I suffer no fools. No, I don't. And I will not hesitate to tell the fool off.
That is perhaps why clowns have no place in my heart. Neither does Mr Bean. Folly is the way of the weak, the veneer behind which a person hides his/her inability and shortcomings.
Fools have the innate ability to ask seemingly smart questions but, to the trained eye, such questions betray their vacuous minds.
I rapped a student twice today for asking stupid questions. And then I ignored her and many others when they asked foolish questions. So contrite were the questions that their other classmates actually told them to work out the sums in their own calculators and see how stupid their questions were.
Still, the start of a beautiful week was marred by these foolish ones.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Hypocrisy Hour
Oh, the BLASPHEMY!
So I was right all along.
Advertise your hypocrisy.
Show off your crocodile tears.
Celebrate in mere symbolism.
Save one lamp hour to spend it in other ways. Charge your cameras! Take pictures. Upload to your computer and share with the world. People will come and visit and look at your pictures. Choke the bandwidth. See our collective sympathy for our own misdeeds.
What a sick and cruel joke to play on Mother Earth.
So I was right all along.
Advertise your hypocrisy.
Show off your crocodile tears.
Celebrate in mere symbolism.
Save one lamp hour to spend it in other ways. Charge your cameras! Take pictures. Upload to your computer and share with the world. People will come and visit and look at your pictures. Choke the bandwidth. See our collective sympathy for our own misdeeds.
What a sick and cruel joke to play on Mother Earth.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Say What?
Sometimes, there are things would you rather not know. But once you find them on the Internet, they can be too exciting to ignore.
Tuninter Flight 1153 was a Tuninter flight from Bari International Airport in Bari, Italy, to Djerba-Zarzis Airport in Djerba, Tunisia. On 6 August 2005 the ATR-72 on the route, TS-LBB "Habib Bourguiba", ran out of fuel and ditched into the ocean...
In March 2009, an Italian court sentenced the pilot, Chafik Garbi, to 10 years in jail for manslaughter. Prosecutors said that after the plane's engines stopped functioning, Garbi failed to follow emergency procedures, and that he could have easily reached landing strip #25 of Palermo "Punta Raisi" Airport, or even the standard landing strip #20.
Witnesses say he succumbed to panic and began praying out loud, rather than attempting to maneuver the plane to the nearest airport. The last five minutes of the cockpit voice recorder audio have a few scattered seconds of religiously oriented interjections such as "Allah save us!", with the pilot repeatedly telling ATC that the plane is too far out to make it to land, carefully selecting a boat to splash down near, and repeatedly trying to restart the engines.
Wikipedia has the most exciting information. How exciting.
Tuninter Flight 1153 was a Tuninter flight from Bari International Airport in Bari, Italy, to Djerba-Zarzis Airport in Djerba, Tunisia. On 6 August 2005 the ATR-72 on the route, TS-LBB "Habib Bourguiba", ran out of fuel and ditched into the ocean...
In March 2009, an Italian court sentenced the pilot, Chafik Garbi, to 10 years in jail for manslaughter. Prosecutors said that after the plane's engines stopped functioning, Garbi failed to follow emergency procedures, and that he could have easily reached landing strip #25 of Palermo "Punta Raisi" Airport, or even the standard landing strip #20.
Witnesses say he succumbed to panic and began praying out loud, rather than attempting to maneuver the plane to the nearest airport. The last five minutes of the cockpit voice recorder audio have a few scattered seconds of religiously oriented interjections such as "Allah save us!", with the pilot repeatedly telling ATC that the plane is too far out to make it to land, carefully selecting a boat to splash down near, and repeatedly trying to restart the engines.
Wikipedia has the most exciting information. How exciting.
For Lucy
Lucy, an Akita bitch, belonging to a couple of my friends in NJ died of cancer last Boxing Day. She was 10.
If Lucy could talk, she'll make a fine lady. She's always so friendly and agreeable. She used to leave my pants all covered with doggie hair whenever she saw me. Bob used to be so apologetic - I'll wipe them off, he'll say - but I got past the initial discomfort and never looked back. Lucy was simply Lucy. She pressed her body against people's legs as her way of hugging. And she loved giving hugs.
Lucy was also exceptionally well-behaved. Her great manners can be seen at the dinner table. Despite her eagerness to get scraps off the table, she can sit and wait. That is one amazing thing that I never seen dogs do, at least not up close. She loved it when I spirited scraps off the table and she'd take those pieces off my hand, making sure that she never bit me.
I was really impressed when Lucy licked the plates clean after our dinner. Small wonder the dishwasher always delivered clean plates after washing. Lucy had done half the job for it!
What left the most indelible impression on me was Lucy's penchant for mint. She used to eat toothpaste because she dug mint. Till I introduced her to Wrigley's mint sweets. She'd eagerly answer my calls because of the mints, I guess. It was hard doing rationing, especially when she would look expectantly at you, hoping that you'd acquiesce and slip her another mint. Hearing her chew on those mints was another wonder altogether.
Even though our contact was just a few days, Lucy left a deep impression. I look back at the days I was a guest at my friends' and she'd be one of the highlights.
Lucy's definitely in doggie heaven now. I was told my friends will be adopting another Akita. But Lucy will always have a very special place in my heart, too.
If Lucy could talk, she'll make a fine lady. She's always so friendly and agreeable. She used to leave my pants all covered with doggie hair whenever she saw me. Bob used to be so apologetic - I'll wipe them off, he'll say - but I got past the initial discomfort and never looked back. Lucy was simply Lucy. She pressed her body against people's legs as her way of hugging. And she loved giving hugs.
Lucy was also exceptionally well-behaved. Her great manners can be seen at the dinner table. Despite her eagerness to get scraps off the table, she can sit and wait. That is one amazing thing that I never seen dogs do, at least not up close. She loved it when I spirited scraps off the table and she'd take those pieces off my hand, making sure that she never bit me.
I was really impressed when Lucy licked the plates clean after our dinner. Small wonder the dishwasher always delivered clean plates after washing. Lucy had done half the job for it!
What left the most indelible impression on me was Lucy's penchant for mint. She used to eat toothpaste because she dug mint. Till I introduced her to Wrigley's mint sweets. She'd eagerly answer my calls because of the mints, I guess. It was hard doing rationing, especially when she would look expectantly at you, hoping that you'd acquiesce and slip her another mint. Hearing her chew on those mints was another wonder altogether.
Even though our contact was just a few days, Lucy left a deep impression. I look back at the days I was a guest at my friends' and she'd be one of the highlights.
Lucy's definitely in doggie heaven now. I was told my friends will be adopting another Akita. But Lucy will always have a very special place in my heart, too.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
B*** S***
On Saturday, organisers hope to get 1 billion people to believe and take part in their BS.
These 1 billion people are supposed to switch off every d**n thing in their homes and live in total darkness and quiet to save an hour's worth of electricity.
These 1 billion people are supposed to believe that our philandering ways have led to a crisis called global warming.
These 1 billion people are supposed to think that their turning off their electrical equiment for an hour, and then blasting them the rest of the year - regardless of need - to make up for it, is going help preserve the earth for a period of time enough for a new generation to spawn.
1 billion of such people are already in existence. We don't another 1 billion. We don't need to be them. Look at the people around the world who have no electricity. Oops, make it no home, not even basic shelter. Aren't they the most ardent supporters of your BS? They have more than sufficiently atoned for our sins. Why should we pretend that we need to disrupt the sick system even more.
These 1 billion people are going to tax the generators so badly at the end of their 1hour of hypocritical BS when they reignite all the equipment at the same time. If I suffer a power outage, I'll engage all other sane folks to initiate a class action suit against the perpetrators of such BS.
