The address is now http://narrowband.org/.

All entries have been exported there, so kindly update your bookmarks .

Thank you wordpress.com for the hosting thus far.

The food on the table. The only time people flock there was when a new pizza was served fresh from the kitchen. Just imagine feeding bread to the fishes in Pulau Redang. Everything was snapped up within the first minute.

My talented colleagues. They say the more talented a person is, the more they tend to pose with their hands showing some sign. No wonder we have so much to learn from them.

It was more than just beer, pasta and pizzas. There were dance and violin performances upstairs. No kidding. Love the Christmas setting.

Dancers doing their thang. Entertainment to go along with our beer. No I didn’t drink much. Honest.

The turn-out could’ve sunk the Titanic for all I care. Really. So some of them had to be seated outside.

And then there was a renowned violinist who had a role in producing the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon’s soundtrack. She played Black Maria, Close to You, Menghitung Hari and Ye Lai Xiang. Talk about the muhibbah spirit.

The bar. Something caught Jian’s attention and he told me to snap that way. Indeed – interesting artwork there. Though nothing unusual, for a moment it made ourhis imaginations run wild.

We left at about 8:30pm, with bloated stomachs and all. And I’m starting to miss the pizza already. By the way, the restaurant has even got its own blog. How many Italian restaurants in the country have their own blog?

The weekend before Christmas. Sunday, at that. I got stuck for close to half an hour before giving up entering the mall. I turned down to Federal Highway and never looked back. If I had persevered, I’d probably need to queue up for another half an hour before entering the carpark. And maybe another 15-20 minutes trying to get a parking.

I went home and slept like a log. Never regretted that.

Jazz had never been my favorite genre, despite various recommendations from Sim in the past. Michael Buble and Norah Jones was among his best picks. That was sometime early this year.

I first heard of Janet Seidel only last week, and I liked her French inclinations. The album, entitled Comme ci… comme ça has both English and French languages in it, lyrics and translations included.

So not only do we get to enjoy the smooth jazzy arrangement on the CD, but also understand and learn the French lines. It’s a good practice for those who’ve taken up French before. *Coughs*

This 2004 release may not be Janet’s latest, but it surely opens up my appetite for jazz music. From the cover, it is explained that Comme ci… comme ça (literally translated, it means ‘this way… that way’. But the phrase really means ‘so-so’) refers to Janet’s singing in English (this way) and French (that way).

Avez-vous écouté la musique française dernièrement?

I thought it was pretty easy – just grab two (or three) sets of boys’ and girls’ school uniforms, shoes and school bags. I mean, it’s not like we know who we’re buying for, so no point deliberating over its sizes.

But mom was careful in choosing the sizes of shirts and pants. She made sure that they were neither too small nor too big. I guess when it comes to buying clothes, it’s only natural to think about the right sizes.

No such problems for white socks. The raincoats looked nice, but I don’t remember using raincoats back in school. By the way, normally I don’t go around snapping photos in shopping malls. But dad’s phone was with me and I couldn’t resist playing with the camera.

Ah, I liked choosing school bags. Mom asked for my opinion. I thought the yellow and blue ones were nice. And I imagined how excited the new owner of the bags would be – just like how I felt each time I got a new school bag. After paying for the items, they were dropped into this cage:

There were already several packs of donated items in there. I just hope that this cage is well guarded; just in case some freak decided to steal the stuff in there. The opening was so big anybody could grab the items and flee.

This is the sixth year Parkson’s organizing the Educare programme; hopefully more and more people will chip in and contribute to the good cause.

If I were to compare, grandpa had been the closest to me. I used to live with my grandparents in Alor Star for a good number of years; before we all moved to the Klang Valley and settled down. Being the eldest grandchild of his, I knew him better than my sisters and cousins did. It was a heart attack that he suffered from, and I really admire my grandma for her strength throughout this whole thing. She was trying to keep him alive during the fateful attack, by doing all that she could think of at that time.

