Shin Splints, Or When to Buy New Shoes

So there's a kid sitting behind me, bleeding profusely from his hand.  He cut himself while throwing a ball (he caught his hand on a corrugated roof) and promptly headed into the staff room.  Upon entering (blood pouring forth) the teachers blazed into action, strapping him up like the proverbial Egyptian mummy.  The only problem I saw with their method is the strength with which they tied up his hand. Within four seconds his hand was bright purple.  Bright, purple.

I've been cut a fair number of times, and lost a fair amount of blood (in my time) and I know for a fact that purple is an unnatural colour.  I tried to point out that his hand will fall off within the next fifteen minutes if they don't sort it out, but they ignored me and let him off into the rest of the day.

So regarding the title, my trainers are worn out.  Every time I go running my shins ache, then hurt, then burn.  Then my calves follow the same trajectory, and I cry like a baby.

I need to get a new pair to ensure I don't do permanent damage, but that entails heading to Tokyo and praying they have trainers in my size.

In other news, I've started wearing a scarf and gloves.  I know, I'm a girls blouse.  A big girls blouse.  A girls blouse the size of a tent.  When I'm wearing my coat, I look like a snowman.

Rotund would be the word I would use to describe myself.

A bit like this.



At least I'm warm!

Tax, Oh Tax

So I just filled in my tax form.

I'm fairly certain it's all nonsense, but I completed it to the best of my ability.  The form is one page long.  The accompanying booklet is about fifty or so pages.

For every line on the form there's a page in the booklet.  A whole page.  A page per line.  Each line requires inputting around eight characters.  Eight characters require a page.  If ever there's a case for overhauling a system, it's when a line of eight numbers require a page of writing to explain their use.

On the very first page there's this warning: PENALTY FOR UNDERSTATEMENT is, in principle, imposed when an amended return is filed after submission of a return within the due date, or when the District Director of the Tax Office makes a correction because of deficient tax declaration... Provided that the increased tax amount of exceeds either the tax amount filed within the due date or 500,000 (yen), whichever is larger.

So I'm going to be fined 4 grand.

They're very much welcome to try and fine me four thousand pounds, because I don't actually have four grand.  Go for it Japan, try your best.  (Please don't steal from me, Japanese Government.)  That last part was capitalised because the 'District Director of the Tax Office,' felt it necessary to emphasise his own importance.  Fat bastard.

There are millions of exemptions very specific to this region.  One of them is health insurance (not unique, but the percentage of cost covered versus amount paid, will certainly be specific to Japan) along with life insurance (why do you get exemptions for that?) and earthquake insurance.  That last one made me laugh, because everyone would presumably buy into that, and the country would go broke every time there's a quake.  Oh wait, they are broke.  Never mind.

Anyway, everyone in Japan is really old, and everyone is single.  The men are so disgusting as to be repellent for everyone and everything - while the women are insular to the point of demonic vanity.  Don't believe me?  Check out this article from the BBC.

Obviously this is going to mean huge taxes.  There's no way it can end any other way.

The funny thing, when I tell people here that the high earners in England pay 40%, they balk.  Now that I've perused the tax system; their high earners pay 40% too!  Of course VAT here is 5%, not 20%.  Of course, they don't pay taxes on breathing, we do.  Of course ancillary taxes in England are massive, whereas they're moderate here.  I guess no one here earns any money (hence why no one has ever seen the 40% tax, and why the extra taxes are so small (they'll never get any money out of them if no one buys anything!)).

Poor Bastards.

Bacon

So holy moly, I've forgotten what tea tastes like.

Mum sent me some English tea as I requested a filling breakfast one day.  Everyone knows that a filling breakfast requires tea, which you cannot find in Japan.  Of course you can find the green variety, but that simply doesn't cut it with a real breakfast.

The upshot is that I tried some tea for the first time in an age, and didn't like it.  I had to drink five or six cups to get the taste back, which I find peculiar.  You'll be happy to know I did eventually get the taste back, through much grimacing.

In other news, I found a few pictures as an extension to the previous post:

As someone commented, the person who took this photo really didn't like the kid.

On the flip-side however, I assume the commentator expects that child to belong to the photographer.  If I saw a random child doing that, I would probably stick starburst up its nose and take more pictures.  The nose of the pig, not the child.  Although that would probably be funny too.

During the allotted cleaning time I was sweeping the floor, while one of the kids was hoovering.  I asked the kid to hoover the broom (it was covered in crud) by saying 'suck it off,' which I'm glad no one heard, and even if they could, I'm glad they can't understand anything.

I'm Bandwagoning

So there's been a lot of talk about Bill Gates on the BBC website today.  I imagine there's some PR stunt being pulled, maybe the Windows 8 release is imminent?  Anywho, I've always said that people eulogising His Highness Jobs are idiots; whereas those praising High King Gates are somewhat more rational, purely because he has given more away in his life than the whole of England have ever given away for red nose day.


If you think you are relevant, you are wrong.  So wrong.  All the money you, your friends, your company, your family and everyone in your town ever give are insignificant.  It's nothing.

Consider the following:

Or you can think about it the other way round.  Your pittance pays for the staff who work at the charities (shock horror, not all your money goes to the needy, even if they say it does) leaving the many billions Bill donates to pay for the actual treatments and whatnot.

So yes, like everyone else I was setting this trend before it became a trend (the trend of praising his Billness).

Of course this is all very depressing, so here is something to make you forget about all that.

Ow, My Brain

So I took a couple of knocks to the head in the game yesterday.

It was a relatively short-order affair, becoming known to me only days before the actual event.  It was, however, a lot of fun.  That being said, it was somewhat disheartening to see a few of the incidents that transpired on the pitch.

Immediately after the match I couldn't tell you how many I had scored, with that in mind I'll split the difference between the one I am certain of, and the five I could possible have, to give me a figure of four (sic).