How can 1 billion people, almost 15% of the world's population, all be tricked into believing that global warming is a man-made occurrence? Haven't scientists shown with historical ice ages that the earth is merely going through a hot stage now, and then our next ice age will come later?
1 billion *more* morons. That's an assault on our combined IQ scores. For that one hour, we lose all the geniuses to the drama-mamas, who think with their hearts and groins rather than their brains. Didn't some people suggest that the 1 hour of BS be spent in fornication? How that idea sucks! How is the heaving and panting not adding to greenhouse carbon dioxide gases? And then what happens when our population grows by another 200 million more in 9 months?
Fortunately, these 1 billion people will NOT include me.
The world will end. But it will not be because of me, but because of the 1 billion people who have chosen to vote for "This Planet." Earth Hour? For heaven's sake, grow a brain for a start.
These 1 billion people are supposed to switch off every d**n thing in their homes and live in total darkness and quiet to save an hour's worth of electricity.
These 1 billion people are supposed to believe that our philandering ways have led to a crisis called global warming.
These 1 billion people are supposed to think that their turning off their electrical equiment for an hour, and then blasting them the rest of the year - regardless of need - to make up for it, is going help preserve the earth for a period of time enough for a new generation to spawn.
1 billion of such people are already in existence. We don't another 1 billion. We don't need to be them. Look at the people around the world who have no electricity. Oops, make it no home, not even basic shelter. Aren't they the most ardent supporters of your BS? They have more than sufficiently atoned for our sins. Why should we pretend that we need to disrupt the sick system even more.
These 1 billion people are going to tax the generators so badly at the end of their 1hour of hypocritical BS when they reignite all the equipment at the same time. If I suffer a power outage, I'll engage all other sane folks to initiate a class action suit against the perpetrators of such BS.
How can 1 billion people, almost 15% of the world's population, all be tricked into believing that global warming is a man-made occurrence? Haven't scientists shown with historical ice ages that the earth is merely going through a hot stage now, and then our next ice age will come later?
1 billion *more* morons. That's an assault on our combined IQ scores. For that one hour, we lose all the geniuses to the drama-mamas, who think with their hearts and groins rather than their brains. Didn't some people suggest that the 1 hour of BS be spent in fornication? How that idea sucks! How is the heaving and panting not adding to greenhouse carbon dioxide gases? And then what happens when our population grows by another 200 million more in 9 months?
Fortunately, these 1 billion people will NOT include me.
The world will end. But it will not be because of me, but because of the 1 billion people who have chosen to vote for "This Planet." Earth Hour? For heaven's sake, grow a brain for a start.
Tribute to the FedEx pilots
I always think pilots are amazing people. They manoeuvre massive equipment that make drivers of large cars seem like they are driving toy cars.
And more amazingly, pilots bring people and goods from point to point; their work helps to connect people around the world.
While I must admit that the shipping captains are equally noble, there is nothing like zooming at 1000 km/h at almost 10 km above terra firma.
In many air freight companies and iffy airlines, pilots are required to operate equipment that may or may not be worthy of flight. Still, they try their best to get things and people from point to point each time.
Each failure to do so seems magnified beyond reason. Just because a plane crashes and a few hundred people die, it seems like the end of the world. Looking at it in perspective, the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami claimed about half a million lives. Assuming each aircraft takes 500 passengers and crew, we need to crash 1 000 aircraft at the same time to achieve the same amount of deaths. In fact, more people die on the road each year than in air crashes.
The FedEx pilots had to operate a MD11, which is highly suspect in its ability to survive severe conditions. Nonetheless, the pilots tried. That's the one of the most important lessons one should learn in life - to try. To die while trying is nobler than not having tried at all.
I only hope that the air disaster does not end in vain. Something should be done, such as phasing all MD11s out of commercial and freight service, so that aviation becomes even safer. That would be a larger tribute to the two men who tried.
And more amazingly, pilots bring people and goods from point to point; their work helps to connect people around the world.
While I must admit that the shipping captains are equally noble, there is nothing like zooming at 1000 km/h at almost 10 km above terra firma.
In many air freight companies and iffy airlines, pilots are required to operate equipment that may or may not be worthy of flight. Still, they try their best to get things and people from point to point each time.
Each failure to do so seems magnified beyond reason. Just because a plane crashes and a few hundred people die, it seems like the end of the world. Looking at it in perspective, the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami claimed about half a million lives. Assuming each aircraft takes 500 passengers and crew, we need to crash 1 000 aircraft at the same time to achieve the same amount of deaths. In fact, more people die on the road each year than in air crashes.
The FedEx pilots had to operate a MD11, which is highly suspect in its ability to survive severe conditions. Nonetheless, the pilots tried. That's the one of the most important lessons one should learn in life - to try. To die while trying is nobler than not having tried at all.
I only hope that the air disaster does not end in vain. Something should be done, such as phasing all MD11s out of commercial and freight service, so that aviation becomes even safer. That would be a larger tribute to the two men who tried.
Watch where the f**k you are going!
In a matter of less than 20 metres, a wheelchair guy nearly ran over the toes of another guy walking alongside him because he needed to steer the wheelchair out to look at the girl walking beside him, whom he was talking to.
I nearly crashed into some bozo who barged out of the bookstore, waved to a girl and then stopped dead in his tracks.
Man, I bet they were unable to move properly because their gears got stuck between their ball bearings and wheels.
I wish I had simply crashed into the bozo and brought him down. I'd enjoy some physical contact. And perhaps someone *else* can go to the ER for a change.
Yes, all for looking at and getting stunned by girls.
Sex-starved idiots!
I nearly crashed into some bozo who barged out of the bookstore, waved to a girl and then stopped dead in his tracks.
Man, I bet they were unable to move properly because their gears got stuck between their ball bearings and wheels.
I wish I had simply crashed into the bozo and brought him down. I'd enjoy some physical contact. And perhaps someone *else* can go to the ER for a change.
Yes, all for looking at and getting stunned by girls.
Sex-starved idiots!
Friday, March 20, 2009
I'm mortal
Drop the apostrophe and remove the space and you get the anagrammatic "immortal". Perhaps it depicts how much human beings have been preoccupied by maintaining their life for as long as they can.
I woke up this morning at 3 am with a severe central abdominal pain. It was a widespread, periodic pain with varying intensity. Despite only hitting the bed at 1.30 am, the pain prevented me from going back to sleep.
I gingerly got out of bed and did my big one, hoping that the release of gases will relieve the pain a little. That was not to be. The pain came in a sharp torrent while I was seated on the throne. Something must be wrong.
Could it be appendicitis? I can't tell. I woke my housemate up at 3.30 am and asked to be sent to an emergency room.
While he showered and prepped, I packed an overnight bag. At that moment, I felt like I was going in because my water bag broke. Except I'm a guy.
He came out and asked me why I was all packed. I shrugged and said, "I want to be the first appendicitis patient to go in ready for admission, rather than have to rely on you coming back for my stuff."
He said I was crazy but how much do people know about needing to get busy so that the patient can forget the discomfort and suppress the fear.
As he drove down the rather desert highway to Singapore General Hospital, I wondered aloud what would have been a good outcome for this episode.
No diagnosis? Nah, I hate no-endings. Appendicitis? Sounds good. Look, I'm not going to die if it is. Stomach cancer...
Don't be silly, he said.
But my grandfather was admitted to the hospital during some Chinese New Year for severe stomach pains. He was diagnosed with stomach cancer and in less than 4 months, despite the aggressive treatment, he left. I replied.
