Haiyah

I checked the due date for my first Philosophy essay. Guess what? It's due in 3 days. How I'm going to do a 1000 word essay in 3 days is still beyond me...but nothing a few sleepless nights won't remedy. I hope. Otherwise, I'm looking at a really quick fail rate. Mwahahah.

Anyway, saw something pretty amazing tonight. Clear night sky outside, the kind that makes you feel so small in the face of it all. The half-moon shining brightly, the stars twinkling strongly...and then one of them moved. As in, it was stationary for a moment, then it started to move. Very quickly. No, I'm not under the influence. It just happened before my mortal eyes. Freaking epic. Could've been a plane, maybe an optical illusion, but I'm going to stick with my 'moving star' theory. Screw modern science and rational thought. It was magical, and that's all I need to know.

Oh, and it turns out I did mess up my wrist a bit. Which isn't good, considering that next week I have a kendo grading. And an ECON test the day after. Whoo. So, essay on Monday, kendo on Tuesday, and ECON on Wednesday...8 AM. Hahahahahahahaha. Lovely. This summer's turning out to be a lot more than I expected.

Screw it.

[End Transmission]

Ech.

I just realized my Economics paper is a whole lot easier than the one I took last semester.

To be honest, it's probably easier because I actually learned a few things back then. Also, there isn't that annoying compulsory forum section.

Which, coincidentally, forms the bulk of my Philosophy paper.

That isn't very good. But on the other hand, it'll force me to make a stand for once...even if it means getting my arse mangled by holier-than-thou Philosophy majors who always try to one-up everyone else with their thoughts.

Just kidding.

Actually, on the issue of possums in New Zealand, I believe (here we go) that they should be eliminated only if they're threatening human wellbeing. Ambiguously useful, that. Preservation of local species, perhaps for tourism or emergency food sources, may affect the welfare of humans, thus justifying the elimination of possums.

Yes, I know there's no justifying to killing. I'm taking the utilitarian view. The problem is that possums are probably already part of the NZ ecology, and getting rid of them may also cause problems in local ecosystems. Who can tell if the possums are actually doing something useful, perhaps keeping a rampant local pest from overpopulating and achieving the exact same thing DoC keeps spouting about possums? Take away all the possums (near impossible, given that they can breed and spread pretty fast), perhaps you'd leave an imbalance in the local ecology, one native species outcompeting all others. Could be just as bad as letting the possums go free, as an animal lover might argue.

Such is the joy of philosophy - you can say whatever shite you want and it'll still be valid as long as you keep it pleasantly ambiguous.

Hm.

I also seem to have injured my left wrist. Which is not good, because the Beginner Cup starts in about a month and a bit, if I've got my timetable correct. Must prove to myself that I too can fight! Yar!

[End Transmission]

My First Culinary Abortion for 2008

If cooking is half the battle, eating whatever you just cooked up is the remainder.

And if the quality of food is equal to the amount of effort and skill put into it, I should be thankful that I'm still alive today.

So on to tonight's lovely little tale. It's a story about how a seemingly innocent idea can turn out to be not-quite-so-innocent.

It's called Kakak O's Spaghetti Bolognaise with Corned Mutton.

Now, if the name didn't already scare you off, perhaps the description would.

First of all, gently heat up a frying pan. Preferably a non-stick one. I had the joy of cooking on a steel-only frying pan, and spent the rest of the evening scraping pieces of mutton fat off. And you might want to skip on putting some oil in; this'll be obvious in a few moments.

Next, open a tin of corned mutton (hopefully with a can opener or bayonet). Scoop out half the contents and dump it on the frying pan. The fat content of the mutton should be sizzling happily the moment it hits the pan, thus eliminating the need for cooking oil. Add some chopped onion if you like.

Allow the corned mutton to cook for a while. Yes, I understand it's redundant to cook something already pre-cooked, bear with me. Let it simmer in its own fat until it turns somewhat brownish.

