tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34284140850168218882024-02-20T04:20:33.937+00:00Life in RhymeKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-32667945841677259182011-01-17T23:33:00.004+00:002011-01-17T23:56:00.693+00:00A Saturday Meeting. In Chinese.<em>No, not dead yet, just crazy busy writing my thesis. And then I get interrupted to go into college on a Saturday as some Chinese sponsors are coming to visit. Chinese sponsors who don't speak English, which makes my attendance a waste of time of chocolate teapotish proportions.</em><br /><em></em><br />The meeting was taking place all in Chinese<br />The English girl agonised "just help me, please!<br />I'm now suicidally, desperately bored<br />I need a white knight with bright armour and sword.<br />A rescuing hero to help this fair maid<br />To storm this interminable meeting, invade<br />And take me away for adventures unique<br />In a world filled with magic, exciting mystique"<br /><br />Just then there flashed lightning which blinded their eyes<br />The meeting erupted to panic and cries<br />The speaker now paused to ask "what's going on?<br />Quite where has this terrible light show come from?"<br />It seemed someone answered our heroine's prayer<br />To disrupt the talks and remove her from there<br />But after the delegates regained their sight<br />Presentations continued and on went her plight.<br /><br />The scientists wittered in jargonish speak<br />Still mumbling in Chinese (or possibly Greek)<br />Our girl still presented a keen outward face<br />While silently begging to leave that grim place.<br />Then out rang a shot, all was chaos once more<br />And as all others ducked our girl turned to the door<br />But instead of her hero in armour so bright<br />Loomed a villainous creature in black dark as night.<br /><br />"I'm sorry my angel," he said with a sneer,<br />"You're knight's battled monsters quite fierce to get here<br />But thanks to my tricks he'll arrive much too late<br />Instead it's in my hands that now rests your fate.<br />The lightning which earlier made the room shake<br />Was caused as he fought into this world too break<br />But I'm by far better at magic, you see<br />So I was the victor, now you'll come with me."<br /><br />Surprisingly, though, she was hardly dismayed<br />Her total demeanour was calm, unafraid<br />"If you've come for me I'll go with you right now<br />I'm desperate to leave here and not fussy how.<br />Whoever you are you'll remove me from here<br />Remaining behind is my heart's darkest fear.<br />Wherever you take me [here granting a kiss]<br />My hero, your world must be better than this."Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-4988678958831475182010-10-04T11:39:00.001+01:002010-10-04T11:40:40.807+01:00London Tube StrikeAs each side the other condemns<br />We're tired of "it's not us it's them"s<br />To make London go<br />Let's lock up Bob Crow<br />And chuck Boris into the ThamesKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-28798741808630122012010-09-15T11:00:00.001+01:002010-09-15T11:02:58.769+01:003WW: MTV AttireWhen aiming to join pop’s elite<br />Avoid gowns demure and discrete<br />But rather offend<br />Those of volatile trend<br />By sporting a frock formed of meat<br /><br /><em><a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/">3WW:demure, offend, volatile </a></em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-17928249415856407892010-09-12T00:40:00.007+01:002010-09-12T01:06:13.618+01:00Lost in Translation 2: Mildly AstrayFollowing from my last post, while I'm blogging about Chinese/English mistranslations, I might as well post this photo I took of a notice in the hotel where I stayed in Beijing.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515806596006586434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 301px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofmRLm5epS-fVrb5GvSUUMpM3x_V3Ii2hPgLUUHJcMa5NxYb8msoQNXa00xXkM3lQGiJ_ZxF5zYwdBDwquXNL9P5yej9pmhHMp3PPryqmnIrMoGUMiCI70CIee66i9OYgxRjkkTGBgbbQ/s400/HPIM0941.JPG" border="0" /><br />Sometimes, you just don't want to know the reason...Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-29255534390589837132010-09-03T13:56:00.004+01:002010-09-12T01:04:32.861+01:00Lost in Translation<em>So, my supervisor took my whole research group out for a drink in the Student's Union. Talking to him in a noisy setting can be an ordeal, as he's Chinese and his accent is quite strong. Cue a very stilted conversation, and then this happened...</em><br /><br />Him: So what’s different now you’re living with your parents again?<br />Me: Well, I don’t get to do as much cooking as I used to. It’s a shame, I really enjoy it.<br />Him: What?!<br />Me: Yes, but now my mother does far more than I do.<br />Him: Your mother? Well. Wow. I’m shocked. Really?<br />Me: Oh yes.<br />Him: And is it a common thing to do in England?<br />Me: Yes, of course, though not as much as it used to be. And I expect it is in China as well, surely? I take it you don’t do much yourself?<br />Him: [Splutters into beer]<br />Me: [Aware there's been a language issue, but not sure where it happened so struggling on] Does your wife cook instead? Does she tend to make Chinese food or more Western dishes?<br />Him: Cook? Cooking? Wait, you’re talking about cooking? As in, with food?<br />Me: Well, yes, isn’t that what we were discussing?<br />Him: Oh. Oh, I see. Yes, that makes more sense.<br />Me: So, what did you think we were talking about?<br />Him: Ah, well, you see, when you said cooking, I thought you said cocaine.Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-18916214645164918282010-08-15T21:55:00.002+01:002010-08-15T21:57:56.850+01:00Sunday Scribblings: ViewOn a glorious day at <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corfe_Castle,_Dorset">Corfe Castle</a><br />We set out to the hills for a hike<br />When through all of the touristic bustle<br />Came a butterfly riding a bike<br /><br />(In the works of mythologic masters<br />Think of Titian or Watts or Van Dyke<br />Is there such a surreal disaster<br />As a butterfly riding a bike?)<br /><br />So we walked with all Purbeck before us<br />To the cliffs where the waves pound and strike<br />And the breakers themselves beat a chorus<br />Of a butterfly riding a bike<br /><br />Now in Dorset pubs often they mutter<br />Of the legend all swear by alike<br />Maybe one day you too will hear flutters<br />Of that butterfly riding her bikeKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-43690222226297060742010-08-14T12:35:00.002+01:002010-08-14T13:57:40.671+01:00The Ballad of the Dispirited Research StudentThere was a girl who lost the will<br />Her research work to do<br />Although she had the brains and skill<br />Her apathy just grew<br /><br />Deep down she loved her project<br />The science in her bones<br />Ideas and problems to connect<br />Find truths about unknowns<br /><br />There was a time when she would sell<br />Her soul to get this break<br />But now her dream has turned to hell<br />It's all a big mistake<br /><br />It matters not how hard she tried<br />She can't debug her code<br />Her confidence, morale and pride<br />Continue to erode<br /><br />She seems to achieve less each day<br />She's tired all the time<br />Her thesis stress won't go away<br />There's such a hill to climb<br /><br />A mountain that she still must scale<br />It's peak still lost in mist<br />Her futile efforts can't prevail<br />No reason to persist<br /><br />The funding deadline's just a joke<br />She's human after all<br />But missing it would leave her broke<br />Finances at a stall<br /><br />And as she hates to ask for aid<br />Her problems just get worse<br />But all her troubles she'll evade<br />By writing foolish verseKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-14704113845556924002010-07-14T22:01:00.003+01:002010-07-14T22:11:55.260+01:00Eluded by the MuseA new blogger's ultimate goal<br />Is to write posts with talent and soul<br />But her hopes go astray<br />And she's sorry to say<br />That she's stuck in a limerick-shaped hole.<br /><br />And her writer's block just seems to worsen<br />For while she sits angry and cursin'<br />She wastes all her time<br />On amphibrach rhyme<br />And refers to herself in third person.<br /><br /><em>Hmmm... maybe it's <a href="http://planet-kitty.blogspot.com/2009/12/first-musings.html">all my own fault</a>.