Guide to living the happy life: Finding the perfect match

I wanted to dedicate this post to all my 30 something brothers who are successful in life, but have fallen in love with themselves, actively rejecting all the wonderful ladies surrounding them. Still single, ready to mingle and party like they are 21.

Single moms. Next time when I drink something fancy, I would like to make a toast for all the single moms out there. I think they are absolutely amazing. Raising a child alone in addition to all the mandatory life tasks such as working a full time job, taking care of your parents, not missing out on social life and partying quite a few times a month simply seems an impossible mission for a single person. I am absolutely sure that I do not and will not possess that capability today or in the future.

As much as I respect and adore them, I find it sad that the fact there are already so many single moms in my social circle. Marriage is a responsibility and a commitment. No child deserves to grow up in a broken family.  But yet, it seems to be such a common practice in Mongolia.

So I wanted to share these 3 easy steps to prevent this specific “situation”.

1. Contraceptives

2. Salt-water solutions

3. Abstinence

…..

….

…

Ahem. The three easy steps was a joke. Of course.

But finding the right person for you is not.

Some of my friends call me a serial monogamist. I am not going to lie. I am. I have been vilified for the fact that I spent my past four birthdays with four different people. Even my father jokes about it. But, is it really considered a crime against humanity? I hope not. We are all explorers by nature. After all, the journey of finding the right person is exhausting, nerve wrecking, heart breaking and time consuming. Except for the lucky few - I salute you. For the rest, it is a game of hide and seek. It is prisoner’s dilemma. It’s jumanji.

The bottom line is that you keep on looking for the right person until you find one. When I first signed up for this journey, I never wanted to hurt someone or to be hurt myself. But it happens nevertheless, one way or another. I have seen lovers turn into enemies. I have seen strong men cry in bathrooms. I have seen people fall down on their knees. I have seen friends being lost in life without barely any hope. I have seen guys drink excessive amounts. I have seen girls eat tons of ice cream and cake. In the end, whatever may have happened, we all get up, walk forward and keep on looking for the right person. Again. And again.

I wouldn't necessarily call myself lucky, but I have been through enough to be a poor man’s hitch. And I think there is a formula for identifying your perfect match and sticking with him/her. While the formula is not guaranteed, my findings are unisex (but I am a guy).

1. Appearance, not really

The concept of beauty differs from people to people. There is no predefined concept of beauty. (Even though guys tend to have a uniform view on ‘hotness’. Don’t worry girls, smart guys don’t marry the hot ones. We leave it to the assholes. To learn more, read the Wikipedia article on Natural Selection) One can find beauty in virtually everything. Beauty is timeless if you know what you are looking for.

2. Trust, a must

Trust seems to play a significant role in building a stable relationship, maintaining happy family and staying away from a miserable life. I am not against a healthy dose of jealousy, but too much can make one’s life a burning hell. Goes both ways. People got to be smart, learn to trust and be patient. If trust is broken, try to fix it – do not act on impulse or personal ego. In the end, it will be worth it. Especially if you have offspring.

3. Perfection? Are you 16?

One need to accept the fact that no one is perfect. Forget about the fairy tales that you have been brainwashed growing up. I repeat, no one is fucking perfect. We need to learn to accept the little wrongdoings and imperfections. It is what makes us unique… and a human... and lovable.

3. Mutual respect, YO

Yo, you gotta respect, yo. You got to respect your significant other. It includes respecting his/her past, present and future. It includes respecting his/her familia; mother, father, sibling(s), the annoying cousin or that distant relative who doesn’t shower. You must respect each other’s dream. And friends, of course. You can either disagree, argue, complain, not be a big fan of, be offended or PMSing, but you gotta be always respectful, yo. Respect everything. If you can’t you ain’t perfect for each other. But again, do not abuse this term – respect.

4. Intellectual curiosity (IC)

I talk a lot about this to my friends. In case if you are wondering what intellectual curiosity means, it is a combination of the following: intelligent + curious. Sadly, this is not applicable to a lot of people and at times people lack either or both. It should be like the basic requirement to be human. I think beautiful people attract beautiful people. Same goes for the intellectually curious ones. If you do not consider yourself IC or cannot find one, please refer back to the article on Natural Selection. For my case, I have proven this theory on myself over and over again. I need a person who share the same intellectual curiosity – a person whom I can talk for hours and still realize there are so much more we can talk about and learn from each other. A person who understands my deeply dark humor.

5. Do you see “us” in 10 year?

Do you? If yes please keep on doing what you are doing. If not, don’t waste each other’s time. Reset. Be honest. Be straightforward. People aren’t getting any younger. Guys, you got to understand that.

6. Sexual compatibility

This side of the story got to work as well. You don’t want to catch your significant other watching redtube. (Like you can access it from Mongolia). After all, we humans are only one of the three species that have sex for pleasure along with the dolphins and pygmy chimpanzees. Sexual incompatibility is a recipe for failure.

