Taniard

Mark Bittman: What's wrong with what we eat | Video on TED.com

Wed, 19 Jun 2013 06:41:54 +0800

Mark Bittman: What's wrong with what we eat | Video on TED.com:

In this fiery and funny talk, New York Times food writer Mark Bittman weighs in on what’s wrong with the way we eat now (too much meat, too few plants; too much fast food, too little home cooking), and why it’s putting the entire planet at risk.

A very simple, logical talk. Thanks, Mark.

Imagine Dragons - Demons (Official Music Video) (by...

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 03:34:54 +0800

Imagine Dragons - Demons (Official Music Video) (by ImagineDragonsVEVO)

Why Diamonds Are A Sham

Fri, 14 Jun 2013 06:17:50 +0800

Why Diamonds Are A Sham:

Another brilliant marketing and business strategy. Its fascinating how easily you can fabricate cultural norms.

Today I felt the stress. I lay down in my bed and felt the tension release in my back. That’s...

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 11:53:49 +0800

Today I felt the stress. I lay down in my bed and felt the tension release in my back. That’s how you know you’re stressed, and that’s how you need more yoga up in your life.

We treat others the way we wish to be treated. So maybe that’s why I judge people. I...

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 10:29:45 +0800

We treat others the way we wish to be treated. So maybe that’s why I judge people. I desperately try to find something about them - the way the look, the shoes they wear, that tells me something about them without having to face them and learn who they really are. Because I’m afraid that if they were to look at me for what I really am, they wouldn’t be impressed.

caniformia: Taro- Alt J The riff in this song is mesmerizing....

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 12:19:45 +0800

caniformia:

Taro- Alt J

The riff in this song is mesmerizing. A great track.

The Bacon-Wrapped Economy

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 11:41:52 +0800

The Bacon-Wrapped Economy:

Last July, Google threw an office party. But this being Google — the third largest company in the world as of January — it wasn’t really a standard ice-cream-cake-and-canned-beer office party.

This article talks about three cool points:

How the transfer of money to younger people in the bay area is affecting arts, culture, and the idea of ‘philanthropy’.
How the idea of value in The Bay area is somewhat removed from value in a wider, global perspective.
How young grads with 100k+ salaries are struggling to deal with it.

I think it brings up a lot of interesting and real (from my perspective and experience, at least) issues for that area, people my age, and the general future of technological advancement. A good read.

The Hubble Ultra Deep Field in 3D (by tdarnell) Humbling.

Fri, 07 Jun 2013 01:05:58 +0800

The Hubble Ultra Deep Field in 3D (by tdarnell)

Humbling.

justsmilelovelife: I had the best savasana to this song...

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 11:56:58 +0800

justsmilelovelife:

I had the best savasana to this song tonight.

smokeinhiseyes comments on Dealing with the faithful without getting angry

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 11:56:51 +0800

smokeinhiseyes comments on Dealing with the faithful without getting angry:

As a therapist, I can tell you that when most people share something with you, what they really want is to be listened to. It’s almost the entire reas…

A reddit post on dealing with people different world/faith views than you. This is an idea which I have been pondering for a while - how to deal with this. I think this person gives an excellent explanation. Because it transcends the idea of trying to understand one’s religion, and just listening to people in general, and why we really tell people things to begin with.

Very insightful, thank you.

Jon Lovett l 2013 Pitzer College Commencement Keynote —...

Tue, 04 Jun 2013 09:04:50 +0800

Jon Lovett l 2013 Pitzer College Commencement Keynote — May 18, 2013 (by PitzerCollege)

The Kitten Maneuver

Mon, 03 Jun 2013 08:04:43 +0800

Mom: So when do you think you’ll be coming home next this term?

Me: I don’t know if I will, there’s so much to do here and it’s a decent car ride.

Mom: Ah, OK, well we’ll look into coming up then.

The next day…

Sister: WE GOT A KITTEN!

