Yes, that's what they are calling it and I after skimming through the article I am sure I suffer from it. From what I gathered they seem to say that the pervasiveness of technology in our lives has cause shrinking attention spans and encompasses the modern-day angst of stress, multitasking, distraction and data flurries. Although I don't agree with one thing there, they say that the normal attention span is about 12 minutes. To me that is 11 minutes too long. I am not sure what exactly they were talking about because I kind of got distracted with a an email, an IM window and an RSS update. What about you?
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Shock and y'all
I am blessed (or should that be cursed? Depends on whether you are coming or going I suppose) with a very short attention span. I plunge headlong into some activity/hobby and then within a few days lose all interest and look for something else to do. For example, I would be actively pursing some activity (I don't know: research, reading, photography, computers etc. Pick one.) and then... "Ooooh! Shiny! " (something similar to Dory in Finding Nemo).
Lately I have been looking at the country music scene in US. I can visualize most of your faces contorting into an expression of contempt. To those narrow minded folks I say, "You spent too much time in a blue state." I, as a blue state non-resident alien, am taking Dave Barry's suggestion to 'reach out to the fine folks in the red states' seriously. My solution, listen to country music and watch King of the Hill. On second thoughts, I should have just resovled to watch King of the Hill. I am sure my discomfiture stems from my ignorance more than anything else. (I am throwing liberal apologies so that I am not shot if I ever have the misfortune of being in a red state, visiting friends or attending a conference or something.)
So today I try to present a thoroughly misinformed, blatantly prejudiced and completely irreverent view of the country music scene with a pinch of blue state sneer and generous helpings of foreign disdain for anything American. Based on my observations I have concluded that:
1. All music is produced in Nashville, TN. To put it in more scientific terms, there exists an anomaly around this great town which causes a spatial distortion of the earth's musical tastes and sucks all country musicians to this place.
2. 90% of all country music is sung by Alan Jackson, Toby Keith and Tim McGraw. The rest are composed by ladies who almost always seem to have blonde hair and are wearing dinner gowns. The data was collected by the completely unscientific method of random polling of the VH1 country music channel (145 in Comcast in my area, in case you are curious). Sometimes data from the great american country channel (GAC) was added to gain more diversity in results. To those in the field of data collection, curious about the whole experimental procedure: I visit this channel once in a while while surfing (because as a normal guy, according to Seinfeld, I am not interested in what is on TV, but rather, what else is on TV). Of course, the more serious country music afficionados will point to other singers like Brad Paisely, Dierks Bentley. From my ignorant viewpoint they are just scraggy pretenders to the throne.
3. Somehow the country music singers are obsessed with whiskey. A conclusion backed by the solid evidence of not one but two songs: Toby Keith's Whiskey Girl and Brad Paisely & Allison Krauss' Whiskey Lullaby.
Now surely I have piqued the curiosity of some of you fine folks, you might want to check out what the heck the country music is all about. So a short primer to help you identify country music from the rest of the music while surfing your radio channels inching your way through the beltway traffic. Most songs seem to have an excessive use of violins... err... fiddle (See! That is why you should watch King of the Hill in conjunction with anything country). Of course, most of us have the intelligence of a sea mollusc when it comes music. So we need some better way of distinguishing. Most songs have an overdose of references to the pickup truck, stars and stripes, American way of life and politics, pickup truck again, neck of the woods, family, highschool sweetheart, finding the perfect man (something to do with Atlantis), some local bar in town, pickup truck again, and phrases like "Thats what its all about!" Did I mention pickup trucks? The most definitive indicator of a country song is the phrase honky tonk in it. It doesn't get any better than that.
And for the more ambitious amongst you who want to be a country music singer. Here is what you should do: move to Nashville TN. Pick an analogy say, spending time with your girl is like driving a pickup truck (No seriously, country chicks dig that!) or a phrase How you doin'? and add lots of fiddle music and write whatever you feel like, for example setting up a mouse trap with your choice phrase to punctuate your story. If nothing works talk about whiskey or girls or whiskey and girls.
And to those wondering about the title I say, "Its alright!"
Lately I have been looking at the country music scene in US. I can visualize most of your faces contorting into an expression of contempt. To those narrow minded folks I say, "You spent too much time in a blue state." I, as a blue state non-resident alien, am taking Dave Barry's suggestion to 'reach out to the fine folks in the red states' seriously. My solution, listen to country music and watch King of the Hill. On second thoughts, I should have just resovled to watch King of the Hill. I am sure my discomfiture stems from my ignorance more than anything else. (I am throwing liberal apologies so that I am not shot if I ever have the misfortune of being in a red state, visiting friends or attending a conference or something.)
So today I try to present a thoroughly misinformed, blatantly prejudiced and completely irreverent view of the country music scene with a pinch of blue state sneer and generous helpings of foreign disdain for anything American. Based on my observations I have concluded that:
1. All music is produced in Nashville, TN. To put it in more scientific terms, there exists an anomaly around this great town which causes a spatial distortion of the earth's musical tastes and sucks all country musicians to this place.
2. 90% of all country music is sung by Alan Jackson, Toby Keith and Tim McGraw. The rest are composed by ladies who almost always seem to have blonde hair and are wearing dinner gowns. The data was collected by the completely unscientific method of random polling of the VH1 country music channel (145 in Comcast in my area, in case you are curious). Sometimes data from the great american country channel (GAC) was added to gain more diversity in results. To those in the field of data collection, curious about the whole experimental procedure: I visit this channel once in a while while surfing (because as a normal guy, according to Seinfeld, I am not interested in what is on TV, but rather, what else is on TV). Of course, the more serious country music afficionados will point to other singers like Brad Paisely, Dierks Bentley. From my ignorant viewpoint they are just scraggy pretenders to the throne.
3. Somehow the country music singers are obsessed with whiskey. A conclusion backed by the solid evidence of not one but two songs: Toby Keith's Whiskey Girl and Brad Paisely & Allison Krauss' Whiskey Lullaby.
Now surely I have piqued the curiosity of some of you fine folks, you might want to check out what the heck the country music is all about. So a short primer to help you identify country music from the rest of the music while surfing your radio channels inching your way through the beltway traffic. Most songs seem to have an excessive use of violins... err... fiddle (See! That is why you should watch King of the Hill in conjunction with anything country). Of course, most of us have the intelligence of a sea mollusc when it comes music. So we need some better way of distinguishing. Most songs have an overdose of references to the pickup truck, stars and stripes, American way of life and politics, pickup truck again, neck of the woods, family, highschool sweetheart, finding the perfect man (something to do with Atlantis), some local bar in town, pickup truck again, and phrases like "Thats what its all about!" Did I mention pickup trucks? The most definitive indicator of a country song is the phrase honky tonk in it. It doesn't get any better than that.
