Manual Primer
Wherever you drive, however you drive, there are always going to be people who complain about your driving. I experience this all the time, even from people who are quite horrific drivers themselves. I decided once that I'd try and find a "neutral" party to give me some tips to compare my driving to some kind of standard. Of course this would apply to those of us driving stick, or manual.
Well, I found one such site - http://www.interlog.com/~css/manualprimer.htm - and realised there might be others who felt the same way but were too ashamed to ask. I know, expeienced drivers hate asking such basic questions, but the itch is there... well, I hope this helps: some tips on driving manual shift.
If you know of better links, please comment!
Monday, October 11, 2004
India 2004
Rot never needs an excuse to spread. It is the nature of decay to corrupt, to infect and to destroy. Rot from the core spreads outward and onward (Frank Herbert, 'corrupted' a little). Purity and virtue is what takes work. While putrescence will circulate unchecked, righteousness and justice only prevail with blood, sweat and the tears of alienation from the mainstream. To paraphrase a saying, only effort will bring change - decay requires inaction to survive.
In that sense, this land of mine needs work. A family led by thieves will always see it's children struggle to feel pride, to stand tall.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
Of Sweaty Cycle Rickshaw Drivers
Some things in life just bring out the emotion in you - hard as you may think you are. This was my experience these past few days.
We "westernised" souls are much drawn to the romance of exotic experiences. Eating ducks feet in interior china or bungee jumping in New Zealand - whatever. These things make for exciting coffee-table conversations and impress one and all. The ability to say "I did that" - that I am one of the few in this entire world that has had a certain experience. Boast on. But in the romance and thrill and cuteness of a life that one would normally only find in the movies, sometimes reality's harsh truth is far, far... well... harsher.
We've seen them once or another, these Indiana Jones-like characters having a thrill of a chase through some exotic street in China or Calcutta or wherever in Bicycle rickshaw, pedal bikes attached to a little cart that take you around town for a nominal fee. Colorfully decked up, umbrellas adorning a sparkling canopy of eastern excess. Among that a skinny but strong lad or maybe even an older man takes you for the ride of your life. Cute. Cultural. Fun. Exotic, of course it is, it's different from anything we've seen.
I thought so. In Guwahati, Assam where I am at the moment, these are one of the more common means of cheap transport. Me being the lover of most things new and exciting, I decided to have a go. I don't think I will be rid of the memory for a long time. Why such a big deal? Read on. (random note - ha ha - two elephants just passed by on the main highway out my window - end of random note)
This is the picture I have in my mind: Looking ahead into the streets of Guwahati while sitting in the back of a Rickshaw. Looking at the quite sweaty back of a man dressed in an...oily? vest and wraparound called a lungi, no slippers and who toils struggling to push his way to my desired location half an hour away. Sweaty for a reason - he is pedalling his heart out and this is no easy task - some times he just has to stop, get down and manually pull the vehicle along; this is his life. Refuse this, and he does not eat. Of all the transportation options available, this is the cheapest. Naturally, I paid him more than his asking rate.
Interestingly I have found a subculture - almost a sub species if I may say so: The Assam Rickshaw Driver. Quiet, docile, obedient (except when money is concerned, obviously), meek. A good word, meek. Everyone from police (one female cop hit my driver with a stick for wanting to drive down a busy street) down to cyclists (one made it a point to stop my driver to curse his brains out just for getting a little in his way, and my driver just sat there, silent, waiting till it was over so he could leave - reminded me of a dog) consider it their right to mistreat this subspecies. Another observation I made was that most rickshaw men automatically consider themselves your servant. I have no memory in my short life of such a thing. Just for me using his rickshaw, a driver has carried my boxes (two heavy ones), stopped and asked for directions and made sure I arrived where I would be able to make my way sufficiently - without me asking a word or him me for an extra rupee. I cannot understand how anyone can get used to this - no human being owes me that much to be my pet. I have seen servants who do such things but because it is their job, but not this, never before. We criticize the colonialists for their lack of basic humaneness, and then live the very legacy they left behind - without the clutter of needing to explain our actions: after all these people are "us" - no stark melanin distinctions here.
