Category: Tasks

Morning routine. 

Monday. 7:44 a.m. Utopia.  

The smell of coffee roasting (soy latte, half sweet, non-fat, caramel drizzle, with extra shot dark espresso, at 120 degrees) and eggs benedict (with just the right amount of runny yolk, cream, and a sprinkle of salt, pepper, and a dash of paprika) waft deliciously in the air. Slices of rosemary foccacia turn in the oven, toasting to just the right amount of crispiness, before being buttered with garlic. Decorating the table, a bowl of fresh fruit cut into perfect cubes, crystalized in freshness, and a glass vase of red and pink carnations. The flowers never wilted, not even a little, and a new arrangement appeared every three days. Tasteful. 

Haven opens her eyes and gets out of bed at precisely 6:44 a.m. every day. The clock times it and knows her exact sleep cycle to help her wake up and wind down. It knows exactly how much sleep she needs. Exactly 45 seconds later, the blinds draw themselves open, revealing golden ribbons of sunlight streaming into her room. Birds tweeting on a branch, roofs glistening with morning dew. The speakers next to her begin to play morning classical. Exactly what she is in the mood for. The temperature is always just right. It’s always been sunny, for a long time now, every single day. She smiles as the top of her head is warmed by the rays of light. Just like how she likes her mornings.  

A man’s soothing voice greets her good morning at her bedroom door. She gives him a big hug, snuggling in his softness, her heart thumping in her chest, slight butterflies fluttering. It was just like the day she first saw him, human i.432, standing outside her porch, in the storm, exactly 370 afternoons ago. As he walks her to the dining room table, he tells her of the weather and the morning news, but skips the ones on devastating accidents, animals getting hurt, natural disasters, and violent crimes – anything that would ruin Haven’s beautiful morning. He specifically highlights events that have happened in places she has been before, subjects that she once had interest in, and topics that she briefly mentioned in passing – everything that would keep her updated in this world of information overload. He adds some inspirational anecdotes, jokes, and motivational quotes into the mix, to keep Haven in a positive mindset and set her mood for the day. 

I had the pleasure to complete the User Inyerface game. Despite the minor frustrations that struck a small nerve, I actually quite enjoyed it and found the intentionally misleading design quirks to be surprisingly insightful after a deeper analysis.

In these Palladio visualizations, I was grouped in a community with four of my classmates based on our ten selections from the Golden Record task. I have filtered the graphs to focus on the community that I am in, as shown in the screen shots below.  

In this visualization, the nodes consist of the tracks that are selected by myself and the members in my community, and ourselves. The edges connect the members to the tracks they chose, and simultaneously intersects the members that chose the same tracks, creating a linking web of paths. Interestingly, the size of each track node reflects the number of members in the community who selected it. From the simple display of the graph, nodes, and edges, the links are nondirectional and unweighted. For the graph to be directional, it should depict that it is the individuals who chose the tracks. For it to be weighted, there should be a rationale for the connection between the two nodes (e.g. a reason for an individual to choose the track). 

Golden Record Tracklist (10):

1. “Symphony No. 5 in C Minor, Opus 67: I. Allegro Con Brio”by Ludwig Van Beethoven, performed by London Philharmonia Orchestra

2. “Sokaku-Reibo (Depicting the Cranes in Their Nest)” arranged by Kinko Kurosawa, Performed by Goro Yamaguchi

3. “Cengunmé (Percussion, Senegal)” by Mahi musicians of Benin by Charles Duvelle

4. “El Cascabel” by Lorenzo Barcelata, performed by Antonio Maciel and Los Aguilillas with Mariachi México de Pepe Villa

5. “The Fairie Round” by Anthony Holborne, performed by Early Music Consort of London

6. “Mariuamangi (Men’s House Song)” by Pranis Pandang and Kumbi of the Nyarua clan

7. “Ketawang: Puspåwårnå (Kinds of Flowers)” performed by Pura Paku Alaman Palace Orchestra

8. “The Magic Flute (Die Zauberflöte), K. 620, Act II: Hell’s Vengeance Boils in My Heart” by Wolfgang Amadeaus Mozart, performed by Bavarian State Opera Orchestra and Chorus

9. “Liu Shui (Flowing Streams)” performed by Kuan P’ing-hu

10. “Melancholy Blues” by Louis Armstrong and his Hot Seven

Transcript

 

In the home of my bag

Is a collection of items

Little pieces of me

Mingled and mixed

Rummaged through and handled

With urgence, sensitivity and relief

 

A set of notebooks and a pen

Humble and quiet at the bottom

Sleeping until I wake them up

To fill empty pages with memories and snippets

Of overheard conversations

 

Satchets of herbal tea

Butterfly pea, lemon, osmanthus, and pear

Tangy aromatic blends of fruit and florals

A hug shaped in my palms

Quenching thirst

And refreshing my senses

 

A wallet

A sanctuary, a treasure trove of my identity

Zipped safe with my cards and coins

Expired coupons

Faded receipts

A lucky charm

And polaroids of the ones dear in my heart

 

Bandaids and painkillers

To give me a pat on the head

A healing hand

To say, “it’s ok” to my clumsy self

To alleviate, soothe, and relieve

For me to spread the calm

Softening the rough edges

Of salted pain and bittered blood

To others in need

 

Hand cream

To wrap my hands

With a blanket of hydration

A mirror, lipbalm, and perfume

To give me a nod,

to say, “you look good”

