A nagging dilemma is how to to get child categories in Wordpress to selectively inherit their parent's theme, which is in category-x.php.

This is probably not the most elegant solution, but going off on what someone said in a WP forum , and some code from Lorelle, here's what I came up with. Since I only have four categories to check, I'm not too concerned about the server load.

Put this in the category.php page, which will now serve as a template switcher.

< ?php $this_category = get_category($cat); ?>
< !-- If category is parent, list it -->
< ?php if ($this_category->category_parent == 0) { ?>

< ?php $this_category->category_parent = $cat; ?>
< ?php } else { ?>
< !-- If category is not parent, list parent category -->
< ?php $parent_category = get_category($this_category->category_parent); ?>

< ?php
$pid=$parent_category->cat_ID;
if ($pid=='7')
    include (TEMPLATEPATH . '/category-7.php');
elseif ($pid=='6')
include (TEMPLATEPATH . '/category-6.php');

else

?>


< ?php } ?>

Description

One of the most brilliant songs ever written... so not very hopeful, and it's just... well, brilliant with some great lines in there.

Lyrics:

Made-to-Order Babies - Motherlode Blog - NYTimes.com

The idea of the "designer babies" is not that far fetched....

The question has roared back into the headlines this month, first with the birth of the octuplets — which to so many of us seems like Exhibit A of IVF-run-amok — and now by a story in yesterday’s Wall Street Journal about the potential use of something called preimplantation genetic diagnosis to choose physical traits in a baby, like hair color and eye color.

P.G.D. was created so that parents who carried genes for life-threatening disease could be assured of having healthy children. Embryos created by IVF are tested at the three-day stage, and only those that are free of disease are transferred to the uterus. Theoretically, one could look for any gene in those embryos. And the reporter Gautam Naik quotes Fertility Institutes, a Los Angeles Clinic, as saying they will begin to offer exactly that service, allowing couples “a pre-selected choice of gender, eye color, hair color and complexion,” whether or not they were also screening for serious illness at the same time.

R seems to be the best free statistical software out there. So, I'm going to give it a try. I've used SAS, SPSS, and Stata.. I don't know how it compares to them. But, the problem is that it's been a while since I've done any stats, and I'm VERY rusty.

Oh boy.. This is going to be fun.

As poor graduate students, sometimes it's difficult to come up with the $$ it takes to get a decent statistics software or qualitative data analysis software. And, there's too much guilt associated with "borrowing" software from friends.

Today I found a meta-list of free statistical software either released under the GNU license, or are given free of charge. Here's the list: http://statistiksoftware.com/free_software.html

They have many SPSS clones listed on there. I have just downloaded PSPP, which promises to be a good SPSS clone. I'm uninstalling SPSS from my computer since I couldn't get the site license for it. And even if I did, it expires in one year, so what's the point?

Next, I'll have to download something for text analysis that's like Atlas.ti, but free.  I'll post on here when I find something.

For anyone from Tallahassee reading this... I'll be in town next week (18-23), and I'd love to get together with people. Oysters, pickled chips, and sheesha are on the menu. Leave me a comment if you can meet up.

A few years ago, I was introduced to a beautiful artist by the name of Brenda Fassie. Like most artists who were/are dealing with the effects of post-Apartheid South Africa, she was singing about the struggles of the people who had to live under the brutal government.

When Nelson Mandela was captured, it was devastating to the world. He was a great leader, and a very inspirational figure. She wrote a beautiful song for him called "My Black President", which talks about her love and dedication to this great man.

The first few times I heard it, I was very moved, and then as I learned the lyrics and sang along, I would choke up, and think how wonderful it would be to have a president who can generate so much love and commitment from his people. I have never experienced that in my life, and didn't know what standing behind a president meant.

I come from a country torn by war and corruption, and all the presidents I have experienced have, well, been uninspirational. Every time an inspiration figure arose to power and united people (even if it's not across division), he would get assassinated. Bashir Gemayel, Rafik Hariri, Gibran Tueni, all great men who were assassinated. People lost hope and accepted the status quo. Now, Lebanon has crazy, conservative, religious extremist with more influence than all other factions put together. They have killed dreams of a peaceful country where Lebanon can become the Paris of the Middle East once again.