In these past few days I have ridden in many rickshaws and paid many more-than-asked-for rupees since my first ride - I think they make me feel alive. I feel a tug at my heart for this sweaty man in front of me, Lord knows his life story (I have thought up stories while at the back of a rickshaw, but that road is not very cheering). Years will pass, such things will become obsolete - but maybe there is both a lesson to learn even if there is at the surface mostly grief to be borne.
I grieve that the sin and pain and suffering of man can lead to such extremes of need that a man must become an animal in order to survive. I grieve that man can become used to such a sight - that it becomes normal (See previous post). I grieve that there is nothing I can do except give a few extra rupees - pointless in the long run. But through all of it one lesson I learn from a sentence that echoes in my mind - which when juxtaposed against these ruminations, is a hard thought: The Meek shall inherit the Earth.
Christian, find yourself.
We "westernised" souls are much drawn to the romance of exotic experiences. Eating ducks feet in interior china or bungee jumping in New Zealand - whatever. These things make for exciting coffee-table conversations and impress one and all. The ability to say "I did that" - that I am one of the few in this entire world that has had a certain experience. Boast on. But in the romance and thrill and cuteness of a life that one would normally only find in the movies, sometimes reality's harsh truth is far, far... well... harsher.
We've seen them once or another, these Indiana Jones-like characters having a thrill of a chase through some exotic street in China or Calcutta or wherever in Bicycle rickshaw, pedal bikes attached to a little cart that take you around town for a nominal fee. Colorfully decked up, umbrellas adorning a sparkling canopy of eastern excess. Among that a skinny but strong lad or maybe even an older man takes you for the ride of your life. Cute. Cultural. Fun. Exotic, of course it is, it's different from anything we've seen.
I thought so. In Guwahati, Assam where I am at the moment, these are one of the more common means of cheap transport. Me being the lover of most things new and exciting, I decided to have a go. I don't think I will be rid of the memory for a long time. Why such a big deal? Read on. (random note - ha ha - two elephants just passed by on the main highway out my window - end of random note)
This is the picture I have in my mind: Looking ahead into the streets of Guwahati while sitting in the back of a Rickshaw. Looking at the quite sweaty back of a man dressed in an...oily? vest and wraparound called a lungi, no slippers and who toils struggling to push his way to my desired location half an hour away. Sweaty for a reason - he is pedalling his heart out and this is no easy task - some times he just has to stop, get down and manually pull the vehicle along; this is his life. Refuse this, and he does not eat. Of all the transportation options available, this is the cheapest. Naturally, I paid him more than his asking rate.
Interestingly I have found a subculture - almost a sub species if I may say so: The Assam Rickshaw Driver. Quiet, docile, obedient (except when money is concerned, obviously), meek. A good word, meek. Everyone from police (one female cop hit my driver with a stick for wanting to drive down a busy street) down to cyclists (one made it a point to stop my driver to curse his brains out just for getting a little in his way, and my driver just sat there, silent, waiting till it was over so he could leave - reminded me of a dog) consider it their right to mistreat this subspecies. Another observation I made was that most rickshaw men automatically consider themselves your servant. I have no memory in my short life of such a thing. Just for me using his rickshaw, a driver has carried my boxes (two heavy ones), stopped and asked for directions and made sure I arrived where I would be able to make my way sufficiently - without me asking a word or him me for an extra rupee. I cannot understand how anyone can get used to this - no human being owes me that much to be my pet. I have seen servants who do such things but because it is their job, but not this, never before. We criticize the colonialists for their lack of basic humaneness, and then live the very legacy they left behind - without the clutter of needing to explain our actions: after all these people are "us" - no stark melanin distinctions here.
