Time Will Tell

I am all for a little complexity in life. After all, that is what keeps us peppy and full of zing what? But I don’t understand how the time change twice a year is useful. Complex yes, but useful no. Probably in the days of yore if I’d been an old farmer’s daughter, and the extra hour of sunshine meant the difference between having water and milk as opposed to strawberries and cream for breakfast. Now, even if you fill me up to my eyes with daylight, I am not sure I am going to gorge out on those strawberries with the oh-so-sinful cream. So why do we still go about with this bother?

Why do I sound this piqued for something this normal and predictable? Well..it is the unpredicability of it all. You know how your computers automatically fall back an hour in the fall or spring forth an hour in spring? I expected my phone to do that too. It did.

I have the alarm set for a reasonable hour every morning on weekdays and what do you think the correct time showing cell-phone did to me? It rang an hour earlier than it was supposed to. Now, I am a great snoozer eh..snooze-presser. I love hitting snooze, but even I thought an additional hour of this encumbrance can ruin the joy of the early morning snooze because as with all regular snoozes, this cell phone does not allow you to indicate the time limit in which to remind you again. So, 10 minutes later, I will be fumbling again and then again in 10 minutes afterward. Exciting as mornings go, this doesn’t appeal to me very much when the clouds of sleep are still gathering around and singing me my lullabies. So, I dismissed the alarm and set a mental alarm to get up an hour later.

Only the agile mind sprang forward an hour like an over-zealous tiger making it two hours after the alarm went off. The scramble that ensued is not for the public eye to discern and dissect while shaking their heads in dismay, and has been withheld.

One news article claims setting it to airplane mode for a while helps. I may do that, but if I forget to set it back, will it still arouse me, or assume I am travelling by airplane and my fellow passengers deserve to sleep better and flip out on me again?

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20110314/ap_on_hi_te/us_iphone_glitch

Time will tell ….

Fear

Charlie Sheen seems to have spread himself thin with all the attention he is getting for himself. Not that I am a particular fan of his, but there is something disconcerting about how much people are interested in the life of the rich and the famous.

Here is an article written by Scott Adams on his dilbert.com/blog about Charlie Sheen.
http://dilbert.com/blog/entry/charlie_sheen/
He went on to claim that he had the feeling he knew no fear. Which can explain some of the candidness, but also brings me neatly to the next new article about the couple who got themselves arrested for trying to instill a sense of fear in their unruly six year old.

http://thestir.cafemom.com/big_kid/116709/parents_arrested_for_scaring_daughter?quick_picks=1&utm_medium=sem2&utm_source=outbrain&utm_campaign=outbrain&utm_content=outbrain_feb_test

The parents sought to frighten the child by taking her along to the police station and showing her what happens to bad people. I am not going to go into the merits and demerits of the case, but it seemed like a classic case of seeking out trouble.

Of course, reading about fear brought me to this news article that appeared a while ago, about a woman so fearless that nothing deterred her.
http://www.cbc.ca/technology/story/2010/12/17/fearless-woman-study.html

So, how much fear is good fear and necessary to bolster a crime-free society and how much too much or too little?

Or is the thing to fear fear itself?

Mourning for books

I read the sad news that Borders declared bankruptcy this morning and it plans on closing the store in my small town. Now, I am depressed. First Barnes & Nobles closed, and now Borders. A co-worker asked me in concern if everything was okay because I looked so shocked and unhappy.

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2011-02-16/borders-book-chain-files-for-bankruptcy-protection-with-1-29-billion-debt.html

That leaves no bookstores in my town. My family outings revolve around going to the bookstore and reading up with coffee and buying some book(s) almost every visit. The smell of the books excite me and that brings me to e-books.

I own a kindle, but I must confess, the few books I have on my device do not hold the kind of dearness to my heart that books made of paper hold. For one, when I read a good book, I like the essence of the book to linger for a while. I like to randomly open up pages and just immerse myself into the world again. I don’t like to have to search for a page and then go there. That feels too calculated – not the kind of lovely-aunt-dropping-by for a surprise visit anymore.

As I glance upon my bookcase, each object has a personality. A unique one. I know when the heart will start to feel a-flutter in each object. I know when I am just meandering through for laughs. Each books personality is there for me to savour, to go back to anytime I want to.

