Google's latest doodle informs me that it is the eve of "MMXI". Per tradition, it is time for some reflection.
Last year, I wrote a satirical obituary to 2009, which I noted was a truly special year. In that entry, I failed to note why I considered it special.
2009 was a turning point for a number of reasons. It was the year I did my Honours, where I more or less stopped being a student in the traditional sense and started on the path to becoming a serious researcher. For the first time, I started associating, on a regular basis, with people who dabbled in science for a living. I made close friends. I found what it was like to be respected, important.
By 2010, I had realised that those new friendships were a lie, that I wasn't important at all, that the respect of others was not as important as the respect I gave myself, and that I barely respect myself at all. I realised that integrity is something which is as invaluable in science as it is hard to maintain. I realised that I had spent 2009 in some sort of naive stupor. 2010 saw me turn into a self-loathing cynic who, disgusted with her peers and her situation, tried to commit suicide by eating poorly and working late into the night, sometimes all night, often walking home at dangerous hours.
Then I realised what I was doing and applied the brakes, hard.
I've tried to be positive, I really have. This blog is sufficient evidence - how many entries reflect the true negativity of what I was feeling at the time? I tried to push - scream, shove, force - myself to be less lazy, to be less self-centered, to get up and get things done. It wasn't easy, especially when the experiments I put the most amount of effort into, fail in the most disheartening manner possible.
It wasn't easy, going to coffee with other people knowing that if I don't talk as much as I usually do, they'll know something is wrong and start asking invasive questions.
It wasn't easy, smiling at my supervisor whenever I was angry with him, speaking to him civilly even when he interrupted my work, forgiving him readily when he upset me, keeping up a cheerful facade so that he'd stop worrying only to realise that he saw right through me but didn't quite know what to do other than worry even more.
It wasn't easy, continuing to associate with people who hurt me badly and whom I still loathe and despise, simply because we collaborate in the same field.
It wasn't easy, realising how much people lie, even when they don't have to.
I said I would get to know 2010 soon enough. Except it's almost gone and I'm still not used to what this year was. I haven't fixed all the things I did wrong. I'm not ready for a new year, for a fresh start.
Well, here it will be, 2011 in six hours or so. There's never any time.
Friday 31 December 2010
Thursday 30 December 2010
Review: Magnum Temptation Chocolate
I had no photographs of this ice-cream, because I only thought of reviewing it after it was safety in my stomach. Unfortunately, prior to that, my mind was not in a state to think about the matter coherently. Simply put, this must be the ice-cream they serve in Paradise. Or possibly on first class flights aboard the A380.
(This post has now been updated with photographs. No confection can overcome my sentience.)
I came across this ice-cream by accident. I know of Magnum of course, ridiculously expensive in Singapore and significantly less expensive in Australia. I had vaguely heard that there was a new and very good chocolate flavour, so when I saw a box of it at the supermarket at a reduced price, I popped it in my shopping cart. And proceeded to forget all about it. It was only some hours after a satisfying lunch on a warm day (chicken porridge - I love porridge so much) that it occurred to me that I had something interesting in the freezer.
The first surprise was the packaging, which I admit I hadn't examined too closely before. Magnum ice-cream usually consists of three or four individual ice-cream bars on a stick, individually sealed in a plastic wrapper and packaged in a cardboard box. Instead I was confronted with a plastic-wrapped cuboid, which proved to be three separate rectangular boxes held together by the wrap. Each box was sealed with a strip of tape, with a little tab helpfully labelled with an arrow to indicate where the seal could be broken. And when you open it, you see this:
The ice-cream itself consists of high-quality Magnum chocolate ice-cream, mixed with chocolate brownie pieces and Belgian white chocolate bits, perched on a wooden stick and wrapped in dark Belgian chocolate. As if the edible part of the product was not decadent enough, it comes in a silver-lined box with a lid, atop a sheet of corrugated paper. The wooden stick holding up the ice-cream is etched with the Magnum logo and a decorative swirl. Even the shape of the ice-cream bar is not satisfied with a typical round-edged cuboid like the average Magnum - no, it flows about its support in a graceful S-shaped twist.
Magnum thought of everything. To paraphrase Sir Humphrey Appleby, this is the ice-cream Harrods would sell.
As for my recommendation, this is an ice-cream all chocolate-lovers should have once in their lifetime. There's also a caramel and almonds version, if that suits your preferences. Save up some spare cash, watch the supermarket carefully until a box of these goes on clearance, then grab it. Or, you know, just buy it. If you're one of those rich people who can afford Magnum ice-cream just like that.
(Of course I exaggerate - but consuming this ice-cream does make you feel like you ought to be incredibly wealthy. An advantage is that Magnum ice-cream is cheaper by weight than high tea at the Windsor.)
(This post has now been updated with photographs. No confection can overcome my sentience.)