I came to the United States mainly to escape the war in my country. It was no place for any young person to live. When I moved here, Bush senior was on his way out, and Bill Clinton was on his way in. I lived through that time, and it was great. The economy was great, we had fun in the software industry. But, the dark shadow of the Reagan era was still looming. There was a huge gap between the rich and the poor, and people were either living the high life, while others lived with daily violence and trauma.

When Bush junior first ran, I knew things would change, but didn't know how. He won through deception and greed. In his second term, he did crush people's dreams, and encouraged an era of fear and almost draconian politics. I lived in fear. It was dangerous to be an Arab. We were the terrorists, after all. We're the cause of the demise of the "American way of life". Living in Florida meant I had to watch over my back all the time, and censor what I said in the classroom, because I didn't want to say the wrong thing, and end up being deported, or denied citizenship when I wanted to apply.

I've been in the US since 1988. Twenty years later, I still had not applied for citizenship. I am not too big on citizenship, per se, and the American passport, a prized capital in most of the world, was not an incentive for me. I was ok, just keep a low profile, and everything will be fine.

Last year, I started hearing Barack Obama on TV, and all of sudden, something sparked in me. I was inspired, as I'm sure millions of people were all over the country. All of a sudden, he offered hope for those of us who have come to think that things were utterly hopeless; that the government is against the people; that politicians will do anything they can to further their own agendas, regardless of how many people were harmed in the process. The more I heard him speak and learned about his policies and his vision, the more I became moved, and wanted to actually vote for him. That inspired me to apply for citizenship, and finally get it after twenty years.

Yesterday was the first vote I have ever cast in my life. I am proud to have done it not only because of who Obama turned out to be, but because he was the man who inspired me (and turned me into a political junkie), and sparked in me a hope that had long since been extinguished. Now, as a citizen, I can stand behind a president. I can look up to him for inspiration. He says great things that will go down in history, and will be written on the walls of the capitol (unlike the last number of presidents we've had). His words will join those of Lincoln, Kennedy and others who have inspired millions of people during their time and throughout history.

While I truly don't have (too) many high expections for him and the country. There's going to be a lot of cleaning to be done, and he is going to make many people angry and outraged, and perhaps even violent.

I fear for him, as I'm sure millions of people do as well. I hope he does not join the list of great men who were assassinated because some could not get beyond their fears and think beyond themselves. I have experienced first hand what happens to great people. This is one of those instances where I don't even want to consider what would happen if my fears came true.

As an anthropologist (as Obama's mom was) and an Africanist, and someone who is so concerned about social justice and human rights, this is an amazing time in history. I am seeing and being a part of history as it is written. I have been crying since last night. I'm relieved in more ways than one. I am sure the world over just breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Every time I see Jesse Jackson's face in the crowd crying, I start crying myself. This man has been through so much, and seen so much, inspired so many, and had such vision for this country... I can only imagine what was going through his head.

Black President

The year 1963
The people's president
Was taken away by security men
All dressed in a uniform
The brutality, brutality
Oh, no, my black president
Him and his comrades
Were sentenced to isolation
For many painful years
For many painful years
Many painful years
Of hard labour
They broke ropes
But the spirit was never broken
Never broken
Oh, no, my, my black president

Hmm maa (3x)
Mama
Hmm maa (3x)
Mama

Hmm maa (3x)
Madiba
Hmm maa (3x)
Madiba
Ahh, nyu ye uyee huu

He broke ropes
But his spirit was never broken
Never broken
Oh oh oh, my president

Now in 1990
The people's president
Came out from jail
Raised up his hand and said
'Viva, viva, my people'
He walked the long road
Back, back to freedom
Back, back to freedom
Freedom for my black president

Let us rejoice for our president
Let us sing for our president
Let us pray for our president
Let us sing, let us dance
For Madiba give us freedom
We thank you Lord
For listening to our prayers
Night and day
Oh oh oh, my president

Madiba

Zulu /Xhosa lyrics

My president
I will die for my president
I will sing for my president

I will stand and say
Viva, viva, viva, viva, viva, viva

When I was a teenager, there was a French song that I adored. It would always play on TV and on the radio, and I would sing and dance along. After I moved to the US, I just had no idea what it was. I remembered only one line that I still sang to this day. In fact, I was singing it in the shower this morning. It's one of those weird things that just stuck in my head. I can hear the music, but other than one line, nothing. That line was "dite jamais que je vous ai dit ca, ou Melissa me tue", which translates to "never say I told you that, or Melissa will kill me".