And for the more ambitious amongst you who want to be a country music singer. Here is what you should do: move to Nashville TN. Pick an analogy say, spending time with your girl is like driving a pickup truck (No seriously, country chicks dig that!) or a phrase How you doin'? and add lots of fiddle music and write whatever you feel like, for example setting up a mouse trap with your choice phrase to punctuate your story. If nothing works talk about whiskey or girls or whiskey and girls.
And to those wondering about the title I say, "Its alright!"
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
It happens only in India...
The DPS porn movie scandal has gripped the nation. The story so far, a 17 year old boy uses his camera cell phone to videotape his girlfriend giving him a blowjob (Shiva! Shiva! Abachaaram! Abachaaram!). This 157 second video clip has been travelling from mobile to mobile (like all scandals do) until an enterprising college student put it up for sale on baazi.com (the Indian arm of ebay). So the cops arrest the college guy, the CEO of baazi.com and the 17 year old boy who made the video in the first place. The issue has become a major issue in the Indo-US relations. Boy! Who would have thought?
I particularly like the quote from the above link,"The case has gripped India, a largely conservative country where anything more revealing than a wet sari is generally regarded as culturally unacceptable." My question: Does this guy watch Indian movies and music videos that has been released lately?
I particularly like the quote from the above link,"The case has gripped India, a largely conservative country where anything more revealing than a wet sari is generally regarded as culturally unacceptable." My question: Does this guy watch Indian movies and music videos that has been released lately?
Monday, December 20, 2004
Bored...
On a completely unrelated note, I sincerely believe that anyone who takes this blog seriously deserves every bit of trouble that comes his/her way.
On a slightly related note, has anyone read the book "Bored of the Rings"? It is supposed to be a slightly dated parody of the Tolkien classic "Lord of the Rings". I wonder where I can get hold of a copy of the book. (Hint: If you guys are looking to buy me a present either for Christmas or my birthday, I am not particular, you might want to consider bored of the rings.) Also, if you haven't read Lord of the Rings or have read it and disliked it, and you are still my friend (I am quite surprised how that came to be) you would do better never to mention the fact to me. I find that I develop a certain dislike to people who don't like some of my favourite books. Believe me, it has nothing to do with you. Call it a personal failing of mine. (Soothsayer predicts: Suddenly many people develop an inexplicable hatred towards the book: Lord of the Rings.)
Now that we have gotten rid of the various notes, let me get to the actual topic that I set out to write. My house mate moved out of the apartment today and took with him, my precioussss (read: television set). I never realized that I was so addicted to TV. Of course, I do own a television set myself. However, under the influence of some mind melding drug, I graciously lent my TV to a friend of mine who had just moved to a new apartment. Today, I almost regretted my altruism and swore never to be that generous again (at least with my TV and definitely not with my computer and internet connection!).
Without a TV, my natural fallback was my laptop. Did the usual ritual of changing the desktop background and rearranging my desklets. Unfortunately there was no new kernel for me to compile and experiment with. So my power management woes (more on this some other day) are still unresolved. Also it has been a particulary unintersting day over at Slashdot, except for the bit about torrent tracker sites. So I spent a good three hours transcribing some dance notes that I borrowed from my good friend. For a while I was toying with the idea of picking up the phone and calling someone, but then I decided against it because the people who would be willing to talk are the ones who have their own sob story to tell. Bored as I was, I was not ready to listen to someone else's sob stories. I was calling to complain and not listen to someone complaining. I assure you that this is not the reason why I do not pick up calls on my cellphone. ::grin::
Eventually, in sheer boredom, I went over to Google and typed "bored" to see what sort of websites it would bring up. Google pulled up about 7,730,000 pages! Glad to know that I am not the only one who thought of typing the word "bored" on Google search. Some pages were quite interesting especially the one about traffic waves, the physics behind traffic jams. (On an unrelated note, the word traffic jam brings to mind some bad memories of a Govinda song.) However, I must say that I was a bit disappointed to note that there were no "self help", psychiatrist websites, or prescription drug (a la prozac, zoloft etc.) advertisements amongst the first 30 search results. After living in United States for so long, I have sort of come to expect these things as the cure for boredom.
So the next time you are in a similar situation, think Google. There is nothing more exciting than wasting time looking over the search results with a small voice (that is your conscience) reminding you in the background that there is research to be done. Oh, what were those lines again?
Woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
P.S. Bush is Time 2004 Man of the Year. Your opinion?
On a slightly related note, has anyone read the book "Bored of the Rings"? It is supposed to be a slightly dated parody of the Tolkien classic "Lord of the Rings". I wonder where I can get hold of a copy of the book. (Hint: If you guys are looking to buy me a present either for Christmas or my birthday, I am not particular, you might want to consider bored of the rings.) Also, if you haven't read Lord of the Rings or have read it and disliked it, and you are still my friend (I am quite surprised how that came to be) you would do better never to mention the fact to me. I find that I develop a certain dislike to people who don't like some of my favourite books. Believe me, it has nothing to do with you. Call it a personal failing of mine. (Soothsayer predicts: Suddenly many people develop an inexplicable hatred towards the book: Lord of the Rings.)
Now that we have gotten rid of the various notes, let me get to the actual topic that I set out to write. My house mate moved out of the apartment today and took with him, my precioussss (read: television set). I never realized that I was so addicted to TV. Of course, I do own a television set myself. However, under the influence of some mind melding drug, I graciously lent my TV to a friend of mine who had just moved to a new apartment. Today, I almost regretted my altruism and swore never to be that generous again (at least with my TV and definitely not with my computer and internet connection!).
Without a TV, my natural fallback was my laptop. Did the usual ritual of changing the desktop background and rearranging my desklets. Unfortunately there was no new kernel for me to compile and experiment with. So my power management woes (more on this some other day) are still unresolved. Also it has been a particulary unintersting day over at Slashdot, except for the bit about torrent tracker sites. So I spent a good three hours transcribing some dance notes that I borrowed from my good friend. For a while I was toying with the idea of picking up the phone and calling someone, but then I decided against it because the people who would be willing to talk are the ones who have their own sob story to tell. Bored as I was, I was not ready to listen to someone else's sob stories. I was calling to complain and not listen to someone complaining. I assure you that this is not the reason why I do not pick up calls on my cellphone. ::grin::
Eventually, in sheer boredom, I went over to Google and typed "bored" to see what sort of websites it would bring up. Google pulled up about 7,730,000 pages! Glad to know that I am not the only one who thought of typing the word "bored" on Google search. Some pages were quite interesting especially the one about traffic waves, the physics behind traffic jams. (On an unrelated note, the word traffic jam brings to mind some bad memories of a Govinda song.) However, I must say that I was a bit disappointed to note that there were no "self help", psychiatrist websites, or prescription drug (a la prozac, zoloft etc.) advertisements amongst the first 30 search results. After living in United States for so long, I have sort of come to expect these things as the cure for boredom.