I rushed over to their home after dinner with Alicia, and was greeted by my beloved grandpa in the living hall, lying on a mattress as if he were sleeping. Grandma cried when I greeted her. It was depressing. Shortly after, uncle arrived, and ‘depressing’, then, became an understatement. I couldn’t stand being in the living hall so I went into the guest room to relax. I stayed on in the house throughout the night, and only made a trip back home once – to pack my stuff over. It was going to be a long night.

Had a quick shower and quickly put on my black tracks and white polo tee. We all had to adhere to this colour scheme. Two police personnel came to take a look at grandpa. Shortly after that, the ceremony began – Buddhist style. We were told of all the do’s and don’ts, and performed prayers – all the way til 6am. But I had to excuse myself and took a short nap at about 4am – I hadn’t slept much since the day before. I was really fighting hard to stay awake.

I asked for a one-day leave from work. More prayers. Even less sleep. And family members, relatives, friends, neighbours and flowers arrived. Even the man who sold vegetables at the wet market came. By this time grandpa was already in a casket, with a lid opened so we could see his face. Incidentally, about 3 houses away, there was a wedding dinner – with canopies and all, just like ours. Smacked right in between these two houses was a small lane. Once, I saw a car coming out of that lane only to reverse all the way out again because on its left was a wedding dinner and on the right was a funeral. Imagine the shock.

We left for the crematorium at about 10am. The funeral procession was chaotic. Hazard lights (double blink-blinks) did not work well for us. Sometimes I had to turn them off to use the single left and right indicators so that I could weave in and out of traffic more easily. It didn’t help that some parts of the journey were badly congested. Saturday traffic, you get the idea. We did everything there was to be done for the day, and returned to help clean up my grandparents’ house. And then the old folks started talking about tall perks and how I could help clean the ceiling fans, replace the curtains, etc.

I offered grandpa a josstick before leaving for home. Had tonnes of unread emails related to work, toastmasters and crap, even my blog. Some comment-spams. But they were the least of my worries. I’m still thinking how I’m gonna remain a vegetarian for the next 7 weeks. It’s going to be difficult. Even mom offered that only the closest family members adhere to this – that is to say herself, grandma and my uncles. Anyway, to my dear friends, I’m sorry for quitting the PD trip last minute and canceling our appointments on Thursday. You know who you are. It’s just one of those days when you can’t do anything about something.

And grandpa, you will be very dearly missed.

Actually, having attended the TLI is no big deal. Many of them left shortly after signing their attendance. What these people didn’t know was that there was a second attendance sheet after the break.

Sounds familiar? Kinda like some of our lectures, where a second attendance sheet is necessary to curb truancy. Nevertheless, the turnout at the TLI2 was not too bad also lah. Food-wise, the fried mee-hoon was salty, the teh tarik was good, but there was no plain water. It was free-of-charge anyway.

After the break, we were given this little ‘test’, and boy all we did was copy, copy and copy. Luckily we had our President with us; she lent us her directory which helped us a great deal. Our answer scripts were marked by people from other tables. My marker even helped me to calculate my score!

Info such as name, position and club was also required on the answer scripts. I suddenly became a security guard for MSC Headquarters. Thanks, Sat :p. No we didn’t hand in that copy. We printed our real names and respective positions before submitting.

I liked the ‘forum’. Had a couple of good laughs there. Despite having nasty thoughts of sneaking out midway through the TLI, I’m proud to say that we stayed on til the end. (Yeah right it started to rain and we were stranded)

With our attendance, we’re now a step closer to achieving our DCP goals. On my part, I am working towards getting the CC title (as well as getting rid of it) as soon as possible!

Update: I met ATMB Ramdas Nayar this morning while on my way to work! What a small, small world! He remembered me from the TLI. Apparently he’s working in the same area as I am.

It’s been there with my whiteboard since God-knows-when. It became really dusty and I didn’t even bother to wipe it… until I had my entire room repainted last weekend.

My whiteboard now faces my bed, and I’ve shifted this little ‘ball’ (please, if it has a name, pardon my lack of knowledge) as well. As you can see, it’s got this very nicely hand-drawn butterfly on it. With colours too leh.

