Leo con desconcierto este texto de Javier Marías sobre violencia machista publicado hace 2 días en El País Semanal. En él, Javier Marías argumenta que la violencia machista es difícil de erradicar por tratarse de crímenes "individuales" con "su historia particular detrás".
No he leído nada de Javier Marías -él seguramente tampoco ha leído nada mío- y no estoy familiarizada con su orientación política o su ideología en general, así que me limito a juzgar lo que leo en el artículo. Es de agradecer de todas formas que al menos se reconozca el problema de la violencia machista y se intente analizar su raíz, aunque en este punto discrepo bastante con el señor Marías, que escribe frases como éstas:
No se intenta convencer a los hombres de que maten a mujeres, no se trata de una “causa” que busque “adeptos”. Por desgracia (bueno, no sé qué sería más trágico), cada bruto o sádico va por su cuenta y toma su decisión a solas.
Lo cierto es que cada crimen machista va por su cuenta, con su historia particular detrás. Cada asesino asesina sin confabularse con otros (...), ninguno necesita el aliento, el beneplácito ni la propaganda de sus congéneres.
¿Educar desde la infancia? Sin duda, pero no parece que eso dé mucho resultado: un alto porcentaje de adolescentes españoles ve hoy “normal” el control de sus “chicas” y hasta cierta dosis de violencia hacia ellas. Es deprimente, y da la impresión de que, lejos de mejorar las mentalidades, las vamos empeorando.
(Para ubicar cada fragmento en su contexto, arriba está el enlace al texto completo.)
Si la violencia machista fuesen solamente casos "individuales", uno puede pensar que habría tantos asesinos como asesinas. No se necesita fuerza física: para asesinar, especialmente a una persona con la que se convive, no hace falta un forcejeo; para violar a una persona inconsciente, tampoco. Y sin embargo no conozco ningún caso de un hombre que haya sido violado mientras estaba inconsciente y abandonado luego medio desnudo en una cuneta por una mujer o grupo de mujeres. Ni se me ocurriría, en ese improbable caso, que un juez le fuese a preguntar, "¿pero llevaba usted bien abrochado el pantalón?" Creo que Javier Marías se está olvidando del problema de base, el machismo intrínseco de la sociedad, del que todos somos un poquito culpables y un poquito víctimas. Ese machismo que nos hace aceptar como normal (y adecuado) el hecho de que, en algunos casos, la mujer se use como un objeto para servir al hombre. Llevado al extremo, cuando la mujer deja de servir, el asesino adoctrinado por el machismo de la sociedad se deshace de ella, y punto.
Hace poco fui con un niño de 6 años a unos recreativos para niños. "Para niños". Con la típica piscina de bolas, los ganchos de pescar muñecos que nunca se dejan pescar, y diferentes variedades de videojuegos, entre ellos varios de motos y coches de carreras. Por si no he hecho suficiente hincapié en ello, repito: recreativos "para niños". Y sin embargo la primera imagen en la pantalla del juego de las motos es una mujer de tetas gigantescas, cinturita de avispa y caderones, vistiendo un bañador rojo del que se le sale media teta por cada lado, dándole al niño de 6 años la bienvenida al circuito. Para las niñas, por supuesto, o para los niños a los que no les gusten las mujeres de cuerpos grimosos en bañador rojo, no había opción de sustituir a la modelo por un forzudo en calzones. Se asume, y se inculca tanto a niños como a niñas, la imagen de la mujer como objeto decorativo cuya función (y ambición) es agradar al hombre.
Partiendo de este contexto, vayamos de nuevo punto por punto:
No se intenta convencer a los hombres de que maten a mujeres, no se trata de una “causa” que busque “adeptos”. Por desgracia (bueno, no sé qué sería más trágico), cada bruto o sádico va por su cuenta y toma su decisión a solas.
Por supuesto, nadie le dice al bruto o sádico que se ponga a matar mujeres, y la enorme mayoría de hombres son gente normal que no va por ahí matando a nadie. Pero tampoco los asesinos toman su decisión enteramente "a solas". La toman con la complicidad inocente y silenciosa de una sociedad machista en la que todo, desde los juegos para niños, está diseñado "by default" para el modelo de hombre-macho. En la que a ellos se les enseña a dominar, y a ellas, a agradar. En la que a ellas se las juzga con desconfianza porque "algo habrán hecho".
Lo cierto es que cada crimen machista va por su cuenta, con su historia particular detrás. Cada asesino asesina sin confabularse con otros (...), ninguno necesita el aliento, el beneplácito ni la propaganda de sus congéneres.
Sé que la idea de la primera frase no es, aunque se pueda malinterpretar así, el que cada crimen machista tenga "sus justificaciones particulares". Pero los asesinos, violadores y maltratadores muchas veces sí buscan (y obtienen, en mayor o menor medida) el aliento y el beneplácito de sus congéneres. Sin ir más lejos, ahí tenemos el tan famoso caso de "la manada". Yendo más lejos, cualquier comentario del tipo "ella se lo estaba buscando" o "algo habrá hecho" supone una validación moral del acto de violencia machista.
¿Educar desde la infancia? Sin duda, pero no parece que eso dé mucho resultado: un alto porcentaje de adolescentes españoles ve hoy “normal” el control de sus “chicas” y hasta cierta dosis de violencia hacia ellas. Es deprimente, y da la impresión de que, lejos de mejorar las mentalidades, las vamos empeorando.
Es que no se está educando desde la infancia! Precisamente al revés! Se están inculcando ideas machistas desde la infancia, tanto a niños como a niñas, y muchas veces de una forma tan socialmente aceptada que ni siquiera nos choca. Nos parece totalmente normal encontrarnos a una tipa con un bañador rojo tres tallas pequeño y morros de silicona como imagen de portada de un juego de carreras para niños. Y nos parece normal precisamente porque la realidad también es así.
Dice tambien lo siguiente el señor Marías:
Conocíamos, sin embargo, una serie de normas inviolables: era inadmisible pegarse con un compañero de menor tamaño o edad; también ir dos contra uno (“mierda para cada uno”, era la frase infantil); y, sobre todo, a una chica no se le pegaba jamás, en ninguna circunstancia. Eso se consideraba una absoluta cobardía, algo ruin, algo vil. El que lo hacía quedaba manchado para siempre, por mucho perdón que pidiese luego. Pasaba a ser un apestado, un individuo despreciable, un desterrado de la comunidad. Y esas enseñanzas se prolongaban hasta la edad adulta. A una mujer no se le pone la mano encima, a no ser, supongo, que sea muy bestia y se nos abalance con un cuchillo en la mano, por ejemplo. Pero éramos conscientes de nuestra mayor fuerza física y de que era intolerable emplearla contra alguien en principio más débil (insisto, sólo en lo físico).
Pues eso está muy bien, pero también parte de la idea machista de que el hombre tiene derecho a pegar a la mujer..., pero no lo debe hacer porque la pobre es físicamente incapaz de defenderse. Es como aquella campaña desacertada de la policía en la que se pide a los hombres que no violen a las mujeres porque "podría ser tu hermana", tu novia, , tu madre, etc. No, es que a las mujeres no se las viola porque a las "personas" no se las viola. Y sí, obviamente, la mayoría de las mujeres somos físicamente más débiles que la mayoría de los hombres, pero ¿es ésta la razón para no violarnos?
