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Victor and I have seen these cropping up all over Cambridge. Everyday, it seems like we find a new instance of “Not Art”. And by we, I really just mean he. His camera on his new iPhone is being put to good use, at least, documenting urban not-art.
It’s been a while since this blog was active. I don’t have a good idea going, and I’m still uncomfortable sharing in such a public forum, but I think it’s time I started writing again. First post coming soon. I’m not sure what to do with all of the archives …
It’s been a good long ride guys, but for now I’m done blogging. I don’t have much I want to share on here lately, and most of you are being disappointed with lack of updates anyways when you click here.
Maybe at some later point, I’ll feel the desire to type again … we’ll see.
For now, thanks, and virtual homage to you for getting the title reference.
Despite now having lived in a big city for three years, I still don’t have the survival-essential city instincts. I don’t automatically assume that everyone may be out to mug me, and when people ask me for directions, I always stop to help. At one point, I did wonder why I seemed to be targeted especially frequently for directions. Back then, I didn’t really feel/realize the need to be more selective about stopping to talk to strangers, so I always helped.
This past week, while in Toronto, I walked home one night by myself (I had an early flight to catch; others in my group wanted to go out). I know one shouldn’t walk alone after dark, but really, what was I supposed to do? I didn’t have money for a cab (Canadian or US).
Walking along, I barely noticed a car stopped on the side of the street … Having already passed the car, I was surprised when the driver said something to me. City Instinct Girl (CIG) would have just kept walking, but my first gut reaction was to stop, turn around and very politely ask “What’s that?”
The man asked me for some directions. CIG would have walked off, or at the least perhaps made up something. I actually said “Sorry, I don’t know; I’m not from around here.” Mistake #2 in the books of city instincts: Reveal that you are not familiar with the area.
At this point, some form of instinct did kick in, and I turned on my 3-inch heels and walked away, ignoring anything else the man said (which included various ways to try to entice me for further conversation: “Oh? So where ARE you from?”, “Where are you walking to?” etc etc)
The moral of this story was that I need to gain some city instinct, be more alert/aware of my surroundings. It’s better to seem rude and offend a stranger (he’s a stranger!) than to put myself in any potential danger. I know I should do this (and I will try), but at the same time, I can’t help feeling a tinge of disappointment that our society has come to this.
Must be the southern-upbringing.
I’m in Toronto for a conference on tissue engineering, and all of the talks started today. For the first time ever at one of these conferences, I saw people taking pictures of presentations with digital cameras. Whenever a new slide gets shown, or even sometimes when animation on a single slide gets changed, someone would take a picture. Is this a new form of note-taking? It really struck me as rather odd.
My first reaction was one of shock: “Oh my god, are they allowed to do that in this day and age of oversensitivity to IP??” Then I reasoned that taking a picture of a presentation slide is not that much more damaging considering that the content is being presented orally anyway (and theoretically available on the abstract CD). But the whole concept still felt somewhat off to me. If I were presenting, I’d be pretty thrown by cameras pointed at my slides snapping images as I paced through my presentation.
Perhaps more interestingly, the presentation-slide-photographers are almost entirely Asian. Seeing that the conference boasts attendees from 20 different countries, I wonder if the cameras are an emerging trend in Asia-hosted scientific meetings that got carried over here to Toronto/North America through the venue of an international conferece.
I always knew the Harry Potter books were getting longer and longer with each one that she writes, but it never sunk in as much as when I saw this picture of the boxset while browsing through Amazon:
For serious, check out the difference in thickness between the first book (reasonable) and the 4th, 5th, 6th, and now 7th (ridiculous). Maybe she figures that the 10-year-olds who first started reading the first book in 1999 were 14/15 by the time the 4th book came out, and are now 18, and so would have no problem handling 500-page books. My question is just how necessary was it to have a 500-page book?
Her first book wasn’t 500 pages, no doubt, because her publisher/editor/common sense told her that she can’t sell a book 500 pages long for 10-year-olds. So edit she did, but somehow as the books got more popular, the editing became superfluous because she knew the books would fly off the bookstore shelves no matter what. Granted, the last one (Half-blooded Prince) was quite good and moved along at a good pace, so I didn’t so mind the length. But I remember reading the 4th one (Goblet of Fire) and getting so frustrated with page after page of descriptions of the Gryffindor common room. Was that really necessary? Just get on with the story!
