End of an Era

I am ditching this blog.

I've moved to Wordpress:-

http://uniqueschmuck.wordpress.com/

So, come visit me there, update your links and adios Blogger.

Requiem for an Olympus C750

En route to the UK, my partner and I paused in Borneo to climb Mt Kinabalu - South East Asia's highest mountain. We were in Malaysia in the wet season. And boy, was it wet. We traipsed about Kota Kinabalu in the lovely drizzle. The drizzle is warm in South East Asia. It's near the equator after all. The UK drizzle is, at the moment, cold. It is hard to describe as 'lovely'. Matter of fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and call UK drizzle downright miserable. But I digress. Kota Kinabalun drizzle was a relief from the excessive heat and humidity. It sizzled off our hot skin.

The start of our ascent of Mt Kinabalu was from a tourist resort at approximately 1500 metres. When we arrived, the rainforest drizzle was more of a downpour. We were overnighting at this tourist resort and then starting our ascent the following morning. I had our lovely Olympus camera, a hand-me-down from my sister, which I bore much affection for (the camera, that is; well, I bear affection for my sister too, but that's de rigeur). It was encased in a Crumpler Sporty Guy 0.6 (can't find a picture of it on the interwebs, but it pretty much looks like this). I do not think that I have waxed lyrical about Crumplers on this blog before, so here I go.

I love Crumpler bags. Let's get that out of the way first. I am not objective. Their advertising is silly (at least it is in Australia) and it was a company started by two Geelong cyclists. They have adorable names for their bags, such as The Wonder Weenie (no longer being made), The Seedy Three (their original) and the Barney Rustle (an updated version of the Wonder Weenie and which is my everyday bag). Their logo is a stick man with wild hair. Their bags are made out of what they call 'Chicken-tex'. It is waterproof. Their bags - or at least the Barney Rustler - is waterproof inside and out.

I know this because, a while ago now, I put a 600ml bottle of water into my Barney Rustler without properly securing the lid and all the water came out. At the time, I was on the bus, heading into the city. I only discovered the water when my phone rang and I tried to locate my phone. I put my hand into what felt like a sink full of water. Withdrawing my hand in surprise, I began to quickly extract the usual contents of any bag I carry - wallet, keys, novel (oh oh), diary, phone (still ringing), miscellaneous receipts, pens, highlighters, water bottle (now mostly empty, usually full) - scattering them all over the seat beside me. As we were pulling into a stop, I leapt out of my seat and ran to the exit door calling out to driver, "Please wait!" (thereby attracting the attention of everyone who had not already watched me whipping random items out of my bag) and decanted the water in a slosh onto the road. My bag was only wet on the inside. No water had seeped outside. And if I had wanted to, I could have saved that water. That's how waterproof the Barney Rustler bag is. I got bemused stares and a few smiles from my fellow commuters as I returned to my seat. Oh, and one soggy novel.

Back to the main story -

The Olympus camera was inside a Sporty Guy, artfully worn around my neck and diagonally across my body in the time honoured way of tourism. Because I believed it to be inside a waterproof case, I just kept it about my neck while wandering around the rainforest. I did not take it out to take any photos, because then it would have got wet. I could have tucked it inside my lovely red raincoat, but I did not do that. Later that night, I took the camera from its bag, only to discover that the bag was waterlogged. So, the Sporty Guy is also waterproof inside and out. The camera is a wee bit bigger than the bag. The bag, therefore, does not close properly around the camera. Water seeped in at the edges and then stayed in, bathing the camera for goodness knows how long. Unsurprisingly, but sadly, the camera died. We mourn the passing of the Olympus C750.

It took me ages to buy a new camera. I um'ed and aah'ed and Googled this and that and read heaps of reviews. Eventually, I just went to the little camera store near my place of work, which I knew to be more expensive than the 'high street' chains but from whom I got great service. Great service and an independent store meant I was happy to pay a little bit more for whatever I ended up buying. I bought a Caplio R5. Mostly, I bought it because, for its size, it has a great optical zoom - 7.1 x - and its macro function was very impressive. I took lots of photos of my index finger in the store. I take rather a lot of photos of flowers, and the macro function is my favourite camera function.

The Caplio's case.
Two demonstrations in one: my love of macro and the little Crumpler guy.

I've had the Caplio R5 for almost a year now, and I don't love it as much as the Olympus. Matter of fact, I don't love it at all. I just tolerate it, and it, me. I do continue to be impressed by its macro funtion. And it is very compact: fits nicely into my hand. The Olympus was bulky. But that was just part of its charm.

And one other problem with the Caplio: my partner dropped it, so now there is a dust speck on the lens, which affects how we frame photos and also means we have to digitally manipulate photos before posting onto the web or printing. And that's a hassle.

