You Can't Make Mistakes.

No headline will suffice today

So, for those of you who I didn’t call up in the middle of the night ecstatically or bomb your e-mail inbox with the news: I have an internet connection in my apartment.

It was the strangest thing. Yesterday, people were knocking on the door all day. I was getting a little fed up with it after a while, but then some courier showed up with a box. Inside the box was a magical internet connection device that I thought I would never see.

I swiftly phoned the internet company, which had told me several weeks before that we would be delayed by another month. This sent me into a tailspin of anxiety and I had to undergo some therapy for it.

The man on the other end of the phone said, “Yes, Mr. John, I have some good news for you! Everything is working and you need to call tech support and they will set you up.” I was chomping at the bit at this point. I tore into the box that contained the router as though it were filled with some sort of addictive substance that I had a long history with. I called the tech support and waited while he walked me through a process that I can do in my sleep, but the net result was that at the end of the phone call I was actually reading my e-mail.

My e-mail! In my apartment! I was so grateful. It took me hours to remember that this was not amazing in any way. This should have been as simple as a phone call waiting a week or two at the outside. My head was not spinning from the efficiency and deftness of the customer service and support of TEData. In addition, I am moving to a different city in a month and a half and will have to go through the same nightmare again somewhere else. I refuse to think about all of this right now, as I would rather bask in the radioactive glow of my hard drive as it melts from overuse.

I was so overjoyed that I was able to finally download gigantic files at my leisure, listen to NPR online, aggregate podcasts, update and reinstall my operating system, and yes, finally update my blog software.

The OS upgrade was frigging sweet. I had done the patch upgrade before at a friend’s house with internet, but it isn’t the same as sitting down, making your peace with God, and reformatting your laptop. Again.

So I did that last night. It was nice. It also gave me the chance to completely rid my system of Windows, which I hadn’t used in 6 months but still had on another drive partition wasting precious hard-disk space. I have a fully open-source laptop now.

Today, then, I will spend upgrading my blog software. This could go one of two ways: 1. Without a hitch. 2. I will spend ten hours attempting to get things back to the way that they were before, so that they just work.

This second possible eventuality is unlikely, but also somehow inevitable. I can’t explain this properly, but thankfully, someone else already has done the job. Please refer to the following XKCD comic for a complete explanation: http://xkcd.com/349/.

Regardless, I would be thrilled to spend an entire day staring at code attempting to sort out just what went wrong before totally losing my mind and being reduced to a wrecked, sobbing heap on the carpet. It is something that I haven’t been able to do in months and months, and even the opportunity makes me smile inside.

Ahh, it’s good to be back on the internet.

At least there will be a lot of cockroaches to rebuild the place.

Well, some sort of new scandal has erupted at the TAFL Center here at Alexandria University and I seem to be somewhere near the center of it.

As if it weren’t bad enough that my classes here are a waste of time and quite a lot of money, now I have been dragged into some sort of political war between Universities and academics. This is not a particularly pleasant place to be. I am attempting right now to get my exam moved up so that I can be done with this place and move to Cairo.

There is also, it seems, a problem with the “contract” that I have for my apartment. I decided that it would be best to just leave and sort out the details later. Ask for forgiveness, not permission. You will be more likely to receive it.

Alas, this was not the way that it went down.

My roommate decided that we should do things in the proper way, and attempt to negotiate canceling the contract. This was a mistake. At first, I was going to attempt to find someone to replace me in the apartment. This didn’t work out as expected. Another snag was that the landlords agreed to get the internet working for us, since it has been three months and I am still without an in-home internet connection.

So, now we are being told that we cannot cancel the contract. Of course. I am not worried about this. It will all work out in the end. I am going to have a lawyer look at the contract and then we will see what we can do.

