Thursday, January 31, 2013

Coldsnap, Cold Old Eyes

Wake up, Dad! Outside, outside! Let's go outside!
The stuff that went on throughout this week was almost enough to make me freak out. The exhaustion and insomnia have been also wearing my patience thin. I'd rather not make any bigger drama about it, but most of the problems were a direct result of the arctic air mass that we have been in the grip in for over a week now.


But Ella baby . . .it's -45 out there
with the wind chill.
It's not just cold, it has become psyche-crippling cold. I consider myself to be a reasonably cold-tolerant person, but I I've been feeling like I've been taxed to new limits with it. It's becoming heartbreaking to wake up on each of these mornings to watch my dog's enthusiasm for greeting the day getting instantly crushed once she senses the harsh reality of the weather outside.

I've been getting bored too easily. The measly bit of time off that I've been getting during these bone-chilling days has been squandered on watching some movies, reviewing my paperwork, messing around with new apps on Windows 8, and playing numerous rounds of online backgammon. It's all I'll probably be able to afford to do given that I've had a whack-load of new expenses that appeared at the most inconvenient time, and some more that I may yet be destined for.


Thanks for that lousy news, Dad!
. . . so it's a room full of turds then?


The most daring venture I've done all week was heading downtown for a consultation session about getting LASIK done on my eyes, with the hope of throwing off the fetters of glasses and contact lens for good. The session turned out to be only a disappointing revelation about more complications I'm having with my eye health. It's a dilemma that has been eating at me: whether or not to proceed with it. I'm still eligible for the procedure, but it may be just an exercise of futility given what I could be due for in the long run, which would render a zero sum outcome at such great expense.  I need the final say so from the doctor who will be doing the work, but as it is for now, the risk versus reward balance doesn't work out well enough for me.

I'm glad that I didn't ruin my eyes any worse that day. Dilation drops were given to me for one of the tests, essentially freezing my eyes so that the pupils stayed open. Not only were my eyes unable to react and focus to light, but they had no ability to react and adjust to a sub -40 wind slapping against them when I was coming home. I arrived home, almost blind, feeling like a popsicle was driven into each of my eye sockets.

January has been one long, bitter month. I'm a little more relieved in knowing that this is the last bloody day of it. Only two or so months of winter left to endure.







Tuesday, January 22, 2013

First Night Shift of 2013: Post Game Beer

"A day without sunshine is like. . . well, you know, night." - The words of wisdom found on the underside of a bottle cap from a bottle of Hoptical Illusion Almost Pale Ale*
 
I'm utterly amazed and shocked right now that my brain still has the capacity to string/wire/connect together enough neurons in a series, to allow me to write this entry. I've only had two hours, within a period of thirty-four, of sleep so far. I'm trying to find the right words for all the anger and frustration, but it's hopeless. My effort to make it home in time before sunrise was all in vain. I'll only add that in the future, it would probably be in my best interest use every valid and legal measure available to get out of this bi-fortnightly fiasco. I might even have to go so far as to start watching out for this particular moon phase, or run into some bunker somewhere whenever this kind of Monday night comes along again. The shift itself went reasonably well. What I'm more pissed off about is the wretched chain of events prior and after the shift. I won't go into any great detail; I'll just say that within that time the matters involved: -42 C below wind chill, my car stalling, a sadistic dental hygienist**, 15 extra kilometres worth of walking, an idiotic CAA customer service rep, my neighbour's stupid car alarm, and a subsequent migraine, and the entanglement of all these events that are so bothersome that I'm resorting to something from a source with such a bizarre appellation as "Flying Monkeys" to pacify and sedate myself. I also have this to use (11 Tricks for Perfect Sleep)from my author-buddy, Tim Ferriss, who describes my particular form of insomnia to a tee.

Anyway, this particular beer I'm sampling seems to be extra endowed and bittered with some intense notes of dry finishing hops. Hops have the compound Humulone (alpha-lupunic acid), which has anti-viral properties, serves as a nerve and gastric tonic, and has sedative/hypnotic properties.

