13 May, 2008
Whom should the IP belong to?
01:35:24 | Little Things, Ranting | 
writebacks (11)
Before taking on a project in collaboration with a certain unnamed company, yours truly has to apparently, sign a declaration/agreement form stating that all the products of my hard work during the course of the project will not belong to me, but to the company.
I’m a little miffed about this.
Was told that this is common practice among all companies out there, which further fuels my displeasure of working for any company in the future.
Niceeee.
So this is how companies work. They hire (or hold collaborations with) people, squeeze their creative juices out of them until there’s almost none left, force them to sign over all their ideas to the company such that it no longer becomes their own intellectual property, and the people are left high and dry once everything is over.
Forced to keep mum, can’t reuse the same ideas for even their own projects, not even when they rightfully came up with those ideas themselves in the first place.
So this practically means that we slog like hell behind our laptop screens 24/7, plus the potential several all-nighters we “should be expected” to pull - only to have the company have all the recognition while we are left with zilch.
What do we have to show our hard work?
We cannot keep the programming code, graphics or any amazing cool shit we come up with during the project. (Everything belongs to the company, remember?) So when this whole thing blows over, all we have is a blank screen - oh, and perhaps a grade.
One may argue that the knowledge and experience gained during the project far supercedes the final product. But the final product is representative of the hard work, sweat, tears put we put into building it. It’s the hallmark of the project experience; having something solid that you can keep, and occasionally glance at so that you can rekindle that wow, I did that?!? kind of feeling.
Imagine a few years down the road;
“What did you do for your Final Year Project?”
“(Insert vague description here - can’t reveal too much top secret information, remember?)” says I.
“Oh wow, sounds fantastic! Do you have a little preview?”
“Oh yes, I do. Here you do, a blank screen.”
With this particular project my group and I are (most likely going to) delve into, I am very sure that a fair amount of creative juices will be pumped into it (and it’s already brain wrecking enough just to figure out how to prettify this concept further), and I am very much likely to come up with a whole assortment of enhancement ideas during the course of this one.
And everything goes to the company.
Ah well, have to sign the damn form anyway - whether I like it or not. At least we will have a teensy bit of recognition (that is, if you count being referred to as “a student team from SMU” as recognition).
One thing I know for sure - we are definitely allowed to put this in our resume, which will sparkle oh-so brightly especially if we complete this project well, which is the big fat blaring positive reward for this whole thing.
Okay, now to brainstorm for more ideas. (Which will go to the company. :()
09 May, 2008
Guess who got locked in the toilet?
23:59:03 | Daily Life, People, Ranting | writebacks (9)
Aunt Olive treated part of the extended family to dinner at The Billard Room & Bar, Raffle’s Hotel this evening.
Buffet was adequate - seafood was good (didn’t break out into a rash or anything so I doubt I’m allergic to seafood as initially suspected), but the other dishes were more or less crap. Cousin David and I binged on the salmon sashimi (we’ve a weakness for it) and dessert. (David dove for the assortment of chocolates whereas I got myself addicted to the macaroons.)
Oh, I have pictures as well.
Anyway, before I begin to address the story at hand (I’m sure you’re all wondering who got locked in the toilet!), have an err … tiny rant.
I get miffed when relatives make remarks such as “you should dress like this more often” whenever I show up in something that I don’t usually wear.
(Strangely, friends who do the same thing don’t bother me as much.)
Like today for instance - I wore a dress to the family dinner. And everyone behaved as if the sky was going to fall down since well, I’m strictly a jeans/shorts + tee kind of person.
Then came the most annoying phrase - “You should dress like this more often.”
First of all, I do not put anyone in any position to tell me how I should dress, thank you. Secondly, you liking what you see doesn’t mean that I always have to dress like this … to please you.
So, when I shook my head firmly - no, they become all anguished and go “But whyyyyyyyy? You look nice like this! You’d REALLY ought to blah blah blah.”
I don’t believe I owe you an explanation for my choice of apparel, do I?
Okay, end of rant - back to the story at hand.
Following the dinner we proceeded to my aunt’s hotel room in the neighbouring Fairmont Hotel. (She booked a place there since she had a voucher entitling her to a free room after she joined their membership programme.)
Decent place, lovely view and the toilet was like whoa - white, classy and modern. (Although I can’t quite decipher why did they choose to have so many spotlights and mirrors in the bathroom. After all, it is supposed to be a bathroom, not some stage.)