Oh, shit. I haven't written my will. I thought to myself
We often wait till when we need it the most before we realise that we have not done what we should have. I'm a net asset person. In fact, I am just assets at the moment. I'm not servicing any loans. My bills all paid. I have decent insurance cover. But to die intestate would mean the state will screw my monies first.
Perhaps it time to set the house in order.
I wonder if appendicitis surgery can be done under epidural.
We just drove past the Changi Village exit on the highway, our journey a fifth done.
Yeah, right. They may think you're pregnant after all.
I wish. But at least I'll have a hell of an excuse to eat lots of food and grow fat. Baby needs to grow, you know.
The pain rippled the through the abdomen as the car bumped across half the island to SGH. One goes to SGH for the sake that its abbreviated name suggests "Sure Go Home". Changi General Hospital, which is nearer my place and would be where I would have arrived at when I spoke of eating and growing fat for the baby's growth, is some place I avoid. "Can Go Home" and "Cannot Go Home" are too close to call.
My thoughts quickly dissipated as the journey went on. I concentrated on dulling the pain through a mind over matter effort, until we arrived near the hospital. There was a slight hesitation on the driver's part what is the best approach. Being familiar with SGH, I directed him there.
Odd that he didn't put on the GPS to guide him. Perhaps I should remind him the next time.
Screening and triage at the hospital was quick. Not surprisingly, at 4 am, there were a few patients but not too many.
I waited a good 40 minutes or so before I was attended to.
The mind strayed and tried to block out the cruel joke the body played on your life. You begin to wonder if life needs to be a parasitical part of the body such that the parasite dies as the host expires.
The reading materials were dismal. The relatively light patient load simply meant fewer action for a drama lover like me.
As I fidgeted over whether I should go to relieve myself, a woman "merlioned" just outside the toilets.
She outdid Merlion. Hers was Technicolor puke, mainly reddish. Singapore Tourism Board needs to consider if Merlion can also get to throw up rubicund vomitus.
I sure am trying my best to hide from my mortality, never mind if I'm going to die or not.
I waited in dread for the pungent tang of the puke to waft across the room and hit my nose. For whatever it was, it didn't. I was eternally thankful.
The show revolved around people avoiding the strategically placed land mine in the middle of a oft-used corridor in the emergency room.
Finally, the bladder won the battle. And as I eased myself, I heard a nurse screaming my name three times.
At the third call, I was fairly certain she could hear me, I went, "In the toilet!"
Got out and was promptly brought into the consultation area to see the doctor.
He wasn't sure what was wrong but he would test blood and urine and give me abdominal x-rays. But first, he'll inject some medicine in intravenously.
I don't know if he's still green but he missed the luxuriously large vein at the side of my forearm. I was in pain; I have a particularly low threshold for pain. I winced as he topo-ed with the needle, hoping to make entry into the vein. He actually sheared through the vein, if you ask me. I was after all a trained medic with the SAF. Was, but I know the pains of settling up lines.
After I decided he had enough opportunities to mince my muscle with the intruding needle, I asked the doctor to remove the needle and try another site.
But you'll feel pain again, he warned.
It's ok, do it.
Oh, there's blood. I must have hit it, he ejaculated as he removed the needle.
Oh, whatever. I thought.
I'm a patient here. I don't care what you need to do. The pain is to be expected. I know I'm here to be poked at but please give me some dignity. If you cannot get the act in the first try, give me the option of enduring a second pain but at a site where you are more confident of success. Trust me, I was lucid and sharp and I did not mind a second take for you despite my pain. The poor patients who you are trying to help are probably so battle hardened that they already don't care.
I am not even sure if these patients are at the hospital because they want to be treated or they had no choice because of familial pressures.
I know I'm there to get firsthand the diagnosis, if any.
Dr K hit jackpot on his second try and set up the intravenous plug. Good for him! Better for me. He took the blood sample, injected the medicine and sent me off for more tests.
The x-rays went fine but the pee sample collection was a little more challenging. Never thought I'd choke during such a performance. Man, I could give a sample any time. Well, almost any time.
Fear is a crippling emotion. Regardless of the severity, or lack of, for any patient facing any potentially life threatening event, his or her perspectives and priorities quickly play musical chairs. What was important then might no longer be equally important now.
The tests were done and I was given the "Clear - for now."
It is too early to call. Nothing will show up yet. Check that the pain does not come back again and migrate to the right. Dr K was somewhat sheepish for not being able to tell me anything more than something caused my intestines to be hyperactive.
And then Dr K removed the drip plug, which was accompanied by rather serious bleeding for a while.
Then my wallet was bled and was sent on my way home.
It was a good thing I am I am able to afford medical treatments. If I were chronically ill and chronically poor, I won't know what I would have done even if a stomach ache episode occurs.
But I am certain that the fear of our suddenly threatened mortality would not be any less. If anything, the inability to get treatment might have heightened the awareness of inevitable Death even more.
I woke up this morning at 3 am with a severe central abdominal pain. It was a widespread, periodic pain with varying intensity. Despite only hitting the bed at 1.30 am, the pain prevented me from going back to sleep.
I gingerly got out of bed and did my big one, hoping that the release of gases will relieve the pain a little. That was not to be. The pain came in a sharp torrent while I was seated on the throne. Something must be wrong.
Could it be appendicitis? I can't tell. I woke my housemate up at 3.30 am and asked to be sent to an emergency room.
While he showered and prepped, I packed an overnight bag. At that moment, I felt like I was going in because my water bag broke. Except I'm a guy.
He came out and asked me why I was all packed. I shrugged and said, "I want to be the first appendicitis patient to go in ready for admission, rather than have to rely on you coming back for my stuff."
He said I was crazy but how much do people know about needing to get busy so that the patient can forget the discomfort and suppress the fear.
As he drove down the rather desert highway to Singapore General Hospital, I wondered aloud what would have been a good outcome for this episode.
No diagnosis? Nah, I hate no-endings. Appendicitis? Sounds good. Look, I'm not going to die if it is. Stomach cancer...
Don't be silly, he said.
But my grandfather was admitted to the hospital during some Chinese New Year for severe stomach pains. He was diagnosed with stomach cancer and in less than 4 months, despite the aggressive treatment, he left. I replied.
Oh, shit. I haven't written my will. I thought to myself
We often wait till when we need it the most before we realise that we have not done what we should have. I'm a net asset person. In fact, I am just assets at the moment. I'm not servicing any loans. My bills all paid. I have decent insurance cover. But to die intestate would mean the state will screw my monies first.
Perhaps it time to set the house in order.
I wonder if appendicitis surgery can be done under epidural.
We just drove past the Changi Village exit on the highway, our journey a fifth done.
Yeah, right. They may think you're pregnant after all.
I wish. But at least I'll have a hell of an excuse to eat lots of food and grow fat. Baby needs to grow, you know.
The pain rippled the through the abdomen as the car bumped across half the island to SGH. One goes to SGH for the sake that its abbreviated name suggests "Sure Go Home". Changi General Hospital, which is nearer my place and would be where I would have arrived at when I spoke of eating and growing fat for the baby's growth, is some place I avoid. "Can Go Home" and "Cannot Go Home" are too close to call.
My thoughts quickly dissipated as the journey went on. I concentrated on dulling the pain through a mind over matter effort, until we arrived near the hospital. There was a slight hesitation on the driver's part what is the best approach. Being familiar with SGH, I directed him there.
Odd that he didn't put on the GPS to guide him. Perhaps I should remind him the next time.
Screening and triage at the hospital was quick. Not surprisingly, at 4 am, there were a few patients but not too many.
I waited a good 40 minutes or so before I was attended to.