Pero como digo, el machismo está en todas partes y es algo tan habitual que muchas veces ni lo vemos. Somos a la vez víctimas y culpables, tanto los hombres corrientes como las mujeres corrientes. Víctimas, por razones obvias. Culpables porque a veces, cuando lo identificamos, lo dejamos pasar. Unos más que otros, y yo más que muchos. En el curso de tres días he tenido la siguiente conversación, en tres ocasiones separadas, con tres amigos diferentes:
- El fin de semana vienen dos amigas de visita.
- ¿Están buenas?
Y yo no digo nada, o me limito a contestar que sí, que supongo que están buenas, porque sé que mis amigos en el fondo no son machistas y no me apetece empezar una discusión y que me llamen radical, a mí, que soy lo menos radical del mundo.
Pero la próxima vez que veas un anuncio en la tele, o una comedia romántica, o el vídeo de seguridad de un vuelo, o una película de superhéroes, o un reportaje de un suceso deportivo, o a Pablo Motos, o cualquier situación en la que se den roles "de género", intenta imaginar el mismo anuncio, la misma película, el mismo reportaje con los géneros invertidos. Verás como entonces sí resulta chocante ver a dos azafatos complacientes abrochando y desabrochando con una leve caricia y una radiante sonrisa el cinturón de seguridad de un tercer azafato sonriente, a un periódico deportivo refiriéndose a Javier Fernández como "el novio de Miki Ando", o a un juez preguntándole a un hombre víctima de una violación si él suele emborracharse en las fiestas o si llevaba el pantalón bien abrochado.
jueves, 14 de diciembre de 2017
domingo, 1 de enero de 2017
The greys of this world
I would like to wish you, non-existent reader, a happy new year.
I will do as I sometimes do, and write about an idea not knowing where I'm going yet,
There was an attack in Istanbul, where someone I care about lives. Now I'm worried, athough I know this is probably like our ETA times, when attacks did happen but it was more scary to hear about it from the outside than it was to actually live here.
There was an attack in Istanbul, and most of my facebook "friends" don't know yet, and if they do, they most likely don't care much. Except the few ones who are muslim-haters, who find in every ISIS attack a legitimization of their hate for everything muslim. Anyway. Many of my "friends" are posting photos of themselves with their significant others and their one or two kids, inside or outside their bellies, welcoming the new year. They look happy.
I've been told since I came back I sometimes act like I'm above the rest. I don't think it was true when I was told, and I don't want to sound like it now... But I might. So be ready and forgiving.
I am getting a bit anxious about finding a partner, making a family, etc., and in a way I envy all these people on facebook. But, even though I know they are objectively happier than I am, from where I stand right now (figuratively, since I'm writing from bed) I wouldn't change my life for theirs. I see them, and I see a very small world, and a very limited sight of reality, or a very tightly enclosed reality. Not that mine is much wider, not that I have learnt so much more since I left. I used to live within the same 4km straight line in Madrid, now I still live within the same 4km straight line but 13000km away. I guess 4km is just a practical distance to live within. But in this time I have met many people who come from many different places, and I've become much more away of my limitations, much more conscious of how much I'm missing, of the scope of my ignorance. So yes, maybe I consider myself to be above certain people..., but only above those people whose attitude shows they consider themselves to be above any kind of people they are not familiar with.
I think what motivated the observation about my haughtiness was something that happened while playing a card game with some people. The cards had many different and varied images of characters, animals, monsters, mixed things, and among them there was one showing a black kid. A few minutes later in the game, another one showed a black man. Someone made the comment that "the black kid grew up so quickly". I said the comment sounded awful to me. It really did: in a game full of images of multiple princes and princesses, fairies and witches, flowers, plants and trees, where one could have said, "the princess changed dresses so quickly", or "the plant became a tree so quickly", or "the prince and princess got married so quickly", what caught people's attention was the presence of black characters, because it's something they don't see every day in their social circle -all the princes, princesses, fairies and witches were, after all, white. When I told other people about this some days later, someone said, "that was a comment you could perfectly have made a few years ago". I wondered, could I? And honestly, I don't even know anymore. I don't think I would, but if I did, it would only show my ignorance -an ignorance that is not my fault, an ignorance I'm not even aware of and therefore I don't bother hiding. So yes, I think I'm better now, and I know I have shown my ignorance many times along the way, and I still do. I would not go back.
But then, these people who care only about their family, their little houses, their 10-blocks neighborhood, their 4kms, seem to be much happier.
So I wonder: what's the right way?
(Please let me know if you know the answer...)
I will do as I sometimes do, and write about an idea not knowing where I'm going yet,
There was an attack in Istanbul, where someone I care about lives. Now I'm worried, athough I know this is probably like our ETA times, when attacks did happen but it was more scary to hear about it from the outside than it was to actually live here.
There was an attack in Istanbul, and most of my facebook "friends" don't know yet, and if they do, they most likely don't care much. Except the few ones who are muslim-haters, who find in every ISIS attack a legitimization of their hate for everything muslim. Anyway. Many of my "friends" are posting photos of themselves with their significant others and their one or two kids, inside or outside their bellies, welcoming the new year. They look happy.
I've been told since I came back I sometimes act like I'm above the rest. I don't think it was true when I was told, and I don't want to sound like it now... But I might. So be ready and forgiving.
I am getting a bit anxious about finding a partner, making a family, etc., and in a way I envy all these people on facebook. But, even though I know they are objectively happier than I am, from where I stand right now (figuratively, since I'm writing from bed) I wouldn't change my life for theirs. I see them, and I see a very small world, and a very limited sight of reality, or a very tightly enclosed reality. Not that mine is much wider, not that I have learnt so much more since I left. I used to live within the same 4km straight line in Madrid, now I still live within the same 4km straight line but 13000km away. I guess 4km is just a practical distance to live within. But in this time I have met many people who come from many different places, and I've become much more away of my limitations, much more conscious of how much I'm missing, of the scope of my ignorance. So yes, maybe I consider myself to be above certain people..., but only above those people whose attitude shows they consider themselves to be above any kind of people they are not familiar with.
I think what motivated the observation about my haughtiness was something that happened while playing a card game with some people. The cards had many different and varied images of characters, animals, monsters, mixed things, and among them there was one showing a black kid. A few minutes later in the game, another one showed a black man. Someone made the comment that "the black kid grew up so quickly". I said the comment sounded awful to me. It really did: in a game full of images of multiple princes and princesses, fairies and witches, flowers, plants and trees, where one could have said, "the princess changed dresses so quickly", or "the plant became a tree so quickly", or "the prince and princess got married so quickly", what caught people's attention was the presence of black characters, because it's something they don't see every day in their social circle -all the princes, princesses, fairies and witches were, after all, white. When I told other people about this some days later, someone said, "that was a comment you could perfectly have made a few years ago". I wondered, could I? And honestly, I don't even know anymore. I don't think I would, but if I did, it would only show my ignorance -an ignorance that is not my fault, an ignorance I'm not even aware of and therefore I don't bother hiding. So yes, I think I'm better now, and I know I have shown my ignorance many times along the way, and I still do. I would not go back.
But then, these people who care only about their family, their little houses, their 10-blocks neighborhood, their 4kms, seem to be much happier.
So I wonder: what's the right way?
(Please let me know if you know the answer...)
martes, 8 de noviembre de 2016
Election day -- the basics
Today, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to write a brief entry.
Why? Because it is the day of the most awkward US presidential election! The most awkward I remember, at least. And I am here in Philadelphia, right in the middle of it!