Meanwhile, back at the TAFL center. I have been ditching class a bit because I can’t justify sitting there and staring at the walls while I could be in the library researching or writing. I am sure that this is not good, but at this point, I am learning more from the novels that I am reading while not in class than I am from the pedantic, rudimentary grammar lessons and the recitation of lists of vocabulary. So, at the end of the say, I can’t say that I care very much. I will do what I have to do at this point to get my work done and get something out of this experience, even if that means completely disregarding the structure of the institution that I have stepped into. This will come as no surprise to those of you who know me well, as you should well expect such behavior on my part.

Suffice it to say, I am extremely and increasingly unhappy and I am not sure how to sort it out except to wait it out, take my exam, and leave. I have been nearly convinced, at some points, however, that coming here, to this particular school was such a grave mistake that I will be unable to correct it. Maybe I will though. Time will tell.

In the mean time, I will attempt to be more positive about the positive aspects of my situation. Above all, I am learning a great deal, just not in a very structured way. This is my preferred mode, of course, but it is harder. I rest assured that I will look back at this fondly, when we are all much older, and frustrations are long lost to the depths of my memory.

with contributing investigative reporter Amanda Wood

Some wizards just don’t know what is good for them

There is a phenomenon here in Egypt whereby the porters in blocks of flats are very involved in the lives of the tenants of the buildings in their care. This is the story of one such porter by Amanda Wood, investigative correspondent in Alexandria.

“Having made the acquaintance of the porters in our building, we noticed a cheeky element in the character of our night porter,” says Amanda, lighting a cigarette. “Upon further discussion, my flatmate, myself, and our guests uncovered his secret.”

The porter in question, it was determined, was not a porter at all. Rather, he was a defunct wizard whose powers had been suspended for a few hundred years. As it turns out, he had a tendency to play pranks on lesser mortals. One such prank ended in the suicides of hundred of Vodafone customers when he convinced them that there were tiny people trapped in their phones.

This infraction was too much for the High Wizarding Tribunal. they summarily stripped him of his wizarding powers and set him up as a porter in a block of flats in Moharrem Bey, Alexandria. He was left with only the ability to control the actions of the cats living near the block. This has resulted in a great deal of inexplicable cat dancing in the street in front of the building.

At first, this was amusing and provided explanation for a great deal of odd goings on in the building, such as power cuts, phones not working, elevators sticking between floors, and the inability of anyone to ever find the address. It seems that the Wizard Porter had not learned his lesson and was up to his old tricks.

“We at first found comfort in the fact that we had an ex-wizard as a porter with contacts in the High Wizarding Tribunal seeing as we are two young women away from our homes and families,” muses Amanda. “Unfortunately, upon the departure of my blonde flatmate—as blonde, it seems, is #&*%ing currency amongst Alexandrian men—he has turned his hand away from simple pranks and innocent goings-on to all out nosy interfering in my day to day life. As a woman of Middle-Eastern origin I am not unaccustomed to the standards to which women are expected to conform. Indeed I have been a model of modesty and good behaviour [sic - Amanda is British]. After all, when in Rome… and in my case, Rome is not that far from home.”

It turns out that as the porter’s frustration over the removal of his wizarding powers deepened, he became increasingly interested in controlling the minutiae of the everyday lives of his tenants. He apparently feels it is his duty, as a man, to protect the the interests, honor, reputations—indeed even chastity—of his young, impressionable female tenants and save them from their own evil ways and any temptation. “Someone of weaker character might assume that he had been paid to do so by certain male members of her family. However, upon further reflection, resting safely in the knowledge that all I say and do is fully endorsed by my family—including gallivanting off to the Middle-East to pursue deeper knowledge in the language and culture of my forefathers,” reflects Amanda. “However, to entertain such a ridiculous notion would do an grave injustice to the rational, modern, forward-thinking familial background I come from.”

Ultimately, Amanda has decided that the Wizard Porter is just a controlling prick. It seems that he simply cannot fathom the idea that a young, Western, woman of mixed-race origin from London—den of iniquity—could not possibly make decisions about her own comings and goings which would not lead to her inevitable demise.

“So bless his heart of solid gold,” Amanda exclaims, stubbing out her cigarette, “for taking time out of his busy and important life in order to see to my well-being. One would think that he wouldn’t have the time, what with having to deal with going before the High Wizarding Tribunal in order to have his powers reinstated. Just bless him.”