Two minutes (quite literally) into the match, after a couple of rucks, I was given a crash ball (or a switch, who knows) with which I made fair yardage and gave a respectable off-load; for a further gain.  As I was on all fours looking towards the play (and getting up) one of the opposition took it upon himself to give me a knee to the back of the head.  We're not talking a tap, we're talking a sprinting knee to the back of the head.  As you may imagine, my brain rattled (it being the size of a pea inside a football sized vessel) and my head ached.  Bizarrely, this wasn't the event that took its toll.  I had a blinding headache thereafter, but I am quite sure I remember most of the events for the next ten minutes.

Our team didn't want to tackle, maybe because of the cold or the opposition being complete dicks.  At some stage (my timeline is mucked up because of their foul play) I had my opposite number (I was playing 12 and 13 for the whole match) in my face (or as I prefer to say: all up in my fizog) for some reason.  I can't remember why he was inches away from getting punched, but he was most certainly all up in the face.

At another point, I had the tackler lying on me, trying to wrench my non ball carrying arm from its socket.

Now, I do things when the referee can't see, but only to those who have done wrong unto me.  You will have to take my word for that.  This team deserved all the punches they got, and fifty more.

So the guy who was trying to maim me got a palm in the face and a small knock to the head as I got up.  This may or may not have been the guy who was 'all up in my face,' before or after this event.  Who knows.

Then, in a separate occurrence, me and a yellow player were chasing a ball, I knocked him out of the way as I dived on it, for a penalty to be awarded against me for getting the ball.  In Japan you're not allowed to compete in any situation.  Not in the defensive tackle situation, nor in the lineout.  They just don't like competition.

And the referee was a blatant racist.  Of the thirty penalties the referee gave away, two were for us.  Maybe three, if I'm generous.

So I ended up giving away dozens of penalties, one of which I will say was a fair cop.  The others were utter garbage.

It was such an untenable situation that our captain (or manager, I'm not sure which one) was yellow carded for a shoulder charge, after a penalty that shouldn't have been awarded.  Frustration was the name of the game.

The referee was awful, the opposition team was foul, the game was rather entertaining.

Unfortunately I can't remember the timeline, but I did score a few tries.  One was a cutout pass where the opposition player shot out of the line, giving me a massive gap to go through, beat a few defenders and scored.  This was from the ten metre line or so.

Another one came from inside our half, I got the ball, ran sideways far too much, broke a few tackles and scored.  As one of the guys said after, 'it would've looked good to take a photo with all the tacklers on the floor.'

The third try of possibly five or possibly one try(ies) had something happen.

I have a headache.

Being my own blog, it's all very egocentric and not a fair reflection on the other players (we did play quite well for small portions of the game) who did extremely well.  The Man of the Match award went to one of the new guys, who absolutely demolished their scrum (in all the scrums they were awarded, they only got clean ball twice, testament to our superiority).

All things considered, it was a fun game, and now a night has passed I can remember a fair amount of what happened (I think); just not the order in which is happened.

If this is your first time reading this blog, please don't take this psychotic rambling as my usual style; take, well all my other posts instead.

I Raise You a Stupidity

So I've come across two forms of stupidity in the news today.

Both have their merits, but I'll leave the politically motivated form for later.  Firstly, let's focus on why the zodiac-challenged among us are superior human beings.

This article from the BBC shows several things.  It shows that chinese people like to be born in the year of the dragon.  It's auspicious.  There are several problems here - not least that their zodiac only contains twelve animals.  This means everyone shares their sign with a few other people, and by a few I mean more than five hundred million others.  Clearly, not everyone can be successful, or angry, not everyone can demonstrate the traits of their animal; thus rendering this entire belief system pointless.  It's almost as pointless as worshiping (worshiping doesn't look right, I think it needs two p's) a deity who rapes a woman every two thousand years in order to create a son who dies and magically comes back to life after a few days, but not quite.

Having derailed my own thoughts with that aside, I feel it important to note that this website debunks the myth that global warming has consensus among all scientists everywhere the world over.  In the states there are thirty odd thousand scientists who aren't employed by Al Gore, so presumably there will be a few more knocking around Europe.  Then again, scientists are people too; I expect all European scientists to have been swept into a carbon frenzy like the lay person (you and I) and be frothing at the mouth at such outrageous suggestions.  Frothing at the mouth, like the whole of humanity will be when we poison ourselves in an endless quest to dig up the planet in search of minerals and resources that we can re-use and recycle.  But of course, combating the natural tendency for this planets climate to change is more important than giving everyone cancer.

Anyway, half a billion people being identical in zodiac terms isn't enough apparently, so mainlanders are trying their best to create even more dragons.  I can't see anyone actually trying for a child at this juncture just to make sure their sign is dragon orientated.  Sure, being Dohvakin might be fun for the first few hours, but all the shouting will ruin your throat pretty quickly, not to mention the blocky faces and ugly textures.

Sorry, I slipped away from reality again there.

The point of all this is simple:  superstition and religion are stupid.

I find the spiel accompanying each animal extremely interesting reading, not for their accuracy, but for their use of description.  They describe people so well (just not the people associated with the signs).  It's obviously an art that bears fruit from watching people (obviously) but I do wonder how they spent aeons looking for characteristics and traits without being sucked into the oblivion that is humanities' stupidity.  Maybe they did, maybe this is the true fruit of their labor.

Anyway, the other stupidity on display today was demonstrated by the americans.  Of course, the two biggest groups of idiots are the two superpowers.  Or the one superpower, and the aging old fart who is in so much debt they have to invent new numbers to describe it, while feeding it fried chicken to keep the obesity from dying down.

