Due to my chronic procrastination I have been unable to muster the energy to write full blogs on my very eventful journeys around the Netherlands.
Within the past few weeks I have been to three Dutch cities - one per weekend. Due to the ease of transportation, I just hop on a train with some friends on a Saturday morning, travel to my destination within the hour, and come back at a reasonable time in the evening to Rotterdam. So far I've had the pleasure of visiting Amsterdam, Utrecht, and the Hague.
Of these, my favourite was probably Utrecht - which is the least well-known of the three. Upon my arrival in this historic Dutch city, I felt a very heavy air of culture. The canals in the city centre seemed more aesthetically pleasing than those of Amsterdam, and the streets have a very unique, historical flavour, as if they were stuck in some sort of 16th Century time-warp.
Amsterdam was very eventful. A simple blog entry probably wouldn't do it justice. And I know I will probably be back again sometime soon so I guess I will write about it then...
My next destination is Paris. I will depart from Rotterdam tomorrow morning. I cannot begin to describe in words my excitement for this trip. I will then head to Brussels on Monday, and return to Rotterdam later that night.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Sunday, September 6, 2009
The Netherlands: The First Weekend
There's about a week's worth of lag on the date of these blogs due to my habitual procrastination.
I settled into the hostel on Wednesday evening, having lost track of time.
Thursday morning, I woke up bright and early to participate in Orientation activities with other exchange students here at Rotterdam School of Management. We all met in the "T" building and listened to the regular pep-talk by the exchange coordinator, after which we assembled in the gym for introductory activities. We had two acrobats coming to teach us exercises and we also had a "conflict management" guy trying to make us play games such as "Place yourself on the Map".
Thursday night was spent in Dordrect, at a hostel about half an hour away from Rotterdam by bus. There was an "international cabaret" on that night where representatives from each country put up a show of some sort for entertainment. The Nordic countries gave a pop quiz to start off the night, Germany talked about everything they'd invented, and the United States demonstrated a game of beer pong. As part of the Canadian group we sang O Canada, recited some facts about Canada, and taught people some Quebec French.
Being in a place of relative isolation, we decided to hike on Friday afternoon because we were located in a Dutch national park of some sort. Apparently some beavers inhabited the area and were building dams. How Canadian. It was disappointing that we didn't actually see any beavers. Only wood carvings and museum displays. That night I got the first taste of Dutch nightlife. We went out to a bar after dinner at a Mexican restaurant, drank Tequila shots and copious amounts of beer, and danced the night away.
We went exploring Rotterdam on the weekend. The city has quite its unique charm. Many of its landmark buildings were destroyed during World War II and modern skyscrapers appeared on our path at random intervals. With its criss-crossing trams, bicycles, small European cars, and confusing street layout, navigating the city was not an easy task. We visited such landmarks as the EuroMast tower and went around the Central area for drinks.
I settled into the hostel on Wednesday evening, having lost track of time.
Thursday morning, I woke up bright and early to participate in Orientation activities with other exchange students here at Rotterdam School of Management. We all met in the "T" building and listened to the regular pep-talk by the exchange coordinator, after which we assembled in the gym for introductory activities. We had two acrobats coming to teach us exercises and we also had a "conflict management" guy trying to make us play games such as "Place yourself on the Map".
Thursday night was spent in Dordrect, at a hostel about half an hour away from Rotterdam by bus. There was an "international cabaret" on that night where representatives from each country put up a show of some sort for entertainment. The Nordic countries gave a pop quiz to start off the night, Germany talked about everything they'd invented, and the United States demonstrated a game of beer pong. As part of the Canadian group we sang O Canada, recited some facts about Canada, and taught people some Quebec French.
Being in a place of relative isolation, we decided to hike on Friday afternoon because we were located in a Dutch national park of some sort. Apparently some beavers inhabited the area and were building dams. How Canadian. It was disappointing that we didn't actually see any beavers. Only wood carvings and museum displays. That night I got the first taste of Dutch nightlife. We went out to a bar after dinner at a Mexican restaurant, drank Tequila shots and copious amounts of beer, and danced the night away.
We went exploring Rotterdam on the weekend. The city has quite its unique charm. Many of its landmark buildings were destroyed during World War II and modern skyscrapers appeared on our path at random intervals. With its criss-crossing trams, bicycles, small European cars, and confusing street layout, navigating the city was not an easy task. We visited such landmarks as the EuroMast tower and went around the Central area for drinks.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Netherlands: Arrival
I've neglected to do this for much too long. Holland has consumed me for over a week and only now can I sit down and write a blog.
I departed Saskatoon on August 25. Flying through Toronto and then Reykjavik, Iceland, on Icelandair, I arrived in Amsterdam just past noon on August 26 local time. The entire process took me around 14 hours. Arriving early in the day after having not slept is very detrimental to your biological clock.