The mind strayed and tried to block out the cruel joke the body played on your life. You begin to wonder if life needs to be a parasitical part of the body such that the parasite dies as the host expires.
The reading materials were dismal. The relatively light patient load simply meant fewer action for a drama lover like me.
As I fidgeted over whether I should go to relieve myself, a woman "merlioned" just outside the toilets.
She outdid Merlion. Hers was Technicolor puke, mainly reddish. Singapore Tourism Board needs to consider if Merlion can also get to throw up rubicund vomitus.
I sure am trying my best to hide from my mortality, never mind if I'm going to die or not.
I waited in dread for the pungent tang of the puke to waft across the room and hit my nose. For whatever it was, it didn't. I was eternally thankful.
The show revolved around people avoiding the strategically placed land mine in the middle of a oft-used corridor in the emergency room.
Finally, the bladder won the battle. And as I eased myself, I heard a nurse screaming my name three times.
At the third call, I was fairly certain she could hear me, I went, "In the toilet!"
Got out and was promptly brought into the consultation area to see the doctor.
He wasn't sure what was wrong but he would test blood and urine and give me abdominal x-rays. But first, he'll inject some medicine in intravenously.
I don't know if he's still green but he missed the luxuriously large vein at the side of my forearm. I was in pain; I have a particularly low threshold for pain. I winced as he topo-ed with the needle, hoping to make entry into the vein. He actually sheared through the vein, if you ask me. I was after all a trained medic with the SAF. Was, but I know the pains of settling up lines.
After I decided he had enough opportunities to mince my muscle with the intruding needle, I asked the doctor to remove the needle and try another site.
But you'll feel pain again, he warned.
It's ok, do it.
Oh, there's blood. I must have hit it, he ejaculated as he removed the needle.
Oh, whatever. I thought.
I'm a patient here. I don't care what you need to do. The pain is to be expected. I know I'm here to be poked at but please give me some dignity. If you cannot get the act in the first try, give me the option of enduring a second pain but at a site where you are more confident of success. Trust me, I was lucid and sharp and I did not mind a second take for you despite my pain. The poor patients who you are trying to help are probably so battle hardened that they already don't care.
I am not even sure if these patients are at the hospital because they want to be treated or they had no choice because of familial pressures.
I know I'm there to get firsthand the diagnosis, if any.
Dr K hit jackpot on his second try and set up the intravenous plug. Good for him! Better for me. He took the blood sample, injected the medicine and sent me off for more tests.
The x-rays went fine but the pee sample collection was a little more challenging. Never thought I'd choke during such a performance. Man, I could give a sample any time. Well, almost any time.
Fear is a crippling emotion. Regardless of the severity, or lack of, for any patient facing any potentially life threatening event, his or her perspectives and priorities quickly play musical chairs. What was important then might no longer be equally important now.
The tests were done and I was given the "Clear - for now."
It is too early to call. Nothing will show up yet. Check that the pain does not come back again and migrate to the right. Dr K was somewhat sheepish for not being able to tell me anything more than something caused my intestines to be hyperactive.
And then Dr K removed the drip plug, which was accompanied by rather serious bleeding for a while.
Then my wallet was bled and was sent on my way home.
It was a good thing I am I am able to afford medical treatments. If I were chronically ill and chronically poor, I won't know what I would have done even if a stomach ache episode occurs.
But I am certain that the fear of our suddenly threatened mortality would not be any less. If anything, the inability to get treatment might have heightened the awareness of inevitable Death even more.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Free China Warmth
Bought a quilt from Ikea just before Chinese New Year (mid Jan) to fit into the new quilt cover. The main reason was the northeast monsoon was a little cold, especially in the night, when the chill seemed to penetrate right into your bones.
As the weather became warmer and more humid, I decided that the quilt was no longer a necessity. Took the quilt and the cover out for a wash on Wednesday and completed doing laundry today. I like to soak the clothes to remove all smell and dirt. The quilt was washed according to the instructions on the label - gentle wash, low tumble dry. I also saw it was made in China.
Alas, the mesh covering of the quilt was tore as I removed it from the clothes dryer.
I did not see any damage when the quilt was first fitted into the cover, during or after the wash, and before I put it into the dryer. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to tell if it was torn because dry quilt was fluffy and everything was "huge and white, clean and bright."
The tear was not structural. One would expect to see the expanded herring bone structure of the knits if indeed the mesh covering was overstretched. But it wasn't. There were two holes, which I can best attribute to material fatigue. The mesh was constructed using iffy materials and the manufacturers probably expected the guarantees to run out when the damage is seen.
Took the torn quilt, marched to Ikea and got a refund. When giving the refund, the service counter guy reminded that such items had to be done in this way and that, giving stricter conditions that was prescribed by the label on the item. Looks like there is a deeper problem than this.
Moral of the story for Ikea: Outsource to China by all means; screw your own bottomlines.
As the quilt was returned, I reminded Ikea of their other product, a towelette, also from China, which was padded with small "cotton balls" to make it fluffy. But in the end, the balls came off during the laundry cycle and my entire laundry load was rendered useless because the balls stuck to the entire load. Some of my whites turned slightly greenish.
Moral of the story for consumers: If you can tolerate nonsense and have lots of time, buy the Chinese items. Quickly use and make sure they are spoilt by the end of the first use (and before the 100 day guarantee) and then return to Ikea to get your money back. Remember to stress that that was the first use.
I didn't expect free warmth to be most heartwarming. :)
As the weather became warmer and more humid, I decided that the quilt was no longer a necessity. Took the quilt and the cover out for a wash on Wednesday and completed doing laundry today. I like to soak the clothes to remove all smell and dirt. The quilt was washed according to the instructions on the label - gentle wash, low tumble dry. I also saw it was made in China.
Alas, the mesh covering of the quilt was tore as I removed it from the clothes dryer.
I did not see any damage when the quilt was first fitted into the cover, during or after the wash, and before I put it into the dryer. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to tell if it was torn because dry quilt was fluffy and everything was "huge and white, clean and bright."
The tear was not structural. One would expect to see the expanded herring bone structure of the knits if indeed the mesh covering was overstretched. But it wasn't. There were two holes, which I can best attribute to material fatigue. The mesh was constructed using iffy materials and the manufacturers probably expected the guarantees to run out when the damage is seen.
Took the torn quilt, marched to Ikea and got a refund. When giving the refund, the service counter guy reminded that such items had to be done in this way and that, giving stricter conditions that was prescribed by the label on the item. Looks like there is a deeper problem than this.
Moral of the story for Ikea: Outsource to China by all means; screw your own bottomlines.
As the quilt was returned, I reminded Ikea of their other product, a towelette, also from China, which was padded with small "cotton balls" to make it fluffy. But in the end, the balls came off during the laundry cycle and my entire laundry load was rendered useless because the balls stuck to the entire load. Some of my whites turned slightly greenish.
Moral of the story for consumers: If you can tolerate nonsense and have lots of time, buy the Chinese items. Quickly use and make sure they are spoilt by the end of the first use (and before the 100 day guarantee) and then return to Ikea to get your money back. Remember to stress that that was the first use.
I didn't expect free warmth to be most heartwarming. :)
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Mr Stubborn
Me: Ok, have you looked through my comments in your essay draft and do you have any questions?
MS: Yes, I want to explain some of the things you said.
Me: What are the parts you are unclear?
MS: Why you say this part is not clear? This is what the article says.
Me: Oh, really? Show me the essay?
MS points to the part.