She gave one to each and everyone of us that year – I still remember. But I’ve forgotten which year, heh. I wonder how’ll this year’s Christmas be. Mom asked if we’d like to have turkey – we all responded with a resounding ‘no’. I’d be happy if she’d suggested chicken instead. At least we would be able to finish it.

Anyway, at my workplace, we’re all gonna exchange gifts, and I’m all excited for that!

While Malaysia fiddles, its opportunities are running dry
by Michael Backman
(November 15, 2006)

MALAYSIA’S been at it again, arguing about what proportion of the economy each of its two main races — the Malays and the Chinese — owns. It’s an argument that’s been running for 40 years. That wealth and race are not synonymous is important for national cohesion, but really it’s time Malaysia grew up.

It’s a tough world out there and there can be little sympathy for a country that prefers to argue about how to divide wealth rather than get on with the job of creating it.

The long-held aim is for 30 per cent of corporate equity to be in Malay hands, but the figure that the Government uses to justify handing over huge swathes of public companies to Malays but not to other races is absurd. It bases its figure on equity valued, not at market value, but at par value.

Many shares have a par value of say $1 but a market value of $12. And so the Government figure (18.9 per cent is the most recent figure) is a gross underestimate. Last month a paper by a researcher at a local think-tank came up with a figure of 45 per cent based on actual stock prices. All hell broke loose. The paper was withdrawn and the researcher resigned in protest. Part of the problem is that he is Chinese.

“Malaysia boleh!” is Malaysia’s national catch cry. It translates to “Malaysia can!” and Malaysia certainly can. Few countries are as good at wasting money. It is richly endowed with natural resources and the national obsession seems to be to extract these, sell them off and then collectively spray the proceeds up against the wall.

This all happens in the context of Malaysia’s grossly inflated sense of its place in the world.

Most Malaysians are convinced that the eyes of the world are on their country and that their leaders are world figures. This is thanks to Malaysia’s tame media and the bravado of former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad. The truth is, few people on the streets of London or New York could point to Malaysia on a map much less name its prime minister or capital city.

As if to make this point, a recent episode of The Simpsons features a newsreader trying to announce that a tidal wave had hit some place called Kuala Lumpur. He couldn’t pronounce the city’s name and so made up one, as if no-one cared anyway. But the joke was on the script writers — Kuala Lumpur is inland.

Petronas, the national oil company is well run, particularly when compared to the disaster that passes for a national oil company in neighbouring Indonesia. But in some respects, this is Malaysia’s problem. The very success of Petronas means that it is used to underwrite all manner of excess.

The KLCC development in central Kuala Lumpur is an example. It includes the Twin Towers, the tallest buildings in the world when they were built, which was their point.

It certainly wasn’t that there was an office shortage in Kuala Lumpur — there wasn’t.

Malaysians are very proud of these towers. Goodness knows why. They had little to do with them. The money for them came out of the ground and the engineering was contracted out to South Korean companies.

They don’t even run the shopping centre that’s beneath them. That’s handled by Australia’s Westfield.

Next year, a Malaysian astronaut will go into space aboard a Russian rocket — the first Malay in space. And the cost? $RM95 million ($A34.3 million), to be footed by Malaysian taxpayers. The Science and Technology Minister has said that a moon landing in 2020 is the next target, aboard a US flight. There’s no indication of what the Americans will charge for this, assuming there’s even a chance that they will consider it. But what is Malaysia getting by using the space programs of others as a taxi service? There are no obvious technical benefits, but no doubt Malaysians will be told once again, that they are “boleh”. The trouble is, they’re not. It’s not their space program.

Back in July, the Government announced that it would spend $RM490 million on a sports complex near the London Olympics site so that Malaysian athletes can train there and “get used to cold weather”.

But the summer Olympics are held in the summer.

So what is the complex’s real purpose? The dozens of goodwill missions by ministers and bureaucrats to London to check on the centre’s construction and then on the athletes while they train might provide a clue.

Bank bale outs, a formula one racing track, an entire new capital city — Petronas has paid for them all. It’s been an orgy of nonsense that Malaysia can ill afford.

Why? Because Malaysia’s oil will run out in about 19 years. As it is, Malaysia will become a net oil importer in 2011 — that’s just five years away.