Arriving at the airport in Amsterdam, I realized that all the signs were in English. Going through customs with my two extremely large bags, I was asked only a few superficial questions before being allowed to pass through.
My first purchase of goods using Euro was a Burger King meal at the airport. Sleep-deprived and alone, I hauled my luggage to the railway platform for the incoming train to Rotterdam. I was told to not take the luggage carts onto the train platform. Of course, I asked for directions no less than three times just to make sure I was going the right way.
As the train sped off from the underground station at the airport, the scenery on a beautiful afternoon in Holland gradually began enveloping me. This is the part of the trip where your mind is not quite sure where you are. So this is Europe? After all, I had just spent the last four months on the Canadian prairies.
I started to notice all the differences. Some not so obvious, but some jumped out at me. First it was the small vehicles, with their shiny yellow Euro license plates. Here, there are no SUVs, no big trucks. The European brands began screaming at me as the train zoomed past city streets and suburban buildings. And then, once in a while, a windmill would pass right by. My eyes would instinctively follow these medieval-looking structures - seemingly out of place in the modern urban cityscape. Then I realize - this is the Netherlands.
The train ride to Rotterdam, the country's second-largest city, only took about 45 minutes, passing through two other Dutch cities - The Hague and Leiden. It takes longer for a Torontonian to go to work than for me to zoom through four large Dutch cities.
I stepped out of the train station from a underground tunnel into a beehive of activity. Construction on a nearby building was just in the groundbreaking stages. All kinds of people crisscrossed the businesses outside of the station, some headed in a particular direction, some just loitering around. Street graffiti was also visible in random places. Signs were in Dutch. I came out of Central Station in Rotterdam completely blind, looking like a dumb tourist constantly turning my head. With a hostel address I hastily pulled from my laptop and a local information booth nearby, I tried asking people directions so I can plan my path from point A to B. It turns out the hostel had moved locations in the last few months. Looking around, I spotted a booth selling SIM cards for cell phones. The guy tells me that its 2 SIMs for 5 Euro. Deal. Bought it, slid it in my phone, and then called the hostel directly to get directions.
After some more struggling with luggage and arranging for a taxi a few streets over, I show the driver the directions on a ripped piece of paper with the address of the hostel. He didn't speak too much English; he took me in circles on the confusing city streets and then informed me that the address was not accessible by road. We went a total distance of less than 1 kilometer. 8 Euros later it was more luggage pulling and randomly inquiring passersby where the hell I was going, and if they knew of a hostel. I was getting little luck with the directions.
Luckily for me, the hostel was situated right in the Cube Houses of Rotterdam - apparently a tourist attraction. Basically there were these cubes tilted diagonally and somehow standing upright in the midst of a busy city intersection underneath. After about half an hour of dragging around luggage, I duly navigated several sets of stairs to finally discover my hostel - orange in colour and populated by students like myself.
It was time for some rest. Local time: just past 4.30 PM.
I departed Saskatoon on August 25. Flying through Toronto and then Reykjavik, Iceland, on Icelandair, I arrived in Amsterdam just past noon on August 26 local time. The entire process took me around 14 hours. Arriving early in the day after having not slept is very detrimental to your biological clock.
Arriving at the airport in Amsterdam, I realized that all the signs were in English. Going through customs with my two extremely large bags, I was asked only a few superficial questions before being allowed to pass through.
My first purchase of goods using Euro was a Burger King meal at the airport. Sleep-deprived and alone, I hauled my luggage to the railway platform for the incoming train to Rotterdam. I was told to not take the luggage carts onto the train platform. Of course, I asked for directions no less than three times just to make sure I was going the right way.
As the train sped off from the underground station at the airport, the scenery on a beautiful afternoon in Holland gradually began enveloping me. This is the part of the trip where your mind is not quite sure where you are. So this is Europe? After all, I had just spent the last four months on the Canadian prairies.
I started to notice all the differences. Some not so obvious, but some jumped out at me. First it was the small vehicles, with their shiny yellow Euro license plates. Here, there are no SUVs, no big trucks. The European brands began screaming at me as the train zoomed past city streets and suburban buildings. And then, once in a while, a windmill would pass right by. My eyes would instinctively follow these medieval-looking structures - seemingly out of place in the modern urban cityscape. Then I realize - this is the Netherlands.
The train ride to Rotterdam, the country's second-largest city, only took about 45 minutes, passing through two other Dutch cities - The Hague and Leiden. It takes longer for a Torontonian to go to work than for me to zoom through four large Dutch cities.