For those of you who are reading from the future, let me explain. There are two candidates, one from the Republican Party, one from the Democratic Party. The vision that most people have of them as of today, is that one is kind of bad, and the other one is worse. There are a couple of other candidates whose only purpose in this election is to steal voters from one or the other.
So let's start with the kind of bad one, Hillary. AKA "Her". She looked good on paper and she did a great job in the debates, first getting rid of cute grumpy grandpa Bernie Sanders, and then also against her (allegedly) republican adversary. She was cold, sharp and efficient. At first, they tried to sell her as "the" candidate, with a vast experience in politics, also as the First Lady and recently as Secretary of State. There are a couple of things, apart from her husband's extramarital activities, that stain her campaign: an attack to US facilities in Lybia in 2012, after which she was blamed for the security deficiencies, and the use of her private email account to handle classified information while she was Secretary of State that have prompted two FBI investigations, the last one concluding just yesterday, after which she was cleared from criminal charges.
The second candidate, Donald Trump, is an orange man who has never worked in politics before. He is a racist, sexist billionaire with very small hands which apparently he has used in the past to touch a few females, because "when you're a star, you can do anything to them". All Europe wonders how someone like him could have got the republican nomination for president, while Putin laughs about it. His two main electoral promises are:
1. To build a wall between Mexico and the US -- and make Mexicans pay for it.
2. To banish all Muslims from entering the US.
These two combined will "make America great again", which has been the slogan for his campaign.
As incredible as it may seem, he has millions of people backing him, who won't hesitate to defend him passionately whenever he is criticized for any of his racist or sexist comments.
This is basically it. We'll see what happens!!
Why? Because it is the day of the most awkward US presidential election! The most awkward I remember, at least. And I am here in Philadelphia, right in the middle of it!
For those of you who are reading from the future, let me explain. There are two candidates, one from the Republican Party, one from the Democratic Party. The vision that most people have of them as of today, is that one is kind of bad, and the other one is worse. There are a couple of other candidates whose only purpose in this election is to steal voters from one or the other.
So let's start with the kind of bad one, Hillary. AKA "Her". She looked good on paper and she did a great job in the debates, first getting rid of cute grumpy grandpa Bernie Sanders, and then also against her (allegedly) republican adversary. She was cold, sharp and efficient. At first, they tried to sell her as "the" candidate, with a vast experience in politics, also as the First Lady and recently as Secretary of State. There are a couple of things, apart from her husband's extramarital activities, that stain her campaign: an attack to US facilities in Lybia in 2012, after which she was blamed for the security deficiencies, and the use of her private email account to handle classified information while she was Secretary of State that have prompted two FBI investigations, the last one concluding just yesterday, after which she was cleared from criminal charges.
The second candidate, Donald Trump, is an orange man who has never worked in politics before. He is a racist, sexist billionaire with very small hands which apparently he has used in the past to touch a few females, because "when you're a star, you can do anything to them". All Europe wonders how someone like him could have got the republican nomination for president, while Putin laughs about it. His two main electoral promises are:
1. To build a wall between Mexico and the US -- and make Mexicans pay for it.
2. To banish all Muslims from entering the US.
These two combined will "make America great again", which has been the slogan for his campaign.
As incredible as it may seem, he has millions of people backing him, who won't hesitate to defend him passionately whenever he is criticized for any of his racist or sexist comments.
This is basically it. We'll see what happens!!
miércoles, 21 de septiembre de 2016
Rambling
The most interesting thing about writing a blog is that you kind of have an idea of how you want to start, but no clue what it's gonna turn out...
Whenever I start writing, I usually have one or more thoughts that I imagine floating over my head in circles, and I keep rambling as I catch them. Sometimes I add stuff that I wasn't thinking of adding, just because it comes to my mind. Like this whole last paragraph. My apologies.
So going to the beginning of today's ramblings, I've been thinking, again, about why I like blogging. What brought me to think about it was seeing a photo of some Spanish celebrity on one of my cousins' facebook, and reading my cousin's furious comment towards this person. That is one of the many purposes that social media serve, apart from enabling us to see how immensely happy other people's lives are. What people like about social media, and the reason why platforms like facebook or twitter are so successful, is not because they make communication easy. It is because they allow people to throw their personal opinions all over the place when nobody asked and nobody cares. Same reason why I write: do you really care about what you're reading here? And before you answer that question, let me ask you a more pertinent one: "Are" you, even? Most likely not. And if you "are", you surely don't care. Now, do you think I care that you don't care? Nope. I know you don't, but I keep on writing anyway. Because it makes me feel important. It makes me feel that I actually have an opinion, and a strong one, on stuff.
This thought being already completely caged here, let me now talk about death. Again, I was not planning to but it popped up, so I'm sorry. Death. As you probably know, or you would probably know if you "were", I am an atheist. I believe that once you're dead, you're dead and that's it. We have whatever we have here, and there is no afterlife. A religious person might think that this is a very disheartening thought, but for me it's actually quite a relief... So I would say I am not particularly scared about death... But I am scared about death interrupting my life when I'm in the middle of something! And I guess one is always in the middle of something, so maybe I am particularly scared of death after all... And I'm calling it death, but this also applies to illness.
Anyhow. (Hey, this is the first time in my life that I used that word!!!) Today I did a bunch of things that I hadn't done in a long time. I listened to long forgotten music, talked to an old friend, caught myself remembering scenes from years ago... I also read one of those "free for all" pieces of wisdom that you constantly come across on facebook, but this one I liked. It was something like, "every new situation in life will require a different version of yourself". Or something of the sort.
Maybe I am actually Belen 3.1 and Belen 1.0 is no longer supported by this device...
And maybe I should go to sleep.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWqVQr4EPYM
Whenever I start writing, I usually have one or more thoughts that I imagine floating over my head in circles, and I keep rambling as I catch them. Sometimes I add stuff that I wasn't thinking of adding, just because it comes to my mind. Like this whole last paragraph. My apologies.
So going to the beginning of today's ramblings, I've been thinking, again, about why I like blogging. What brought me to think about it was seeing a photo of some Spanish celebrity on one of my cousins' facebook, and reading my cousin's furious comment towards this person. That is one of the many purposes that social media serve, apart from enabling us to see how immensely happy other people's lives are. What people like about social media, and the reason why platforms like facebook or twitter are so successful, is not because they make communication easy. It is because they allow people to throw their personal opinions all over the place when nobody asked and nobody cares. Same reason why I write: do you really care about what you're reading here? And before you answer that question, let me ask you a more pertinent one: "Are" you, even? Most likely not. And if you "are", you surely don't care. Now, do you think I care that you don't care? Nope. I know you don't, but I keep on writing anyway. Because it makes me feel important. It makes me feel that I actually have an opinion, and a strong one, on stuff.
This thought being already completely caged here, let me now talk about death. Again, I was not planning to but it popped up, so I'm sorry. Death. As you probably know, or you would probably know if you "were", I am an atheist. I believe that once you're dead, you're dead and that's it. We have whatever we have here, and there is no afterlife. A religious person might think that this is a very disheartening thought, but for me it's actually quite a relief... So I would say I am not particularly scared about death... But I am scared about death interrupting my life when I'm in the middle of something! And I guess one is always in the middle of something, so maybe I am particularly scared of death after all... And I'm calling it death, but this also applies to illness.
Anyhow. (Hey, this is the first time in my life that I used that word!!!) Today I did a bunch of things that I hadn't done in a long time. I listened to long forgotten music, talked to an old friend, caught myself remembering scenes from years ago... I also read one of those "free for all" pieces of wisdom that you constantly come across on facebook, but this one I liked. It was something like, "every new situation in life will require a different version of yourself". Or something of the sort.
