March 21, 2011

Just the kind of familiar faces

Sudden moment of insight: there are two songs whose lyrics I systematically get wrong.

One is "Mad World" by REM:

I always remember it saying "the *games* in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had" instead of "dreams". My best guess is this is due to playing too many FPS in my teenage years (hello Quake III and Half-Life).

The other is "Hollow Years" by Dream Theater:

Here "once the stone you're crawling under is *written* off your shoulders" substitutes "lifted", and I am sure this one is caused by too much work in the financial services.

The funny thing is that I don't particularly like or hate either. Not that this says anything new about me...

February 26, 2011

Break on through to the other shoe

I have a story that's been going round and round my head for 18 hours. I need to get it out there before it drives me mad (or before it puts me into trouble, since I'm currenty unable to focus on anything other than it, I'm supposed to be studying and I have a deadline tonight).

Actually it's two very different stories, depending on how I tell it. The funny thing is, both versions are completely true, and I've tried to add as little dramatisation as possible. See how they work out for you.

Version 1 (let's call it the Hollywood version)

I am studying late on campus; a random woman walks up to me and asks if maybe I can help her format a document she's working on. She's at a loss because it's one of those cases where Word seems to mock you by doing exactly the opposite of what you're trying to accomplish. I find a way to do what she wants, and she thanks me extensively like I'm some kind of hero. A minute later I pack up and leave, and as I walk along the corridor outside the sound system starts blasting "Back in black" in sync with my steps.

Version 2 (let's call it the Michael Moore version)

I am studying late on campus: a random woman, obviously not a fellow student, and obviously not very well off, asks if maybe I can help her format her CV. She wants the document to look nice, but she's at a loss: the social worker who's assisting her didn't know how to do something, and had to leave before the document was finished; and even though she knows how to use computers, she does not own one. She's wearing an old coat with a broken zipper, closed with paperclips, and glasses held together with tape. She's about 60, an immigrant in this country, applying for low-paying jobs and trying to sound happy about it in her CV. While I edit the document she makes small talk calling me "sir", and tells me she's been unemployed for a while: it's making her very worried because she needs to support her old ill mother. I find a way to do what she wants, and she thanks me extensively like I'm some kind of hero. A minute later I pack up and leave, and can do nothing more than just wish her good luck.

In both versions, while I'm walking away, the shoe laces in both my shoes break almost simultaneously.

I wish I could imagine an epilogue like this.

July 16, 2010

Don't be an edict

(Pre-emptive apologies for the terrible joke in the title)

Hi there. If you're reading this, chances are it's not the first post of mine you've seen. Again, chances are you're reading this directly on the blog (I'm autoposting this on facebook's pages, but really, who reads blog posts on facebook?).

Even so, however, I doubt you've ever taken a minute to read the blubber on the right of this the main page. That's right, the deilrious rant about meso-blogging (like I actually had another, more "serious" blog for longer thoughts. Or like I *altogether had* longer thoughts). I myself forgot all about it (not to mention about the blog itself, ahem) until a couple of days ago, when I realised what I'd written there in a rare moment of wishful thinking:

As much as I like pretending to be eclectic, I actually tend to blubber (and often repeat myself) about only a few things: (...) multi-generational strategies and alternative economic models (and) environment and sustainable energies (I hope one day I can make a career out of this passion)

Well, turns out it wasn't just wishful thinking. In all these months of silence I have been keeping myself busy, and in particular with a small endeavour of mine that culminated just this week in the following tweet:

Starting from September, I'm taking a leave of absence and moving to London to attend a master in environment and sustainable development :)

You know what they say: when life gives you a lemon, wing it right back and add some lemons of your own. So, when you're stuck doing management consulting for financial firms in one of the worst recessions in decades, you need to think laterally (and invest a substantial chunk of money when you have barely gotten used to saving a few quid every month, but never mind).

What exactly this little detour of mine entails is both not perfectly clear to me and a little premature to tell, so just consider this a(nother) public announcement :) More importantly, don't get ahead of yourselves like someone did earlier. (Jon, seriously, stop putting good ideas in my head! Especially good ideas that require effort.)