I stepped out of the train station from a underground tunnel into a beehive of activity. Construction on a nearby building was just in the groundbreaking stages. All kinds of people crisscrossed the businesses outside of the station, some headed in a particular direction, some just loitering around. Street graffiti was also visible in random places. Signs were in Dutch. I came out of Central Station in Rotterdam completely blind, looking like a dumb tourist constantly turning my head. With a hostel address I hastily pulled from my laptop and a local information booth nearby, I tried asking people directions so I can plan my path from point A to B. It turns out the hostel had moved locations in the last few months. Looking around, I spotted a booth selling SIM cards for cell phones. The guy tells me that its 2 SIMs for 5 Euro. Deal. Bought it, slid it in my phone, and then called the hostel directly to get directions.
After some more struggling with luggage and arranging for a taxi a few streets over, I show the driver the directions on a ripped piece of paper with the address of the hostel. He didn't speak too much English; he took me in circles on the confusing city streets and then informed me that the address was not accessible by road. We went a total distance of less than 1 kilometer. 8 Euros later it was more luggage pulling and randomly inquiring passersby where the hell I was going, and if they knew of a hostel. I was getting little luck with the directions.
Luckily for me, the hostel was situated right in the Cube Houses of Rotterdam - apparently a tourist attraction. Basically there were these cubes tilted diagonally and somehow standing upright in the midst of a busy city intersection underneath. After about half an hour of dragging around luggage, I duly navigated several sets of stairs to finally discover my hostel - orange in colour and populated by students like myself.
It was time for some rest. Local time: just past 4.30 PM.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Derren Brown Chess Explained
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evZmpsl3jI0&feature=related
First, watch this video. It is a modern TV illusion by British illusionist Darren Brown where he beats 9 world-class chess players simultaneously.
Magic is usually very disappointing if you find out how it is done. Therefore, if you are a going to a magic show, or watching some magic on TV, the best thing is to never question it and believe that it is simply, well, magic. Same goes for fortune tellers. Just believe what they tell you.
At this point I must give you a spoiler alert when you find that really, there was only one thing behind this trick, and that is, misdirection. Misdirection, amongst all else, is the most basic principle of magic.
What is the most important in understanding Derren Brown's 'feat' here is that there is no feat at all. In fact, what is most amazing about this trick is not the fact that he beat the ninth player, or the fact that he predicted the number of pieces left on the table. The most amazing part of this trick, is that in reality, he misdirected the TV audience, i.e., YOU, not the chess players.
So there are two mysteries by the end of the trick where he leaves the audience wondering.
1. How did he beat Robert Chan?
2. How did he predict the number of pieces left on the table?
It's simple. The trick that he explained at the end of the show, i.e., "mirror chess", is not actually his own doing. In fact, the entire time he spends explaining how he does the trick, he is misleading the audience into thinking that the centrality of his illusion is a memory feat, i.e., a human trait.
The chess mirroring technique is over 25 years old, if not older. There is nothing new here. But because he misleads the audience into thinking that he is doing it by memory, it adds to his charisma and his apparently above-average abilities, in memorization, if not in chess.
Although pairing definitely took place, Brown used no memory work. Each of the moves were being fed to him by a control who is monitoring the game through an earpiece. All he had to do is ensure that he heard the moves correctly and hid the earpiece effectively.
Robert Chan is genuinely the weakest player of the nine. He has a vague title, and definitely looks a little awkward. Immediately you are misled into believing that Brown actually defeated this player. Notice when Chan says "[Derren] has the level of play of a grandmaster". Whoever Robert Chan may have been, Brown defeated him through the same ear feed, except using a computer program, who is paired with Chan in the show's control room.
Finally. The number of pieces? That's simple. He is fed the numbers, again, through the earpiece. Then it's all in the hands. Magicians are good at this. Watch the entire sequence where Graham Lee and Brown open the numbers in the envelope and watch Brown's movements.
So to sum up, where was the REAL trick?
1. The chess players, and in turn, you, are misled into thinking the cameras were used for TV, not for controlling each of the games.
2. The chess players, and in turn, you, are misled into thinking he has superb memory abilities, neglecting the possibility of an earpiece.
3. You are misled into thinking the central aspect of his trick is the mirror chess, when really his 'explanation' at the end is a rather minor aspect of the trick.
4. His 'mistake' in the first number '6' was deliberate. This is to demonstrate that he is 'human' and further mislead you into believing that the entire feat is achieved through memory.
There you have it. Magic explained just isn't worth it.
So please don't believe what I wrote here. And I don't claim credit for coming up with this explanation. The real brilliance lies with Derren himself.
First, watch this video. It is a modern TV illusion by British illusionist Darren Brown where he beats 9 world-class chess players simultaneously.
Magic is usually very disappointing if you find out how it is done. Therefore, if you are a going to a magic show, or watching some magic on TV, the best thing is to never question it and believe that it is simply, well, magic. Same goes for fortune tellers. Just believe what they tell you.