</em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-80893030726329700002010-06-24T17:07:00.004+01:002010-06-24T17:13:00.060+01:00Meetings<em>Gosh, it's been a long time since I last posted. Lots of reasons for that, none interesting. I've been to a couple of important meeings lately, and in the boring ones came up with some limericks</em><br /><em></em><br />For the delegates now we are waiting<br />And stress levels rise unabating<br />Prepeations are through<br />Now there's nothing to do<br />But sit here just procrastinating.<br /><br />The talks are all thoughtful and deep<br />Intuition to make Einstein weep<br />The guy I can see<br />Just in front of me<br />Is so thrilled he's fallen asleep.<br /><em></em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-20049679577460228342010-05-16T12:37:00.002+01:002010-05-16T12:41:43.742+01:00Cookies<em>Sunday Scribblings: Recipe</em><br /><br />The first step’s the same in all cultures and lands<br />When cooking, to start with, you must wash your hands<br />Then preheat the oven to one-eighty C<br />(If gas is your thing then mark 4 it should be)<br />Two baking sheets needed, or one if it’s large<br />Just grease up the tins with some butter or marg<br />Then once you’ve completed this basic routine<br />Next weigh out 6 ounces of soft margarine<br />The same weight of sugar, a brown one not white,<br />Then cream them together til fluffy and light<br />The mixture at this point is yummy to eat<br />Just fat mixed with sugar, so soft and so sweet<br />Then into this fusion an egg you should whisk<br />(Don’t taste it hereafter as <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/get_cooking/cooks_guide/eggs.shtml">raw egg’s a risk</a>)<br />Cue self-raising flour, 6 ounces you add<br />This mix now needs flavour, it’s time to go mad<br />If you can imagine it, try it and see<br />Try essence- vanilla or almond maybe<br />Think <a href="http://www.scotchwhisky.net/malt/glenturret.htm">whisky</a> or brandy, yes, just a wee dram<br />Or chunks of plain chocolate, use one hundred grams<br />Perhaps you want walnuts, or coconut shred<br />Or subtract some flour, use cocoa instead<br />Some people find currants and raisins ideal<br />With orange or lemon, the juice and the peel<br />Whatever concoction your mind can invent<br />There’s some combinations are true heaven sent<br />(And if there are some that you really screw up<br />Then those are the ones you can <a href="http://www.rspca.org.uk/allaboutanimals/pets/dogs/diet">feed to the pup</a>)<br />Now once you have added the things you prefer<br />Then take up your spoon, give it all a good stir<br />Place spoonfuls of mixture upon your greased tins<br />And bake in the oven for just 15 mins<br />If golden, remove them to cool, and you’ve made<br />Confections to leave shop-bought cakes in the shade<br />And others will praise them to highest degree<br />Though you’ll know they’re easy as easy can beKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-90183034457969706212010-05-02T16:59:00.001+01:002010-05-02T18:30:33.692+01:00An Important SundayThe streets are all empty of cars<br />The church pews today are deserted<br />The people are packed into bars<br />Emergency crews all alerted<br /><br />What business can cause such a fuss?<br />What issue obsseses the nation?<br />The question on all lips is thus:<br /><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/eng_div_1/8646785.stm">Can Palace avoid relegation?</a><br /><br /><br /><em>Written this morning, before the match, but posted afterwards. A very exciting game ended in a 2-2 draw, which was all Crystal Palace needed to avoid relegation. Now all we need is a new owner...</em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-26467899183553341582010-05-01T20:29:00.002+01:002010-05-01T20:48:42.236+01:00Emily Bronte Cento<em>A cento is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cento_(poetry)">patchwork poem</a>, in this one every line is from a different poem by Emily Bronte.