In Before 2013

Haa, I quite like this time of the year. Time is continuous, so the idea of it "ending" at predetermined points is silly and very human, but humans do make things up for a reason. For instance, we do a great deal of reflecting - what we've done before, what we'll do in the future, whether life exists only here or beyond what can be attributed to Earth - so it makes sense to have a stopping point, to sit down and think.

I think I've had a good year. I've been very calm all year, only the occasionally frothing rage at someone mucking up the database FOR THE THIRD TIME! But you know, it's been mostly mellow so far. I realise how good things have been when I look at others who haven't achieved the same stability. I'd like to step in and fix things for them, but there's only so much an outsider can do. Personal peace can only be achieved on your own, I think.

The world didn't end. I'm a bit disappointed, it might have been interesting.

David Wong, a columnist for Cracked, recently published an article which is well worth reading. (I'll also note that he's rather given to using profanity in his writing.) It would have been nice if this article had been around while I was an idiot teenager/adolescent, but I suppose I should be glad that I learnt those lessons without the help of an Internet writer. You kids and your newfangled technologies.

It's now half-past three. Time for some cake!

Cinderella

I like this version.

I'm almost done packing, the flight home is tomorrow. Heh, it's almost routine now.

Cold Hard Gunk

Both of my housemates just moved out, leaving me the sole possessor of the fridge. The filthy, filthy fridge. I spent a few hours boiling up some water, pouring it over the unidentifiable brown coagulated material under the crisper drawers, scrubbing it down with a scouring pad, wiping everything down with mild bleach, then mild soapy water, then water twice, until everything was white and non-sticky once more.

Also, before I could start, I had to clear the bottom rack from liberal sprinklings of what looked like dried goji berries. Housemates, what the heck?

The freezer needs a good scrubbing too. But first, let me catch my breath.

Mirror, Mirror

The title text to this xkcd comic describes a famous trick question:

"When you look at words in a mirror, how come they're reversed left to right but not top to bottom? What's special about the horizontal axis?"

The answer is fairly obvious (they're reversed left to right because that's how you flipped the text around in order to face it towards the mirror), if slightly counter-intuitive, because it is easy to confuse the idea of a reflected image with a reversed image. It's also easy to prove that the premise of the question is incorrect - write a word on a sheet of paper, and then turn it top to bottom to face the mirror. Oh hey, the word is now upside-down, but not remotely flipped from left to right!

The question of what's special about the horizontal axis needs to be taken separately from the mirror. Or rather, why do we feel compelled to turn a sheet of paper or a book from left to right when turning it towards a mirror, rather than top to bottom, diagonally or any other angle out of the three hundred and sixty available? 

I thought it might something to do with the way we read horizontally, and therefore someone accustomed to reading top-to-bottom would turn the paper in that direction instead. My father contended that, since our feet are stuck to the ground by gravity, we are accustomed to move along the horizontal axis.  If you're in a dressing room and want to take a look at the back of your outfit, you twist yourself left or right about your waist - it never occurs to you to bend forward or backward until you can see your reflection, possibly because you're simply not flexible to do that anyway.

It's a bit funny though, how we don't even stop to think about such things. Or about astronauts in zero-gravity environments who might have a different perspective on things.

2013 is at the Door

So, I'm coming home soon! I didn't expect to be so casual about it, but I suppose I'm getting used to it. This time, when I asked my mother what she'd like me to bring back, there was no polite waffling about. She had a list.

I've been getting started on my Christmas shopping. At one point I was in the ABC Shop, a Very Dangerous Place, all the DVD box sets for various favourite shows lined up, price tags cunningly hidden on the back. I resolutely turned away - and immediately locked eyes on the Doctor Who shelves. The ones with the price tags proudly displayed on the front, because the DVD sets were discounted to less than two-thirds of the regular price. 

It was a well-planned ambush. I picked up Season 2 of the new series, justifying it as a Christmas present to myself, because it contained my very favourite episodes which I was sure to re-watch over and over again, and in no way was a squandering of hard-earned cash on frivolities. As I conveyed my new property towards the cashier, I turned back briefly to Season 1 and said - not out loud, that would be weird - I said, "I'll be back for you." Yes, The End of the World and Dalek would be mine. They would be mine someday, to rewind over every single frame, but for now I would bide my time.

Incidentally, the cashier was so not helpful. "You got a real bargain there, luv!" she exclaimed, as she scanned the barcode. "Wouldn't you like to get the rest of them? Bit rare, for the price to be down this much."

I got it home and watched everything. Twice. (For the commentary, you see.)

So anyway! People have been asking me for wishlists. I find wishlists to be rather troublesome things these days, honestly. After that awful Christmas which I spent by myself, even the mere company of those I love has become a blessing. It's hard to write a wishlist, because if I list the things I'd like to have, it would be endless, while the list of things I need is empty.

I do acknowledge that wishlists are useful for gauging the sort of things a person likes. Preferences change after all - last Christmas, my brother fancied the gift I got for my mother (Planet Earth, narrated by David Attenborough) and largely ignored what I had picked out specially for him. If that is the case, perhaps a list of my preferences would be more helpful?

I like blue, green and burgundy, and I prefer silver to gold. I eschew most cosmetics, but I like perfume and nail polish. I like cookies and scones and bread and cakes, and I like making them. I love both tea and coffee, but especially tea. I like sharks - oh come on, that's obvious. I like spiders, and badgers, and elephants and parrots and dinosaurs. Cats are alright, I guess. I like robots of various types. I like science fiction. As you can see from some previous paragraphs, I acquired a fondness for Doctor Who, particularly David Tennant's tenure. Actually, I'm inclined to watch anything with Mr. Tennant in it, even if they are otherwise contrary to my tastes. The same goes for Stephen Fry - gosh, have I mentioned that I love QI? I do, I really do! It's like the most interesting trivia contest in the world!

I'm a huge nerd! I love my bacteria! I love the periodic table! I love π, I love φ, Pythagoras' theorem, the elegance of DNA replication, Occam's razor, the oceans, the sky when it's about to rain, Mount Fuji, skyscrapers, suspension bridges, the Moon, the whole world and all its sights and sounds, boomdeyada boomdeyada!

Sorry, got carried away there.

See, this is why I can't write wishlists.