This article describes the successful elimination of competition within the boundaries of american internet domains.  Except it's not just within their own boundaries.  I can no longer access the site, and I'm in Japan (I think).  This means a pissed off american billionaire conglomerate permanently shut down a website based in Hong Kong (I think) and had civilians arrested in New Zealand at the same time.  This is one of the myriad reasons why the world hates you america - it's also one of the reasons why the world laughs, because your collective fat rolls seem to cover your eyes and at least partially blind you.  Shutting down one website is like banning, er, well it's like banning something that's easily replicated and spread ad infinitum.  Like a website.  So destroying one website and grievously denying the human rights of several individuals is like shutting down a website, because ten thousand will pop up and take its place.  Those ten thousand will host significantly less information, but as a whole will contain vastly more.  Try shutting ten thousand websites, when it took you five years to wobble your way to a resolution on this single site.  Good luck, fatso.

Why this is particularly important right now, is the ill-timed demise of two bills, SOPA and PIPA.  They essentially grant the power for a website to be blacklisted from within the US, despite it being hosted outside the US.  It also grants a number of exceedingly murky powers enabling the usage of individuals to be monitored.

They're essentially asking for more power, which is ludicrous in light of the latest action.  Non-american individuals have been arrested, in countries that are not the U.S, over crimes committed that are nothing to do with them in the slightest.  They run a website, other people upload the content.  If someone drives my car (without my consent, as they regularly take down copyrighted material, not to mention the myriad warnings on their ex-website) into another person and kills them, I'm culpable?  Makes sense to me!

They need more power than they already have, despite having infinite power to do whatever the hell they want.  Sounds like a legitimate cause for concern on behalf of they.  They being anyone who produces content within america, which essentially boils down to a handful of companies (think Time Warner, Sony et al.)

A lot of people (worldwide) are against these bills.  If you live in america, I can understand your reluctance to sign up for this particular brand of skulduggery, but the rest of the world SHOULD FULLY SUPPORT THESE BILLS.

No really, we should be parading around the streets getting this bill passed.  We should raid forums and boards with Pro-SOPA pro-PIPA messages.

The reason is extremely simple.  SOPA and PIPA are designed to ensure that established mediums, such as TV, film, radio, magazines, newspapers and the like (controlled by aforementioned obese billionaires) maintain a monopoly over internet based innovation.  Startups like google, youtube, facebook and so on, would simply no longer exist on american soil.  All these require user generated content and most users prefer to, inadvertently or otherwise, use other products and ideas within their videos/recordings.

The death of innovation within america would create infinite opportunity abroad, as innovators would turn to Europe in order to house, store and create their billion dollar websites.  Of course they would no longer be billion dollar websites, but billion euro websites.  If trends continue, this would obviously be a trillion euro industry, then a quadrillion euro industry, then a pentillion euro industry in-line with the imminent collapse of the value of a euro.

Imagine if facebook (soon to be floated for a hundred billion dollars) were in England.  60% (the going tax rate for those individuals who earn a decent wage in England (of course businesses pay in the region of 15%, unless they're really big in which case they don't pay any tax, but we can all dream right?)) of 75 billion pounds could pay for some of the MP's sex toys and moats, leaving the actual tax money to be spent on bribing FIFA officials.  Imagine that!  We could be rolling in FIFA officials if facebook were English.

So the reason we should be marching and campaigning for SOPA and PIPA is the same reason the american politicians are shooting it down now.  They want more money, we want more money, everyone wants more money.  FIFA will have to continue as a parasitic entity on the sparse millions it's bribed with at the moment.

Those poor millionaires.

The Funniest Thing That's Not Very Funny But Will Probably Be Funny for You

So I just had a lesson with a teacher with whom I didn't have a previous lesson plan briefing - I relied on the teacher with whom I did converse to relay the pertinent information.  Obviously that didn't occur, because I asked her to write the classes timetable on the board, at which point she sent half the class to get a load of tables.  (This was after me demonstrating writing on the blackboard, no less.)

After I saw the kids coming in with tables, I laughed it off (while crying inside) and asked her to write it again.  The only part of that sentence I don't know in Japanese is timetable, otherwise I would have asked in Japanese and been done with it.  Before you ask; the locals are much like the Germans, one mistake in their native language and often they'll refuse to understand what you're saying.  If they're friends they'll puzzle it out, but in a workplace setting they've got an example to keep (for the children, of course) and won't be seen acknowledging anything other than perfect Japanese, lest the next generation grow tolerant of foreigners.  God forbid.

Anyway, after about five minutes of classroom re-arrangement we were good to go.  At which point I realised that I didn't understand anything she'd written on the blackboard, so had to get her to do most of it anyway (only after me bumbling through about four minutes of attempts myself).

#Edit#  I just found out that Ashton is leaving Saints.  He's leaving with a record of 105 games, 95 tries.  That's an incredible try scoring record, and it near enough a try per game as not to matter.  Amazing.  Unfortunately he's going to South Africa.  Sorry, I mean Saracens.  They're all still SA except for a couple of England players right?

Survived!

I survived the day of bad luck (which officially began and ended yesterday).  It was a harrowing day, full of people trying to kill me with their cars (some stereotypes hold up) and things crumbling to dust in my very hands.

Hocus pocus aside, I visited a magical factory of longevity commonly known as a gym.  Within the boundaries of said room were people old enough to be, and I suspect they are, grandparents.  These people weren't milling around like the elderly folk in English gyms, they were running like possessed daemons.  I don't know if there is a marathon coming up soon, but the teachers at my mountain school are even getting in on the running act and one of them, a woman in her early fifties, (at a guess, which is about as definitive as guessing the age of Earth) runs 10km two or three times a week.  This is after she does an aerobics class that I have witnessed (behind a glass barrier, thankfully) and wouldn't wish upon anyone.  As with all these things, the class is only as challenging as you make it, and while some of the participants choose to peacock their way through - this teacher doesn't.  The short and long of it is simple; insanity.  Unfortunately I fear that finding a co-signatory would be something of a struggle on account of me not knowing Japanese, but she really should dial it back somewhat.

