The medical term for my current condition is spelt, n-e-r-v-o-u-s b-r-e-a-k-d-o-w-n.
I often pictured someone suffering from a nervous breakdown like ‘that weird guy’ you see on the street who hasn't quite shaved, or 'that odd girl' who bursts out in tears when the phone rings or when she spills her glass of water but I’ve learnt yesterday that if you get an attack of depression or anxiety severe enough to stop you from doing anything normal, then you are going through a nervous breakdown -even if you were cleanly shaved or you decided to just wipe the floor dry.
Couple that with bereavement, I won’t say I’m having fun at all but I remind myself brighter days will come. They always do, so I pray.
15.9.09
18.8.09
Dish Racks
I've been living without a dish rack for more than a year now. I think I'm coping well.
Visitors, however simply do not comprehend.
"This is shameful. You don't have a dish rack. Let us get you one. "
*ha!
Look. There are things in life that I care very little for, and there are things in life for which I care a great deal. The dish rack is one, and I'm fussy about its make and design.
I don't have a dish rack because I haven't found one I like, really. For starters, it has to be steel (preferably matte) and made fingerprint-proof (for aesthetics and easy-clean reasons), has knife slots (for safety and knife care reasons), and preferably connects to the drain system through the sink in some way so the water runs off immediately (for hygiene and performance reasons).
A Valcucine (see below) comes to mind.
Notice the back section of the sink fitted with a rack where dishes sit to drip dry (germ-free!).
Dishes, glasses, knives and Teflon cutting boards
The stainless steel rack can also be removed and fitted into the dish-washer.
You see, my off-the-plan kitchen isn't built with such clever system and I'm not prepared to compromise and clog up my kitchen space. I suppose I could make do, if I really felt like having one (for only God knows when I'd be building my own home that will have a kitchen tailored to my needs, taste and ergonomics).
Anyhow, if you found any of this, let me know. I may consider purchasing on a day I feel like spending money.
Sink-fitted - clever
Until then, I shall continue to live happily without one.
Visitors, however simply do not comprehend.
"This is shameful. You don't have a dish rack. Let us get you one. "
*ha!
Look. There are things in life that I care very little for, and there are things in life for which I care a great deal. The dish rack is one, and I'm fussy about its make and design.
I don't have a dish rack because I haven't found one I like, really. For starters, it has to be steel (preferably matte) and made fingerprint-proof (for aesthetics and easy-clean reasons), has knife slots (for safety and knife care reasons), and preferably connects to the drain system through the sink in some way so the water runs off immediately (for hygiene and performance reasons).
A Valcucine (see below) comes to mind.
An IT-office-like kitchen, built-in draining system
Notice the back section of the sink fitted with a rack where dishes sit to drip dry (germ-free!).
Dishes, glasses, knives and Teflon cutting boards
The stainless steel rack can also be removed and fitted into the dish-washer.
You see, my off-the-plan kitchen isn't built with such clever system and I'm not prepared to compromise and clog up my kitchen space. I suppose I could make do, if I really felt like having one (for only God knows when I'd be building my own home that will have a kitchen tailored to my needs, taste and ergonomics).
Anyhow, if you found any of this, let me know. I may consider purchasing on a day I feel like spending money.
Sink-fitted - clever
Knife block - good
Compact - good size
Until then, I shall continue to live happily without one.
9.7.09
No TV
Yesterday, I ditched going to a friend's restaurant re-opening so I could kick back and relax watching Law and Order... but,
I received no feed on my TV.
I had 'No Signal' flashing in screensaver mode.
Not happy, I went to bed. It wasn't even 10pm.
Today, I have been cranky all morning, all afternoon and all evening - a bit like a mad junkie who didn't get his fix he thought he had but ran out.
I shall warn you that small talks during this time are to be avoided. Really.
I received no feed on my TV.
I had 'No Signal' flashing in screensaver mode.
Not happy, I went to bed. It wasn't even 10pm.
Today, I have been cranky all morning, all afternoon and all evening - a bit like a mad junkie who didn't get his fix he thought he had but ran out.
I shall warn you that small talks during this time are to be avoided. Really.
13.6.09
Kasparov Defense
Yes, Kasparov Defense.
Don't ask. We'd come to that.
Office this week has been a tough grind - some bits I attribute to post-fatigue. I played in a chess competition over the long weekend - seven rounds over and three hours each. I forgot how demanding it is to focus and at the same time, maintain my heart rate, keep my adrenaline levels in check, control my body temperature and emotions, and do nothing else for the rest of the time.
I did, however enjoy it and will take part in another tournament in Canberra late July.
To some, this is all new.
'Do you play chess?' Censored: haha. Haha.
'??? Chess? That's not a sport'. I don't argue it is.
'I didn't know you play chess'.
'Oh!? How long have you played?'
'Why do you like chess?'
'How did you get into playing chess?'