In these past few days I have ridden in many rickshaws and paid many more-than-asked-for rupees since my first ride - I think they make me feel alive. I feel a tug at my heart for this sweaty man in front of me, Lord knows his life story (I have thought up stories while at the back of a rickshaw, but that road is not very cheering). Years will pass, such things will become obsolete - but maybe there is both a lesson to learn even if there is at the surface mostly grief to be borne.
I grieve that the sin and pain and suffering of man can lead to such extremes of need that a man must become an animal in order to survive. I grieve that man can become used to such a sight - that it becomes normal (See previous post). I grieve that there is nothing I can do except give a few extra rupees - pointless in the long run. But through all of it one lesson I learn from a sentence that echoes in my mind - which when juxtaposed against these ruminations, is a hard thought: The Meek shall inherit the Earth.
Christian, find yourself.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Common Relativity
What is normal? It's funny how travelling brings out the ponderer in you, I guess it's all that time in-between places that gets the brain churning - end of needless intro. But just to think as I travel, that the definition of normal - of status quo - is so different when you move away from your own little group. Customs, humor (or lack thereof), ways of passing the time, threshold for considering yourself bored ("ok - this is a drag"), it's amazing. Just step out and move a little, and however flexible you think yourself to be or think you had learned to be - life experience takes you by surprise. Flexibility of course, helps overcome some of these relativities; it's not easy to admit that your way of life only means something to you. You're abnormal when you are away from your state of normalcy (what a pleasant thought).
But on another less analytical note, here's me and my experience in this regard, specifically today:
It's been three days since I've been travelling in Guwahati, Assam in North East India and to say the least it's different from what I'm used to in my comfort zone. Not that the folks I've been with have been anything less than extraordinary in their hospitality. it's just that well, you miss what you are used to. So after a couple days of roaming around buses and cycle rickshaws and humidity and meeting every Tom Dick and Harry who's involved with some sort of Christian work (I don't mean to disrespect them I'm just trying to put in words the business of a trip like this), it was time to step back and step out. I allowed myself a meal in an air conditioned restaurant - away from the world, away from stinky alleyways, away from the bustle, from squat down toilets - back almost in my own little life zone (maybe a tad bit of overcompensation, AC and all) and had a mini pig-out. These little joys cannot be explained sufficiently. One has to live it to truly experience the deep-seated satisfaction that an oasis like this brings.
But sorry, it's me here - back to analysis, less description. A thought came to me in this cool -aired haven: Even for me personally, what is normal is only defined by what I allow to become normal. Tracing my life back from years ago to present, maybe I have (but maybe it's just life) been actually trying consciously or unconsciously to make my sense of what I consider the basic needs of life a step above what it was yesterday. To restate that horrific run-on sentence, I'm trying to tell myself I'm better than I am. Or worse than I am. Not very clear, huh - These are just thoughts that tend to flutter by that may or may not be of consequence.
At the end I guess one thing is clear. Normalcy being relative, flexibility rules the day. Christian humility requires flexibility - not just mouthing thank-yous and smiles and then badmouthing the whole situation, but being willing to step outside the zone into something vastly different knowng that just that act alone will bring fruit and joy to others. A little vague? Well, this is my Blog, you go get your own. I'm better than having to explain things to you. Hm....
But on another less analytical note, here's me and my experience in this regard, specifically today:
It's been three days since I've been travelling in Guwahati, Assam in North East India and to say the least it's different from what I'm used to in my comfort zone. Not that the folks I've been with have been anything less than extraordinary in their hospitality. it's just that well, you miss what you are used to. So after a couple days of roaming around buses and cycle rickshaws and humidity and meeting every Tom Dick and Harry who's involved with some sort of Christian work (I don't mean to disrespect them I'm just trying to put in words the business of a trip like this), it was time to step back and step out. I allowed myself a meal in an air conditioned restaurant - away from the world, away from stinky alleyways, away from the bustle, from squat down toilets - back almost in my own little life zone (maybe a tad bit of overcompensation, AC and all) and had a mini pig-out. These little joys cannot be explained sufficiently. One has to live it to truly experience the deep-seated satisfaction that an oasis like this brings.
