did your cellphone date reset overnight?

i haven’t overslept in years.

i’ve struggled to get out of bed, and had to rush. but i haven’t, in many many years, woken up 15 minutes after i was meant to be at work… and that is what happened today.

the basic reason is quite simple: the alarm didn’t go off, because the “workday” repeated alarm doesn’t go off on a sunday.

And for some reason, the phone had the date, this morning (monday, 29 June 2009) programmed as “Sun 28.06.2009″.

iknow that on friday the date was correct, because the reminders went off as planned.

and i know that i didn’t reset the date.

so, did the vodacom network somehow reset the date on my phone? i didn’t think of this option seriously, until a colleague mentioned that her husband had the same thing happen…

is it possible for a cellphone network to change the date on a user’s handset?

is this a problem related to the nokia navigator i’m using?

my gut feel says “no”, but what is the explanation then…

bizarre…

RIP Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett

it is ingrained in me to support the underdog. the one who doesn’t get as much support or recognition as the others.

my instinct therefore is to make sure that the death of farah fawcett is not completely over-shadowed by that of michael jackson.

but i can’t keep it up for long. hell, if i’m honest, i probably wouldn’t actually have been able to tell you her name if i was shown a picture of farah before today. yet it seems almost unfair, somehow, doesn’t it?

but whether you looked his music or not (or should i say admitted it or not…) you have to admit he was instrumental in shaping the music industry as we know it, and has been the backing music to memorable moments for many many people.

i think of a friend’s wedding where i ‘caught’ the groom on video doing a solo dance for his bride on the dance floor to billie jean – so completely engrossed that he had become unaware of the wedding guests watching him.

he created memorable dance moves, great music videos, and excellent tunes. he was able to reinvent himself so many times in his long career. much like madonna, the variety in his music, his videos, his type of song, even his looks means he was constantly interesting.

his passing for the generation of 25 to 45 year olds must be as big as the passing of his ex-father-in-law elvis, or john lennon to previous generations. the big difference now, though, being the immediacy of the information. within minutes the world knew about it, and radio stations were playing his tunes. websites crashed with info-seekers. news websites without updates, historical overviews or pictures of crying fans were ignored and then quickly updated.

on my way home i could drive almost the whole way listening only to michael’s songs, just by switching between stations when a song ended. as i sit here writing this, i’m listening to german radio over the internet – one of the stations has an only-michael-jackson channel on the web. tv station personnel have been frantically putting together michael jackson specials to be aired this evening, the regular schedule being put on hold. as was the case with diana and the queen mother – the obits and specials had been written for the queen mum ages, but not for diana. were they sitting ready and waiting for the king of pop? or was there a quick scramble?

of course, the jokes started almost immediately as well – a strange human way of dealing with such matters. anything from turning him into lego to whether he will be cremated or recycled…

we shouldn’t really be surprised, should we…

south africa’s own satirical website, hayibo.co.za had this to say http://www.hayibo.co.za/articles/view/1071 – quite clever

his death doesn’t affect my life directly, but it really is very weird to realise every so often, that michael jackson is no more. that there will be no more songs, that he went so early.

rip michael, and farah

verbal assault with intend to do generational harm

beware, my ancestors, beware. she is onto us. she has vowed to catch me if she can. she swung her weapon to within a foot of me, and only quick dash into a chemist’s saved me. this time.

it started casually enough, shoppers perusing the wine shelf on a saturday afternoon, for the best wine within our respective budgets. i was looking at the reds, shiraz and merlot mainly, in a range of r35 to r40 a bottle. she was perusing the wines in the range of r60 to r70. a box.

as we perused away, she made casual conversation,”isn’t it scary how things just keep going up?”. a non-committal, non-verbal agreeing sound is all i made at that point. we were still 2 shoppers looking for an evening’s liquid.

it was only when she deftly recovered from an ever-so-slight stumble, hand already outstretched to grab my trolley handle, but not actually needing to, that my suspicions were first aroused. she quickly saved face by mentioning that the wine at the supermarket down the drag is cheaper, and that that is actually where we should be buying our wine.

i agreed verbally, knowing this to be a fact, and having found my choice of vino, moved on.

it was a few minutes later in the check-out queue that i was reminded of her presence, because i had actually already completely struck her from my consciousness. she sidled up to me, and in that practiced tone that we have all heard from time to time, casually mentioned that she was short of r10 for something she had bought on the other side of the shop, and would i be able to help her out.

as is usually the case with beggars, which she had now unmasked herself as being, i told her that i would unfortunately not be able to help her.

it was a mere minute later that i saw her at the next till with at least r70 worth of bank notes in her hand. cold hard cash.

it is this point that she would mark as the moment where i started the trouble.