Me: You see, you are quoting something out of context. You need to provide some kind of transition to show why you can make a statement like this, and then you must provide the source of the information. You cannot make claims without any evidence or without acknowledging sources, especially when the claims are not yours. And if they are yours, you all the more need to provide proof, because such claims are highly argumentative and not everyone will agree.
MS: But this is what the essay says. Why must I need to write (the transition)?
Me: You see, whatever you have written before does not naturally lead to this conclusion. Therefore, you cannot make logical leaps like these. Your readers will not be able to understand, much less appreciate, what your point is.
MS: Then what about this part? Critics (of organ transplants) are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: Are you sure?
MS: Yes. Critics are insisting that the Dead Donor Rule (DDR) is followed and (the patient must be dead for at least) 3 minutes (before the pronouncement of death can be made). This way, they are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: I don't think you can make a case this way. You can say that the critics of organ transplants demand that the DDR and the timing for pronouncing death are followed because they do not want deaths to be hastened for the sake of harvesting organs.
MS: Then this is obstructing.
Me: No. Obstructing is more like they are stopping the organs from being transplanted. What they are doing here is to demand that strict procedures are followed.
MS: But then the organs cannot be used.
Me: Yes, the problem is two-fold. Critics want the death procedures to be followed and as a result, the lack of blood to the organs after death may render the organs unusable. But critics do not obstruct (organ transplants). They are just making sure that the potential donors die and remain dead. You cannot claim more than what is stated in the article.
[This is really a nuanced argument. It is hard to argue for obstruction. Unless they are like Greenpeace activists steering their boats into the path of the Japanese whaling fleet, how can the requirement to merely follow rules be obstruction? I would have acquiesced if he argued that the critics rely on stringent rules on dead donors, which in turns cause the number of transplantable organ to be reduced. In addition to obstruction, the Me vs MS exchanged included a disagreement on the correct use of "merely" and "only".]
MS (referring to another point): Why can't I make my point this way? Why must I have proof?
Me: Can you show me your articles? Oh, but these articles are short case studies and many discrete examples. There are no arguments in there for you to use for defending your claims.
[MS used 8 printed sides of articles, mostly from those trashy self-help websites to write a 10 page academic research paper where he intends to argue that the quality of life of patients needing transplants may be improved if the tranplant laws are relaxed.)
MS: Can't I derive my own arguments from the examples?
Me: How can you derive your arguments?
MS: I read the example and I think of an orginal argument to explain.
Me: How can an example be used to prove a claim? You need to have many examples before you can find out trends to make conjectures. Claims are advanced stuff!
MS: So what's wrong with me coming up with claims?
Me: Ok, fine. Suppose you want to argue... (look at his draft) that a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades. So where is your evidence on this?
MS: Here. (Shows me a 4 line paragraph in a 2.5 page long article.)
Me: You need to write a 10 page essay with 4 supporting articles. A point like this (a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades) will take about 3/4 to 1 page to complete. So you only one piece of evidence in the form of an example?
MS: No, no! The other two passages (out of three) also have this point.
Me: Show me.
[MS flips the 4 sides to high heavens but find nothing. I notice that the paragraphs in those two articles are mainly two to three lines long.]
MS: I can't find it now.
Me: No problem. Tell me, those two articles are also giving you examples only, right?
MS: Yes.
Me: Then what authority are you going to rely on? What kind of evidence do you have?
MS: I can write my own argument.
Me: How do you write your own argument?
MS: I use the examples and write your own argument.
Me: This isn't going to work. Look, you cannot rely on examples or mere case studies to write an argument. You need to have arguments from authorities. People who are experts in this field write claims but these claims are based on large number of cases or if they have extensively followed certain cases over a long period of time. Their arguments are therefore more believable than our own arguments. Are you a transplant expert?
MS: No.
Me: Neither am I. The point is, if your essay is going to be a rehash of the examples, then you are flogging a dead horse. What you need to do is to come up with a position or a claim and then support your position by citing the evidence you have, both from the experts and from examples. You can imagine your claim as an umbrella under which the information you find is placed below to prop the umbrella up.
MS: What's the difference? Didn't you say that if I repeat the evidence, I'm flogging a dead horse? So what are you doing differently?
Me: I have a claim which is backed up by claims from other experts and examples from them. I am quoting research and proposing to extend the boundary of the subject under discussion. I did not merely find evidence that I think will work and then fix the arguments to fit it. I make arguments that can be defended, not one that is applicable only for a case.
You are extremely good at taking things out of context. You have done it for assignment 2 and you've done badly. You've done it for the draft and done badly for it too. Now, even when I have explained what you should do, you ignore parts of what I tell you and simply take the discussion out of context and place words in my mouth.
I don't contradict myself. I am very clear what needs to go into the essay.
[MS is visibly shocked.]
In the context of the point "a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades," what I expect to see is very clear. I will need an argument or a claim of this by some health ministry of some country, some health analyst, or some healthcare observer. I need to see evidence of black market activity in countries with stringent laws (say, Singapore) and what the people are doing to procure organs from black markets from within or beyond Singapore and I need to see a contrast example say for Iran where laws are lax and the number of black market trades is lower. This way, you can support your argument and prove your point.
Your chosen articles are way too short. There is no way you can find anything of substance or value there unless you change the articles. Examples do not an argument make. You need to appeal to the experts.
Academic research writing has a convention you have to follow. The kinds of evidence that are admissible in research are more or less restricted to a few types. You are unlikely to be able to conduct experiments by yourself to then analyse the results. You cannot depend on discrete examples to generalise (findings). Things do not work this way.
MS: So I'll need to work on the articles and find things with arguments.
Me: Yes. Don't you find it odd that your Assignment 3 articles are so elementary compared to the prescribed articles for Assignments 1 and 2? If such kiddy readings can be used for academic research, then why do I bother to kill myself by making students work on those readings?
You can decide whatever you want to do with your work but this is far from what is acceptable. Please work on it.
[MS picked up his materials after the gruelling 30 minute exchange, which was 20 minutes overtime, and walked out of the room. As he walked out and the door closed, I heard murmurs of approval from the rest of the students waiting for their turn for conferencing. Some of the students after MS credited my for my tremendous patience and not biting MS' head off. I am amazed myself.]
MS: Yes, I want to explain some of the things you said.
Me: What are the parts you are unclear?
MS: Why you say this part is not clear? This is what the article says.
Me: Oh, really? Show me the essay?
MS points to the part.
Me: You see, you are quoting something out of context. You need to provide some kind of transition to show why you can make a statement like this, and then you must provide the source of the information. You cannot make claims without any evidence or without acknowledging sources, especially when the claims are not yours. And if they are yours, you all the more need to provide proof, because such claims are highly argumentative and not everyone will agree.
MS: But this is what the essay says. Why must I need to write (the transition)?
Me: You see, whatever you have written before does not naturally lead to this conclusion. Therefore, you cannot make logical leaps like these. Your readers will not be able to understand, much less appreciate, what your point is.
MS: Then what about this part? Critics (of organ transplants) are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: Are you sure?
MS: Yes. Critics are insisting that the Dead Donor Rule (DDR) is followed and (the patient must be dead for at least) 3 minutes (before the pronouncement of death can be made). This way, they are obstructing organ transplants.
Me: I don't think you can make a case this way. You can say that the critics of organ transplants demand that the DDR and the timing for pronouncing death are followed because they do not want deaths to be hastened for the sake of harvesting organs.
MS: Then this is obstructing.
Me: No. Obstructing is more like they are stopping the organs from being transplanted. What they are doing here is to demand that strict procedures are followed.
MS: But then the organs cannot be used.
