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Traces Of Katrina: New Orleans Suicide Rate Still Up
STEVE INSKEEP, host:
It's MORNING EDITION, from NPR News. I'm Steve Inskeep.
RENEE MONTAGNE, host:
And I'm Renee Montagne.
Today in "Your Health," a story about the psychological health of a city. Shortly after Hurricane Katrina hit, NPR's Alix Spiegel spent time in New Orleans, riding around in ambulances with Emergency Medical Service workers who were answering suicide calls.
For our coverage marking the fifth anniversary of the storm, Alix went back again and rode with the Orleans Parish EMS. In some ways, what she found was radically different; in other ways, sadly familiar.
ALIX SPIEGEL: On a recent Tuesday night, EMS worker Josh Bell glanced at the sky through the windshield of his van, then warned his colleague Nina Breakstone that rain was on the way. He pointed at the clouds. They looked dark. Breakstone, a 27-year-old training to be an ER doctor, was unimpressed.
Ms. NINA BREAKSTONE: Maybe it'll rain bullets. God, I hope so.
SPIEGEL: EMS shifts, you see, are 12 hours long - a slog. And interesting injuries make the time go faster. And so as they waited for a rain of bullets to save them from boredom, Josh and Nina and a trainee named Dave passed the time another way. Like thousands of New Orleans residents before them, they spent the night arguing about their favorite restaurants.
Ms. BREAKSTONE: Oh, Commanders, weekday brunch with the 25-cent martinis.
Unidentified Man #1: That's the only reason you're going, is the 25-cent martinis.
Unidentified Man #2: What?
Ms. BREAKSTONE: Martinis.
Unidentified Man #2: Get the - out of here.
Unidentified Man #1: Yes.
SPIEGEL: They argued about restaurants. Then they argued about bars. It was a very slow night. A man fell off his bicycle; another had trouble breathing. Finally, an interesting call came over the radio: a serious injury from assault. Nina perked up.
Ms. BREAKSTONE: Sweet.
SPIEGEL: But once they�got there, the scene was disappointing: a teenager complaining of a twisted ankle. Back in the van, Breakstone stared out the window, clearly frustrated.
Ms. BREAKSTONE: Saving lives - that's what we do.
SPIEGEL: Five years ago, my drive with EMS in a nearby parish could not have been more different. There was no talk of 25-cent martinis, no yearning for more exciting cases. The EMS workers I rode with were haunted. They told me they were seeing two or three suicide attempts a day. And even when the calls were routine, as Josh Bell says, it was impossible to escape Katrina.
Mr. JOSH BELL (EMS): Every time we encountered somebody in a patient-type relationship, it was: This happened to me during the storm or, you know, I haven't had my medications because I've been in some other city or, I just moved back from some other city where I was displaced, and I don't have any medical care.
SPIEGEL: But today, Bell doesn't hear about Katrina in the same way.
Mr. BELL: It's occasional. I wouldn't say it's frequent. I wouldn't even say it would be once a day. I mean, unless I bring it up to somebody, it's pretty rare.
SPIEGEL: Today, it's at least possible to live a life in New Orleans without constantly being confronted with the storm. But that doesn't mean that Katrina is gone.
Around 10 at night, Nina Breakstone tells this story. Recently, she was jogging near her home when she noticed a plaque a couple blocks from her house. It was the Vera memorial. Vera was a woman killed during Katrina whose dead body lay in the street for days before her neighbors finally decided they would bury her. Breakstone said she was shocked to see it there.
Ms. BREAKSTONE: I just - I'd been by this corner a thousand times. Like I said, it's all of three blocks from my house. And I never noticed that it's just - it's right there. So that's - I feel like that's what happens here. You don't think about Katrina. You don't notice Katrina and then all of a sudden, it's right next to you.
SPIEGEL: Twenty-five cent martinis are on offer at Commanders. Much of the city has been rebuilt, but traces of Katrina are still around. One of those traces, some people argue, is the suicide rate in Orleans Parish. In 2008 and 2009, the rate of suicide was about twice as high as it was the two years before the levees broke. The rate of suicides in Orleans Parish has basically doubled.
Ms. ELIZABETH LOGAN: Five weeks ago, my son had called me up. Usually when he calls, he, you know, says, hey, mama, how you doing? But that day, I could tell something was on his mind.
SPIEGEL: Elizabeth Logan is the mother of four boys, a small- business owner, a conscientious volunteer at her children's school. And her son Lonnie, who's 23, is also a conscientious person, the kind of son who calls his mother every day. But Elizabeth says since Katrina, Lonnie has been having a hard time.�Then, five weeks ago, he called her with more bad news. His best friend had committed suicide.
Ms. LOGAN: And he was saying, I just saw him, mama. I just saw him. We were supposed to go out and everything. And then he, you know, did this. So he cried. I mean, he cried for days, you know.
SPIEGEL: Now here's the thing about the suicide of Lonnie's friend:�It wasn't the first - not by a long shot.
Ms. LOGAN: This made the fourth one. A year after Katrina, you know, that's when he started losing friends - one every year since after the storm.
SPIEGEL: Three boys, one girl, four suicides. Now, it's always, always hard to know why someone commits suicide. And certainly, five years after Katrina, it would be impossible to pin blame on Katrina alone. At this point, it's multi-factorial.
But Elizabeth has her suspicions. She feels the stress of Katrina, and the altered circumstances it left behind, can take a toll.
Ms. LOGAN: You know, Katrina just changed everybody.
SPIEGEL: To make her point, Elizabeth points to her own son, Lonnie.
Ms. LOGAN: I know my son went from going to college and, you know, he was going to UNO, and then when the storm came, he had to transfer to LSU. But then he wasn't really concentrating, so he just got out, you know, because he couldn't concentrate because we all lived in a trailer. There was five of us living in one of those FEMA trailers. And he just felt that he needed to go to work, you know, to help us out, because we were struggling. I think that if it Katrina wouldn't have came, he would've graduated like all his other peers did.
SPIEGEL: Lonnie was always a sweet kid, Elizabeth says. But these days, her son is very clearly depressed. He very rarely leaves his home, except to go to work. The stress of everything - of reduced prospects, of lost friends - wears on him.
Ms. LOGAN: It's just eating him up. You know, it worries me because, you know, will he hurt himself, you know. And he says that sometimes he does think about it, but then he thinks about me and my husband and his brothers - you know, what would we do without him? You know. But I do worry about him. I just think he needs to talk to someone, you know, so he can get some relief.
SPIEGEL: But finding relief these days from a mental health professional in New Orleans isn't an easy thing to do.
Dr. JULLIETTE SAUSSY (Director, Medical Director, New Orleans EMS): There is still a lot of struggle that goes on here, and there's still a lot of brokenness. I mean, I'm reminded - every time this BlackBerry goes off, it's a reminder of somebody out there that's suffering.
SPIEGEL: This is Julliette Saussy. Saussy runs the Orleans Parish EMS. And every time someone in the city of New Orleans hurts themselves or someone else, the BlackBerry on her hip vibrates. It vibrates too often for Saussy. Saussy is not only the EMS administrator, but also a doctor who goes out at least once a week to take care of people. And she says that what's intensely frustrating about her work these days is that when she encounters someone who needs psychological help, there's almost nothing that she can do with them.
After the storm, the state closed Charity - its biggest public hospital - and also the adolescent mental health facility, and in the process, lost hundreds of mental health professionals and many psychiatric beds.
Dr. SAUSSY: We had a very robust mental health system here. It wasn't perfect, don't get me wrong. There was nothing perfect about the system. But it worked, and it worked for the people here. They had access to care. They don't have that anymore.
SPIEGEL: This, in Saussy's view, is part of the reason that the suicide rate in her parish continues to be twice as high as it was before the storm. It's not just that people are in pain. It's that there's almost nothing for them.
Dr. SAUSSY: Think it's a perfect storm. I think you subject people to terrible trauma, and then you take away all their mental health resources. What do you expect?
SPIEGEL: New Orleans, Saussy says, is better. There is no question about it. It's not the broken city it was five years ago. But the BlackBerry on Saussy's hip continues its buzzing - a small reminder that New Orleans still has a ways to go.
Alix Spiegel, NPR News, Washington.
(Soundbite of music)
MONTAGNE: You're listening to MORNING EDITION, from NPR News.
Copyright © 2010 NPR. All rights reserved. Visit our website terms of use and permissions pages at www.npr.org for further information.
NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by Verb8tm, Inc., an NPR contractor, and produced using a proprietary transcription process developed with NPR. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR's programming is the audio record.


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Table of contents
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The capacity usage report shows the total capacity of the appliance and the amount of capacity utilized by your servers (hosts). The 'capacity utilized' tracks with the amount of data written to the system (but it's not updated in real-time).
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subset: commoncrawl


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As an herbalist and holistic health coach, Jovan Sage believes that everyone has the power to change their world and change their health through growing, cooking and eating. She works one-on-one to empower people to make that change, and to help them find their connection to their food, their health and their full life.
As an event organizer and facilitator, Jovan has coordinated conferences, events and workshops for political organizing, public policy, food and health education. She works to bring people together through the common language of food, and by organizing local projects, and doing international and national advocacy. She works with leaders to connect, share ideas, build relationships, problem-solve, and strengthen their leadership skills.
Additionally, Jovan Sage acts as the Food Alchemist alongside "Chefarmer" Matthew Raiford at The Farmer & the Larder and Gilliard Farms in Brunswick, GA.
Jovan studied at the Institute of Integrative Nutrition to become a Health Coach who acts as a supportive mentor and wellness advocate working with clients to help them feel their best through food and lifestyle changes. She also studied herbalism at the Florida School of Holistic Health and The Herbal Academy.