A couple of years ago I decided to try to locate the song on the internet, but I couldn't find anything. Couldn't remember the singer's name or anything. But, now, thanks to Youtube, I FOUND IT! I'm ecstatic! I've already listened to it about ten times.

The song is about a woman who runs around naked in Ibiza, and gets into trouble as she climbs up walls, and the cops come after her, etc. It's a very silly song.

So.. without further ado, here it is!! Melissa by Julien Clerc.

And whoever put it up on September 17, 2008, THANK YOU!!!!

On September 17, Citizenship Day, I became a US citizen. I am a full-fledged 'merican now. All the pics, etc. can be found here: http://vyoma108.blogspot.com/2008/09/american-ll-citizenship-day-2008-at.html

About a year ago, I became inspired by hearing one of Obama's speeches, and decided that I would like to vote for him in the upcoming election. Little did I know about everything that would happen in what has become the Election Circus.

I am still glad I went ahead and applied, and got sworn in. It's one less thing to worry about. And, I get to vote, become a city council commissioner, and have an American passport. Also, I get to apply for Fulbright fellowships, which would be great.

So, that's the big news.

Now... If only I get my dissertation going.

I've always been fascinated by group behavior and social psychology. Experiments like the Stanford prison experiment, the Stanley Milgram obedience to authority experiment are alll excellent examples of herd mentality, and people's inane fear of being individuals and acting on what they think is right in the face of authority.

So, when I saw this experiment today, it just made me laugh out loud. Elevators are such uncomfortable places to begin with. I never know how to behave when someone else is in there, especially if that someone else is doing anything other than just standing there silently. The most uncomfortable is when a parent and child are fighting, or a couple is making out, or two people are "gossiping", etc. Very bizarre.

So, here's the fun video.

This is cool. Microsoft Word has a template that allows me to interface with Blogger. Since I really don't like the UI in Blogger, I can use Word, and have it all nice, and stuff.

This is a header 1

This is Header 2

This is header 3

 So it uses my existing CSS when publishing. Very cool.

As many people can attest, I am an excellent cook. I can make almost any recipe, and have it come out fantastic. I can even, when inspired, improvise the best of recipes. The way I look at it is that cooking is an art-form that can be learned. Usually, I will know what a recipe needs by smell, sight, or taste. So far, it's been good. But, I have finally found a recipe that's driving me insane! It's probably one of the easiest recipes ever, but for me, it just does not work.

That recipe is the Lebanese garlic sauce. It's not just any sauce. The finished product is supposed to look like whipped cream. The instructions are very simple. Crush a bunch of garlic with salt. Drizzle oil and lemon juice, and mix into the garlic, until you get the consistency of whipped cream.

WRONG!

This is the second time that I have tried to make it, all to no avail. It's a very tricky recipe, because if not done properly, it just falls apart, and the sauce will refuse to thicken.

I just tried to make it today, and after putting it through three different blenders, I just gave up! That sink on the left was clean when I started. I literally went into a frenzy, and was cursing things, and yelling at things.

Finally, I added some cream, and some mayonnaise, and that seemed to thicken it. And, although the finished product tastes right, it looks completely wrong!

I just remembered that someone mentioned to me a while back that you're supposed to mix it with some mashed potatoes. I'm going to try that, and see if it works.This is so frustrating!

There is a path of destruction wherever this recipe goes.

I will conquer it yet!

For many years, my music has enjoyed a special, and especially gratifying, association with the poetry of Mahmoud Darwish. Our respective corpora have grown to be reminiscent of each other, so that the name of each of the twain, instantly and without reflection, would evoke the name of the other. How very appropriate, for all of my musical milestones that punctuate my thirty-year career, beginning with Promises of the Storm and culminating with The Doves Fly, are graced with the lyricism and poignancy that are uniquely Darwishian. Even before we got to know each other personally, I felt as though Darwish’s poetry, with its divine assertiveness and prophetic cadences, had been revealed to me and for me. I could nearly savor his mother’s bread that has become iconic to his readers. I could feel the eyes of his Rita as deeply as I could feel the pain that his Joseph suffered at the hands of his treacherous siblings, and I could identify with his passport, which I fancied carried my picture, just as personally as I could identify with his olive grove, his sand, and his sparrows. They were all, at a personal level, mine.