…Touché, mom. See you soon.

Something about how comfortable I am with packing my entire life...

Thu, 30 May 2013 11:54:00 +0800

Something about how comfortable I am with packing my entire life up and moving, and that I can do it in under an hour, just makes you stop and think for a little bit. The nomad life.

natures-first-green-is-gold: Dirt Poster is a Design and...

Tue, 28 May 2013 23:47:02 +0800

natures-first-green-is-gold:

Dirt Poster is a Design and Graphic-Design work made by Roland Reiner Tiangco, a new graduate of a Design School, living in New York. While handling the poster, your hands starts to get dirty, and this dirt allows you to see what’s the poster is all about. Check out also the artist’s Website.

Owners of a Raspberry PI, what do you use it for? : AskReddit

Tue, 28 May 2013 21:51:28 +0800

Owners of a Raspberry PI, what do you use it for? : AskReddit:

So many cool things! I want one now.

littlebigdetails: iA Writer - When selecting a chunk of text,...

Mon, 27 May 2013 23:33:26 +0800

littlebigdetails:

iA Writer - When selecting a chunk of text, the stats at the bottom change to reflect the selection, and appear selected themselves.

I like the UX feature almost as much as the quote.

The flawed concept of "Good VS Evil" - Hayao Miyazaki

Fri, 24 May 2013 21:47:27 +0800

The flawed concept of "Good VS Evil" - Hayao Miyazaki :

Imgur is used to share photos with social networks and online communities, and has the funniest pictures from all over the Internet.

On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning

Fri, 24 May 2013 10:27:05 +0800

On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning:

It’s been a while since I read something that took my breath away.

On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning.

Fri, 24 May 2013 10:25:07 +0800

One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo’s fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl.

Tell you the truth, she’s not that good looking. She doesn’t stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn’t young, either must be near thirty, not even close to a “girl,” properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She’s the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there’s a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert. Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you’re drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I’ll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose.

But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can’t recall the shape of hers or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It’s weird.

“Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl,” I tell someone.

“Yeah?” he says. “Goodlooking?”

“Not really.”

“Your favorite type, then?”

“I don’t know. I can’t seem to remember anything about her the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts.”

“Strange.”

“Yeah. Strange.”

“So anyhow,” he says, already bored, “what did you do? Talk to her?

Follow her?”

“Nah. Just passed her on the street.”

She’s walking east to west, and I west to east. It’s a really nice April morning. Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and what I’d really like to do explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world. After talking, we’d have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.

Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.

Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.

How can I approach her? What should I say?

“Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?”

Ridiculous. I’d sound like an insurance salesman.

“Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an allnight cleaners in the neighborhood?”

No, this is just as ridiculous. I’m not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who’s going to buy a line like that?

Maybe the simple truth would do. “Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me.”

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you’re not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I’d probably go to pieces. I’d never recover from the shock.

I’m thirty two, and that’s what growing older is all about. We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can’t bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She’s written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she’s ever had.

I take a few more strides and turn: She’s lost in the crowd.

Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.

Oh, well. It would have started “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think?”

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened.

One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street.

“This is amazing,” he said. “I’ve been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you’re the 100% perfect girl for me.”

“And you,” she said to him, “are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I’d pictured you in every detail. It’s like a dream.”They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It’s a miracle, a cosmic miracle.

As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one’s dreams to come true so easily?

And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves just once. If we really are each other’s 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we’ll marry then and there. What do you think?”

“Yes,” she said, “that is exactly what we should do.”

And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.

The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other’s 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.

One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season’s terrible influenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence’s piggy bank.

They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty two, the girl thirty.

One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a specialdelivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:

She is the 100% perfect girl for me.

He is the 100% perfect boy for me.

But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fourteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.

A sad story, don’t you think?

Yes, that’s it, that is what I should have said to her.

Ah.

Sat, 18 May 2013 23:37:15 +0800

Ah.