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QZO, Inc. v. Moyer
Default Judgment Issued Against Party For Destroying Computer Evidence
594 S.E. 2d 541 (S.C. App. 2004)
The plaintiff suspected the defendant, former officer at plaintiff's corporation, had plans to compete. The plaintiff was granted a temporary restraining order (TRO), which required the defendant to turn over his work laptop computer to the plaintiff. The defendant took seven days to turn over his computer, and when he did so, a computer forensic expert determined that the hard drive had been reformatted the day before. The reformatting destroyed any possible evidence that would have shown the defendant's plan to compete. The court held that the defendant had willfully destroyed evidence related to the case and violated the TRO, and based on this, the court assigned liability to the defendant. The appellate court affirmed the judgment denying the defendant's argument that there was insufficient evidence to support the sanctions the plaintiff was seeking.
- Staff Recognized for Departing Employee Investigations - The first issue of Corporate Counsel Business Journal, CCBJ, includes an interview with our Director of Digital Forensics, Yaniv Schiff, and Solutions Architect, Curtis Collette, on the evolution of departing employee investigations. Departing Employee: When Do Investigations Become Necessary? appeared in the print publication, online edition, and on CCBJ's In-House Tech website. For Increasing Numbers of Employers, Departing Employee Investigations[...Read More]
- Chicago Office Food Drive – The Results Are In - QDiscovery's Chicago Office collected nearly 1,000 containers of food for the local food bank this Holiday Season! Our office competed with sister offices in Indiana and Connecticut. Alas, we came in third. Our sister offices each collected nearly 2,000 containers for their local food banks. Relatively new to the company-wide food drive, the Forensics Division[...Read More]
- QDiscovery QMobile App Wins Innovation Award - QDiscovery's QMobile is winner of a 2017 Relativity Innovation Award. Presented at Relativity Fest, the Innovation Award celebrates organizations that create apps or integrations that extend the functionality of Relativity's eDiscovery software. Our development team created an application that makes the analysis of mobile collections much more manageable. Relativity users can now produce and review mobile[...Read More]
- Moving and Changing - Acquired by Connecticut-based QDiscovery in 2016, Forensicon's capabilities multiplied overnight, both in forensics brain power and eDiscovery expertise. As part of a leading provider of end to end litigation support, moving to larger offices that are more central to the Chicago legal community was inevitable.
- QDiscovery Named One of the Top 20 Providers of Legal Services! - Leading industry publication, CIO Magazine, has named Forensicon's parent company, QDiscovery, to it's Top 20 Providers of Legal Services. The annual listing includes 20 companies that are at the forefront of providing legal solutions and impacting the marketplace. Read the whole article here. Featured in the publication alongside QDiscovery President, Dave Barrett, is Director of Digital Forensics, Yaniv[...Read More]


text:
Schwabe Bacopa Monnieri 1X tablets, Brain Tonic for weak memory, forgetfulness
Check Pincode Serviceability
Delivery time
Bangalore, Metro cities: 1-3 business days, South India: 4-5 business days, North India: 5-7 business days, North east: 5-12 business days
Outside India: 5-10 business days
About Bacopa monnieri
Schwabe Bacopa monnieri is indicated as brain tonic
Bacopa monnieri is clinically well established in Indian medicine as nervine tonic and it is used to sharpen dull memory. It gives relief from anxiety neurosis. It is used in homoeopathy empirically. It has gained an official status in the pharmacopoeia because of its popularity. Homoeopathic literature as available in B. Jain's publications of Dr. William Boericke's Materia Medica, has a brief mention as follows: "Impaired memory and whooping cough, used as tonic for absent-mindedness, and for short and weak memory". Its ingredients resemble strychine, reserpine, chlorpromazine. It has free sterols, saponins linked to neuro pharmacological effects. Alcoholic extract (eqv. to 1x) has effect on cerebral amino acid levels with simultaneous improvement in learning.
Recent research has attracted much attention to the drug relation to human memorys dose-dependant free radical scavenging and protective effect on DNA cleavage linked to anti-stress, immuno modulatory, cognition-facilitating, anti-inflammatory and anti aging effects. The drug has adaptogenic effect.
Bacopa Monnieri 1X
Where to use Schwabe's Bacopa monnieri 1X tablets?
Schwabe 250 mg tablets of Bacopa monnieri 1X is for the physicians who intend to empirically use it for the reported clinical effect. It can be used alone or as supplement to other medicines.
|Unless otherwise prescribed by the physician, 1-2 tablets thrice daily. Children should be given one tablet thrice daily and when symptoms improve 1 tablet a day. If complaints are not relieved, consult a specialist.
|Dr Willmar Schwabe India Pvt.Ltd
|Side effects
|No side effects of Bacopa monnieri 1X are known.
|No contra-indications for the use of Bacopa monnieri 1X are known.
|No interactions between Bacopa monnieri 1X and other products are known.
|Tablets, Bottle of 20gm.


text:
Part of the popular riverside development New Providence Wharf, this two bedroom apartment located on the 7th floor of Columbia West Apartments offer luxury living moment from Canary Wharf. Comprising c.884 sq ft, the property benefits from an open plan kitchen living area, two double bedrooms with built in storage, family bathroom and ensuite. Finished to an excellent standard throughout, floor to ceiling windows make the most of the views on offer whilst allowing for an abundance of natural light.
Columbia West Apartments offer an exceptionally high standard of living and unbeatable location. Prominently placed with easy access to Canary Wharf by foot or local transport such as the DLR, travel will be further enhanced by the new Crossrail line due to complete in 2019.
Residents of CWA benefit from 24hr concierge, swimming pool and gym.


text:
Having tackled the rugged and dangerous trails of the Klondike and the hostile jungles of Guyana, Parker Schnabel is ready to take his hunt for gold to the next level, in Papua New Guinea.
He wants to reconnect with his grandfather John's history; having served in the air force there during WWII, he never wanted to discuss it when he was alive. And, as he learns about the gold rush history of the country, which attracted prospectors from the Klondike, he follows in the footsteps of one of the greatest explorers and prospectors of the 20th century, Mick Leahy, and learns the local mining techniques that make the present-day gold rush thrive in this stunning Pacific country.


text:
Executive learning
London Speaker Bureau's (LSB) Executive Learning service is a selection of masterclasses for executives and senior managers. Each masterclass is led by an expert and tailored for groups of any size to meet specific organisational needs.
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Keynote speakers who deliver a powerful message in a way that captivates an audience can ensure an event is memorable for many years.
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Former heads of state, chairmen and senior directors, our advisors have extensive experience and insights into running successful organisations.Company boards and CEOs frequently work in isolation, cut off from the realities and challenges of the everyday corporate world.
Teamwork within in the workplace is crucial to the success and development of any business. No-one can be a master of all and the key to success comes in identifying and utilising each individuals skill-set. However, great teamwork in business is rare, as leadership doesn't come naturally to many. A good leader needs to motivate their team, helping them to reach their full potential in a supported manner.
We have a range of teamwork speakers, each with unique and fascinating experience. From former sports stars to explorers and astronauts, our keynote speakers' inspiring stories will demonstrate the advantages of teamwork, how to build a team and the secrets of leadership and working together for a common goal.
If you are interested in booking a speaker to learn more about the importance of teamwork in the workplace, then please feel free to browser our most popular speakers below. If you have an individual in mind not listed please don't hesitate to contact our team.
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Vice President, Magic Kingdom (Retired)


text:
Our agency is ATAS accredited, which means we meet strict criteria and professional standards set by the Australian Federation of Travel Agents. Planning your next trip with an ATAS accredited agent like us means you're in safe hands and can travel with confidence.
Australian Owned and Operated
IATA No: 0236 1424 ABN: 74 071 920 360 ATAS No: A11315 AFTA No: 10075
Thank you very much for your assistance. It has been an absolute pleasure dealing with your company.
I have been so overwhelmingly happy with the customer service I have been provided, I will most certainly be letting everyone know!
Used iFly to book tickets to Singapore for work and they were by far the cheapest! Thanks iFly!
We want our passengers to have a safe and enjoyable journey and have teamed up with Australia's leading Travel Insurance company, CoverMore to offer our passengers up to 30% off Travel Insurance when booking online. Make sure your holiday is hassle free.
We're very excited to announce that iFly and Select World Travel are part of Travellers Choice, the winners of the prestigious Best Agency Group Award for 2019!
Travellers Choice was awarded the Best Travel Agency Group in 2015 and again in 2019, beating other finalists such as Flight Centre and Helloworld Travel. We're very proud to be a part of such a trustworthy and amazing group.
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Whatever your business, if corporate transport is a requirement, we can help you. We're extremely proud of our popular corporate transport service.
We can take care of your transport needs by providing a solution that works for any kind of business, regardless of its size. We can personalise our service to your specific requirements because every business is different.
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To find out more about our service, we have specialists on hand to answer your queries and help you to make your booking.