7. Weird little world

We humans are weird. We all live in our weird little world and it is beautiful. Be part of each other’s weird little worlds. Sometimes let the other person sink in their own weird little world. Give each other some personal time. Build a bigger weird little world together.

8. Falling in love with the character

You got to fall in love. A case proven especially for guys. You don’t have the spark, you don’t progress further. Your brain can be telling you that he/she is the perfect person for you, but if your heart doesn't agree, it will be difficult. I am telling you, it is about coming to a consensus and striking the delicate balance between your brain and your heart.

PS: This might function a bit differently for different genders.

Ok. Now is important. To avoid restarting the loop of searching, you got to fall in love with the character. Character is what defines us as individuals and it is the one thing that changes the least. Fall in love with the the real person and "You are in good hands". (Please understand that I am not promoting All State.) Not the eyes, not the smile, not the cars or definitely not the parents, but yes the character.

Find the right person. Suffer for the ones who are worth to you. Be friends, not partners.

So, tonight, I drink for “No more single moms and heartbroken kids”. Hope everyone finds their perfect matches.

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Discovering yourself 2.0

Stuck between grad school dreams, parents' expectations, personal ambition, misplaced passion and everyday work, I wanted to share my humble experience of a simple, yet never-ending journey to discover myself.

"Look at the cloud, mom! It looks like a dog"

Growing up, I was one of those kids who lived in his own little fantasy world. The type of child who did not have many friends, except the few imaginary ones. I did not know how to communicate well with people. Sad isn't it. Oh, and a bit close-fisted; I did not want to share my toys with anyone else. Ah, an asocial child.

However, I was full of imagination. I dreamed. I imagined. I drew. Speaking of drawing, I started drawing on the wallpapers of my home and this little evil-ish hobby of mine later extended to the underneath wooden surfaces of tables, chairs and even beds. At some point in my drawing career, I remember that I couldn't find any wallpaper space within my reach to draw because it was already full of my doodles. This doodling obsession was fairly harmless until I discovered the pen. I am sure you can imagine what the aftermath was. Nevertheless, I loved my Lego more than anything else. I enjoyed doing origami folds. I would look up the sky and see animals, cars, dinosaurs, guns and sometimes boobs. The sky and the clouds constituted a world of wonders to me which explains where my weird cloud-fetish came from.

My mom once dropped the line on me "Oh, I was worried that you would turn-out to be a person with no friends." I can see why. I had all the aspects to become an anti-social "loser". Luckily enough, I ended up just alright. Perhaps, a bit too alright.

"Why was the homework so sad?... Wait for it..............  Because it had many problems." -OE

I went to a religious school which pushed "Math is the savior of the world" propaganda to our innocent little minds. I grew up believing that math+physics is the only absolute truth in this world. I loved Masus and Physus from the bottom of my heart.

Time passed. Elementary school. Check. Middle school. Done. High school. Accomplished. In a matter of few blinks, it was suddenly the holy moment to choose what I wanted to become in life. I talked to a lot of people and they said "Become an Engineer! Mongolia need Engineers". With a math heavy background, it was fairly easy for me to decide that I will study something science related in college.

I applied to a handful of schools. I decided that I wanted to become an Electrical and Computer Engineer. Because my mom is an Electrical Engineer. Because my mom advised me not to do Electrical Engineering. Because she thought that I would be working behind a computer 24/7. Because my mom told me that I should do something else. Because I was 16. Because as a 16 year old rebellious little man, I had to go against my mom. There you go. I chose Electrical and Computer Engineering because I was good at math and sciences, but also because my mom told me not to.

"This shit just got serious"

At 4.15 am on a cold morning of a gloomy day in April 2006, my parents almost had a heart attack. They woke up to a loud fudging shout. It was coming from my room. Scared to death, they both rushed into my room to discover me sitting in front of my computer with tears in my eyes. I was accepted to Duke University. I will never forget that look on my father's face. His face was the visual definition of proud. Luck played on my side, once again.

I was admitted into Pratt School of Engineering at Duke University to pursue a Bachelor of Science in Engineering degree. August came. I left home, my parents, Mongolia the first time in my life, alone. Arrived in Durham. Orientation. Got drunk my first time ever. Sweated like hell - humidity was 100%. Thermometer was almost showing 100 Fahrenheit. Fudge. Had to shower 3 times a day, minimum.

Finally school started. I had to take some basic math and engineering classes. It was 7th or 8th grade material for me, so I relaxed quickly. I started missing classes here and then, stopped doing homework regularly. Then the mid-term exams approached. I understood everything. I considered my-self smart. Piece of cake. But the harsh reality that slammed my face was the fact that I almost failed all my mid-terms. That is when I realized that this shit just got serious. I ended my first semester with a record low 2.475 GPA. Fudge again.  

