the Met

I spent 4 hours at the Met on Sunday. First, the medieval wing, with stained-glass and ceramic figures (yes, those are women with the bodies of beasts!):





Then, a variety of very lovely settings of what living rooms would've looked like, in the Victoria era. I love the different colors of walls.







I purchased the audio guide (because Dan did). Some of the paintings didn't impress me overly at first, but became more intruiging when I learned their story. The one below was commissioned by a woman who had the romantic favor of the king. She wished to keep herself in favor by sending him these enticing portraits, but keeping her mystery via the little corner of cloth that drapes over her nether regions. Apparently this was only sufficient for 6 years, and then he lost interest.



I liked this painting of Washington crossing the Delaware. It was wrong in all sorts of ways, such as:
1. They are crossing in the wrong direction.
2. The water is filled with icebergs which would've made it impossible to cross.
3. It would not have been possible to have horses and cannons in the small boats.
4. The boats are floating too lightly for that number of men.

but the spirits shows through! I recently read a biography of Washington in Newsweek which made me marvel that history was not more fascinating when I learned it in high school! Because this account of George Washington was riveting! On Christmas Day, they crossed the Delaware, becoming so tired and soaked that their guns didn't even work and they just stabbed the British with their bayonets. They were 4 hours behind schedule. But that's not what history remembers! The flaws are forgotten in the glory.

It reminds me of how things look so grand and magical from the outside, but they are so fraught with mistakes and peril from the inside. In Lord of the Rings, Frodo was wracked with weariness, fear, grumpiness, but later his deeds become an epic song. This is the way with actual life as well. Google looks so impenetrable to some outsiders, so miraculously able to deliver innovative products on a very rapid schedule. But on the inside, it is actually quite imperfect.



I also enjoyed how the Met has a mezzanine in the American Wing which is just crammed with objects. An entire row of silverware. Another entire row of portraits. This is the secondary collection, the less-important works which would probably be prominently displayed at any other museum but which are crammed along with hundreds of other similar objects at the Met.



Lastly, I like this picture. I can imagine being an early pioneer (glorious from the outside, but probably filled with fear and flies at the time!) and coming upon this scene.

I would have liked to live here:

Prison-cell room is still okay

Peter has gone to the hotel gym to get an apple and do 5 sets of weights. I am blogging and doing a tiny bit of work.

We spent the day with the lovely Dan & Tessa. I saw a very cute blue stuffed fish on top of Dan's bookshelf, and started to play with it. It is plush and high-quality.

Dan: Google apparently used these as an physical reward for a job well done, years ago.

me: Oh, what did you get this one for?

Dan: Winning the programming contest.

me: Oh, right, cool.

Dan: Apparently when they were deciding what to name the company, they did a search for Google (editor's note: which search engine did they use??) and the only company that came up was one that sold stuffed-animal fish. [waves the fish] Presumably because its eyes stick out and are googly. [points fish toward me, eyes first] So they decided it probably didn't conflict and would be okay.

me: Well, good luck finding that company now. What would you search for, "google fish"?

...

I held the stuffed fish, while Dan & I played the 2-player card version of Settlers of Catan (I won, haha!). Peter took a nap. Later, as we were heading out to our first play during this NY trip:

Peter: Hey, let's take the fish to the play.

Dan: [very concerned] No!!!

me: Okay. Here, catch the fish! [throws fish to Dan]

Dan: [catches fish, then cradles it, with eyebrows raised, making protective noises]

...

We saw the play, Naked Boys Singing. There were quite a few bachelorette parties in the audience. It was 90 minutes of nude men singing and dancing.

By the end, I began to think I was too critical, because here were a bunch of Broadway actors who surely must be in the best shape, and yet I didn't think their abs were the best! Luckily Dan also said they didn't have perfect abs.

Gender bender.

This morning in hiring committee, we ran across a bunch of candidates with gender-ambiguous names. Think along the lines of "Jo", "Pat", "Shen".

One of the referrals was written by a Googler whom I will call Joshua. It was written in this manner: "I am referring Pat. They're a very strong software engineer. My experience with their code has been positive."

"Is Joshua not sure whether Pat is a man or woman?" I asked.

"No, that's just the way he writes," said Ann Mei.

I told the story of how in high school, I had a friend for months whose gender I was not certain about. Every time I tell this story, people are incredulous. "How can you not tell?" they would say.

But it was true. In my last 2 years of high school, I ate lunch every day with the same crowd of chinese students, mostly from Hong Kong. One of them (let's call this person Z) was slightly chubby, and the weight distribution made it impossible to determine whether there were breasts or not.

