Taken from here: http://www.futureofthebook.org/blog/archives/2012/04/these_drawings_date_from_1982.html, this is such a cool post on the drawings of the future of the book. People have already envisioned things like the tablet and 3G and all, that at that time, they didn’t name it those names. But for us living in this era, we know exactly what the products have turned out to be.
Burnout
It’s time to take a breather and I’m glad Good Friday has finally come, to allow me to do so. It’s very strange that I’m just an intern at my dream company but I’m swamped with work. In a sense, it’s my fault because I’m putting pressure on myself to meet my own personal expectations. But that’s what makes the internship experience memorable right? The fact that you did something meaningful and that you learnt a lot.
I’m glad to have a wonderful mentor who cares about me despite her busyness. That she tries to give me things to do and find things for me, even though she didn’t have anything planned for me in the first place. And when I proposed my own project, she was so supportive of it that she went all out to find links for me to answer my questions. That when I swamp her with questions, she takes time out of her work to try and answer them and look for answers, and to teach me the concepts. She cares about my personal growth as well, and teaches me how to answer people and how to deal with people in meetings and all. She also worries for me about my scholarship status, which currently is very very fuzzy, and tries her best in helping me. That’s why, despite given so many opportunities to change labs, I chose to stick with her. Because I know I’ll benefit a lot from her.
Besides this, I’m really exhausted because I’ve driving lessons in the evenings. Unlike two months ago when I only did a part-time job in the afternoon, I have to rush to the center after work, in my tired state. Finally today I can book my test, but I need loads of revision lessons to curb my anxiety. And I’ve got to work more on my lane changing and turning. I do hope I can pass it on the first round!!
Okay enough said. It’s time to pick myself up again and stop complaining. To immerse myself fully in my work and try my best!
[Brain] Ventral and Dorsal Streams
It’s been a long time since I’ve wrote anything here. I’ve been recently flooded with work, but that’s a good thing, because that means I’m learning a lot and my internship is meaningful — although that also means less time to play and scroll Twitter or Facebook or Tumblr, and also that my pay is not entirely free anymore.
Since I can’t always have that nice peaceful moment to churn out stories, I shall now post some interesting nuggets of information I’ve found out over the week.
The brain has two streams, a ventral and a dorsal one. Although there are controversies like how segregated these streams are from each other, neuroscientists generally agree upon the existence of the two streams.
The dorsal stream, also called the “where stream” in less formal terms is an unconscious pathway for determining the location of an item. It’s involved in spatial awareness, which means it determines where an object is with respect to the other objects in the space and thus guides actions, say grabbing a pencil. It has a detailed map of the visual field and is involved in detecting and analysing movements, perceiving and interpreting spatial relationships and coordinating the body’s actions in space.
The ventral stream, also called the “what stream” is a conscious pathway in object recognition. It’s the stream where we consciously classify objects into, say, “apple”, “pear” and so on. It’s influenced by a person’s attention, working memory and the stimulus around it.
Put together, these streams are called the two-streams hypothesis for visual processing. What’s most important is how a person’s ability to function normally is impaired when one or both of these streams are damaged. When the dorsal stream is damaged in Simultanagnosia, the patient can only describe singular objects but is unable to place them into context. The patient can identify the existence of a chair, but not the existence of a chair in the room. In Optic ataxia, which is the most interesting spatial disorder in my opinion, the patient cannot use visuospatial information to guide arm movements. The patient can determine the existence of a pen, but when trying to grab it, always misses. In hemispatial neglect, the patient is unaware of half of the space that correlates to the lesion that is damaged. For example, the patient may draw a clock then label it from 12 through 6 only and deem the drawing complete. Akinetopsia is a sad condition in its inability to perceive motion — I do wonder how patients survive with that.
You can read more on these streams by just typing the key terms into Google and there is a host of research that has been done on this, and research is still on going. Oh, the brain is such a fascinating matter.
[InMon] [Picture Press] All these time I was wrong
Oh me of little faith. Sometimes I wonder what’s going through my mind when I make such audacious assumptions and come to such ridiculous conclusions. Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see. But if we’re hoping for something and we doubt that we can achieve it, how to have faith?
I see the light at the end of the tunnel; oh I am reaching my goal. The goal that I’ve worked myself towards throughout the last twelve years of schooling. Yet, there’s just one missing piece to the completed picture. I do hope that the piece arrives soon and complete the picture, wholesomely. Then I can truly say that I had faith to step up and take these steps, these steps in the road I never thought I would walk. But most importantly, I can say that all these time I was wrong in doubting myself. That I am a truly exceptional person and will strive towards greater heights.
Oh thank you Lord for blessing me. Please answer the last prayer I have for this year.
Running away, restrained much
[I'm lacking behind in my writing and I decide to write again. I hope I can still spare time to write in the week, despite my busy schedule. It's gonna be a hectic two weeks till April 3rd! ]
Voyage by Carolyn Emily
If I could have my way, I would want to be that long, flowing veil. That flows about without worries, that illusion of a carefree life. That beautiful, sweet facade that everybody adores.
Though deep inside I would be hurting, or struggling with myself to come to terms with the outside world, to balance out between my expectations and reality, but on the outside, I am wholesome. I am an angel. The kind that goes around helping people out, the kind that always seem to know everything, just that it is all for show.