I hope the marathon (if there is one) has a seriously long catchment behind the finishing line, because it will take her some time to wind down once she crosses.  At fifty miles per hour.

I also hope they have a fire engine to ensure excess heat is dissipated as quickly as possible.  She might blow a gasket or something.

Oh Noes

There are a couple of problems with today.  Firstly, one of my alarms was broken.  One said it was seven thirty, the other said eight twenty.  It's obvious which one I wanted, alas it wasn't to be so.  I ended up being a minute or so late, but nothing too problematic.

Then I fell over.

Then I stubbed my toe.

It turned out to be one of those days.  Everything keeps messing up, but then again a day like this will come along every now and again.

The trick to it is simple - keep your head down until bedtime and hope your alarm works the following day.

It's ruddy cold too, so I expect my hot water to crap out today.  Good luck to you, crazy deity who keeps making me bang my head!

Alarms That Blows my Mind

So earthquakes are exceedingly common in Japan.  I don't think people outside this area realise just how common they are.  This isn't stupidity, it's simply that we only ever learn (and subsequently talk about) massive earthquakes that destroy everything.

What they have for their mobile phones here is quite interesting - it's an earthquake early warning system.  When a quake is about to hit, a specialised alarm sounds.  I say specialised, because it appears that the manufacturers have all gone with the same signal (although this could be pure coincidence).  One of the things you learn in geography is that earthquakes can be predicted with the same accuracy as carbon dating, that is to say within a hundred million years.  When there hasn't been an earthquake for a century, the next one will be big.  Their way of predicting is also in-line with the way yellowstone authorities have predicted an eruption; the ground is bulging upwards at an alarming rate, and there hasn't been a serious eruption in some time.  It could explode tomorrow, or within the next 10 million years.

Basically, when the warning sounds you have all of ten seconds to get away.  Unless you are next to the epicentre, at which point the alarm sounds simultaneously.  Unfortunately the epicentre is where the most warning is needed, but the least is given.  Such is the limit of technology.  Regardless of the fundamental limitations of such a warning system, it still strikes me as incredible that they have stuff like that available to everyone with a phone.  It's remarkable how well it seems to work.

The upshot is that we had a paltry 4 today.  It barely shook the room, but it was interesting what the staff did with the information they were given with the early warning system (which doesn't give information as to how large the quake will be).  They all just stood there, stock still.  They didn't move, didn't dive under desks, they just stood there.

It also interests me what would have if an earthquake occurred at right angle to the track of a fast moving train.  The really big quakes can move metres, and a train track is less than a metre wide.  Would the train just  continue in a straight line, even if the track wasn't underneath it?

Fog Of War

So I've neglected writing over Christmas, as is my wont (it being a holiday and all).  The things I have to report are few, but nonetheless I shall endeavour to hold your interest.

So my keyboard broke (I told you it wasn't interesting!).  On that same day, I embarked upon a four hour quest to buy a keyboard in my local area.  At one stage I was so desperate as to contemplate hopping on a train Tokyo bound until civilisation reared up in the windows.  I stopped at three electronics places, none of which sold keyboards (much to my amazement).  The first was a homely electronics type of shop, selling fridges and whatnot.  I didn't much expect them to sell anything computer related, but I thought I'd check.

The amiable individual manning the desk drew a fantastic map of the local area, directing me to the next place I might try.  At this point my round-the-county trip was only on forty five minutes.

I headed to the second store (it being a geekstore, the proper term I'm not sure of) which sold all things game related.  I'm not talking silly board games that are so thirty years ago, I'm talking computer games.  It wasn't a pokey GAME (tm) (C) (how is this retailer still alive?) store either, it was large.  There were rows of games for every system on racks far too tall for any local to reach.  I ended up helping a grown man pull down a game that had me reaching fractionally above head height, but that's neither here nor there.

How I suspect this type of store survives, is with the sale of manga.  Manga (pron. mang-ga) is basically comic books, but as Japan attracts a certain type of person (I am at pains to ensure the reader realises I neither fraternise, nor condone said archetypes existence) it's best not to say comic book.  When uttered within earshot of the wrong person, the results can be catastrophic.  I have personally witnessed a man talked into stupor about the difference(s) between the two mediums and why one is vastly superior to the other - and this was between two like minded individuals resulting from a mere slip of the tongue.  A layman walking into this trap might well face catatonia.  The same is also true for cartoons, called anime here (pron. ah-nim-may) but I have a hard time making fun of those who would assert a difference between Western and Japanese cartoons.  Essentially, western cartoons are for kids.  Japanese cartoons can be for kids, but can also be for adults.

This, for example, is from a random search of 'violent anime,' on the ubiquitous search engine.

Think Kill Bill.  The scene where that little girl goes mental and starts slaughtering fools with a massive sword. That would never pass censors, but in cartoon form it's perfectly acceptable - apparently.

SO I've completely lost my train of thought, but I was in this shop that sells all things games (headsets, and microphones etc) except it didn't sell mice or keyboards.

I ended up spending another hour and a half riding to the nearest mega-outlet shopping district area mall type affair, to head inside, take five seconds to locate a keyboard, buy it and leave.  The grand total to reach this nirvana of convenience was around three hours and forty five minutes.  The journey back was a pain on account of someone summoning a solid wall of wind that I fought through for the remainder of the journey, but I eventually made it home.  This circular journey taught me two things; ask for directions at every turn because you'll inevitably get lost and; don't ever ask for directions because they'll confuse you and make you even more lost than before, if that's even possible.

So the keyboard works, even if all the keys are different to what it says on the actual faces.  I also took apart the old keyboard to see what was inside it, and they're incredibly simple things.  Two pieces of clear plastic with metallic stripes on them, with a rubber nipple under the key so when you press it down, the pressure causes the two surfaces to contact, with the nipple forcing the key back up when it's let go.