In chinese, the word for "he" and "she" sound the same, which was bad because other people's references to Z did not provide hints, but also good in that I could mask my own lack of knowledge.

When this happens, at first you think that you'll observe for a couple days and you'll figure it out, so you don't say anything. Then after 5 months, you really can't say, "Hey Z, you know how we've been eating lunch every day together, and we've hung out and gone to each other's houses? Well, funny question for you. Are you a guy or a girl?"

Eventually I finally broached the subject with my other friends. Another student, who was clearly a girl, said, "He's a guy. He told me this long story of liking a girl in junior high, and how she had great hair, etc." Later at lunch, one of the guys said, "I can tell my secrets to Z but not to you, because we're both guys!"

But then I found out that Z's English name was Kara. And Z told me a long story about having a big crush on a guy, and showed me pictures of the guy.

This was very confusing.

I think Z is a girl, but to this day I am only 99% sure.

free porn

We just discovered that we have free porn through HBO!

New Orleans

My heart goes out to New Orleans.

I wish it was easier to donate money and get Google matching.

Marine scientist Ivor van Heerden of Louisiana State University, who has developed
flooding models for New Orleans, was among those issuing dire predictions as 
Katrina approached, warnings that turned out to be grimly accurate.

"We're talking about an incredible environmental disaster," said van Heerden before
the storm arrived. He predicted that floodwaters would overcome the levee system, 
fill the low-lying areas of the city and then remain trapped there well after the 
storm passed — creating a giant, stagnant pool contaminated with debris, sewage and 
other hazardous materials. 

I find this very easy to identify with. Perhaps it's easier for me to imagine reaching an alarming finding as a scientist, than to imagine scrambling to higher ground in my house while it fills with water up to my neck.

I imagine this scientist issuing his predictions and giving warnings, and seeing them get ignored by others with less scientific background. I imagine him watching as the nightmare unfolds, proving him correct in a terrible way.

Dead Man Eating

I came across this interesting web site about the "last meals" of prison inmates before being executed on Death Row: dead man eating

Since these are primarily from Texas and surrounding states, most entries look like this:

gary lynn sterling, texas, august 10, 2005
chicken fried steak, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, 
French fries, pecan pie, sweet tea and a vanilla milkshake.

kevin conner
indiana
july 27, 2005
from Dairy Queen: four chili dogs, onion rings, a banana split 
and an Oreo-cookie Blizzard ice-cream drink. 

Then I came across this entry. I like this guy's taste:

robert dale conklin
georgia
july 12, 2005
a filet mignon wrapped with bacon; de-veined shrimp sautéed in 
garlic butter with lemon; baked potato with butter, sour cream,
 chives and real bacon bits; corn on the cob; asparagus with 
hollandaise sauce; French bread with butter; goat cheese; cantaloupe; 
apple pie; vanilla bean ice cream and iced tea. 

Prison officials said he ate the entire meal, cleaning two plates.

Vanilla ice cream is very popular as part of the final meal. I bet it's because vanilla ice cream is soothing in that mother's-milk return-to-breastfeeding type of way.

Sex in video games.

I'm currently googling for the sex video in Grand Theft Auto. It is taking longer than I expected.

...

Once upon a time, when I worked in the games industry, I was captivated by the idea of making a porn game. The game would be all about porn and simulating sex using your avatar. You would walk around in a virtual environment, meet other players, chat with them, and then simulate sex. There would be 3-d graphics, character animation, customizable skins and avatars, and full-motion video. It would be a massively multiplayer online realistic porn game (MMORPG).

...

I found this hilarious article about the sex patch, with a choice excerpt:

"The game is now being taken off the shelves all over the country and
re-labeled with an "AO" rating. This is much stricter than the "M" rating
the game originally received. According to the ESRB website:

Titles rated M (Mature) have content that may be suitable for persons of age 17 and older.

As opposed to the stricter AO rating:

Titles rated AO (Adults Only) have content that should only be played by persons 18 years and older.

What pisses me off more than anything is that I paid for a game rated for
17 year olds, or possibly 17 and 1/2 year olds, tops. What I got was a
game rated for 18 year olds instead."

...

I wonder if Google would support me in making my MMORPG. Ha.

Netflix.

I love that I can watch previews using Netflix. Go Netflix!

Couplets

We went to the outlet mall. I bought a long red strapless dress and a fancy costume headdress with feathers and fake fruit.