So it’s in this context that the latest debate about race and wealth is so sad.

It is time to move on, time to prepare the economy for life after oil. But, like Nero fiddling while Rome burned, the Malaysian Government is more interested in stunts like sending a Malaysian into space when Malaysia’s inadequate schools could have done with the cash, and arguing about wealth distribution using transparently ridiculous statistics.

That’s not Malaysia “boleh”, that’s Malaysia “bodoh” (stupid).

Reference: The Age.

Addendum: As it is, ‘boleh’ is now ‘bodoh’ for Malaysia. And Midnite Lily concurs. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, to feel proud or sad. I’m shaking my head in disbelief though.

Update: Michael Backman replies to the ‘overwhelming’ response received after publishing the above article, 95% of them have been supportive. Our Int’l Trade and Industry Minister Datuk Seri Rafidah Aziz on the other hand, thinks otherwise. She was quoted saying, “I don’t really care about what others say – as long as it is not a Malaysian saying it”.

But, Mdm, many Malaysians agree with Backman…

So if you somehow know where to get the driver, I’d appreciate it if you could drop me a line. Tell me if you’ve seen it before (this webcam), or your friend has it (or something similar), or you know its brand or where to get the driver online – whatever. I’ve tried searching but they didn’t work.

Anyone who provides an information that leads to the successful installation of the driver will be rewarded… with a webcam-snapshot of an undisclosed body part of mine. Naw I’m just kidding. You’ll get 10 brownie points. If the driver’s contained in a CD and you decide to deliver it to my doorstep you’ll get 75 extra brownie points. Yeah.

This book, I would say is a love story with a twist. And a very original one, too. The author brings us back and forth in time, and the story unfolds in the form of first-person accounts of Henry and Clare. Henry suffers from a genetic condition that throws him back to the past, and sometimes future, without control. Each time he ‘time travels’, his present self would disappear, and reappear in another place, another time.

[Spoiler alert] One of Henry’s earliest time-traveling experiences had inadvertently saved his life. Henry, at that time 3 years old, time-travelled just as a sheet of scrap metal started to cut his forehead during a road accident. His mother, who was driving, was decapitated (read: beheaded) by the scrap metal. It pierced through the seat where Henry’s forehead should have been. Apparently he had time-travelled (disappeared), and was found 5 minutes later by the roadside, with only a scar on the forehead. The police couldn’t explain it.

At 36, Henry time-travelled back to 1977 and first met his future wife Clare, who was 6 years old that time. They became friends, and throughout Clare’s childhood Henry had visited her from the future numerous times. In present-time Henry was 8 years older than Clare, but he would not meet Clare until he was 28. In 1991, Henry, who was 28, met Clare, 20, at the Newberry Library but of course, at that time he didn’t know who Clare was. On the contrary, Clare had been waiting for this day since she was 6! Two years later (Henry 30, Clare 22), they got married and had tried to live like ordinary couples do, including having a child – and it proved to be a struggle due to Henry’s ‘chrono-impairment’ problem.

The story tells of the challenges that Henry and Clare encounter, their struggle in coping with Henry’s genetic condition. Towards the second half of the book, I found myself flipping back the pages and understood why everything made perfect sense, including Henry’s eventual death. He was mistakenly shot (ironically by Clare’s family members) during time-travelling at the age of 43, and was survived by Clare and daughter, Alba (who also time-traveled like Henry). This part was truly thought-provoking. What would you do if you knew that your death is near? During one of Henry’s time-travel (to the future), he looked up the obituary and learnt of his death. You’ve just got to read it, it’s really dramatic.

Henry left a note (which was to be read after his death) for Clare, and that was when Henry reiterated his undying love for her. In the note, he also mentioned that they would meet again, when Clare turns 82. Imagine that there is chance for you to meet your loved one again, even though he is no longer living. In the story, Henry had once time-travelled to the future and saw his wife (when she was 82 – year 2053!). This was a sort of ‘reunion’, as far as Clare’s concerned. This is one of the advantages of Henry’s genetic condition. His ability to time-travel could be rewarding (like how he survived the car accident but his mother did not), but the ‘uncontrollable’ nature of the condition sometimes proved otherwise.