text: This Small Business Innovation Research Phase I project is aimed at utilizing aerosol technology to solve heat transfer problems in small-scale air conditioning systems, thus enabling the use of water as a refrigerant in small-scale units for domestic and automobile applications. A water-based air conditioning system must operate under vacuum, thus raising concerns of air leaking into the system. Also, the presence of water in a system is associated with the risk of corrosion. Further, the proposed system requires design and development of a special compressor. These issues are addressed in this project and viable solutions are proposed. Advancements in the pertinent technologies are now enabling realization of water-based air conditioning systems. This project underlines the importance of revisiting the conventional technologies with the new tools developed for the advanced technologies. The anticipated outcome of this Phase I project is a fully functional lab prototype of a water-based air conditioning system with a capacity of 0.25 ton. A successful Phase I project will enable development of field prototypes for domestic and automobile applications in the Phase II project. The broader impact/commercial potential of this project encompasses all air conditioning applications; in particular, the markets of newly built homes and new automobiles. The domestic US market for these two businesses is $5B/year, with potentially 10 times this market on a worldwide basis. Annual revenue expectations exceed $100 million. Besides offering a significant commercial opportunity, the proposed product will have a positive impact on the environment by reducing the use of existing refrigerants that have a high global warming potential, when released into the atmosphere. Production of the existing refrigerants involves multiple steps starting with extraction of chemicals like methane and sodium chloride from the natural environment. Various steps in production of the conventional refrigerants are often energy-intensive and produce hazardous waste. On the other hand, water is abundantly available in the anticipated global marketplace and its purification is a relatively straightforward process. Hence, the proposed approach will enable a new, substantial and sustainable technology.


text:
60 days money-back guarantee!
The Magnetic Safety Stirrup™
Safety and performance.
Made extraordinary.
only available online
Magnetic insoles included.
No special boots needed.
The Magnetic Safety Stirrup™
Safety and performance.
Made extraordinary.
only available online
The stirrups invisibly integrate a Magnetic System, which delivers optimal grip and control in any weather.1 of 5
The stirrups include our Magnetic Insoles, which allow the magnetic system to work with your normal riding boots. No special boots needed.2 of 5
Ophena's unique Open Design minimises the risk of getting caught in case of an accident.3 of 5
With Smart Attach™, you can attach and detach your stirrups much quicker.
The stirrups provide great balance and a better riding experience.5 of 5
Open Design.
For Absolute Safety.
Getting caught in a stirrup can lead to dangerous accidents. Every aspect of Ophena – from its open design to the magnetic system to the footstopper – is designed to keep you safe. So you can leave risks aside and focus on the ride.
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Follows Your Every Move.
The most beloved feature of the Ophena stirrups, is the magnetic system. It is enabled by a magnetic insole (included), so no special riding boots are needed! The magnetic system makes the stirrups follow your feet, helps you keep the right foot position and gives additional grip in any weather. And should you fall, it lets you escape without any effort.
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Saves Times and Nerves.
Ophena's patent-pending double-arm architecture with Smart Attach™ locking mechanism allows you to attach and detach the stirrups quicker than ever before. No need to fully remove the stirrup leather from the saddle, saving time and preserving the leather.
Two Versions. One DNA.
Common Questions
No. Our stirrups come together with magnetic insoles, which magnetise any normal riding boot. They are included in the price of a pair of stirrups. You can also buy additional insoles if required.
Yes, our 60 days money-back guarantee allows you to properly test the magnetic stirrups in your environment. Should they not meet your expectations, you can return them for a full refund.
The magnetic connection is designed, so that the stirrups follow your feet, without you being stuck to them. There are different techniques to get loose. You can check this video.
No. We only sell online through this website (ophena.com). That way we can provide you with outstanding service, money-back guarantee and more.
If you buy, you automatically are granted our 60 days money-back guarantee, so you can test our products risk-free.
The Ophena T is made from aerospace-grade titanium and available in several colours. It is also a bit lighter. Otherwise Ophena S and Ophena T offer the same features. You can find a detailed comparison here.
Yes, we offer shoe sizes down to size 32. Due to the magnetic system and open design, the stirrup itself is one-size-fits-all.
We ship globally. If you cannot select your country during checkout, please get in touch with us.
We answer some more questions here.
Otherwise you are welcome to contact us through our chat in the lower right corner. Just click the button and shoot your questions. 🙂
How Ophena Works
1 Slide the Ophena Magnetic Insoles into your favourite riding boots.
2 Attach the Ophena stirrup to your saddle using Smart Attach™.
3 Ride confidently and safely supported by the magnetic connection.
Commonly used in competitions by
Show Jumping
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All Disciplines
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Choose Ophena
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Experience the best ride with Ophena's advanced magnetic system. The Ophena S and Ophena T have an invisibly integrated magnetic system and come with magnetic insoles, which you simply slide inside your riding boots. Ready within seconds and absolutely hassle-free, this magnetic connection helps you keep the right foot position, and gives you additional grip in any weather. You can relax your legs and ride with ease.
Open Safety
There are many so called safety stirrups out there, but their reliability is questionable. We simply know too many riders who were severely injured due to a fail of their stirrups' safety mechanisms. We believe that a safety stirrup must never break, keep the rider's feet stable and reliably release the foot when the rider falls. That was the starting point of our development and is the most integral part of Ophena.
Due to Ophena's totally open design, there are no safety mechanisms that could fail. The magnetic connection is adjusted so that it helps during the ride, but releases in case of a fall.
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Attaching and detaching stirrups just takes too long. With Smart Attach™ you don't have to detach the whole stirrup leather. Instead, you can easily slide the metal buckle through opening in the arms. Suddenly mounting becomes easy and quick.
Due to its carefully adjusted weight and the 90 degree twisted mounting hole, Ophena remains in a perfectly stable position. It is very centralised and keeps you steady while riding and jumping.
Premium Quality
Ophena has been developed in a Swedish-German collaboration with the involvement of pro riders, coaches and industry experts. We designed and manufacture Ophena as one single metal body, making it strong and fascinating to look at.


text:
An alleged press render leaked by a website suggests that the HTC One (M8) mini a.k.a HTC One mini 2 will not sport the Duo Camera setup seen on the flagship. Not just this, the smartphone will not come with a rear-facing UltraPixel camera and the company will pack in a 13-megapixel shooter instead, the report says.
This information was reported by Phonearena, which claims to have received the details from a reader. Famous tipster @eveleaks in a tweet on Wednesday suggested the phone may release as HTC One mini 2 instead of HTC One (M8) mini.
The rumoured HTC One mini 2 will run Android 4.4.2 with HTC's latest Sense 6.0 UI. It will be powered by a quad-core Snapdragon 400 processor clocked at 1.7GHz coupled with 1GB of RAM, leaks have suggested. HTC One mini 2 is also rumoured to feature a 4.5-inch display with a resolution of 720×1280 pixels. It will sport a 13-megapixel rear camera and a 5-megapixel front facing camera, as seen on the HTC One (M8). The internal storage will be 16GB with the option to expand via a microSD card.
The rumoured specifications for HTC One mini 2 indicate it will be a mid-range smartphone.
Last year, the Taiwanese company released its flagship HTC One smartphone, followed by the mid-range variant HTC One mini, and this year it looks set to follow a similar strategy. HTC also released a dual-SIM variant of its flagship last year, so it will be interesting to see if we will see a dual-SIM HTC One (M8) sometime this year.


text:
Sylvia - Long Lightweight Crochet Beach Cover-Up
Regular price $43.99
The Sylvia beach cover-up is comfortable and lightweight and can also double as a lightweight cardigan. The cover-up is approximately knee length, with long drop tassels that extend down from the sides, which gives it the illusion of length.The fabric is partially sheer. Perfect for the beach, when you want full head to toe coverage, without sacrificing weight and breathability.
Material: nylon, spandex
Size: total length 66cm ( not including tassels). Sizes fit one to two sizes smaller than usual. Please take this into account when choosing the appropriate size.


text: In July the Subsonix Dragon Boat club will travel to Szeged Hungary to compete in the 2018 World Club Crew Championships. Subsonix will compete with 146 clubs from 24 countries in the 7 day event. The event will be held in the beautiful city of Szeged from July 17th to July 22nd. This is the first time Subbies will be competing at Club Crew World Championships overseas and is the product of our performance at the Australian Nationals in Adelaide and Albury. Please follow our social media pages to stay up to date on this exciting event.