But I find all of those feelings missing in the E-books. I know a number of my friends who have adapted easily to the e-books and swear by them. For me, the charm simply isn’t there, and that means that I am losing out on a big part of what I term enjoyable with the e-crusade.

As my daughter and I meander through the shelves picking out books to read, I wonder, how I will recreate this feeling of being together in the E-world. Browsing for them doesn’t feel the same.

I feel lost.

Valentine Cockroaches

My college days found me staying in what roughly can be called a ‘hostel’. Only it wasn’t. It was a house that converted into shared lodgings for 30 odd girls. There is a whole saga of my life there in that hostel that would simply take up reams of space. Dining in the place was a simple problem. We had asked one of the messes nearby to bring us our food to the tin shed that doubled up as our dining hall.

I have often wondered how these eateries got the name, ‘Mess’, and it dawns on me that it is probably the mess that is all around that contributes to the name. Anyway, this particular mess that served our food was not the best, it certainly wasn’t the most hygienic. One day, as we were sitting with the sambar floating in our plates over the rice, one of my friends asked me to check whether the red chilli in the sambar looked red chilli enough. I gave her a feverish look. That day was one of the days, I was genuinely hungry and the watery sambhar even looked savory from a distance. It wasn’t as brick reddish as usual and I was rather looking forward to it. I gave her a look of disdain that was entirely lost on her. She was too busy staring into her plate. So, I joined the band of observers and it did seem a little strange that the red chilli should have sprouted little feet and arms. There were distinctly there.
“Maybe, the chilli split in that odd manner.” I said unconvincingly, only to have my co-observers give me a look of disdain. What goes around comes around I tell you.

And so it was that despite my best intentions to believe otherwise, the offender was classified as a cockroach. UGH!

In other news,Valentine’s Day is here, and the daughter is all a-twitter. I have been asked several times what I consider to be the most important day of February. There is love in the air. This time, with all the attention this day is getting in her life, I thought it a rather bright idea to see what is it that other folks were getting the loves of their lives. The roses and the chocolates I knew, but what I did not know was this….

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20110211/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_valentine_cockroaches;_ylt=AqHiIYNehXxlvYRA3zuFdHvtiBIF;_ylu=X3oDMTMzc2EyY2hiBGFzc2V0A25tLzIwMTEwMjExL291a29lX3VrX3ZhbGVudGluZV9jb2Nrcm9hY2hlcwRwb3MDNwRzZWMDeW5fYXJ0aWNsZV9zdW1tYXJ5X2xpc3QEc2xrA3JvYWNoZXNhcmVmbw–

Here is a gift – I don’t know if any, but die-hard naturalists would consider the gift romantic, but there it is. The chance to name one of the species of cockroaches for now and ever more is the Valentine’s Day Gift.

Given that the creatures do not kindle any loving instincts in me – in fact the only images they kindle in me are those watery sambhar images, I think I’ll pass.

Modern Philosophers Stone

While the alchemists of yore spent their days figuring out the ultimate method of turning copper into Gold, it seems to me that modern alchemists will be better rewarded if they were to spend time finding the weight cure – the ultimate food source that can miraculously keep our muscles toned and our cholesterol healthy, no matter what we eat, how much we eat and where we eat. The ideal concoction will allow us to wallow like sloths and look and feel like cats. Recently, Dr. Oz proclaimed on the Oprah show that African Mango is probably the best bet for weight loss. Could it be the Philosopher’s Stone for Weight Loss?

http://www.post-sentinel.com/

Now all we need is for a food magnate to take 1 gm of African mango and juice it up with 98 gms of sugar and proclaim to the world that 16 oz of this at and between meals will keep you slim and healthy for the rest of your life, unless you develop diabetes before that.

That is what seems to have happened to good old popcorn. The lovely snack to pop at the movie theatre, till theatres decided this should happen.

http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/11/19/popcorn/

Small portion size – GOOD, big portion size – BAD!

Sneeze Freeze

The past week has been rough. The nose acted up and sneezed its way through nights and what should have been tasty meals.

I remember someone telling me during my highly impressionable youth that if you stared at a bright light when you feel like sneezing, the sneeze will freeze midway through. So, you can go back to normal from a eyes-puckered-stomach-clutched-eyes-watering stance to a normal one without even sneezing. It has happened once or twice and always makes me laugh. So, I spent one morning staring at the Sun every few minutes. After this enlightening experience, I tottered into the home partially blind only to bang into sofas and chairs placed in my path while sneezing just as hard as before.