Tom put on the headdress. He's so tall and skinny that he looks very funny with the tall headdress.

"You should wear that to AsiaSF," says Peter.

I concur enthusiastically.

"I hope I can get in," says Tom.

"Just tell them your ID is under the hat," says Peter. "Say, 'It took me 3 hours to put the fruit on, but let me get the ID ...' and then they'll say, 'No, don't take off the hat!!'"

Eggs.

For dinner last night, we cooked meat on a griddle, then wrapped it in romaine lettuce with hoisin sauce.

"I'd like an egg," Tom says. "Can we grill an egg on here?"

My mother went to the fridge and brought out two eggs. She wiped clean one corner of the griddle, poured on canola oil, and cracked the egg against the side of the griddle. She poured the egg onto the griddle, where it quickly bubbled and turned white.

"Look how easy this is, Tom," I said. "You should buy a griddle, or a George Foreman grill."

"It looks easy because Mom is cooking it," he replies. "If I'm doing it, it won't be easy."

"Come on," I say.

Then Tom told a story. "Mom taught me how to make poached eggs. You put oil in a pan, heat it, and then put in the egg. So I was doing it at home. I put the oil in the pan and heated it. It didn't seem to get hot -- there wasn't much smoke coming off of it. So I turned up the heat, and kept waiting. After about 20 seconds, the oil suddenly all turned black, and then the pot cracked."

I laughed and laughed. I translated into chinese for my mother, and she laughed and laughed. "How could this be?" she said.

Boxes.

We rented a U-Haul on Friday to carry back all of our furniture from Bombay Company. There were 9 boxes total -- our chair and ottoman, two large mirrors, bookshelves, curvy dresser with marble top...



We unpacked a few items on Saturday, in a rush before Nicole the housecleaner came. We hauled the boxes out and dumped them next to the recycling bins.

Yesterday I go to check my mail and I see a typed note stapled to the wooden beam above the mailboxes:

   Our dumpsters are a mess!
   Boxes must be flattened!
   Boxes must be cut to fit in the recycling bins!
   Professional cleaners must be informed of the rules!
   Take responsibility for your boxes!!

"I wonder if that's a response to my boxes," I think to myself. "Okay, I'll remember for next time."

I sort through my mail and go to recycle the junk mail. When I get to the recycling bins, I see my boxes scattered all about, as I'd left them. They are large and heaped above, next to, and between the recycling bins.

I start to break them down, rip them so that they fit.

"Well, at least no one knows it was me," I think.

Then I see the packing slip on every box:

"Bombay Company.  
Ship to: Niniane Wang
         XXX Central Ave"

New York Times calls it...

The trailer for "In the mood for love",

The New York Times says, 'Dizzy with a romantic spirit that has been missing from the cinema ... forever.'

What a great quote!

Lunchtime conversation.

(Edited. Note this conversation is from 2005.)

With my coworkers. We're having a conversation about bonds and stocks.

Jordan: [explaining how raising interest rates depreciates the bond market]

Kevin: I'm very risk-averse.

Jordan: Would you ever lend someone money? Say they'd pay you interest. But there's a chance they could go bankrupt.

Nadim: Say I needed money.

Kevin: Well, I would lend you money, Nadim, because we're friends. But not for financial reasons. It'd be because helping my friends makes me happy, and that's the purpose of life -- happiness.

Jordan: [shocked that conversation has suddenly become so philosophical]

me: [delightedthat conversation has suddenly become so philosophical] But is happiness really the metric that you're trying to monetize? Let's say you could be ignorant and happy. Most people wouldn't choose that. They'd rather have more knowledge, even if it makes them less happy. So what is that elusive metric that we're really optimizing? ... Let's say you love someone, and then they die. You'll be really sad, but many people would prefer that to not having known the person, even if they would've been happier that way.

Kevin: You were happy before they died, so the integral over all time is still positive.

me: But maybe not as positive as if you'd spent that time doing something else that made you happier.

[more discussion]

me: I'm happy we're discussing this. I think about this once a month or so, and I can never come up with the metric. It would make life so much easier, if you had one metric to optimize for.

Jordan: When slashdot introduced the karma rating, all the users began madly to try to make that number go up. So I can imagine if people had a life rating, they'd all work on making that number as high as possible.

Kevin: Instead of PageRank, we'll have LifeRank.

Nadim: [solemnly] I know what my metric is. It's money.

me: [laughing]

Nadim: No, I'm serious.

Jordan: [to me] So all that time you spent considering the metric and debating what it is, he already has it figured out!