I came across this ice-cream by accident. I know of Magnum of course, ridiculously expensive in Singapore and significantly less expensive in Australia. I had vaguely heard that there was a new and very good chocolate flavour, so when I saw a box of it at the supermarket at a reduced price, I popped it in my shopping cart. And proceeded to forget all about it. It was only some hours after a satisfying lunch on a warm day (chicken porridge - I love porridge so much) that it occurred to me that I had something interesting in the freezer.
The first surprise was the packaging, which I admit I hadn't examined too closely before. Magnum ice-cream usually consists of three or four individual ice-cream bars on a stick, individually sealed in a plastic wrapper and packaged in a cardboard box. Instead I was confronted with a plastic-wrapped cuboid, which proved to be three separate rectangular boxes held together by the wrap. Each box was sealed with a strip of tape, with a little tab helpfully labelled with an arrow to indicate where the seal could be broken. And when you open it, you see this:
The ice-cream itself consists of high-quality Magnum chocolate ice-cream, mixed with chocolate brownie pieces and Belgian white chocolate bits, perched on a wooden stick and wrapped in dark Belgian chocolate. As if the edible part of the product was not decadent enough, it comes in a silver-lined box with a lid, atop a sheet of corrugated paper. The wooden stick holding up the ice-cream is etched with the Magnum logo and a decorative swirl. Even the shape of the ice-cream bar is not satisfied with a typical round-edged cuboid like the average Magnum - no, it flows about its support in a graceful S-shaped twist.
Magnum thought of everything. To paraphrase Sir Humphrey Appleby, this is the ice-cream Harrods would sell.
As for my recommendation, this is an ice-cream all chocolate-lovers should have once in their lifetime. There's also a caramel and almonds version, if that suits your preferences. Save up some spare cash, watch the supermarket carefully until a box of these goes on clearance, then grab it. Or, you know, just buy it. If you're one of those rich people who can afford Magnum ice-cream just like that.
(Of course I exaggerate - but consuming this ice-cream does make you feel like you ought to be incredibly wealthy. An advantage is that Magnum ice-cream is cheaper by weight than high tea at the Windsor.)
Monday 27 December 2010
Spambox
Checked my hotmail account to see what's happening in there. Lots of spam, it seems, including the tell-tale emails from contacts who never email me, and which are obviously sent by viruses.
Geez, guys, get an anti-virus or something.
Sometimes I feel like ditching my hotmail account. All the important people know my Gmail, Yahoo or university accounts anyway.
Geez, guys, get an anti-virus or something.
Sometimes I feel like ditching my hotmail account. All the important people know my Gmail, Yahoo or university accounts anyway.
Friday 24 December 2010
spreadsheetJanitor
I give everything and receive nothing in return. The bane of my existence, and yet I cannot keep away. Sometimes I suspect that this relationship may be abusive.
I am speaking, of course, about databases. Specifically, the one which I have spent months updating. I didn't need to do it, but I volunteered and once I was in it, I was determined to do it right. I'm coming close to achieving my goal now, and there's the constant fear that at this last minute, something will destroy all the previous work.
There were three stages to the database update: cataloging all the items we needed datasheets for, obtaining the datasheets, and updating the old database to reflect the new information. For the first two stages, I had people helping me - and now, looking at how many mistakes they made which I now have to painstakingly correct, I wonder why I bothered getting help. I don't mean to sound snotty here, and I myself certainly do make mistakes myself. It's just that some of the mistakes they made are of a scale which makes me question if they were taking this seriously at all.
Well, this last part is solo, since I'm the only person who'll be working on this during the Christmas break. Hopefully I'll be able to fix everything and get it running by the new year.
So. Christmas. My first one alone.
Anyone who surmised that I'm burying myself in work to take my mind off it is absolutely correct. I don't want to think about how every other Christmas I've ever had was with my family. I don't want to think about the roast chicken and bean salad and baked potatoes and my mother's fruit salad which I'm missing on. I don't want to think about the plum pudding which, every year, my father would attempt to set fire to and fail. I don't want to think about home.
I'm not doing a very good job of it, am I?
Everything will be closed tomorrow, because Australians take Christmas Day very seriously. So it really will be me and my own company tomorrow.
No wishlist this year, but what I would like, if you are reading this, is to send me an email or add a comment below. A simple "Hi" would suffice. All I want for Christmas is to know I'm not alone.
Even if you don't say anything, I wish peace and goodwill to all of you.
I am speaking, of course, about databases. Specifically, the one which I have spent months updating. I didn't need to do it, but I volunteered and once I was in it, I was determined to do it right. I'm coming close to achieving my goal now, and there's the constant fear that at this last minute, something will destroy all the previous work.
There were three stages to the database update: cataloging all the items we needed datasheets for, obtaining the datasheets, and updating the old database to reflect the new information. For the first two stages, I had people helping me - and now, looking at how many mistakes they made which I now have to painstakingly correct, I wonder why I bothered getting help. I don't mean to sound snotty here, and I myself certainly do make mistakes myself. It's just that some of the mistakes they made are of a scale which makes me question if they were taking this seriously at all.
Well, this last part is solo, since I'm the only person who'll be working on this during the Christmas break. Hopefully I'll be able to fix everything and get it running by the new year.