Maybe I am actually Belen 3.1 and Belen 1.0 is no longer supported by this device...
And maybe I should go to sleep.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWqVQr4EPYM
jueves, 28 de julio de 2016
Bernie lovers: it's in your hands to keep America still great.
I am Spanish. I should start admitting that I am not into Spanish politics and yet I am sticking my nose into yours. For some reason though, American politics are very appealing to me. Maybe because they surprisingly look more like a reality show and everything has always this feeling of a huge party full of colors, music and balloons.
What shocks me about American politics is how polarized they look, at least on this election year, and how passionate people are to defend their candidate. Seriously, I don't get it!
There is clearly the bad guy whose only campaign arguments are these:
1. Muslims = terrorists --> no muslims.
2. Mexicans = rapists --> no mexicans --> big wall.
3. Torture = good.
4. Guns = good.
5. Make America great again.
And yet there are so many people supporting him! Why? What good could he possibly do for the country?
But I want to write about something else. I was in a Bernie Sanders little event today - full of colors, music and balloons. These are a few examples of what I saw there.
Here, a Bernie head and a placard reading "Bernie or Jill or both". Ok.
Here, "We the people say never $illary" and "Hillary Murdered Harambe". Haha, funny.
And here, at the back of the crowd, these people. Wtf?
No! NO!!!
American democrats who love Bernie: I agree, he looks like a very nice guy. I understand there are many things to hate in Hillary, even many reasons to distrust her. I see why you think she is corrupt and I see why you think Bernie would make a better president. I agree.
But Bernie is not an option anymore. And we are all sorry for that, but now it's time to move on and face the real options! So there is on one side this woman you hate, and on the other side, the bad guy. The crowd who claims that "Homo sex is sin" and have the answer to "Why you deserve hell". Think of it! Bernie is not an option, so what option is closer to what you want for your country? Or you can look at it the other way, what option is closer to what you DON'T want? Then vote accordingly! Voting for a 3rd party because you hate Hillary is a powerful way to protest, I get it. But do you hate her more than you hate the bad guy? Do you hate her so much that you would surrender your country to the bad guy? Because that is what will happen if you don't vote for her, the "less bad option". I understand that you want to protest, but now it's not the time. Not when your country is the price. Look at Brexit!
Please... Vote responsibly and keep America still great...
What shocks me about American politics is how polarized they look, at least on this election year, and how passionate people are to defend their candidate. Seriously, I don't get it!
There is clearly the bad guy whose only campaign arguments are these:
1. Muslims = terrorists --> no muslims.
2. Mexicans = rapists --> no mexicans --> big wall.
3. Torture = good.
4. Guns = good.
5. Make America great again.
And yet there are so many people supporting him! Why? What good could he possibly do for the country?
But I want to write about something else. I was in a Bernie Sanders little event today - full of colors, music and balloons. These are a few examples of what I saw there.
Here, a Bernie head and a placard reading "Bernie or Jill or both". Ok.
Here, "We the people say never $illary" and "Hillary Murdered Harambe". Haha, funny.
And here, at the back of the crowd, these people. Wtf?
In this video, you can see a placard reading: "When the RNC is racist and the DNC is orwellian we are morally obligated to vote 3rd party".
No! NO!!!
American democrats who love Bernie: I agree, he looks like a very nice guy. I understand there are many things to hate in Hillary, even many reasons to distrust her. I see why you think she is corrupt and I see why you think Bernie would make a better president. I agree.
But Bernie is not an option anymore. And we are all sorry for that, but now it's time to move on and face the real options! So there is on one side this woman you hate, and on the other side, the bad guy. The crowd who claims that "Homo sex is sin" and have the answer to "Why you deserve hell". Think of it! Bernie is not an option, so what option is closer to what you want for your country? Or you can look at it the other way, what option is closer to what you DON'T want? Then vote accordingly! Voting for a 3rd party because you hate Hillary is a powerful way to protest, I get it. But do you hate her more than you hate the bad guy? Do you hate her so much that you would surrender your country to the bad guy? Because that is what will happen if you don't vote for her, the "less bad option". I understand that you want to protest, but now it's not the time. Not when your country is the price. Look at Brexit!
Please... Vote responsibly and keep America still great...
viernes, 8 de julio de 2016
The obvious (or why the utopia of an egalitarian society will never be more than just a utopia)
Another 2 black men were killed by police for no reason. I just read that 3 police officers were killed during a "Black lives matter" protest in Dallas.
Refugees in Europe are victims of anti-immigrant attacks. Europeans fear that their governments are letting terrorists in.
Women are not effectively considered as good as men. Some men -and I would even say, some women- feel they're being attacked by the "feminazi" movement.
Educated and uneducated. Homosexuals and heterosexuals. Democrats and republicans. North and South. 1st world and 3rd world. Right and left. Religious and atheists. Pro and anti. Western and Eastern. Madrid and Barcelona. Rich and poor. Fat and skinny. Omnivores and vegans.
There is this story by Italo Calvino that I'm just about to spoil. "There was a country where they were all thieves." It talks about this country, where people go to other people's houses at night to steal from them, so everybody steals and everybody gets stolen and so the circle closes creating a perfectly balanced society where nobody gets rich and nobody gets poor, until an honest man comes into scene that ruins the system. This man doesn't go out to steal at night, and so the person he won't steal from will become richer, whereas the person who can't steal from him will become poorer.
We try to fight for equality, and we must. But we also need to realize that our fight can never completely succeed. "Nature must not win the game, but she cannot loose."
We blame the powerful for establishing the rules that keep them powerful. We blame white supremacists for racism, male supremacists for sexism, demographic or religious majorities for discrimination.
Ok, let's succeed for an instant and press the magic world reset button and start over, all of us from the exact same "time zero" conditions. Oh, happy day.
Then what happens? What is the first thing you want after the "3, 2, 1, go"? Well, unless you're an idiot, which I doubt, the first thing you want is success. In whatever form it may work for you. Economic, familiar, professional, social, it doesn't matter. Time 0.001 and we're already screwed.
Because for you to stand out among others, others need to stand in. And so you will pick your quality pack and you will become richer, or smarter, or more popular, or prettier, for example.
And it will be much easier if you find your kin, other human beings that share some of their ambitions with you, so you can group together. And the only point of "grouping together" is grouping together "against".
That way, we have that:
1. Individual 1 wants to be richer and smarter. Individual 2 wants to be smarter and popular. Individuals 1 and 2 group together against those who are less smart (i.e. individuals 3 and 4).
2. Individual 2 wants to be smarter and popular. Individual 3 wants to be popular and prettier. Individuals 2 and 3 group together against those who are less popular (i.e. individuals 1 and 4).
3. Individual 3 wants to be popular and prettier. Individual 4 wants to be prettier and richer. Individuals 3 and 4 group together against those who are uglier (i.e. individuals 1 and 2).
4. Individual 4 wants to be prettier and richer. Individual 1 wants to be richer and smarter. Individuals 1 and 4 group together against those who are poorer (i.e. individuals 2 and 3).
Ok, you might think, the system is not perfect but it still kind of works. After all, we all have different qualities and defects, furthermore, what I consider a quality you might consider a defect. We cannot pretend to be a society of clones.
Fine, but then there is a problem, because some qualities come with more potential than others. So in the end it will all translate into "the powerful" and "the powerless", and guess which ones will get to make the rules. (Personally, I wouldn't give too much for individual 3... Just saying.)