"Hey I just met you
And this is crazy
But here's my number
Pa-ssion, maybe?"

In the last semester of my junior year in college, I started seeing this spark of hope of being freed from my three years of slavery in the computer lab trapped inside multi-dimensional differential equations, Laplace transforms and discrete signals. I could literally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I saw something that I have never seen before in my life and it was beautiful: a free elective.

I decided to take Art History. Again, I saw something that I have never seen before. That is never-have-I-ever witnessed so many female beings in one room clustered together. They were wonderful and mysterious. My fellow engineering friends did not believe in me. Probably they would have believed if I told them that I saw a rainbow farting unicorn.

...I loved the class...

It was the first time since my career as an artist ended (when I was young and wild, showing great artistic expression, doing gigs on wallpapers, almost Banksy like. #notbanksy ) that I fell in love with a certain subject. From Parthenon in Athens to the Reims Catherdral in France, I was once again living in a world of wonders. PS: I almost failed the mid-term because I turned-out to be extremely and absolutely horrible with remembering dates. On my defense dates have no fudging logic. "When and in which dynasty was the Pyramid of Giza built?  Answer your question with a margin of plus or minus 30 years." "Wo ist meine hose? Square. Pink. Boobs. Between 3100 BC to 2000 BC? :Poker face:"

"5 am... Really? Pa-ssion still, maybe?" 

Stunned by the unknown beauty of free electives and inspired by a room full of hot and not so hot girls that I met, I decided to take a few more courses in that direction. I registered myself into two different classes - Motion Graphics and Digital Imaging. For those who are lost with the complicated terminology, let me translate it for you - After Effects (Learn to animate a bouncing ball, but end up with a swinging boob) and Photoshop (learn to make a professional looking poster but end up editing your FB profile picture).

Often, I would accept minimal workload and do only whatever is required to pass an engineering class. But with the design classes, I worked endless hours. I tried new techniques. I read books. I researched the latest design trends.

And then I remember the day when it happened...

I can still clearly remember it as if it was 1992. In 1992, Bush was the first US president to address in the Australian Parliament. Who doesn't remember, right? I was sitting in my little studio room working on a final design project. I got into the studio around 6 pm. The art department comfortably sat in this recently renovated old tobacco warehouse. Artsy fartsy place. The brick walls, high ceilings and the old-yet-new feel makes you fall in love with the building fairly quickly. Probably it was the only building I ever fell in love with. Anyways, long story short, I was working on my project all concentrated and shit 'till I looked at the clock. 5 AM!!!!!!! It was five o'clock in the morning. 11 hours have elapsed. I didn't realize. 11 HOURS. Eeemazing. That's when "it" happened. I kind of found my passion.

I will end this part of the journey here, but for those who are wondering what happened next - NOTHING. Obviously, for a fact, it was a bit too late.

"Fast forward >>>"

Graduated from college. Came back. Started a start-up with friends. Tried to find clients. Got hired instead. Ditched the start-up with a friend. Joined one of the biggest conglomerates in Mongolia with a friend. Met amazing people. Did amazing stuff. Almost found my long lost siblings. Cried in a train. Went to amazing corporate parties. The friend got seconded to a subsidiary. Went to more amazing corporate parties. Met someone who referred to himself in third person. Got blacklisted. Experienced a walking Encyclopedia. Made friend with a person who had 17 savings accounts and a fudging curly hair. Made new year videos. Met a male strip club dancer from Chicago. Found out that my long lost high school friend spoke fluent Texas language. Discovered Australia. Was demoted to Amar Jr. The friend ditched the subsidiary. Met someone who was later destined to be an important person in the bank. Lived through someones childhood memories in Swiss cheese. Then I was seconded to the subsidiary. Sent inappropriate e-mail to everyone in the company. Wait. Stop.

Hold on. Run backwards a little bit. Here we go.

At Newcom, I was working as an investment analyst. I still carried my passion with me. I started doing some freelance design work. At work, I edited corporate presentations and made reports look fairly decent. The management team saw my interest, my creative approach on tasks and suddenly decided to send me to one of it's subsidiary, Eznis Airways, as a marketing manager. For a young man like me without any prior management or marketing experience, it was a big damn responsibility. I refused at first. Then I begged not to send me. I prepared my case why I shouldn't go and why I should stay with Newcom. Talked to my boss. My boss said "I understand - fair enough." Then I was seconded/sent Eznis Airways, nevertheless.

At Eznis, I had the chance to work on some great creative projects with some great people. It helped me to realize a bit more that these kind of things are what I enjoy doing. Thank you management team for believing in me. Luck was on my side, again.

"The days with the donor-driven industry"

I can be a very impulsive person. I just hope that this "impulsiveness" of mine does not bring me regret at some point in my life...

