31 October 2007
Halloween meets Happiness & Cyanide
Halloween is a non-event in Australia so it's been interesting to see people of all ages dressed up in crazy costumes on the T or the kids trick-or-treating in Boston. They really love it here. Someone even put a few of the iconic carved pumpkins on my building stoop the other day which was very quaint, but all in all, I can't say that I really 'get' the whole Halloween thing.
27 October 2007
iRun
If you're a health conscious, body mass index inspecting type of person (e.g gay), there's a good chance that you have an established workout regime that keeps things taut and trim. Maybe part of that regime is pounding away on the treadmill watching the 'Calories burned' counter painfully ticking up as you repeat your prayers for the 30 min run-time to be over already. The grating whine of the machine's rubber conveyer, the uninspiring gym interior, the person sweating and panting away next to you, not the most appealing way to burn off that afternoon chocolate is it?
I used to be a treadmill guy but am now totally converted to running outside. Try it and you just may find it more invigorating and satisfying than gym-running. Despite having to negotiate oblivious drivers and the occasional dog turd, going for a 'real' run sure as hell beats the dreaded treadmill grind. When I was doing my PhD, myself and a few other workmates used to go for runs during lunchtimes twice a week. We used to run along Rushcutters Bay, or through the Botanic gardens, along the beautiful waterfront of Sydney harbour, around Mrs. Macquaries chair and the Opera house.
Despite burning calves and desperate breaths, running on a clear spring day with the Sydney Harbour bridge in sight, and with the mesmerising ocean backdrop, was bloody awesome. With the endorphins pumping it was bliss.
As a reward to myself for submitting my PhD thesis I bought an 8 GB iPod nano (2nd generation) which I love. Purchase of the Nike+ running kit quickly followed. The kit consists of a sensor that is placed in your shoe, which measures distance travelled and the data is transmitted real-time to a receiver that plugs into the bottom of the iPod. Over at the Nike site they have a nice video illustrating how the kit works, but the kit basically makes your iPod into a fancy pedometer with audio feedback that tracks your progress ("5 minutes to go!") and of course provides a playlist to run to. Once your iPod is synced with your computer after a run your data is transmitted to the Nike+ site where your data is stored, runs graphed, and you can set goals and see how your runs fare against all the other Nike+ users around the globe. This global comparison/rank thing is actually pretty cool.
Nike insist that use of the kit requires purchase of their shoes, which have a section in the sole to hold the sensor. You don't need to buy those shoes. I just put the sensor in a small plastic bag for protection against the elements and use packing tape to attach it to the tongue of my shoe, underneath the laces. It works fine and the distances are amazingly accurate when compared to Gmaps Pedometer, a very handy tool to calculate the distance of your runs. More do-it-yourself tips on how to attach the Nike+ sensor to your shoe can be found at Podophile.
As part of the Nike+ kit, you can program a 'Powersong' to play when you hold down the centre button of your iPod. It's supposed to psyche you up and encourage you to work through the burn man. Mine's Champion by the Australian band, Grinspoon. It's a bristling, amped rock tune that is great to run to, hear for yourself!.
I miss the harbour runs in Sydney, but one extra incentive for running in Boston occurs after my run. It's when I arrive back at my apartment, panting, sweating and revelling in the sports-induced endorphins bouncing around in my brain. In this slightly joy-frenzied state I plop down on the stairs leading into my building, stretch out my legs and look. On my stoop I see branches of the tree in front of me, hypnotically swaying in the breeze, leaves rustling. Lazy clouds stream by in the overhead twilight sky. There's always a background hum of light traffic passing by. A pair of old ladies clutching grocery bags amble home. Several college girls pass, their conversation punctuated with delighted squeals and smiles. Cyclists, dogwalkers, individuals of all dispositions go by. It's people-watching at its best.
Of course the cute boys cruising past automatically capture my attention. Some are running, others have their girlfriends in tow, sometimes they pass by ensconced in their personal iPod world. It never ceases to amaze me how effortlessly hot some guys are and how they continue to stream past. Not all pass by however. Today I spied a hot, young professional looking guy, black collared shirt, black pants, sandy hair messed up in that careful kinda way walking down the street. Way out of my league. Still, I watched with interest as he turned and entered my building. Sweat drippng down my face, lounging on the steps, iPod blasting, I looked up and gave a small smile and nod of the head. Not flirting exactly, more of a polite acknowledgment to a fellow tenant. A polite return smile and nod from cute guy. No Sydney harbour views today, but there, sitting in the evening Fall twilight, I'm content.