And this is after a time zero. Now translate it into a society where the dice were thrown long time ago and there is no magic reset button. The perspective sucks.
Anyway though, you get the point. Or you got the point when you read the headline of this entry and you just kept reading all this nonsense out of inertia or a deep lack of anything better to do. (Dude, I'm sorry for you!)
But this is not intended to be a message of despair... Au contraire! "Nature must not win the game, but she cannot loose"? Oh no, my friend, not like that at all! Just the other way round:
"Nature cannot loose, but she must not win the game."
We will never succeed, but we must keep trying.
With my best wishes for a better world.
Refugees in Europe are victims of anti-immigrant attacks. Europeans fear that their governments are letting terrorists in.
Women are not effectively considered as good as men. Some men -and I would even say, some women- feel they're being attacked by the "feminazi" movement.
Educated and uneducated. Homosexuals and heterosexuals. Democrats and republicans. North and South. 1st world and 3rd world. Right and left. Religious and atheists. Pro and anti. Western and Eastern. Madrid and Barcelona. Rich and poor. Fat and skinny. Omnivores and vegans.
There is this story by Italo Calvino that I'm just about to spoil. "There was a country where they were all thieves." It talks about this country, where people go to other people's houses at night to steal from them, so everybody steals and everybody gets stolen and so the circle closes creating a perfectly balanced society where nobody gets rich and nobody gets poor, until an honest man comes into scene that ruins the system. This man doesn't go out to steal at night, and so the person he won't steal from will become richer, whereas the person who can't steal from him will become poorer.
We try to fight for equality, and we must. But we also need to realize that our fight can never completely succeed. "Nature must not win the game, but she cannot loose."
We blame the powerful for establishing the rules that keep them powerful. We blame white supremacists for racism, male supremacists for sexism, demographic or religious majorities for discrimination.
Ok, let's succeed for an instant and press the magic world reset button and start over, all of us from the exact same "time zero" conditions. Oh, happy day.
Then what happens? What is the first thing you want after the "3, 2, 1, go"? Well, unless you're an idiot, which I doubt, the first thing you want is success. In whatever form it may work for you. Economic, familiar, professional, social, it doesn't matter. Time 0.001 and we're already screwed.
Because for you to stand out among others, others need to stand in. And so you will pick your quality pack and you will become richer, or smarter, or more popular, or prettier, for example.
And it will be much easier if you find your kin, other human beings that share some of their ambitions with you, so you can group together. And the only point of "grouping together" is grouping together "against".
That way, we have that:
1. Individual 1 wants to be richer and smarter. Individual 2 wants to be smarter and popular. Individuals 1 and 2 group together against those who are less smart (i.e. individuals 3 and 4).
2. Individual 2 wants to be smarter and popular. Individual 3 wants to be popular and prettier. Individuals 2 and 3 group together against those who are less popular (i.e. individuals 1 and 4).
3. Individual 3 wants to be popular and prettier. Individual 4 wants to be prettier and richer. Individuals 3 and 4 group together against those who are uglier (i.e. individuals 1 and 2).
4. Individual 4 wants to be prettier and richer. Individual 1 wants to be richer and smarter. Individuals 1 and 4 group together against those who are poorer (i.e. individuals 2 and 3).
Ok, you might think, the system is not perfect but it still kind of works. After all, we all have different qualities and defects, furthermore, what I consider a quality you might consider a defect. We cannot pretend to be a society of clones.
Fine, but then there is a problem, because some qualities come with more potential than others. So in the end it will all translate into "the powerful" and "the powerless", and guess which ones will get to make the rules. (Personally, I wouldn't give too much for individual 3... Just saying.)
And this is after a time zero. Now translate it into a society where the dice were thrown long time ago and there is no magic reset button. The perspective sucks.
Anyway though, you get the point. Or you got the point when you read the headline of this entry and you just kept reading all this nonsense out of inertia or a deep lack of anything better to do. (Dude, I'm sorry for you!)
But this is not intended to be a message of despair... Au contraire! "Nature must not win the game, but she cannot loose"? Oh no, my friend, not like that at all! Just the other way round:
"Nature cannot loose, but she must not win the game."
We will never succeed, but we must keep trying.
With my best wishes for a better world.
lunes, 6 de junio de 2016
Died doing what they loved...
I always think it's funny --or sad-- when I read that somebody died (while working) doing "what they loved".
I'm sure if the day comes, I will be happy to be a pathologist..., but there are many other things I'd rather be doing at the moment of my death! To name a few, I like reading, listening to music, watching shows or movies, hanging with friends, having sex, singing, taking a shower, eating chocolate or sleeping.
Thanks.
I'm sure if the day comes, I will be happy to be a pathologist..., but there are many other things I'd rather be doing at the moment of my death! To name a few, I like reading, listening to music, watching shows or movies, hanging with friends, having sex, singing, taking a shower, eating chocolate or sleeping.
Thanks.
jueves, 19 de mayo de 2016
Duh
It's been so long!! But today, as I was coming back home, I felt an urgent need to sit down and write. Maybe because it's so sunny today.
I read this morning about the plane that crashed in Egypt. I don't want to trivialize it, but I couldn't help thinking, why do I have to read about flight accidents every fucking time I am days close to taking a flight? Then I thought, dozens of people died (likely) and I am somehow making it about myself. Like I don't care about any of those people. And maybe if my plane happens to crash, somebody else will make it about themselves like my death doesn't matter at all.
Which brings me to the point. Nothing significant would happen if I died. The world would not be different without me on it. This, on one hand, makes me think, fuck! How unimportant I am! How pointless my life is! But on the other hand..., oh wow, it feels great! It feels like freedom. I have no responsibility to the world at all. Whatever it is that I stop doing (i.e. by dying), if it is really important, it will get done by any other. I will be grieved for a while and after that, my ever presence in this life will be forgotten forever, and I will never have existed.
So fuck it! I'm gonna go enjoy my freedom!
I read this morning about the plane that crashed in Egypt. I don't want to trivialize it, but I couldn't help thinking, why do I have to read about flight accidents every fucking time I am days close to taking a flight? Then I thought, dozens of people died (likely) and I am somehow making it about myself. Like I don't care about any of those people. And maybe if my plane happens to crash, somebody else will make it about themselves like my death doesn't matter at all.
Which brings me to the point. Nothing significant would happen if I died. The world would not be different without me on it. This, on one hand, makes me think, fuck! How unimportant I am! How pointless my life is! But on the other hand..., oh wow, it feels great! It feels like freedom. I have no responsibility to the world at all. Whatever it is that I stop doing (i.e. by dying), if it is really important, it will get done by any other. I will be grieved for a while and after that, my ever presence in this life will be forgotten forever, and I will never have existed.
So fuck it! I'm gonna go enjoy my freedom!
martes, 1 de marzo de 2016
Just for the fun of it
I thought I wouldn't write again for a while, but here I am...
Just to share a brief thought.
Some time ago I watched a bizarre movie or some TV show episode, I'm not quite sure. It was about a killer who abducted his victims, placed them in front of a camera showing their image live on a website, and used a catheter to inject them with a continuous infusion of heparin (anticoagulant) starting at a certain infusion rate. For every number of new visits to the website, the infusion rate would increase. Eventually, the person would slowly bleed to death in front of the viewers. And this procedure would be repeated with the next victim.
