Wednesday, April 25, 2007

A Tribute to the Bees

The honey bees are suffering from CCD (not to be confused with OCD or ADD). CCD is Colony Collapse Disorder, and that's exactly what they're doing - abandoning home en masse and leaving behind the dying remnants of an imploded colony which once was.

Sadly, the bees are dying. Their population has been reducing consistently (and dramatically) over the last 25 years. What does this mean to us? The bees perform one of the most fundamental worldly functions that supports life on earth (no, not honey, silly) - pollination. Without them, numerous plant species would not be able to survive.

Einstein once said that if the bees died out, we humans would only have four more years left on Earth.

Scientists have been trying to figure out the reason - with theories ranging from global warming to melting ice caps and changing wind patterns. But the latest research is pointing to a disturbing trend between disappearing bees and cellphone usage.

Bees, like migratory birds, depend for their sense of direction on the magnetic fields. And our cellphones and other wireless equipment are throwing the magnetic fields askew, and creating directional randomentia amongst the bees. Yep. Every minute we yak on our phones, a bee from Central Park finds itself looking for its hive in Yonkers. Each text message we send, a bee turns left instead of right.

Sigh. When are we going to get it right?

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Ficali McFancy

Today, a year since I bought my first clock radio, a year since I found out what a clock radio was, I have replaced that old device with its contemporary cousin, the ipod-sounddock-clock-radio-cd-player-thing. I'm not even entirely sure what this thing is, it has so many buttons. Maybe it can even turn into a C3PO of sorts, I'll have to fiddle around with all the functions to find out.

And believe me, this is just one example of my graduation into the modern world. In the last couple of months, I have:
a) Learnt to use the speed dial on my phone
b) Helped Delta import songs into his iTunes
c) Resurrected my iPod and created playlists
d) Bought an ipod-sounddock-clock-radio-cd-player-thing

Usher in the new age of Ficali McPipe. Welcome to the world of the gadgetly savvy.

At the very least, I'm finally released from the prison of having to wake up each morning to the white noise of a radio which can't quite catch the frequency of any radio station...

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Time's a'passing

Speaking of time running by, this weekend brought the advent of the Vish's bday, and it was back to Samba Le (raving review of this place, by the way!) for the usual crew.


Speaking of which, the one thing I learnt from an evening of salsa dancing was that sitting on that darned ball at work hasn't produced quite the toned abs I'd been expecting. Which is somewhat throwing a spanner in the works, I'd been counting on the ball to make it so I never had to go the gym again. Ever.


Time to spare

The other day, I was sauntering back from work when I noticed a crowd amassing in collective rapture typical of when a celebrity is on scene. Of course, I tried to elbow my way to the front, but to know avail. (This world has little sympathy for the small people, let me tell ya.) Glancing at the faces, I surmised that whoever the celebrity was, they hadn't arrived as yet. Everyone stood rooted to their spots, waiting in patient zombiism for the celebrity arrival.

Not my kind of scene as a norm, but curiosity got the better of me. I tried to crane my neck to find clues of whom the celebrity might be, but nothing of significance that my shrewd sleuthing could discern. So I approached a chap standing patiently at the fringes. "Excuse me, could you tell me who the expected celebrity is please?"
"No idea," he shrugged with an embarrassed smile.
"You don't know?!" I couldn't believe he was still waiting there.
"Nope, but I figured if the crowd's so big it must be someone pretty cool."
Fair enough, I suppose.

So I approached a couple who were staring at the centre-stage with bated breath, and looked like they'd surely know what was going on. "Excuse me, could you tell me who the expected celebrity is please?"
"No idea," they shrugged collectively.

I couldn't believe it. I was about to turn to the girl next to them when she pre-empted my question, "and before you ask me, honey, I have no idea either."

Seriously? Yep. A bunch of time-whiler-awayers.

Speaking of whiling away time aimlessly, I was walking through Union Square park early this morning on my way to work, and I noticed it was full of elderly, retired people, lazing on the benches with their newspapers, sipping their morning coffee and solving their crosswords. I was tempted to whip out a sudoku book and show them how the world had moved on. But mostly, I was just envious of the fact that I still had to go to work, while they could linger in the warmth in the park.

I can't wait till I'm retired and can do crosswords in the park all day!

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Weirdos

Sometimes, people do the freakiest of things.

The other day, I was speaking to Ilajna as she got all dressed up for an ex-boyfriend's birthday party.
"Are you nervous?" I asked.
"No, of course not!"
"Will it be awkward? I mean, he's an ex."
"Nah, I have a bunch of friends who'll be there, so I'll be fine."
"Do you think he's gotten over it all? You know how he can be weird about some things." Break-ups just have an unavoidable twang of awkwardness to them, don't they?
"I hope so." she said uncertainly.
I wasn't convinced. I couldn't remember it as being a particularly smooth parting of ways.

So I quizzed her again when I saw her the day after. "So, how was it?! What was it like to see him again?"
"Weird."
"What do you mean?!"
"He kept spitting on me."
"What?!!!!" I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly.
"Seriously. Every time he took a sip of his drink, I swear he subtlely spat it out on me."
My eyes almost popped out of my head. No one, I mean no one, does that!
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I kept changing position and he'd still do it. Isn't that weird? Finally I just avoided being close to him."
"What a weirdo."
"No kidding."