But sorry, it's me here - back to analysis, less description. A thought came to me in this cool -aired haven: Even for me personally, what is normal is only defined by what I allow to become normal. Tracing my life back from years ago to present, maybe I have (but maybe it's just life) been actually trying consciously or unconsciously to make my sense of what I consider the basic needs of life a step above what it was yesterday. To restate that horrific run-on sentence, I'm trying to tell myself I'm better than I am. Or worse than I am. Not very clear, huh - These are just thoughts that tend to flutter by that may or may not be of consequence.
At the end I guess one thing is clear. Normalcy being relative, flexibility rules the day. Christian humility requires flexibility - not just mouthing thank-yous and smiles and then badmouthing the whole situation, but being willing to step outside the zone into something vastly different knowng that just that act alone will bring fruit and joy to others. A little vague? Well, this is my Blog, you go get your own. I'm better than having to explain things to you. Hm....
Monday, September 06, 2004
Gmail
gmail swap
Man What craziness, people are wacky. I thought it was cool, being invited by a friend into the gMail fold (which I am enjoying BTW, it's FAST, except maybe the UI a little basic). And then I found this site. Check out some of the crazier requests, it's quite an entertaining read.
Man What craziness, people are wacky. I thought it was cool, being invited by a friend into the gMail fold (which I am enjoying BTW, it's FAST, except maybe the UI a little basic). And then I found this site. Check out some of the crazier requests, it's quite an entertaining read.
Monday, August 09, 2004
The scorpion and the frog
Okay it's an old story, but I felt like I needed to write, and plus it clarifies the previous blog. It's my corner of the web, you go get your own.
There once was a frog. There also was a river. Frogs, as you may know, do well with water.
There also was a scorpion. Frogs, as you may know, don't do well with scorpions. In fact most things don't do well with scorpions, me included.
So the scorpion came to the river. He realised his dilemma immediately, because he wanted across, and as you may know, rivers don't do well with scorpions. Or vice versa, I forget just now. Well, the scorpion spotted the frog, who was trying to make himself scarce, for reasons we at least now should be aware of. The scorpion called out to the frog and asked him for a ride.
As we expect, the frog was incredulous. "Me, give you a ride? Are you serious? You'd only bite me as soon as you get a chance". The scorpion replied,"That's illogical. I need to cross the river. Me biting you would defeat the purpose, we'd both end up wet. Tell you what. You take me across, I'll owe you one." Not many frogs were owed by scorpions in those times. As I think of it, situation is quite the same today for some reason.
Back to the story - the frog thought about it, and what the scorpion said made sense, you have to agree. Scorpions were quite rational that way. So, he called the scorpion and told him to hop on. All went well, till they were halfway across the river. Right about then, the scorpion aimed a lethal hit right on the frog's rump (not aware of what the technical term is, or if frogs actually have one). The frog cried out, "aaaah", and died.
Wait, I missed a little detail. The frog didn't exactly die after the "aaaah", if I remember the story correctly. I shall call this next section the "Lost Dialogue of the Frog & Scorpion". After being bit, the frog said to the scorpion, "That made no sense. Now you die too - how does that help anyone?" The scorpion replied, "I know that - but it's my character".
There once was a frog. There also was a river. Frogs, as you may know, do well with water.
There also was a scorpion. Frogs, as you may know, don't do well with scorpions. In fact most things don't do well with scorpions, me included.
So the scorpion came to the river. He realised his dilemma immediately, because he wanted across, and as you may know, rivers don't do well with scorpions. Or vice versa, I forget just now. Well, the scorpion spotted the frog, who was trying to make himself scarce, for reasons we at least now should be aware of. The scorpion called out to the frog and asked him for a ride.