"He who drinks beer sleeps well. He who sleeps well cannot sin. He who does not sin goes to heaven. Amen." - Monk, Name unknown 
Ross Murray, writer for the Montreal Gazette once said: "Listening to someone who brews their own beer is like listening to a religious fanatic talk about the day he saw the light." He is, to a degree, quite right; it's only the state of exhaustion I'm in right now that keeps me from expounding more about it, or else I'd be in total beer snob mode right now. I'll simply end off with sharing my favourite beer-related limerick:

On the chest of a barmaid in Sale
Were tattooed the prices of ale,
And on her behind
For the sake of the blind
Was the same information in Braille.
-Anonymous  

* - Enjoy the free advertising plug there Flying Monkeys Craft Brewery (Where Normal is Weird). . . You're welcome!
**- I actually now believe that it's quite possible to get lobotomized through the probing around the nerves of one's molars and gingiva with a pointy sharp metal instrument.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Reformatting, Re-Thinking Singlehood

    The weather continues to be inclement, out of phase with my time off, and less than ideal for doing any skiing. It's been close to -40 outside with the wind chill factor this morning, and it's not going to change into anything much better throughout the day. I do welcome the chance to sit down and relax for a change. I've exhausted myself during my "days off", using all my valuable daylight hours for running around doing shopping for necessities, home upkeep projects, and cleaning. One of the very long tasks between household chores was updating my laptop's operating system. This is the first chance I've had to explore and play around on it.

    
    My office whiteboard. Some days, it's like a big, ugly,
    overbearing, 2-dimensional 'wife': always looming and nagging
     non-stop at me with reminders and "honey do" lists
    This is my first entry made with using Windows 8. So far, I'm both impressed and overwhelmed with the functionality and the new dimensions of accessibility with the apps available. It's somewhat more user friendly for a laptop track pad than Windows 7 was. The only thing that annoys me about it is the slow start up time, and getting the "corner" features to pop up properly. I only installed it on my laptop. I'm doubting if it would be worth the time and effort to stick it on my aging desktop unit: I'll be replacing or eliminating that thing entirely before wasting time doing any more hard/software upgrades on it.
The other leisurely thing I did today was peruse this weekend's edition of the Sunday Phoenix. The article that captured my attention was a cover story about singlehood. I used to be down about being single earlier in my life, but now after some time and seeing a few more of the dynamics of other people, and big mistakes I would have avoided, I'm all the more happier about being so, or at least making a better peace about it. It's now comforting to know that I'm not truly such an oddball after all: preferring not to be burdened with marriage. I'm just one who is hip with the growing trend of the times. I was dumbstruck to read that 40% of the population of Montreal lives as singles, and the city of Stockholm has 60% of its people living alone. The social trend of single living is so common and prevalent there that their government is accommodating for it by building places equipped with single suites with communal kitchens and laundries. It kind of makes me even more curious and wanting to visit Sweden. Maybe I'd feel a little more normal and accepted there. Even though the thought of sharing my kitchen with someone else is irksome to me, depriving me of more of a sense of "home space"; perhaps infringing on my sense of order and privacy*, I'd still like to observe how the model of this type of living situation actually functions. If it indeed works, it would be something that should be opted here for sharing with the workplace as it is now, in terms of something both accessible and practical.

My laptop. The sweet little mistress, who's trying on a sexy
little update, who's tempting me to do all sorts of fun and naughty
things with her. Definitely more fun than the whiteboard.
It's shameful to say that I still find too many stupid people around here who treat me like a friggin' anomaly or outcast, because I'm not, nor have ever been, "fortunate" enough to be permanently partnered with someone. I'll even dare to go so far to say, to some degree, that there is even prejudice and bigotry working against me. The worst judgements, criticisms, and reactions, I find, are made by people who (typically):
  • have been married longer than they have been single
  • who don't know anything else but to be coupled, or a parent of children
  • were too coddled, smothered and spoiled themselves as children, and constantly dependant on a parent or other authority figure
  • don't know how to enjoy their own solitude, and instead have a strong need to wiggle into the lives of other people, and usually/eventually end up being an obnoxious pain in the ass to others around them
  • are too delusional to know when their own marriage/relationship isn't working for them, and still keep whipping that dead horse rather than trying to find a sensible way to settle things with better options of counselling, separation, or divorce
  • are ultra-religious or ethno-centric idiots who think it's some duty and obligation to marry, rather than daring to even think of it as being a choice. The last person who cast such a judgement on me was an immigrant from another culture where arranged marriages** are the rule rather than the exception. Once they learned my status, being at my age, they looked at me aghast, like I was some freak of nature that shouldn't even be alive.
  • are otherwise, I would guess by their attitude and behaviour, just too goddamned stupid to know how to live on their own independently.

