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The following chart shows my laptop battery charge over exactly two weeks of standard use. One square is 14 hours. The flatter areas are when the laptop is asleep. Red, it's asleep unplugged in my desk drawer; blue, it's asleep plugged in on my desk (usually to recharge overnight).
Things have changed a lot from when all my useful work was done on my laptop.
And then, to cap it all off, there was a power cut in the middle of the movie. Although that was no one's fault and it was back on again pretty quickly.
1 In Kiwibank's defense, they did try to call me when they realised the mistake, but they don't have my work number. They were helpful and are sending me a new card in the mail. And fortunately I set up my new credit card with a PIN, so although I can't access cash, I can access credit.
Easy! Cook dinner... but make it last.
8.20 am
9.05 am
10.05 am
10.40 am
2.25 pm
3.55 pm
4.20 pm
In case you're wondering about the order, it's important to cook dessert first so that the kitchen gets warm from the oven being on. You need this in addition to, not instead of, ambient heating if you want bread to rise in winter.
Last week I got some good internet for the first time since September 2009.
It cost me $10.
I really need to find a place to live with good internet.
Because I prefer webmail to mail clients, I use Google Notifier on my Mac. Most of the time it's great, but sometimes... it just... gets... in the way.
It takes fricking ages for the notification to fade so that I can continue typing my Google search term. If I mouse to the corner too quickly in anticipation of continuing my search, the notifier thinks I'm mousing to its message, and makes the damn thing come back again. Then I have to wait longer. And there's no way to customise it to appear in the opposite corner.
Late in the evening of Tuesday 22 June, I filled out an online application for a Kiwibank credit card.
At the end of the application process I got "instantly approved" (I guess they run the provided income and liabilities data through a simple solvency check) and a message appeared asking me to verify my identity in person at a Kiwibank branch. In an ideal world this wouldn't be necessary, because I hold other accounts with Kiwibank, but I guess supplying credit requires an extra level of security. So I wrote down the application number and the names of the documents they asked for and resolved to take them into a branch as soon as I could find the time.
Wednesday 23 June was release day for the Balance of Payments. No macroeconomist had time for a long lunch, me included, so going to the bank had to wait.
During the afternoon of Wednesday 23 June I received a polite email from Kiwibank thanking me for my credit card application. They didn't include a reminder to take my documents to a branch, which was fine, cos it was well flagged in the online application form.
On Thursday 24 June I took a longish lunch (despite it being release day for GDP) and dropped my documents into the nearest Kiwibank branch. The nice lady at the counter thanked me and said she would send them off straight away.
During the afternoon of Thursday 24 June, someone from Kiwibank called my home number and freaked out my sister. On being told that I wasn't home, the caller initially refused to identify herself, demanded my cellphone number, then when my sister refused to give it to her she admitted to being from a bank, but wouldn't say which one or what the call was about. She left an instruction for me to call an 0800 number which turned out to be the number for the Kiwibank credit card application call centre.
After my sister passed the message on I called the number, spent 10 minutes on hold, then got through to someone who said "oh yes, we just want to remind you to take your documents into a branch..." I wasn't best pleased at spending time on hold to be reminded to do something I'd done several hours before, so I was rather sharp. After ending the call I wondered why on earth they hadn't sent me the reminder by email or even post.
On Friday, 25 June, I received an email from Kiwibank reminding me to take my documents into a branch.
On Sunday, 27 June, I received a letter from Kiwibank dated 25 June, reminding me to take my documents into a branch.
On Wednesday, 30 June, I reluctantly phoned Kiwibank again to find out how the application was going. This time I got through straight away and they told me they'd received my documents on Monday. My card had been dispatched.
When I arrived home this evening, my credit card was in the letterbox.
I really enjoyed reading Mother Tongue. Dating from 1990, 13 years ahead of Bryson's remarkable A Short History of Nearly Everything, this history of the English language shows off a formidable talent for non-fiction storytelling. From the very beginnings of an ancient language called Indo-European, right through to today's English with its illogical spelling and continual borrowing from other languages, Bryson traces out an intriguing story using a pleasant chatty style.
By liberally sprinkling factoids through the book, Bryson avoids any risk of his story growing dull. At the end of a passage on the Norman conquest, he drops in the interesting fact that George I of the eighteenth century spoke no English. After discussing at some length the creation of words by back-formation, he tells us of Robert Browning's horrible mistake regarding the word "twat". In the midst of a detailed chapter on dialects of English, he throws in a few jokes about "Strine", the dialect spoken across the Tasman. And so forth. It's a brilliant technique and it furnishes the reader with all sorts of useless information to bring out at parties.