I used to be a treadmill guy but am now totally converted to running outside. Try it and you just may find it more invigorating and satisfying than gym-running. Despite having to negotiate oblivious drivers and the occasional dog turd, going for a 'real' run sure as hell beats the dreaded treadmill grind. When I was doing my PhD, myself and a few other workmates used to go for runs during lunchtimes twice a week. We used to run along Rushcutters Bay, or through the Botanic gardens, along the beautiful waterfront of Sydney harbour, around Mrs. Macquaries chair and the Opera house.
Sydney Harbour run loop. It’s about a 7 km (4.3 mi) run.
Despite burning calves and desperate breaths, running on a clear spring day with the Sydney Harbour bridge in sight, and with the mesmerising ocean backdrop, was bloody awesome. With the endorphins pumping it was bliss.
As a reward to myself for submitting my PhD thesis I bought an 8 GB iPod nano (2nd generation) which I love. Purchase of the Nike+ running kit quickly followed. The kit consists of a sensor that is placed in your shoe, which measures distance travelled and the data is transmitted real-time to a receiver that plugs into the bottom of the iPod. Over at the Nike site they have a nice video illustrating how the kit works, but the kit basically makes your iPod into a fancy pedometer with audio feedback that tracks your progress ("5 minutes to go!") and of course provides a playlist to run to. Once your iPod is synced with your computer after a run your data is transmitted to the Nike+ site where your data is stored, runs graphed, and you can set goals and see how your runs fare against all the other Nike+ users around the globe. This global comparison/rank thing is actually pretty cool.
Nike insist that use of the kit requires purchase of their shoes, which have a section in the sole to hold the sensor. You don't need to buy those shoes. I just put the sensor in a small plastic bag for protection against the elements and use packing tape to attach it to the tongue of my shoe, underneath the laces. It works fine and the distances are amazingly accurate when compared to Gmaps Pedometer, a very handy tool to calculate the distance of your runs. More do-it-yourself tips on how to attach the Nike+ sensor to your shoe can be found at Podophile.
As part of the Nike+ kit, you can program a 'Powersong' to play when you hold down the centre button of your iPod. It's supposed to psyche you up and encourage you to work through the burn man. Mine's Champion by the Australian band, Grinspoon. It's a bristling, amped rock tune that is great to run to, hear for yourself!.
I miss the harbour runs in Sydney, but one extra incentive for running in Boston occurs after my run. It's when I arrive back at my apartment, panting, sweating and revelling in the sports-induced endorphins bouncing around in my brain. In this slightly joy-frenzied state I plop down on the stairs leading into my building, stretch out my legs and look. On my stoop I see branches of the tree in front of me, hypnotically swaying in the breeze, leaves rustling. Lazy clouds stream by in the overhead twilight sky. There's always a background hum of light traffic passing by. A pair of old ladies clutching grocery bags amble home. Several college girls pass, their conversation punctuated with delighted squeals and smiles. Cyclists, dogwalkers, individuals of all dispositions go by. It's people-watching at its best.
Of course the cute boys cruising past automatically capture my attention. Some are running, others have their girlfriends in tow, sometimes they pass by ensconced in their personal iPod world. It never ceases to amaze me how effortlessly hot some guys are and how they continue to stream past. Not all pass by however. Today I spied a hot, young professional looking guy, black collared shirt, black pants, sandy hair messed up in that careful kinda way walking down the street. Way out of my league. Still, I watched with interest as he turned and entered my building. Sweat drippng down my face, lounging on the steps, iPod blasting, I looked up and gave a small smile and nod of the head. Not flirting exactly, more of a polite acknowledgment to a fellow tenant. A polite return smile and nod from cute guy. No Sydney harbour views today, but there, sitting in the evening Fall twilight, I'm content.
23 October 2007
Aussie mojo
If you're an Eskimo Joe fan and missed out on their show tonight in Cambridge, Massachusetts, then sucks to be you because not only did they play a great but short (around 35 mins) gig, but they hung out and mingled with the crowd afterwards. That's right, I was literally rubbing shoulders with Kav, Joel, Stu and the others.