In other uninteresting news, I have to create a lesson about schools in England.  One of the more enterprising teachers in one of my elementary schools has successfully identified that all the English lessons provided by the state are utter bunk, so she demanded I create my own.  I was less than impressed with her choice, not only in content but in the manner of 'asking.'

Anyway, as a lecture style of lesson seems to be her intent, I've made a slideshow.  I'll do a couple of activities with the kids to ensure they're not completely comatose by the end, but here is my creation:

Life in england

I had to amuse myself with the title, and most of the text if I'm honest.  There's no way the kids are going to understand any of the writing.  Also, notice the first page of the slide (after the title).  It's a barnstormer of a line graph chart thingy.  I wanted the kids to know they're not in for a fun lesson, they're here to learn and by golly, they will.  Also, it will take a couple of minute to explain which is perfect on account of it being a 45 minute lesson and me only having 20 odd slides.

I had to email friends to remind me the names of my old primary school (to source pictures) and the houses of the secondary school I attended, completely forgot those as well.

The reason for the title?  I couldn't sleep again.  I've figured out that my body runs a 26 hour day, whereas society only runs at 24 hours/day.  When I was on holiday, I regularly 'lost,' two hours every day, but felt refreshed, energised and happy.  It's only when you run into the contrast of working on the wrong time frame that you realise how messed up we as humans are - worked from 9-5 to earn money to do nothing of merit with our lives.  You would at least think the ten people who own the world would at least let us be happy, but money is built on misery I suppose.  Damn you Richard wossname, who owns virgin records and owns entire countries.

On the flip-side, I wonder if there's a vocation where you can wake up at any time you like, work for the requisite number of hours to pay the food bill, then sleep for fourteen more hours?  I'm thinking writer, but I keep coming back to that so I'm reasonably certain it's a bad idea.  Or a good one.  I'm so tired right now I'm nowhere near sure.

It makes me laugh that people insist that sleeping twelve hours a day makes a person depressed.  That's pure jealousy talking, not science.

Panic Stations!

So I just had a powercut.

Nothing particularly remarkable about that, especially considering this wasn't a weather based cut, but one from ghostly apparitions flicking the switch on my fuse box.

It turns out that running my microwave, PC and a heater is too much.

Previously, I found out that running my PC, air conditioner and hoover were too much - but I digress.

I groped my way to the box, flicking the switch with some effort.  Everything turned back on except the PC, so I went to press life into it.  Alas, nothing happened.

Panic set in, and I whipped out the PSU.  About fifty presses later and nothing was happening.  I gave up, put it on the side (still fully attached) and with a last gasp, I pressed the power button.  To my surprise it worked.  I let it get past BIOS (to ensure the mobo, cpu and mem were fine) then turned it off again.  I loaded the PSU back into the case and turned it back on.  Everything fine.  I then screwed it into the case, turned on the computer and sat back; to a blank screen.

Oh.

I threw logic out of the window and surmised that the screws must have shorted.  I took it out of the PC and nothing happened.I repeated the same process as before to no avail.

I was about to crack open the myriad christmas presents I have on the floor (to entertain me during this long, bleak afternoon) when it fired up.  Now I'm sitting here completely perplexed.

I was previously running the heater and PC on the same bar, so I've split them up, I don't know if that will stop this from recurring, but it makes me feel better inside.

I wonder whether it's an overheating issue?  If the heater and PC are fighting for leccy on the same bar, does that cause it to 'work harder,' (obviously it's an inanimate object, so it doesn't 'try,' to do anything) to get the juice it needs?

Combined (at full juice) my heater and PC need 1500 watts (plus 2 screens and speakers), which seems like quite a lot to me.

Thoughts are very much welcome as to why it wouldn't load up, and ways of avoiding this issue in the future.

I checked the program I was running at the time, no corrupt files, bonus!

I'm going out for a half hour run now, of course I'll turn the computer off in case it goes all arsonist on me.

The PSU doesn't smell funny either, which suggests to me that it's not overheating.  I don't know.

Patents Infringed, BT Ceases to be Relevant

One example

One example of an alleged infringement is Android's ability to allow a music download if a smartphone is connected to a wi-fi network, but to prevent it when the device only has access to a 3G data link.

(Seven Minutes, Countdown Begins) / (There is my Dike)

So apparently the average person falls asleep within seven minutes of going to bed.  Everyone thinks they're special, which makes them not so special - but in this regard I feel I am, if not unique, then gifted with sleeplessness.  Last night for example, it took me over an hour to get to sleep.

How do I know, I hear you cry.  Well, I went to bed at 11.25, stared at the ceiling (or the backs of my eyelids) and looked at my clock some time later; at which point I was greeted with an indication of it being 12.45.  As such, I'm rather tired today.

This isn't a rare occurrence.  I would guess at the average getting-to-sleep (I'm sure there's a technical term for it) time for me being around forty five minutes.  That's an incredible amount of unproductive time.  It's time where my body is not recharging, where my brain isn't regenerating and where I'm not playing games/reading books/watching movies/laughing at Bill Bailey.

If the average person sits on the bog for decades of their life, then I lay on my bed doing absolutely nothing for even more decades.  Twenty one hours per month.  That's a day every month.  That's two weeks a year, lying down, staring at the ceiling.

I've tried herbal shampoo, floral decorations and the 'music,' of bamboo rustling in the wind.  Nothing works.  The only way I can guarantee getting to sleep within an hour of lying down, is to ensure I am ruddy tired before going to bed.  I'm not talking 'I only got six hours sleep last night,' tired (which is what I am now), I'm talking the 'I just went on a seventy-two hour heroine, booze and cocaine bender,' kind of tired.  What's more, the average person requires eight hours of sleep a night, but can function on less.  If I get eight hours, I wake up with a headache, feel crappy and generally zombie my way through the day.  A good nine hours, and I mean nine without being woken up in the middle of the night, the kind of sleep mummified Egyptians excel at, then I'm golden.  That morning is like the blissful awakening, the following day will be fantastic and nothing will stop that being the case.