I was seven when Barry brought a chess set home and played a game with Dave. Brothers don't always want to play with their sister. So, I just watched.
When I asked questions, I was only to be ridiculed:
Stupid, your Queen dies if you do that!
Stupid, that's checkmate!
Stupid, that's a free piece!
I get it. Stop interrupting.
So, I watched and learned.
I remember fienchetto sounded so cool; and Kasparov Defense, awesome!
At 8, I observed a chess meet in school that took place in the hall every Wednesday afternoon. I would get in early even though it meant that I could only sit by the door.
The chess club was extra-curriculum meant for those who were not physically fit on the field but a place they could all pretend to be active. It wasn't a cool joint. I didn't care. I mean, I could fiencetto!
So, I asked Mrs. C to let me sign up.
"You must be in Standard 4 at least".
"Why?"
"You must be in Standard 4 at least".
"Why? Why?"
"You must be in Standard 4 at least".
"Why? Why? Why?"
By those eight words, I 'wasted' two years.
I played my first competition another year later at 11 in an Under-12 event. I remember playing an en passant K5-Q6 i.e. exd6... after ...d5 (I was taught descriptive notation before picking up the algebraic improvisation). The arbiter was called. The girl accused me of cheating when in fact, she had no idea what it was. I bet you she probably never understood how offsides are ruled in soccer.
Many thanks to
1. Mrs. C and her nephew who made me read a book about Paul Morphy. It's the first and last chess book I ever read to-date;
2. Dave for helping me win almost every game in my early days, and
3. Teachers, Mrs. L and Mr. T, including the new principal, Mrs. H for letting me play in competitions the school didn't care to participate.
I soon learnt - there is no such thing as Kasparov Defence.
Likely, Barry was referring to the King Indian's Defense, whatever variation that was played by Kasparov one time or another before the Grand Master decided to apply his talent to management and politics - No comments. I do not always know the names of the openings I play but this much I know.
We still give our big brother stick to this day. Kasparov Defense.
Barry and Dave still refuse to play with their sister 20+ years on but for a different reason!
Don't ask. We'd come to that.
Office this week has been a tough grind - some bits I attribute to post-fatigue. I played in a chess competition over the long weekend - seven rounds over and three hours each. I forgot how demanding it is to focus and at the same time, maintain my heart rate, keep my adrenaline levels in check, control my body temperature and emotions, and do nothing else for the rest of the time.
I did, however enjoy it and will take part in another tournament in Canberra late July.
To some, this is all new.
'Do you play chess?' Censored: haha. Haha.
'??? Chess? That's not a sport'. I don't argue it is.
'I didn't know you play chess'.
'Oh!? How long have you played?'
'Why do you like chess?'
'How did you get into playing chess?'
I was seven when Barry brought a chess set home and played a game with Dave. Brothers don't always want to play with their sister. So, I just watched.
When I asked questions, I was only to be ridiculed:
Stupid, your Queen dies if you do that!
Stupid, that's checkmate!
Stupid, that's a free piece!
I get it. Stop interrupting.
So, I watched and learned.
I remember fienchetto sounded so cool; and Kasparov Defense, awesome!
At 8, I observed a chess meet in school that took place in the hall every Wednesday afternoon. I would get in early even though it meant that I could only sit by the door.
The chess club was extra-curriculum meant for those who were not physically fit on the field but a place they could all pretend to be active. It wasn't a cool joint. I didn't care. I mean, I could fiencetto!
So, I asked Mrs. C to let me sign up.
"You must be in Standard 4 at least".
"Why?"
"You must be in Standard 4 at least".
"Why? Why?"
"You must be in Standard 4 at least".
"Why? Why? Why?"
By those eight words, I 'wasted' two years.
I played my first competition another year later at 11 in an Under-12 event. I remember playing an en passant K5-Q6 i.e. exd6... after ...d5 (I was taught descriptive notation before picking up the algebraic improvisation). The arbiter was called. The girl accused me of cheating when in fact, she had no idea what it was. I bet you she probably never understood how offsides are ruled in soccer.
Many thanks to
1. Mrs. C and her nephew who made me read a book about Paul Morphy. It's the first and last chess book I ever read to-date;
2. Dave for helping me win almost every game in my early days, and
3. Teachers, Mrs. L and Mr. T, including the new principal, Mrs. H for letting me play in competitions the school didn't care to participate.
I soon learnt - there is no such thing as Kasparov Defence.
Likely, Barry was referring to the King Indian's Defense, whatever variation that was played by Kasparov one time or another before the Grand Master decided to apply his talent to management and politics - No comments. I do not always know the names of the openings I play but this much I know.
We still give our big brother stick to this day. Kasparov Defense.
Barry and Dave still refuse to play with their sister 20+ years on but for a different reason!
7.6.09
Swine Flu
Reports state that there is no genetic proof this strain of flu ever came from a pig.
Why then do they call it 'Swine Flu'?