At this point I must give you a spoiler alert when you find that really, there was only one thing behind this trick, and that is, misdirection. Misdirection, amongst all else, is the most basic principle of magic.
What is the most important in understanding Derren Brown's 'feat' here is that there is no feat at all. In fact, what is most amazing about this trick is not the fact that he beat the ninth player, or the fact that he predicted the number of pieces left on the table. The most amazing part of this trick, is that in reality, he misdirected the TV audience, i.e., YOU, not the chess players.
So there are two mysteries by the end of the trick where he leaves the audience wondering.
1. How did he beat Robert Chan?
2. How did he predict the number of pieces left on the table?
It's simple. The trick that he explained at the end of the show, i.e., "mirror chess", is not actually his own doing. In fact, the entire time he spends explaining how he does the trick, he is misleading the audience into thinking that the centrality of his illusion is a memory feat, i.e., a human trait.
The chess mirroring technique is over 25 years old, if not older. There is nothing new here. But because he misleads the audience into thinking that he is doing it by memory, it adds to his charisma and his apparently above-average abilities, in memorization, if not in chess.
Although pairing definitely took place, Brown used no memory work. Each of the moves were being fed to him by a control who is monitoring the game through an earpiece. All he had to do is ensure that he heard the moves correctly and hid the earpiece effectively.
Robert Chan is genuinely the weakest player of the nine. He has a vague title, and definitely looks a little awkward. Immediately you are misled into believing that Brown actually defeated this player. Notice when Chan says "[Derren] has the level of play of a grandmaster". Whoever Robert Chan may have been, Brown defeated him through the same ear feed, except using a computer program, who is paired with Chan in the show's control room.
Finally. The number of pieces? That's simple. He is fed the numbers, again, through the earpiece. Then it's all in the hands. Magicians are good at this. Watch the entire sequence where Graham Lee and Brown open the numbers in the envelope and watch Brown's movements.
So to sum up, where was the REAL trick?
1. The chess players, and in turn, you, are misled into thinking the cameras were used for TV, not for controlling each of the games.
2. The chess players, and in turn, you, are misled into thinking he has superb memory abilities, neglecting the possibility of an earpiece.
3. You are misled into thinking the central aspect of his trick is the mirror chess, when really his 'explanation' at the end is a rather minor aspect of the trick.
4. His 'mistake' in the first number '6' was deliberate. This is to demonstrate that he is 'human' and further mislead you into believing that the entire feat is achieved through memory.
There you have it. Magic explained just isn't worth it.
So please don't believe what I wrote here. And I don't claim credit for coming up with this explanation. The real brilliance lies with Derren himself.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Month of Tragedy
The chain of sudden tragedies seem to be continuing.
It all started with the absolutely shocking death of our classmate Simon on June 2 at age 19, a piece of news we duly received in the e-mail, and the oh-so mysterious Air France crash whose causes still seem indeterminable; and then came Luo Jing, my favourite childhood news anchor and somewhat of a legend, at age 47. Then, unnervingly close to where I work, three teens from the local High School who died in a single-vehicle crash, followed by deaths of international sex icon Farrah Fawcett and pop-king Michael Jackson, both within the past 24 hours. This also occured in combination with the death of Romeo Leblanc, Canada's former governor general, who died yesterday to natural causes. Now, fittingly, most flags across Canada are at half-mast.
Today, while filling up for gas at the SuperStore gas bar, the lady at the counter didn't even greet me. All she mustered was, "So tragic". I didn't reply.
It all started with the absolutely shocking death of our classmate Simon on June 2 at age 19, a piece of news we duly received in the e-mail, and the oh-so mysterious Air France crash whose causes still seem indeterminable; and then came Luo Jing, my favourite childhood news anchor and somewhat of a legend, at age 47. Then, unnervingly close to where I work, three teens from the local High School who died in a single-vehicle crash, followed by deaths of international sex icon Farrah Fawcett and pop-king Michael Jackson, both within the past 24 hours. This also occured in combination with the death of Romeo Leblanc, Canada's former governor general, who died yesterday to natural causes. Now, fittingly, most flags across Canada are at half-mast.
Today, while filling up for gas at the SuperStore gas bar, the lady at the counter didn't even greet me. All she mustered was, "So tragic". I didn't reply.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
A Fragile Thing
Today is like any other ordinary day in Yorkton. It's the middle of the week. As traffic meanders its way through the city's main street, a professionally dressed lady, wearing a black purse, enters the TD bank on the corner; engines of a beat-up Chevy from the 70s roar to life, its driver taking out sunglasses to prepare for the drive; three women from three generations, all blonde, stroll home on the sidewalk - the grandmother giving me a strange glance.