    Totally unrelated bit of stuff here. . . It's the Cool Infographic of the Day: Nation Population/Migration Chart. It's only here because I'm a nerd for international demographics. Given what I just mentioned, I might someday be registered as one of those skinny little lines flowing from Canada to Sweden.
    *- To have such insecurity and angst about losing these things has probably been already rendered pointless. Swedish companies, like IKEA, have no doubt foresaw this trend coming already through their research, and probably have been at the forefront of pre-designing everything accordingly for it for the rest of the century in terms of architecture, environment, furnishings, and decorum.
    **-.Domestic violence statistics show cultures with arranged marriages as having some of the highest rates of spousal abuse. There is no arguing with me (one who has worked in a sexual assault and crisis centre) about this.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Getting Media Profiled

I'm somewhat better today. I've halved the cold medication intake, and thus feel rendered a little less dazed and staggering compared to the last couple days.

I caved: in two ways, this weekend. Caved, in the sense that with it being so cold outside; being too bothersome to tour around town, plus being sick, I holed up here at home all weekend.  My vision became too strained and made blurry by cold-medication to track any fine print, plus I lost too much lucidity to allow me to follow and mentally form any literary scenes in my mind from reading, so the other way I caved was re-subscribing to a TV service of sorts. A few days ago, I knocked some dust of my TV screen, and connected to a month long free trial of Netflix®, and I abused this privilege to the max during this weekend.

I had a good long spell of not needing a paid television service to entertain me (ten months), but being under the influence of Neo Citron perhaps weakened my resolve. I could still get some odd bits of programming, news and movies (if I wanted to) on TV through channels via my Sony Blu-Ray player and Wi-Fi network, but nothing was offered that could keep me mindlessly gluing my eyes to a screen for hours during a day (a good thing really). I find that the free movie channels, like Crackle®, have content that's too dated and festering with commercials that can't be skipped through. I just sit down with it to be a tech-geek: to explore and review it intensively around once a month, or so; not to really watch the programming per se, but to study the interactive features and formats of the Sony network system, and to see if there are any useful changes and updates. Through this setup, I get to peer into other foreign news and documentary networks/services, like Deutsche Welle, and some of the Russian programmes through Первый канал (First Channel) out of curiosity to see their perspective of the world, or else I tune into a couple of Latin American channels to see much Spanish I still understand (or be humbled, and see how much I've forgotten). I do also check out snippets from Blinkx, Wired, Epicurious, Livestrong, some video podcasts, and then I'll check and see if the YouTube interface through a TV remote is getting any less user-hostile. That's about as interesting as TV has been for me at home since I discontinued service with my former provider.

So, suffering through my cold trying to rest, I spent an abominable amount of time (for me) with my ass planted on the chesterfield all weekend watching movies and other programs through Netflix. There has been such a huge gap in my media diet with unwatched shows and films, and so with no real mental ability for reckoning of passing time, it was easy to allow myself to get sucked into this black hole. Today, I opted to leave the TV off and use this time to process it all. What is interesting (and kind of creepy) about Netflix, and other similar services, is that I don't even have to actively search that hard for the movies and shows that appeal to me, because from the first few choices that I've opted to watch, the Netflix system starts monitoring my viewing choices through my account, and begins building a profile of my viewing habits, and then narrows down, filters, and limits things to a more concise menu of some suggested shows that it predicts that I'm most likely to watch to some very pinpoint accurate and specific genres. It struck me then that there is something a little insidious about a digital entertainment system that knows what my favoured viewing interests and pleasures are better than I do. I watched the movies Layercake, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest, Centurion, The Gods Must be Crazy II, the documentary Walking With Cavemen, and an episode of Spike TV's Deadliest Warrior, and some other junk. I guess what I discovered I'm into, from watching Netflix, which is watching me watch TV, is what it is recommending to me as future choices. It's automatically narrowing them down and forecasting that I'd be into Guy Ritchie British gangster movies, crime thrillers, historical/nature/science documentaries, science fiction, and action cinema (that's unnervingly accurate). The system has somehow also determined that I have enough of a quirky sense of humour, and a taste for foreign/independent films that the Netflix search engine presumes to recommend to me a set of movies centred around starring my "favourite" actors (I'll leave them a mystery), a Norwegian sex comedy, and other documentaries on rather eccentric subject material. It boggles my mind to think of all the specific variable categories, cross-referencing, and correlation of all this data to get this all so customized for me as a viewer.

