It’s breakfast time on the low wooden coffee table, where there’s a tatami style windowsill seating, without the tatami but with two circular thin cushions.
I’m poking at the soft milky egg whites into the creamy yolk, stacking the salty prosciutto onto crisp watery cucumber slices and stuffing them in mouth at once. We’ve had this same breakfast yesterday too.
In background, plays the preliminary hearing.
]]>After what went down at the office last night, even the mayor deemed it necessary for me to take a step back, reassess my reasoning, stop fighting a predetermined game, and focus on what’s important to build for myself.
Do they think I’m sticking around to win stupid prizes? Guess we’d have to wait and read.
#typhoonbreak
]]>Any man can make mistakes, but only an idiot persists in his error
― Marcus Tullius Cicero
also quoted in Amanda Knox, documentary (2016) by the Italian authorities.
]]>Circles represent wholeness, completion, and infinity—concepts that align with AI’s promise. They’re also friendly and non-threatening, qualities companies desperately want to project when selling potentially job-replacing technology.
]]>(A) deal with trainees?
(B) perform public shaming??
(C) catch a flawed thought in action???
(D) simulate false sense of power and hierarchy????
(E) stimulate fear and insecurity?????
Trust me I like a socratic debate, brainstorm and problem solving, but creating a (fake) meeting to ensure I got things straight?
I thought you’d learnt your lesson last time around.
]]>We were gathered for an exclusive all-hands meeting, the first one since last year, when everything spiraled downhill despite desperate efforts to contain it. In self-deprecating terms, I was the cockroach left surviving.
While HR was right that I needed to talk to my boss about whether I deserved a raise, she was dead wrong in assuming that rankings, promotions, and secret assessments had ever been delivered transparently with accessible documentation. In fact, tx jokingly admitted this was likely the first time anyone actually knew what their official titles were, let alone the vague corresponding responsibilities.
“Well, it’s not that important anyway. We are very flatly structured.”
To set the record straight:
Annual performance reviews happen at the EOY, where the direct manager evaluates an entire year’s work and hands down a final grade (I’m sorry, where?). On the other hand, mid-year goal-setting can trigger compensation adjustments, which are evaluated against the following criteria:
tx explained the company only began mid-year adjustments the year before, and it wasn’t meant to be public info. Apparently, treating July’s payday like a blind box is completely normal procedure since they aren’t exactly going to demote your pay.
“In fact a few of you got pleasant surprises last year,” tx noted, looking around the room.
Someone raised her hand, “What if I don’t want surprises? I’d rather know exactly how I performed, so I have metrics to improve on.” Girl, exactly.
I then shot my hand up to ask about X planning and what happens when the cycle ends.
“It will likely be phased out completely—ensuring newbies aren’t missing out on tax benefits for too long—but it’s being taken care of for those who already have it.”
This begged the question: Do I even get a chance to negotiate fight for it now that the terms have shifted to one cycle per year? It was literally part of my initial hiring package, and right now, it feels a lot like a disguised salary reduction if I keep quiet.
Family road-trips:
FlexBus (I swear never again):
U/S Bahn to get away from Bochum:
I’ve made banana bread countless times with a success rate somewhere in the 15- 20% range, depending on the definition of success–for me, it is the rise. Back in high school, I fell hard for the “Free the Ingredients” movement, completely convinced that certain foods were inherently toxic to the human body, and aspired to become the next rising vegan, GSA-free¹ baker on the internet.
I replaced AP flour with oats by pulsing them until the blender heated up with smoke, soaked chia seeds to the consistency of goopy frog eggs, and replaced sugar and butter with half a jar of honey and almond butter. I once had the bright idea of adding shredded zucchini for extra fiber, skipping the crucial step of wringing it out because I was too lazy to wash a cheesecloth. Oblivious to the foreseeable consequences of an overly wet batter, I strayed away from pound cake and bread recipes until I regained the courage to toy with the ingredient list again.
To some, I was an ambitious and overly confident baker. I would eyeball measurements, place full trust in US customary cups, and fluidly interchange between sour cream, cream cheese, heavy cream, and Greek yogurt depending on what was available. I also never bothered to differentiate between baking soda and baking powder. I would toss in a teaspoon and move on to the next step, entirely unaware of the difference between a chemical requiring an acid catalyst and a self-contained leavener.
My banana bread usually turned out like an awkward cross between 蘿蔔糕 and 發糕². “At worst, it’d be like fudgy, chocolate-oozing brownies, right?” Nooo, the loaves were gummy and pocketed with tiny, trapped air bubbles. It looked like cheese, just without any of the savoriness.
For obvious reasons, I am posting my ultimate chocolate banana bread recipe, so I don’t have to scrape the web trying to find a new one to experiment with.
You read me correctly, it will only rise halfway in the tin, cuz that’s how tall my LocknLock is. Double to your needs.
🫐 Cream together in a large bowl:
🫐 Mash on a plate:
🫐 Mix in with all the above:
🫐 Sift and mix WELL in a dry bowl:
🫐 Final fold in:
🫐 Bake at 175C for 45~60min.
Enjoy it warm with almond butter or chocolate spread!
Happy baking ੈ✩‧₊˚🥣
Ps. You don’t have to trust me, I got you.
I slit my vital right lifeline (cue dramatic music), while killing¹ off the ribbon fish Dad had delivered in between my Natal Chart readings with a colleague I had invited home for banana bread earlier in the afternoon. “Ouf, what a stringy sequence of events.” I hear you; stay put, shows on.
So was born the Lego-Hand, or as Dad calls it, the Queen’s Wave².
Armed with a pair of heavy-duty Korean kitchen shears, I made two diagonal cuts behind the head down to the gills, then sliced the belly open starting from the vent hole (the one stained yellow). With one firm tug, the head came away cleanly, taking the membrane and the entire track of innards with it. Perfect! All that remained was using the blade’s edge to scrape away the silver, paste-like scales.
Just as I gripped the slimy torso, the fish got its revenge: its sharp fin sliced right across my palm. As the dirty water seeped into the cut, a sharp sting flared up, and I genuinely thought the fish had poisoned me as its final strike!
DUN DUN DUNNN!
I rushed to rinse with water, then applied Povidone-iodine, which had expired in 2020, as if that made any difference³. Thankfully, no blood appeared, otherwise I would’ve fainted right there. As it turned out, the fin had only grazed the surface of my thick skin, leaving a scratch—a mere centimeter wide and a millimeter deep. “Phew.”
Like every other time I hurt a leg, arm, or hand, I see the importance of having all four limbs intact and (a brain) fully functional.
| [Donald Trump’s Endgame | The Tim Dillon Show #501](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CC6S25XJ0Ks) |