I am contemplating purchasing another camera. But one part of me - the frugal part - is tsking about it because the Caplio works fine, and, if I'm honest, pretty well. Except in low light. It's really rubbish in low light. Another part of me - the gear geek part - really wants a new toy to play with.

I thought I had decided that I would buy the Fuji Finepix s8000 - it has an 18 x optical zoom. But the reviews are less enthusiastic then I would like them to be and Amazon.co.uk don't sell it at the moment. Had Olympus' monster zoom camera got anywhere near the rave reviews of the Fuji Finepix, I would have bought it with barely a bat of the eyelids. On reading more reviews, I shifted my loyalties over to the Fuji Finepix s9600 - it has a 10x optical zoom and the reviews are very positive. And Amazon sell it. But Amazon don't sell the memory card. So, I am back to deferred position again, and thinking about what camera to purchase.

Do you have one you would rave about?

Caveat: I don't want an SLR. I hike and I don't want to carry a lot of gear. Because I need that precious weight for my food.

I am a Nerd!

For a long time now, the tags list has been really bothering me. I much prefer a tag cloud. Del.icio.us first introduced me to the wonders of tag clouds (gmail having already introduced me to tags) and Wordpress has a tag cloud function. It has been annoying me that Blogger doesn't. Annoying me so much that I contemplated switching blogging platform over to Wordpress. However, I am attached to Blogger and Google otherwise runs my life, so I could not quite make the leap.

Although I was an early uptaker of e-mail and all things internetty, I sort of plateaued. I never learned any html (I cut and paste from other sites). Then I got my partner. When computery-type things go wrong, I plaintively say his name, elongating his single syllable into two. If things are really bad, I use three. Sporadically, and without much commitment, I google to find simplistic me a tag cloud maker. As you can see, just over there to your left, I have finally been successful.

Should you also wish to make a tag cloud and have otherwise not done so, here is the link.

I was so happy with the result, I thought I would make a thank you comment. So I surfed my way over to the original post. Plenty more people have been there before me, with their two cents: 370 of them. Mine seems pitiful, and possibly bothersome, so I haven't commented. Here, and this, seems a better forum to thank the tag cloud maker.

Phydeaux3, should you ever find your way here: Thank you. The list was really ugly. I like the cloud much better.



Powered by ScribeFire.

On Blogging

While I was transferring some of my photo-blog posts over to this, my talkie-blog, I found something I said early on in my blogging days:
"Is this about books or pictures? I really wouldn't know. I keep having a lovely internal discussion about web-blogs. I won't replicate it here - I would have to spend some time composing an essay." That was on my photo-blog.

I said this on *this* blog: "Clearly, I have somewhat altered the purpose of this blog, by mere fact of this post. Who knows what it will bring."

I started this blog to document my family story. I stopped because I got a computer in which to store my family story and because it was difficult writing and delving into that story in such a public environment as a blog. The blog started becoming about race and identity - because that's a key theme in my family story. Then it kind of evolved (devolved?) from there to be generally about me - this was the fault of writing some things about LAW. I'm not quite a Blawg (law-blog) - nor do I want to be - but I am a law nerd and I do love the law, so I think about it a lot. And sometimes, I just needed to shout out about the law. I think the fact that I started writing about books also drifted the theme of the blog away from race and identity.

I still am very interested in race and identity; it's just hard work thinking about those issues all the time. And somehow (and so far), in the UK, it's less of a concern. Perhaps this is because I AM a foreigner here. So whenever anyone asks me where I'm from, Australia is the answer. And people permit me to respond with 'Australia' (they're kind like that). They don't proceed to ask me where I am *really* from (not like in Australia ...). I am not bothered about clawing for belonging here, because I do not belong. I belong elsewhere, but the clawing there has been suspended.

Rather, I continued with the blog because it was a wonderful exercise in writing, and I let more of myself onto it. I think if you read this, you know me pretty well. I am still reasonably careful not to reveal too much (ie. my address), but sometimes I wonder about the extent to which we are worried about privacy.

One of my greatest bugbears is when a client won't tell me something, using rights-wielding words such as "that is my private information." I have no qualms explaining to people WHY I need to know the answer to the questions I am asking. I have a duty not to go blabbing about their personal affairs to all and sundry, and, indeed, I have a duty not to even tell anyone that they have come to me for legal advice. I want to scream at him/her: I am your legal advisor: you must tell me everything that is relevant (and I am a wee bit better placed than you to judge whether it is relevant). So can I have that information now please? It's not me pruriently prying into your private life. It helps me to advise you fully - and you do want that, don't you? Because I don't want it to come out in court and have me standing there smacking my forehead for not knowing about whatever it is that was oh-so private.