“And I adore my life because if I die I will be ashamed of my mother’s tears”- Darwish

Perhaps, this is the only time that Mahmoud Darwish felt ashamed and it is because he departed before his mother. He left her the tears to shed but not a poem to eulogize him with. I am the one who carried his poetry and traveled with it to far away places. I am the one who carried his soil and longing to his mother, his Rita, his olive tree and grape vine. Would you believe me when I say to you that poets do not die, but only pretend to?

Marcel Khalife

Nagam Cultural Project

www.marcelkhalife.com

Mahmoud Darwish, one of the most prolific, talented, inspiring, humanistic, and political poets in the Arab world has died today. I read his work growing up, and was very happy to see his work finally put to music by Marcel Khalife this past year.

Who will be left when all the Darwishes, and the Qabbanis are gone? Where is the next generation of poets? Today's youth is being numbed by trivialities, and distractions. Where are the great poets? I guess it is up to people like Marcel Khalife and Kazem el Saher to immortalize them, and introduce them to this idiotic generation.

Darwish died during an operation in Houston, TX. His death was probably far from being "blue, like stars pouring from a window".

Thanks to the wonderful world of digital photography, i have now over 1000 pictures from my trip. I tried to document as much as I could.

Today was very long. Explored all sorts of breathtaking views and locations (pictures later), visited a couple of holy sites, and ate lunch at a fantastic place. Then, came home, crashed for a bit, and went over to my uncle's birthday dinner.

Dinner was good and frustrating at the same time. Good because I got to speak to my cousin Tony who is on his way to the US in September. Yay! I'm so excited for him, and excited to have him in the US as well. He's going to UC Santa Cruz for an MA. I hope to be able to show him around SF if I get the chance. We have a very similar outlook on life, religion, family, and music. He's a HUGE David Byrne fan, and pretty much loves the same music I do. He just made me two DVDs full of music. Woohoo!

Dinner was frustrating because of another one of my cousins who has absolutely no social grace whatsoever. She's rude, condenscending, and just plain annoying. Plus, she insulted one of my favorite relatives who is about 70 years old wise man who used to work for the UN, speaks about ten languages, and just as nice as can be.

I'd love to say more, but gotta crash. It's 1:51 am here, and I'm absolutely exhausted.

Oh, and my sweetest cousin is in the hospital again. We think it's her gallbladder. Poor thing.

I have a terrible habit that when I am working, I have a hard time taking a break. When I do take a break, I feel very guilty, especially when the break is over a month long.

Ever since finishing up my contract with unnamed company, I have taken the summer off, and been traveling. This is the first time, since about 20 years, that I've had the chance to do that.

First, I went on a cruise to the Caribbean (Jamaica, Cayman Islands, Cozumel). Came back home for one week, and then headed to Lebanon for a month long "medical vacation". The first two weeks I was here, I had two elective surgeries, one minor and one major, and now I am recovering. I have been seeing family, catching up with news from the country and from my mom, and generally having a good time.

But, in the deep recesses of my mind, there's a constant nag that I need to be doing something productive. I have a lot of things up in the air, that I need to act on, but have no energy, nor desire to do so. The good (and bad part) is that once I start working on one of them, there's a cascading effect with most of them.

On the positive side, I have received a $2,000 grant from a Human Rights organization to do my research upon my return. That's an excellent thing. But, I really don't have much lined up in terms of where to do the research yet.

Emails are piling up unanswered, and I am getting very anxious to return and resume my life. I am feeling increasingly restless. But, I don't have a job to return to. I miss B terribly, but there's nothing else that I absolutely must do upon my return except to work on my grant, and get ready for the new semester to start in August. The first two weeks I have training in GIS at the College, and then two weeks later, school starts. The summer has gone by so fast! But, it will be good to be back, and try to get my life back together.

The new cabinet was finally formed yesterda, and the new Miss Lebanon was crowned. Hooray for that! Hopefully, life here will resume, and some change will come about from this new cabinet.