Anyway, thanks for tuning in and keep an eye on this space!

January 7, 2010

I am the law

Today a mate of mine (btw, happy birthday again!) sent me a link via chat that inevitably switched our conversation to internet porn (inevitably given the topic: I mean, not all our conversations end up like that...), at which point I had to educate him on the existence of Rule 34 (no, I'm not proud of myself: I'm the best at what I do, but what I do isn't very nice).

(Word to the naive: google Rule 34 at your REALLY HIGH own risk.)

Anyway, my friend was arguing that regarding a certain site that he'd just linked to me,

just the sheer fact that someone makes such a website, makes me happy and confident about mankind's future.

Apart from agreeing completely, I remembered that one of my favourite webcomics addressed the topic in a very similar fashion:

Now, this shouldn't come new to other friends of mine: given that I am a bit of a webcomic nerd (and that my memory these days only seems to work for remembering useless stuff and not anything of any relevance), basically my every other chat line (in any discussion more complicated than the weather) is a link to some webcomic page. Yeah, I'm weird that way.

It is my contention that, if knowledge and memory aren't limited to my own, this concept can be generalised, much in the same way as Rule 34 itself (there is a fantastic possibility for recursion here with porn webcomics). And given the honestly very limited importance of this subject in the history of humanity, I don't think anyone will be upset if take credit for this "discovery"...

So, since I'm claiming to be the first to officially utter this universal truth, I reserve the right to dedicate it to the best webcomic there is. And, while I'm lost in my grandeur delusions, let me entertain the thought of some day reading about it in the webcomic itself :P

So I give you -- Munroe's law:

For every subject, or every point otherwise being made in a discussion, there exists a webcomic strip that either makes the same point or is completely relevant to the discussion.

(What's that you say? You want the link to that website? No way. This is not the site you're looking for.)

December 15, 2009

Of course Vegemite is a liquid

Last weekend was a total and utter blast :) Three full days in London (Thursday evening to Sunday afternoon) packed chock full of fun and good life! Like I said to most of them already, I forgot how awesome it is when you're with all your friends at the same time...

(To be honest it wasn't all of them, only most; but "most of" my friends can deploy a remarkable firepower!)

I don't think I can do full justice to it, but let me at least try to give a few highlights:

Thursday night saw me in suit, white shirt and tie, hauling around my executive carry-in suitcase, and basically crashing a birthday party; later, walking in circles for half an hour in my uncomfortable business shoes, trying to find my friend's house in apparently the only quarter square mile in London completely devoid of road signs
On Friday, a little morning stroll in East London: the coincidence (?) of being in Whitechapel on a Friday at noon put a little extra smile on my face :) Then lunch in a pub in Covent Garden, and later...
...the Borough Market! I had to be literally dragged away near close time, and in retrospect it's probably a good thing I had no space at all in my bags, because chunks of bloody venison and blocks of smelly (delicious) cheese would have been even less easy to explain at airport search (more on that later)
Dinner was delicious dim sum (the deliciousness meant I actually missed out on a friend's concert: sorry, mate) and later drinks in Soho
Saturday morning... was not technically a morning, since it started at noon, but never mind :P Late start + troubles in meeting with a friend + troubles to find drinkable wine in the vicinity of King's Cross station + nothing compared to how long it took to finally get to Alexandra Palace for lunch (ahem, let me just skip on this one) = lunch started at around 3 PM, I guess :P Despite our lateness the lunch and ensuing afternoon were awesome :)
We barely had time to catch a bus (in the literal sense: we had to chase it down and jump on it) and grab a pint and a bite to eat (mmm, delicious ultimate burger...) before we went to Koko (aw yeah)
Sunday brunch was again turned into a full lunch for lateness reasons, but it meant we got to eat at an award-winning Indian restaurant. No idea whether the award was real or in any way legitimate, but the food (and the company) was delicious...
...so much so, in fact, that I left for the airport with a ridiculously small margin, and despite running like a madman, the first Piccadilly train I managed to get on would only arrive in Heathrow 15 minutes before the departure...
...not really much I could do about it at that point, apart from enjoying the trip (which I did, very much, thanks to unforeseeable unpredictable circumstances :P And no, I'm not talking about the crazy ranting homeless person I was next to) and getting as ready as possible for security; so while I was running through Terminal 4 flailing and hurling my bags at anything and anyone in my way, I undid my shoe laces, took off my belt (that must have been a weird sight), collected wallet and cellphone and other paraphernalia and confidently went through security 10 minutes before take-off
The metal detector liked me, and I was confident-ish I could make it, but then I realised my laptop bag was being held for a full search... I was so desperate I actually *called* the guard and asked if she could do the search quickly because I had to catch a plane in 10 minutes -_-'' I know that such a smart mouth usually warrants you little in the way of kindness, and is only likely to end up with you in a small room getting intimate with a rubber-gloved man: that however must have been my lucky day, because she actually gave me priority, did the search and found that the culprit was a jar of Vegemite, that exceeded the allowed amount for liquids O_o Not even in a hundred years would I have thought that it was possible to classify Vegemite as a liquid (I'm not even sure it's enough to define it a solid): probably my face said it all, because the guard showed what in another line of work might actually pass as understanding (!). Anyway, after the search was completed I was released, with little more than three minutes to spare
When I got to the gate it had already been closed, and the attendants were not really pleased to see me. Again, I would have accepted it if they had just turned me away and sent me with warm wishes to seek better luck in trying to be transferred to the next plane... But to my astonishment they re-opened the gate for me (!!!) and let me on the plane, where my popularity wasn't sky-high (sorry, passengers of flight XM5233 flying to Linate on December 13th...) but in the end I could collapse on my seat and proceed to lose consciousness for the following two hours.