I don't know whether or not I should be thankful that in the last few days it's been hitting 30 degrees - quite the contrast from merely a week ago, when I still walked around town in my heavy leather jacket. Barely off work, in the blazing sun, I walk around four city blocks searching frantically for the used bookstore that I longed for. I walked back and forth, the same route twice, to no avail. I enter a pawn shop, for the first time in recent memory. In the midst of used computer monitors, used DVDs, and stacks of miscellaneous mechanical objects with handwritten tags, I hit the counter, where two ladies are waiting, presumably to claim something they've previously pawned. I tried searching for the owner. Maybe he has an idea of where this used bookstore is.
I came upon two venerable old gentlemen. One was heavily wrinkled and had some difficulty walking, making me question whether or not I should approach him. I did anyway. I tried to be as succinct as possible in my pronunciation, asking for directions to the nearest used bookstore, knowing there was only one of these in town. He replies, "You'd have to go ask Dale" and wandered off.
With the city's demographic profile dominated by Aboriginals and Ukrainians, I still have thoughts once in a while, of whether or not they think it's strange this professionally dressed Chinese boy just approached them without a trace of an accent. Did I look out of place within the crammed towers of pawned goods? Seemed pretty likely.
I then came up to "Dale", who was a lot more helpful in my inquiry. He actually went over to the cashier's desk to find a phone book, and was able to point to me the exact location of this would-be used bookstore. Ah! That's where it is. On 2nd, where I've been looking constantly on the wrong side of the road. Alarmed by my own ineptitude, I trek onto 2nd Avenue to pick up some thrillers from my favourite author.
As I turn the corner I noticed two teenagers in black dress attire coming down the sidewalk. They looked in their mid-teens. I walked past them, only to see a girl in her black dress with her boyfriend, also dressed as if for some occasion, heading towards their vehicle.
Then it hit me. Today was the funeral for three local boys killed in a single-vehicle car crash this past weekend. This theory was confirmed when I saw an old Ford drive by, windows open, with a girl, clad in a black dress, wet with tears from weeping, trying to form a coherent sentence to whoever was in the driver's seat.
Initially, it felt to me that this sunny afternoon in Yorkton has just wrapped itself in a gray haze of mourning. But then I recalled the two boys who I just saw, strutting down 2nd Avenue in the sun, with the accident scene only blocks away, discussing something that made them chuckle.
Apparently, not everyone is so caught up in tears.
This made me wonder about how the accident is being perceived. While no one can doubt that the event - in which three teens drove themselves at a high speed into a tree - was very tragic, I couldn't help but think that this event would be forgotten merely months from now, and we see the same tragedy playing all over again. Anyone with personal connections to the boys, reasonably, has let grief override any rational analysis of how the accident could have been, so easily prevented.
Once the tears are shed, and eulogies delivered, and people slowly walk out of the local church tonight, a community whose heart and soul seemed shattered a mere five days ago will return to the day-in and day-out business of everyday life. Years from now, will people still remember?
I don't know whether or not I should be thankful that in the last few days it's been hitting 30 degrees - quite the contrast from merely a week ago, when I still walked around town in my heavy leather jacket. Barely off work, in the blazing sun, I walk around four city blocks searching frantically for the used bookstore that I longed for. I walked back and forth, the same route twice, to no avail. I enter a pawn shop, for the first time in recent memory. In the midst of used computer monitors, used DVDs, and stacks of miscellaneous mechanical objects with handwritten tags, I hit the counter, where two ladies are waiting, presumably to claim something they've previously pawned. I tried searching for the owner. Maybe he has an idea of where this used bookstore is.
I came upon two venerable old gentlemen. One was heavily wrinkled and had some difficulty walking, making me question whether or not I should approach him. I did anyway. I tried to be as succinct as possible in my pronunciation, asking for directions to the nearest used bookstore, knowing there was only one of these in town. He replies, "You'd have to go ask Dale" and wandered off.
With the city's demographic profile dominated by Aboriginals and Ukrainians, I still have thoughts once in a while, of whether or not they think it's strange this professionally dressed Chinese boy just approached them without a trace of an accent. Did I look out of place within the crammed towers of pawned goods? Seemed pretty likely.
I then came up to "Dale", who was a lot more helpful in my inquiry. He actually went over to the cashier's desk to find a phone book, and was able to point to me the exact location of this would-be used bookstore. Ah! That's where it is. On 2nd, where I've been looking constantly on the wrong side of the road. Alarmed by my own ineptitude, I trek onto 2nd Avenue to pick up some thrillers from my favourite author.
As I turn the corner I noticed two teenagers in black dress attire coming down the sidewalk. They looked in their mid-teens. I walked past them, only to see a girl in her black dress with her boyfriend, also dressed as if for some occasion, heading towards their vehicle.
Then it hit me. Today was the funeral for three local boys killed in a single-vehicle car crash this past weekend. This theory was confirmed when I saw an old Ford drive by, windows open, with a girl, clad in a black dress, wet with tears from weeping, trying to form a coherent sentence to whoever was in the driver's seat.