Having said that, one day I woke up and decided I would like to quit. The same day I decided I would like to join the Zorig Foundation. Impulsive muuuch? Impulsive much! Even though I masked my sudden maneuver with a fancy word called "impulsivitynessmuch", there was actually a strong rationale behind the reason why I quit the airline business. It is considered to be one of the sexiest industries a person can ever be in. But sadly, it was overwhelmingly politically influenced and motivated in Mongolia. It was an industry where fair play did not exist. In this industry, one couldn't catch the rabbit with a caravan - only with "dirty tricks", maybe.

Disgusted, I joined Zorig Foundation. I started working on a project to raise social awareness on the negative impacts of our ultimate sins such as picking your nose in public, stabbing your friend in the back, telling you don't have any more gums even though you have a pocketful and of course corruption, bribery, conflict of interest and everything else bad. I worked for a young man who went to one of the best football schools on the planet - which is of course Stanford, fudge me right? Sometimes my boss would dress up like the Stanford mascot. From toes to head - all Stanford. Recently, it sparked a very interesting conversation and a comment about a size of a certain thing that some people find it delicious.

What I loved about the foundation and my job was that I had the flexibility to design and be creative with the project I was running. I could unleash my suppressed creativity. Almost went back to my days as a street artist and almost did a graffiti on a wall. Almost. #truestory

There, I also met a bunch of amazing people. The one who doesn't speak well. The one who always says "But...". The one who thinks Mongolia is the new Europe. The one who has multiple personality disorder which is observed through extremist tendencies in life. And the one who got pregnant and never came back. But I am the most grateful for the chance that was given to me to further look into and understand something about my passion. Again luck was on my side.

"500 lost days of Summer..."

DP won. Altankhuyag become the Prime Minister of Mongolia. Coincidentally at the same time, I was starting to grow a bit of discomfort inside of me. Let's say that I was becoming more lost in life. So was Mongolia. I was becoming a bit sad. I did not know what to do. "Maybe I should do grad school" I started telling myself. But the question "to do what?" quickly followed. My future seemed as uncertain as the position of an electron in an atom.

Pffft. I wished to know whether Lady Gaga is a man or a woman. I wanted to know what happened to Miley. I wished that life came with an instruction manual. I sought to reveal whether the Schrodinger's cat was alive or not.

But most of all, I wanted to be a child once again. Without any worries, I just simply wanted to doodle on the wall.

This time it was a little different though. Probably because I was old enough to buy beer. If I did doodle on a wall, that was to be considered pure vandalism. So, I started doodling on an imaginary wall inside my head going back and forth.

"Discovering yourself 2.0"

Then I decided let it be that I am lost, but also let it be me the one to start a mission to "discover myself". I started talking to people. I started to question the word passion. What does it mean? I simply wanted answers.

Luckily enough, luck was on my side, one more time. Thanks to Physus+Masus, somehow miraculously I started to realise that my whole life so far has been a long fucking journey - a single mission to discover where I stand on the spectrum of life. All these experiences were indeed the building blocks to find and zing with myself. It took me bit of a time to answer some very fundamental questions such as "Who am I", "What do I like" and "What do I want to do". But, I guess I can live with that because it only took a quarter of a century. And the cat was alive.

I consider myself truly lucky. Luck never left me. I finally managed to figure out where I wanted to be in life - in the creative industry. Not everyone has managed to do that. So, what exactly do I want to do in the CI? Not sure yet, but I will get there soon. I was lost, took a small detour, but I do not regret my engineering degree nor the jobs I went through. Because it gave me the ability to work systematically and it allowed me to meet so many wonderful people throughout my journey.

So buddy if you are lost too, don't worry. One day or another, you will find a place where you truly belong. Just remember that everyone is different and you are a masterpiece in progress.

"Insert half-baked, somewhat funny sentence inside quotation marks"

After all, nothing in life comes with certainty except death. And of course we know the hard evidence and the direct correlation which that 100% of the people who drink water die. We can be lost jiggas at some times and for sure we won't know where we will end up in 20 years.  But HEY, you got to start somewhere and discovering yourself is a good start.

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For now, to end my journey which is just starting, I would like to dedicate the last word to a friend of mine who is still lost. "Travel more, buddy"

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Ээж бүхнийг мэднэ

Жил хагас ор сураггүй алга болоод блогдоо эргэн ирж байна. (Энэ удаа жинхэнээсээ байх болтугай) Удахгүй нээнэ гэж төлөвлөж байгаа дизайн голлосон портфель маягийн цахим хуудасныхаа эхлэл болгоод нэгэн цагт нуугдах талбар минь болж байсан миний мөрөөдөл, гуниг, инээд, бухимдал гээд дурсамжуудын эрээвэр хураавар, цоохортсон хэсгүүдээс бүрдсэн энэ л блогныхоо өнгө үзэмжийг нь бага сага засчихлаа, ямартай ч. Хэсэгхэн бодлоосоо хуваалцъя.