Profiling of the media consumer has always been going on since mass media has been invented, and evolving rapidly into ever more intrusive ways for gathering some ever more revealing data about those who are the audience/consumers. It then becomes almost a laughable paradox to see so many, who call themselves "private" people, who are so distrustful and not prone to socializing with others in the 'real world'*, who so often opt to stay home and retreat into watching a lot of TV, or using the Internet** because they can find little else to do by themselves that keeps them engaged mentally. Yet, watching television, or using the web, in this present day, are perhaps the least "private" activities that one can do. Someone, or some organized intelligence gathering entity, is always monitoring your choice of media, inter/activity, and usage.

*- Having a flashback now of the movie The Matrix, when Morpheus asks Neo that very profound question: "What is real?"
**- I always kind of wondered why we (as English speakers/readers) find the word 'Internet' consistently capitalized? Is it because it's regarded as proper noun for a place name or something geographical (which it isn't), or is it because we are regarding it now as a proper name for something that's like a living sentient being, like John, or Mary, or Goober the hamster? The lack of use of the indefinite article is suspicious too: I've yet to see a case of  'an internet' in any formal writing. I'll leave these questions of semantics to open for debate for some other time. I'm also having the horrid realization that this thought resembles one like those circulated around the dining table at work . . . I HAVE TO GET OFF THIS WRETCHED MEDICATION!   

Friday, January 11, 2013

Cooking with a Head Full of Neo-C


Current scenario: beginning of the first stretch of days off since the New Year began.
Conditions: Blizzard warnings for the South, -30 º C wind chill factor outside. I woke up friggin’ sick; the fates, it seems, are conspiring against me again to make any time off I get uncomfortable and miserable. Too damn cold outside to ski; I’m too damn sore and lacking in energy for it even if it wasn’t. There is nowhere else to go because I definitely should not be driving while in the state I'm currently in.

Solutions: Use Neo Citron, and consume easy to digest food with lots of vitamins and aromatics to hammer down this dirty old bastard of a cold.

How I know that the old Neo-C is already screwing with my mind:

·         My autocorrect/spell/grammar checker is working overtime as I write this

·        My memory and perception of time is so warped that I need to use visuals, write lists, and program alarms to guide me from task to task

·         The strange looks I’m getting from the dog as she watches me trying to operate around here

·         Holy crap! I’m actually experimenting with vegetarian* cooking . . . AAARRGH!!!

 
Lemons to Lemonade Event: I figured that I might as well capitalize on these list making/time keeping moments to compile and share an actual recipe I created out of my cold-medication addled head.

Butternut Squash and Carrot Soup

Step 1: Make Stock

This time I use a meaty turkey carcass/bones from Christmas, acquired from my well-wishing mother, that was saved in my freezer. Place in large-ish (6 litre capacity) pot with these other ingredients:

·         2 – peeled, coarsely chopped, large onions

·         2 – peeled, coarsely chopped carrots

·         2 – chopped stalks celery

·         3  cloves - peeled crushed garlic

·         1 cup - chopped fresh parsley

·         1 pinch - each of marjoram, thyme

·         2 teaspoons - peppercorns

·         2 - bay leaves

Fill up the pot with water until it's about a centimeter from the edge. Bring to a boil, and then lower heat to let simmer, and then cover.