</em><br /><em></em><br />Warm and bright on Arden’s lake<br />How beautiful the earth is still<br />Tonight there is no wind to wake<br />And curb my own wild will<br /><br />Thought followed though, star followed star<br />I see Heaven’s glories shine<br />It seemed close by and yet more far<br />And they, perchance, heard vows of mine<br /><br />Well, let them fight for honour’s breath<br />Thy love I will not, will not share<br />Time stands before the door of Death<br />To banish joy and welcome care<br /><br />In life and death a chainless soul<br />But sorrow withers even the strong<br />A flood of strange sensations roll<br />Whispering, “Winter will not linger long”Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-76890260391182044012010-04-12T15:53:00.001+01:002010-04-12T15:53:53.799+01:00Leaving HomeToday’s the day I’m moving out<br />from home. From old, I’ll move away<br />to freedom, so stand tall and shout:<br />Today’s the day<br /><br />Although not meaning to betray<br />the memories of good times, no doubt<br />I’m sad to leave, but still won’t stay<br /><br />The future’s readying to sprout<br />new wings and I’m keen to survey<br />fate, seizing what it’s all about:<br />Today’s the dayKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-76668165481816732802010-04-08T11:35:00.002+01:002010-04-08T11:39:39.709+01:00Spring SunshineFor the first time in far too long<br />The sun beams in the sky<br />And though its warmth is still not strong<br />My heart wants to reply<br /><br />I know its time is fitful still<br />A prisoner on parole<br />And yet it starts to thaw the chill<br />Brings sunshine to my soulKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-48266462957005515302010-04-07T15:56:00.008+01:002010-04-08T11:40:30.054+01:00On the Election<em>a.k.a. Temptation to hibernate til May</em><br /><br />The identified date’s <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/election_2010/8603591.stm">been corroborated</a><br />And the <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/election-2010/7563718/General-Election-2010-Gordon-Brown-promises-fixed-term-Parliaments.html">media’s</a> <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/general-election-2010">utterly</a> <a href="http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/politics/">saturated<br /></a>But from <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/thereporters/markeaston/2010/04/a_guttenplan_for_britain.html">vague</a>, trite debate<br />Will not one deviate<br />So apathy reigns unadulterated<br /><br /><em><a href="http://www.threewordwednesday.com/">3WW</a>: deviate identify saturate</em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-72339548121195219592010-04-01T16:44:00.002+01:002010-04-01T16:48:05.911+01:00The ballad of ... dammit, please don't sue meNow <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/8598472.stm">here’s a tale </a>to make you sweat<br />Which as you sleep may nightmares bring<br />A drama you won’t soon forget<br />The trial of Dr Simon Singh<br /><br />A man who stood his beliefs<br />Who for science and reason fought<br />And for those views he came to grief<br />At the mercy of the libel court<br /><br />As he researched his latest work<br />On chiropractor’s health careers<br />He found diverse, unproven quirks<br />And some claimed quite bizarre ideas<br /><br />(If your kids suffer chronic ills<br />Like earache or asthma attack<br />Forget those nasty drugs and pills<br />It’s helped by massaging their back?)<br /><br />And so he wrote of what he found<br />In order to start free debate<br />Discussion based on data sound<br />To reason and deliberate<br /><br />But when this reached the BCA<br />Instead of defending with grace<br />They found a way to make him pay<br />And hit him with a libel case<br /><br />The High Court Judgment then decreed<br />His written statements were of fact<br />He would need firm proof to succeed<br />This ruling had a huge impact<br /><br />A verdict that would stifle speech<br />Allowing quacks to ply their trade<br />It limits open debate’s reach<br />No chance to argue, weigh, persuade<br /><br />And though that’s now been overturned<br />(A task which cost 200k)<br />The lessons have not yet been learned<br />The law on critics still can prey<br /><br />If libel laws are still so strict<br />To stifle science in it’s tracks<br />And don’t allow reasoned conflict<br />Well, surely then, that law still lacks?