So, just like I said: a blast :)

November 25, 2009

A call to arm(adillo)s

That's it. I've had it. I'm through.

I know it's puerile to get all wound up on a football game, but now I'm done with being reasonable: so please feel free to ignore this post. I'm not looking for understanding or sympathy: I just want to make a public statement.

So here goes.

After more than twenty years of unconditional love I hereby announce that, following last night's horrific game, I shall immediately renounce my Inter FC support and will not resume it till at least next June.

More specifically:

For the whole duration of my strike I will not watch games, follow news, talk about it or otherwise show any support towards my football club;
My strike starts now, will extend to at least the whole season (possibly longer) and is not negotiable;
This means that, no matter how well we might perform in any kind of competition, I will not be supporting my team: not even in the likely event that we win the national championship or we arrive at the Champions League final game;
In the impossible (and ultimately despicable) event we actually win the Champions League (provided we qualify for the final rounds), I will still not celebrate, and will not consider the trophy as rightfully obtained.

Starting next season, however, my support may be resumed. This can be achieved in two ways:

We get rid of José Mourinho. The man is a pitiful excuse for a football coach: I have maintained this for two years, and I was waiting to be proven wrong. So far, it seems I was right on the money. But even if Moratti fires him on the spot, my strikes for the present season stands. My grudges are hard to come, and so hard to go away;
Inter actually manage to win this year's Champions League. This is the only thing that's mattered to me (football-wise) in the past years. In case it's Mourinho that leads us to it, he will have proven himself as a coach, and will therefore deserve my support, but not a moment before then. In case someone else takes his place and proves him as the utter moron I consider him, it's all jolly good, and I'll be happy to support them, but not before next year.
Finally, in case Mourinho is confirmed, notwithstanding his ridiculous track record, I will not resume my support until he wins a Champions League (if he ever does). So if we don't win this year and Mourinho stays for five more years (without winning), I will not be supporting Inter for five more years.

I call you all to be witnesses to this. You know me, and you know I will stand by my promise, as much as it pains me.

November 2, 2009

George Clooney + Coen brothers = Teddy Roosevelt + Kevin Costner

I ask for your forgiveness in advance for this, but in my nigh-feverish state (but obviously at work) I have come up with a stunning revelation, which sprung the equality I express in the title.