Me: Yes, the problem is two-fold. Critics want the death procedures to be followed and as a result, the lack of blood to the organs after death may render the organs unusable. But critics do not obstruct (organ transplants). They are just making sure that the potential donors die and remain dead. You cannot claim more than what is stated in the article.
[This is really a nuanced argument. It is hard to argue for obstruction. Unless they are like Greenpeace activists steering their boats into the path of the Japanese whaling fleet, how can the requirement to merely follow rules be obstruction? I would have acquiesced if he argued that the critics rely on stringent rules on dead donors, which in turns cause the number of transplantable organ to be reduced. In addition to obstruction, the Me vs MS exchanged included a disagreement on the correct use of "merely" and "only".]
MS (referring to another point): Why can't I make my point this way? Why must I have proof?
Me: Can you show me your articles? Oh, but these articles are short case studies and many discrete examples. There are no arguments in there for you to use for defending your claims.
[MS used 8 printed sides of articles, mostly from those trashy self-help websites to write a 10 page academic research paper where he intends to argue that the quality of life of patients needing transplants may be improved if the tranplant laws are relaxed.)
MS: Can't I derive my own arguments from the examples?
Me: How can you derive your arguments?
MS: I read the example and I think of an orginal argument to explain.
Me: How can an example be used to prove a claim? You need to have many examples before you can find out trends to make conjectures. Claims are advanced stuff!
MS: So what's wrong with me coming up with claims?
Me: Ok, fine. Suppose you want to argue... (look at his draft) that a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades. So where is your evidence on this?
MS: Here. (Shows me a 4 line paragraph in a 2.5 page long article.)
Me: You need to write a 10 page essay with 4 supporting articles. A point like this (a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades) will take about 3/4 to 1 page to complete. So you only one piece of evidence in the form of an example?
MS: No, no! The other two passages (out of three) also have this point.
Me: Show me.
[MS flips the 4 sides to high heavens but find nothing. I notice that the paragraphs in those two articles are mainly two to three lines long.]
MS: I can't find it now.
Me: No problem. Tell me, those two articles are also giving you examples only, right?
MS: Yes.
Me: Then what authority are you going to rely on? What kind of evidence do you have?
MS: I can write my own argument.
Me: How do you write your own argument?
MS: I use the examples and write your own argument.
Me: This isn't going to work. Look, you cannot rely on examples or mere case studies to write an argument. You need to have arguments from authorities. People who are experts in this field write claims but these claims are based on large number of cases or if they have extensively followed certain cases over a long period of time. Their arguments are therefore more believable than our own arguments. Are you a transplant expert?
MS: No.
Me: Neither am I. The point is, if your essay is going to be a rehash of the examples, then you are flogging a dead horse. What you need to do is to come up with a position or a claim and then support your position by citing the evidence you have, both from the experts and from examples. You can imagine your claim as an umbrella under which the information you find is placed below to prop the umbrella up.
MS: What's the difference? Didn't you say that if I repeat the evidence, I'm flogging a dead horse? So what are you doing differently?
Me: I have a claim which is backed up by claims from other experts and examples from them. I am quoting research and proposing to extend the boundary of the subject under discussion. I did not merely find evidence that I think will work and then fix the arguments to fit it. I make arguments that can be defended, not one that is applicable only for a case.
You are extremely good at taking things out of context. You have done it for assignment 2 and you've done badly. You've done it for the draft and done badly for it too. Now, even when I have explained what you should do, you ignore parts of what I tell you and simply take the discussion out of context and place words in my mouth.
I don't contradict myself. I am very clear what needs to go into the essay.
[MS is visibly shocked.]
In the context of the point "a legal environment that is less stringent can reduce the number of black market organ trades," what I expect to see is very clear. I will need an argument or a claim of this by some health ministry of some country, some health analyst, or some healthcare observer. I need to see evidence of black market activity in countries with stringent laws (say, Singapore) and what the people are doing to procure organs from black markets from within or beyond Singapore and I need to see a contrast example say for Iran where laws are lax and the number of black market trades is lower. This way, you can support your argument and prove your point.
Your chosen articles are way too short. There is no way you can find anything of substance or value there unless you change the articles. Examples do not an argument make. You need to appeal to the experts.
Academic research writing has a convention you have to follow. The kinds of evidence that are admissible in research are more or less restricted to a few types. You are unlikely to be able to conduct experiments by yourself to then analyse the results. You cannot depend on discrete examples to generalise (findings). Things do not work this way.
MS: So I'll need to work on the articles and find things with arguments.
Me: Yes. Don't you find it odd that your Assignment 3 articles are so elementary compared to the prescribed articles for Assignments 1 and 2? If such kiddy readings can be used for academic research, then why do I bother to kill myself by making students work on those readings?
You can decide whatever you want to do with your work but this is far from what is acceptable. Please work on it.
[MS picked up his materials after the gruelling 30 minute exchange, which was 20 minutes overtime, and walked out of the room. As he walked out and the door closed, I heard murmurs of approval from the rest of the students waiting for their turn for conferencing. Some of the students after MS credited my for my tremendous patience and not biting MS' head off. I am amazed myself.]
In the oven
In the oven now is 2 kg of pig belly meat liberally marinated with garlic (toast) mix, garlic salt, miracle salt (to clear), brown sugar, rosemary, black pepper, pinch of chilli powder, pinch of cinnamon, handful of apricots, olive oil and martini. The martini was a desparate move because I didn't have a mortar and pestle and the blender I used was unable to pick up the minute quantities to mix together.
I marinated the meat and then stuffed the centre with cranberries, tied them up, placed in a baking tray, separated the two rolled pieces of meat with two heads of smelly roses, dumped 12 shallots all round and sent it in to bake.
Underneath, I placed a smoke package containing ginger tea leaves, rice and some brown sugar. I wet the package and I may have overdone it. No smoke coming out yet but well, the oven must be a little piece of heaven now.
If this works, it'll be a recipe for the next dinner party. Yay....
PS. The meat turned out gorgeous. Succulent and with good bite. Slight crust and lean. I would do without the martini the next time, though. I am not a martini fan after all.
I marinated the meat and then stuffed the centre with cranberries, tied them up, placed in a baking tray, separated the two rolled pieces of meat with two heads of smelly roses, dumped 12 shallots all round and sent it in to bake.
Underneath, I placed a smoke package containing ginger tea leaves, rice and some brown sugar. I wet the package and I may have overdone it. No smoke coming out yet but well, the oven must be a little piece of heaven now.
If this works, it'll be a recipe for the next dinner party. Yay....
PS. The meat turned out gorgeous. Succulent and with good bite. Slight crust and lean. I would do without the martini the next time, though. I am not a martini fan after all.
The Cleaning Lady is Sick
Wednesdays - the cleaning lady is supposed to visit today.
I woke up early and cleared out the sheets, hoping that she can help me fit them in when she visited.
Then she called to say she is sick.
OMG. Now I have to fit in my own sheets. O.*||| Black eye. Sigh.
I woke up early and cleared out the sheets, hoping that she can help me fit them in when she visited.
Then she called to say she is sick.
OMG. Now I have to fit in my own sheets. O.*||| Black eye. Sigh.
Loan to refer
Some clown loaned an essay from a friend to refer to it for ideas.
He took more than ideas. He cut and pasted the source to his own essay so liberally.
And how did I find out? Remember I marked softcopy essays this time around? My comments appeared in the submitted essay even before I started grading the paper.
How silly is that?!
He took more than ideas. He cut and pasted the source to his own essay so liberally.
And how did I find out? Remember I marked softcopy essays this time around? My comments appeared in the submitted essay even before I started grading the paper.
How silly is that?!
How irresponsible is that?