Prep time: Used 7 extra minutes to peel and chop vegetables (I did this as I was making breakfast). Three hours of time for simmering the stock. During that time, I cracked open and prepared another cup of Neo Citron, and used the medication high to ponder the various other vicissitudes of life that randomly enter the mind. Add salt to taste. Strain, reserve what is needed, separate the rest of the liquid into smaller containers and freeze it. Or, if time-pressed or lazy, just get a 1 litre carton of inferior quality chicken (or vegetable*) stock from the store. Proceed to step two.

Step 2: Make Soup

Ingredients:

·         ½ - small butternut squash, gutted (seeds removed)

·         2 – medium sized stalks of celery, chopped

·         1 – large carrot, peeled and chopped

·         30 grams – fresh ginger root, peeled, chopped, crushed

·         3 Tbsp – ghee** (or butter)

·         2 cups – prepared stock* (not in picture)

·         Salt and pepper to taste

·         Chopped parsley or green onions for garnish and taste (optional)

Procedure:

Place the butternut squash, cut side up, in a heat-proof baking dish, put two tablespoons of ghee and the crushed ginger in the hollowed cavity. Put the carrots and celery, and remaining tablespoon of ghee in another baking dish. Sprinkle ground black pepper on top of the squash and other veggies.

Preheat oven at 350 ºF (176 ºC), cover baking vessels with aluminum foil. Bake the carrot/celery mixture until soft (about 40 minutes). Bake squash for an extra 25-30 minutes.

Scoop out the ginger and squash flesh away from the rind, and add them, with the baked carrots and celery into a smaller pot. Add the stock in with the vegetables and heat on the range until it begins to boil.

Use an immersion blender to purée the mixture into a smooth and even consistency. Add salt to taste.

Pour in a bowl and serve topped with chopped parsley, or minced green onion (which is used here).

Yield: Two large bowls (500 mL, each)
Nutrition/Calories: I really just don’t give a shit today.
Verdict: It’s OK. I'm saving other bowl for when my tongue isn’t coated with whatever crud that seems to be a side-effect of this medication. Also considering using grated frozen lemon to top the soup to experiment with flavour (thanks for the turkey bits and the tip Mom).

*- I know a stock made with turkey bones isn't technically vegetarian, but in my little world, if I see no actual bits of meat in the final outcome of preparation, it qualifies as vegetarian to me. The sanctimonious fools who call themselves true vegetarians, or who wish to affiliate themselves with, as Anthony Bourdain calls them, the Hez b’ullah splinter group known as the vegans, could probably use vegetable stock instead, but I’d doubt if it would taste as good. If we weren’t supposed to eat animals, then the Lord Almighty shouldn’t have made them taste so much like meat.
**- What the <bleep> is ghee? Ghee is a type of clarified butter, used chiefly in Indian cuisine. Unlike regular butter, it can be used to cook stuff at higher temperatures because it doesn’t burn as easily. You can find it in an East Indian specialty grocery shop, but it’s also easy to make it home. Put a couple of pounds (1 kg) of butter (salted or unsalted, it’s up to you) in a slow-cooker set on high for about two hours. Skim off the floating solids with a paper towel, and then slowly and carefully pour off the clear liquified butter into a heat-proof storage container, off of the remaining heavier dairy solids/residues sticking to the bottom of the crock pot. This stuff will last a long time in the fridge, whereas aging regular butter will eventually turn rancid because of the extra dairy solids.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Insight from a Submarine Sandwich

For those who don't really know me yet, I have a seemingly weird aspect, in this day in age, to share about my lifestyle. Despite being male, single, and living alone, I have no strong urge or fondness for consuming fast food, take out/delivery, or prepared convenience foods. The last time I ever ate at a McDonald's was thirteen years ago; in Venezuela of all places, on a road trip along the coast. French fries, most of the time, have absolutely no appeal to me at all. Since some form of ground beef is an ever-present feature on the menus at work, it makes me less inclined to prepare it at home, and even more disinterested to eat it as some lukewarm, soggy, paper-wrapped, piece-of-shit patty on a bun from a fast food joint. To get more value for my money and time when I do eat out at a restaurant, I usually make certain to go someplace where I can order something exotic: something that I couldn't normally make for cheaper or better in my own home. As I learn and gain skills in cooking more things, there hence becomes fewer places that I'd bother visiting and dining in anymore, at least around this town, which is kind of a shame in some respects: one consequence being that it keeps me from being more social.