Imagine then, how special I felt when I saw the world took note of my misery and decided to have a program on National Public Radio about sneezing.

http://www.npr.org/2011/02/07/133499190/what-ah-choo-can-do-for-you

I smiled through my sneezes the whole way through. Apparently, there are some folks who seem to react with sneezes at unexpected stimuli – like while eating mint. Throw something like this at me, and I had to try. I popped some mint into my mouth to see whether I would sneeze more, but as it turns out, I belong to the category who does not sneeze at mints. In fact, I seemed to belong to the category that stifled sneezes with mint. I laughed – a deep, villainous laugh at my system. I scoffed at the sneezes that I paralyzed within me using the simple method of having couple of mints, and boarded my train.

Usually mints are supposed to keep you fresh and awake. But the sudden stoppage in the sneezing, meant my body saw this as perfect opp. to catch a snooze and before I knew it, I was dozing with a minty freshness that little things like railway announcements could not tap me out of. I slept clean past my station, and spent the fresh morning hours grumpily waiting on an alien platform, waiting for a train to chug in – in the opposite direction. When something like this happens, the world suddenly seems to set itself in slow motion. I spent the precious moments musing all the while that if a sneeze out of my system can make it at 40 mph, why can’t I feel like I am getting somewhere at that speed?

The article ends on this enigmatic note
“Want to stifle a sneeze? It’s possible, Meltzer says. Just press hard on the bridge of your nose.”

I just might have my nose in a bandage when you see me next, but you know why.

Privacy & Security

Facebook has a method of making even the initiatives geared towards privacy awkward. I just realised that when you created a group and called it something, it emails folks you added to the group telling them exactly what you did. So, if I have a group of folks who I choose to classify as ‘Casual acquaintances’, they get an email saying “You have been added to ‘Casual acquaintances’ by ‘nourishncherish'”. Sometimes, casual acquaintances don’t have qualms but there are folks there who aren’t casual about slights such as these especially when you spoke so warmly to them every time those 3 times you met them in the last five years.

One automatically cannot have creative groups such as ‘I used to sock them at football’ or ‘Steer clear of’, not that people do, but they may wish to. And that is my point, you can’t tell people that you are adding them to a classification. You have the classifications and you use them, but don’t tell them.

I can’t imagine the number of issues this kind of thing can wreak in the lives of high schoolers for instance. Just imagine what happens when ‘Best friends’ and ‘Close friends’ compare notes at your party?

I don’t know if there already are, but it may just be a good idea to have some sociologists ponder over the technical designs before implementing them.

While we are busy discussing the privacy settings, Facebook Founder, Mark Zuckerberg’s fan page was hacked into yesterday.

http://technolog.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/01/25/5916863-mark-zuckerbergs-facebook-fan-page-hacked

I can’t imagine the security team’s pressure now!

Fox shoots man

Fox shoots man : http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE70C5Q620110113

I don’t remember the time the tide turned in my favour, but it was around the time I shot that man. I hadn’t been a particularly obedient cub, and my mother would always discipline me for being lax about security.
“It would never do to nap where people can see you Loxim. What if you are injured?”

I was one of those calm sorts, and ignored everything she said, unless she was particularly hysterical, in which case, I would make my ears droop and the shoulder hunch and sit down with a sorry looking expression on my face. She couldn’t stay angry at me for long, for I never once lost my temper or fought back. She told Papa proudly that I was one to be watched as all my pent-up anger is bound to come leaping out of me in one shot one day.

I would then go straight back to napping on the rocks by the ledge. One had to accept the beauty of my favorite spot – the best sunshine with bright, fat rabbits hopping up and offering themselves up to you. Then one day, this buffoon of a man came and tried to attack me. I wasn’t particularly pugnacious, but you can’t sock me on the skull with a long stick and expect me to keep quiet. He kept hitting me and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I just used up all my concentration, and Mama was right. All my pent up anger came out in one shot  – it was a loud ringing noise, and the man looked agonized.