So. Christmas. My first one alone.
Anyone who surmised that I'm burying myself in work to take my mind off it is absolutely correct. I don't want to think about how every other Christmas I've ever had was with my family. I don't want to think about the roast chicken and bean salad and baked potatoes and my mother's fruit salad which I'm missing on. I don't want to think about the plum pudding which, every year, my father would attempt to set fire to and fail. I don't want to think about home.
I'm not doing a very good job of it, am I?
Everything will be closed tomorrow, because Australians take Christmas Day very seriously. So it really will be me and my own company tomorrow.
No wishlist this year, but what I would like, if you are reading this, is to send me an email or add a comment below. A simple "Hi" would suffice. All I want for Christmas is to know I'm not alone.
Even if you don't say anything, I wish peace and goodwill to all of you.
Saturday 18 December 2010
Recipe: Bittersweet Chocolate Snowball Cookies
Christmas is a wonderful time of the year.
But rather than bore you with my musings, allow me to present the recipe for some lovely cookies.
(P.S.: This recipe makes an awful lot of cookies, so you may want to halve it.)
Bittersweet Chocolate Snowball Cookies
Adapted from a recipe at One Perfect Bite, which was in turn adapted from a Martha Stewart recipe.
Ingredients
100g 70% cocoa dark chocolate
125g dark chocolate
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened Dutch cocoa powder
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
100g unsalted butter, softened
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla/hazelnut extract
1/3 cup milk
Granulated sugar (for rolling)
Icing sugar (for rolling)
Melt chocolate slowly in a double-boiler. Allow to cool.
In a medium bowl, whisk flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt together, until well-blended. Separately in a large bowl, beat butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy.
Add eggs and vanilla or hazelnut extract to the butter mixture; beat well until combined. Add melted chocolate and beat until blended.
Alternate adding the flour mixture and milk to the butter mixture, mixing with a spoon until just combined. Divide the dough into four portions, wrapping each in cling film, and refrigerate until firm, for at least 2 hours.
Preheat oven to 175 degrees C. Line a baking tray with ungreased baking paper or aluminum foil.
Place the granulated and icing sugars each into a separate shallow dish. Remove a dough portion from the refrigerator, unwrap, and roll into 2 cm balls. If the dough becomes sticky, rewrap and chill in the refrigerator for 15 minutes. Roll the dough balls in granulated sugar, then icing sugar, coating the balls completely. Lightly dust off the excess sugar with your fingers.
Place the cookies onto the baking tray, spaced about 3 cm apart. Bake, one tray at a time, for 12-15 minutes until the cookies flatten and cracks form in the sugar coating. Remove from oven and place baking sheets on wire racks to cool completely. The cookies can be stored in an airtight container, layered between waxed paper, for about a week. Makes about 60 cookies.
But rather than bore you with my musings, allow me to present the recipe for some lovely cookies.
(P.S.: This recipe makes an awful lot of cookies, so you may want to halve it.)
Bittersweet Chocolate Snowball Cookies
Adapted from a recipe at One Perfect Bite, which was in turn adapted from a Martha Stewart recipe.
Ingredients
100g 70% cocoa dark chocolate
125g dark chocolate
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened Dutch cocoa powder
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
100g unsalted butter, softened
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla/hazelnut extract
1/3 cup milk
Granulated sugar (for rolling)
Icing sugar (for rolling)
Melt chocolate slowly in a double-boiler. Allow to cool.
In a medium bowl, whisk flour, cocoa, baking powder and salt together, until well-blended. Separately in a large bowl, beat butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy.
Add eggs and vanilla or hazelnut extract to the butter mixture; beat well until combined. Add melted chocolate and beat until blended.
Alternate adding the flour mixture and milk to the butter mixture, mixing with a spoon until just combined. Divide the dough into four portions, wrapping each in cling film, and refrigerate until firm, for at least 2 hours.
Preheat oven to 175 degrees C. Line a baking tray with ungreased baking paper or aluminum foil.
Place the granulated and icing sugars each into a separate shallow dish. Remove a dough portion from the refrigerator, unwrap, and roll into 2 cm balls. If the dough becomes sticky, rewrap and chill in the refrigerator for 15 minutes. Roll the dough balls in granulated sugar, then icing sugar, coating the balls completely. Lightly dust off the excess sugar with your fingers.
Place the cookies onto the baking tray, spaced about 3 cm apart. Bake, one tray at a time, for 12-15 minutes until the cookies flatten and cracks form in the sugar coating. Remove from oven and place baking sheets on wire racks to cool completely. The cookies can be stored in an airtight container, layered between waxed paper, for about a week. Makes about 60 cookies.
Saturday 11 December 2010
Wednesday 8 December 2010
I < 3 GBR
The Great Barrier Reef's status as one of the seven natural wonders of the world is completely, completely deserved. That is really all there is to say on the matter.
Photos and coherency will arrive in a later update. Still needing sleep right now.
Photos and coherency will arrive in a later update. Still needing sleep right now.
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