My current mad science project:
23 L of Morgan's Draught Ale
in a closed primary fermentation system.
Original Gravity: 1.045
Brewing temperature: 26 º Celsius
I'm weirdly different as a single guy when it comes to food. I know how to create recipes, and how to cook meals using ingredients from scratch. I'm a guy who knows the science of fermentation, canning, and pickling things. I can make all sorts of hors d'oeuvres, soups, and desserts, even though they aren't my most preferred things. I can cure fish and stuff my own sausages. I've made my own bread and wine; thus I have the means to have 'holy communion' in my own place should it ever become necessary. I wish I knew more guys like me who do this as well, or more women who can appreciate this talent who'd want to keep company with me. But as it is, it's more often the case that I get looked at as some sort of freak of nature. It's like I'm a lone living specimen of this rare and strange sort of sub-species of human being: Bacallario culina*.

I must admit though that it seems like within the past few years I've been neglecting the true spirit of freedom and independence I used to have as a cooking bachelor with my own kitchen to operate/exploit/abuse for myself in anyway, at any time of the day. Those occasions of grilling some pork chops at two o'clock in the morning on a whim, or having a sushi making marathon, or spontaneously dashing out to scrounge up some superb quality European cheese, or fresh live oysters from somewhere, have somehow disappeared. I speculate that it's because over that time it's due to me being more steadfast with keeping a "proper" diet for training purposes; perhaps because I'm reading more and following other intellectual pursuits and using less time cooking, or maybe it's also because condo living now keeps me restrained with mindful consideration in limiting late night kitchen clattering and mischievous experimentation seeing now that I have neighbours closer beside and above me. Since living here, I've been also deprived of the use of a proper barbeque, and my smokehouse for curing meat and fish to my liking. Life, sadly, became more regulated. Perhaps it's time to rebel a bit.

To drive the point home about how I should strive to keep my independence and to renew my zeal and passion for getting freaky in my own kitchen space again, I took a unique route. I thought I should be re-acquainted with my regular fear and loathing for fast food. Last night, I choose the closest place to me: a Subway, which isn't even a full shop, but just a service counter inside the local Petro-Can gas station. I went there around 11:00 PM: just in time to avoid any drunken creeps stumbling out from the sleazy bar across the street from it, and being stuck in a line up populated with such idiots. I realized then just how estranged I've been from buying fast food, and just how contra it is to the very core of my lifestyle. When I approached the counter, to place an order to the sandwich artist** there was then strange feelings of guilt: like one would have if one were a lifelong non-smoker at my age all of a sudden now purchasing tobacco, or (I speculate) if a real prudish person were to try to casually ask a kink shop clerk for the wildest and craziest form of sex toy ever made. Even with Subway actually having lot of healthier choices to put into a sandwich, many of which I opted for, I still felt cheap and dirty inside for being this lazy, and spending that kind of money for something so seemingly mediocre.

However, I'm glad I went through this exercise, at this critical time when I'm building my New Year's resolutions. To get where you want to go, sometimes you have to glimpse at the side of life you really don't want to ever have. I don't want to become so stupid, or let my life to decline so badly, that it comes to a point where food bought in a gas station becomes thought of as a 'special treat', or coming to the point where I'm so exhausted or time-deprived that this becomes a regular recurring option/habit to nourish myself. I deserve better than this given the skills, knowledge, and interests that I have.


*- This is the best proper Latin taxonomic nomenclature I could find that means 'Bachelor of the Kitchen'. If anyone has something better, or more suitable, I welcome you to so inform me.
**- No kidding, this is the actual title I saw in a job posting from Subway for a person who takes your order and prepares your sub, and takes your payment. . . what a goddamned joke! Real artists should rightfully be insulted with this ridiculous term. Trust me, no food that gets served to you wrapped in paper and plastic is a work of art. Aggrandizement with a meaningless titles is just another way of corporate world trying to dazzle you with bullshit. I should have walked out of there on that principle alone. But I digress. . .   

