N-N-1 7-16-2017

Classical Gasbag

Once again N-N-1 has brought a variety of pictures and thoughts from different parts of the world. If this is your first view of N-N-1, the first N stands for the number of participants, the second for the number of photos (they should be the same), and the 1 stands for one time. All of the pictures were taken by the participants at 4 p.m. their local time on Sunday, July 16th.

We’ll start with a new voice who has joined our N-N-1 family. Natalie Garvois from https://wildriversrunsouth.wordpress.com sent us the following:

I was walking along the bank of the ‘Little Elbow River’ at 4 p.m on Sunday. I was admiring the trees, and the idea for this poem came into my head.

By the Little Elbow

The trees stand stately

And true by the Little Elbow River

That runs through my town.

They witness the good and the bad,

The…

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Homey

I’ve had my fair share of ‘homie’ directed at me and it makes me feel good to have my ethnicity misunderstood again. I like being of an ambiguous race that makes me a true citizen of the world. However, this homey I’m talking about is a bit different. I’m starting to daydream and long for things I never thought I would – this includes owning, adopting, purchasing, fantasising about things I haven’t thought of as a priority before.

I have changed my geographical locations every two years on average, and have managed to fit in a tonne of travel in between those times. I have also managed to live half off a suitcase, being only half unpacked in the two years I have been in this ‘new’ location. And when things got a bit stressful, I’d lose myself into a deep internet rabbit hole of exotic locations I could make my next home in.

Over the past few months, though, I find myself daydreaming of a proper kitchen where the walls aren’t white and you can indulge in a fancy bread tin without worrying where you’d store it. I find myself wanting a shelf to store all of my negligible personal belongings (most of these belongings are in the form of books, letters and postcards). I long for a nice table where I can assemble wind or solar powered robots or do my 3000 piece puzzle. Mostly, I find myself looking at animal shelter websites and going through their portfolio of pets up for adoption.

Is this what adulthood is supposed to be? Have I finally attained that magical phase in my life?

A Writing Dilemma

I write for a living. I’ve lost count of how many documents I edit, how many copies I churn out, how many marketing materials, product names, taglines, branding projects I’ve produced.

I’ve lost count of how many documents I edit, how many copies I churn out, how many marketing materials, product names, taglines, branding projects I’ve produced. Don’t get me started on the number of blogs and websites I manage.

And yet, when I stare at the backend of this blog, I draw a blank. It’s not that I don’t have stories to tell. I do. But I’m coming up empty. I have browsed writing prompt lists for 40 minutes now, and I find none of that inspiring.

This is the problem with writing for a living – you get institutionalised. Can a writing job knock the creativity out of you? I’m starting to suspect that it can. Don’t get me wrong, I can tell the difference between practice and practise, I know when to use an Oxford comma, and I know when to use a hyphen instead of an em-dash. I have all the technical aspects of writing down to an art, especially British English. My idea of a rebellion, nowadays, is to start a sentence with a preposition or to leave the period out at the end of a sentence.

But the ease with which I could write fiction is gone. I am no longer a story teller. I don’t know if it’s the TL; DR era we’re living in that has led to this or if I’ve just left my think tank to rust. I read at a ridiculous rate, I devour TV shows at world-record levels, and yet I am lacking the spark.

And yet, here I am typing at 300 words about a nothing sort of subject. So the machine works, how do you get an old beast like this up and running? What do you do when you are uninspired and wordless?

HELP!

2-2-1 revisited

A sinister, end of the world sort of 2-2-1 post! Love it!

Classical Gasbag

While patiently waiting for vaayadipennu to finish publishing the most recent N-N-1, Anju and I decided to revisit our original concept, 2-2-1. We went so far as to try to take our pictures at exactly the same moment. Trying to determine the date and time for this momentous project turned into an “After you Alphonse” routine until I remembered that a gentleman should never argue with a woman. So I decided that we would take our pictures on Thursday, May 4th at 7 p.m. in Penang, Malaysia. Let’s start with Anju. I hope that you enjoy the result.

I came face to face with one of my many scary zombie dreams in real life, as part of my job. As someone who has a ‘cliché’ fear of crowds, I’ve never actually had to face this fear head-on. Living in highly populated cities just means you learn to manoeuvre out of…

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Brain Dead?

It’s possible you’ve missed this important piece of news on account of all the chaos Trump’s presidency has caused, and the social media explosion on account of Queen Bey’s twins. Good thing for you, you’ve got me.

Scientists (gosh, don’t you love them?) have discovered that completely locked-in patients, patients that have no control over their body, can now communicate thanks to this brain/computer interface that reads patients minds!

OMG, a mind reading computer. Right now, it can only read answers to yes or no questions, but … can you  imagine the future?

One of the patients who was being tested had his daughter visit him, She asked him if it was okay for her to get married to her boyfriend. The answer came back as a ‘no’ 8 out of 10 times. What blows my mind is not the father’s really strong rejection of her boyfriend, but the fact that she did what all children do – she kept asking the question till he got tired enough to get a yes.

Funny how we can manipulate parents, eh?

2012-10-29-05

Full report here: Completely ‘locked-in’ patients can communicate