Kevin: [laughing] And he doesn't even need to calculate it himself! Someone else computes it for him!

me: [to Nadim] But you don't go around buying fancy cars or clothes!

Nadim: I don't spend the money. I'm a miser. You know DuckTales? I identify with that character, who's-it, Scrooge MacDuck.

Tom.

me: Tom, who wears the pants in your relationship?

Tom: She does. She has the pants and the belt.

Peter: Oh no! At least get the belt back.

Tom: Why, to hold up my non-existent pants?

Pruning.

I started to prune my roses today. Peter kept me company, working outside on the black wrought table and chair, while I was pruning.

Halfway through pruning, with a heap of discarded branches at my feet, I decided that I would use Google to actually read about pruning, as opposed to just going by the seat of my pants and cutting off branches that got in the way or were shaped too strangely.

"bring the remaining canes to at least half height being certain to 
make your cuts above an outward facing bud on the canes"

What are canes? And the buds are at the ends of the branches, so how can I cut above them?!

"Make your cuts at a 45-degree angle"

A little too late!

"Most rose pruning is done in the spring, with the blooming of the 
forsythia as a signal to get moving."

Hm, what if all the other plants you have other than rose bushes are weeds??

Then I read this wonderful article that began:

PRUNING ROSES 101
by Nanette Londeree, Consulting Rosarian
There seems to be a lot of mystery surrounding rose pruning, as well as lots of 
"rules" to follow in order to do it correctly. If I have learned anything over the 
last decade of pruning hundreds of roses, it is that roses are very forgiving. If
you cut too high, too low, at an inward facing bud rather than an outward facing 
one, in the long run, it really will not make a lot of difference. If the resulting
growth does not grow in the fashion or direction you desire, cut it again to correct
it. Once you realize that there is not too much one can do wrong, it makes the whole
job much easier.

The whole job is indeed much easier! Thank you "Nanette Londeree"! (That's an odd name. Though she would probably think my name is odd as well.)

Funny moments of my job.

Today we get a report that this email:

> Date: May 3, 2005 5:03 PM
> Subject: Running late
>
> Be there for the meeting as soon as I can.

triggers the following Gmail ad:

> Pain During Intercourse? - www.EndoKnow.com - Get a Customized
> Discussion Guide. Summary of Symptoms & More - Free!

I laughed out loud 4 times over this.

Public perception

me: [reading a press article praising my team's accidental feature leak as a brilliant strategy for trickling out the word slowly] They called us "marketing geniuses".

J: [laughing] Yeah, I saw that.

me: This is because we work at Google. If we were Microsoft, they would've called it "another evil ploy to maintain their monopoly."

A passage I like.

From Shanidar, a story about a man who was a rich noble in a futuristic alien world but who decided to abandon his wealth and live with neanderthal cavemen:

"And Goshevan?" he asked. "He was happy with the beautiful Lara? He
was happy, wasn't he?"

"He was happy," I said, trying to slip my old hand from the young
man's grip. "He was so happy he came to regard his body lice as his
'little pets' and didn't care that he would have to pass the rest of
his days without a bath. His stuttering, which had embarrassed him all
his life and caused him great shame, came to a sudden end as he found
the liquid vowels and smooth consonants of the Devaki language rolling
easily off his tongue. He loved Lara's children as his own and loved
Lara as only a desperate and romantic man can love a woman. Though she
had none of the exotic skills of the courtesans with whom he had been
so familiar, she loved him with such a strength and passion that he
came to divide his life into two parts: the time before Lara, which
was murky and dim and full of confused memories, and the time after,
which was full of light and joy and laughter. So it happened that
when, the following midwinter spring, she pointed to her belly and
smiled, he knew with a sureness that he had not spent his life in vain
and was as happy as a man could be.

Phone call with my little brother

me: "So I hear that Mom is advising you every day to dump your girlfriend."

Tom: "Yeah."

me: "Aha, now you are in the situation I was in! Well, still in. Dad is against my relationship, and Mom is against yours."

Tom: "Yeah, maybe we should swap."

me: (incredulously) "You want Dad to be against your relationship?"

Tom: "No, you date Eileen, and I'll date Simon. Then our parents will say, "Aiya! Swap back! It was better before!'"

me: [laughing]

Tom: "But Eileen might say, 'I don't want to swap! I like this way better.'"

Angry at self.

I am once again taking my body for granted and not sleeping enough. It's 3:45am and I'm working. I'm going to sleep 5 hours and then be incredibly tired and less productive tomorrow. What am I doing?