Alright. That was plain rubbish. I want to be inherently happy. Deep inside, I want to curb all those feelings of inadequacy. I want to step out of my comfort zone and this box that I’ve defined for myself for all my life. Why should I let myself be defined by my past? It’s the future after all, it has no bearing on the past. I want to live life without regrets, but I am constantly being reminded of the decisions I have made before this, and constantly finding excuses for them. I want to find someone who loves me truly, and can lend me a comforting shoulder or shower me with words of encouragement when I need them. Maybe I would find someone I can spend my life with. Hopefully eternity.
See a new annointing, each new day I will enjoy.
Picking up the pieces once again
I’ve been lagging behind in my writing. Way behind. For all the stories I contort in my head on the train ride to work or the ride home from work, I never wrote them down. I can remember bits and pieces of them here and there, but it will all only solidify if I write them down.
Thing is, I don’t have the time anymore. Nor do I have the mood. I’ve recently been very down because at my new workplace I have so much to learn, so much new things that I never learnt in school. Okay, its the same everywhere, but these are technical stuff which aren’t easy to pick up for someone who doesn’t even have an undergraduate education yet. Plus at home, things aren’t going too well and I worry for each day. Many days I don’t even feel like going home. Maybe I’ll just go the hotel near my house and sit there and read my book all the way through the night, then head home at 10pm. Maybe my family is tearing itself into pieces. But maybe this can be saved. I don’t know. I don’t know.
Right now, I hope and pray that God will see me through. Because not by might nor by power but by the Spirit says the Lord. With Him all things are possible.
[Picture Press] Winding Road
angelica130406.tumblr.com
I’m stepping out and breaking through
I fix my eyes on You.
I found my way despite the storm
Thank you for guiding me through.
A narrow road, no turning back,
But I know you’re walking alongside me.
I can’t see the end but I know I’ll get there,
Because you’re in it with me.
Though its tough what lies ahead,
But I’m prepared to grit my way through.
People may talk, and question my choice,
But deep inside my heart, I know,
This is my Destiny.
[InMon] Deafening Paper
The ringing sound of the paper hitting the table still persisted in her ears, way after she left the office. She staggered in her steps towards the lift as she recalled the scene of herself staring at the paper, clueless about the next step ahead. The paper was cluttered with facts, but useless facts, none of which were helpful in solving the case. She knew which eye-witnesses were telling the truth and which were concealing the matter, but she couldn’t prove her hunches. She knew the root cause of these problems and the exact reasons why those who lied did so — money and power.
Inside the lift, she covered her ears with both her hands and shook her head violently as she screamed in desperation. She had a conscience to protect, her integrity to live up, but how could she do so in this situation? She was stumped, and more puzzled than she had ever been in her entire career.
She stepped out of the lift, remembering how she threw the paper down in frustration, then stood in a daze at the lift lobby. Her subconscious brain began scanning through every single type-written text, annotation and scribble on the paper. She had read those words too many times that she could produce an accurate mental picture of the paper. Suddenly, her brain stopped scanning mid-way. It zoomed into a portion of text she had glanced over many times, but had not truly scrutinized it. Her face lit up and she broke into a slow smile.
She pushed her handbag up her shoulder and ran out of the lobby, her heels clicking furiously in tandem with her speed. She hurriedly got into her car, reversed it out of the narrow parking lot and sped off. She was going to find more evidence. And she knew exactly where to look — the grave of the dead twenty years ago. As she drove, she mumbled, “Antimony. Antimony. The corpse should still be preserved.”
[Six Word Friday] Surrender
All these unnecessary worries inside me
All the fears of daring to step out
Deep inside, I’m dying to fly,
But I’m held back by rationality.
Today, I will overcome all these
Push the limits and fly high
You never know what I’ll become
And I’m eager to find out as well.
[Picture Press] Poker
Poker by Klara Yoon (http://klarayoon.wordpress.com/)
The bald guy held his champagne glass delicately, with fingers sticking out, as a graceful Chinese woman would hold hers. He sipped his tea, and smacked his lips. The smuching sound disrupted the silence that hung in the air. At which, his opponent turned to look at him. He smiled, then both turned back to the hand of cards that were laid out in front of them. The stakes were high for both parties, but perhaps one had more to lose.
The clock was ticking away, each tick getting louder as it passed. Yet, neither parties showed any signs of hurry. Both were intently concentrated on the game, the game where they tried to read their opponent’s minds, the game where they tried to fool their opponent’s minds. To do so, they kept as straight a face as possible, that classic ‘poker face’. Occasionally, one of them would sip the wine, or dig his ear, but other than that, neither stood up nor glanced at the clock.
At the stroke of midnight, the bespectacled Chinese threw down his hand in desperation. He sighed heavily and said in a monotone, still portraying that expressionless face, “I give up. You win.”
A smile crept onto the face of the bald American. His lips slowly curled up into an upturned smile. He leaned forward towards the table and calmly spread his hand out. “You lost. Now, will you surrender?”
The Chinese nodded his head slowly, and stood up, both hands raised, to face his fate. The American stood and buttoned up his blazer, then walked towards his opponent. But before his steps reached the Chinese, the Chinese pulled out a gun from his coat pocket and turned it towards himself. “Don’t you dare,” hissed the American.
The Chinese steadied his hand over the trigger and burst into a hysterical laughter. “Do you think I don’t?” He pulled the trigger hard. While he fell to the floor, he screamed, “Never, will I let you Americans take what is ours!”