<br /><br />But while there are before the court<br />More cases lined up, in a string<br />This verdict gives them some support:<br />The victory of Simon SinghKittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-39514096863729832542010-03-31T17:06:00.001+01:002010-08-15T22:00:19.940+01:00MonsterThe monster rose up from the crypt<br />A creature straight from horror tales<br />From fangs, the caustic venom dripped<br />It plates its great hunched frame with scales<br />The slashing tail swung and whipped<br />And vicious talons stood for nails<br />Escaping from deep underground<br />It terrorized all those around<br /><br />To save from being killed and maimed<br />The people chose to pay the price<br />That demon for their safety claimed<br />Which was a human sacrifice<br />No other way it could be tamed<br />(Forgive the hackneyed plot device)<br />It taxed them, to their great despair<br />The price of one young maiden, fair.<br /><br />The girl they chose for this was smart<br />Could knit and crochet, sew and darn.<br />She prised the monster’s scales apart<br />She stabbed, without a hint to warn,<br />Her knitting needle in its heart.<br />So here’s the message of my yarn:<br />(Though clear to those with any wits)<br />You NEVER mess with <a href="http://planet-kitty.blogspot.com/2010/02/to-woman-beside-me-on-train.html">girls who knit.</a><br /><br /><em><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2010/03/31/3ww-clxxxiii/">3WW</a>: Sacrifice, caustic, hunch</em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-16722477226016876792010-03-30T14:04:00.003+01:002010-04-08T11:41:06.517+01:00Swan Lake<em>Going to see Carlos Acosta in Ballet Nacional De Cuba's Swan Lake at the London Coliseum tonight. Very excited.</em><br /><em></em><br />A young prince's heart is entwined<br />With a princess in swan's form confined<br />But he worsens her plight<br />Mistakes black swan for white<br />Now that's what you call colour blind.Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-83363619100761594062010-03-24T14:00:00.002+00:002010-03-24T14:03:00.800+00:003WW: Writers BlockNow, regarding the prompt words, I have to say frankly<br />Though I hunger for ideas my mind loiters blankly<br />And I’ve really no way to try solving the puzzle<br />Of a sensible reason to use the verb “nuzzle”<br />So I’ve brazened it out, I’m now anxiously waiting<br />For next week’s muse – hope she’s more accommodating<br /><br /><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2010/03/24/3ww-clxxxii/#comments">3WW: Brazen, Hunger, Nuzzle</a>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-13397569205234010542010-03-21T18:38:00.003+00:002010-08-15T22:00:53.873+01:00The Alcoholic<div align="center">The greatest star in all the land<br />A huge celeb, so famed and grand<br />He’s coming to our town, it’s said<br />The luminary named “Big Ted”<br /><br />So what demands does he decree?<br />What satisfies this VIP?<br />Fine caviar and coats of mink<br />But most of all, our Ted wants drink<br /><br />Ten bottles of top French champagne<br />And best Rioja straight from Spain<br />Tequila with fresh limes and salt </div><div align="center">Plus Scottish whisky, single malt<br /><br />The moment for his act draws near<br />They’re waiting for him to appear<br />The girls are screaming “where’s our hunk?”<br />He’s passed out on the bed, dead drunk</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451159766333201810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_KWYlom97jZSGe3Bue-jhBFLAnTlIyZQVbFPknPExL8fbRgQK3zHZC6XqnNxO5PpARrZMum11yWgJWmKkMY02hWW8__pVSJg-2iR5GmgckCGe0hv4UPieK5YOyjDYGj3Mb7Mg2RcK3c5Z/s400/DSC00705.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p><em><a href="http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/">Sunday Scribblings</a>: Demands</em></p>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-9223087308120698312010-03-18T15:44:00.000+00:002010-03-18T15:46:03.156+00:00Some people are only happy when they're not...So now spring has sprung and it’s fab,<br />Am I just an ungrateful crab<br />If, melting, I say<br />I wish there’s a way<br />To TURN OFF the heat in my lab?Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-17155581987505292502010-03-17T22:37:00.003+00:002010-08-15T22:03:53.330+01:00The Pigeon<em>With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe...</em><br /><br />One night I studied, weak and weary, over tomes of quantum theory<br />Trying to decipher what it meant for physics’s laws<br />While a migraine starting stinging, all at once I heard a pinging<br />As of someone gently ringing, ringing at my flat’s front door<br />“’Tis some drunken fool,” I muttered, “Ringing at my flat’s front door<br />Only this and nothing more”<br /><br />No clue what was to befall me, how those ideas could enthral me<br />The breakthroughs and the struggles of researchers gone before<br />As I sat absorbed in reading, concepts through my head were speeding<br />Brain on crazy theories feeding, feeding on Einstein and Bohr<br />Avidly digesting works of Einstein, Planck and Bohr<br />Craving to learn even more<br /><br />While my pulse beat ever faster, apprehending much disaster<br />Through the spell there rang the bell again of my front door<br />Like a shard cut through my dreaming, through the notions and the scheming<br />Twisting through my mind and streaming, streaming with chaotic roar<br />Over the confused abstractions crying with chaotic roar<br />Loud the doorbell rang once more<br /><br />When at last my door I’d unlocked, when the entrance hall I’d unblocked<br />What a bizarre creature landed on my parquet floor<br />Serious as true religion, feathers ruffled up a smidgeon<br />Into my flat there flew a pigeon, pigeon with much filth and gore<br />Ugly as a gargoyle’s mother, stinking of trash cans and gore<br />Difficult, that, to ignore<br /><br />Once that bird had found a free perch then my mind returned to research<br />To the world of physics I was longing to explore<br />“Now this obsession hath befell me, an addiction to enspell me,<br />bird, I ask you, won’t you tell me, tell me pigeon I implore:<br />How long will last this compulsion? Tell me pigeon, I implore”<br />Quoth the pigeon, “Evermore.”<br /><br />“Though I know that it’s imprudent, I shall become a grad student<br />A creature that the working world doth distain and abhor<br />Though it fills me with misgiving that is how I’ll earn my living,<br />From the research unforgiving, unforgiving and paid poor<br />Bird, how long shall I be overworked and far too poor?”<br />Quoth the pigeon “Evermore”<br /><br />So here I sit at my computer hiding from my college tutor<br />Trying to do research cutting edge and quite hardcore<br />Trying not to waste time moping, looking for new ways of coping<br />And forever I’ll be hoping, hoping that the end’s in store<br />Hoping that a PhD at last's what lies in store<br />Else I’ll be here evermore.<br /><br /><em><a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/3ww-clxxxi/#comments">3WW: shard, pulse, weary</a></em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-48648412332083882922010-03-14T16:44:00.009+00:002010-03-14T17:41:28.801+00:00Sunday Scribblings: The book that changed everything<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiydErmVUASNck1El_AHWOtWhyphenhyphenCU_5HrV3_nNg33aNxEPuULNr0bC8Dr6JNMj04mcDIdR1nolUxI2j6TC-dqlCjH4URtQNxMuLmRapN414tqedg1L-WkgeC3nh6riuozYKTf9qTI4xNIt0t/s1600-h/HPIM0819.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448544684383564482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiydErmVUASNck1El_AHWOtWhyphenhyphenCU_5HrV3_nNg33aNxEPuULNr0bC8Dr6JNMj04mcDIdR1nolUxI2j6TC-dqlCjH4URtQNxMuLmRapN414tqedg1L-WkgeC3nh6riuozYKTf9qTI4xNIt0t/s320/HPIM0819.JPG" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4V-KPqVY4eph8d4rs51W2cLU0gHeeeufMEmC5n6wSHWewoCy5BLEz5_Vec76AoVYdaovDxMHm0SQVk-G_P37KZyGuyE4sk7Nil2-FsNKbBvrXiKPrvgkbFPi-oTc9VVtG_hTZh3vJYm6h/s1600-h/HPIM0819.JPG"></a>It was the strangest place to find a book. In fact, it was the strangest place on earth simply to wake up in the morning, a plush, five-star business hotel by a lake in the middle of the Chinese countryside. Its whole purpose was the hosting of conferences and isolated retreats, and the shabby little town that had sprung up next to it was purely to house workers for the sprawling, decadent palace of a hotel. As a new postgrad, I'd thought myself lucky to be invited to a meeting in such an unusual setting, and to be able to travel so far from home, but was beginning to feel like a fish out of water.<br /><br />There was nothing to read. I was sick to death of research papers with more equations than writing, but they were the only things in a language I understood. The town had no bookstore, almost no shops at all. And then I found it. Tucked away in a corner, apparently abandoned by some previous guest, hidden from the cleaners like some forbidden political treatise.