I was wondering if there was going to be a movie version of this story. Out of curiosity, I googled for it and found out that the movie is already in the works! Exciting stuff. I wouldn’t expect the movie to be better than the book, though. For more info, check out The Time Traveler’s Wife on Wikipedia.

Hmm. Fair enough. Everything was good until somewhere around 3/4 of the distance, just after SMK USJ13. My right foot developed a blister. It was very distracting, and at times I had to force my left leg to work a little harder to minimize the pain. Nevertheless, I followed this gwai lo until somewhere near the USJ9 mosque and met a fellow Toastmaster, Mr R. Had a little chat and for a moment I forgot about the pain. You may not realize this, but the road was actually going slightly uphill after True Fitness Taipan.

I was practically doing a slow-jog on my way up, and upon seeing the MPSJ complex, I thought of nothing but the U-turn that I had to make at the end of the road. That was also when I noticed that I had lost sight of Mr R (who was in a complete marathon outfit, and is going to participate in another running event in Singapore -_-”). I couldn’t push any faster after that, so I kept to my pace, and jogged, and jogged. After the U-turn I was determined to get past some other runners, despite working my legs off in the final 200m. Needless to say, I was no longer in a medal position.

There weren’t any drinking checkpoints along the race, so those booths set up in the MPSJ complex giving away free drinks were a hit. I gulped down mineral water, Ribena (I think it was Ribena, it was purple – I didn’t think much about that drink :p), and Milo. I sat by the field and assessed the blister. When I was running, it felt more like some needle poking my foot (I actually wondered if I had stepped on a thumb-tag!). I think I made the 60-minute mark, but I’m not sure. I asked one of the participants near the finish-line about this, his watch showed 54mins. I just hope I wasn’t too far behind him.

In any case, it was fun and satisfying. Like the PJ Half, I didn’t suffer from any major injuries other than the blister. (Come to think of it, this blister alone was damn distracting and could have ruined the whole race). No pictures at the race – duh. But I have a picture of my foot, taken after bath just now.

Sigh. I was surprised how a seemingly ‘minor’ blister like this could cause all that irritation. I checked the shoe; a layer in the inner sole has partially come off. The blister is no surprise, then. Another km or so would have resulted in a peeled skin!

I enjoyed listening to the radio though. Wacky as hell, those announcers. Thank god for these stations otherwise I’d have dozed off in the car. I was told that the City Council (Dewan Bandaraya Petaling Jaya now, no longer Majlis Perbandaran…, yea) was gonna start collecting parking fees next month. That’s tomorrow, by the way. My third day of work. I’ve done the math – A month’s parking would eat up to about one-third of my training allowance. *Wipes sweat*

Anyway, as trainees, we’re required to fill up a ‘log book’ to record our experiences at work. My log book is still empty as of today. I figured that I’d type them out first, because I think I actually type faster than I handwrite. So Day One entry is actually somewhere on the net right now, making it a ‘web log’, or blog, in a more literal sense. Heh. No I’m not disclosing the URL. It’s been made ‘private’, anyway. And by the way, to those who’ve offered to give me ‘intensive’ Chinese tuition, you can forget about teaching me now because by the end of my stint here, my command of the language will definitely improve multiple-fold. No prizes for guessing why. Yeah! Jia you, Iblawg!!

Seriously, this is such an invaluable experience because, like it or not, the job market now favors multilingual dudes. So this is one of the plus-points of my training – Mandarin-training thrown in. Oh, I’d also cut my hair. Basically the head looks like a dick head now because I told the hairdresser I wanted something different. I figured that my spikey-look era would come to an end, hence the new head. Poor Iblawg. I wish I could grow 2cm of hair overnight, every night, so that it becomes more ‘manageable’, and uhm, ‘normal’ again .