I wonder how 'private' such details as my home address or phone number actually are, when I tell you in florid detail how I feel about a book, or how an individual has treated me. Surely my thoughts and feelings are more private than my contact details? But I don't intend to reveal my contact details. *I* have consented to revealing information about myself. But the people around me have not.

I am also reasonably careful not to write about my employer, or my clients (except to rant in a general way about their existence). I am careful when writing about my family, and friends. And I let my partner vet anything I write about him.

As I have said before, I consider myself to have a digital persona: she has bits that are more exaggerated, or under-emphasised than the me-in-real-life who gets on with her daily life: her household chores and her paid work. We are the same person, but our representation is slightly different. Equally, my representation alters depending on whether I am in a social environment or a professional environment, or with my family, or with my partner. We're all me, but I'm not a lawyer when I'm with my parents, and I'm not an aunt when I'm at work (except that there's a picture of one of my adorable nieces on my workspace). The digital environment is just another place where, though I am still me, I won't behave as e.g. Oanh Lawyer or Oanh Girlfriend.

I did discover that as I wrote, my categories and labels became fluid. I could not really separate race, from law, from gender, from literature. They're all part and parcel of how I see the world, and how I want to explore that in my writing.

Ah, but I digress.

Why do I blog?

The pre-dominant reason is because it is structured writing. Of a different kind to what I do in my daily work, and different again from my dead-tree journal writing (although a lot more like it).

I don't have the kind of blog that tells you what I am doing and thinking moment-by-moment (because I find those blogs riveting for a while and then just mind-numbingly boring). Taken to the extreme, it's Twittering. Which is an inane phenomenon, according to toi (that's me in Viet - bada bam bada boom). I don't even have, anymore, a themed blog. It just is.

I do like each post to be unified - to begin, and to end - and to be *about* something (even if that something is mundane).

I also enjoy the phenomenon of the blogosphere - my commenters and the places I comment; how my thoughts are enriched and expanded upon by others; how things I haven't considered are brought to my attention. I love that I am connected to people all over the world from where I am: the obvious places (Australia, UK, North America), the less obvious but still 'I get it' places (Viet Nam, Malaysia, Philippines) and the bizarre: Uzbekhistan. Granted, the visitor from Uzbekhistan might have been a friend checking in on me while she was travelling - but I don't know that for certain. And my Uzbekhi visitor might not visit again but s/he found me! How did s/he find me? Did s/he get something of value or did s/he roll her/his eyes (just another Viet-Australian lawyer in the UK moaning and groaning about books, movies, identity, and law. ho hum.)

I have many more regular visitors than I have commenters. I am, naturally, very curious about them. Who are you guys? How did you find me? Will you stay? (This is not a plea for you to de-lurk. You are more than welcome to continue lurking; I don't mind. I lurk on plenty of blogs. I am curious though.)

But it is also the commenters in the blogosphere who have me the most worried. On my own blog, I'm yet to encounter trouble - but I'm worried about it. On other blogs, I occasionally get myself bogged down in the comment stream - you get sent off in all kinds of directions - and then you just have to stop. I find the endless comments exhausting. Like the moment-by-moment blog, I am initially riveted and then I am drained. Like watching a car crash, or a pub brawl: it's fascinating, but ultimately does not add anything to my character (or shames me with my own voyeuristic tendencies).

I also get worried about how my time gets sucked into the whirlpool of other blogs - what I like to think of as the Charybdis of the blogging world - and my own blog writing. I think of myself sometimes as Scylla - blogging monster of many heads, grabbing ships of inspirations and sailors of ideas, spitting them out again with vim and some venom. Sometimes, I am Ulysses (or any other mythical Greek sailor who did not make into the canon): I have to navigate a path between Charybdis (reading too many blogs, sinking and disappearing off the edge of the world) and Scylla (self-destructive castigation about blog writing).

I think there is value in blogs: the reading and the writing win out over the inanities, misinformation and time-sucker. But then, I'm biased - because I am a blogger and I think I'm here to stay. There is a world of rubbish out there: rubbish which is equally present in published media whether it be newspapers (here's looking at you, News Ltd) or novels or non-fiction. There is also a panoply of wondrous stuff - more than you will ever read. You find your place, like you do in the real world, and then you enjoy it, learn something and hopefully enrich others too. But the best part is: it's you who makes your blog world - you don't have to be a passive absorber of stimuli: you can create and participate. (I'm so Web 2.0.)

Inspired by Sophie at Sarsparilla, Pavlov's Cat, a snippet from a very brave post by Galaxy and as challenged by Cee, many moons ago.