Би баян хүн гэдгээ бага багаар ойлгосоор. Урсан өнгөрөх цаг хугацааны хэмжүүр ч гэлтэй, амьдрал үзэж, алдаж, онож, шинийг эрэлхийлж, хуучнаасаа суралцах тусам, өдрөөс өдөрт өчүүхэн ч гэсэн өсөн тэлэх ухаандаа хол ойрыг эрэгцүүлж боддог болов. Гүехэн бодол нь гүнзгийрэх тусам, хүн ижийгээ улам ойлгодог юм байна. Би ээжтэй хүн гэдгээ эцсийн эцэст ухаардаг юм байна. Би ээжтэй хүн. Тийм ч учраас би баян хүн. Мэдээж, би бас азтай хүн. Бурууг минь хэлж, алдааг минь засдаг, голдоо ортол гомдсон ч хүүгээ гэсэн сэтгэл нь хэзээ ч үл мохох амьд бурхантай хүн. Амьдрал баялаг юм даа.

Ээж бүгдийг мэднэ

4 настайдаа:   Ээж бүхнийг мэднэ!

8 настайдаа:   Ээж олон юм мэддэг.

12 настайдаа: Ээж бүхнийг мэддэггүй.

14 настайдаа: Ээж юу ч мэддэггүй.

16 настайдаа: Ээж хэнд ч хэрэггүй.

18 настайдаа: Ээж хэтэрхий хуучинсаг.

25 настайдаа: Ээж мэдэж магад!

35 настайдаа: Ээжээс эхлээд юу ч гэсэн асууя, шийдвэр гаргахаасаа өмнө.

45 настайдаа: Ээж үүний талаар юу гэж бодож байгаа бол?

75 настайдаа: Ээж минь байсан бол ээжээсээ асуух юмсан.

/Хэдэн жилийн өмнө нийтийн сүлжээгээр viral явсан энэхүү богино мөртлөө гайхалтай утга санаа бүхий зохиомжиор өөрийн бодлоо өндөрлөе./

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Блогдахуйн мөн чанар

Шөнө эд дундаасаа нэлээн хэтрээд үүр цайх хаялж байхад би нэг л янзгүйхэн сэрчих нь тэр. Нойр ч нэг их хүрэх шинж алга, хүрэх байсан ч өөртөө хүргэх зав өгөлгүйгээр "боломжийг ашиглаад" шууд л лаптопоо шүүрч аваад удаан үгүйлсэн блогдох мэргэн санаагаа хэрэгжүүлээд сууж байгаа нь энэ бөлгөө.

Би анх 5 гаруй жилийн өмнөөс энэ блог дээрээ аар шаархан жижиг сажиг зүйлс бичиж эхэлжээ.   Хэдэн хүн надтай санал нийлэх юм бүү мэд, гэхдээ би өөрийгөө ер нь бичгийн муу ч үгүй авъяастай нэгэн гэж боддог. Шүлэг, дэмийрэл, богинохон хэмжээний өгүүллэг, өөрт таалагдсан нийтлэлийг копи пайст хийх гээд нийт 139 нийтлэлийг энэ хугацаанд оруулсан байх юм. Би өнөөдөр статистик ярих гэж суугаагүй болохоор олон юм нуршилгүй шууд хэлэх гэсэн санаагаа өчье.

Надад хэр их нөлөөлснийг би яг хэлж чадахгүй ч ямар ч байсан худлаа үнэн блог хөтөлдөг байсан минь миний бичих чадварыг сайжруулахад тодорхой хэмжээний нөлөө үзүүлсэн биз. Хамгийн гол нь "би хэн бэ" гэдгээ нээж танихад надад нэлээдгүй тус болсон юм шиг санагддаг. Бичих тусам, тэр дотроо өөрийгөө уудлах тусам хүн өөрийн дотоод ертөнцрүүгээ улам өндийн гүнзгий нэвтрэн орж голоос нүцгэн гараараа загас барих мэт, өвснөөс харанхуй шөнө тэвнэ хайх мэт тэмтэрч, самарч бас самнан самнасаар хайж байгаа зүйлээ эцсийн эцэст олдог гэж би боддог.

Мэдээж хэрэг цаг хугацаа улиран өнгөрөх тусам хүн илүү ихийг үзэж, илүү олонтой учирч ертөнцийг үзэх үзэл, аливаад хандах хандлага нь төлөвшдөг ч хаанаас хэзээ яаж ирснээ, дамнан өнгөрсөн харгуй замаа умартахгүйгээр санагалзан, би өмнө нь хэн байлаа, юу гэж боддог байв гэхчлэн асуултын хариуг хэзээ ч олж харан эргэцүүлэл дүгнэлт хийх боломжийг блог хүнд  олгодог бөгөөд өөрийн зовлон шаналал, баяр баясал, уй гашуй, хайр дурлал гээд бүхий л мөч бүхнийгээ хадгалан үлдээсэн тэр хүний дижитал түүхэн дэвтэр шиг санагддаг.