The venue was TT the Bears, a small grungy venue with a tiny stage that puts the audience right up close to the musicians. The turn-up was small, no more than 50 odd people, and I'd guess that at least half of them were Aussies. It was kinda bizarre that Eskimo Joe, a famous band in Australia who have played to tens of thousands of people at major festivals like Big Day Out were playing in such a dingy place. The crazier thing is that they weren't even the headline act, but were supporting some totally crappy American band called Stars of Track and Field. After Eskimo Joe finished their set, about half the audience bailed (presumably the Aussies), and Lulu, Bing and I followed after hearing two awful songs from the supposed headline act. Even the band prior to Eskimo Joe was better than Stars of Track and Field, I'm sorry but they really sucked. To see the Eskimo Joe band members setting up and carrying their own amps etc. was sobering in outlining the divide between musicians 'making it' in Australia and the States. I wonder what they must think about it all.
I'm not a die-hard fan of Eskimo Joe but of their performances I've seen, this was easily the best. The intimacy of being about 5 metres away from the band with almost no-one surrounding me (i.e being able to really enjoy the music and not being distracted by mosh survival maneuvers), combined with the very professional and tight set of grooving tunes, plus the fact that Joel is very talented (I've seen him play guitar, bass, drums and keyboard) and cute, made tonight a good one. Good mojo was definitely flowing. 8 bucks well spent I'd say.
Update 25/10/07: What impressed me immensely, was that even though they were subjugated to support act in a not so glamorous venue, E. Joe were energized, looked to be having a blast and totally rocked in general. This write-up of the gig in the Boston Herald hits the nail on the head with "Exuding confidence and attitude, Eskimo Joe perhaps has a simple lesson to teach Stars of Track and Field: If you’re not having fun, neither is the audience.".
The venue was TT the Bears, a small grungy venue with a tiny stage that puts the audience right up close to the musicians. The turn-up was small, no more than 50 odd people, and I'd guess that at least half of them were Aussies. It was kinda bizarre that Eskimo Joe, a famous band in Australia who have played to tens of thousands of people at major festivals like Big Day Out were playing in such a dingy place. The crazier thing is that they weren't even the headline act, but were supporting some totally crappy American band called Stars of Track and Field. After Eskimo Joe finished their set, about half the audience bailed (presumably the Aussies), and Lulu, Bing and I followed after hearing two awful songs from the supposed headline act. Even the band prior to Eskimo Joe was better than Stars of Track and Field, I'm sorry but they really sucked. To see the Eskimo Joe band members setting up and carrying their own amps etc. was sobering in outlining the divide between musicians 'making it' in Australia and the States. I wonder what they must think about it all.
I'm not a die-hard fan of Eskimo Joe but of their performances I've seen, this was easily the best. The intimacy of being about 5 metres away from the band with almost no-one surrounding me (i.e being able to really enjoy the music and not being distracted by mosh survival maneuvers), combined with the very professional and tight set of grooving tunes, plus the fact that Joel is very talented (I've seen him play guitar, bass, drums and keyboard) and cute, made tonight a good one. Good mojo was definitely flowing. 8 bucks well spent I'd say.
Update 25/10/07: What impressed me immensely, was that even though they were subjugated to support act in a not so glamorous venue, E. Joe were energized, looked to be having a blast and totally rocked in general. This write-up of the gig in the Boston Herald hits the nail on the head with "Exuding confidence and attitude, Eskimo Joe perhaps has a simple lesson to teach Stars of Track and Field: If you’re not having fun, neither is the audience.".
19 October 2007
Flatmates again
Sure I'm in dire need of a liver transplant, and my brain has been significantly pickled in a bath of alcohol-infused cerebrospinal fluid, but it's been a helluva past few days!
Ex-flatmate has since left Boston but his brief stay with me has been the highlight of my six months in Boston so far. It was a surreal experience to see Ex-flatmate in Boston, showing him around and introducing him to my new friends and life here. Detailed blogging of his stay will hopefully eventuate in the coming weeks, but highlights include: 'leaf peeping' in Maine; getting a flat tyre on a major freeway on our return from Maine; playing tour guide and taking Ex-flatmate to my favourite eating haunts; exploring new bars and pubs; chilling out to awesome live music at Matt Murphy's pub; and seeing the Isabella Gardner Museum. Also, Ex-flatmate missing his flight out of Boston and being forced to stay another day was not quite a highlight, but certainly memorable.