Noticed the blog inactivity? I’ve been doing some reading – the book is one of the birthday pressies given by my friends, earlier this year (for some reason I only remember Steph, ehe). And of course, I’ve been working out. With Alex. That RPM freak. Will save that experience for another blog entry, another day. Meanwhile, to those undergoing internship, enjoy yourselves and please, stop telling me you’re getting PDAs, laptops and whatnots, getting a CEO-treatment from your employer, or want to go to Italy (whoa this one fella I damn beh syok. He’s officially the most-envied MMU industrial trainee, this batch). Grr.

P/s: The Larian SJ10K is coming up on Sunday. Will collect my ‘goodie bag’ this weekend. Watch out for that entry!

It’s a beautiful Spanish-made, Almansa with a nice, solid spruce top. An all-round solid-wood guitar would cost a fortune so at the moment, this baby is still doing a pretty decent job. To replace a string, begin by loosening the string using the tuning knob.

Continue to turn the tuning knob until you’re able to remove the string from the headstock.

You just cannot begin from the other end of the string, at the bridge. Seriously. You can try, but it’s not the most logical thing to do.

That’s the bridge area, where the tricky part is. The first three strings have to be tightly wound to avoid slipping. Once you’ve removed the string from the headstock, proceed to remove the other end at the bridge. Now, insert the new string at the bridge first (not the headstock!).

You’ll have to ensure that the string does not slip when you tighten it later on. To do this, once you’ve inserted the string as shown above, tie a knot like this:

Cute huh? Then, pull it outwards a little longer so that you can do this:

After that, wind it around itself twice, so that it appears twisted like this:

Now, adjust it a little bit and tighten the entire knot by pulling (by hand, not too hard) the string towards the headstock area. You’re done with the bridge area when it looks something like this:

Finally, move on to the headstock area and insert the free-end of the string into the tuner as shown:

Loop it a few times first before attempting to tighten the string. This is to avoid the string from slipping, of course. I’ve looped it twice:

Then, turn the tuning knob counter-clockwise to tighten the string. Counter-clockwise when viewed from this angle:

You’ll realise that all six tuning knobs should be turned in CCW direction to tighten the string. They’re made that way, and our wrist should get used to this convention – CCW means tighten and CW means loosen. Next, repeat the same thing for the B-string.

The same steps are repeated for B-string, as well as G-string.

Apparently an extra G-string was given too, so I could choose between the old, conventional type of G-string or the new type one, made of new material and D’Addario claims that it has a longer lifespan.

According to D’Addario, some players prefer the new one, while others prefer the old one. Because of this, two different types are included and I randomly picked the new one (some people don’t like the colour too, it’s brownish).

Now that the first three strings have been taken care of, let’s move on to the D-string. And you won’t believe this. These were all that’s left:

The extra G-string is understandable, but it seems like they’ve missed out on the D-string, and included an extra, identical A-string instead. I tried my luck to see if the label was wrong. I checked the diameters of the two A-strings.

Absolutely identical. Instead of a D-string, D’Addario mistakenly packaged an extra A-string for me. Great. I will need to go out and buy a new D-string. Skipping that, let’s proceed to the A-string. Begin from the bridge.

Loop it around like this:

We do not need to perform that ‘string-twisting’ thingy on this one. Just leave it like this:

You should do the same for the E-string and D-string too.

That’s about it. All but one string have been replaced.

New sets of strings on these babies. D’Addario strings aren’t really the cheapest in the market, FYI. Gotta head down to the shop and get a single D-string tomorrow. Grr.

That’s the view of the headstock before anything was done to the guitar. Note that the G and B strings have been incorrectly wound. The strings should not run ‘on the outside’ of the extension (in the picture, refer to the top-right tuner, and the one below it). They should run on the ‘inside’, like those of the bass strings (refer to the three tuners on the left). The reason? See following pic.

From this angle, it is obvious that the G-string (pun unintended) is touching the B-string. As a result, the string is slightly bent (top-right tuner). Same goes to the B-string. The bass strings (all three tuners on the left-hand-side) have been correctly wound, though. So this is a case of inconsistency. It should be avoided because the direction of the tuners is affected as well. For example, if counter-clockwise means tightening the string, an inconsistency like this may result in the person accidentally breaking a string by tightening it, instead of loosening it as intended. Get it? Now let’s replace the broken string.