As we expect, the frog was incredulous. "Me, give you a ride? Are you serious? You'd only bite me as soon as you get a chance". The scorpion replied,"That's illogical. I need to cross the river. Me biting you would defeat the purpose, we'd both end up wet. Tell you what. You take me across, I'll owe you one." Not many frogs were owed by scorpions in those times. As I think of it, situation is quite the same today for some reason.
Back to the story - the frog thought about it, and what the scorpion said made sense, you have to agree. Scorpions were quite rational that way. So, he called the scorpion and told him to hop on. All went well, till they were halfway across the river. Right about then, the scorpion aimed a lethal hit right on the frog's rump (not aware of what the technical term is, or if frogs actually have one). The frog cried out, "aaaah", and died.
Wait, I missed a little detail. The frog didn't exactly die after the "aaaah", if I remember the story correctly. I shall call this next section the "Lost Dialogue of the Frog & Scorpion". After being bit, the frog said to the scorpion, "That made no sense. Now you die too - how does that help anyone?" The scorpion replied, "I know that - but it's my character".
Sunday, August 08, 2004
First working day of the week.
Okay, okay, so I can't but help be a little philosophical. It's who I am. Like that scorpion sitting on the frog who was carrying it across the river, know that story? So here's me being philosophical:
We're slaves. We're in bonded servitude. And we happily clunk around without so much as a thought about it. Yeah, time, but I think it's a larger issue.
It sometimes reminds me of the hampster wheel. Running on that stupid wheel why? So that the stupid wheel can turn. But then before the hampster knows it, the stupid wheel is turning and making him run whether he likes it or not. Stupid hampster.
Stupid humans. Think of where you fit in the big scheme of things. Your job facilitates someone else's which yada yada yada it's all hamsters on wheels. All because one day these humans decided to go and invent the wheel - something called modern life or industrialisation. And now we need that stupid wheel to keep us running.
I think Monday morning is that one time in the week where all of humanity wakes up for an instant and asks the question, consciously or unconsciously, "What's the point"? Quite right you say "monday morning blues".
If I wasn't compelled by the love of Christ, goodness knows I'd be a wreck. (Jeremiah 29:11)
Monday, July 05, 2004
Troy
CHUD - Cinematic Happenings Under Development
Love without the bonds of morality: Love transcends morality. Love and morality have no link whatever. Is this an accurate representation of the mind of our age? Maybe I'm suffering from a severe case of (false) superiority, I hope not... I'd rather it be a case of severe desire for a higher standard.
So I watch a movie looking to gain insight on the past and in doing so I hope to gain lessons for the future, some that would never really apply to me but in a microcosm of the scale of the tale. Ultimately however, as I sit among a theater-full, I realise that this is not what people come for, at least not the majority. Instead, for the guy, the girls are cute and the fights are fun; for the woman the guys are attractive and adorable and oh! The kissing, how romantic...
And so another briny wave of raw emotionalism and passion erodes the stone of considered morality. Nothing against passion, but even the hippies had the background of a brain...? Where do we stand today? Thinking is for the mind, not the skin.
Love without the bonds of morality: Love transcends morality. Love and morality have no link whatever. Is this an accurate representation of the mind of our age? Maybe I'm suffering from a severe case of (false) superiority, I hope not... I'd rather it be a case of severe desire for a higher standard.
So I watch a movie looking to gain insight on the past and in doing so I hope to gain lessons for the future, some that would never really apply to me but in a microcosm of the scale of the tale. Ultimately however, as I sit among a theater-full, I realise that this is not what people come for, at least not the majority. Instead, for the guy, the girls are cute and the fights are fun; for the woman the guys are attractive and adorable and oh! The kissing, how romantic...
And so another briny wave of raw emotionalism and passion erodes the stone of considered morality. Nothing against passion, but even the hippies had the background of a brain...? Where do we stand today? Thinking is for the mind, not the skin.