Now obviously I'm an average person, which makes me suspect we've all been duped.  Our working days are perfectly calculated to ensure we do the most amount of work with the least relaxation time to ensure we're the most productive we can be.  I suspect, therefore, that we need much more sleep than we're led to believe in order to keep us productive.  It's just a theory of course, but one worth thinking about.

Therefore, as an addendum - if anyone has a job with flexible working hours, like a writer for example, then I'm all ears.


#EDIT#  Just came out of a lesson, 'are you sure that's right?'  The kid was adamant that his lesbian was leaning against the wall (I understand the spelling differences, sheesh).  This kid has a particularly nasty form of DATT Syndrome (-head All The Time) so I left him with his lesbian bicycle.  Have fun with that.

Situation NAFU

I remembered about the military lingo website I looked at a while ago.  It had a ton of extra-linguistic direction, showing how to communicate in military sign language ala every action movie you've ever seen.

That last sentence had two red underlined words, try to guess which ones are spelled incorrectly.

Anyway, on this website (the information I gleaned ensures I can now competently hold my own in any hostage situation) there were some cool acronyms that have passed into everyday usage.  One of the relatively common ones is SNAFU.  I dearly love this word, because it could easily be a real loan word.  The usage has changed somewhat, as a snafu is a tight situation, or a sticky one if you're so inclined.  It's common enough that the red wiggly lines aren't showing up, but uncommon enough that I've never heard it in normal conversation.  It essentially means: Situation Normal, All messFed Up.

I think this conveys a mixed message; do you want reinforcements or not?  Who knows.

Anyway, my current situation is nowhere near nafu, it's probably best translated as simply SN.  Therefore, to alleviate boredom (and give me something to write about) I've been trawling the darkest, foulest depths of the internet, resulting in many BBC hits.

This links to some rioting in china.  This is something that happens dozens of times every day, so I don't know why the beeb chose to hone in on this example.  There are thousands of reports of organised protests, by the communists own admission.  This probably means the situation is far more SNAFU'd than we might expect, primarily because those damn commies never tell the truth.  Damn them.  Also damn the capitalists, who in their rush to deny every human being (except themselves) basic human rights, won't even let the poor crap in peace.  It says a lot when it's cheaper to get a man to clean out your portaloo every week, rather than pay the equivalent tax to the government.  The pipes that were laid costs a few dollars to maintain, it costs a few dollars to pay a man to flick some switches here and there, then it costs a few hundred dollars to make sure the mayor has enough cars, hookers and solid gold, ivory plated statuettes to impress the president when he video conferences.

In other communistical news, this article shows you how to create the perfect cigar.  I'm waiting for some pompous fart to point out that tobacco is a drug, and in creating this slideshow the BBC is condoning the use of heroin, crack and/or marijuana, the well known ultimate super drug.  Quick, no one point out that the ingredients are rather difficult to get a hold of, contained as they are on an island that some might call xenophobic.

I honestly didn't know that one should not inhale the smoke into ones lungs.  When I move on from cigarettes and heroin, I'll be sure to heed the advice of this article.  Of course, once I move on from heroin there is only one final destination, with a stopover at marijuana alley.

If you need a reason why religion should be banned, this is it.  Among the crimes committed by the group of punks: looking unsavoury, asking for money, uhm.  Thank christ (see what I did there?) these nutters aren't let loose in any built up area of England.  'Oi mate, got twenty pee, need some fags like.'

There are several terrible things about this story.  Firstly, the people 'fighting,' for their rights think that becoming a punk and listening to shit music is a teenagers way of acting out.

Firstly, I don't know how many thousands of years people in Jakarta have been listening to punk music, maybe it is a part of their cultural heritage, but I seriously doubt it.  It's yet another form of globalisation (yes, me teaching English, IRONY HAHAHAHAA.  Sigh.) that undermines the traditions of the country.

Secondly, punk music is garbage, why would you want to do that?  Why?

Thirdly, 'acting out,' didn't happen before the war, or even after the war, or even in the fifties.  Those hippies have got a hell of a lot to own up to.

Fourthly, Muslims aren't even an ancient and historical part of Indonesia.  They only recently decided to enact spastic, nonsense, made-up law, or as it's known elsewhere 'shariah,' law.  This boils down to, essentially, the ten people in command can punish you for any action, and because there's nothing written down, the response can be anything we want it to be.  Oh, and there are no trials.  Nice.

Fifthly, 'They are Aceh's own children - we are doing this for their own good.  Their future could be at risk.  We are re-educating them so they don't shame their parents.'  Okay, so that's obviously complete and total Orwell.  Which one is it?  Are you 'saving,' them, are you protecting their futures, or are you saving their parents.  When you have to give three crappy reasons for illegally imprisoning your own population, I feel you're starting on the moral back-foot.  Good luck to those who are being re-educated, and good luck to those making up and enacting these faux laws - I fear for your safety once these kids wake up and realise they live in a society that values you less than their mobile phones.  Imagine a country like that eh, where people are the most common (and therefore cheapest) commodity available.  They'd be downtrodden, ground into the dust.  Going to work every day, without a soul, no sense of self.  It'd like being on the tube in rush hour.

Lastly, this old article made me chuckle.  At least the religious nutters in the land of kiwis have got a sense of humour (and no sense of self-preservation apparently).

The Fondness of Stevenage

So the yuropeonz are making a satellite system to watch everything we do, in order to fine us.

I'm not even joking.

They're making a group of so called 'sentinels,' to monitor who's producing what environmental discharge, in order to fine any lawbreakers.  This will, naturally, extend into watching through your window to make sure you're law abiding, but I assume it might take a while until the lense required for that is developed.  It won't be until 2020 that the climate system is operational, so do all your ill-deeds now, before the voyeur satellite is launched (presumably some time before the climate system becomes sentient and takes over the nukes.)