So I’m curious as to just how successful she will be in “getting on with the story” in this 7th, and last installment (Deathly Hollows). I’m sure I’ll feel differently when I get to the last page and realize that I really do want to know more, but for now, I’m glad that this whole Harry Potter thing will soon be over.
You know how some websites make you enter in a “security code” when you sign up? The code is usually some image file of numbers and letters and deters pattern-recognition software by slightly jumbling up the lines that form the letters/numbers. I guess the purpose is to prevent bots from hitting the site and spam registering.
The problem is that half the time, I can’t even make out what the letters and numbers are supposed to be. The lines are too squiggly that I can’t tell if something is supposed to be a “b” or a “6″, for example. So I enter in what I think the code is, and I’m told that my registration failed because I did not input the security code correctly. Grrr
I’ve had the worst luck with blogspot blogs that require logging in for commenting; those codes are the by far the toughest to decipher.
In a society of bigger is better, toilet paper rolls are now bigger than ever. What with double rolls, triple rolls, even quadruple jumbo rolls, it’s hard to buy a pack of regular, single-rolled toilet paper. Which raises the question: just what constitutes a single roll of toilet paper?
This question came to me when I saw “4 rolls = 8 rolls!” on the outside of a pack of 4 rolls of Cottonelle while ruminating the meanings of life in the bathroom. You don’t have to be an Asian whiz math kid to realize that there’s something wrong with that equality, not to mention that the pack clearly had only four physical rolls of toilet paper inside. What do you mean there are 8 rolls in there? Maybe my eyes are failing me again…
Clearly, these are all indications that the 1x single roll, whatever it may be, is simply too small. I think it’s high time for the toilet paper industry to stop lying to us (that or learn how to count). My pack of 6 jumbo rolls of Charmin does not equal 24 rolls. That’s just bullshit waiting to be wiped up.
One thing I like about going to the local REI is interacting with the cute nerdy guys who work there. As soon as I walk in, they come up to ask if I need help with anything, always so friendly, smiling, and so obviously in love with their sport(s) of choice. As I walk by them standing in aisles, deep in conversation with other customers, I always eavesdrop and smile to myself when I hear them so passionately explaining why welded seams are better than stitched, or why the nozzle of one floor pump is better than the other brand.
I always wonder how these cute nerdy sporty boys would be as boyfriends (I mean, they’re cute, so why not think more serious? :). They’re laid-back, outdoorsy, LOVE gear (hey, they’re selling it, and REI is that kind of a place where they hire people to sell stuff they believe in) … what’s there not to love, right?
Then I think, they probably wouldn’t ever want to put on a suit, or a tux, or go to fancy restaurants with me. That’s the problem with cute nerdy guys who work at REI. They can rattle off bike gear ratios, but they don’t know what cuff links are.
The local burrito shop puts their burritos in these brown paper bags for take-out. Recently, the bags started touting an advertisement for Tri State Trek, a 270-mile bike ride from Boston to New York (through three states). When I saw this for the first time earlier today, I thought “wow, cool. I’m looking for something to train for this summer, why not a bike ride?”
So I went to the website and checked it out. That’s when I found out that it’s a fundraising event, which then immediately turned me off to the race. Registration for this event is $135, and each rider must raise a minimum of $1650. The cause is a good one, Lou Gehrig’s Disease … but I just don’t do well with fundraisers.
This makes me think about recent solicitations I have gotten from friends in the past doing raises for a cause, asking for donations. If I remember (and I try to remember), I do almost always go and contribute some small amount. So why am I so skittish about doing one of these things myself? I’m not sure. I guess I’m afraid of bugging people; I don’t want to make people feel obligated.
So I think, did I feel obligated to give to my friends in the past? To be fair, I think I did feel a certain level of obligation; I probably wouldn’t have ever contributed to these charities otherwise. This latter point is probably why these races happen: the charities really can raise money from it, and from people who otherwise wouldn’t have given anything but do because their friends and family are bugging them.
I don’t know … maybe one of these days, I’ll get over whatever complex I have against these things. In the meantime, I’ll just continue my small donations to friends undertaking ginormous tasks of raising money for charity through completion of feats of endurance and strength.