<br /><br />“<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ode-Less-Travelled-Unlocking-within/dp/0099509342/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1268586010&sr=1-8">The Ode Less Travelled</a>” by <a href="http://www.stephenfry.com/">Stephen Fry</a>. Guiltily, feeling like some dissident rebel, I tucked it into my bag to read on the plane.<br /><br />Right from the start, I was hooked. The clear passion of the author for poetry, the encouragement to write, to not be afraid, to not mind the quality of the result, but to revel in the fun of putting pen to paper. And the introduction to technique – despite years of English lessons at school I'd never even <em>heard</em> of metre before. I'd always struggled so much when being presented with a blank page, and here finally was some help.<br /><div><blockquote><p align="justify">"However well or badly we were taught English literature, how many of us have ever been shown how to write our own poems? </p><p align="justify">'Don't worry, it doesn't have to rhyme. Don't bother with metre and verses. Just express yourself. Pour out your feelings'.</p><p align="justify">Suppose you had never played the piano in your life.</p><p align="justify">'Don't worry, Just lift the lid and <em>express yourself</em>. Pour out your feelings'.</p><p align="justify">We have all heard children do just that and we have all wanted to treat them with great violence as a result."<br /></p></blockquote><div align="justify">There wasn't time on the short flight from Kunming to Hong Kong to read the whole book, let alone attempt any of the exercises. But jus<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB5cajFtifftD19dw9Sf4cKYXKMz1NOA6eEJuCF3dlZstWIhOh6cmepf6dDAdP7H4tiHVwUwLOfIHlMAn1muYMDrn3ch6_dIP7fPCT2OOnzeKlqcBZti6RA4ysF_2V9ITSEd5OpU6cJdQ/s1600-h/HK&China+012.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448542017201507746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinB5cajFtifftD19dw9Sf4cKYXKMz1NOA6eEJuCF3dlZstWIhOh6cmepf6dDAdP7H4tiHVwUwLOfIHlMAn1muYMDrn3ch6_dIP7fPCT2OOnzeKlqcBZti6RA4ysF_2V9ITSEd5OpU6cJdQ/s320/HK&China+012.jpg" /></a>t dipping into it put a whole load of ideas into my head.<br /><br />I'd organised a few days holiday in Hong Kong, a respite after the intellectual rigours of the conference. So the next day, sitting in a park in Kowloon, with flamingos in the foreground, skyscrapers behind, I took out my travel journal. And instead of writing “I see flamingos and skyscrapers, what a strange combination”, I thought for a moment and began.<br /><br />“There once was a bird called Domingo...”<br /><br />My notebooks and journals have been filled with poetry in the two years since that trip to China. Now I'm even inflicting it on others, through the blog. Whether the results are any better than the plain old prose I used to produce, I can't say. But it's a hell of a lot more fun to write. </div></div></div>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-63679941793265780642010-03-10T17:18:00.003+00:002010-03-10T17:28:02.961+00:003WW: The kitten's story<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETV4Ke9eoVl4gcy8c8AsDcNFn1T0p50mv9ETHf1SG4lLUocHDP7rCvIOl7T5EBeSZ4uCM4sojCjsVhXs49IdCepAgbRAdaYzSuQMuBTGLCeG37ZfjpDmxoiAkE8-jH1K3fSWOgvqjSpHt/s1600-h/149.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447056118941709282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjETV4Ke9eoVl4gcy8c8AsDcNFn1T0p50mv9ETHf1SG4lLUocHDP7rCvIOl7T5EBeSZ4uCM4sojCjsVhXs49IdCepAgbRAdaYzSuQMuBTGLCeG37ZfjpDmxoiAkE8-jH1K3fSWOgvqjSpHt/s400/149.JPG" /></a> By day she hides behind a mask<br />A veil of domesticity<br />And modifies her every task<br />To conceal her duplicity<br /><br />By night, this image she'll reject<br />Prowls out to fuel her hunter's thirst<br />Docility's a <em>dog's</em> defect<br />Obedient? Never! Tame? Death first!<br /><br /><br /><em>The <a href="http://threewordwednesday.wordpress.com/2010/03/10/3ww-clxxx/">3WW words </a>are modify, obedient and veil</em>Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3428414085016821888.post-9024879584677467082010-03-05T16:16:00.001+00:002010-03-05T16:18:27.912+00:00Crossword clueI liked this clue on today's crossword so much that it gets its own blog post.<br /><br />"Cloth that crossed bridge?"<br /><br />Five letters, starting with "T".Kittyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07005574507327435800noreply@blogger.com0