So the next time you are in a similar situation, think Google. There is nothing more exciting than wasting time looking over the search results with a small voice (that is your conscience) reminding you in the background that there is research to be done. Oh, what were those lines again?
Woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
P.S. Bush is Time 2004 Man of the Year. Your opinion?
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Culinary skills... or the lack of it.
Chef, n.: Any cook who swears in French. --- Source unknown.
Some people are born cooks, some acquire culinary skills and some, like me, have cooking thrust upon them (with due apologies to Shakespeare). I have found that being a vegetarian, heavily addicted to Indian cuisine, my food choices are very restricted. (Word of advice: Avoid having principles which do not conform to the general norm, life is much easier that way.) In order to survive, it was inevitable that I learn how to cook and feed myself. Also, once in a while, comes the unhappy obligation to show off your culinary skills (you have bragged a lot about how you cook your own food) to your colleagues and peers (read: they invited you to dinner and protocol demands that you return the favour).
Luckily for me, there is a lot of variety in Indian cooking. The recipe for a certain dish varies from state to state. Heck, no two families agree on the right way to cook sambar. In fact, sometimes the only thing that they would agree on is the name of the dish. Also there is a lot of disagreement on the right way to eat a dish and/or what dishes can be eaten with other dishes. For example, some Keralites (or Malayalees or just Mallus) like to eat uppuma (also try upma and uppama) with a banana, a notion which is often revolting to a person from Tamil Nadu (or Tamils or Tams). A Telugu (or an Andhrite ?) would balk at the idea of eating some curry simultaneously while you are eating sambar with rice. It is always rice and a dry/solid curry, rice and sambar/rasam and finally rice and curds or buttermilk. Sometimes there is a rice and pickles (not the American pickles, mind you) before rice and curds. Order is of utmost importance. As I said earlier, there is variety (obligatory Obelix quote "These Indians are crazy!").
Now you are wondering, how can this much chaos be a good thing? I have realized that with a little but of cleverness and a complete disregard to moral scruples one can use this confusion to their advantage. Take for example, myself, a pathetic cook. Suppose I screw up while I cook a dish and let's just say it tastes a bit different. Depending on the crowd I am serving it to I can call it a recipe variation from the state which is not represented that night. You can always say you got this recipe/idea from a friend by email and no one would suspect you.
Of course, it is much easier to get away with a botched recipe when you are entertaining people who are unfamiliar with Indian cooking. You inivite them to dinner and they ask you, "Hey! What is this brown thing that you have cooked?" (Shhh! They don't know it is burnt!) You say, "Yeah, that is pulao." They say, "But we had some vegetable pulav at Mrs. Patel's and that looked a lot different from this. It had peas and carrots etc." At this point you say, "Vegetable pulao was it? Oh! No wonder! This is Shahi pulav. You see, (showing them the burnt brown mass of vegetables, it has mutter (peas) and gajar (carrots). Oh! I forget the English names for the vegetables at the moment... What? ... Do I have some of the vegetables?... Err... No, I used them all up for the dish. I can google it if you want." Your average guest is hungry and more concerned about eating something, so (s)he is not going to bother and you get away with Shahi pulao. It must be perfectly understood that I am in no way condoning the behaviour mentioned here. This is just an extreme example to illustrate the ambiguities involved in Indian cuisine which allows you to get away with murder, so to speak.
Now your average colleague is going to eventually talk about this dinner to another Indian colleague, who knows the tricks of the trade. This average Indian guy would then try to get you to invite him to a dinner. The way he sees it, if you mess up, he exposes you and if you don't, he gets a good free dinner (it has been a year since his last visit to India). Either way, he wins. Eventually, you succumb to his vile plan. So here are a few tips which might come in handy:
1. You can never have enough spices in your dish. The only reason you did not add a certain spice is because you forgot to pick it up from the store two hours earlier. If it is in your apartment, then at least a teaspoonful of it goes into the dish.
2. You can never go wrong with fried onions, large quantities of it. Doesn't matter if you intend to make carrot curry. The ratio of onions to carrots (or any other vegetable for that matter) is always 10:1. Just don't be stupid enough to call it onion curry, then they will laugh at you.
3. If you go overboard with the above suggestions, add a lot of tomatoes. Sauce is good.
4. Be very careful with salt. There is no fix for too much salt, at least not that I know of.
Being the idiot that you are, you will eventually mess up even these simple instructions and your friend arrives in another five minutes. (Yeah, they are punctual only for food!) At this point, the only way out is to add two or three teaspoons, nay better yet, tablespoons of chilli powder into the dish you botched up. An average Indian guy will never admit that he is not man enough (see here and here) to handle the spice.
Gender equality proponents might be miffed at the conspicous absence of any mention of the average Indian girl. There is a reason for it. The average Indian girl is sensible enough to realize what imbeciles men are in matters of cooking. So they cook their own food, and if you are nice to them, they will even share it with you. This is the reason why so many Indian men (even those in their early twenties) are happily married. At least, this is my theory.
Some people are born cooks, some acquire culinary skills and some, like me, have cooking thrust upon them (with due apologies to Shakespeare). I have found that being a vegetarian, heavily addicted to Indian cuisine, my food choices are very restricted. (Word of advice: Avoid having principles which do not conform to the general norm, life is much easier that way.) In order to survive, it was inevitable that I learn how to cook and feed myself. Also, once in a while, comes the unhappy obligation to show off your culinary skills (you have bragged a lot about how you cook your own food) to your colleagues and peers (read: they invited you to dinner and protocol demands that you return the favour).
Luckily for me, there is a lot of variety in Indian cooking. The recipe for a certain dish varies from state to state. Heck, no two families agree on the right way to cook sambar. In fact, sometimes the only thing that they would agree on is the name of the dish. Also there is a lot of disagreement on the right way to eat a dish and/or what dishes can be eaten with other dishes. For example, some Keralites (or Malayalees or just Mallus) like to eat uppuma (also try upma and uppama) with a banana, a notion which is often revolting to a person from Tamil Nadu (or Tamils or Tams). A Telugu (or an Andhrite ?) would balk at the idea of eating some curry simultaneously while you are eating sambar with rice. It is always rice and a dry/solid curry, rice and sambar/rasam and finally rice and curds or buttermilk. Sometimes there is a rice and pickles (not the American pickles, mind you) before rice and curds. Order is of utmost importance. As I said earlier, there is variety (obligatory Obelix quote "These Indians are crazy!").
