I am reading this paperback by Bill Bryson (yes, but who else).
Surprisingly for a tongue-permanently-in-cheek novelist, this one is in fact a rough guide to the birth and development of the thing called SCIENCE, aptly titled 'A Short History of Nearly Everything'. Gee, I didn't even have the slightest clue when I bought the book hastily at the Singapore airport bookstore for some 'light reading' on my Bali trip. Not a good move. Not light at all in any sense of the word.
Lucky for me - not only am I reading it, I am finding it tremendously entertaining and powerful. Gasp. Science? As in physics, chemistry, geology, biology, astronomy and a whole lot of abstract math? Good Lord, am I in my right mind?
Yes, yes and yes. You see, Bill is beyond interesting. He can write about the relation between the quality of toilets in North Dakota and the rate of growth of your toenail, and leave you amazed by the wonders of American sanitation and your own personal well-being.
And in between that he'll have you fall off the chair for laughing too hard.
In a word, he's BRILLIANT.
A word of caution though, this book is not an easy read, especially for those untrained in the sciences. However, Bill (who is not any scientist himself) tells the story in the most layman and entertaining manner, relating not only the facts and figures but jewels of anecdotes that you will never find in your science textbooks.
The breadth of coverage is so wide, and his historic characters so full of personalities that I cannot fathom how long he took to do his research, or how many books and people he had to plough through for information.
For once I am glad that I took my horrible science classes. At least now I could understand what was going on with the electron clouds and cosmic rays.
So there, I am looking forward to many more good nights with the book in bed accompanied by geniuses like Darwin, Einstein, Bell, Newton, Boyle, Hubble (yes, of the space telescope fame) and many more. I guess you should too.
Oh by the way, I have just established a life ambition...
To lunch with Bill sometime.
Monday, June 21, 2004
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Changing Tastebuds
Not specifically pertaining to the anatomy commonly known as the tongue, but taste in all sense of the word. Style, color, habits, loves and hates etc.
Take this blog template for example. I used to hate polka dots to the extent that hatred is actually a gross understatement. In fact, there was immediate physical allergy to seeing any cluster of circular or spherical objects. Even the Olympic logo came quite close to triggering a goosebump overload. It was a miracle that I survived Chemistry class drawing all those round molecular structures with little round electrons...
Now, probably effected by a change in age and hence intriguing changes to the likeness of some alkaline or hormonal levels, I have began to appreciate the beauty of round holey dotty shapes.
Similarly, I have adopted a strange liking for loud colors. The likes of red, orange, yellow, lime green, purple and pink. Yessir, PINK. Pink as in the color of cartoon pigs, pink as in the shade you get when you mix red and white paints. The pink that is universally associated with airy fairy girlish romance and, Lord behold, the color that has a human equivalent of Elle Woods a la Legally Blonde. "eeeew!"
Not strange at all for a girl you'd say, but it's really a 180-degree turn considering my past favorites of navy blue, khaki, brown... I think you get the picture.
Food-wise, I had always thought that food isn't worth tasting if there was no accompanying dollop of fiery hot sambal chilli or extra cheese toppings. In other words, I was a all for strong, pack-a-punch flavors. That was a time when I equate plain salad to cow feed.
However to my own dismay, I am becoming more unadventurous and mudane in my choice of food lately, developing appreciation for what a food column might describe as 'healthy, with mild, gentle flavors of natural juices'... Thank God I have yet to turn to puritan au naturel salads or wholesome organic bread, though I think that will be all for the better. A long overdue wake-up call from all that junk food overload.
So, who said anything about a leopard never changing its spots? You just can't be too sure.
Take this blog template for example. I used to hate polka dots to the extent that hatred is actually a gross understatement. In fact, there was immediate physical allergy to seeing any cluster of circular or spherical objects. Even the Olympic logo came quite close to triggering a goosebump overload. It was a miracle that I survived Chemistry class drawing all those round molecular structures with little round electrons...
Now, probably effected by a change in age and hence intriguing changes to the likeness of some alkaline or hormonal levels, I have began to appreciate the beauty of round holey dotty shapes.
Similarly, I have adopted a strange liking for loud colors. The likes of red, orange, yellow, lime green, purple and pink. Yessir, PINK. Pink as in the color of cartoon pigs, pink as in the shade you get when you mix red and white paints. The pink that is universally associated with airy fairy girlish romance and, Lord behold, the color that has a human equivalent of Elle Woods a la Legally Blonde. "eeeew!"
Not strange at all for a girl you'd say, but it's really a 180-degree turn considering my past favorites of navy blue, khaki, brown... I think you get the picture.
Food-wise, I had always thought that food isn't worth tasting if there was no accompanying dollop of fiery hot sambal chilli or extra cheese toppings. In other words, I was a all for strong, pack-a-punch flavors. That was a time when I equate plain salad to cow feed.
However to my own dismay, I am becoming more unadventurous and mudane in my choice of food lately, developing appreciation for what a food column might describe as 'healthy, with mild, gentle flavors of natural juices'... Thank God I have yet to turn to puritan au naturel salads or wholesome organic bread, though I think that will be all for the better. A long overdue wake-up call from all that junk food overload.
So, who said anything about a leopard never changing its spots? You just can't be too sure.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Another First Attempt
I believe this is my third or fourth attempt at creating an online diary. Shucks, said the wrong thing (truly unhip). A blog, I beg your pardon.
The problem with me is that it does not take alot on my part to ensure that my countless enterprising projects go uncompleted. I mean, if you take into account of all that I've started writing, you can actually publish a complete works of imcomplete essays.
Call it a lack of focus, fickle-mindedness, or too many ideas too little time. Whatever it is, I suspect it's a permanent feature that's here to stay. However, that does not deter me from yet attempting to start many more great projects, such as this blog. Maybe, just maybe, I will eventually reach completion for at least one of them.
That's why I keep trying. Like those fancy little diaries that I buy and scribble about 2 days worth of deep and thoughtful insights on diets and boyfriends (which, by the way, make me cringe everytime I read afterward) before chucking them aside into oblivion. I imagine that this blog would probably suffer the same, if not more environmental-friendly fate. Still, with my typical optimism and ironically, a good deal of persistence, who knows, I might keep on writing here till the good ole internet days are over.
For this, I make Johnny Walker my muse. Keep (walking) writing.
The problem with me is that it does not take alot on my part to ensure that my countless enterprising projects go uncompleted. I mean, if you take into account of all that I've started writing, you can actually publish a complete works of imcomplete essays.
Call it a lack of focus, fickle-mindedness, or too many ideas too little time. Whatever it is, I suspect it's a permanent feature that's here to stay. However, that does not deter me from yet attempting to start many more great projects, such as this blog. Maybe, just maybe, I will eventually reach completion for at least one of them.
That's why I keep trying. Like those fancy little diaries that I buy and scribble about 2 days worth of deep and thoughtful insights on diets and boyfriends (which, by the way, make me cringe everytime I read afterward) before chucking them aside into oblivion. I imagine that this blog would probably suffer the same, if not more environmental-friendly fate. Still, with my typical optimism and ironically, a good deal of persistence, who knows, I might keep on writing here till the good ole internet days are over.
For this, I make Johnny Walker my muse. Keep (walking) writing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)