Before reading Mother Tongue, I knew nothing at all about English history, how choking is fundamentally related to language, the trials of Japanese typists, or the difficulties of international branding. After reading it, I know a little something about each of these things, and many other subjects besides. For sheer density of information, Mother Tongue is an excellent book; for masterful handling of a truly fascinating story, it's amazing.
The amazing Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra have just announced this year's season of the Winter Workshops (PDF).
Doing a workshop was never in question. In just over six months of playing, I've only been to one formal lesson, and that one lesson probably trebled my range of skills. The opportunity to learn some more without the expense of private tuition is something I've been absolutely gasping for.
No, the question was which workshop to enrol for, as they're running two series this year - a beginner and an intermediate series. The beginner series sounds like it's for total beginners, starting out with how to tune a uke. It runs for five one-hour sessions. The intermediate series is closer to my level - it covers a few topics with which I'm already somewhat familiar (finger picking, bar chords) and a few I really want to learn about (triple strum, improvising). They plan to cover all this in only three one-hour sessions.
The pre-req for the intermediate workshop series is to "be able to play at least six chords (including E), and..." - but the rest doesn't matter, because I can't finger a fricking E chord to save my life. (I don't seriously believe that it's possible for normal human beings to finger an E chord. These people who can do it, they must sacrifice every night to the God of the E Chord or something.)
As I've never played in a group, have no musical background, have not been playing long, and don't quite meet the intermediate pre-reqs, I have therefore registered for the beginner workshop series, starting July 25. Five sessions rather than three means that much extra practice and time with other players. There's certain to be plenty there that I don't already know; hopefully the extreme basics won't take too long to cover. And maybe I can persuade one of the tutors to just show me that triple strum on the quiet.
Aside: my hobbies fund (which I may as well rename to "ukulele fund", cos that's all it gets used for) has never yet made it into the black since I started work.
Ten days ago my original, little, red, plastic ukulele turned six months old. To celebrate I got it out and played a few of the first tunes I learned on it (Pokarekare Ana, Hoki Mai, It's A Heartache). It was heavy, hard to balance in my hands, required tonnes of pressure on the strings to avoid buzzing, sounded muted and distorted, and went out of tune every few minutes. After briefly celebrating its birthday I was incredibly glad to return to my beautiful new Stagg concert.
I've had the Stagg for one month and five days now. It's wonderful to play a proper wooden instrument that has some sustain and resonates cleanly, with nice tight pegs so that tuning is more than just an exercise in frustration. It's wonderful to be able to balance its small weight with almost no tension in my fretting hand, and it's wonderful to have so much soundboard under my right forearm, so I can play standing up without the instrument slipping down my front all the time.
Notwithstanding all the wonderfulness, I have had to adapt to the larger concert instrument after learning for five months on a soprano. The adjustment has been trickier than I was expecting; the instrument isn't that much bigger, but surprisingly requires quite a bit more precision in chord fingering. The fretboard seems to be wider (I haven't actually compared them directly), and it's easier to just barely slip off the string and come up with a muted sound. The finer frets, as well as making it possible to use a lot less finger pressure, also demand more in terms of accurate finger placement. No longer can I just slug my finger in there anywhere between one fret and the next; it's got to be very close to halfway or I get that unholy buzzing sound.
The adjustment has been good for me, cos it's forced me to learn more precise habits. Things which are good for you... aren't always fun. I feel like I've achieved little in the past month; just this week I seem to be making progress again. My B♭ chord now comes out right more often than wrong, and I'm getting better at applying constant pressure throughout a bar rather than pre-emptively loosening my grip ahead of a chord change. (This isn't a problem when strumming because the Stagg has enough sustain to disguise the fact that I've effectively lifted my fingers. When fingerpicking, however, this habit is disastrous - you get awful muted notes at the end of each bar.)
I miss the soprano size in ways unrelated to the simple physical difficulty of the switch. The soprano uke is a gorgeous little instrument with its own unique sound, and I'd really like to own another at some point. (I mean, a proper wooden one. You know.) Also, sometimes it feels like the sound of my Stagg is almost too clean and bright - almost a little bit nasal. My next uke, I hope, will sound more round and mellow. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get this in a soprano.
Not that I have any intention of replacing my Stagg - no, not replacing... merely supplementing. Clearly I am already in the grip of Ukulele Acquisition Syndrome, a terrible affliction arising from the relative cheapness of quality ukes. A guitar collection is a vastly expensive and decadent thing to have; a uke collection, depending on composition, is probably worth roughly one nice guitar. Win!