Now you are wondering, how can this much chaos be a good thing? I have realized that with a little but of cleverness and a complete disregard to moral scruples one can use this confusion to their advantage. Take for example, myself, a pathetic cook. Suppose I screw up while I cook a dish and let's just say it tastes a bit different. Depending on the crowd I am serving it to I can call it a recipe variation from the state which is not represented that night. You can always say you got this recipe/idea from a friend by email and no one would suspect you.
Of course, it is much easier to get away with a botched recipe when you are entertaining people who are unfamiliar with Indian cooking. You inivite them to dinner and they ask you, "Hey! What is this brown thing that you have cooked?" (Shhh! They don't know it is burnt!) You say, "Yeah, that is pulao." They say, "But we had some vegetable pulav at Mrs. Patel's and that looked a lot different from this. It had peas and carrots etc." At this point you say, "Vegetable pulao was it? Oh! No wonder! This is Shahi pulav. You see, (showing them the burnt brown mass of vegetables, it has mutter (peas) and gajar (carrots). Oh! I forget the English names for the vegetables at the moment... What? ... Do I have some of the vegetables?... Err... No, I used them all up for the dish. I can google it if you want." Your average guest is hungry and more concerned about eating something, so (s)he is not going to bother and you get away with Shahi pulao. It must be perfectly understood that I am in no way condoning the behaviour mentioned here. This is just an extreme example to illustrate the ambiguities involved in Indian cuisine which allows you to get away with murder, so to speak.
Now your average colleague is going to eventually talk about this dinner to another Indian colleague, who knows the tricks of the trade. This average Indian guy would then try to get you to invite him to a dinner. The way he sees it, if you mess up, he exposes you and if you don't, he gets a good free dinner (it has been a year since his last visit to India). Either way, he wins. Eventually, you succumb to his vile plan. So here are a few tips which might come in handy:
1. You can never have enough spices in your dish. The only reason you did not add a certain spice is because you forgot to pick it up from the store two hours earlier. If it is in your apartment, then at least a teaspoonful of it goes into the dish.
2. You can never go wrong with fried onions, large quantities of it. Doesn't matter if you intend to make carrot curry. The ratio of onions to carrots (or any other vegetable for that matter) is always 10:1. Just don't be stupid enough to call it onion curry, then they will laugh at you.
3. If you go overboard with the above suggestions, add a lot of tomatoes. Sauce is good.
4. Be very careful with salt. There is no fix for too much salt, at least not that I know of.
Being the idiot that you are, you will eventually mess up even these simple instructions and your friend arrives in another five minutes. (Yeah, they are punctual only for food!) At this point, the only way out is to add two or three teaspoons, nay better yet, tablespoons of chilli powder into the dish you botched up. An average Indian guy will never admit that he is not man enough (see here and here) to handle the spice.
Gender equality proponents might be miffed at the conspicous absence of any mention of the average Indian girl. There is a reason for it. The average Indian girl is sensible enough to realize what imbeciles men are in matters of cooking. So they cook their own food, and if you are nice to them, they will even share it with you. This is the reason why so many Indian men (even those in their early twenties) are happily married. At least, this is my theory.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Communication gap.
But if you wish at once to do nothing and to be respectable nowdays, the best pretext is to be at work on some profound study. -- Leslie Stephen, "Sketches from Cambridge"
After four years of research, I agree. Working on a PhD insulates you from the real world. There is no 9-5 schedule that you need to worry about. You tend to take high speed internet, unlimited disk space, student discounts etc. for granted. You have this almost unlimited amount of time at your disposal to pursue your interests, cultivate new hobbies and what not. These advantages almost offset the fact that you are perpetually broke and are deeply envious of your undergraduate classmates who were clever enough to take up jobs and own a Merc or a BMW, while you drive a beat up Honda.
Being a poor graduate student, I cannot afford a nice, big apartment of my own. You need roommates to split the rent. It so happens that one of the guys I share the apartment with is a working guy, more in touch with the real world. He has a tough time relating to the crazy world that I live in. This has led to a lot of funny situations around the house, at least in my opinion. So without further ado...
Thanks to Netflix, one of my idiosyncrasies include planning my own themes for each week/month, a la Spike TV's Thanksgiving Bondathon, or my favorite (I apologize to the non-Tamil speakers) Sun TV's Kamal Vaaram or Athiradi Puthan (I don't know how to translate it to any other language). This month has been Samurai month and the last week in particular has been Kurosawa week. So there I am watching the bonus features in the DVD, while the aforementioned housemate walks in.
Housemate walks around the living room, stares at the TV, sits on the couch, shuffles uncomfortably for a while...
Housemate: So what are you watching?
Me: Seven Samurai.
Housemate: Hmmm...
Uncomfortable silence...
Housemate: So whats the movie about?
Me: Oh! It is about this village which is being plundered by bandits. They seek the help of seven samurai to defend their village.
Finally, there is something that he might relate to...
You remember the hindi movie Sholay? It is a similar story.
May be I might seem normal for the first time! Should I mention that Sholay was inspired (read copy) of this movie? No, bad idea!
Housemate (unimpressed): So how far into the movie, are we? Is it just beginning?
Wow! A conversation which does not discuss Green's theorem, ACPI issues in the Linux kernel or the latest SCO-IBM dispute! My social skills amaze me!
Me: Oh! The movie is over. I am watching the bonus features. This guy is explaining Kurosawa's style.
Housemate (now thorougly disinterested): OK. Interesting...
Uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.
Finally, my housemate gets up leaves the house. After a few minutes in another apartment in the building...
Knock! knock!
Guy living in apartment (opens the door): Hey! What is happening?
Housemate: Can I watch the football game here?
Guy living in apartment: Sure. What happened to the TV at your house?
Housemate: Arre yaar! Woh koi samurai picture dekh raha hai. (Yeah! That guy is watching some samurai movie.)
Guy living in the apartment: Want a beer?
I am sure he has a funny anecdote about how I don't know the difference between a quarterback and running back, that he tells his friends. He does not speak Kurosawa, Woody Allen or Krzysztof Kieslowski. Unfortunately I don't speak Vin Diesel, Daunte Culpepper or Kobe Bryant. How can we communicate?