Why didn't they call it 'Pork Flu'?
Is it because 'pork' would suggest they had ingested the meat not properly cooked and got sick from it? If so, 'swine' may tell us that the pig isn't the least dead when its strain somehow got introduced to humans.
So, my question is: what were the Mexicans thinking when they decided to mess with pigs and what did they end up doing?
This could be PG stuff.
Why 'Swine Flu'? Why not 'Pork Flu'?
Why 'Swine Flu'? Why not 'Pork Flu'?
Why 'Swine Flu'? Why not 'Pork Flu'?
Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.
This is what happens when you read news past midnight after coming home from a rare chess tournament, when your cracked head suddenly realizes it is still capable of processing rubbish.
Why then do they call it 'Swine Flu'?
Why didn't they call it 'Pork Flu'?
Is it because 'pork' would suggest they had ingested the meat not properly cooked and got sick from it? If so, 'swine' may tell us that the pig isn't the least dead when its strain somehow got introduced to humans.
So, my question is: what were the Mexicans thinking when they decided to mess with pigs and what did they end up doing?
This could be PG stuff.
Why 'Swine Flu'? Why not 'Pork Flu'?
Why 'Swine Flu'? Why not 'Pork Flu'?
Why 'Swine Flu'? Why not 'Pork Flu'?
Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.
This is what happens when you read news past midnight after coming home from a rare chess tournament, when your cracked head suddenly realizes it is still capable of processing rubbish.
22.5.09
Week 21
When you see Week 21 for a title, of course you'd get an entry that is no less inspiring.
Dilbert said: Technology, not for Wimps. I'd say: Meetings, for Wimps - also with a capital double-u.
I had so many meetings, especially this week that I lost count. At the end of it all, it felt like I got chewed like grass by cows - slowly and through four compartments. I dread some of those meetings in the manner men dread the talking when women say to them those four deadly words in one unnerving sentence: we need to talk.
If I were Chief of the Chief, I'd enforce these ground rules:
1. Scheduling a meeting includes communicating the aim and attaching an agenda.
2. Attendants or Delegates must be punctual.
3. The grace period is five minutes.
4. Mobile phones must be switched off or to silent mode.
5. The meeting should not expend more than 48 hours (2 man days) collectively.
6. The meeting must concentrate on achieving consensus and making decisions, not hosting a discussion that ought to take place in a workshop.
7. Minutes must be sent out on the same day, and followed through.
If you don't agree with my doctrine, you're probably a wimp. I'd buy you beer and make sure you know that. I won't give you a job because you will very likely piss me off, piss the team off and then piss yourself off in the end because of all that pissing-everybody-off you did, so it is best for you to piss off because your pants must be wet by now.
Meanwhile, my car still isn't home yet after two months and that makes this truly a week-twenty-one.
Dilbert said: Technology, not for Wimps. I'd say: Meetings, for Wimps - also with a capital double-u.
I had so many meetings, especially this week that I lost count. At the end of it all, it felt like I got chewed like grass by cows - slowly and through four compartments. I dread some of those meetings in the manner men dread the talking when women say to them those four deadly words in one unnerving sentence: we need to talk.
If I were Chief of the Chief, I'd enforce these ground rules:
1. Scheduling a meeting includes communicating the aim and attaching an agenda.
2. Attendants or Delegates must be punctual.
3. The grace period is five minutes.
4. Mobile phones must be switched off or to silent mode.
5. The meeting should not expend more than 48 hours (2 man days) collectively.
6. The meeting must concentrate on achieving consensus and making decisions, not hosting a discussion that ought to take place in a workshop.
7. Minutes must be sent out on the same day, and followed through.
If you don't agree with my doctrine, you're probably a wimp. I'd buy you beer and make sure you know that. I won't give you a job because you will very likely piss me off, piss the team off and then piss yourself off in the end because of all that pissing-everybody-off you did, so it is best for you to piss off because your pants must be wet by now.
Meanwhile, my car still isn't home yet after two months and that makes this truly a week-twenty-one.
18.4.09
Travel April
I feel the gravity in my eyes.
I have to pack for a holiday.
I have 4.5hrs before I fly.
I think I would rather lay.
Though I look forward to being in Perth.
Though I look forward to chanting with the soccer lads.
Though I look forward to seeing Dutch turf.
Though I look forward to seeing my cousins, siblings, Mum and Dad.
....but I stare at my bag,
Hoping for magic to wag...
For I often dread whenenever I pack...
And before I know it, I am back.
I have to pack for a holiday.
I have 4.5hrs before I fly.
I think I would rather lay.
Though I look forward to being in Perth.
Though I look forward to chanting with the soccer lads.
Though I look forward to seeing Dutch turf.
Though I look forward to seeing my cousins, siblings, Mum and Dad.
....but I stare at my bag,
Hoping for magic to wag...
For I often dread whenenever I pack...
And before I know it, I am back.
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