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Starting 2013

I found a very appropriate movie I just watched recently which I'd recommend to everyone during this season, the transitioning of years. It is called In Time, starring Amanda Seyfried and Justin Timberlake. It's a science fiction movie with a unique, yet morbidly fascinating, premise: humans have been genetically altered/evolved to exist in a completely time-based social economy, making the saying "time is money" much less abstract. People in this society stop physiologically aging at the age of twenty-five, however there is a catch. Monetary currency has been entirely eliminated, and people are biochemically programmed with a countdown clock, where the time of their chronological lifespan can be increased or decreased, giving one a variable "expiry date". When the countdown has timed down to all zeros in a person, all of their metabolic functions cease entirely, and they simply die (time out). All transactions for goods, services, and living essentials are then made by directly exchanging units of time on and off one's lifespan. Time zones in this story don't mean global hourly differences, but rather they're gated communities where the elite classes (those who have banked centuries/millennia of longevity) are segregated away from those living in the time impoverished ghettos (those who literally live day to day on borrowed time). It makes one think a little more seriously about how we are exchanging, or wasting, our time in our life, and perhaps it prompted me greatly to give more thought about what I want to see happen for this new year.

What are my resolutions and ambitions? I haven't really thought them through with any great exacting detail, but the starting outline of them is as such:
  • This year's general theme: Skills diversification, and daring to be different.
  • Muses/Hacks/Motivators/Mnemonics/Reminders/Rationales:
    • This is the first time since 1987, that all of the digits in the year number have been all different from each other
    • "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results" - Albert Einstein

  • Method: Do many new and exciting things throughout the year that challenge and build on all my "intelligences"
  • The intelligences are:
    • Linguistic
    • Mathematical
    • Visual
    • Physical
    • Musical
    • Emotional
    • Social
    • Environmental
    • Spiritual
    • Practical
  • Mnemonic Affirmation: (L)et (M)y (V)arious (P)ositive (M)indful (E)ndeavors (S)erve (E)veryone (S)ensibly and (P)ractically
 
  • The 13 books I want to read (re-read*) for 2013
    1. The Four Hour Work Week* - Timothy Ferriss
    2. The $100 Start Up - Chris Guillebeau
    3. What the Dog Saw - Malcolm Gladwell
    4. Guns, Germs, and Steel* - Jared Diamond
    5. Changeology - John C. Norcross
    6. Eat to Live - Joel Fuhrman, M.D.
    7. People Are Idiots, and I Can Prove It* - Larry Winget
    8. The Writer's Idea Book - Jack Heffron
    9. The Art of Nonconformity - Chris Guillebeau
    10. The Manual of the Warrior of Light - Paulo Coelho
    11. The Screwtape Letters - C.S. Lewis
    12. Hyperspace - Michio Kaku
    13. Embracing the Wide Sky - Daniel Tammet

  • Starting Date to Commit to a Plan: January 6th, 2013
  • Rationale/Reminder:
    • Majorly ambitious changes for a whole year can't be organized within a single day, and doing so turns out to be just a rash and empty effort. It's probably why so many people fail at committing to their resolutions in the first place. I've tried planning some within one day before; it just doesn't work. I'll need more than just today for plan and orchestrate things, and to make feasible timelines for the year. Hopefully five planning days will be enough.
    • These first five days should be sufficient to start cleaning and organizing my space, and for ridding some of the impediments out of my place without it turning into a wasteful purge. e.g. enough time to eat the foods out of my fridge that are contra to my diet plan (instead of just throwing them out).
    • I'll have this coming weekend off to do a last proper binge before things get serious
    • January 6th starts on a Sunday, which makes it easier to formulate a week by week training plan
    • On January 6th, there will be 360 days remaining of 2013. A good time to affect things to watch them come full circle.

  • The 13 things I want to do on this first day of 2013:
    • Go skiing with my friend
    • Make a new batch of beer
    • Nap
    • Watch a Blu-Ray (Prometheus)
    • Take Ella to the dog park
    • Try a new recipe
    • Call my family
    • Start a new budget for my projects
    • Clean out and organize office closet (and fitness equipment)
    • Re-tune my guitar, and learn a few new chords
    • Collect some books to sell
    • Purge old files on hard drive
    • Begin brainstorming stuff and collecting ideas for the next four days