This is the bridge area, where you can see 6 rounded ‘stoppers’ that hold the strings in place. You’ve gotta first remove the stoppers in order to remove the string.

Yeah it’s *that* long. By the way, usually they are too tight for our bare fingers. So use a tool. A plier or something. Becareful though, you don’t want to break those plastic stoppers.

A new string. Of course, don’t make silly mistakes like choosing the wrong string! A high-E string means a high-E string. Fixing a wrong string and trying to tune it up to high E note will obviously break it.

Insert the new string into the bridge. Don’t insert the string without a round ‘stopper’ at the end! All new strings should come with this at one end (that gold-coloured little ring in picture. Of course, it may not always come in gold colour lah!).

After inserting, replace that ‘stopper’ (look, I don’t know what it’s called formally but what it does is that it ‘stops’ or prevents the end of the string from slipping). If you notice carefully, the stopper has a ‘lining’ that allows the string to go through it, but narrow enough to prevent that ‘gold ring’ from slipping out. Rotate the stopper such that the lining faces the soundhole. This is common sense. You’ll know what I’m talking about once you see it. Remember to press it in firmly once you’re done.

Insert the other end of the string into the hole on the extension of the tuner. You might want to loop it a few times first to prevent slipping. But don’t use a plier or anything like that to tighten it! Just loop it one or twice is more than enough. Then, turn the tuning knob clockwise, viewed from the side. Ok, bad description. In any case, just ensure that you turn in the direction such that the string ‘runs on the inside’ of the extension (don’t make the mistake shown in the first and second pic above!).

That’s how it should look like once it’s done. This is the conventional way of winding the strings. If you’re lazy, like most seasoned rockers are, you may want to avoid straining your wrist by turning the tuner so many times. That’s why you see some of their guitars have very messy windings with strings protruding from all over, and there are only 2 or 3 loops made around these ‘studs’. Honestly, I do think that that is cooler. But let’s stick to the ‘long-winded’, proper way. Note that the B-string is touching the winding – which it shouldn’t be. Now we shall replace that B-string with a new one, and wind it correctly.

Since it is not a broken string, REMEMBER to loosen it first before you do anything! Furthermore, in this case, since the direction of the winding is wrong, make sure that the tuning knob is turned in the direction that would loosen the string, and not tightening it. You don’t want a high-tension steel string to snap for nothing.

The rest of the steps are similar with the ones discussed earlier. The pic above shows the shiny, new B-string.

And its winding on the ‘tuning stud’ (again, I made up this name). The string now runs on the ‘inside’ and as a result, it does not come into contact with the E-string which we first wound.

Next, we shall replace the G-string that have also been wrongly wound (shown touching the B-string in pic).

A new G-string, with god-knows-how-many-loops in the winding. Actually, you can just cut it shorter before actually winding it. That way, you don’t need to loop so many times. Now proceed and replace the remaining strings in a similar manner.

All-new, shiny strings. Rust-free and sound good! Let’s take a look at the headstock after all the strings have been replaced.

The strings do not come into contact with anything now. All have been wound in the right direction. Note that the bass strings have considerably lower number of loops in their winding compared to the treble strings. (Btw, bass strings refer to the three thickest strings and the ‘treble strings’ simply refer to the thinner ones. I made up the ‘treble’ name. I don’t think there is a ‘formal’ name for them.). That’s because I had cut them into shorter length to avoid looping so many times. In the case of the A-string (middle-left), there are only two loops made .

Here are some more pics.

That’s J’s Fender. The guy’s currently reading actuarial science in Canada. And the Malaysian community in the university made him the Vice President of the Malaysian Association there (something like that). Haha.

Old, rusty strings. Not only do they stain your fingers, their sound quality is bad, too. And you also wouldn’t want your fingers to be cut by them during sliding. Next up:

Yep. In my next post, we’ll be replacing classical guitar strings. Actually, I bought these two sets of strings together, today. No broken strings on my classical guitar though, but they’re damn old and sound terrible. When a string is old, you can tell by its out-of-tune in different parts when played. Maybe I’ll also blog about guitar tuning basics some time next week. But as for now, I’m hitting the sack.