After four years of research, I agree. Working on a PhD insulates you from the real world. There is no 9-5 schedule that you need to worry about. You tend to take high speed internet, unlimited disk space, student discounts etc. for granted. You have this almost unlimited amount of time at your disposal to pursue your interests, cultivate new hobbies and what not. These advantages almost offset the fact that you are perpetually broke and are deeply envious of your undergraduate classmates who were clever enough to take up jobs and own a Merc or a BMW, while you drive a beat up Honda.
Being a poor graduate student, I cannot afford a nice, big apartment of my own. You need roommates to split the rent. It so happens that one of the guys I share the apartment with is a working guy, more in touch with the real world. He has a tough time relating to the crazy world that I live in. This has led to a lot of funny situations around the house, at least in my opinion. So without further ado...
Thanks to Netflix, one of my idiosyncrasies include planning my own themes for each week/month, a la Spike TV's Thanksgiving Bondathon, or my favorite (I apologize to the non-Tamil speakers) Sun TV's Kamal Vaaram or Athiradi Puthan (I don't know how to translate it to any other language). This month has been Samurai month and the last week in particular has been Kurosawa week. So there I am watching the bonus features in the DVD, while the aforementioned housemate walks in.
Housemate walks around the living room, stares at the TV, sits on the couch, shuffles uncomfortably for a while...
Housemate: So what are you watching?
Me: Seven Samurai.
Housemate: Hmmm...
Uncomfortable silence...
Housemate: So whats the movie about?
Me: Oh! It is about this village which is being plundered by bandits. They seek the help of seven samurai to defend their village.
Finally, there is something that he might relate to...
You remember the hindi movie Sholay? It is a similar story.
May be I might seem normal for the first time! Should I mention that Sholay was inspired (read copy) of this movie? No, bad idea!
Housemate (unimpressed): So how far into the movie, are we? Is it just beginning?
Wow! A conversation which does not discuss Green's theorem, ACPI issues in the Linux kernel or the latest SCO-IBM dispute! My social skills amaze me!
Me: Oh! The movie is over. I am watching the bonus features. This guy is explaining Kurosawa's style.
Housemate (now thorougly disinterested): OK. Interesting...
Uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.
Finally, my housemate gets up leaves the house. After a few minutes in another apartment in the building...
Knock! knock!
Guy living in apartment (opens the door): Hey! What is happening?
Housemate: Can I watch the football game here?
Guy living in apartment: Sure. What happened to the TV at your house?
Housemate: Arre yaar! Woh koi samurai picture dekh raha hai. (Yeah! That guy is watching some samurai movie.)
Guy living in the apartment: Want a beer?
I am sure he has a funny anecdote about how I don't know the difference between a quarterback and running back, that he tells his friends. He does not speak Kurosawa, Woody Allen or Krzysztof Kieslowski. Unfortunately I don't speak Vin Diesel, Daunte Culpepper or Kobe Bryant. How can we communicate?
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Why Florist? What's in a name?
It seems that my choice of nickname is not sitting well with many of my friends. Here is a snippet from an email that I received today:
"why florist.. i wud have thought u wud be Sikorski or Bell 47 or T58.. u know, but u came up with Florist; c'mon! let me repeat..
C"MON! F L O R I S T.. man, that 's too .. um, what's the word.. chick-flicky, romantic-sweet-puppy , charming prince-jude-law... well, i give up .. there's no word for it."
Looks like I should have been more serious with choosing an online identity. However, I am sticking by it. And to those who still are wondering, I respond...
Juliet:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's a Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd.
Retain thy dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
(Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Act II Scene II)
Well, I suppose this only serves to ostracize me further? But think about it, anyone quoting Shakespeare deserves a "girly" name like Florist.
"why florist.. i wud have thought u wud be Sikorski or Bell 47 or T58.. u know, but u came up with Florist; c'mon! let me repeat..
C"MON! F L O R I S T.. man, that 's too .. um, what's the word.. chick-flicky, romantic-sweet-puppy , charming prince-jude-law... well, i give up .. there's no word for it."
Looks like I should have been more serious with choosing an online identity. However, I am sticking by it. And to those who still are wondering, I respond...
Juliet:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's a Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd.
Retain thy dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
(Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, Act II Scene II)
Well, I suppose this only serves to ostracize me further? But think about it, anyone quoting Shakespeare deserves a "girly" name like Florist.
Anatomy of a Bollywood movie.
What can I say, you either love it or hate it, there is no middle ground. Bollywood, the desi equivalent of Hollywood, movies was an integral part of my growing up like a bowl of rice (search for the phrase on the page). It is a curious mixture of melodrama, comedy and very vivid, colourful song-dance sequences. People who did not grow up under the influence of the Bollywood movies (read people who are used to short, to the point, well thought out, crisply directed movies) are often confused and bewildered upon seeing a Hindi movie. So here goes, the first of a series of articles where I try and explain how to dissect and better understand the pot pourri that is a Bollywood masala movie.
Dramatis personae:The male protagonist of the movie is called the hero of the movie. The female lead, whose role is pretty much restricted to being the love interest of the hero, is called the heroine. There is always a bad ass guy called the villain. He invariably incurs the wrath of the hero because he has the hots for the heroine. There are, of course, lots of villains henchmen for the dishum-dishum fight scenes.
Definition of a Masala movie: One that has all the elements of entertainment, comedy, drama, love angle, love triangle and sometimes even a love quadrangle, hatred, revenge, jealousy, murder, suspense. The movie (which doesn't necessarily always have a story line) goes like this. Boy meets girl. Girl hates boy, boy falls deeply in love with girl. Boy tires to woo girl with song-dance sequence. Girl falls into the hands of villain. Villain tries to molest girl. Girl hates villain. Boy, from now on called hero, arrives in nick of time saves girl, who from now on called heroine. Hero and heroine prance around trees in elaborate song dance sequence. Flashback scene where hero/heroine's widowed mother recounts the tales of injustice done by villain or villain's father. Showdown at villains adda (lair). Happy ending.
Every Bollywood movie is made up logical blocks (read cliches) which are based on very well defined formulae. For example, Hindi movie formula #54 states that the superhuman strength of a hero bashing up the villains is directly proportional to the number of times the main villain slaps the hero's parents and varies with the second power of the area of garment stripped off of his sister multiplied by a huge power of ten.