To envelop me with a honeyed breeze

Of rose and lemon and geranium and mandarin

Fragrant and lingering

 

Packets of tissues and cooling wipes

Conquering the Hong Kong heat

With a multitude of abilities

Unfolding strong sheets of strength

Silent but works just as vigorously

 

Phone and earphones

Two extra limbs on my body

No other words needed

 

And to fight the pandemic and

To keep me safe

Floating and clinging by touch

From the air of invisible threats

An assembled army of surgical masks and hand sanitizer

Of alcohol spray and wipes

Often surrendered and feverishly replenished

Their sacrifices not in vain

An Emoji Story

Process 

For this task, I used an emoji keyboard to type out the emojis. Spacing was key. Instead of plotting the emojis line after line, like a paragraph of text, I made the story visual. As Bolter (2001) stated, “the buttoned style is about writing with images rather than words” (p. 72). The document became a canvas for these images, instead of a page off a word processor. The blank canvas blurred the edges between the medium and the setting. Each space is intentional; they represent a new scene, a new day, a new character introduced, the distance between characters, a change in setting, or the insertion of dialogue or thought.  

I made potato stamps to print the word, “C-L-O-U-D.” I tried my very best to get accurate and clear results with the two copies.  

Process 

I used two potatoes, a toothpick, and a knife to create the stamps. Before carving, I made stencils of my letters on a sheet of paper, because that would help guide the carving. I used a toothpick to poke holes around the stencils and into the potatoes, and then carved by connecting the dots (holes). The stamps themselves would look better too, as there will not be any residue pen marks. 

I used blue paint to stamp the letters onto the paper, but it took many tries to get a clear result. For the second copy, I used a ruler to measure the exact distance between each letter (vertically and horizontally) in the first copy so I could adjust the position of the stamps to match. I thought of this method because I already knew from the first attempt that it is difficult to align the stamps because you cannot see exactly where you are stamping on the page (blocked by the back of the potato). The entire process took about 2.5 hours. 

This story is about a recent dream I had, which still lingers in my brain in vivid, jewel-like tones. The events of the dream were simple and unfolded quickly within a luxurious, velvety hotel room. My three friends and I booked a room for a few nights vacation (“a staycation” in the city where we reside) during the COVID-19 pandemic. An incredibly exquisite buffet dinner was served on an endlessly long mahogany table in our room. I reenacted my account of this dinner event and the seemingly conscientious decisions made during the meal. I then briefly reflected on what this dream could have meant.    

The full transcript is under the cut. I used speechnotes as my voice-to-text generator.

After viewing Prof. Lera Borditsky’s SAR lecture, I found myself relating to her insight and findings. My reflections stem from my lived experiences and the nature of my cultural upbringing and social surroundings. I grew up in a bilingual English and Cantonese speaking household, and I have consistently studied a number of foreign languages as a child and throughout my academic career. I would say that I had a profound interest in learning languages, and was fascinated by the different perceptions and windows of thought that seemed to change across different languages. People from different cultures and speaking different languages experience the world and distinguish their feelings differently. I likened it to having various levels of a sensory palate.  

I once had a teacher who told me that language is the eye to culture. This notion was ingrained in my memory since then, and I was humbled by the many experiences, and to relive the world through these various perspectives. Not only are beliefs, customs, traditions, and history revealed through language and etymology, but there are also the metaphors of life that are only understood by that culture. I often codeswitch between English and Cantonese, and I would often wonder why some words and expressions cannot be translated. I would wonder why a word with a positive connotation in one language would have a negative connotation in another, and why some words have “hidden meanings” and associations unbeknownst to the learner. I also struggled with learning languages with grammatical gender – as Prof. Borditsky’s best explained, there is no rhyme or reason for the assignation of these genders. I had to rely on my memory in French and Spanish to understand the lack of pattern in grammatical genders, which is a concept that does not exist in the languages I spoke.  

As a language learner and writer who often dealt with translated poetry and prose, the lost in translation phenomenon is truly intriguing to me. I found the case of translating creative writing to be severely affected by mistranslations. The beauty, tenacity, and visceral-ness of a poem or literature in one language, cannot easily be captured by a translation in another. The motives, attitude, and personality of a character and their actions might be perceived differently in another language. These inconsistencies and the notion that we perceive the world through the language could cause inaccuracies in the piece of work. It might cause frustration for the original author, translator, and reader, because the piece, no matter how well translated, may have some particular aspects, sometimes in detail, and sometimes coming in rippling waves, lost in between the lines of language. Where does this lost meaning go, shadowed by the translation?

Bag Contents (from left to right, top down)

Line 1: agenda, three notebooks, black gel pen, scrapbook, three pouches, butterfly pea flower lemon tea leaves, osmanthus pear tea leaves 

Line 2: two masks, packet of tissues, alcohol swabs, hand sanitizer, spray bottle of isopropyl alcohol, mandarin rind and rosemary handcream, maison marigela eau de toilette (under the lemon tree), tinted lip balm, claw hairclip, zippered pouch 

Line 3: cooling body wipes, antibacterial handwipes, isopropyl alcohol wipes, painkillers, Vaseline, bandaids, geranium leaf hand wash, grapefuit rind body lotion, compact mirror, Airpods, coin purse, iPhone X, scrunchie, wallet, resusable bag 

***