text:
Watching America vs. Deutschland in 北京
I awoke before my alarm to the muted sounds of kitchen woks clanking and bicycle bells ringing, as grandmothers and grandfathers emerged from their hutongs, traditional Beijing dwellings, off to buy vegetables from the morning markets. These were sounds that could be heard in any number of neighborhoods around the old section of dusty Beijing; they were the sounds that had accompanied my alarm every morning— harbingers of a new, smoggy day.
And yet today, there was something particularly charming about those sounds— the woks reminded me of my mother's kitchen, the twanging bells were reminiscent of an early Louis Armstrong wax recording. Today was the day that the United States Men's National Team would face Germany. Today was the day that would hopefully see our undervalued, proud team, and their derided, confident coach, emerge from one of the most competitive World Cup groups in recent history.
It was impossible not to feel elated in that initial moment of consciousness that morning. The match would air today, after months of anticipation and anxiety; after a tremendous win against the Ghanaian team that outplayed us; and after an agonizing draw against a Portuguese team that deserved to lose. This delirious day of determination, which had been crawling forward in slow motion for the last week, had finally arrived.
Since its founding in 1924, China has only qualified for one World Cup— a disappointing 2002 first-round exit in which they failed to score a single goal. Yet despite this fact, China may be the world's dark horse capital of football fandom. Each morning in my office, the woman who sits in the cubicle next to mine greets me by rattling off facts about the previous night's matches, many of which she stays up to watch. This is the truly remarkable fact about this year's enormous World Cup presence in China— because of the time difference, the earliest matches begin at midnight, and the latest matches don't start until 6AM.
Each day, as the oppressive Beijing heat begins to recede and the massive Chinese characters bearing the names of restaurants and bars gradually illuminate into the noisy bouquet of neon characters found in cities all over China, there is an undeniable humming sound on the streets, foreshadowing the arrival of the throngs of men and women who haunt these bars and restaurants deep into the night.
I personally am only a second cousin to these raucous viewing parties— my experience of this World Cup has, with the exception of the United States' matches, been limited to highlights and post-game analysis. But each morning, as I walk to work, I am a witness to the post-mortem proof of China's soccer obsession: Beijing's early-morning streets are sodden with the discarded clam shells and baijiu bottles of these alcohol-infused viewing parties.
While it has been unfortunate to not be in America during this World Cup, I don't feel that my experience of it has been greatly diminished; in fact, I feel more connected to this World Cup, and particularly this American team, than I did in 2006 or 2010. For this I have to thank two unceasingly clever and self-effacing balding British men, Roger Bennett and Michael Davies, who co-host a soccer show called Men in Blazers. It may seem counterintuitive that two Englishmen have made an American living in Beijing feel more connected to the World Cup than he did when he was actually living in America. This illuminates an underlying quality of the World Cup—something that makes it singular in the world of sport and in the greater context of nationalism.
In this World Cup, my unbridled love for one team has not hindered my love of many teams. Entering the tournament, I felt acutely the pain of the Dutch, and longed for them to defeat Spain and redeem their crushing defeat in the 2010 final; I have secret hopes that Mexico will win the World Cup, if only to live vicariously through the celebrations of its coach, Miguel Herrera; when Iran lost to Argentina after holding them to a 0-0 draw for almost the entire match, I was disappointed, almost devastated; I even felt the plight of the Ghanaian players, our kryptonite of tournaments past, because many of them were poorly compensated for the time and effort they put into training for this greatest of competitions, this global unifier with more reach than the UN.
This is not, as Ann Coulter and others before her have said, some 'socialist' phenomenon through which the world becomes akin to a globalized commune. This is an a-political, primal, human, connection— engendered by the very same instinct that begets unconditional love and stops unnecessary wars, that curbs the more malicious human instincts and ultimately preserves our species.
Football is the most human sport for other reasons as well. It is a sport that is both individualistic, and collective. It is a sport of Homeric heroes like Pelé, Maradona, Messi, and Ronaldo; it is equally a sport of determined teamwork, like that espoused by Italy and Spain. It is a sport that denies the most primordial tool— mankind's use of his hands— forcing players to discipline themselves into something unnatural, but ultimately more beautiful.
I carried all of these thoughts with me as I locked my apartment door later that evening, on my way to a bar on the expat-laden side of town where the match would be projected on a big screen, imported beer would be on tap, and fellow Americans would be plentiful. As I turned to walk out of the narrow concrete alleyway, the outdoor hallway that connected my apartment to the five other hutong dwellings, I noticed one of my neighbors smoking a cigarette in the fading dusk light.
An old man with a deceptively young face and a full head of hair, he greeted me, his face illuminated every few seconds by the flaring nicotine— intimate companion to so many Chinese men of his generation— that he pulled into his weathered lungs. Most Chinese men of his age would be preparing for bed at this point in the night. I asked him how he was.
"Not bad," he responded, his voice deep and throaty, "I'm just killing time before tonight's World Cup matches start."
Surprised, I asked if he was planning on watching the midnight match.
"All of them—I haven't missed a single one yet. I sleep some during the day…I'll wake up to eat, but otherwise my life revolves around these games." There was an unmistakable note of pride in his voice. We said our goodbyes.
"Good luck tonight," he called after me as my footsteps faded into the Beijing street.
On the way to the subway, I stopped for a quick chat with Lu Tao, a middle-aged man who owns a convenience store near my apartment. Lu Tao and I had become fast friends, as he always had some incisive comments to share on Chinese culture whenever I would walk into his shop. The neighborhood's resident philosopher, his bodega was a hodgepodge of Belgian beer, Chinese cigarettes and liquor, Korean sodas, as well as an international assortment of snack foods, cleaning supplies, and electronics. I knew him through the Belgian beer.
I mentioned that I was on my way to watch the USA match, to which Lu Tao responded: "You have no idea how disappointing it is that China is so utterly deplorable at football. We're a nation of 1.3 billion people! Look at Belgium—a country of 12 million and yet they have a team bursting with Premier League talent. But China, my country, has never produced a single star player."
I mentioned that I was equally baffled— the fact that China was so successful in the Olympics but not in football simply did not equate.
"Do you want to know why? Listen, I've been following the World Cup since I was 13— all these years, I've been waiting for a Chinese team to do our country proud. But it hasn't happened yet because of the corruption— the players aren't chosen purely on merit— they're chosen through connections, through money."
While this seemed like one exasperated fan's exaggeration, I didn't have time to press him for his rationale— the USA would take the field in a couple of hours, and I wanted to soak up as much pre-match atmosphere as possible— wanted to feel, for the first time in this World Cup cycle, like I was back in America.
I emerged from the subway and immediately noticed the difference between this Beijing and the Beijing I normally inhabited. Large, elegant advertisements for imported products littered the air, dwarfed only by the sleek glass buildings that housed Beijing's multinational corporations and trendy nightclubs. Ah, the Sanlitun district— great crutch of Beijing's expat community— Circe's cave to any Odysseus finding himself marooned in a loud, cluttered, pungent China.
As I walked across the brightly lit, clean promenades, I momentarily lost a sense of place. French, German, English, and Spanish filled the air, a clarion confirmation that I was not really in Beijing anymore. It was time to experience the World Cup as it was meant to be experienced.
I sidled my way through a crowd at the door and found myself in a raucous atmosphere where the foreign faces outnumbered the locals by a margin of six to one. At the bar were the requisite imports on tap, and the even more requisite crowd of foreigners clamoring for their next round. These transactions were carried out in English, the tongue of common denomination linking expatriate life everywhere. After several minutes, I got my Lagunitas IPA and headed up the beer-spattered stairwell to take my place among a crowd of unknown faces. The match will begin soon; the match will begin soon. I could think of nothing else, and those last minutes before the game began were excruciating. I had waited so long for this moment.
The room was fairly segregated, with a large consortium of white German jerseys on the left and a kaleidoscope of red, white, or blue t-shirts on the right (but very rarely all three colors on the same shirt). The Americans had come out in greater numbers, but the lack of official gear was a clear bellwether of the difference between the two groups' footballing dedication. The Americans were passing around pitchers of beer, chanting: "I BELIEVE THAT WE WILL WIN," in loud, convincing fashion.
I respected the way the German fans were acting— calm, collected, and serious, this game was not an excuse to party or act wild— it carried real gravity; they expected to win, they wanted more than anything to win, but they were the old-money football version of our new-money American soccer fans— they saved the celebrations for when they were warranted.
As the national anthem was about to begin, I started to feel warmth within, a punch-drunk confidence that we might just win this game. More than this, I was elated to be with a group that was equally as optimistic as I was. I believe began to ring back and forth, stirring up a passion and excitement unlike any that other sporting events have ever been able to kindle.
The television's audio went out just before the national anthem began, and nobody was singing along. I was disappointed, having expected a massive outburst from our side of the room. What was typically the greatest expatriate undertaking— belting the national anthem with a group of Americans in a foreign country— was in actuality like realizing that Santa Claus wasn't real. The room, still buzzing but not especially so, had failed to do the core thing I had expected to catapult this viewing party into something legendary.
The same thing happened with the Germans. They just sat there and continued chatting in their own quiet way, eyes glued to the screen, of course, but not showing any added signs of emotion.
The match began, and it was apparent very quickly that this was going to be a struggle for the American side. Within the first ten minutes, the Germans had most of the possession and some fortunate misses. But if a blind person had been in that audience, only capable of gauging the score through the reactions of the crowd, America would have been winning 10-0. The Americans in the audience were even cheering whenever the Germans would accidentally hit the ball out of bounds.
There was a Swede standing beside me who had notified me the moment I had met him that he would be rooting for the Germans. As the game progressed, he began chiding the Americans for being 'toddlers' when it came to football— not understanding the rules of the game. Whenever the Americans would cheer over some seemingly inconsequential play, he would replicate their chanting in a caveman-like voice. He joked with his English friend, over and over again, that the US fans were completely ignorant of what it was they were actually cheering for.
That may have been true for some of the Americans present, but for most of us, what he only saw as idiocy was a sheer sense of joy at being alive at this stage, in this group of death. It was a manifestation of what the World Cup is for so many nations not named Brazil, Germany, Spain, Argentina, Italy, or the Netherlands— hope. What Americans have for this team is hope, and nothing more— something not common in American sports on the international stage, for which we are usually the favorites, and for which expectations are usually the active ingredient. In football, now, at our peak, America is on a level playing field with countries like Costa Rica, South Korea, and Honduras. We are potent underdogs, and that is new for us. And it's exciting as hell.
As the game went on, I noticed that there were one or two Chinese people embedded with each group of expatriates: some wearing German or American jerseys and watching each play with intensity, others seated with French or Spanish speakers and seemingly not too committed in the outcome. This was comical, as any of these Chinese fans of Germany could just as easily have been sitting at another table rooting for America; their passion for Deutschland was a product of the chance encounter that had initially brought them together— perhaps on that street corner when they'd worked up the courage to start a conversation with a foreigner, or through any of the other myriad ways in which these connections are forged abroad. But it also spoke to a human truth— so many of our passions, our friendships, our careers, could have gone in a radically different direction.
The second half began, and each passing minute seemed to bring closer the inevitable moment when the Germans would finally score. Then, after an incredible save by USA goalie Tim Howard, they did. That goal, that magnificent, perfect goal, which came from the reflexive brilliance of Thomas Müller, caused an audible eruption in the German section, followed by a loud chorus of 'Deutschland, Deutschland…'
However, barely two lines into rejoicing in their national anthem, the Germans were interrupted, as the Americans began to chant 'U-S-A! U-S-A!' so loud that they drowned out the German celebration. This action reflects the general American notion that things happen only in relation to us, and that even in defeat we are victorious, simply because we are American. The Germans looked slightly taken aback by this behavior, as if they had done nothing to warrant it. Indeed, they hadn't.
It's one thing to love your country, to hope desperately for victory, and to writhe in pain when a perfect display of football, of Platonic beauty, comes at your team's expense. But to interrupt another team's celebration— their fair, hard-earned, ebullient moment— that's the type of mentality that has gotten America into its worst wars. That's the type of spirit that makes America, in spite of its overwhelming number of wonderful, world-leading attributes, a source of spite around the world.
Throughout the rest of the match, songs of "Deutschland" were traded at decibels with 'U-S-A' chants, and the German fans were ceaselessly subjected to a slew of harsh jibes, such as the classic "suck a dick!" and the old-time favorite "Germans are HORRIBLE people!" This was distracting, it was unnecessary, and it did a lot to dampen this long anticipated event, and, more so, my feelings of pride in my home country.
The 1-0 loss, coupled with the news that Portugal had beaten Ghana, was a great relief. The Germans had drastically outplayed us, but we had made some gritty defensive stops, and projected flashes of offensive brilliance. The Americans in Recife, Brazil had performed admirably; the Americans in Beijing, China had behaved badly.
I left the bar content, if not a little deflated that it would be another painful week of waiting before the next match. I walked with aloof steps to the subway station, finally ready to return to my apartment in that quiet hutong, to return to the part of town that I had come to love, that had come to define this city.
As the subway rolled under the surface of Beijing— under that city that has supported human life for three millennia; a place whose people were once something and then something else a hundred times over before they became Chinese— I looked around and stared at several of the World Cup themed advertisements dotting the cabin. One ad for KFC chicken sandwiches with buns baked to look like soccer balls, stood out: a perfect analogy for the way China has simultaneously consumed the world's game alongside its many other global products.
China, that nation whose rapid rise the Western world fears, that country filled with over one billion people who have never been abroad, whose most prominent link to the outside world is manifested in restaurants in the early morning, as football fans, feeling the residual excitement of other nations, sharing in the unbound fervor that only the World Cup can bring— an event that at once severs people and brings them closer together than they would otherwise ever become.
Beijing and Xinjiang, 2014
Hamlet and My Life in China
Originally published on The Airship.
'To be an expatriate, or not to be an expatriate: that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous Culture, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?'
The case of Hamlet is, in many ways, the case of the expatriate. Overnight, both find themselves in a world that does not really make sense. In relative terms, this foreign realm is not that different from the place the traveler calls home: people still drive cars to work, smoke cigarettes, and drink beer.
But the expatriate soon realizes that things are not what he or she expected them to be. For Hamlet, the state of Denmark is completely tainted by a change in his perception of the people around him. The formerly esteemed court, his father's Denmark, suddenly seems to him a hotbed of vice. He must wrestle with the total inversion of that former world, of everything he once knew. Nobody seems to understand him; he is completely alone. In this sense, Hamlet is the ultimate expatriate—a man bereft of any conception of home.
There is nobody more alone than an expatriate without a country; it is difficult to find in literature a character more isolated than Hamlet. You may try to make the outside world your home, but you will never truly be a part of that new world, whatever country it may be. The expatriate, like Hamlet, is a wanderer.
'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.'
I've lived abroad for a long time. Or, more importantly, I feel as though I've been away from home for a good while. But it seems less significant to wax on about the number of daysmonthsyears since I've called my home country home than it does to simply assure anyone who asks me that I now feel more at home in China than I do in America.
It is true—I have only lived there for a year and a half. A year and a half is not very long, and I'm obviously still in the honeymoon stages of my overseas engagement. But while one and a half years—or eighteen months, or 78 weeks—doesn't seem like a very long time, how exactly should one measure "time abroad?" A month in Shanghai can seem like a short errand run to Chinatown; a month in Mongolia might feel like ten decades on Mars.
'I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space—were it not that I live in China.'
Indeed, those living out-of-country and those living at home in America seem to have very different ways of calibrating this "time abroad" thing. For my friends back home, every individual month that ticks by seems to give me extra credibility as that much more of a "knower" concerning all things "Asian." But in China, time is irrelevant. There, most expats are not grouped into different categories based on the amount of time they've registered overseas, or on their respective age groups, but rather on their respective mental health.
'Good Expat, cast thy nighted colour off, and let thine eye look like a friend on China.'
Some expatriates wander between the nether-regions of boredom, frustration, bitterness, and self-doubt: shouting expletives at anything overly "Chinese;" stalking the widely paved sidewalks of communism with an acerbic look in their eyes; jumping at the chance to eat any Western foods they can get their I've-spent-too-much-time-abroad-and-thus-this-McDonald's-hamburger-is-the-greatest-thing-I've-ever-tasted hands on.
'Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love China.'
Others—usually the newly-arrived expats (read: intercultural newlyweds)—take every cultural mishap in perfect stride, labeling even the most painful mistakes as an "experience" that can be dissected into some sort of "look-at-what-I've-learned-about-Western-culture-from-token-non-Westerners.blogspot.com" discourse.
These young souls can be spotted easily on any typical Chinese street-corner, as they spend an inordinate amount of time fielding questions from complete strangers about their home country, and what it's like living abroad in China. "How do you like China? Are you accustomed to eating Chinese food? How much is your salary? Would your mother let you marry a Chinese girl? Would your mother let you marry me?"
For these primaveral expats, every day is Christmas: Santa Claus is real, and his gifts present themselves in the form of gawking locals bearing countless opportunities for language practice and inter-cultural analysis.
'There are more things in China and America, Expatriate, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'
I fall somewhere in the middle. I can feel that crotchety expat's disillusionment growing within me, and things tend to piss me off now more than they used to. But I still get a sense of naive excitement when overhearing a conversation that I inevitably feel has given me "insight" into another culture and, ultimately, my own country's mores.
The spice of living outside of America is still jolting enough to keep things exciting, like Marco Polo's descriptions of distant kingdoms in Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities: lands and urban centers opulent to the imagination take shape and become real in the mind of Genghis Khan, their very foreign-ness and mystique being the key to what makes them somehow tangible. It is, after all, the possibility of something truly unknown that keeps the itinerant soul upon the masthead, looking transfixed over a swirling sea of blue-gray and out into nothingness. At any moment the void could break and reveal stretches of whatever it is you've been waiting for.