I was so scared of what I’d done, that I ran away myself and watched from afar. One thing was certain, my pent-up anger had caused the man distress. Maybe I was one of those rare specimens meant to be watched. I was scared, but proud too. I limped to my mother and told her what had happened. If she felt awed then, she did not let on. She just cuddled me, but after that I was the indisputable king. Other foxes tucked their tails behind their legs and fled when they saw me, rabbits froze in my presence.

I have not displayed my super-natural powers ever since, but they all know it is lurking within me, and that is good enough for me!

Are you a Terrorist?

I read an illuminating article about how to spot a terrorist. The article told me that if I saw somebody buying hydrogen peroxide at Home Depot, I must follow him and make sure he buys gas or garbage butoxide that are all elements in making explosive. If I am certain, then I must inform the police. This left me wondering on so many levels as to what these informative articles are supposed to achieve.

Aa far as the terrorist is concerned, he is given a checklist to steer clear of. This reminds  me of the time, one Senior Assistant commissioner of our town gave a talk that was designed to instruct and aid.

There was an increase in the number of robberies about town and the Assistant Commissioner’s sense of duty beckoned him till he could ignore it no more. He came on television. What we really expect  a man with a large moustache and formidable stomach wearing a police uniform to do is of course, just twirl it (the moustache I mean, not the tummy) impressively and hearten our souls by saying the whole police force is stumped by the problem and are working round the clock in solving it. Why? Even yesterday, three of his constables had tea at 3 a.m. in the neighborhood that the most recent robberies took place in, along with some men of questionable intentions. More tea stalls are being constructed in the vicinity to aid the robberies. That was all he needed to do.

Instead what did the gallant man do? He came on television and said, “I am going to give you some tips on how not to get robbed.” He started light – “Lock your door”, “Close your windows” kind of instructions and swiftly moved onto juicier topics. “Do not leave your valuables in steel cupboards under lock and key. That is where robbers look first. Take them and hide them in the kitchen. That is the place they will not think of checking.” he said and beamed rather freely at the audience. I don’t whether the man was expecting all television viewers to stand up in honour or what, but he beamed for a full minute after this gem.

This man, because of the graciousness of his position, was allowed to come and make a statement like that instead of being muted out of office. There was an uproar, because of course folks were hiding their valuables in the kitchen or elsewhere before this man came and told the robbers where to start. Even the extra tea stalls were quite unnecessary since the robbers just made themselves comfortable in the kitchen during the quest.

The intention as always is good. If only his force had asked the men at the tea stall whether they were robbers, he could have come on television a victorious man, a man who knew what he was facing. Please head on over to this link to see what I mean.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1336571/Terrorism-Can-really-stop-bomber-asking-Are-terrorist.html

This article about security checks in Israel interested me. Reminds me that we often forget the direct and obvious. Very few people can lie convincingly when posed the question, “Are you a terrorist?” Turns out that Israel has been using this simple method to weed out potential terrorists with remarkable results. Full body scans can reveal articles of questionable intent, but not the intent. People to people questioning can expose intent.

Santa’s Lap for Leopards

When you visualize somebody sitting on Santa’s lap, who do you visualize? I imagine tiny tots, the wonder of seeing a surreal grandfather doling out laughs and asking what they’d like for Christmas. Most Santas I’ve seen ask loudly what they would like for Christmas, then liberally spot the answer with “Ho Ho Ho”s so the parents wouldn’t miss the crux, and repeat the child’s wish. That’s just what this veteran Santa was doing for twenty years every Christmas outside Macy’s in San Francisco’s Union Square.


What must happen, but this year, the fates deigned otherwise and he was fired because he cracked a joke to a couple who took offense when they sat on his lap. Now reading parts of this story had me wondering – why do adults want to sit on Santa’s lap?

I looked it up and it turns out the average weight of a adult man equals that of a leopard that has spent more time eating than exercising his muscles – the higher end of the scale in other words. The obese leopard. The one huffing and puffing after a bison in the forests, while looking wistfully at the deer and the zebras. Would this man who plonked his weight on Santa be willing to carry an obese-leopard everyday as part of his job and not even joke about it? Come to think of it, Santa might have been better off having obese l’s on his lap, as they would not have take offense to this joke:

When the couple asked why Santa’s jolly, he reportedly responded by telling them he knows where all the naughty boys and girls live.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/12/06/MNC91GML7O.DTL

Why people with no sense of humour would want to sit on Santa’s lap beats me.