Now dump in some tomato sauce over the pungent concoction. The ones that come in jars. Yes, those ones. What, you'd think I'd actually make my own sauce? Eh? It's cheating? Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

Hopefully, you'd have the spaghetti at least half-cooked by now. Otherwise filling your home with the rather strong smell of something that's containing bits and pieces you'd rather not see from an animal mixed with tomato sauce would have all been for nothing. Can't have spaghetti bolognaise without the spaghetti now, can we? I dare say, old chap.

Oh, you might also want to add some spice to make the sauce taste more like proper spaghetti sauce as opposed to reconstituted meat covered by tomato sauce. Correction, make that a lot of spice. I probably used up half of my pepper and oregano supply to make it not smell like a dead sheep.

So, once all this is done, the sauce cooked to taste and the spaghetti reasonably chewable, you now have the (dubious) honor of tasting it yourself. Go ahead.

By the time you finish that first bite, you might well be thinking,

"What the hell did I just make?"

Note that this is an expression of incredulity at the tomfoolery you've unknowingly committed. You have, in fact, created a culinary abortion. Note how the taste of the corned mutton contrasts to practically everything else. You are essentially eating a plate-full of dodgy sheep bits smothered in red paste and unsuccessfully disguised by spices.

You might also feel a little heavy and disoriented after that. Or you may collapse and see a bright light at the end of a tunnel, given the right circumstances. Don't worry too much, that's just the cholesterol speaking. Eating that dish probably contained the equivalent of two Double Big Macs and a generous side order of french fries. Go ahead, sleep it off. With any luck, you won't wake up seven weeks later with a catheter stuck in your nether regions.

And with that warning, I bid you all a good night (or morning).

[End Transmission]

Yet Another Late-Night Soliloquy

So I'm back.

And I'm adapting, though a bit more slowly than I'd expect myself to. The last two weeks have not been the most pleasant of re-introductions into the host culture, but personal sense of destiny (i.e. there's no way I'm going to drop out like this), kendo, and the looming threat of failure have managed to put me back in line.

And then there's the sky.

Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten. Forgotten how the stars were supposed to shine back through the inky night, celestial beings forever winking down from between the clouds. How the sunsets were not just the mundane travels our earth around the mighty star, but rather the brilliant display of so many hidden workings of the planet. How the sky can be so clear, you could feel the endlessness of outer space beyond.

Indeed, in my heart's distressed wanderings, I overlooked the many things that made me feel this place to be the right one. The reasons why I thought this was home for the next four years at least, why I thought it better than Auckland (until I found Wellington, but that's another story). In fact, I had been so sure before that I would enjoy my time here, that I would be practical and live in the now.

Of course, I'm an impractical soul. Honestly. The moment I'm reminded of the things I left behind, a glimmer of doubt breaks through. Why am I here? What am I doing here? Why should I be here? All these raced through my mind. My heart, or something close to it, pleaded for a change of place, to be out of this landlocked town in the middle of the dairy region.

I considered the options. I could easily leave. Well, easy is a relative term. I ask to be transferred, pack my bags, and scamper off to some other city in search of new grounds. But then what? I doubt I'd be happy for long wherever it is I moved into. There would be the excitement of being new, of being somewhere else...but then that would fade away into routine and I'd be stuck in this predicament once again. So, what's a guy to do?

Well, I reasoned with myself that it would only be three, four more years at the most. After that I'm pretty much welcome to bugger off wherever I please (though in reality, lack of funding will probably be an obstacle at the beginning). It's just like that night in the gym, the night I rather idiotically volunteered to watch over training equipment for instructors who had come from overseas.