A student missed the draft submission deadline last Friday. Fine, since many students asked for and were granted extensions (yes, don't doubt me, my fuse has become much longer and more inert these days), I decided to give her an extension by 24 hours to Saturday, 5 pm without her asking for it.
On Sunday just past midnight, I checked the returns against the namelists and realised five students have missed their Saturday, 5 pm deadlines. So I wrote a note to remind them to send in their papers soonest possible. I asked them not to ask for any more extensions but to send in the papers once they receive the email.
Papers streamed in. One girl placed the draft in my school mailbox on Saturday afternoon. Hey, I'm not that well-paid to go there. Another guy did the same late Friday and apologised for his shortsightedness in not sending a soft copy. No problem either.
A second girl explained she misunderstood our conversation regarding her submissions and thought she had a longer extension than that. (Of course, she did not write me the email to confirm, which I didn't bother to point out). I accepted her explanation and granted her an extension to Sunday 5 pm. See, Mr Nicer and Nicer guy, right?
Another guy wrote to say that he's still helping out with his family after his cousin got killed in an accident. Fine, he got an extension to Monday, noon.
And there is Miss Ying YIN Ack Shen, who did not bother to reply to my email. She submitted her draft on Monday at 1 pm and promptly asked to be granted a writing conference since I won't be in school on Thursday. However, on 10 Mar, I already informed the entire class of my absence and the affected students signed up for new conferencing slots! She had her excuses and her story but until she can produce the medical certificates to support her "I was very sick" excuse, I don't think she can escape the penalty for 3 absences. I mean, how sick can one be? No student can claim that s/he/it cannot contact me because my email and cellphone contacts are permanently at the top of the announcements list in the class page on the university network. Anyone, she will likely pay for her irresponsibility; one writing conference counts for 3 presences or absences for the 14-week, 28-meeting course. Good luck to her!
I cannot believe how infinitely more patient I have become but certainly, the limits still exist. Just watch it when I swipe my tail at you.
On Sunday just past midnight, I checked the returns against the namelists and realised five students have missed their Saturday, 5 pm deadlines. So I wrote a note to remind them to send in their papers soonest possible. I asked them not to ask for any more extensions but to send in the papers once they receive the email.
Papers streamed in. One girl placed the draft in my school mailbox on Saturday afternoon. Hey, I'm not that well-paid to go there. Another guy did the same late Friday and apologised for his shortsightedness in not sending a soft copy. No problem either.
A second girl explained she misunderstood our conversation regarding her submissions and thought she had a longer extension than that. (Of course, she did not write me the email to confirm, which I didn't bother to point out). I accepted her explanation and granted her an extension to Sunday 5 pm. See, Mr Nicer and Nicer guy, right?
Another guy wrote to say that he's still helping out with his family after his cousin got killed in an accident. Fine, he got an extension to Monday, noon.
And there is Miss Ying YIN Ack Shen, who did not bother to reply to my email. She submitted her draft on Monday at 1 pm and promptly asked to be granted a writing conference since I won't be in school on Thursday. However, on 10 Mar, I already informed the entire class of my absence and the affected students signed up for new conferencing slots! She had her excuses and her story but until she can produce the medical certificates to support her "I was very sick" excuse, I don't think she can escape the penalty for 3 absences. I mean, how sick can one be? No student can claim that s/he/it cannot contact me because my email and cellphone contacts are permanently at the top of the announcements list in the class page on the university network. Anyone, she will likely pay for her irresponsibility; one writing conference counts for 3 presences or absences for the 14-week, 28-meeting course. Good luck to her!
I cannot believe how infinitely more patient I have become but certainly, the limits still exist. Just watch it when I swipe my tail at you.
Updates
The minute the last assignment was graded, the drafts for the next assignment were due in and there was a tonne to grade to prepare for the writing conferences on those drafts.
I tried to grade mostly on softcopies this time. As the number of writing conferences had been reduced from 4 to 3, I no longer have the luxury to play "Joker" when marking. I had better put in the comments and direct the students what to do rather than put my infamous "HUH???" or "???" and explain during the conference. As a result, I spend more time grading. But the track function is really useful and this time around, many of the students who came to me had an inkling what to do and many of them have already started work on the drafts even before the writing conference. Some of the students needed clarifications on the comments but by and large, the outcome was good.
One thing was got my goat though. Students who were due for later conferences were bugging me for their marked drafts. This was immensely infuriating. People who know my know that my work goes out once it is complete, unless there is a good reason for holding back. I am marking my life away trying to make sense of the poor writing and yet, people are chasing for their graded stuff. This is entirely crazy. How would a student, who bugs me for work I'm trying to complete and therefore messes with my mood, be able to get me to work faster? The other thing, if the drafts were any better, I would be able to mark faster too. Alas, the latter instances were rare.
Because it was softcopy grading and I did not have the luxury to be able to hold their hands to teach them how to write, I also did rather extensive re-writing to show the kiddies how the essay should be written. Of course, I remember what I write and I also know if there are mistakes. Those mistakes are for the students to figure out and correct them. I can't be marking and grading my own work. I can surely assist but certainly, the students must put in their fair share of work.
This time around, I expect to see more exciting essays. I thought "Live/Leave" would end up being ethics intensive. But in the end, it's all about human beings. What should you do and why do you think you should/could do it? Can you clear your own moral standards for presenting it? I hope to do a second run of the course come Term 2 2009/2010. Next term, I might be jointly offering a new course - The Art Market.
My area of interets are getting wider and more and more esoteric. Who would have thought I'd be interested in the Art Market? Not me.
Let's see what happens.
I tried to grade mostly on softcopies this time. As the number of writing conferences had been reduced from 4 to 3, I no longer have the luxury to play "Joker" when marking. I had better put in the comments and direct the students what to do rather than put my infamous "HUH???" or "???" and explain during the conference. As a result, I spend more time grading. But the track function is really useful and this time around, many of the students who came to me had an inkling what to do and many of them have already started work on the drafts even before the writing conference. Some of the students needed clarifications on the comments but by and large, the outcome was good.
One thing was got my goat though. Students who were due for later conferences were bugging me for their marked drafts. This was immensely infuriating. People who know my know that my work goes out once it is complete, unless there is a good reason for holding back. I am marking my life away trying to make sense of the poor writing and yet, people are chasing for their graded stuff. This is entirely crazy. How would a student, who bugs me for work I'm trying to complete and therefore messes with my mood, be able to get me to work faster? The other thing, if the drafts were any better, I would be able to mark faster too. Alas, the latter instances were rare.
Because it was softcopy grading and I did not have the luxury to be able to hold their hands to teach them how to write, I also did rather extensive re-writing to show the kiddies how the essay should be written. Of course, I remember what I write and I also know if there are mistakes. Those mistakes are for the students to figure out and correct them. I can't be marking and grading my own work. I can surely assist but certainly, the students must put in their fair share of work.
This time around, I expect to see more exciting essays. I thought "Live/Leave" would end up being ethics intensive. But in the end, it's all about human beings. What should you do and why do you think you should/could do it? Can you clear your own moral standards for presenting it? I hope to do a second run of the course come Term 2 2009/2010. Next term, I might be jointly offering a new course - The Art Market.
My area of interets are getting wider and more and more esoteric. Who would have thought I'd be interested in the Art Market? Not me.
Let's see what happens.
Friday, March 06, 2009
The Recession in Pictures
Newsweek has done a great article comparing the current recession with past recessions.
Particularly interesting is their use of graphics. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Like graphic porn. Except financial depression pics are kind of "porn-exciting" to innocent bystanders like me, though generally not at all invigorating. The pics make me review my values and my tolerance for risk, which I am not willing to divulge.