These are a couple of pieces that I have been cooking up for use in promotional materials by MYNLPResults.com, the NLP coaching practice of Mamoon Yusaf, based in London. These are examples set on different backgrounds to give a sense of how they will look when used in different settings.

I think that maybe once a week or so, I will refer you all to something that I read and love online so that you can read and love it as well.

This week, I shall refer you to the blog of Dr. Mona El-Farra called From Gaza, With Love. Mona lives in Gaza and writes about her life there. It is one of the most brilliant, illuminating, and heart-wrenching things online today.

I hope that you will enjoy it.

http://fromgaza.blogspot.com/

These are some images that I created for MY NLP Results, the NLP coaching practice of Mamoon Yusaf based in London.

These are some logo images that I created for the science-fiction radio show The Deuce Project on 89.1 WIDR in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

I have given up on ever using the internet in my home again.

Well, I know that this has been a recurring theme, but I still don’t have an internet connection in my apartment. After two months of waiting with one company I had to cancel the contract, as you may remember. Now, I have waited for another month with the second company because there was a hold-up involving a cancellation code from the first company not working.

Finally, I had the cancellation codes, everything was in order, I physically went to their offices to check on the status. They told me that they would be calling me early last week.

No call.

I called this Wednesday and was told that, “Oh yes. There is problem in the exchange in Sidi Geber.” This was the same thing that the first internet company told me two months ago. I went from zero to wild-eyed-lunatic in 4 seconds and began berating the human on the other end of the phone. He, of course, told me that the problem was not something that they could have forseen. I told him that I had had the same problem months before and he replied that he didn’t know anything about that because that is a different company, blah, blah.

I hung up totally demoralized. I have never been so frustrated in all my life. Then—perfect timing—my roommate got home and wanted to talk about the internet problem. I explained it to him, and also told him that we couldn’t talk about it anymore or I would have a stroke. This did nothing to deter him. We had to talk about it. He suggested that we move. I couldn’t deal with it and had to meet some folks for coffee, so I readied myself for the outside world and left.

I was going to a coffee joint right around the corner from my apartment. I began the short walk across the district and as I was walking past one of the many little gardens in Mustafa Kemal, a dog burst out of a hedge and started running toward me. I ran across the street because I fear dogs here. There is no telling if they have rabies or whatever. This did not deter the dog, it followed. I continued running, it followed, and was closing. I knew that I couldn’t outrun it, so I stopped and grabbed the first things that I saw, a half of a brick and a piece of 2×4 and chucked them at him. The 2×4 missed a bit. The brick hit him and he went down with yelp and then skulked off.

I felt terrible, even though he was chasing me and was probably all diseased. I hated that I hurt him. He wasn’t debilitated or anything, but clearly hurt.

I got to the coffee shop, visibly shaken, and explained what had happened to my friends. One of them is an NLP (Neuro-Linguistic Programming) coach, and he suggested that I let him fiddle around with my brain later that evening and he would try to remove the anxiety that I have about dealing with the internet problems.

I was desperate at that point and on the verge of developing a terrible Xanax problem because I have been taking it to stave off my burgeoning general anxiety disorder, so I agreed. We went back to his house and I let him open up my skull and poke around with my cognitive associations.

In about two hours he managed to rid me of the internet anxiety completely. After the first round, he asked me how I felt about having to deal with them and I just laughed my ass off. Whenever anyone says the word “internet” to me now I can’t control myself from smiling or even laughing out loud. It’s brilliant. Worked like a charm.

Also, since being here, I have developed a bad habit of watching terrible crime drama shows like CSI and Law and Order. So, I asked Mamoon to turn my desire to watch shit TV into a desire to get work, writing, and studying done.

This also worked like a charm. I can’t even look at a television now. If I even turn the TV on now, I can look at it for about five minutes before I get too antsy and have to turn it off and begin typing or reading or doing my homework. It is brilliant. However, the other night it turned on me.