standing next to my groceries, i asked her why she had begged me for cash when she clearly had so much in hand?

she did not take kindly to this, and told me that i should mind my own business. which i promptly did.

only problem is, this is not really what she wanted me to do. because she quickly decided that i needed to be told that i am a white bitch. this was delivered with some spittle exiting her mouth cavity.

i was caught between ignoring her and looking at her, and kept telling myself not to make eye contact. because each time i glanced up, it would set her off again – pointing a finger at me, yelling over the poor cashier, that i was a white bitch, and who did i think i was and that we had been slave owners and ,”you can’t do that anymore!”. That she would get me, that my people were evil and who did I think I was. and. and.and she was really upset and working herself up more and more, shouting louder and louder.

not liking this scene very much, i decided that i best keep quiet and ignore her.

she then promptly announced that she would be waiting for me outside the store. and walked away.

my mind raced to work out what the various exit options were from this store, while trying surreptitiously to keep a beady eye on her whereabouts.

while the cashier apologized, and the shopper in front of me lamented that she almost gave that woman some money, i saw her speak to a man not far away, but then disappear.

i took my bag and walked towards the exit – and promptly saw her walking towards me. with 3 of her male friends in town. i quickly kept my head down, hoping she would not notice me while in discussion with her friends, but no sooner had i passed them by maybe a foot or two, i heard a loud, “there’s he, the bitch!” yelled behind me.

and it was only through ducking into the side door of a pharmacy that her bag missed hitting me. she didn’t follow me in there, and to the stares of several shoppers, shop attendants and the i-almost-gave-her-money-shopper from earlier, i walked out the front door – being sure to check left and right in case she had decided to run around.

i suppose maybe i should have stood up to her, but you never know how she is going to lash out, especially when her 3 compadres are with her, and there was no security to speak of.

so, shoppers, beware the sweet lady with the scar on her upper lip and the booze on her breath, for she may just insult you and your heritage.

which of your senses?

if you had to give up one of your senses, which would be the most difficult one to lose?

for me, taste or touch would be the easiest; the difficult choice comes with being blind, deaf or mute. it’s a tough choice to decide between one of those 3.

it probably boils down to a match between hearing the laughter of someone you love versus being able to look into their eyes. hearing the flow of water over a rock, versus seeing a beautiful waterfall… tough choice.

i saw the movie blindness last night, and i think it helped me decide that i would rather lose my hearing than my vision. there is still so much you can do, see, experience, which becomes difficult when you’re blind. you can still read, appreciate beautiful nature and watch rain run down a pane of glass.

it is movie that is disturbing in parts, especially seeing how human interaction is depicted as changing when the government of the time reacts to people randomly going blind. only one person remains sighted. it is both disturbing and absolutely fascinating.

i’d surely miss hearing all my favourite sounds – and there is certainly not enough emphasis given to aural favourites. but please let me keep my vision.

which sense would you least like to lose, and why?

cape talk radio – it’s back!

i’m so happy… after 2 months of owning my new (second hand) car, i can finally listen to cape talk again it really is my preferred station while driving, and i’ve missed it.

my car didn’t have an aerial, so there was very poor reception (except on rqiny days on the freeway… honestly…). it’s strange, because every single golf 3 cabriolet i test drove before buying this one, did not have an aerial. it’s like there’s an aeriel thief out there with a golf cabriolet fetish…

and the even better part is that i asked them to check the air conditioning and give me a quote on fixing that. i’d had a quote of R5000 previously, to replace the condenser and a pipe of some sort.

but this guy tightened the pipe, re-gassed it and has it working 100% for under R500. bonus!

and just in time for winter, too.

has education become so bad?

i have the joy of looking after our students at work – something i really do enjoy it. most of the time.

i had an e-mail from a german client last week, who sells south africa as a destination, expressing surprise that it is winter in south africa now. “because we’re going into summer, and it’s nice and warm”.

umh…

so i put it to the students. did they know which season it is in germany at the moment? they replied with that hesitant uttering of a word, the one you want to let out slowly so that you can swallow it quickly if you sense that it is wrong. so that if the lecturer’s face begins to show signs of disagreement, you can take it back, unuttered, and give the opposite, correct answer.

so it was that ‘”s-s-sum-m-mer…?” slowly edgedd out. i agreed and asked them “why?”

more confidently came the answer this time – “because of the time difference.” smile.

i can live with that (only just, but i can). the world is not everyone’s cup of tea.

this week i asked for an indication of the GDP per person for various countries. I was told that they couldn’t find that, but they have got it per capita.

i can even (just) live with that.

but when the number representing the area of a country (1.212.912 square km) is read out as “one comma two one two comma nine one two square kilometres” or when someone is physically not able to read out the number 244′908, because they don’t know where to start, then i struggle with that.

i really really do.