28 March, 2025
Beautiful sounds: zen mind
23 March, 2025
#booksIlove: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
When I first read it: when it first came out in 2008
22 March, 2025
Beautiful sounds: monastery
18 March, 2025
I am… rather spectacular.
Yet, in reflecting on past deeds and misdeeds, moments of tribulation, flights on the wings of dreams, and, above all, the unwavering belief that my life is blessed—I raise a glass to my younger self.
Thank you for getting me here, alight with wonder and curiosity.
14 March, 2025
Space Weather (2/2)
Photo by Chinh Le Duc on Unsplash
When my daughter and I were discussing the marvels of space weather, we
were sitting in one of her favourite cafés. Across from our table hung a
striking picture of a whale suspended in the dark ocean depths.
As we talked, I couldn’t help but draw parallels between the mysteries
of space and the vast, shadowy depths of the ocean. If you’ve ever seen whales
in their natural habitat, you might understand the sense of awe they inspire.
Their sheer size, intelligence, and grace make them seem almost otherworldly.
It’s easy to imagine them as aliens—beings entirely unique, unlike anything
else on Earth.
A whimsical thought crossed my mind: what if whales possess an innate
ability to detect space storms? Perhaps their minds act as transceivers for
infinite cosmic information. I toyed with the idea of writing a poem about a
whale speaking to the sun, but the words wouldn’t come. In the end, the thought
itself was beautiful enough to linger on.
Disclaimer: I don’t
actually believe whales are extraterrestrial—it was simply a fanciful flight of
imagination.
12 March, 2025
Space Weather (1/2)
From what I’ve learned, the technology currently available can only provide “nowcasts”—real-time assessments of solar activity. To improve this, space agencies are planning to position a satellite at Lagrange Point 5 near the sun. This satellite will detect solar bursts days earlier than current capabilities allow, enabling them to issue “forecasts” instead of just immediate warnings. This would give authorities and populations critical time to prepare for the effects of solar storms. Isn’t that incredible?
10 March, 2025
09 March, 2025
#booksIlove: The Name of the Rose
When I first read it: in 1983, when it came out in English
06 March, 2025
Sara: The Northern Star of My Life
As a child, you didn’t always choose the best friends (that is, except for Pia, of course). Not that they were bad people, but they weren’t always kind to you. I remember a conversation we had before you left for Edinburgh, when you told me you were going to take your time finding friends. That made me so happy, for right from the beginning, you’ve always believed that friendships were something forever.
Your friendship with Jonas exemplifies this. He bullied you in the early years of high school. Maybe it was competitiveness—he wanted to be Mr. Cool, and you were Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes. He teased you relentlessly, made up silly poems about you, and was even involved in some questionable incidents. The worst? Holding you around the neck and swinging you around.
The young Sara hated hated feet. You especially disliked seeing men exposing their bare feet in summertime. Yuck to men wearing flipflops! (Mind you, I agree with you on that one.) You thought feet ugly and completely useless. When asked how you would like people to look like, you thought we would be fine if we were all cut-off at the ankles.
Grenada sun shines so high
Time to play and read.
04 March, 2025
A chance encounter
Looking over to see what he was reading, I noticed both pages were filled with music scores for various instruments. He wasn't just reading—he was listening to a symphony on paper.
What a gift this must be, for markings on a page to ignite sounds in your brain. In an instant, this shabbily dressed individual transformed into an all-knowing maestro, directing the orchestra in his mind.
02 March, 2025
26 February, 2025
I am... a bookbinder
25 February, 2025
TR update: plodding along
While it may have seemed to me like not much has been done, summarizing the activities of the Talkshow Rivals project reveals a pretty long list:
- Amol finished the rough sketches for all the comics and gaming elements for PoC and the artistic concept.
- I created a final style guide for us to use.
- Amol completed colouring two panels for PoC.
- Elsa has started working on the backgrounds for PoC.