We went to dinner and then coffee and afterward grabbed a cab. Some of the cabbies here have installed DVD players in their cabs to entertain their fares. This was one such cab, and the DVD screen was installed where the sun visor for the passenger side would have been. This was ridiculously uncomfortable for me. It was like having someone shove a television directly into my brain. Horrible. It made me very nervous, and I was pretty fitful for the next few hours while I studied furiously when I got home.

So, in the end, everything has worked out. I feel great, and am terribly motivated, even though I had to undergo the equivalent of psychological brain surgery. It works. I recommend it most highly.

In the meant time, Egypt hasn’t changed. It’s still the same. This is another lesson. I can’t change Egypt and Egypt can’t change me, but I can certainly change myself and become more adaptable. By hook or by crook, I suppose.

We’re shaking things up a bit, Egypt-style.

After nearly a semester here in Alexandria, I feel as though I haven’t accomplished nearly as much as I might have liked to. This is not for lack of trying. I have been met at every turn by roadblocks, bureaucracy, and—frankly—bullshit. I have had endless trouble getting an internet connection, upon which I depend for doing research, communicating, and more.

The library here, though a great resource, takes me a half-hour to get into every time I go, because I must check my bag, carry only what I predict that I will need, register my laptop with security, wait for lines of tourists through three stages of security, reserve a study room, and so on. Once inside, the books are there, and I can find the articles that I need from the JSTOR and Wilson archives online or in the stacks, but I can’t download them, or print them unless I use my laptop, which sometimes has trouble with the internet in the Library.

On top of that, the collection is still not fully processed, so they do not allow circulation yet, so the books stay in-house. You can copy anything you want, which the staff will do for you. This is very convenient, but you have to get your requests in early or you are SOL at the end of the day without the copies that you need.

My classes at the University in Arabic have been an utter joke. I learn more Arabic in the street than I do in class—of course, which is why I am here. The teachers are quite good and there is the odd session in which I learn something new. However, for the most part, the classes are mostly a rehashing of things that I learned years ago, none of which actually help you to read or speak any better. Rather than reading novels or newspapers in most of the classes, we sit for hours and go over lists of new vocabulary or undertake silly, fill-in-the-blank exercises on prepositions, adverbs, and verb conjugation.

Initially I thought that we were just doing a quick review session to get us ready to get to work. The quick review has drawn out over months, and this “intensive” course lacks any measure of intensity. I have one instructor who does make us do the things that I am looking for. For Dina’s media Arabic class, every week, we look at media pieces and then bring them to class and go over them as a group so that she can explain things that we may not have understood. We can listen to the news on the radio or television, read magazines and newspapers, or whatever we like.

This is the method by which I would prefer to be studying at this point. You can only learn so much grammar before it will simply not be of any use to you. You can know all of the grammar in the world and still not be able to read. This is a problem.

Again, the problem here has not been with the instructors, it is that they are not operating using any pedagogical model whatsoever, and the control over what they do teach us is coming from some sort of central authority, the pedagogical understanding of whom is entirely outdated.

So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I am going to finish out this semester in Alex and then move to Cairo and take classes at a little language school. I will not get credit for this, but will likely learn more. At the same time, I will be more able to get books that I need and be able to use the AUC (American University in Cairo) library for research. I think that it will all work out in the end, allowing me to take what is actually an intensive course in Arabic and thus giving me more time to work on other very important things like, say, my thesis. I have several chapters partially written right now, which I will finish over the coming holiday when I no longer have to spend 4+ hours a day wasting time sitting in useless classes.

It also will work to my advantage because I have a few good friends who live in Cairo who can show me the ropes that I don’t already know. It will also put me in closer proximity to tourist-type things that my friends want to see when the come to visit.

This move will likely occur in the first week in January. Wish me luck.

I am not going to actually write today. Rather, I will just refer you all on to an interesting article by one of my favorite bloggers, Scott Adams, the creator of the Dilbert comic series.

Link to “Why We Should All Become Muslims”

Enjoy.