Come to think of it, the conditions were eerily similar to my current predicament. Choosing without clearly thinking through the consequences. In the long term, that could be connected to me actually enrolling up in this part of the world, without having much thought on what I'd do afterwards or how I'd cope after a while. As for the gym night, I didn't think about how cold it would get (mind you, this was in winter, so it was pretty stupid to only bring a sleeping bag and sweater for warmth) or how uncomfortable sleeping directly on a wooden floor could be. As the night progressed, things became increasingly discomforting. The temperature dropped, I couldn't sleep, I didn't bring any food or water...yeah, pretty stupid. Couldn't contact anyone; it was midnight by then. I had to rest up for the following day, as there would be a whole lot more training involved and I'd miss out on too many things I'd probably never get the chance to learn again. Amidst all this, doubt began to flourish. Oh, leaving would be easy. I could just walk out the door, go home, sleep, and come back the next morning well rested. Just like that. But I'd be going against something I've promised to do. Giving up and letting down the people I had started to see as family...stay it was. In the end, I managed to sleep. I found the switch that controlled the heater fan for the gym, and could construct a makeshift bed out of some chairs. And the reward was worth it. Not only did I retain the trust and welcome from my adopted family, I also got a rare item from the most senior sensei, Yoshihiko Inoue-sensei. Oh, and some 6000 xp from surviving the two-day camp. I probably leveled up twice in that one weekend.

But I'm digressing.

The point is, this could be just like that night. A stretched out version. Staying and going through with the original plan might seem like a waste of time now...but I could always find ways of making it through. Maybe even make it enjoyable. The reward's also there. On the other hand, if I walk out the door, I could be faced with other opportunities...but perhaps not the ones I'm looking for. Either way, each action has its own set of consequences and opportunities. But for now, I'll stick with Plan A. See how it rides out. I'm already here, I've already paid...might as well make it worthwhile rather than ditching it for some other plan I haven't clearly thought out either.

In a word...meh.

p.s. To Yaz and Nda, if you guys are reading this, please know that the reason why I haven't written back is because I still have no idea what to write about. What? Write about my life? Preposterous. Compared to you guys my life is pretty much as stable as a noble gas...haha. Oh, all right. I'll write. Cheers.

[End Transmission]

Foreigner At Home

Well, now, I've put this one off for too long now.

Truth is, I don't fancy writing about being home. Why? Because it'll only serve to remind me how lonely I can get once I'm back in the real world. Not lonely in the social sense, but bereft of the comforts and love I receive and have established here. From being with my family and friends, where most of the faces and skin tones are similar to mine.

Then again, home is but the place one's heart resides...and even here I feel a subtle yearning for the solitude and peace of the great green yonder on the Australasian plate border. Not to say I am not enjoying my time here; it's just that it's no longer the home I remember it to be. And as much as I'd like to deny it, things have changed. Quite a lot, I may add.

For one thing, I seem to be a bit more distant to members of the extended family I used to be quite close with. Lack of words on both sides when face-to-face, the complacent "I'm sure he/she's doing quite well" thought flitting through our minds. Of course, I'm only here for three weeks (this one's my last, oh dear), so I wouldn't expect anything other than what I've gotten (that's the complacency on my behalf).

On the other hand, my connections to my immediate family has become a lot tighter for the most part. Specifically, my brother and cousin.

It amazed me a few months back when I saw my brother when the family visited. Now that I'm here and finding out more about him, he surprises me even more. I guess the distance did help; if before we were sick of living with each other for all these past years, now we're more like old acquaintances re-learning each other. He's started seriously thinking about relationships with women, is far more skillful with the guitar than I remembered him to be (venturing forth into songwriting, as a matter of fact), and also a bit wiser to boot. We still crack jokes at each other and appreciate all those dirty jokes, which is good. But the fact that I can now talk to him for a bit longer than three minutes is even better. Ah, and he managed to turn vegetarian. Always was a stubborn one, my brother.

My cousin, 'R', changed similarly to my brother. Well, not so much, come to think of it. I've always had an easier time talking to him rather than to my brother, but now our topics are those I wouldn't have conversed about just a year ago. Last year the main topic was his affair with basketball and highschool intrigues. Now it's still about basketball and highschool drama, but with the addition of tertiary education, work, and politics. And occasionally rubbing in the fact that I'm still single after all this time (thanks for the support, R). He's no longer a kid, he's a teen now.

The city, however, has changed quite a bit. Some places are still pretty much the same, but others are...well, changing for the worse.