Take this quote by Teddy Roosevelt (or, since it is often wrongly attributed to the movie Field of Dreams, take this instead:)

Well, doesn't it bear a strange resemblance to this scene?

(Please don't hit me, I'm not well...)

September 29, 2009

I have a new computer...

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…that boots faster than my monitor turns on.

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'nuff said.

September 15, 2009

Wireless Tofu

After a few (quite entertaining, I must say) attempts, my flatmate finally managed to buy a wireless router for our apartment.

Last night when I went back home I found the package waiting for me: and, despite knowing better, I thought “What the f***, I’ll just turn it on, plug it in and see if it works straight out the box. If it doesn’t, no biggie: I’ll deal with it tomorrow”.

Lo and behold, in less than three minutes I had a wireless internet connection up and trudging along nicely. True, it was still unsecured, with the default admin password, but every computer in the house (plus my flatmate’s iPhone, and even my company E65) was happily hooked.

So, entertaining happy thoughts about the awesomeness of living in the future, I rewarded myself with a nice steak dinner, and lemme tell ya, that was no ordinary entrecote. One kilo of charred deliciousness. But I digress…

Wiping the blood from my lips with the back of my hand, I went back to my room and found that the connection was still up, but internet access was down. Peculiar, since nobody had changed a thing, but never mind.

First thing I did was to connect my home laptop to one of the LAN ports: internet worked. But on my company laptop, connected via wireless? Nope.

Fair enough, I thought, there must be something wrong with the configuration. I opened up the web admin page: it worked beautifully via wireless, which reinforced my idea that somehow the router had managed to f*** itself silly. However, all the settings seemed to be fine (to the best of my knowledge: I’m not exactly a pro). Let the head-scratching begin.

Pull up the ol’ ipconfig: IPs, subnet mask, all seemed ok. Cue cursing addressed to several minor Norse divinities and ranting on how living in the future probably means you’ll just discover new way of getting screwed.

Then my flatmate shouts from the other room “Hey, check out this s*** on youtube”, holding up his iPhone. I walk there and start mumbling “Yeah, I know you’re using your 3G, just give me ten more minutes and I’ll have the connection running again”, but he just gives me a blank stare and goes “Whaddayatalkinabout? I’m still hooked on the new wireless”.

Blink.

Blink. Blink.

What. The. F***.

Indeed he was. And so, incredibly, was my Nokia dumbphone. But laptops? Not a chance. Not my company laptop, not his laptop, not his EEE netbook.

So, either you people can explain me what can make a wireless connection an utter mystery to Windows/Linux machines, but works like a charm on telephones, or we have to conclude there’s just one possible explanation.

My router is vegetarian.

September 7, 2009

Last day of summer, first day of autumn

I like to define the last day of summer as the first day when, getting out of the shower, you put on a t-shirt and think "Aaah, that's better" instead of wishing you could go about your day bare-chested.

Likewise, the first day of autumn is the first day when, getting out of the shower, you think "Brrr, let me grab a towel real quick", instead of "Sigh, I know in ten minutes I'll be hot and sweating again".

(It should be noted that the last day of summer does not imply that the hot days are over: it just means that, even though it may get hot and unpleasant again afterwards, you know it's just the parting gift of summer, and it won't last long or be as terrible.)

All this nonsense is just to say that today to me was both the last summer day and the first autumn day. I expect you all to be grateful for this insight on my private, wet and undressed life.

When the air is crisp and the sky is blue I, like many people, tend to feel more optimistic, but there is something more about the first autumn mornings: the light has a younger quality, as if days started with a promise and were not willing to end without a fight.

I don't get this impression on a spring day, no matter how beautiful, and I know exactly why: because it was on days like these that I was interviewing for my first job, and the whole world was opening up to me and my eagerness to show what I'm made of.

(Let's ignore for a moment that actually, three years ago, I was struggling to finish my master's thesis and I was still in Utrecht with my heart broken: I'm trying to be positive here :P)

I'm going to spare you the description of how I define the first day of winter and why it reminds me of my first work day, all right? :P

Davide Tassinari's posterous

Because tweeting about sandwiches wasn't bad enough