This great desire is for something new, and it can never, ever, be sated; the Indies lie always on the horizon.
'Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not 'seems.''
If this boundless desire for novel experiences can't be satisfied, why not make something up? This is perhaps the greatest license available to any expat. Transitioning from a life in your home country—speaking your native language with people who have grown up in the same culture as you—to one on foreign shores is equivalent to the difference between children playing with real toys and children inventing abstract games with their minds. In the former scenario, the toy gun is a cheap imitation; in the latter, the absence of any prop whatsoever gives the child the ultimate freedom to invent whatever type of gun suits his fancy.
Similarly, foreign countries become blooming gardens of the imagination: every moment is seeped in contextual clues that you've never encountered before, and therefore the possibilities for creative ascription are limitless—bound only by the constraints of your own dynamic willpower.
'America's a prison.'
While walking down the sidewalk one day, I overheard a woman on the street saying to her friend, "咱们吃饭就行 (zanmen chifan jiu xing)," which translates to "let's just eat and it'll be fine." I remember thinking to myself: "Egads! What a perfect encapsulation of Chinese culture! Simply eating food is enough to be happy—the Chinese value their culinary tradition so much!"
Later on, I shared the observation with a Chinese friend. She insisted that I had missed whatever must have preceded the statement; my interpretation was incorrect and what I had overheard was likely someone implying to their friend that they didn't need to bring any gifts to the meal. This was no isolated instance: while abroad, I regularly take inane conversations and interpret them in such a light that they become representative of the entire country's ethos (or, more likely, what I presume the country's ethos to be).
This is a human exercise—one that Marco Polo surely must have participated in, and one that the seekers of novelty—expatriates of the world—tend to utilize overzealously. There is little room for this in one's homeland—the conversations you overhear on the street make sense, and they don't allow for much abstract interpretation. Indeed, life back home can be downright boring.
'I knew it, Expatriate: a country of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. It hath borne me on its back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is!'
But did this malaise with life in America only come about after I had already lived abroad? Or is that what caused my departure in the first place? Perhaps I was already feeling an absence of something; I really don't remember.
Regardless of the reasons—for there are certainly too many to name and explain—it will suffice to say that time moves much slower in America than it seems to in [insert the name of token 'exotic' country here]. This new, foreign world, once seen, will never leave me. Now, the feeling of isolation and utter fear of my surroundings only sets in when I'm back in America. I'm not sure if it's caused by the bathos of re-habituation to the 'ordinary,' or if exposure to a different world has brought on an irrevocable distaste for that which is easily understood.
But back to the hinterlands (of China, for now) I go—until I grow old and realize that life is essentially the same everywhere and that only one true quest remains: to sail beyond the sunset.
13 January, 2013
My Last 48 Hours in China
A short video story I made recounting my last two days in China, after living in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region for two years.
An Ode to Old Wives' Tales
It's strange being told the reason for some bodily phenomenon by someone from another culture. The advice always comes in the same cookie-cutter, old-wives-tale, assured-because-my-mother-told-me-so fashion: you need to drink hot water, or you'll get sick; you need to wear more clothes, or you'll get a cold; you need to see a traditional Chinese doctor—Western medicine is overrated; you have to drink tea to stay healthy; it is better to eat medicinal foods than to take medicine in pill form; you should always take a walk after a meal; don't eat in restaurants—it's unhealthy; don't drink coca-cola or other beverages—you should only drink water; never drink anything cold, especially not with ice; ice? in a drink? are you crazy? you'll get sick and die!
The universal Chinese cure for everything—ranging from the common cold to a broken leg to a divorce—is to 多喝点水! (duo he dian shui), or, in English: drink more water! It is the anthem to which each Chinese soul steps in unison, a billion three-hundred million people sharing this common cultural value. No, the Chinese do not all concur about the virtues of Communism or the glory of Mao Zedong; instead, the only thing they can all agree on is this one infallible principle, by which one merely ought to drink plenty of hot water. If you can follow this sagely advice, all ailments will leave your body faster than a foreigner can figure out how to spell and correctly pronounce 'Genghis Khan.'
While I do understand that drinking a lot of water is very healthy and that Coca-Cola is unhealthy, I fail to understand this predominant concern with the temperature of things. In the classroom, it can be 70 degrees inside but if it's cold outside, my students will all continue wearing their heavy winter coats for the duration of class. When, in the heat of a lecture, I decide to discard a sweater, opting to downsize to a single layer, I am greeted with the gasps and shocked, pallid faces of concerned Chinese youth. It's as if they've already begun to grieve about the sealed fate of their pitifully misinformed foreign teacher—chronic illness and a certain, early death.
I can only guess that this phenomenon arises from the fact that the majority of Chinese people are either raised by or in close proximity to their grandparents. From a young age, the people of the People's Republic are indoctrinated with the primordial fears that the elderly have of things like the cold (after all, the gray-haired members of the human project lose body heat at a rate far higher than adults or children do), handed down from grandparent to grandchild for millennia. It makes sense, therefore, that my young students were baffled at the fact that I would wittingly remove a layer during the winter season.
We just have a different understanding of the word. The winter, for me, is a season dictated by whether I am outside or inside. If I am inside a heated room, it ceases to be winter there in that moment. The idea of winter still pervades my senses, and I am much more likely to consider drinking eggnog. But as far as the physiological side of my body is concerned, I follow the ambient temperature, not a psychological idea of what the temperature should be. But for the Chinese student, it doesn't matter how hot the room is—the notion of winter has cemented itself firmly around the student's frame of consciousness. Refusing to let go, the cold takes on a demonic persona: it tempts one to get comfortable, to be tricked into disobeying old grandma back in the village. Yes, the cold is all in your head, there's really nothing to it…go ahead, relax, take off your coat and stay a while it seems to whisper. Ever the misguided foreigner, I am easy prey for these daemons of the arctic.
But these Chinese values have gradually become instilled in my daily habits. After just a year and a half, I now only drink hot water; I try to wear a sweater inside until I get so hot I can't bear it anymore; and I drink as much green tea as possible. This shift was a conscious one at first, where I would say to myself ha! look at you, drinking hot water! who do you think you are, Lawrence of China? But then, gradually, it became a part of my repertoire—something that went unnoticed and became so indispensable to my everyday life that to ignore the advice of my students was to fall prey to some East Asian ice-god's malediction.
Now, when I get sick, I inevitably come to the conclusion that my body's cosmic balance is off somehow—that if only I hadn't gone outside wearing just one layer under my jacket—if only I hadn't opted to drink coffee instead of green tea the day before—if only I hadn't lazily decided to drink that cup of water it in its lukewarm, anemic state: then all of my maladies would be gone, left back in America where people are fat and overmedicated and addicted to Coca-Cola and ice in their drinks.
As it turns out, these students were here to teach me something. Grandmothers of China, I salute you!
3 January, 2013
Let's go have a drink he said. But my stomach was upset and I was on time change and I didn't care for a drink although this was Istanbul and the cafe was beautiful and oh, what the hell, a drink might calm my coming-from-nowhere anger that arose from every corner of every action that they, my parents, seemed to perform. A drink then.
Father let's have a drink I said; and son what would you like—it's your birthday! he responded; and I asked to have what anyone has on their birthday and so I had that, sipped it down. We ordered another.
And it was my birthday and so where would you like to go see today? they asked, and somewhere was the start of an answer; and of course the great, famous mosque was where we would go, so we finished our third drink and began to walk; it was a good city for walking.
I trampled the dead streets beneath my feet; this, my second time here in this spellbinding city, Istanbul. We were in Istanbul, and I had been here once before. But I suppose there's nothing special about that, because Istanbul is so old and the concierge at our fancy hotel seemed like he'd seen me at least a thousand times over the three thousand years that this city had been headed toward being called Istanbul—seemed like he knew me and Istanbul better than I knew myself, because I myself was meant to enjoy my day of birth—was meant to get my maximal gain out of the whole damn thing. My parents had paid a lot of money for the airplane ticket, and this was their son, was their baby boy who was back from China, for now.
But I hadn't been born on this day: I'd been born twenty-three years earlier, on a day that called itself today, and in that instant it seemed that this city—the place that had called itself Byzantium then Constantinople and now Istanbul—was waiting for me to arrive all along. So of course we would go to the mosque that was actually a museum because it was famous and it meant so much to so many it meant theworld was connected through a soul through god through channels of prayer and marble and taxis and expensive airplane tickets and cocktails.
We were drunk, wandering amidst the whirr of concrete and stone porticos, the kebab peddlers and ice cream stands, when suddenly that cathedral-turned-mosque-turned-museum came into view and look at the nuance in the marble she said; my mother was right and I hadn't noticed it. But I didn't care for the marble or the historical import it carried—probably it was the alcohol,the drug,the intoxicating liquid that had been promised by many to make me enjoy this day,my birthday. It was the day I was born on: two decades and two years plus one, now, ago.
Let's go somewhere else I said, (did I say?) as the buzz began to fade we walked across the painted streets, smeared with the colors of old/new stone, mixed with the soft warm fleeting light of stale afternoons that inevitably ran away to some place where there were no mosques ; then we were on the sidewalk and the cars whipped around the corner moving fast look at the Bosporus somebody said; then we too were moving very fast and I could see beautiful women with dark eyes and even darker hair and soon everything was dark outside and it was time for a birthday dinner with wine, the shade of which white—hectic red—? didn't matter because it was the feeling it gave you that mattered. But I couldn't focus I was really drunk now I kept seeing her, that girl I loved here three years ago, and I was there then/now but I wanted to be there just now.
Let's have a rest we said let's get some sleep let' s twenty three,twenty-two+1:
words,numbers you grew up so fast they said I'm not grown yet I
said; my mother began to cry on the table;
Let's go somewhere else the world said let's go back I wished I had said:
'to three summers ago,' 'three suns or moons ago,'
'just a measure of time
let's go back 'three measurements ago:' 'three lost loves ago;' I wanted something to measure
a previous visit
the previous Istanbuls the previous me's/I's.
My birthday was
10 June, 2012
Water and Tea
It was a blur.
It was a blur that reached out onto our restaurant table and wove itself into the napkins and our glasses of tea and water. It was very clear.
It was very clear that this blur that existed in the space between our sips of water and our vocal chords was what I had tasted on many occasions. I wondered if its opacity was mutually transparent.
I smiled. We'd been friends for the year, my year in China. We'd been friends for this, my first year in China—abroad—and we went to meals together once or twice a week. In typical Chinese fashion, we alternated between who treated whom to dinner. This time it was my treat. The last time it had been his.
We were friends for the extent of a year. A year was a long time. We knew each other well, and this was my treat.
I was not merely taking my friend out to eat spicy chicken with noodles (the chicken came on a big plate with flat white noodles); thestakes were higher: I was taking the possibility for interconnectedness between people from disparate cultures out to dinner as well.
I sat there awkwardly and consumed this heavy serving of clarity—that we had had so many dinners like this very one and that our meals had always come with a side order of the same, dull dinner-table conversations. And then I wanted to leave the table, wanted to escape the haze of in-between and its rich hoisin (hoisin? really? was it?) sauce. It was a dark brown; it was a bright red; it was spicy.
It was spicy and it stung my nose and confused me. It was dark and rich and beautiful indescribable and yet here it was, asking me to describe it.
The best I could do was to say that we weren't friends—that our year together had been spent playing with our forks, gently pushing the food around our plates without really knowing what it was or why we continued eating it. We were posturing at being full.
And then it appeared that we had continued eating it because we believed that eventually the cultural issues would break away and we would find each other truly interesting. So I kept asking him to lunch, or dinner. We continued eating that chicken with wide noodles and the rich hoisin sauce because there was nothing else to do; because we had forgotten how to order anything else; because Will the intercultural interloper was looking for some savory dish of an experience to bring home with him after his year abroad and serve piping hot to my friends and family and potential colleagues. Internationalism was social currency.
I took another bite; the dish was cold. We put our napkins down, said our goodbyes, and went to our separate apartments where we would listen to different music sung in tones that were linguistically comprehensible but emotionally unintelligible.
We walked out, leaving behind the tea in our glasses; it tasted like water but called itself tea.
14 June, 2012
Our Last Night in the Park
We walked through the trees, and the snow, and there was no sound but your breath and the resounding glances we would take deep into each other's eyes in the darkness among the firm, old oaks. Perhaps they weren't oaks.
We walked deep into the recesses of the small park, standing between the saplings and trying to find solace from whatever you called 'reality.' We stood still like the trees, embracing like long lost lovers who knew that after years of waiting, there could only be this last moment, and then nothing.
We were quiet, sentimental, and your touch was delicate and soft, like the powdered snow that rested on the ground and surrounded our feet. There was only this moment and nothing else: the sweet black of your eyes and your short hair and the way your head warmed my hands.
You whispered that it was our last night together, and I wished secretly that we could somehow be unstuck from time's cruel forward assault, that we could be light, not carrying any of the weight that our feet did as they trudged among the soft, urban snow.
There was no rustle in the branches, no sound of birds moving to build a nest or tend to their bellies; there was only the movement of our winter jackets as we slowly made each other feel okay again, tenderly changing my grip around your back, wanting to hold you in every way possible. But the snow was fresh and comforting and it hugged our feet and seemed to beckon them into submission: "don't move," it breathed.
Then I heard an inevitable car's honk and realized that it was probably close to 1AM and that you would return to your dormitory soon; I would be left alone, once more. My feet were cold and I needed to blow my nose and so I unzipped my jacket pocket and pulled out the tissue, as white as snow, and blew into it the reality of my body—the warm, contrasting truth that now needed a garbage bin so as not to be considered 'littering,' so as not to ruin the idyllic scene that we had made, painted, for ourselves. I walked out of the clearing and over to the bright yellow box and tossed the tissue inside its dark recesses. I came back and you were there waiting but it was different. Your phone rang; it was your roommate.
We left the place where you had hidden your memory, your moment, deep within your heart; that forest that was filled with ancient oaks and resplendent redwoods carved deep into the glistening, radiant moon-filled snow that went up to our knees and kept us there for eternity. For you, the sun never came up, the birds never started their busy day, the cars were nowhere to be found, and the only thing that moved was our pulsing hearts as we stayed there, frozen, wrapped in an unrelenting embrace that was sweet and tender and, never to end.
You told me that nobody had ever made you feel this way, that you were your true self with me. Then you said goodbye.
I kissed you and it felt as though it were a mere stamp upon something inevitable, like a formality added at the last second to fulfill some sort of bureaucratic protocol. There was nothing real in it, because every second that the kiss lasted for was just a reminder that I was so much closer to the kiss's conclusion—our own sudden, clear-cut consummation.
It ended. It had to, it seems. I looked at you and sensed a disconnect—suddenly, we weren't inhabiting the same place anymore: you were still in that imaginary forest dreaming about our eternal moment. You were there, back in the warm blanket you'd knitted of knee-deep shimmering snow; but I was standing next to my apartment on the pavement, the materials that had been constructed by the Chinese provincial government in the 1990's in order to attract the Han Chinese to come and live in this city—this pile of smog and concrete—of crumbling apartment buildings with questionable construction.
She said goodbye, turning the other way faster than I ever expected. She didn't turn around; she was gone. I wanted to cough: to show her that things weren't pure and clean like she wanted, imagined, in her delirium. Suddenly, I became angry—knew that she would never feel how I felt and hated her for her ability to transcend this place—this hard concrete hell—and replace it with that pillow of imaginary snow, that same frozen-water-substance that had left its mark on my wet and frozen feet. I shivered.
28 February, 2012
The Accidental Bactrian
It sure can be hard to find milk in China. Let me clarify. The Chinese have milk a-plenty; that is, they have lots of drinks that look like they should be milk, once you overlook the fact that they are in fact not refrigerated and come from a powder. Hankering for some Calcium? Tired of all the extra hardship that opening up and reaching into a refrigerator presents? Like watery milk? Well you've come to the right country! China—the land where futuristic milk is all the rage!
Well actually it turns out I'm in luck, as I've found that the native, non-Han peoples of Xinjiang province—Uyghurs, Kazakhs, Kyrgyz, and Tajiks—happen to love milk. Fresh, delicious, rich, REFRIGERATED! milk. Last weekend I visited Urumqi, the ultra-diverse provincial capital. The streets were littered with people that looked like they could have been any combination of East Asian, Central Asian, and European descent. Shop signs featured Chinese, Russian, and Uyghur. Urumqi is very unlike the city I live in—a bastion of Han identity, 95% of those living in Shihezi are the Han Chinese descendants of soldiers who fought in Mao's army. With abounding diversity in every direction, it quickly became obvious that I wasn't in China anymore.
I went to a Uyghur restaurant with a Kazakh friend who, while on the phone, received a frosty mug full of delicious, thick looking MILK. After greedily watching him gulp down the stuff in a matter of seconds, I promptly called the 服务员 (waitress fuwuyuan) and had my own frosty mug within minutes. My eyes feasted on its cold, consistent milkiness. I lifted the chalice, felt the chill of the glass against my hand, and took a hearty sip of…WHAT IS THIS? I asked my Kazakh friend.
'Uh?' he replied, as if I were some kind of ignorant person: 'well, it's camel's milk.'
So now I've had myself some camel's milk, and indeed it wasn't so bad after all. At first, I thought I was drinking some sort of perfectly chilled drinkable yogurt. It wasn't quite as sour as goat's milk, but it was definitely a shock to my palate. So I said to the waitress: 'Excuse me, I thought that my friend had ordered milk…er, I mean, cow's milk…could you please bring me a glass of cow's milk instead?'
'Cow's milk?' her eyes gesticulated a look of supreme suspicion: 'We don't have that kind of milk here.'
Perhaps I had offended her, I don't really know. What I do know is that I saddled up and continued drinking that Camel's milk like Lawrence of China—the slightly less famous but equally badass man of yore who went from village to village on the Northwestern Chinese steppe in a similar fashion to that of Lawrence of Arabia, drinking Camel's milk all the while.
So in essence I've learned not to assume anything. That, and the fact that Camel's milk tastes like sour yogurt.
December 11, 2012