Take for example, the super-duper blockbuster hit DDLJ. The hero is an average, just out of college student who is in love with a girl who is engaged to be married to the villian (as per the standard definition of hindi movies). The girl loves him back, naturally, and of course the villain is not too happy about it. He sends his henchmen to beat the living daylights out of the hero. So there is this hero who is getting bashed up pretty badly and the supportive father character of the hero (hero ka baap) tries to speak some sense into the villain and pleads with him to leave the hero alone. But no! The villain would not listen. In fact, he is so badass (thank you Kate for the word) that he spites the hero's dad and slaps him. At this point the camera cuts into a close-up of the hero's face. He is being pinned to the ground by a dozen something henchmen. There is blood and mud all over his face for added effect. But as soon as he sees his dad hit the ground, there is a sudden transformation. Something similar to what Popeye undergoes when he eats spinach. Suddenly, he is superhuman. He shakes the henchmen off his back and decimates them in seconds.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is your average formula #54. There are very few variations of the central theme and, therefore, it is very easy to identify #54. Look for it in the movies you watch, it is pretty hard to miss. This formula is a recurring theme in movies of Dharmendra, who immortalized the line Kuttey, mein tera khoon pee jaaonga (roughly translated "Dog! I am gonna drink your blood." Or should that be "Yo Dawg!"). What can I say, back then it worked!
And for those out there who are curious what the #1 formula is, I will tell you. You can never go wrong with a remake of a hollywood blockbuster, just remember to add the song-dance sequences.
Dramatis personae:The male protagonist of the movie is called the hero of the movie. The female lead, whose role is pretty much restricted to being the love interest of the hero, is called the heroine. There is always a bad ass guy called the villain. He invariably incurs the wrath of the hero because he has the hots for the heroine. There are, of course, lots of villains henchmen for the dishum-dishum fight scenes.
Definition of a Masala movie: One that has all the elements of entertainment, comedy, drama, love angle, love triangle and sometimes even a love quadrangle, hatred, revenge, jealousy, murder, suspense. The movie (which doesn't necessarily always have a story line) goes like this. Boy meets girl. Girl hates boy, boy falls deeply in love with girl. Boy tires to woo girl with song-dance sequence. Girl falls into the hands of villain. Villain tries to molest girl. Girl hates villain. Boy, from now on called hero, arrives in nick of time saves girl, who from now on called heroine. Hero and heroine prance around trees in elaborate song dance sequence. Flashback scene where hero/heroine's widowed mother recounts the tales of injustice done by villain or villain's father. Showdown at villains adda (lair). Happy ending.
Every Bollywood movie is made up logical blocks (read cliches) which are based on very well defined formulae. For example, Hindi movie formula #54 states that the superhuman strength of a hero bashing up the villains is directly proportional to the number of times the main villain slaps the hero's parents and varies with the second power of the area of garment stripped off of his sister multiplied by a huge power of ten.
Take for example, the super-duper blockbuster hit DDLJ. The hero is an average, just out of college student who is in love with a girl who is engaged to be married to the villian (as per the standard definition of hindi movies). The girl loves him back, naturally, and of course the villain is not too happy about it. He sends his henchmen to beat the living daylights out of the hero. So there is this hero who is getting bashed up pretty badly and the supportive father character of the hero (hero ka baap) tries to speak some sense into the villain and pleads with him to leave the hero alone. But no! The villain would not listen. In fact, he is so badass (thank you Kate for the word) that he spites the hero's dad and slaps him. At this point the camera cuts into a close-up of the hero's face. He is being pinned to the ground by a dozen something henchmen. There is blood and mud all over his face for added effect. But as soon as he sees his dad hit the ground, there is a sudden transformation. Something similar to what Popeye undergoes when he eats spinach. Suddenly, he is superhuman. He shakes the henchmen off his back and decimates them in seconds.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is your average formula #54. There are very few variations of the central theme and, therefore, it is very easy to identify #54. Look for it in the movies you watch, it is pretty hard to miss. This formula is a recurring theme in movies of Dharmendra, who immortalized the line Kuttey, mein tera khoon pee jaaonga (roughly translated "Dog! I am gonna drink your blood." Or should that be "Yo Dawg!"). What can I say, back then it worked!
And for those out there who are curious what the #1 formula is, I will tell you. You can never go wrong with a remake of a hollywood blockbuster, just remember to add the song-dance sequences.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Helicopters... in layman's terms.
(A long while ago my friend asked me to explain helicopters without all the technical mumbo jumbo. I apologize to my fellow helicopter enthusiasts if this article does not reflect their lofty views of the greatness of helicopters.)
So all of us have at some point of time asked ourselves or somebody close by, "How does a helicopter fly?" Right? Wrong! That is what researchers working on helicopters ask all the time. The more normal people amongst us have only one question regarding helicopters, "Why is it so ugly?" To an average person, a helicopter looks like an oversized dragonfly with a hormone problem. Back in the 50s if helicopters were alive, they would make a perfect candidate to play the role of Godzilla's nemesis.
So what if they could hover motionless over a point? The fact is they are unromantic and normal people don't want anything to do with unromantic things. For example, we would all agree that one of the oft used pickup lines is "I am a pilot". Now how many times have you heard the response, "Ooh! Do you fly a helicopter?" Never! It is always "Oooh! Have you flown a jet?" At the end of the day, size and looks do matter and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
The difference between an airplane and a helicopter can be explained more easily using a swimming analogy. The airplanes glide through the air pretty much like fishes or trained swimmers do, while the helicopter beats about in air like a drowning person flapping his arms trying to stay afloat.
Aside: The curious amongst us might desire to know how to identify between a fish and a trained swimmer. It is quite simple actually. Look on their sides, if you see gills they are fishes, otherwise they are trained swimmers.
The smart alecs amongst us will be quick to point out that this test will fail to differentiate between trained swimmers and other mammals like whales and dolphins. Differentiating between blue whales and trained swimmers is trivial. The creature which can swallow the trained swimmer is the blue whale.
However, differentiating between a dolphin and a trained swimmer is more difficult. For this you will need a large ship, preferably named Titanic, Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio. Ask Leo and Kate to stand at the bow of Titanic which is cruising along at 20 knots (For added effect, you can ask Celine Dion to croon in the background). The creatures trying to jump out of the water playfully are the dolphins. The ones trying to crawl up the ship to get Kate and Leo's autographs are the trained swimmers.
So the fact is that helicopters do not know how to fly. Therefore, it is no surprise that so many of them fall out of the sky and crash. May be that is the reason why when someone says "I am a pilot" you don't hear the response "Oooh! So you fly helicopters?" because most helicopter pilots are dead.
So all of us have at some point of time asked ourselves or somebody close by, "How does a helicopter fly?" Right? Wrong! That is what researchers working on helicopters ask all the time. The more normal people amongst us have only one question regarding helicopters, "Why is it so ugly?" To an average person, a helicopter looks like an oversized dragonfly with a hormone problem. Back in the 50s if helicopters were alive, they would make a perfect candidate to play the role of Godzilla's nemesis.