Can I say it?
They say love is an action
well maybe I agree
But how do I deal with
the way that I feel?
Does it mean that I'm only
lacking self control
or can I be excused
for having a soul?
I want you forever
but you're not mine to get
I don't even know
if you have the same regret
They say holding on
to dreams is insane
but I'd rather be crazy
than empty and plain
so humor the dreamer
allow me my folly
what else do I have
I don't care what you call me
My one true request
that my heart is screaming
is to turn your eyes to me
and end this my dreaming
well maybe I agree
But how do I deal with
the way that I feel?
Does it mean that I'm only
lacking self control
or can I be excused
for having a soul?
I want you forever
but you're not mine to get
I don't even know
if you have the same regret
They say holding on
to dreams is insane
but I'd rather be crazy
than empty and plain
so humor the dreamer
allow me my folly
what else do I have
I don't care what you call me
My one true request
that my heart is screaming
is to turn your eyes to me
and end this my dreaming
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Firefox - The Browser, Reloaded
Firefox - The Browser, Reloaded
OK, took the plunge, made the change - IE to FireFox. Am I a pawn in the hands of the masses? A pathetic compromiser? Who knows. Maybe my life in the complex world of XHTML and CSS and Standards has changed forever. Maybe it's not that and I've just switched to a faster browser. Who knows, time will tell. I hope I don't have to switch back for some stupid reason.
OK, took the plunge, made the change - IE to FireFox. Am I a pawn in the hands of the masses? A pathetic compromiser? Who knows. Maybe my life in the complex world of XHTML and CSS and Standards has changed forever. Maybe it's not that and I've just switched to a faster browser. Who knows, time will tell. I hope I don't have to switch back for some stupid reason.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Relational Dynamics
The beauty and the dread. Sometimes it's heavenly, having to relate to people, being blessed by the closeness and love that being with human beings brings. It's just that maintenance gets so hard sometimes. Expectation, desire, misunderstanding, pride; such sometimes insidious patterns creep in whether from within or without- and the heavenly bliss of earthly relationship is rudely shattered by words like, "I have a problem, why do you always..." Or the like. Claiming ignorance of the "massive issue" is never quite the right response in these times. Ah, it can get so complicated.
There's health in this confusion, I guess. Rubbing against the rough may not be comfortable but it sure does great things to a piece of iron. Being tired of itchy relationships, I guess I tend to forget that that very situation, though painful to experience, makes me (if suitably self aware) able to learn, to grow, to live more effectively (ironically, the very characteristics that make me human). There you have it, I have one more thing to learn. Or more accurately, I have a thing to learn with every difficult relationsip that comes my way. I guess I could think about it like being shown a mirror once in a while, even if is a cracked up old thing, and instead of complaining about the lacklustre piece(s) of glass, I use the opportunity to comb my hair. Or shave. Or wax my legs, the point has been made.
There you have it - my first official blog. You'd think I should have tried harder. I'd think so too. Yet for what it's worth whoopie, I'mma done blogged my heart out.
There's health in this confusion, I guess. Rubbing against the rough may not be comfortable but it sure does great things to a piece of iron. Being tired of itchy relationships, I guess I tend to forget that that very situation, though painful to experience, makes me (if suitably self aware) able to learn, to grow, to live more effectively (ironically, the very characteristics that make me human). There you have it, I have one more thing to learn. Or more accurately, I have a thing to learn with every difficult relationsip that comes my way. I guess I could think about it like being shown a mirror once in a while, even if is a cracked up old thing, and instead of complaining about the lacklustre piece(s) of glass, I use the opportunity to comb my hair. Or shave. Or wax my legs, the point has been made.
There you have it - my first official blog. You'd think I should have tried harder. I'd think so too. Yet for what it's worth whoopie, I'mma done blogged my heart out.
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