text:
Asymmetric Marketing applies concepts of asymmetric warfare to the world of modern business. It looks at the battle that is taking place between two brands in the marketplace and applies unique principles designed to help the smaller participant to win.
Why the allusion to warfare when talking about business? Most students of business strategy know that the similarities are striking and that many of the best business leaders have learned the concepts of warfare to understanding how to compete. The dominant ideology in business today is that of conflict between competitors in a rapidly evolving marketplace. One of the most widely read "business" books of all time is Sun Tzu's The Art of War.
Asymmetric warfare is defined as "Warfare between forces unequal in size, composition, or means; specifically, warfare in which a smaller or ostensibly inferior force uses unexpected, unconventional tactics to its advantage in combating a larger or apparently superior adversary."
Asymmetric Marketing consists of: principles, systems, processes, and a set of tools. The application of Asymmetric Marketing will assist organizations in effective competition against larger, better capitalized, or more firmly entrenched adversaries.
Principles of Asymmetric Marketing (and military strategy):
- Objective
- Offensive
- Mass
- Economy of Force
- Maneuver
- Unity of Command
- Security
- Surprise
- Simplicity
- Flexibility
How will Asymmetric Marketing help you?
- We will work with your team to create a new paradigm for how you look at the marketplace and your competition.
- We will gain deep insight into your key competitors.
- We will evaluate the strengths and weaknesses of your business and that of your competition.
- We will work with you to select a set of strategic objectives.
- We will select the best tactics, assets, systems, processes, and tools to achieve the objectives.
- We will work with you to select a set of metrics that will allow us to measure progress.
- We will help you implement your new Asymmetric Marketing Plan.