So what if they could hover motionless over a point? The fact is they are unromantic and normal people don't want anything to do with unromantic things. For example, we would all agree that one of the oft used pickup lines is "I am a pilot". Now how many times have you heard the response, "Ooh! Do you fly a helicopter?" Never! It is always "Oooh! Have you flown a jet?" At the end of the day, size and looks do matter and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
The difference between an airplane and a helicopter can be explained more easily using a swimming analogy. The airplanes glide through the air pretty much like fishes or trained swimmers do, while the helicopter beats about in air like a drowning person flapping his arms trying to stay afloat.
Aside: The curious amongst us might desire to know how to identify between a fish and a trained swimmer. It is quite simple actually. Look on their sides, if you see gills they are fishes, otherwise they are trained swimmers.
The smart alecs amongst us will be quick to point out that this test will fail to differentiate between trained swimmers and other mammals like whales and dolphins. Differentiating between blue whales and trained swimmers is trivial. The creature which can swallow the trained swimmer is the blue whale.
However, differentiating between a dolphin and a trained swimmer is more difficult. For this you will need a large ship, preferably named Titanic, Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio. Ask Leo and Kate to stand at the bow of Titanic which is cruising along at 20 knots (For added effect, you can ask Celine Dion to croon in the background). The creatures trying to jump out of the water playfully are the dolphins. The ones trying to crawl up the ship to get Kate and Leo's autographs are the trained swimmers.
So the fact is that helicopters do not know how to fly. Therefore, it is no surprise that so many of them fall out of the sky and crash. May be that is the reason why when someone says "I am a pilot" you don't hear the response "Oooh! So you fly helicopters?" because most helicopter pilots are dead.
Is it bloggable?
You can tell that I am as excited about this journal as a kid with a new toy. Hopefully, the excitement will not wear out as quickly as with kids and their new toys. This blog did not come in cardboard boxes to which I could divert my attention later.
This being the Christmas season one cannot but help wonder why parents and other family members go through so much trouble of picking the right present for the toddlers in their lives. After all, we know for a fact that the kids are only interested in the boxes those gifts came in. Then why go through the whole hassle of the gifts under the tree, the Santa story etc? Furthermore, one also cannot but help wonder about another important issue. If we went ahead and put a box inside another box, which box will the toddler eventually play with? The box in which the other box came in or the box that came in another box. Now that we have wondered so much, I am sure you will oblige me and wonder some more as to whether it would be possible to write a research proposal and get an NSF grant? I even have a title ready, "On the study of behavorial patterns of pre-adoloscents with regard to preferences of cardboard boxes." Well, almost. I realize that the proposal has no chance of being considered if I cannot come up with a more research-y term to refer to the phrase: carboard boxes.
But, I am digressing. Lately (I realize it has been only two days), everything I do, I ask myself, is it (for the lack of a better word) bloggable? I find that opening my life to public scrutiny in form of a live journal has its advantages. I have to come up with entries at regular intervals to give out the impression that my life is interesting. I can achieve that in two ways. Either I go out and do fun stuff, and therefore lead an interesting life, which I can write about later or be extremely creative and make things up. Both options require some effort on my part, I just wish I knew which would require less effort.
This being the time of new year resolutions, it might be a good idea to resolve to do something interesting which I can write about later. Sort of like killing two birds with one stone, have something for a new year resolution which will alos provide fodder for my journal entries. Too bad the standard resolutions like quit smoking do not apply to me. Of course, I can ask my brutally honest friends for advice. Surely they will have some suggestions on what I should or should not do. The only problem, my life will be hell once I resolve to do something about it. But one thing is for sure, I need a new year's resolution because when someone asks "What is your resolution?", I don't want to reply "1600x1200" like I did last year.
This being the Christmas season one cannot but help wonder why parents and other family members go through so much trouble of picking the right present for the toddlers in their lives. After all, we know for a fact that the kids are only interested in the boxes those gifts came in. Then why go through the whole hassle of the gifts under the tree, the Santa story etc? Furthermore, one also cannot but help wonder about another important issue. If we went ahead and put a box inside another box, which box will the toddler eventually play with? The box in which the other box came in or the box that came in another box. Now that we have wondered so much, I am sure you will oblige me and wonder some more as to whether it would be possible to write a research proposal and get an NSF grant? I even have a title ready, "On the study of behavorial patterns of pre-adoloscents with regard to preferences of cardboard boxes." Well, almost. I realize that the proposal has no chance of being considered if I cannot come up with a more research-y term to refer to the phrase: carboard boxes.
But, I am digressing. Lately (I realize it has been only two days), everything I do, I ask myself, is it (for the lack of a better word) bloggable? I find that opening my life to public scrutiny in form of a live journal has its advantages. I have to come up with entries at regular intervals to give out the impression that my life is interesting. I can achieve that in two ways. Either I go out and do fun stuff, and therefore lead an interesting life, which I can write about later or be extremely creative and make things up. Both options require some effort on my part, I just wish I knew which would require less effort.
This being the time of new year resolutions, it might be a good idea to resolve to do something interesting which I can write about later. Sort of like killing two birds with one stone, have something for a new year resolution which will alos provide fodder for my journal entries. Too bad the standard resolutions like quit smoking do not apply to me. Of course, I can ask my brutally honest friends for advice. Surely they will have some suggestions on what I should or should not do. The only problem, my life will be hell once I resolve to do something about it. But one thing is for sure, I need a new year's resolution because when someone asks "What is your resolution?", I don't want to reply "1600x1200" like I did last year.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Deadlines and heart attack...
Just found this news at the BBC site. Apparently, tight deadlines can increase the risk of heart attack. Now if only I can somehow find a way to get my advisor to read this. Of course, one suspects the credibility of a study called SHEEP.
On login names and alter egos...
"Florist? What is the deal with that? That is not manly enough.", said my friend after I sent him the link to my new online journal for peer review. I had no idea what to say to him. Of course, when I signed up I strained my brain hard to think of a cool login which would make the readers go "WoW!" because I had little faith that my writing would. I must confess I am not good at thinking up clever names. The ones that I came up with were already taken. So eventually I ended up with florist. Why florist? To borrow an eloquent American phrase, "Because!". "No seriously, why?" If i remember correctly, every login I typed in the signup form returned the error "This login name is already taken, please choose another one". Finally, in frustration I typed in florist after looking at the flash advertisement in another window. It was accepted and I was relieved. But please, surely it is better and easier to remember than JohnDoe3167 suggested by the server!