One interesting tidbit gleaned from the article is where it's being made.

Stevenage isn't exactly the first place I think of, when high-tech (hi-tech) industry is mentioned.  This is stupid of course, as my whole family is/was involved in aeronautics and kill-onautics at BAE systems which is a forerunner of pretty much all advanced tech in England.  The problem is that my view of Stevenage is worlds away from the hermetically sealed labs of spacecraft creation.  In my mind, I liken the creation of extra-terrestrial objects to the creation of bacteriological weapons, and as a result the umbrella corporation.  If you don't know what that is, you're not nerdy enough for this blog.  Sorry.  I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

If you do know what that is, then I'm going to have to ask you to get out of your house more often, and possibly get more exercise, while certainly eating more healthily.  As a result, I'm also going to have to ask you to leave.  Sorry.

But look on the bright side.  Stevenage, while not quite Newcastle, Manchester or Hull, still has enough burnt out cars to provide scrap metal aplenty for the ship.  They can make any number of mistakes (something you wouldn't often want to hear uttered around a space mission) and still have enough material to build plenty of spares.

There will be pieces of old Nissan flying around the planet yet, just you wait.

As an addendum, to address my attempt at writing a novel in November (an admirable website called nanowrimo taunted me into starting), I failed.  Quite miserably, I might add, with some 12,500 words written over the course of the month.  The story was about... well something that's for sure.  In those 12,500 words I only managed to establish three scenes within the structure, one of a prison, one of an airship, and one of the airship attacking the prison.  As such, I fear it was a terminal case of the BrÖntes, describing every minute occurrence.  Where it doesn't stack up is in the interest, as I am quite willing to read her work, I would be unwilling to subject a self-aware being to my story.  Quite inhumane.


Also, check this madness out.

Let's Not Go Then

So today is one of the public open days for the Tokyo Motor Show.  It's one of the biggest shows, if not the biggest motor show in the world, and I have a ticket to go.  So am I writing this from inside the giant convention centre?

No, I'm sat at home because I missed the train.

I was at the convenience store buying some breakfast (I'm so sick to my stomach at my own stupidity that I can't even eat that which I bought) when a bent-double old lady appeared.  She was slower than a snail riding a tortoise, but being the gentleman, I let her go ahead of me in the queue (she's spent about ten minutes sidling up to the queue, so technically she was already in it, I guess).

She paid, incredibly slowly I might add, and went on her slow merry way.

So I reach the train station just as the crossing signals were blaring, and had to watch behind closed barriers as my train pulled up to the platform, loaded passengers, and trundled past me.

Very occasionally I get extremely angry, upset, annoyed, frustrated and sad all at once.  When this happens, I tend to become extremely lethargic, so upon being a moron (i.e being nice to the old lady in the shop, as everyone knows that only idiots are nice) I got home and just zoned out in front of the TV for at least an hour.  I still haven't eaten, but I'll get round to it eventually.  There are no fast food restaurants around here, so luckily I can't get a pizza or takeaway.

Every cloud has a silver lining however, and this particular lining is multi-faceted.  Firstly, I don't have to spend the day with those whom I don't want to, plus I don't have to spend over a hundred quid (in train fares, admissions, food, and the Tokyo Gaijin rugby club awards ceremony in Tokyo.).

The downsides are simple: I can't go to the rugby club party (something I actually wanted to do earlier in the week), which undermines my whole effort to integrate (previous attempts include ripping hamstrings in order to prove I'm keen to play for them) and will probably ensure I'm sidelined come January; I won't be able to buy everyone their presents, or their christmas cards.  Christ knows when that's going to happen, now.

There's nothing to be done, I guess.  Except, of course, sit here seething.

I can do that with aplomb.

Time

So I've finally got enough time to write a post, between the time I've spent decidedly not doing university work and avoiding the teachers in my office, after I accidentally down-scaled the print queue, from A4 to B5.  Whoops.

So at the weekend I went to an old boys game at Iwasaki, followed by a bout of ridiculous drinking.  A few things struck me, but I am going to proceed in chronological order so it might take a while to get there.

First up, the game was a simple friendly game of touch.  We played on a pitch that was, quite literally, an inch underwater due to heavy rain the night before, and was never one of the best to begin with.  In essence, it was a bowl of mud, with some mud thrown in for extra mud.  I forwent socks in favour of the South African style no socks.  A choice that I'm glad I made, all told.

An hour before the match I went outside and started place-kicking; something I've not done for a very long time.  I was surprised at how enjoyable it was, but my hamstrings hurt like hell afterwards.

I was hitting around 45% when I was kicking from the pitch, but I couldn't actually place the ball on any firm ground - it floated away before I could kick it.  I therefore switched to the corners, aiming at the uprights from the side.  The aim being to hit the only post visible from that angle.  I managed to squarely hit it once and graze it a few times.  I managed to get bloody close though, and the majority of my attempts were exceedingly close.  I would probably give it a 75% hit rate for normal conversions, which is okay I suppose.  It turns out that having a patch of grass to kick from, rather than a puddle, makes things substantially easier.

The matches were fun, but being touch aren't really worth commenting on.

So I was originally supposed to stay at the after-party until 10.30 at which point I would catch the last train home.

Interestingly, the last train home did not, in fact, go home.  It stopped half a dozen stops before my transfer station, so it became impossible to go home.  Having got a lift to the station, I trudged back to the party.  It's amazing how bright the night is here, I could see the local big city radiating light over the brow of a hill as I walked, and even thought there was no sound, it looked like a there was a massive incandescent fire rolling around just out of view.  That or a jellyfish.

I can't decide whether that view was because the city is just so bright, or because that particular area was so vast and rural.