With development increasing, any empty lots that could've been potentially used for even the most minute rain catchment has been/are being wiped out. The first day I was here it rained quite hard for a few hours. Trapped in my car during a traffic jam, I found myself transfixed by the sheer amount of soil just flowing out in the gutters. Amazing. The next thing I noticed was how quickly the water level was rising. Within the first fifteen minutes to half hour, it was already ankle-high (wish I had a photo to show for it). And some people say it's because of global warming? Try shoddy city planning. Or shoddy national policies, for that matter.

And that's the interesting part. Everything is interrelated, more or less. People, development, poverty, 'natural' disasters, policies, and so forth. For instance, the slow development in other provinces (especially those beyond Java) has led to people moving into the cities, especially the capital for work. Because there are more people than there is living space and work, you get a surplus of labour which ends up becoming a burden on the rest of the city. How? By occupying space that could otherwise be used productively, and generating more waste (even if it's not in plastic, people still generate bodily wastes daily). This results in slums (or at least kampungs) and waste that cannot be readily disposed of in an environmentally safe way (i.e. as in developed countries - I doubt our landfills and incinerators are adequate enough as is). The slums stop water from infiltrating into the ground, the wastes clog up the waterways, gutters, and sewers. End product - flooding.

But mind you, that's only an extremely simplified example (textbook, almost). Other factors, such as the permeability of the ground, the increasing amount of development and roads, and *sigh* climate change are also part of the equation. And not just for floods, I might add.

Next up, the Busway. In an ideal world, the Busway is a wonderful idea. It's an effective and (somewhat) punctual way of getting throughout the city on public transport. And it would be so, if society followed the rules associated with it. Hailing buses and *shudder* minibuses from the side of the fucking road when the bus/minibus in question is on the farthermost lane still seems to be far more effective than having to wait at a designated stop. At least the average person around here. There's the increasing number of people driving and riding motorcycles (helmets and common sense optional), as payments have become surprising cheaper. Add to this the fact that the Busway takes up one lane of the normal road to become a pseudo-Autobahn. If anyone said that you'd spend most of your time in a car when you live here, they may change it to 'you'll spend the rest of your life in a car if you live here'. Oh, alright, it's not that spectacularly FUBAR-ed, but it's still bad. And getting worse.

I'd also put in a little rant about the new governor, who's apparently got his dirty, stubby fingers in a lot of profitable little pies, but I simply don't have the strength or will to. The other candidate was also reputedly crooked. Lesser evil? All the same. Just like Dubya winning the elections twice, you've got to question the ability of the voters to judge who should be a leader. And at the moment, I doubt the majority of the voters are looking at anything other than their next paycheck, so it shouldn't be too surprising that they'd vote for someone who can *ahem* donate to them. Oh well. This should be interesting to see from a safe, comfy spot on the other side of the world.

Aaaand...that's a wrap. Sorry to disappoint anyone looking for anything substantial or wholly enlightening here. It's a blog. Whaddaya expect?

[End Transmission]

To Follow Up On Last Week's Post

Well, the strike didn't go so well.

No ippon for me now.

Such is life. But on the bright side, it's a first attempt, and (should I not face an early and untimely end) it will not be the last. No, siree. Not until I get my ippon.

Also, missed two sessions due to sprained muscles. Which sucks, because the last session was the last for three of our members. Gah.

[End Transmission]

What Kendo Taught Me

Strike first, strike fast, strike without hesitation.

Otherwise, you'll get struck first, and you'll never hear the end of it.

Of course, strike without preparation, you'll still get struck first.

And don't even think you can beat a ni-dan senpai with go-kyu skills. Well, you can, but you'll still get the inevitable hiding sooner or later.


Funny, the things I'm learning in kendo echo pretty much everything my parents (and religion, interestingly) taught me...which I still can't get right.

Perhaps it means that if I improve my own personality outside of kendo, my kendo will improve. And vice versa.

Or maybe I just need a lot more practice.


Yeah, that's probably it.

Boy, am I loving it.


[end transmission]