- Sarah G. and I have agreed to attend Gamescom in Cologne this August.
- I’ve started connecting with people in the gaming industry on LinkedIn.
- I developed a concept for Pet Paradise in the Lifestyle Shop.
- I’m working on a final version of a POC page.
A double dose of embarrassment
I was so nervous about showing up late for the first class that I ended up being the first person to arrive. Over the next ten minutes, a few women came in and sat near each other. They chatted in German about how they were doing and talked about the weather. As I listened in, it became very apparent that this class was not right for me.
First, the women seemed to know each other, which was intimidating. I didn't want to be the only stranger in the group. Secondly, their German sounded much better than mine. Still, I decided to wait for the class to start before making snap judgments.
The teacher entered, greeted us in German, and asked everyone to turn to page 23 in their exercise books. She was still speaking German at this point. Then, she began writing English sentences on the blackboard. Turning around, she asked, "What colour is your umbrella, Helga?" Helga responded with heavily accented English, "My umbrella is green."
Mortified, I sat frozen in my seat. It was evident that I had accidentally joined a beginner’s English class.
To make matters worse, I had chosen the seat farthest from the door, making it impossible to leave without causing a scene. I silently berated myself for my mistake while the teacher continued asking questions.
Eventually, it was my turn. "What colour is your sweater, Lia?" she asked. I stared back, unsure of what to do. Finally, I mumbled, "My sweater is red."
This awkward exchange repeated several times over the next 15 minutes. The other students began looking at me with growing concern. Gradually, the teacher increased the difficulty of her questions.
"When you go to the concert tonight, will you wear a bracelet or a necklace?" she asked.
"I will wear a necklace," I answered flatly.
The teacher paused and said, "Lia, maybe you should take a more advanced class. Your English seems very good."
Almost in tears, I blurted out, "I am English! I thought this was a beginner’s German class!"
The entire room burst into laughter.
"Oh no," the teacher chuckled. "The German class is across the hall in Room 9."
Ultimately, I experienced a double dose of embarrassment—first, having to leave the English class with everyone wondering why I hadn't spoken up sooner, and second, the horror of entering the correct classroom 20 minutes late, full of strangers.
18 February, 2025
Explore: The Art of Doing Nothing
So, I read articles and watched videos, but nothing resonated. Most recommendations for "doing nothing" seem to involve some form of meditation or mindfulness exercises.
Then, I stumbled upon this video. The Dutch have a word for intentionally doing nothing: niksen, or "nothing-ing." This verb means not engaging in anything productive or purposeful.
This concept gets closer to what I’m seeking but still doesn’t fully align with how I envision "the art of doing nothing."
The real question is whether I’m searching for "the art of" something or simply the experience of "doing nothing." The artist in me yearns to explore and create a new art form. What would the art of doing nothing feel like? How would those feelings be expressed? Would they emerge spontaneously, be choreographed, or perhaps take a ritualistic form?
Meanwhile, the engineer in me wants to understand what "doing nothing" truly means. I recall learning in quantum physics that the absence of matter creates a hole—an entity with its own distinct properties of emptiness. That realization was a highlight of my learning journey. So, what does "doing nothing" actually feel like?
17 February, 2025
14 February, 2025
The lunchtime conversation that changed my life
In my confusion, I turned to my father, Dave. He was busy running his telecommunications company, but when I asked him to meet me for lunch, he didn’t hesitate. I’d never made such a request before, so I imagine he knew it was serious. Over that lunch, I laid it all out: my decision to leave ballet, my uncertainty about the future, and my vague plan to study math.
His response wasn’t what I expected. He didn’t pity me or make me feel as though I’d wasted the last decade of my life. Instead, he reassured me that my years in ballet would someday serve me, even in ways I couldn’t yet see. But then he did something that caught me off guard: he challenged me.
“Why math?” he asked, his tone direct. “What will you do with it? End up in the long line of unemployed math teachers?”