I am sure many among you will agree that logins must be chosen carefully. After all, in the online world, the login names are pretty much what defines our personality. Logins reflect our secret desire to wear our underwears outside our pants and be a superhero. Or... something equally stupid. There is always an interesting story or some obscure trivia behind the online identities of many people. Though lately, they have become a lot less interesting. Most people just use their first-name_last-name combination followed by a series of numbers, mostly because they have started using email and Instant messengers in work environment. So does that mean the interesting, innovative but mostly stupid sounding nicknames will die a slow death?
Frankly, I don't care. I am just happy that when I name my child (if I ever have one), there will be no server complaing that the name is already taken and that I should consider appending several numerals. I must, however, deal with a very irritated lady (read the said child's mother) who would keep nagging that the name does not match the superhero image she wants her child to grow up with. But that, if at all, is in a very distant future and I choose not to worry about it.
For now, I remain, yours truly, Florist. The nickname you were not frustrated enough to think of.
I am sure many among you will agree that logins must be chosen carefully. After all, in the online world, the login names are pretty much what defines our personality. Logins reflect our secret desire to wear our underwears outside our pants and be a superhero. Or... something equally stupid. There is always an interesting story or some obscure trivia behind the online identities of many people. Though lately, they have become a lot less interesting. Most people just use their first-name_last-name combination followed by a series of numbers, mostly because they have started using email and Instant messengers in work environment. So does that mean the interesting, innovative but mostly stupid sounding nicknames will die a slow death?
Frankly, I don't care. I am just happy that when I name my child (if I ever have one), there will be no server complaing that the name is already taken and that I should consider appending several numerals. I must, however, deal with a very irritated lady (read the said child's mother) who would keep nagging that the name does not match the superhero image she wants her child to grow up with. But that, if at all, is in a very distant future and I choose not to worry about it.
For now, I remain, yours truly, Florist. The nickname you were not frustrated enough to think of.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Rotorcraft research not aerospace engineering?
I have been wondering about this for quite some time now. I suppose an example conversation between me and a stranger will explain what I mean:
Me: Hello. How do you do?
Stranger: Hi! How are you?
... Polite conversation about weather and other things...
Stranger: So what do you do?
Me: ummm... errr.. (other muttering noises) I am a student doing my PhD.
Stranger: What field? Computer Engineering? (Aside to themselves: since you are an Indian.)
Me: Aerospace Engineering.
Stranger: That is nice. So do you build spacecrafts?
Me: No.
Stranger: Satellites then?
Me: No. My research is mainly helicopter aerodynamics.
Stranger: (Politely) Oh! That is interesting. (Aside: Did you not say aerospace engineering?)
So is rotorcraft research really aerospace engineering?
Me: Hello. How do you do?
Stranger: Hi! How are you?
... Polite conversation about weather and other things...
Stranger: So what do you do?
Me: ummm... errr.. (other muttering noises) I am a student doing my PhD.
Stranger: What field? Computer Engineering? (Aside to themselves: since you are an Indian.)
Me: Aerospace Engineering.
Stranger: That is nice. So do you build spacecrafts?
Me: No.
Stranger: Satellites then?
Me: No. My research is mainly helicopter aerodynamics.
Stranger: (Politely) Oh! That is interesting. (Aside: Did you not say aerospace engineering?)
So is rotorcraft research really aerospace engineering?
To blog or not to blog...
That is the question, or is it? Of course not! Every net savvy person worth his salt is blogging these days. You cannot but help jump in the bandwagon or risk being branded the dinosaur of internet "savvyness". In fact, I fear that I am already too late. However, in my defense I would like to state that I had intentions of blogging much earlier. I researched the question, "What is this blog thing anyway?" as early as January 2004 and in June 2004, I signed up for an account on Blogger and then for the next six months did nothing about it.
Back when webpages on tripod and geocities were cool, I did my best to put up a webpage to announce my presence on the internet (Warning: The page is ancient and the links do not work). As with 99% of the webpages out there, my webpage was devoid of any useful, interesting information. I searched high and low for applets with fancy animation showing "Welcome to my webpage", "This page is under construction" and "Email me". The only working link in the webpage was a narcissitic "I, Me, Myself..." page. I quickly lost interest in the webpage, because the fancy page hit counter steadily showed zero page hits. I hope my blogging does not die such a sad death.
Blogging, like personal webpages, presupposes that the publisher is interested in expressing his ideas to an audience who are willing to hear him/her out. Given the number of blogs these days, one cannot help but wonder, what did these people do before internet became commonplace? Did they suddenly discover the urge to jot down their thoughts and feelings? Or were they always looking for an outlet and discovered blogging? Or did they just change the medium through which they expressed themselves? As I see it, the real life equivalent of a blog is a personal diary. I myself have never kept a diary for the fear of people discovering the embarrassing secrets. Based on my blogging history since June 2004 (read zero posts), the real embarrassing discovery would have been that I did not have an interesting life worth jotting down on a diary. However, there is one problem with the diary-blog analogy. Back in the days of personal diaries, the entries were supposed to be personal. It was impolite to read someone's diary. With blogs, everything is published with the hopes that many will read it and the blog will be rated amongst the most popular ones. What has changed? How are the journal entries in a personal diary different from that in a blog? I suppose I will never know.
Back when webpages on tripod and geocities were cool, I did my best to put up a webpage to announce my presence on the internet (Warning: The page is ancient and the links do not work). As with 99% of the webpages out there, my webpage was devoid of any useful, interesting information. I searched high and low for applets with fancy animation showing "Welcome to my webpage", "This page is under construction" and "Email me". The only working link in the webpage was a narcissitic "I, Me, Myself..." page. I quickly lost interest in the webpage, because the fancy page hit counter steadily showed zero page hits. I hope my blogging does not die such a sad death.
Blogging, like personal webpages, presupposes that the publisher is interested in expressing his ideas to an audience who are willing to hear him/her out. Given the number of blogs these days, one cannot help but wonder, what did these people do before internet became commonplace? Did they suddenly discover the urge to jot down their thoughts and feelings? Or were they always looking for an outlet and discovered blogging? Or did they just change the medium through which they expressed themselves? As I see it, the real life equivalent of a blog is a personal diary. I myself have never kept a diary for the fear of people discovering the embarrassing secrets. Based on my blogging history since June 2004 (read zero posts), the real embarrassing discovery would have been that I did not have an interesting life worth jotting down on a diary. However, there is one problem with the diary-blog analogy. Back in the days of personal diaries, the entries were supposed to be personal. It was impolite to read someone's diary. With blogs, everything is published with the hopes that many will read it and the blog will be rated amongst the most popular ones. What has changed? How are the journal entries in a personal diary different from that in a blog? I suppose I will never know.
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