The movie/episode brought up the following dilemma: viewers, as persons with their social moral principles, would of course not want another person to die. But at the same time, as viewers, they wanted to see what was going on, even knowing that their clicking on the website would contribute, though slightly, to the victim's death. Needless to say, all the victims ended up dying, the reasoning being, nobody cares about moral principles when they are just one out of thousands of anonymous users visiting a website, safe and bored on their couches at the other side of the screen. And they stared and watched a person bleed to death. And then, back to the real physical world, they would comment about how depraved this killer was.
And I can't help thinking that this american people cannot seriously be so easily manipulated, that maybe they are just anonymous viewers willing to see one more wisecrack, to be amused, curious to see what happens if this Donald Trump gets to be the final candidate, wanting to keep him alive for yet a little longer...
Because I really can't imagine how anyone would want this man to be their president.
Happy super tuesday...
Just to share a brief thought.
Some time ago I watched a bizarre movie or some TV show episode, I'm not quite sure. It was about a killer who abducted his victims, placed them in front of a camera showing their image live on a website, and used a catheter to inject them with a continuous infusion of heparin (anticoagulant) starting at a certain infusion rate. For every number of new visits to the website, the infusion rate would increase. Eventually, the person would slowly bleed to death in front of the viewers. And this procedure would be repeated with the next victim.
The movie/episode brought up the following dilemma: viewers, as persons with their social moral principles, would of course not want another person to die. But at the same time, as viewers, they wanted to see what was going on, even knowing that their clicking on the website would contribute, though slightly, to the victim's death. Needless to say, all the victims ended up dying, the reasoning being, nobody cares about moral principles when they are just one out of thousands of anonymous users visiting a website, safe and bored on their couches at the other side of the screen. And they stared and watched a person bleed to death. And then, back to the real physical world, they would comment about how depraved this killer was.
And I can't help thinking that this american people cannot seriously be so easily manipulated, that maybe they are just anonymous viewers willing to see one more wisecrack, to be amused, curious to see what happens if this Donald Trump gets to be the final candidate, wanting to keep him alive for yet a little longer...
Because I really can't imagine how anyone would want this man to be their president.
Happy super tuesday...
domingo, 25 de octubre de 2015
domingo, 4 de octubre de 2015
What makes us
I thought my next entry would be about the most recent story I've read, The machine stops. But a facebook friend of mine made me change my mind.
So I have this facebook friend who could never be my friend in real life, ever. The way we think, our points of view, the morals from which we judge things, are incompatible and inconciliable.
We went to kindergarten together for 3 years. Then we never saw each other again, though we lived in the same neighborhood and he went to the same primary, secondary and high school as my cousin. And then one day, after more than 20 years not having talked or thought about each other, he found me on facebook and we started talking about our lives, what we were doing, the things we liked, music, movies... A quick catch up for a few days, which I believe both of us found interesting and nice. We even talked about meeting in person some day. Then after some time we forgot about each other again - but we stayed friends on facebook.
But for some time now, every time I log in, facebook shows me around 4 or 5 articles he's posted and every time I am so happy that we never got to meet again.
If I had to define him, from the limited information I get from what he posts, I would say he's a radical christian, islam hater, ultraconservative, fascist, racist, homophobic. He believes he has the moral authority to opine on how the rest of the people choose to live their lives (or die their deaths). He likes playing the rol of the christian victim, prosecuted for his faith. He sees life as "the world VS christians". He doesn't like the spanish Popular Party because it's not conservative enough. He doesn't like the new Pope because the way he observes christian principles is too loose and he's too permissive.
If he had to define me in return, he'd probably say I (me!!) am immoral, a babykiller, a terrorism supporter, a pervert, a sinner, a trouble maker. He'd reproach that I protest against bullfights but not against abortion and on this basis he would call me a hypocrite. The same way, he'd reproach that I protest about muslims but not about christians prosecution - again, hypocrite. And many other things he'd say about me, which would be probably as true as what I just said about him.
Anyway, one after another, sometimes I comment on his posts, sometimes I think it's not worth it. Sometimes he replies, sometimes I guess he thinks I'm not worth it. But the last straw was yesterday when he posted a link to an article based on the spanish version of this site ("Homosexuality and pedophilia"), calling attention on how pedophilia was much more prevalent among homosexuals than heterosexuals and therefore homosexuality equals immorality. I added "hypocrite" to the list of characteristics to define him, and I couldn't help mentioning the prevalence of pedophilia among christian priests so now I guess he added "pedophile" to his list of characteristics to define me (if he even cares about me at all, which I doubt).
The thing is, in my feverish state, I started thinking how he and I, two people with a similar background, educated in similar schools, according to similar ethics, have grown up to be so radically different. To what extent are we responsible for our thoughts?
During our childhood, it's our family that provides us the moral principles from which we will continue to see the world as we grow up. They are the first to tell us this is right and this is wrong. We don't get to choose our family. Had I been educated by this guy's family or he by mine, today I might be a fascist or he a pervert.
Then our parents decide what school to take us. At this point there are many factors intervening, none of them we control. Similar ideology between the school and our parents, quality of academic education, proximity, cost, references. I still don't know why my parents took me to a religious school, I don't know how much a religious education mattered to them, and I suspect, at that moment, it was one of the pluses. But at the same time they managed to counteract the school religious strictness with statements like "But no one really knows for sure", "It's not exactly like that", and such.
By our adolescence our moral principles are probably already set but still subject to shaping. From this point on, what matters most is the people we interact with, and these are either family determined or completely random (life determined). In any case, nothing we can do about it. But we already have a working definition of what is right and what is wrong, we already have a fixed level of indulgency beyond which we won't doubt to call something unacceptable, we have a permissible flexibility to establish a certain interval of doubt inside which we are able to admit that someone else's way might be as valid (or more valid) as ours. I guess my threshold for wrongness was higher than my facebook guy's, and I always recall my friend Santi as the first person who proved to me that one can be both a smart student and a heavy metal lover. I know it sounds lame, but that summer was a before and after in my conception of right and wrong, and it definitely widened my interval of doubt. My meeting him was completely random and it could have never happened as much as it did happen.
So life goes on, and we either do or do not meet people who are different or come from different backgrounds, and we either do or do not admit that it doesn't make them any worse (if anything, considering this guy's and my fortunate background, it makes them better). But we don't choose the people we meet. We only get to choose how we judge them. And that has already been conditioned for us before.
With all this I mean, if we don't control the people and events that shape our morality, who are we to judge how other people think?
Is my facebook friend to blame for his repudiation to homosexuals when god's existence for him is as real (and as provable) as god's inexistence is for me, and his god says homosexuality is a sin?
Am I to blame for not being sure about the ethics -or unethics- of abortion? Or for supporting euthanasia, after all the suffering I've seen (which he has not) and I've not been able to ease?
Is anybody qualified to judge anybody else?
So I have this facebook friend who could never be my friend in real life, ever. The way we think, our points of view, the morals from which we judge things, are incompatible and inconciliable.
We went to kindergarten together for 3 years. Then we never saw each other again, though we lived in the same neighborhood and he went to the same primary, secondary and high school as my cousin. And then one day, after more than 20 years not having talked or thought about each other, he found me on facebook and we started talking about our lives, what we were doing, the things we liked, music, movies... A quick catch up for a few days, which I believe both of us found interesting and nice. We even talked about meeting in person some day. Then after some time we forgot about each other again - but we stayed friends on facebook.
But for some time now, every time I log in, facebook shows me around 4 or 5 articles he's posted and every time I am so happy that we never got to meet again.