Үргэлжлэл бий...

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Клубчин залуус (Ёгт Шүлэг)

Хэн зохиосон юу одоо бүү мэд, их инээдтэй бөгөөд үнэн бас хорон үгтэй шүлэг байна. Дээр нэг явж байгаад FB дээр харсан юм, google ухаж байж дахиж оллоо.

Харанхуй club-т хар шил зүүчихээд
Хөгжмийн хэмнэлээс зөрж хөдлөөд
Халууцаж байж хар савхиа тайлахгүй
Хараад байхад худлаа байнаа залуу минь
Цагаан сорочканыхаа захыг босгочихоод
Цааш нааш хэлбэрдэж алхаад
Тамхи татна гэж тоглолт үзүүлээд л
Танихгүй ч гэсэн өмнөөс чинь ичээд байнаа
Хаа сайгүй өлөн нүдээ бэлчээж
Хэнээс ч хамаагүй секс гуйгаад
Утсаа ломбардаад буудал босгож
Үнэндээ нэг л өлөн санагдаад байна аа
Охидын ширээ дамжиж дунд хуруугаар шагнагдаад л
Онцолж чамайг л харлаа гэж хүүхэн бүрт шивнээд л
Сүүлийн найдвар гээд taxi-тай үүд манаад л
Сэргэ л дээ залуу минь, сэрэл юугаан дар
Арван сантеметрийн дээр сайхан хүүхэн болчих мэт
Алхаж гишгиж чадахгүй байж бүжгийн талбайд доёгоноод
Янхан будалтаа бүдэг гэрлээр чимээд л
Яриа алгаа охин минь, хямдхан санагдаад байна
Тоож харахгүй болохоор түлхэж анхаарал татаад
Тогтоод хааяа харахаар бэлэн гэдгээ илчлээд
Хулхи сүрчигээ хамар цоргитол ханхлуулж
Хэрэггүй дээ охин минь савхитай залууруу оч
Труба тавиад өгвөл тайчих урлаг заачих гээд л
Түрийвч зузаан нэгнийг төрсөн биеэрээ шагнах гээд л
Биеэ үнэлэгчийн курсыг онц төгссөн чамд
Би ч юугаа хэлэхэв дээ

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A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs

A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON
Source: New York Times

I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
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Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.

By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.



PPost Before “read more”When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.

We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.

I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.

I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.

Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.

I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.

Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.

That’s incredibly simple, but true.

He was the opposite of absent-minded.

He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.

When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.

He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.

Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.

For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.

He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.

His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”

Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.

He was willing to be misunderstood.

Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.

Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.

Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”

I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”

When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.

None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.

His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.

Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With the just the right, recently snipped, herb.

Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.

When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”

When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.

They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.

This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.

And he did.

Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.

Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.

Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?

He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.

With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.

He treasured happiness.

Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.

Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.

Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.

I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.

Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.

“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.

He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.

I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.

Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.

One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.

I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.

He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”

Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.

For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.

By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.

None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.

We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.

I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.

What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.

Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.

He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”

“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”

When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.

Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.

Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.

His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.

This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.

He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.

Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.

He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.

This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.

He seemed to be climbing.

But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.

Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.

Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.

Steve’s final words were:

OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.


Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16 at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University. And here is the rest of it

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Ladies first...

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The scariest thing

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Эр хүн гэхээр л...

Эр хүн гээд чиний хойноос үргэлж гүйх ёстой юм уу
Эр хүн гээд заавал чамайг гуйх ёстой юм уу
Эр хүн болхоор л чинийхээр байх ёстой юм уу
Эр хүн болхоор л эхэлж сэтгэлээ илчлэх ёстой юм уу

Би эр хүн гээд шаналалыг үзэж тэвчих ёстой юм уу
Бид эрчүүд гээд бүсгүй танд тохируулах ёстой юм уу
Бас эр хүн гэхээр л уйлж болохгүй юу
Бараа таваар шиг биднээс сонгох ёстой юу

Эрчүүд гэхээр л эрээ цээргүй байх ёстой юм уу
Эр хүн гэхээр л эрхэлж болдоггүй юм уу
Эр хүн гээд илбэчин шиг бүхнийг бүтээх үү
Эрэгтэй хүн гээд сэтгэлээр нь тоглох болох уу

Бид ч гэсэн зүрх сэтгэлтэй бие мах бодь
Барлаг болсонч сэтгэлээ хувиргадаггүй
Бид эр хүн гээд эрхэлхийг хүсдэггүй биш
Бид эр хүн гээд уйлахгүй байж чаддаг юм биш

Балчир байхаасаа л эр нь гэж хатууг хийдэг
Бадарчин болж балаг тарьсан ч сэтгэл нь өвддөг
Бүсгүй таны төлөө өөрийгөө ч умартдаг юм
Бүтэн нойртой хоног цөөхөн байдаг юм бидэнд......