Initially, it felt to me that this sunny afternoon in Yorkton has just wrapped itself in a gray haze of mourning. But then I recalled the two boys who I just saw, strutting down 2nd Avenue in the sun, with the accident scene only blocks away, discussing something that made them chuckle.
Apparently, not everyone is so caught up in tears.
This made me wonder about how the accident is being perceived. While no one can doubt that the event - in which three teens drove themselves at a high speed into a tree - was very tragic, I couldn't help but think that this event would be forgotten merely months from now, and we see the same tragedy playing all over again. Anyone with personal connections to the boys, reasonably, has let grief override any rational analysis of how the accident could have been, so easily prevented.
Once the tears are shed, and eulogies delivered, and people slowly walk out of the local church tonight, a community whose heart and soul seemed shattered a mere five days ago will return to the day-in and day-out business of everyday life. Years from now, will people still remember?
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Every month?
I've tried to make it a habit to post at least one entry every month. Guess that wasn't as successful. Recently I've been itching to write about a few things, like the 20th Anniversary of the Tiananmen Square Massacre, the fragile state of life (having had a classmate pass away suddenly in early June), and the Air France 447 crash.
But it's getting late and work awaits tomorrow. So sleep is needed.
But it's getting late and work awaits tomorrow. So sleep is needed.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The Susan Boyle Effect
If you haven't seen it yet, you should. As of the afternoon of April 16, the video of Susan Boyle's performance on Britain's Got Talent on YouTube has garnered over 12.3 million views, growing by the second. It's been five days since it happened.
Embedding on this video is disabled. The views just keep climbing. I have seen it now posted over and over again in my Facebook news feed and threads.
But why?
Surely, she is an underdog. Crowds love cheering on the underdog, as a matter of psychology. But what's more, is that everyone doubted her upon seeing her walk onto the stage, and she overcame all expectations. Through listening to her, people overturned their own biases and judgments. People gave themselves a slap on the face.
Her confidence was striking. 47, unemployed, and living with her cat, she did not show a tinge of insecurity when revealing that she's never been married, or kissed. She gladly revealed her age and her aspirations, as if certain of the outcome. Then, after her performance, she was ready to walk off the stage as if unaware of the deliberation process.
I wonder if the make-up laden girl who so prominently sneered at her can exuberate the same type of confidence when she returns to her clique of peers in Junior High.
But this entire phenomenon now begs a very important question.
Susan Boyle won the heart of the world because she was allowed to sing. She was allowed the opportunity to perform and show her talent.
In the real world, how many times is this opportunity denied to people? How many similar underdogs in society get denied a spot on the football team, misses out on a job offer, can't get into medical school, or get refused service, purely because of superficial judgments, and are never given the opportunity to try and prove themselves?
There are millions more of Susan Boyle's out there, waiting to be discovered. The question is, will society let them be discovered, or will they continue to succumb under the veneer of superficiality that has always guided human judgment?
Now that you've seen the video, your guess is as good as mine.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
March Madness
March is a terrible time of the year.
In the Commerce Program here at Queen's, this is when all the professors pile up a bunch of assignments, quizzes, and presentations.
This is also when March Hiring for COMSOC positions occur.
I've been caught up in the middle of it all.
Last night I conducted interviews for SIFE for about eight hours for our executive next year. While the last interview concluded at 12:30, the deliberations easily took us to 3AM.
One of the most valuable parts of being on the other side of the interview process is that you get to really learn what goes on in the mind of the interviewer. What kind of things do you look for in a resume, for example? What stands out about the candidates that succeed, and what prompts failure? What goes on inside the room during deliberations?
Now off to do a history essay. It'll take a large chunk of the next two days.
In the Commerce Program here at Queen's, this is when all the professors pile up a bunch of assignments, quizzes, and presentations.
This is also when March Hiring for COMSOC positions occur.
I've been caught up in the middle of it all.
Last night I conducted interviews for SIFE for about eight hours for our executive next year. While the last interview concluded at 12:30, the deliberations easily took us to 3AM.
One of the most valuable parts of being on the other side of the interview process is that you get to really learn what goes on in the mind of the interviewer. What kind of things do you look for in a resume, for example? What stands out about the candidates that succeed, and what prompts failure? What goes on inside the room during deliberations?
Now off to do a history essay. It'll take a large chunk of the next two days.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Earl Grey Tea
I hereby offer some tips to those who want to find spots in the library during Midterms.
That reminds me, I always double-cup my cups. This is part of a habit I developed working at McDonald's. Because McD's doesn't have these heat pads around the cup, so to avoid burning someone's hand, you always have to double cup hot beverages for customers. For some reason, I now do this for not only hot beverages, but for the cold ones as well. It can be a good habit when you fill half of your cup with ice. It gives the beverage more support.