If I had to define him, from the limited information I get from what he posts, I would say he's a radical christian, islam hater, ultraconservative, fascist, racist, homophobic. He believes he has the moral authority to opine on how the rest of the people choose to live their lives (or die their deaths). He likes playing the rol of the christian victim, prosecuted for his faith. He sees life as "the world VS christians". He doesn't like the spanish Popular Party because it's not conservative enough. He doesn't like the new Pope because the way he observes christian principles is too loose and he's too permissive.
If he had to define me in return, he'd probably say I (me!!) am immoral, a babykiller, a terrorism supporter, a pervert, a sinner, a trouble maker. He'd reproach that I protest against bullfights but not against abortion and on this basis he would call me a hypocrite. The same way, he'd reproach that I protest about muslims but not about christians prosecution - again, hypocrite. And many other things he'd say about me, which would be probably as true as what I just said about him.
Anyway, one after another, sometimes I comment on his posts, sometimes I think it's not worth it. Sometimes he replies, sometimes I guess he thinks I'm not worth it. But the last straw was yesterday when he posted a link to an article based on the spanish version of this site ("Homosexuality and pedophilia"), calling attention on how pedophilia was much more prevalent among homosexuals than heterosexuals and therefore homosexuality equals immorality. I added "hypocrite" to the list of characteristics to define him, and I couldn't help mentioning the prevalence of pedophilia among christian priests so now I guess he added "pedophile" to his list of characteristics to define me (if he even cares about me at all, which I doubt).
The thing is, in my feverish state, I started thinking how he and I, two people with a similar background, educated in similar schools, according to similar ethics, have grown up to be so radically different. To what extent are we responsible for our thoughts?
During our childhood, it's our family that provides us the moral principles from which we will continue to see the world as we grow up. They are the first to tell us this is right and this is wrong. We don't get to choose our family. Had I been educated by this guy's family or he by mine, today I might be a fascist or he a pervert.
Then our parents decide what school to take us. At this point there are many factors intervening, none of them we control. Similar ideology between the school and our parents, quality of academic education, proximity, cost, references. I still don't know why my parents took me to a religious school, I don't know how much a religious education mattered to them, and I suspect, at that moment, it was one of the pluses. But at the same time they managed to counteract the school religious strictness with statements like "But no one really knows for sure", "It's not exactly like that", and such.
By our adolescence our moral principles are probably already set but still subject to shaping. From this point on, what matters most is the people we interact with, and these are either family determined or completely random (life determined). In any case, nothing we can do about it. But we already have a working definition of what is right and what is wrong, we already have a fixed level of indulgency beyond which we won't doubt to call something unacceptable, we have a permissible flexibility to establish a certain interval of doubt inside which we are able to admit that someone else's way might be as valid (or more valid) as ours. I guess my threshold for wrongness was higher than my facebook guy's, and I always recall my friend Santi as the first person who proved to me that one can be both a smart student and a heavy metal lover. I know it sounds lame, but that summer was a before and after in my conception of right and wrong, and it definitely widened my interval of doubt. My meeting him was completely random and it could have never happened as much as it did happen.
So life goes on, and we either do or do not meet people who are different or come from different backgrounds, and we either do or do not admit that it doesn't make them any worse (if anything, considering this guy's and my fortunate background, it makes them better). But we don't choose the people we meet. We only get to choose how we judge them. And that has already been conditioned for us before.
With all this I mean, if we don't control the people and events that shape our morality, who are we to judge how other people think?
Is my facebook friend to blame for his repudiation to homosexuals when god's existence for him is as real (and as provable) as god's inexistence is for me, and his god says homosexuality is a sin?
Am I to blame for not being sure about the ethics -or unethics- of abortion? Or for supporting euthanasia, after all the suffering I've seen (which he has not) and I've not been able to ease?
Is anybody qualified to judge anybody else?
jueves, 6 de agosto de 2015
It's what she does to him
I woke up this morning humming this song.
I'm having lunch at Wendy's, and BAM!
Sorry that my last entries are not too deep...
I'm having lunch at Wendy's, and BAM!
Sorry that my last entries are not too deep...
sábado, 18 de julio de 2015
domingo, 21 de junio de 2015
Embrace mediocrity
After a while, here's another thing worth writing about.
This is one of those TEDx talks. This one is called "Average is awesome: embrace mediocrity as the key to success". I recommend that you watch it because it's very interesting, but in case you're too lazy I will try to summarize it for you.
So this guy says:
- He was bored, home alone, checking his facebook and thinking of how one of his friends' life was so much better than his.
- Today's society sets our minds in a way that we think "the top" is an achievement on itself, regardless what it implies.
- What matters is not the achievement on itself, but our interpretation of it.
- People who have a few options are generally happier with their choices than people who have many options, and apparently there are studies that support this statement.
- When making a choice (he talks about getting the best sweater in a mall), there are the maximisers, who compare all possible choices and take their time to make sure that they pick the best one; this guys pick better options. And then there are the satisfisers (am I spelling it right?), who look at possible choices one by one until they come to one that is good enough for them, and then they stop looking; this guys are happier with their choices, even when they are objectively not as good as those of a maximiser.
- If we could be just ok with our own mediocrity instead of aspiring to excellence, we would be more satisfied with what we have.
Now, my thoughts:
First I thought when I read the title, if this guy really believed what he's preaching, he probably wouldn't be giving a TEDx talk.
But anyway.
I agree with many of the things he says. I agree that working for the number 1 company won't necessarily make you happy, even if it's objectively better than the number 10 company, which is not as bad either. It all depends on how much you care about what others think of you and how important it is for you to impress people. It depends on whether you are able or not to admit that even if neurosurgery sounds sooooo cool, pathology just works better for you.
On the other hand, I don't think embracing mediocrity without aspiring to anything better than what we have is the best approach. Like I said some other day, life is a succession of decisions and achievements. It is true that achievements on themselves won't necessarily make us happy, but the fact that we were able to fight for something we wanted and eventually get it does. Because even if after a while we realise that we don't really like it that much, we feel proud of ourselves, and that is some sort of happiness. If we limit ourselves to the comfort of our mediocrity we won't keep growing as individuals. As long as we don't loose perspective. As long as we are able to admit our mistakes without shame, as long as we are able to admit that we prefer number 10 over number 1, without fearing what others will think. Without fearing the word "looser". Knowing that what we loose going a few numbers down, doesn't matter to us as much as what we can win, and keeping in mind that different things are differently important to different people.
He gives this example with chocolates. People who pick the best out of six possible kinds of chocolate are happier with their chocolate than people who pick the best out of thirty. Ok, good. But these poor people were only given a very limited number of options. They don't know what they're missing and this ignorance makes them happy. It's only when they find out that other random people (not better than themselves in any other way) were given way more options, that they start feeling cheated. Knowledge is power, they say, but with great power comes great responsibility. And once you come to know that there were actually thirty different kinds of chocolate and you're given the possibility to try them all, and you believe you can find one that is better than the one you got, then why not? Unless you decide that you have better things to do with two hours of your life than finding an awesome fucking sweater. But in any case, it's only up to you to decide whether you want to sacrifice your time or your sweater's quality, and this is where you have to be honest to yourself and find out what you really care about the most.
In the same line of thoughts, since every choice implies the possibility of being wrong as well as the need to give up every other option, the more options you have, the harder it will be for you to decide. First, because it is more likely that you will not make the best possible decision, as the best is only one out of thirty. And second, because giving up five different kinds of chocolate is better than giving up twenty nine, especially if they let you try them only to then take them away from you. However, that doesn't mean you should deliberately limit your options or content with mediocrity when you can aspire to something better. Otherwise, we should have never come outside the cave.