Anyway, trudge I did, and upon re-entering the party a small arm-wrestling competition had broken out.

Being the foreigner, I was invited to challenge one of the underlings (everyone is ranked by ability in everything, so the club had a champion who designated who should compete with who).  I dispatched the underling (a lock I believe) raising an eyebrow here or there.  I then competed with the old master, a prop who was more prop than man, but under his belly lied a strong arm.  I beat him, setting up a title fight with the king of the fiefdom.  It was a surprisingly long battle, with a man who weighed 135kg's (another prop.)  The table took a battering, with it bowing in the middle (we were both holding onto either edge, so we were essentially folding it around our elbows.)  After what felt like an eternity, he relented, allowing me to slam his hand down in glorious victory.

After about ten minutes of recovery time, he asked for a rematch.  I made him promise that this was the last (my shoulder still aches) and we were fighting for national pride once more.  The man hits the gym regularly, and he isn't weak, and in this second fight, as he was straining with all his might, he sprang a leak.  As blood burst forth from his nose, his elbow began lifting, and at its peak was three inches off the table; at this point he was essentially scrummaging my arm off the table with his whole body.  This had ceased to be an arm wrestle.  The table was decidedly more U-shaped than when it began, meaning that to win, we needn't push the opponent far.

After much blood, and four people holding the table down, I was declared the victor.  It was more of a technical knockout as I don't have the ability to bend others to my will, I simply hold out long enough for them to wear down and tire out.  It's an extremely slow process that involved more than a few words of swearing.

Anyway, after this, I settled down with an orange juice and wore the night down talking to a crazy woman and the man who introduced me to this particular club in the first place.  It was quite interesting, but I would have rather been at home.

I bedded down in the club room (on a futon, with a pillow and everything) to be awakened (after the worst nights sleep ever) the next day.

At this point, I would like to add a few photographs, but wouldn't you know it, home beckons.  I'll finish it up tomorrow.

So it's now tomorrow.

I wanted to show you the picture of me sleeping, but my friend deleted it, so now no one will ever see!

What I will show you is this:

This was shortly before some seriously crazy shit happened.

Everyone appears relatively sober at this point.  It's worth noting that the stuff they're holding up is showing support for one of the towns affected by the earthquake, something akin to 'do your best.'

That must be a captivating stain on the floor.

I have completely zoned out in the picture.  Your guess is as good as mine as to why, why goddamn I look terminally stupid.  Also, I don't know why I'm wearing shorts.  It's three degreee outside (hence why I'm wearing my coat inside).

Also, this was taken immediately prior to the main event of the evening - naked rugby.

A group of lads went outside (in the freezing night) completely starkers.  One of them had a headband on, securing a strange flag.  I don't know why.

This was in front of everyone as they took photographs and videos - they seemed to love it.

Interestingly for me, it was also in front of some of the kids.  There was obviously nothing sexual, but these guys would have been arrested, locked away for 25 years and put on the sex offenders register in England.  Remember, naked =/= sex.  Yet another reason why christianity should be outlawed (and all religion for that matter).

I don't have any photos of that.  Sorry ladies.

Please Waiting

So it was originally my plan to write about the weekend, which was rather different to the normal.

Instead, I ran around obtaining presents, preparing to send a big package to England, with some of the least imaginative, boring 'presents,' to ever be gifted.  It's exceedingly difficult to find presents that are interesting when everything is either vegetables (in my hometown) or prada (at the local outlet mall).

I also did a bit of teaching in-between, but don't worry, it wasn't a lot.

In the meantime, check out this advertisment that was taken down due to death threats.

You know it's going to be good when it's suffixed with 'deaths threats.'

No, I Can't

First up, once again, Jeremy Clarkson is my hero.

"I'd have them all shot. I would take them outside and execute them in front of their families."

The reason I think the strikers are stupid is a relatively simple one.  Striking will change nothing.  Two million people sounds like a lot, but there weren't actually two million people striking.  There were two million individuals on strike, without a coherent voice.  Before you turn around and say 'their demands were simple, fewer fees and a lowered retirement age,' that's all good and well, except there is no representation.  Who will the government strike a deal with, who is their representative?  There are probably dozens of sub-unions within such a group, and none of them are worth bothering with in terms of negotiations.

The only real way to enact change, as has been proven for millennia, is with force.  Egypt didn't change (although it hasn't really changed at all) governments by petitioning local politicians to 'please, if you wouldn't awfully mind, stop being corrupt please?'  This strike is as riled as a mob in England gets, and I'm pretty disappointed if I'm honest.

Two million people milling around while enjoying a day off work is ineffective, to say the least.  The potential for change within such a small group is amazing, and was left bizarrely untapped.

Give me a megaphone, fifty thousand people and a million matches, and I will deliver unto you a change in government.  And lots of toasted marshmallows.

In other news, I found this government website that's designed to encourage hackers to out themselves.  The idea being that the government will use this as a promotional tool, recruiting anyone who can break the code.  What I actually think is happening is far more interesting; anyone who breaks the code will be seen to by Jeremy Clarkson and his shotgun.  That way, all the intelligent people in England will be dead, and everyone can live happy in a safer world.

Regarding the quiz, see the title.  It looks like hex, but I'll be damned if I can be bothered to figure out the values underneath them.  It's not even text, so I can't just copy it all into a converter.  Also, the smallest unit of hex is a nibble.  Bit, byte, tera, peta, giga, mega, kila, and a nibble.  All computing terms.  Someone had a sense of humour with the last one!

In other news, this video is of a dance that's particularly cool, from the lost travellers website.  I like the fact it's sped up, it adds something entirely new to the whole idea (namely being able to discern the change in sunlight and direction, without having to keep a fixed point of reference).  Obviously the video isn't meant as an end in itself, but it's interesting.

#EDIT#

It's good to see that igor has found a new job as the Egyptian tourist minister (or something).