First: What friends? Just because someone is in a list of contacts, doesn’t make them friends.
Second: Assuming there are any friends out there, here’s what I am doing:
Points two and three are
Over and out.
PS: I dream of fried eggs, with bacon, yoghurt, raw onions and honey. But I am on a diet of apples, chocolate and red wine. So, there, mystery solved. Funny how people can be unhappy with all those goodies. But, then again, see point 1.
NOTE TO SELF:
When reading blogs or checking out people’s profiles, I often stumble over the most puzzling job titles and descriptions. For that matter, some book titles and tutorials also have some of the same strange choices of words.
Let’s take two of the fairly common: NINJA and ROCKSTAR.
The ninja (or shinobi) were covert agents in feudal Japan. Among their skills were espionage, assassination, sabotage, infiltration, and crazy combat skills. They are not to be confused with the samurai, who followed strict codes of honour.
Now, when people call themselves a ninja anything, no matter how you spin it, it kinda makes me think of some sneaky person, who’s trying to infiltrate organisations, spy on them, and assassinate people or products. I am also thinking of mercenaries, bowing to the almighty God of the Quick Buck at whatever risk.
So why anyone would turn this word around into a positive, I have no idea. They are either using words they don’t understand or, worse, they somehow have an upside-down scale of morality and values. An assassin is better than a defender and loyal, honourable fighter? Why not samurai developer? Samurai social media manager?
Looks to me like these people value killers for hire.
If I want to hire a rockstar, it won’t be for writing content for my law firm. “Sex, drugs and rock’n roll” says it all.
I appreciate what rockstars accomplish, I enjoy their music and performance on a stage or in a video. But let’s be honest – some play around with more recreational drugs that they can handle, tend to have unprotected sex with underaged groupies or some such crazy stuff. Hey, it’s their prerogative. After all, riding the wave of success can be a wild trip…
Why not call yourself a brain surgeon, if you produce content of such quality that bends people’s minds to your will? Why not call yourself a magician, if you’re so good at messing with people’s perception? Why not call yourself a builder, if you achieve such greatly visible results? Why not an ultimate problem solver?
Anyway, that’s the rant for this age. I confess, it probably comes from being a weirdo that doesn’t fit in with the times and having no clue about present-day personal branding strategies. I don’t see what’s wrong with keeping things simple and honest. After all, when it comes to someone giving you hard-earned money, the last thing they will care about is what you call yourself, seeing as they’d probably like to see results.
Think about it – “Steve Jobs – ninja CEO of Apple Inc.“, “Albert Einstein – rockstar scientist“…
If you feel like you need to be praised for your wonderful achievements and performance, ask your client for a freaking feedback or testimonial, is what I say!
NOTE TO SELF:
Hit the pillow, ma’am, you need your beauty sleep.
A nation can not survive on political discourse and bad judgement alone. A nation needs brain power to identify the piles of crap behind said political discourse and the traps in each electoral campaign. A nation must, at all cost, avoid the temptation to always choose the lesser of two or countless evils. When faced with obvious treachery, it must react, else death of righteous outrage will mean the death of that nation.
Death of outrage is an indication of many problems, at an individual and societal scale. Progress comes from a fine balance between conflict and cooperation. Today’s Romania has neither of the two in a satisfactory and effective amount. The political body holding the life of a nation in its hands walks a path parallel to that of its people towards mysterious purpose.
While the average Romanian may well feel some degree of outrage towards all the “salvation” and “rejuvenation” policies, he or she definitely lacks the will to turn that seed of outrage into action. Action needs not be violent. We are past bloody, angry mobs, I would hope. But for every action there must be a reaction. Cause and effect, an allegedly immutable law of nature, is proven obsolete in Romanian society.
A healthy system would have functional autophagocytosis, meaning it would devour the obsolete or offending elements to allow growth and regeneration. But this implies having someone who gives a crap, a group of truly smart, honest, untouchable and intelligent people who would isolate and destroy or truly recycle the political body. Is there hope for something like that?
It may sound pessimistic, but the average Romanian is suspended in some part of time, removing willingness of political action. Some are hanging on past, real or imagined, glory. Others are too trapped in present needs, while some others consume themselves over future uncertainty. To what end? How can you stay stuck in the past, when the present suffocates? How can you plan for the future, when your every plan and desire will, inevitably, crumble under lack of means? How can you accept the murderous present without screaming in outrage together with your peers? How can you then not find calm determination to make all this shit stop?
Some people see this nation as a sleeping giant. I see it as comatose. And in its coma, it can go one of two ways – wake up if it can or let go and die. And for every choice there is a ticking clock, whether we know it or not.
The day when someone else will pull the plug approaches with every tick and tack. The comatose patient, who doesn’t wake up or die, is seen as having no chance of recovery and becomes a thorn in the back of the health insurance company and the medical facility. Absent a rich, loving friend or relative to pay the medical bills and private care, the patient will be released. The one pulling the plug could well dwell in the shadows, like the Angels of Death giving mercy where it’s due. But let’s not be deluded. In the game of geopolitics, there is never room for mercy.
A nation rarely has a family to object pulling the plug. It rarely has friends who would go above and beyond. More often than not, it is surrounded by hyenas who will gladly partake in the feast that is the nation’s carcass. And, Lord knows, there are packs of them around Romania.
( Part I of many more to come :/ )
Today, I finally reached the end of patience with the Bluetooth-connected Apple keyboard and the freaking Magic Mouse.
I like wireless stuff as much as the next geek, but when, in the middle of my code, the keyboard decided to die and the mouse starts notifying me that it, too, is almost out of juice, I flipped.
“That’s it, you fuckers, you’re getting replaced!!!”
So I checked my meagre balance, decided I could at least replace the keyboard (I really do need my delete key for when stuff makes me mad – “DELETE!!! DELETE!!!! Begone!”). I went to the nearest somewhat-decent computer shop and got me the wired Apple keyboard.
After grabbing some awesome lunch, I get home, super-excited. I unseal my keyboard, open the box, get the new beauty, plug it in the extension USB cable, and open a document. And I happily type “qweqweeqwq”.
“Uhm, maybe I should check out the manual… There’s a USB slot on the right side of my keyboard. What’s up with that?”
I take the manual. Nothing about the additional USB slot, so that one’s still a mystery.
But, it clears things up about how to install the keyboard. Plug it in, start the Software Update and TAAADAAA!!! You can start using your awesome new keyboard.
“What the hell is going on?!” So I start checking everything: USB to extension – check, power on button – no such thing, USB to iMac…. Whoops!
Note to self: When you get new tech shit, the order of doing things is this:
1. Light up a cigarette and calm the fuck down.
2. If needed, take the manual and make the effort to at least scan the highlights.
3. PLUG IT IN.
4. Test and rejoice.