Cousins settled on the bed with their eyes glued to the television set, while the adults settled at a nearby table for a round of cards.
That was when I decided to use the toilet. (For obvious reasons.)
Closed the door, latched it, did whatever I had to do, washed hands and then proceeded to unlock the door and get out.
The last two steps failed.
Stupid door refused to unlock. The stupid latch was jammed in place.
That was when I yelped, and sent everyone outside scurrying over to the toilet door. (At least, that was what I thought - because all of a sudden, I heard a lot of talking and footsteps outside my door.)
Then, I heard Aunty Olive yell.
“OH SHIT! I FORGOT TO TELL BRENDA NOT TO LOCK THE DOOR! THE LOCK IS SPOILT!”
Now, she tells me.
More murmurings could be heard from outside and I heard that apparently - my cousin David had been locked in this very same bathroom in the afternoon, and all efforts at prying the door open using normal means failed. Engineers had to be called in to force the door open with a screwdriver.
My Uncles then began using metal spoons to open the door in a similar fashion - but failed. The stupid door just refused to open.
Housekeeping was called to report the issue.
Ten minute later, no one had arrived and I was starting to get really agitated. (Yes, I know that the toilet is all modern and classy and all, but I wouldn’t like to be stuck there for an extended period of time with nothing to do except for when I need to have a good shit, thank you.)
Uncles continued to fiddle with the door, and even my mum and my grandmother attempted to have a go at attempting to open the door. Of course - likewise, all attempts failed.
Housekeeping was called again.
Still, no one arrived. Those bums were taking their own sweet time to tend to this issue.
Cousin David attempted to keep me company from outside the door (and likewise, also attempting to pry the lock loose), but it’s hard to have a normal conversation with someone when you can’t even see his face. (Perhaps the reason why I hate phone conversations.)
Then, one of my relatives dialed for the manager.
The doorbell rang within five minutes. More footsteps were heard as my relatives scurried over to the door. Then, I heard someone jiggling the handle, sounds of scraping metal and the next thing I knew - the door flew open.
Unfortunately, that’s not the end of the story.
05 May, 2008
Unveiling suppressed memories.
00:57:11 | Ranting, Thoughts | writebacks (3)
Been thinking a lot recently.
And unfortunately, thinking too much isn’t good - because I find myself getting angry at things that happened many years ago.
People who know and fully understand me (I can only name a few whom I completely bare my true self to - Terra, Grace, Liz, Mithi and Steffe) would know very well that I am someone who is extremely protective of my personal identity and image, and fiercely proud of who I am.
Unfortunately, it also means that I may pick on any harmless remark as an insult to my character, as some people may have experienced first hand. Still trying to change this aspect, because I actually start to frighten everyone away.
However, there are some things that dwindle in my mind far too often.
If you must know, yes - I bear grudges. I can hold a grudge against a person for years and years, and it’ll be a long time before I can become truly close to that person all over again. I may still behave all chummy with that person, though I keep a distance from them emotionally.
I don’t bear grudges over small little nitty gritty things.
Which means that if it so happens that any unpleasant encounter stays in my memory to an extent that it can be replayed so vividly - with the propensity of igniting anger in me all over again, it means that the person involved has gone too far.
I shall not name all of these encounters, although I may relate a couple most distinct ones.
The idiot who lectured me on my choice of course sometime in mid 2005. Someone who barely knows me and still dares to question my choice of future career, insinuating that I am not fulfilling my duty of caring for my parents in the future just because I am choosing a future based on my own happiness rather than one that makes the most money. The idiot who insisted that everyone should be going into medicine just because doctors make the most money, and that IT is just a rubbish course that will soon be going down the drain because the IT industry is dying and blah dee blah.
The entire paragraph above, ladies and gentlemen - came out in less than one minute, which explains the extent of my fury.
That idiot has known me for barely half an hour, and already he is flinging insults like nobody’s business. The best part - he wishes to debate on the future of the IT industry? Sure, I am willing to take him on. However, I don’t see how a one-sided speech can be considered a debate. Each time I tried to get a word in, he’d simply cut me off and accuse me for not listening to whatever logic he’s trying to drill in my head. Like seriously, what the fuck?
Materialistic, money-minded bastard.
I’ll have you know that having more interest and fulfillment in the path I choose to take, to me, means that all the more I’ll be willing to do my job well, which drives my determination to fight my way to the top. In fact, I am so happy with my life (and my achievements thus far) in my choice of course right now, that I’m very tempted to hunt that person down just to go “PAH!” in his face.
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