Monday, April 16, 2007

Notes from New York

I'm not sure who's responsible for signing off on spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on having fresh flowers planted in all the planters across the city. Or who, in the stealth of the night, actually came and planted all those daffodils around Grand Central. But I do want to say, that to the average commuter, sloshing through a Noreaster on one of the wettest and greyest days in the city, it does make a difference. So thank you.

And I'm not sure who's responsible for forgetting to sign off on hundreds of thousands of dollars needed to keep the subway from becoming a garbage dump, but whoever you are, sir, please take a tip from the daffodil guy.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Teenagers are difficult!

I hadn't heard from my mentee in a few weeks, and was starting to worry. We'd been generally good at making time to meet on a weekly basis - and then, suddenly radio silence. I'd left her a few voicemails, I'd dropped her an email, I'd spoken to the staff in her residence so I knew she was well, but hadn't heard a peep in response. Was it just me?

The disconcerting bit was, I'd been fairly sure she liked me and enjoyed the time we spent together, so I simply couldn't reconcile this reticence with my perception of our relationship.

"Don't stress yourself over it," Delta advised me, "she's a teenager. She probably just not in the mood. Give her time, and she'll reach out to you when she's ready."
I knew he was right, that I should just be patient, but damn, I wished she'd just call!
"And besides," he added, "don't forget this is about her, and her needs, not yours. She's entitled to be unpredictable if she wants to, you should just make sure you're there for her when she needs you."
Touche. Sometimes it's remarkably easy to lose oneself in the mental quagmire of personal insecurities, to lose track of the original objective itself. I knew he was right, and I just had to learn to not take this personally.

Then on Friday afternoon, I wandered down to the Farmer's Market at Union Square to buy some homemade banana bread. I was just about to pull up my collar against the wind and head homewards when it occured to me that my mentee worked just around the corner, and would very likely be there right then. Could I go meet her at work? Would that be like stalking her? Would that be overkill?

Oh I should quit double-guessing myself and just go, I thought, so I wandered towards the store where she worked, and had barely just entered when I bumped flat into her.
"Oh, hello!!!" She was understandably surprised.
"Hello." I was just unprepared. I was about to launch into a lengthy and ineloquent explanation of what I was doing there, when she suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm.
"I'm so glad you came by, I've been meaning to call you!"
"You've been well?" I was having a hard time reconciling her warmth and earnestness with the fact that she hadn't returned my voicemails for two weeks.
"I've had a rotten two weeks from hell, but I'm much better now. I want to tell you all about it, when are you free to meet?!"
So we set up to meet later in the week. I was about to leave, when she grabbed my arm again. "Ficali?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad you came over. Thanks."
"Sure thing." I gave her a hug and told her I'd call her later in the week.

Well I'm glad that's back on track again. I guess Delta's right, as a teenager it's her prerogative to be unpredictable :)

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Non-Donation etiquette

I have got to learn to say 'no'.

Mostly, as friends and family would vouch, I'm a tough cookie. But then why, why, can't I just rebut the frequent advances of charity fundraisers?

They always seem to catch me off guard on the street, and I know how difficult it it is for me to say 'no' to them, so I keep my head low and try to avoid making eye contact as I shuffle past with a nervous cough. And hope they'll pick on someone else. But I must somehow fall right in the centre of their target profile range. Feels like I'm Charity Fundraiser Magnet.

MetroHom and I were just heading back from lunch the other day, when we were approached by a volunteer fundraiser. MetroHom was the first to notice him. "Whatever you do, don't stop," he told me, "I don't want to sign up for any more charities."
But just as I tried to figure out a way to veer us in another direction, the volunteer was upon us. "Do you support gay rights?" He asked.
"We're late to get back to work," MetroHom told him apologetically.

I was mortified. It felt as though we'd just told him we didn't believe in gay rights. I mean, didn't we at least need to listen to what he had to say? "Of course we support gay rights," I came to a stop, "what's this about?"
So we listened for ten minutes, to everything he had to say, and then, at the end, when he predictably asked us for our monetary support, I summed up lamely, "Well, that's great, I totally believe in it. I, ahem, don't have time to sign up right now, but will definitely research more into this later."

We could both see through our little charade. He knew I'd never sign up. But at least I'd listened to what he had to say. My guilt felt slightly assuaged. "I can't believe you weren't even going to stop and listen," I told MetroHom.
"I can't believe you made him go through his entire spiel when you knew you weren't going to donate any money," he countered.
And suddenly, my moral high horse didn't seem that superior anymore.

"We couldn't just walk by without saying anything, it would seem like we didn't care."
"It would have just been practical."
"But don't you feel guilty if you don't at least listen to what they have to say?" I asked.
"Of course not, that's ridiculous. I'd feel worse to waste their time and then not even make a donation" he retorted.

I kept quiet. Thought about the times in London when I'd been so bad at laying the hard line, I'd gone so far as to sign up for a direct debit donation with the volunteer, only to run home and call the bank and cancel the donation at the source.

So where does one draw the line? What is the socially acceptable etiquette around saying 'no'?