Boston is a great city to live in, it's small and easy to get around, has quaint, quiet neighbourhoods that gives the city character and charm, and has a decent selection of places that can be spent dancing, drinking or hanging out during the night. Despite all this, pangs of homesickness have inevitably hit, occurring when things at work have gone pear-shaped or when I'm forced to spend nights solo. These are dangerous times where the mind dwells to dark thoughts and pines for the good old days back in ever so distant Sydney, a familiar home where the comfort of family and close mates beckon. When Ex-flatmate departed it triggered a new wave of homesickness as I know that it will be many months before we'll hang out together again. Sure we can share laughs over the phone or even email, but how can one compare musing about life and love over a beer in a cosy pub to chatting via Skype? You just can't. The saving grace is that I've made some good friends in Boston and we have loads of fun together, but sometimes it's not just quite the same as going out with Ex-flatmate et al.
Back in Sydney, I know Ex-flatmate will miss the States. Prior to Boston he had partied his way through San Francisco and New York in a frenzy of random fun events, chance encounters with interesting people and generally had a blast doing what we all seldom really do on a day-to-day basis, that is, taking time out to enjoy life and be happy. It's been a life-altering experience for him on many different levels and he tells me that he'll start a blog and write about it, so when the time comes I'll link to him if he wants. Should be an intriguing read and I'm looking forward to it.
Now my tourist guide stint is over and it's back to business as usual. My flatmates now again are just my pets, 'Fetch' the turtle and my (unnamed) Siamese fighting fish. But that's OK because there will always be the next visit by Ex-flatmate. Besides, I can look over the photos we took during his stay, remember, and laugh.
Ex-flatmate has since left Boston but his brief stay with me has been the highlight of my six months in Boston so far. It was a surreal experience to see Ex-flatmate in Boston, showing him around and introducing him to my new friends and life here. Detailed blogging of his stay will hopefully eventuate in the coming weeks, but highlights include: 'leaf peeping' in Maine; getting a flat tyre on a major freeway on our return from Maine; playing tour guide and taking Ex-flatmate to my favourite eating haunts; exploring new bars and pubs; chilling out to awesome live music at Matt Murphy's pub; and seeing the Isabella Gardner Museum. Also, Ex-flatmate missing his flight out of Boston and being forced to stay another day was not quite a highlight, but certainly memorable.
Boston is a great city to live in, it's small and easy to get around, has quaint, quiet neighbourhoods that gives the city character and charm, and has a decent selection of places that can be spent dancing, drinking or hanging out during the night. Despite all this, pangs of homesickness have inevitably hit, occurring when things at work have gone pear-shaped or when I'm forced to spend nights solo. These are dangerous times where the mind dwells to dark thoughts and pines for the good old days back in ever so distant Sydney, a familiar home where the comfort of family and close mates beckon. When Ex-flatmate departed it triggered a new wave of homesickness as I know that it will be many months before we'll hang out together again. Sure we can share laughs over the phone or even email, but how can one compare musing about life and love over a beer in a cosy pub to chatting via Skype? You just can't. The saving grace is that I've made some good friends in Boston and we have loads of fun together, but sometimes it's not just quite the same as going out with Ex-flatmate et al.
Back in Sydney, I know Ex-flatmate will miss the States. Prior to Boston he had partied his way through San Francisco and New York in a frenzy of random fun events, chance encounters with interesting people and generally had a blast doing what we all seldom really do on a day-to-day basis, that is, taking time out to enjoy life and be happy. It's been a life-altering experience for him on many different levels and he tells me that he'll start a blog and write about it, so when the time comes I'll link to him if he wants. Should be an intriguing read and I'm looking forward to it.
Now my tourist guide stint is over and it's back to business as usual. My flatmates now again are just my pets, 'Fetch' the turtle and my (unnamed) Siamese fighting fish. But that's OK because there will always be the next visit by Ex-flatmate. Besides, I can look over the photos we took during his stay, remember, and laugh.
Fetch the turtle. Despite the looming close-up shot, Fetch is still a baby and only 2 inches long.
My other flatmate is a Siamese Fighting Fish (they call them Bettas here in Boston).
16 October 2007
PhD 101
Ex-flatmate requested a photo of my PhD thesis after reading a previous post where I was rambling on about how chuffed I was with its cover colour, and since he hasn't seen it before here it is mate:
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