It stung, but he wasn’t being cruel—just realistic. At first, I fumbled to explain. Math was the only thing I felt good at, the only thing I enjoyed. But he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Then he said something that would stay with me forever: “Instead of focusing on what you’re good at, why don’t you think about the kind of life you want to live?”
I sat back, stunned. It was such a simple question, but it opened a floodgate of thoughts and emotions. What kind of life did I want? I wanted freedom—freedom to choose my job, to live wherever I wanted, and to be judged on my skills, not my physical performance. I wanted to travel, to explore the world, to work with great people, and to do something meaningful.
Dave smiled knowingly as I poured this all out. Then he shared something about his own life. His career had given him those exact opportunities—to travel, to collaborate with talented people, and to shape his life the way he wanted. And then, in the same breath, he gave me a suggestion I never saw coming: “Why not try electrical engineering?”
Engineering? For a former ballet dancer, it felt absurd. But Dave laid it out logically. Engineering would challenge me, involve the math I loved, and—most importantly—open doors to the kind of life I wanted. It was a practical path to my dreams.
At the time, his advice felt revolutionary. Most people assumed I’d become a ballet teacher or take a "safe" job until marriage. But Dave saw something else for me. He saw potential, not limitations. He saw engineering not just as a career, but as a tool to create the life I envisioned.
That lunchtime conversation changed everything. It gave me clarity and direction, but more than that, it gave me permission to dream. I went on to study engineering, and while the path wasn’t always easy, it gave me the freedom and opportunities I’d once only imagined.
Looking back, I realize how rare and precious Dave’s advice was. He didn’t give me a map or a checklist—he gave me a framework for thinking about my life. Start with the life you want to live. Then figure out how to make it happen.
To this day, that advice guides me. And for that one lunchtime conversation, I’ll always be grateful.
13 February, 2025
Explore: talking to plants
Her advice to "talk to your plants" falls on deaf ears, no matter how often she gently reminds me. I was raised to believe that talking to yourself was a clear sign of mental instability. When Dave chatted with the lizard by the sink, I blamed it on loneliness—but plants? The idea of murmuring sweet nothings to houseplants triggers a firm "hell no" from me.
Instead, I've decided to explore other ways to make our plants happy. Here's what I'll try: every day, I'll take a close look at the plants to observe which leaves are growing and which are dying. Next, I'll do a bit of garden care—checking how moist the soil is. If this makes them perkier, I might even consider repotting them. And if that works, who knows? Maybe I'll start whispering to the ficus after all.
09 February, 2025
#booksIlove: Furies: Stories of the Wicked, Wild, and Untamed
When I read it for the first time: 2025
Pat was excited that Viagra Press were publishing books by Elizabethan and Victorian female authors. Two examples of these authors are Mary Webb (Precious Bane) and Elizabeth von Arnim (The Solitary Summer). Although Pat really did not have much patience with feminism, she delighted in reading the works of women who were ahead of their years, such as Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters, and even the books of Beatrix Potter, which were some of the first books on our shelves as children. She also appreciated visionary and, dare I say, militant authors like Virginia Woolf and George Sands.
Later, Pat expanded her reading to include authors such as Mavis Gallant, Iris Murdoch and Jane Gardam.
This is a long way of saying that the book Furies: Stories of the Wicked, Wild, and Untamed would have delighted her. She probably would have sniffed at the subtitle, "Feminist Tales from 16 Bestselling, Award-Winning Writers," but undoubtedly, she would have called it "a good read"—high praise from her indeed.
Sara gifted this book to me for Christmas. Initially, I devoured the short stories with a voracious appetite. Thankfully, I decided to slow down and luxuriate in the stories, the perspectives, the characters, and most of all, the beautiful use of language.
For all aspiring or steadfast feminists, read these tales and rejoice. For those who are disinterested or dismissive of feminism, get over it and let yourself be entertained.