text:
Address: 2104 Malaview Ave
City: Sidney
Province: BC
Postal Code: V8L2E4
Main Intersection:
Malaview Ave & Beacon
Phone: 250-656-5581
Fax: 250-656-5576
Email: firstname.lastname@example.com
Owner: Rob Peters
General Manager: Rob Peters
CSN Member Since: 2012
Shop Hours:
MON - FRI: 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.
Schedule an appointment online with CSN - SUPERIOR today!
Our mission is to bring safety, reliability and trust to every Canadian car owner.
CSN Superior is trusted and endorsed by the following major insurance companies:
"The staff are all extremely friendly and really accommodating. The service was awesome. They repaired the dent in my front fender pretty quickly, kept me updated on my car's status in the shop via text, and they gave the car a detail and made the rental drop off/pick up quick and easy. And to assure me that sure they really appreciated my business, they left a thank you card in the car. It only sucks that you have to go to Superior Collision if you're in an accident! But if you are, this is definitely the place to go. 10/10 guys! Thanks!"
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"I am really grateful for Superior Collision. A small indent had formed on my driver's door because the edge hit a wall. Although the indent was small, the passenger door edge was catching and making noise when opening and closing; that would have resulted in more damage over time. Superior Collision took a quick look at it. As they notice the damage was minimal, they offered to repair for free with a special hammer and it took them 5 minutes. It showed me that this company has great values and I wanted to share this here to thank them. They care about their customers and how they are perceived in the area. So thank you!"
I-Car Gold Glass Achievement
When your car has been in a collision, getting it repaired properly is critical for your family's safety and your peace of mind. But how do you know if a shop has the up-to-date knowledge to repair your vehicle safely?
The Gold Class designation lets you know a collision repair shop has trained technicians who know how to repair your vehicle properly. Approximately 20% of collision repair shops currently complete the rigorous training requirements needed to meet the Gold Class standard.
A CSN On Line, we make sure our customers drive off in a properly repaired vehicle. By completing the I-CAR® Gold Class™ program, our technicians maintain the latest information and expertise so that you can be assured the repairs to your vehicle are of the highest quality.
More information: I-Car Gold Class
CSN Superior is a Profirst Certified Collision Centre.
When you want professional, quality collision repair, consider a ProFirst Certified Body Shop.
All ProFirst Certified shops are validated for their skill and expertise, commitment to a complete, proper and safe repair, to ongoing industry education, and to customer satisfaction. Each shop is validated annually by an independent third party to help ensure a high standard of repair quality.
Every year CSN Superior joins The Acoat selected National Benevolence Program which allows local community businesses, such as ourselves, to give back to the community that we live in, work in, and depend on.
This program involves repairing damaged vehicles that have been "written off" by their owner's and insurance companies, and giving them away to individuals in need of safe, reliable transportation.
At CSN Superior we feel very fortunate to be involved with such a charitable project. Last year the entire community got involved by donating not only the car, but also insurance, tires, parts, mechanical services, and over 40 local businesses donated food and gifts that were placed in the vehicle. It is truly the community that puts the vehicles together.