Author, unknown...
via Javkhlan

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Rare Earth 101 & Mongolia

The following article is written by Amar Baatartsogt for 976 Magazine.

Before all this “Rare Earth Saga” started last September, only a handful of people actually knew about the existence of it. Today, it is a hot global media topic, an international mining investment trend and most importantly the key ingredient to a greener and better future.So how did the storyline begin in the first place?

On September, 7 2010, a Chinese fishing boat collided with a Japanese Coast Guard patrol and the crew was held in custody pending possible charges. On the same day, China showed the world that they are the new global “bully”. China demanded for immediate release of the crew. All rare earth shipments to Japan were stopped soon after the incident. The Chinese government denied of such actions. It was an unannounced ban, an embargo – at least that’s how the rest of the world perceived the situation. With the strong opposition from the Chinese government and with the need of the rare earth shipments, Japan had no option but to release the crew only after a week. The release of the crew did not resume the shipments and it took another two months for China to restart the shipments to Japan. For the Japanese high-tech industries this action was a major threat which brought great uncertainty and fear. Japan finally realized that they cannot be dependent on China on its most crucial industrial raw material – rare earth elements.

Rare earth elements, perhaps which are more correctly referred to as lanthanides after lanthanum (atomic number 57) the first element in the series of 15 elements. The first rare earth element – yttrium was discovered in 1787. Through the early 1940s, these elements were largely a chemist's curiosity. But then US chemist Frank Spedding figured out a way to separate and purify rare earth elements. Twenty years later, researchers began discovering their usefulness. What makes rare earth elements special is that these elements are a group of materials that have unique electrical, magnetic, fluorescent and thermal properties that make them indispensable in the manufacturing of many “modern day living” such as laptops, LCDs, auto catalysts, energy efficient lighting and hybrid vehicles. Yttrium and scandium, which are also chemically similar to lanthanides, are also included in the family of rare earth elements, taking the total to 17.

Without these 17 elements on the Mendeleev periodic table, one would have to imagine a world without cell phones, flat screen TVs or even jet engines. Let me put it this way. You, Mr. Consumer, would have lived in a world without mobile connectivity where it is just not possible to call your little girl or your lovely fiancée anytime you want. You, Mr. Consumer, would have lived in a world with no laptops and color TVs where portable technology and entertainment are just mere words. And yes, You, Mr. Consumer, would have lived in a world that offers not-that-reliable civil aviation where flying could be on the list of “10 crazy things you should do before you die”. Without the 17 elements, most of our mainstays of modern life just wouldn't be possible.

The importance of rare earth elements is not only limited to consumer based products. It is also the basis of “enabler technologies” such as superconductors, lasers and imaging systems, while rare earth metals are mainly used to improve the performance of permanent magnets, catalysts (emission control systems) and rechargeable batteries. Rare earth metals are vital to the technology of Wind Turbine Power Generator, or simply known as wind turbine which is seen to be the key technology in reducing carbon emissions along with other green renewable energy technologies. Rare earth elements are categorized as strategically important in some of the developed nations for a different reason – national security. According to the U.S Department of Defense, rare earth elements are used in the production of number of missiles including the deadly Tomahawk cruise missile, radar surveillance systems, Abrams M1A1 Tanks and F15 Fighter Jets etc. Rare earth elements are undoubtedly important, so what’s the fuss about? The problem is China in four words: single source of supply. Today, almost 97% of the world’s rare earth supply comes solely from China and out of that, about 95% is extracted at Bayan-Obo mine, the largest deposit known up to date, in Baotou (Mongolian: Бугат), Inner Mongolia. The Bayan-Obo deposit lies only 80 kilometers outside of the Southern border of Mongolia. It is estimated that the deposit accommodates over 300 million tonnes of rare earth oxide ore with an average grade of 1.5% (this means only 1.5% of the total deposit is actual rare earth oxide and the rest is earth’s crust) Single source of supply is not a new idea and definitely not a new concern. The issue has been simmering for the past decade or so. Even prior to the discovery of Bayan-Obo, Mountain Pass deposit in California, United States was the monopolistic supplier of rare earth. But the new wrinkle "is the prospects of an explosion in demand for certain relatively obscure elements for new clean-energy technologies," says Roderick Eggert, a minerals economist at the Colorado School of Mines in Golden.

