, we could very well have done nothing. We chose to do something.

And I chose to be a part of this, because I confidently believe this is the right thing to do.

* * * * *

I keep thinking of what Clay Shirky said, which I quoted in an old post (Blogosphere Wars):

It is a deep curiosity of the human condition that people often find negative attention more satisfying than inattention…

* * * * *

You may post further questions or comments, but do note that I have a rather whimsical view on censorship, as far as my blog is concerned.

I know guys who like clubbing - they believe it’s a good way to bring a girl home.
Come to think of it, it wasn’t that different during the prehistoric caveman days, except that they understood “clubbing” a little differently.
Then again, some guys today still have that caveman mentality.

I was giving a presentation this afternoon.

The mostly female audience broke into embarrassed laughter when I displayed one of my slides. I soon realised that I had this completely unrelated bullet point:

我是男人
[I am a man]

I quickly explained, “I was actually testing out some Chinese fonts on the slide, and I guess I forgot to remove it…”

“Yeahhh rrright!!” someone sitting at the back interrupted, and everyone laughed again.

“Come on! It’s not like I need to convince myself that I’m male!” I retorted. Laughter again.

It was embarrassing, but pretty fun. I seldom get such a responsive audience that laughs at all my jokes, even those that aren’t really funny.

Maybe I am funny. Haha. Hahahah. Sigh.

A friend who writes better than me told me she likes My Secret History so I decided to check it out.

Paul Theroux writes disgustingly well. I hate him I envy him I’m jealous of him.

Here’s how he described a first sexual encounter:

We had gone there alone and ignorant, and lay stupidly under the trees; but now we know a little more. I could not tell where my flesh ended and hers began.

Wickedness entered me. My sould darkened and I felt a shameful thrill as it tottered and began to fall. It caught fire, and Tina was crying softly but holding me, and then we were both burning.

Damn.

This scene felt right at the time, so I had to capture it.

It was during dinner, just days after Bloggers.SG. As usual, she was content to be listening to the others talk, speaking only occasionally. So intent was her listening that she didn’t pay attention to me when I made that shot.

Weeks later, I read her Being Me post.

I am comfortable being where I am physically. I’m happy for you, I thought, since so very many other women have self-image issues.

I am comfortable being where I am mentally. Good for you, I thought, since I, certainly, am not. Maybe you’re better off than me.

I am comfortable being where I am spiritually…. I am comfortable being where I am socially. I’m glad for you, Sondra, even though I can’t say the same for myself. You have no idea…

Thanks to blogging, I found myself meeting really cool people — too many to mention… And thanks to blogging, Sondra, I found myself meeting cool people like you.

plus the fruition of Bloggers.SG05, which still astounds me to this day. I know exactly what you mean! And you know that I do too!

Bloggers.SG was one unbelievably crazy ride. After it was finally over, all we could manage was to grin and shake our heads in silence. Words were unnecessary.

Turning 28 couldn’t have been better and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way than just being me. So simple, I thought. So sweet and simple.

I remembered the scene.

Sondra, who blogged at Idle Days, has passed.

Words fail me.

* * * * *

I will be attending the wake tonight.

I miss you already.

* * * * *

More info on Tomorrow.sg