text: 4-27-2009 You may have noticed some changes in the graphical materials from HTC during the last couple of months. This is because we are introducing our new Corporate Identity. HTC is a global company with a high development speed. Several new products or concepts see the light of day every year. This is why a strong and common profile is an important part of HTC's development and success. The most noticeable change for our customers is the new brand logotypes. As HTC communicate on many different markets, both in a global and domestic respect and to different parts of the flooring business, logos have to be easily recognized as an HTC brand. Therefore the HTC star will from now on always appear as an element in concept logos. This also means that both of our well known concepts HTC Superfloor™ and HTC Twister™ now have an updated logotype. The new graphical profile will be implemented on all new materials being produced which mean that during the transition you may find both new and old versions of logotypes out on the market. Below you see a few of the new logotypes: Senior Marketing Specialist HTC Sweden AB Mats Tikkanen +46 121 294 00 firstname.lastname@example.com


text:
Who Called Us
Lower your interest rate last chance of the season press 1. To stop receiving these calls press 2. If you press one it transfers you to "Consumer Services." When asked who this is they repeat "Consumer Services" do you have a visa, mastercard or american express you would like to lower your interest rate. When I told them no, they hung up.
May 24th, 2008
1 Comments


text:
This AMV for Full Metal Alchemist is probably one of the more epic videos I've seen. This was a really great video, and managed to hold its own without lyrics.
Great choice of clips for this video, it manages to tell the story and set the tone of FMA without the need for lyrics
Execution and Timing
The time was good but could have been better, it felt choppy some times.
Visuals and Effects
This video didn't use many visual effects at all and focused on clipping, and minor transition effects.
Audio and Video Quality
The quality of the video and audio wasn't bad, I would have preferred better video, the audio however was excellent.
Anime: Full Metal Alchemist
Song: Clint mansell – Requiem For A Dream
Video by: Bobby Spagnol
Outlaw Rave
Founding Member of Anime Arsenal. Outlaw Rave writes reviews for Anime and Manga primarily as well as reviews of AMVs while also doing most of the photohop editing and composites for the site as well as original Anime Music Videos. Favorite Anime(s): Escaflowne, Sword Art Online, Gundam 00, Cowboy Beebop, Fate Stay/Nite, Fate Zero, Air TV, Attack on Titan, Mirai Nikki, Hellsing Ultimate.


text: We're excited to help you protect your investment in your winery, vineyard or brewery. Please fill out this brief quote form and a licensed agent from our office will be in touch. You may also email Peter Pabalate or Steven Tomich directly. Name *Email *Phone Number: *Where is your winery, vineyard or brewery located: *I would like a quote on: *Winery InsuranceVineyard InsuranceBrewery InsuranceBusiness Insurance (including auto)Farm Insurance (including crops)OtherOptional Message for Agent:EmailSubmit


text:
Yeah and I was looking and I was like, "God, these all look so familiar..." Well, that's because I scanned them and/or cropped Perry out and posted them in the Schon Girls thread at the Cooler.
I'm sort of like, "Hhhhh" because it's not easy to scan a 2x3 POSTER only to not get credited for my obsessive hard work, but hey. They did give me a link on the links page and I do get a bit of traffic from it.
So, er, I guess everyone who goes to Neal's official site will enjoy my mad scanning skills.


text:
KSTAR Physician Resources
KSTAR (Knowledge, Skills, Training, Assessment and Research) is an internationally recognized program that provides comprehensive and individualized assessments and educational programs for physicians who have perceived needs or want to return to practice after a prolonged absence. The main goal of KSTAR is to optimize patient safety by providing solutions that will benefit the physician, the health care system and the patient.
KSTAR is unique from other assessments centers because of our ability to do ongoing monitoring of a physician's practice through the Institute's Physician Peer Review Program. KSTAR can also create and oversee individualized learning plans when needed and continues to work on partnering with other institutions to provide training options.
KSTAR works collaboratively with the National Coalition for Physician Enhancement (CPE) and state medical boards.
Assessments and Evaluations:
- Physician Assessments
- Fitness for Duty Evaluations
- Senior Physician Evaluations
- Hospitalist Evaluations
Reentry opportunities:
- KSTAR/UTMB Health Mini-Residency Program
- Individualized reentry programs
CME Courses:
- Medical Records
- Pharmacology and Prescribing of Opioids & Other Controlled Medications
- Risk Management
- Best Practices in Communication
- Team Communication
- Essentials of Opioid Prescribing
- Grand Rounds Clinical Case Series


text:
When I skate, I often ruminate… about something & everything that seems to need my attention… and much is usually revealed. I regularly have conversations with Ellen and Oprah. It's a very comfortable hang and their input is always inspirational, and I always seem to understand a little more about myself. I guess any really good conversation is like that but oh those 2 gals… can't wait to meet them.
Didn't chat with them on my skate last night but was reflecting on my CD and career, and this has been a VERY good meeting and planning week so far with more to come. The snail may be leaving the building.
We're recording HIT SONGS (the thought hit me pretty hard upside the head this time). Will they be hit records again?


text:
Access: Creating More On-Ramps
No, this is not related to concrete or asphalt highways. It's about the continuing journey of Age-Friendly Sarasota to support and expand access opportunities for our community to connect, learn, and share. John W. Gardner was a prolific twentieth-century leader, activist, author and reformer. In his 1972 book, In Common Cause, he noted "The two most important forms of access are adequate information and a means of participating." There is great value in having access, and that value multiplies when you share it. As a member of the World Health Organization Global Network, AARP's National Network, and AARP Florida's State Network of Age-Friendly Communities, Age-Friendly Sarasota (AFS) has access to significant learning and sharing opportunities including information-rich webinars. As part of its ongoing efforts to connect, learn, and share, AFS is creating convening opportunities around specific topic areas.
Recent AFS Convenings – September 2018:
Grantmakers in Aging (GIA) offered a webinar called "Creating an Age-Friendly State." Panelists featured Robin Lipson from the Massachusetts Executive Office of Elder Affairs, Nora Moreno Cargie of the Tufts Health Plan Foundation, and Nora Obrien Suric of the Health Foundation for Western & Central New York. Each shared how NY and MA became the first two age-friendly states in America.
– Leveraging existing community resources, identifying new opportunities, and building coalitions
– Creating better communities for all — great places to grow up and grow old
Local and state organizations participating through an invitation from Age-Friendly Sarasota included the Sarasota Department of Health, AARP Florida and the Florida Department of Elder Affairs.
A webinar titled "Local Planning: A tool for making livable communities" was presented as part of AARP's SWAT Team Speaker Series by Jordan S. Yin, author of Urban Planning for Dummies and a leading advocate for community involvement in urban planning. It was an overview of how and why communities make and use local plans.
Key takeaways:
– Nobody knows a community better than its residents
– Engagement builds commitment
– The future belongs to everyone
Local participants in this webinar included the Sarasota Department of Health, Sarasota County Government, and members of the Age-Friendly Sarasota team.
Recently, AARP Florida presented a webinar focused on the Age-Friendly Domain of Livability: Health Services & Community Supports. It featured Jennifer Johnson of the Florida Department of Health. Her overview included significant information on the State Health Improvement Plan (SHIP) which sets out goals for Florida's public health system. The intended audience included statewide age-friendly communities. Age-Friendly Sarasota extended some additional local invitations.
In future months, Age-Friendly Sarasota will continue to expand sharing access to such informational resources around topical areas like housing, economic development, transportation, public spaces, planning, and reframing aging. Getting people together to help identify common goals, align existing resources, and build potential collaborative relationships is beneficial to all. It starts with expanding access and building more on-ramps to communal efforts to enhance our "community for all ages."
- TAGS: Silos to Systems
- CATEGORIES: Age-Friendly Movement, Communication and Information


text:
Did you know that 50% of yearly sales for many B2B companies come from online transactions? With a percentage like that it's a wonder why only 25% of B2B companies have an online presence. It seems like several B2B companies are missing out on the huge competitive advantage that B2B ecommerce software delivers. Our new B2B ecommerce infographic has several enlightening statistics, just like this, for B2B companies.
The infographic, "eCommerce á la Cart," is shaped like a restaurant menu and focuses on a theme of food. The reason for this is that food is delicious, and that B2B ecommerce statistics are much more enjoyable to view if surrounded by pies and fine cutlery. Don't get us wrong, B2B ecommerce statistics are interesting enough, and they don't need all the fancy graphics to make them more, shall we say, digestible… but who doesn't love pie?
Did you know that business to business has the largest U.S. ecommerce revenue by market!?! It's over twice as big as business to consumer and over 90 times as big as business to government. How big is it exactly? Well, you'll just have to look at the infographic to find out.
"eCommerce á la Cart" offers a fine selection of information for those interested in the facts of B2B ecommerce; however, we didn't put this together just because we love ecommerce software. We put it together because we make ecommerce software. That's right. e2b anytime apps is the developer of Anytime Commerce, the business to business ecommerce storefront. Check out the infographic to see what you're missing out on without an ecommerce storefront (or perhaps get a reminder of what you have).
You can view the infographic, easy as pie, by clicking this link. And don't worry about being gluttonous, as long as you share!
About anytime apps:
e2b anytime apps (www.e2banytime.com) develops software-as-a-service (SaaS), cloud-based business software including Anytime Collect collections software, Anytime Commerce B2B e-commerce storefront, Anytime 500 add-ons for Sage 500 ERP, Anytime Supply Chain for Intuit Quickbooks and Intacct Financials, Anytime Docs document management , and Anytime Assets inventory and asset tracking.
by Josh Bailey Google+