According to Credit Suisse, a major global financial services company, the overall rare earth market was barely 1.3 billion USD in 2008 with a total volume of 124 thousand tonnes, which was equivalent to only 6% of the copper market that year. This is because minimal amount of rare earth is required, but necessary to produce various high tech devices. However, market forecast shows a promising estimate that global consumption will increase to 220 thousand tonnes by 2012, a 77% increase from 2008. On the supply side, Chinese export quotas crimped worldwide industries and as a result, prices have climbed sevenfold in the last six months for cerium oxide, which is used for polishing semiconductors, and other elements have more than doubled, according to Metal-Pages Ltd. in London, which tracks rare-earth prices. Actions by China have drawn criticism from U.S. lawmakers and officials in Japan and Germany. Bloomberg reported that China reduced its second-half export quota for the minerals by 72 percent in July.

Chinese control of the base of the rare earth supply chain has increasingly made China the go-to location for the intermediate goods made from rare earth elements. As new rare earth supplies cannot be brought online overnight, China will enjoy a very powerful position at least in the short term. Mount Weld deposit in Australia is planning to begin production in late 2011, which will become the first major supplier of rare earth outside of China. The re-establishment of the Mountain Pass deposit follows with a few others. Even with all the new suppliers marching into the rare earth market in the upcoming years, it will still be hard to keep up with the rapidly increasing demand.

Multinational corporations and countries that have significant stake in rare earth related industries have already started pursuing new investments opportunities at new locations. This is where Mongolia came into the picture along with other emerging nations in the quest to finding the “treasure chest”. Ever since the China-Japan dispute, Mongolia has been an international focus regarding the rare earth sector. On October, 2 2010 Japanese Prime Minister Naoto Kan and Mongolian Prime Minister Sukhbaatar Batbold agreed on to cooperate in promoting projects to develop rare earth minerals in Mongolia as it seeks to diversify sources of materials needed for high-tech products during a meeting in Tokyo. "Development of mine resources in resource-rich Mongolia will benefit both countries. Our country's research team will launch exploration of rare metals this month," Mr. Kan said during the meeting. Japan expressed strong interest to help Mongolia look for rare earth elements and other metals with its technologies under the agreement. Not long after, Mr. Kan met Elbegdorj Tsakhia, the President of Mongolia, and furthermore agreed to build a strategic partnership and to secure mutually beneficial cooperation in developing various mineral resources in Mongolia.

After the Second World War, the Soviet Union started extensive explorations within its satellite countries as well as Mongolia with the ambitious goal to discover major uranium deposits. Currently there are over 60 registered rare earth occurrences in Mongolia, all of which were discovered during these explorations as a byproduct. However, these explorations mainly covered Southern and Western Mongolia while the remaining parts are mostly untapped and unexplored. It is believed among experts that Mongolia has some potential to become the next major “rare earth player” in the global market. There are 4 deposits in Mongolia known up to date. The largest one out of the 4 deposits is the Mushgia Khudag deposit, located in the Omnogobi province. It is estimated to have around 200 million tonnes of rare earth oxide ore with an average grade of 1.5%, which is comparable in size to the Bayan-Obo deposit in Inner Mongolia. Khotgor, the second largest deposit is expected to deliver another 200 million tonnes of rare earth ore at a lower average grade of 0.7%. The remaining 2 deposits are also estimated to be respectable in size.

It is still a couple of years away before any rare earth production starts in Mongolia and there are a few roadblocks that the government has to maneuver through. First of all, rare earth deposits aren’t even considered to be strategic yet in Mongolia. With no doubt the status will become “strategic” and as a consequence there will be a lot of changes at different levels. Secondly, there is no existing legal framework “tailored” for rare earth elements. It is necessary to have one because rare earth elements will need “special care” – a different type of approach compared to bulk commodity mining. The development of a new legal framework will be time consuming and investors will not start spending big money until everything is in the right place. Apart from it, there is another, probably a more sensitive side to the whole rare earth story. Despite their name, rare earth elements are actually not so rare. According to US Geological Survey (USGS), at the current consumption rates, the total rare earth reserves will represent a comfortable life expectancy of nearly 800 years. However, their extraction and production are rather expensive due to their similar chemical properties and their tendency to mix with each other. Not only it is expensive but also rare earth extraction is one of the most environmentally unfriendly processes in the mining industry. The Mountain Pass mine in California, once the dominant producer of world’s rare earth elements, was closed down due to environmental reasons. Due to the radioactive nature of the rare earth ores, the waste water was a serious problem with Mountain Pass. On the other hand, extracting a small amount of rare earth requires digging and moving vast amounts earth’s crust. Some people believe that the reason China started imposing export quotas is partially because of the environmental issues they were facing. Whatever the reason is, with Mongolia already heavily suffering from extreme climate change and improper mining activities, there will be one question that need be answered: All these potential rare earth in Mongolia – a blessing or a curse?

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