Google is taking over my life

I have google analytics and I like to look at it every now and then. Sometimes I forget it's there but recently I received an email telling me they made it all fancy-schmancy. And it's great! It's much more understandable for non-technological me, and right on the front page it has what I am really interested in: the keywords people have been using to find my site.

For a long time now, this post has been the biggest hit. This makes me sad, because it means whoever is reading, or contemplating reading, that wonderful book cannot find a more prolific writer's review of it. I google it to check, and there it is, me at the top. (yes yes vicious cycle, I know. But honestly, I don't do that a lot. About every 6 months or so).

The one that is making the most hits of late are split into two: Ghosts and banh canh - and like a tensely run race, those keywords keep leap-frogging each other.

I love my banh canh story. I hope the people googling recipes for banh canh stay to read my story. I aim for more posts like that one, and fewer babbly ones like this one.

My reviews are not particularly objective - I like to put myself into my reviews. I would expect that if people wanted something useful in a review, or some literary criticism, they know where else to do searches, rather than using google or other web search engines. I am trained in literary criticism, but I prefer to provide my emotive responses in this blog. I also enjoy reading emotive reviews. I'm not such a sucker that I don't know the difference between a critical review, and an emotional review - or indeed the parts of a review that are critical and those parts that are emotive. Ideologically, I am a perspectivist (as well as the other things I have declared in the past) - so pointing out my position and perspective is vital to how I present most of my ideas.

I am really pleased that no ew-y people have come by this site by typing in unsavoury things. I'm not going to type any here because then that gives them the keywords - but those of you sensitised to the exoticisation of Asian women will know what I am on about.

For a small period of time, someone had found my site by typing in keywords that suggested to me they were not looking for the types of things I write. Nevertheless, they had a fine old look around my site, but did not seem to revisit. I trust they found something worthwhile ...

Warning - Illustrations!

Just in case any of you have me on RSS: You may be bombarded with posts - I am transporting posts from my photo-blog to this one (and back-dating them), with the intention of binning the photo-blog.

All will calm down, eventually.

In case you aren't on my RSS and want to have a look at the old posts, you will find most success by using the 'Illustrated' tag, just over there, to your left.

thanks!

Ashamed to be feminist

I am technologically challenged. And what's more, sadly and ashamedly non-proactive about it.

My partner is the IT geek. IT is his problem (and a rather big problem it is at present - having to write up his PhD.) My partner is not currently with me. He is over the seas, tramping around New Zealand. I am at home, mostly alone for the little time that I am actually at home. I thought that, being on my own so much and without him to distract me, I would post more. But no. It's been almost three weeks and nothing from me.

There is a good reason. sort of.

My internet connection was not working and I've made a new resolution not to go near blogs at work during the day. Yes, not even at lunch time. Basically, each time I tried to log on, my lovely internet host (who cannot be named for legal reasons har har) would tell me I was not allowed to. I read the forbidding message. There was nothing I could do: I was forbad. I fiddled around on my computer and then tried to log in again. The nasty message appeared again. I looked at the message and then turned the computer off. A few days later, I tried again. Same message. I thought, "My partner will be home soon. I'll wait for him to fix it."

I'm terrible. What kind of feminist am I? Damsel in technological distress patiently waits for about two weeks until Knight in Shiny IT Armour rescues her?

Well, let me tell you that I logged onto the internet all by myself. And the evil message thing just let me. I snuck past it - I did not fix anything at all. It did not work last week but it works today.

And don't worry, I am not at all ashamed to be feminist. But I am hanging my head a little because of my victim-like approach to Technological Problems.

Meta-blogging

I've been silent awhile.

It's because of a number of things:-

1. Life's busy.
2. I did not have access to a computer at home.
3. I got a new lap top as a present! I had to play with my new lap top. I am a new recruit to all things internet-ty and downloading software took so much time. Plus I had to figure out how it all worked!
4. I've been thinking a lot about the skill that is blogging - purpose, content. I've read great blogs about blogging as well as had an excellent conversation with an old, anti-technology / digital age friend about blogging and digital personas. I had to think for a long time before I could blog again.
5. Having a lap top means that I can now write, and save, my material without recourse to saving it on the internet.
6. I started thinking about the purpose of my blogging again. Internal monologues are great, but nobody else hears them. So I started reading more blogs and that caused further internal argument. I was so right so often, and also so wrong, usually more often. I can't stand me when I won't back down from a position.
7. I felt guilty that I had not posted. Then I felt angry that I felt guilty. So I didn't post *on purpose* just to show me that I could not post and I'd be okay with that. And lo, I was.

Clearly, I have somewhat altered the purpose of this blog, by mere fact of this post. Who knows what it will bring.