But that gives me another dilemma. It's awkward chewing ice in the library. You're always wondering if you're annoying the people next to you. But cracking and grinding ice with your teeth can be sufficiently helpful when you're experiencing writer's block.
Happy studying.
P.S. Why can't we learn something useful in HR, like job design? Employee motivation? Managerial strategies?
- Wake up early. Even at 9:30AM, there are still sufficient open spaces.
- There are more places to go than just Stauffer.
- If you see a bunch of people going upstairs, to potentially the same floor you're going to, use the elevator. It gives you an edge in this competitive world where demand for library seats always exceed supply (this is, however, a rather seasonal trend).
- Have an Earl Grey tea by your side at all times.
That reminds me, I always double-cup my cups. This is part of a habit I developed working at McDonald's. Because McD's doesn't have these heat pads around the cup, so to avoid burning someone's hand, you always have to double cup hot beverages for customers. For some reason, I now do this for not only hot beverages, but for the cold ones as well. It can be a good habit when you fill half of your cup with ice. It gives the beverage more support.
But that gives me another dilemma. It's awkward chewing ice in the library. You're always wondering if you're annoying the people next to you. But cracking and grinding ice with your teeth can be sufficiently helpful when you're experiencing writer's block.
Happy studying.
P.S. Why can't we learn something useful in HR, like job design? Employee motivation? Managerial strategies?
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sifting Through a Global Microcosm
Toronto never fails to disappoint.
This bustling Canadian metropolis of over five million people (in the GTA, that is) is apparently home to more cultures than there are countries in the world. There's a vibrant Uruguayan and Ghanaian community here, and you don't even have to look that hard.
This weekend we were here for DECA, a business competition that I have only familiarized myself with very recently. Aside from our fashionably late punctuality, there were a few things that really stood out. For one, the entire conference was pretty much Brown or Asian. A white person is definitely an anomaly here.
In that sense, Toronto was an escape to a global microcosm, a journey that transcends national and cultural barriers, sifting through a demographic mosaic that works wonders if you only looked around.
The weekend was also a chance to go revisit the Korean barbecue restaurant that I visited less than a year ago. Carcinogens aside, it was one of the most fulfilling experiences one could ever desire. Remember to order kim-chi.
And of course, Kareoke. A place in Chinatown that in every way resembles the China that I left only a few months ago. We were in Suite 7. That's lucky only by Western Standards. I sang to such patriotic songs as 走进新时代 (Into a New Era) by Zhang Ye, songs that defined pop culture like 不得不爱 (Have to Love) by Wilber Pan, and classic western hits like "This Love" by Maroon 5. Quite a range.
On the way there I tried to read Malcolm Gladwell's Blink, it was a slightly nauseating experience (even now when I think about it) reading on a bus.
DECA U was held at the Sheraton hotel downtown, where you can get lost in the mismatch of elevators for 20 minutes before you arrive at your destination. Our room had a prominent view of Toronto City Hall as well as the skating rink nearby. Steven says this is a prime location for partying on New Years for Torontonians. I am inclined to make a case for the Travelodge on Circle Drive in Saskatoon. But that is a whole other story.
This bustling Canadian metropolis of over five million people (in the GTA, that is) is apparently home to more cultures than there are countries in the world. There's a vibrant Uruguayan and Ghanaian community here, and you don't even have to look that hard.
This weekend we were here for DECA, a business competition that I have only familiarized myself with very recently. Aside from our fashionably late punctuality, there were a few things that really stood out. For one, the entire conference was pretty much Brown or Asian. A white person is definitely an anomaly here.
In that sense, Toronto was an escape to a global microcosm, a journey that transcends national and cultural barriers, sifting through a demographic mosaic that works wonders if you only looked around.
The weekend was also a chance to go revisit the Korean barbecue restaurant that I visited less than a year ago. Carcinogens aside, it was one of the most fulfilling experiences one could ever desire. Remember to order kim-chi.
And of course, Kareoke. A place in Chinatown that in every way resembles the China that I left only a few months ago. We were in Suite 7. That's lucky only by Western Standards. I sang to such patriotic songs as 走进新时代 (Into a New Era) by Zhang Ye, songs that defined pop culture like 不得不爱 (Have to Love) by Wilber Pan, and classic western hits like "This Love" by Maroon 5. Quite a range.
On the way there I tried to read Malcolm Gladwell's Blink, it was a slightly nauseating experience (even now when I think about it) reading on a bus.