In this context, the two pictures "The Recession Rebound", where it attempts to show none is in sight yet, and "Big, Bad Bears", where it compares how the current, ongoing recession is the next worst to the Great Depression, are probably worth two million Diazapam, I mean, jitters. Ok, TF will say "Take two Vicodin and call him tomorrow" but until you put key to lock (still on TF, that is), how can throwing "lousy wood into the fire" put the fire out? Not only do you end up feeding the fire, you choke from the noxious fumes.
Ah, but commonsense has long gone into the Great Depression since... Probligo would be an authority to write on this here.
Anyway, keep your money safe. Keep it in your pillow. Better yet, shred it and keep it in your pillow. And then join the KGB - they'll teach you how to reconsititute shredded papers; their agents successfully stole secrets by doing that during some espionage operation during the Cold War. Al's probably running one big clandestine ops in the deep mountains already.
Man, I'm bored. Time for more shopping?
Particularly interesting is their use of graphics. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. Like graphic porn. Except financial depression pics are kind of "porn-exciting" to innocent bystanders like me, though generally not at all invigorating. The pics make me review my values and my tolerance for risk, which I am not willing to divulge.
In this context, the two pictures "The Recession Rebound", where it attempts to show none is in sight yet, and "Big, Bad Bears", where it compares how the current, ongoing recession is the next worst to the Great Depression, are probably worth two million Diazapam, I mean, jitters. Ok, TF will say "Take two Vicodin and call him tomorrow" but until you put key to lock (still on TF, that is), how can throwing "lousy wood into the fire" put the fire out? Not only do you end up feeding the fire, you choke from the noxious fumes.
Ah, but commonsense has long gone into the Great Depression since... Probligo would be an authority to write on this here.
Anyway, keep your money safe. Keep it in your pillow. Better yet, shred it and keep it in your pillow. And then join the KGB - they'll teach you how to reconsititute shredded papers; their agents successfully stole secrets by doing that during some espionage operation during the Cold War. Al's probably running one big clandestine ops in the deep mountains already.
Man, I'm bored. Time for more shopping?
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Banned: Whereby
I banned whereby in my writing class. This ban extends to both speech and writing. Sigh. Someone should compensate me for the trauma.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Grading
Had been grading papers for the past two weeks.
It's been really tough marking papers that were written in the last minute.
If I get a dollar for each mistake I find, I probably am ready to put a 20% downpayment for a condominium already. And make that a District 10 condo!
It's been really tough marking papers that were written in the last minute.
If I get a dollar for each mistake I find, I probably am ready to put a 20% downpayment for a condominium already. And make that a District 10 condo!
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Grandma vs Double Decker
Morning bus to the MRT. Took 89, which was unusual, because it was not my favourite but. I prefer to take 5 or 6 instead.
Stopped at the stop opposite White Sands. There was a surge of passengers getting on the bus as I alighted.
After pushing my way through the zombie crowd either looking at their handphones or finding their momentum after getting out of bed (hey, I'm fast as long as I am on my feet, regardless of the time of day. I don't really know how to walk slowly.)
As I approached the pedestrian crossing, I happened to see a double decker bus stopped right after the bus bay exit. There was a little crowd there. It was but 6.45am and people being people, a crowd was not...
Oh, I see. There was a 60-ish old woman, rather plump, facing down. From the looks of where she lay and where the bus stop, the outcome of the match was pretty evident. Before the lights turned green for me to cross, an ambulance approached.
Hard for me to have any sympathies. She was knocked down three steps from the pedestrian crossing. No reason for her not to use the official crossing. If she decided to dash across the road, then what? I feel sorry for the bus driver though. Perhaps only drivers will have more sympathies for the bus driver.
True, it was an accident which probably could have been avoided, but often, looking at the erratic way residents of my town dash cross roads with minimal warning to the drivers, this is probably an accident waiting to happen, a life waiting to be taken.
I don't know. But maybe she died...
Stopped at the stop opposite White Sands. There was a surge of passengers getting on the bus as I alighted.
After pushing my way through the zombie crowd either looking at their handphones or finding their momentum after getting out of bed (hey, I'm fast as long as I am on my feet, regardless of the time of day. I don't really know how to walk slowly.)
As I approached the pedestrian crossing, I happened to see a double decker bus stopped right after the bus bay exit. There was a little crowd there. It was but 6.45am and people being people, a crowd was not...
Oh, I see. There was a 60-ish old woman, rather plump, facing down. From the looks of where she lay and where the bus stop, the outcome of the match was pretty evident. Before the lights turned green for me to cross, an ambulance approached.
Hard for me to have any sympathies. She was knocked down three steps from the pedestrian crossing. No reason for her not to use the official crossing. If she decided to dash across the road, then what? I feel sorry for the bus driver though. Perhaps only drivers will have more sympathies for the bus driver.
True, it was an accident which probably could have been avoided, but often, looking at the erratic way residents of my town dash cross roads with minimal warning to the drivers, this is probably an accident waiting to happen, a life waiting to be taken.
I don't know. But maybe she died...
Monday, March 02, 2009
Thermal Pot
I figured out how to cook really tasty rice in a thermal pot. In fact, I have been using the thermal pot quite a bit since it was bought. The pot was actually on sale at Giant Hypermarket for S$70 depends on the principle of heat conservation to cook your food. Instead of relying on direct sustained heat from the stove for cooking, the pot retains heat and uses it to sustain the high temperature so that food continues cooking the food slowly using the remainder heat.
In a way, this represents a saving in gas consumption. And it also does not let the food burn or boil over. Furthermore, you can leave the food inside the pot for as long as you want and even after 10 hours, the food is still warm enough that it tastes good without reheating.
For the really uninitiated, a thermal pot consists of an external insulation pot and an internal pot. Essentially, you will boil the stuff that you need to cook in the internal pot for no less than 10 minutes. Then you turn off the fire and transfer this internal pot to sit in the external insulation pot. The insulation maintains the high temperature for a long time and a few hours later, you'll actually have great stew.
The important thing is this: the food gets cooked, you save gas and you save time. It's been a good buy so far and most soups and desserts requiring extended boiling times are good when cooked this way.
The only minor adjustments that need to be done are to reduce the quantity of water and increase the quantity of ingredients. After all, the lack of evaporation will have some impact on your food.
Essentially, rice is simple. Boil the rice and the water in the internal pot for about 5 minutes (small amounts) and then lock it in the external pot for 3 hours. My goodness, when you look at those cooked, shiny glistening rice grains, tell me who's appetite won't be whetted.
In a way, this represents a saving in gas consumption. And it also does not let the food burn or boil over. Furthermore, you can leave the food inside the pot for as long as you want and even after 10 hours, the food is still warm enough that it tastes good without reheating.
For the really uninitiated, a thermal pot consists of an external insulation pot and an internal pot. Essentially, you will boil the stuff that you need to cook in the internal pot for no less than 10 minutes. Then you turn off the fire and transfer this internal pot to sit in the external insulation pot. The insulation maintains the high temperature for a long time and a few hours later, you'll actually have great stew.
The important thing is this: the food gets cooked, you save gas and you save time. It's been a good buy so far and most soups and desserts requiring extended boiling times are good when cooked this way.
The only minor adjustments that need to be done are to reduce the quantity of water and increase the quantity of ingredients. After all, the lack of evaporation will have some impact on your food.
Essentially, rice is simple. Boil the rice and the water in the internal pot for about 5 minutes (small amounts) and then lock it in the external pot for 3 hours. My goodness, when you look at those cooked, shiny glistening rice grains, tell me who's appetite won't be whetted.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
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