DECA U was held at the Sheraton hotel downtown, where you can get lost in the mismatch of elevators for 20 minutes before you arrive at your destination. Our room had a prominent view of Toronto City Hall as well as the skating rink nearby. Steven says this is a prime location for partying on New Years for Torontonians. I am inclined to make a case for the Travelodge on Circle Drive in Saskatoon. But that is a whole other story.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Obamamania
Often I've tried to make sense out of Obamamania. I have to admit that I was very skeptical from the man from as early as 2007. Early on I predicted that it was impossible for Obama to defeat the campaign machine of Hillary Clinton. But then as the race went on, he became more intriguing. Then over the holiday break, I decided to read his The Audacity of Hope while lounging on the beaches of Barbados. And it was a great read.
When he got elected president in early November, I sat in my bedroom watching CNN.com LIVE on my laptop, and the speech he delivered was enough to send goosebumps crawling on my back. This guy seemed to have everything. The confidence he projected and the method of his delivery was, in the very least, inspirational. As I proceeded to Common Grounds here on campus to watch him deliver a historic inaugural address - the expectations were immense. By the time we got there the entire place was filled with students watching a huge TV screen - so many people were there that Yiran and I had to find a spot on the floor.
The speech itself was good. It tried to cater to almost every party, I felt, and therefore did not feel as forceful as some of his earlier renditions. Perhaps it was just the time of the day, the imagery he left (with this constant mention of words related to ice and winter), and the ongoing recession. I left Common Ground heading towards Goodes, not knowing whether to be disappointed or to get rid of my undying need to be skeptical.
Last night on the VGOC thread I got a link to a site that alledges Obama uses hypnotic techniques to win his voters. Being extremely interested in the power of our subconscious, I tried to skim the hundred-page document, picking up on things that caught my eye. In the document Obama's detractors allege that the way he delivers his speeches and his hand gestures are done in such a way to hypnotise the live audience and the crowd sitting in front of the TV watching him. It makes reference to his forefinger-thumb gesture and alleges that it is an allusion to picking up the pen on voting day. The evidence was shaky and was not entirely convincing (and even if it was, mind you, people are too crazy about Obama to care), but it was noteworthy. There are definitely some things about Obama that subconsciously sets him apart from all other presidents or politicians in living memory - things that we may not even realize. But is he intentionally deceiving voters? Not very likely. But the amount of positive press, the sheer degree of irrational fandom that this man has aroused is not something that runs parallel to his credentials, experience, or intended policies. It is, by and large, the result of his charisma, personality, and intelligent political differentiation.
Conservative editorials attempted, in vain, to criticize Obama's inaugural speech as lacking in content. Perhaps. They allege that he uses broad themes in his speeches so that the listener can gather whatever imagery they choose, which goes on to enhance their perception that Obama is heroic and correct. While there is partial truth to these criticisms, I think these things are fundamental to politics as a practice. Obama is just better at doing it than everyone else.
When he got elected president in early November, I sat in my bedroom watching CNN.com LIVE on my laptop, and the speech he delivered was enough to send goosebumps crawling on my back. This guy seemed to have everything. The confidence he projected and the method of his delivery was, in the very least, inspirational. As I proceeded to Common Grounds here on campus to watch him deliver a historic inaugural address - the expectations were immense. By the time we got there the entire place was filled with students watching a huge TV screen - so many people were there that Yiran and I had to find a spot on the floor.
The speech itself was good. It tried to cater to almost every party, I felt, and therefore did not feel as forceful as some of his earlier renditions. Perhaps it was just the time of the day, the imagery he left (with this constant mention of words related to ice and winter), and the ongoing recession. I left Common Ground heading towards Goodes, not knowing whether to be disappointed or to get rid of my undying need to be skeptical.
Last night on the VGOC thread I got a link to a site that alledges Obama uses hypnotic techniques to win his voters. Being extremely interested in the power of our subconscious, I tried to skim the hundred-page document, picking up on things that caught my eye. In the document Obama's detractors allege that the way he delivers his speeches and his hand gestures are done in such a way to hypnotise the live audience and the crowd sitting in front of the TV watching him. It makes reference to his forefinger-thumb gesture and alleges that it is an allusion to picking up the pen on voting day. The evidence was shaky and was not entirely convincing (and even if it was, mind you, people are too crazy about Obama to care), but it was noteworthy. There are definitely some things about Obama that subconsciously sets him apart from all other presidents or politicians in living memory - things that we may not even realize. But is he intentionally deceiving voters? Not very likely. But the amount of positive press, the sheer degree of irrational fandom that this man has aroused is not something that runs parallel to his credentials, experience, or intended policies. It is, by and large, the result of his charisma, personality, and intelligent political differentiation.
Conservative editorials attempted, in vain, to criticize Obama's inaugural speech as lacking in content. Perhaps. They allege that he uses broad themes in his speeches so that the listener can gather whatever imagery they choose, which goes on to enhance their perception that Obama is heroic and correct. While there is partial truth to these criticisms, I think these things are fundamental to politics as a practice. Obama is just better at doing it than everyone else.
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