So, the real problem comes when you go to facebook and you compare your otherwise satisfying life to the apparently much better life that you think your friends (facebook friends) have according to the awesome photos they are publishing. The problem comes when you see someone who grew up with you, or who went to school with you, or who shared with you a significant part of their, let's say, development as citizens of the world, someone who started from the same starting point and under the same starting conditions as you did, and you realise that, objectively, either personally, socially or laborally, they are doing better. And you wonder what you did wrong that they did right.
Honestly, I'm still looking for an answer to that question.
This is one of those TEDx talks. This one is called "Average is awesome: embrace mediocrity as the key to success". I recommend that you watch it because it's very interesting, but in case you're too lazy I will try to summarize it for you.
So this guy says:
- He was bored, home alone, checking his facebook and thinking of how one of his friends' life was so much better than his.
- Today's society sets our minds in a way that we think "the top" is an achievement on itself, regardless what it implies.
- What matters is not the achievement on itself, but our interpretation of it.
- People who have a few options are generally happier with their choices than people who have many options, and apparently there are studies that support this statement.
- When making a choice (he talks about getting the best sweater in a mall), there are the maximisers, who compare all possible choices and take their time to make sure that they pick the best one; this guys pick better options. And then there are the satisfisers (am I spelling it right?), who look at possible choices one by one until they come to one that is good enough for them, and then they stop looking; this guys are happier with their choices, even when they are objectively not as good as those of a maximiser.
- If we could be just ok with our own mediocrity instead of aspiring to excellence, we would be more satisfied with what we have.
Now, my thoughts:
First I thought when I read the title, if this guy really believed what he's preaching, he probably wouldn't be giving a TEDx talk.
But anyway.
I agree with many of the things he says. I agree that working for the number 1 company won't necessarily make you happy, even if it's objectively better than the number 10 company, which is not as bad either. It all depends on how much you care about what others think of you and how important it is for you to impress people. It depends on whether you are able or not to admit that even if neurosurgery sounds sooooo cool, pathology just works better for you.
On the other hand, I don't think embracing mediocrity without aspiring to anything better than what we have is the best approach. Like I said some other day, life is a succession of decisions and achievements. It is true that achievements on themselves won't necessarily make us happy, but the fact that we were able to fight for something we wanted and eventually get it does. Because even if after a while we realise that we don't really like it that much, we feel proud of ourselves, and that is some sort of happiness. If we limit ourselves to the comfort of our mediocrity we won't keep growing as individuals. As long as we don't loose perspective. As long as we are able to admit our mistakes without shame, as long as we are able to admit that we prefer number 10 over number 1, without fearing what others will think. Without fearing the word "looser". Knowing that what we loose going a few numbers down, doesn't matter to us as much as what we can win, and keeping in mind that different things are differently important to different people.
He gives this example with chocolates. People who pick the best out of six possible kinds of chocolate are happier with their chocolate than people who pick the best out of thirty. Ok, good. But these poor people were only given a very limited number of options. They don't know what they're missing and this ignorance makes them happy. It's only when they find out that other random people (not better than themselves in any other way) were given way more options, that they start feeling cheated. Knowledge is power, they say, but with great power comes great responsibility. And once you come to know that there were actually thirty different kinds of chocolate and you're given the possibility to try them all, and you believe you can find one that is better than the one you got, then why not? Unless you decide that you have better things to do with two hours of your life than finding an awesome fucking sweater. But in any case, it's only up to you to decide whether you want to sacrifice your time or your sweater's quality, and this is where you have to be honest to yourself and find out what you really care about the most.
In the same line of thoughts, since every choice implies the possibility of being wrong as well as the need to give up every other option, the more options you have, the harder it will be for you to decide. First, because it is more likely that you will not make the best possible decision, as the best is only one out of thirty. And second, because giving up five different kinds of chocolate is better than giving up twenty nine, especially if they let you try them only to then take them away from you. However, that doesn't mean you should deliberately limit your options or content with mediocrity when you can aspire to something better. Otherwise, we should have never come outside the cave.
So, the real problem comes when you go to facebook and you compare your otherwise satisfying life to the apparently much better life that you think your friends (facebook friends) have according to the awesome photos they are publishing. The problem comes when you see someone who grew up with you, or who went to school with you, or who shared with you a significant part of their, let's say, development as citizens of the world, someone who started from the same starting point and under the same starting conditions as you did, and you realise that, objectively, either personally, socially or laborally, they are doing better. And you wonder what you did wrong that they did right.
Honestly, I'm still looking for an answer to that question.
martes, 5 de mayo de 2015
Not here nor there
Here I am again after one whole month, to bring you some news: I am not happy.
One of the last times I visited NY, or maybe even the last time, I had a rebelation that I don´t think I shared here. Or maybe I did. Anyways. I was cleaning the dishes after lunch and I don´t remember if I had already started my residency or was about to start it, but I still had the idea that I would be able to work and study at the same time, and I had it very clear that my new residency would only be a temporary thing while I got ready to apply for a US residency. And I remember I thought, I know exactly where I wanna be, and it´s not where I am right now, but I need to be where I am right now in order to get there, so I wanna be right where I am right now. Yes, my thinking doesn´t care about correction in its speech, but don´t judge it.
The thing is I concluded that, in order to be "happy", or let´s say satisfied, I need to feel that I wanna be where I am, which is not the same as saying that I am where I wanna be. I might not be where I wanna be, but I choose to be there because that will take me where I wanna be. As long as I know where I wanna be, it should be fine.
Well that feeling is gone now. I still know where I wanna be, and I really can´t say that I dislike where I am, but I know it´s not taking me there anymore.
So... I guess I will just go to bed.
One of the last times I visited NY, or maybe even the last time, I had a rebelation that I don´t think I shared here. Or maybe I did. Anyways. I was cleaning the dishes after lunch and I don´t remember if I had already started my residency or was about to start it, but I still had the idea that I would be able to work and study at the same time, and I had it very clear that my new residency would only be a temporary thing while I got ready to apply for a US residency. And I remember I thought, I know exactly where I wanna be, and it´s not where I am right now, but I need to be where I am right now in order to get there, so I wanna be right where I am right now. Yes, my thinking doesn´t care about correction in its speech, but don´t judge it.
The thing is I concluded that, in order to be "happy", or let´s say satisfied, I need to feel that I wanna be where I am, which is not the same as saying that I am where I wanna be. I might not be where I wanna be, but I choose to be there because that will take me where I wanna be. As long as I know where I wanna be, it should be fine.
Well that feeling is gone now. I still know where I wanna be, and I really can´t say that I dislike where I am, but I know it´s not taking me there anymore.
So... I guess I will just go to bed.
martes, 7 de abril de 2015
Spot the difference (or when Charlie keeps silence)
Back in the day when people were Charlie, three months ago today, everybody spoke a word in defence of freedom of expression. Good times, those days. Good people.
Well, in case you haven´t heard, there was a terrorist attack in a university in Kenya last week. Kenya, by the way, is a country in Africa. 147 people, mostly students, were killed.
Like it happened with Charlie, I would have expected some facebook comments like "I plan to go to the university tomorrow, and you won´t stop me", or maybe some photos of defiant people actually going to the university.
But nope.
One of my facebook friends said "I am Kenya".
Another one posted the news from Le Monde and changed his profile pic to show this photo:
A third one posted this article in Spanish ("When not every death from terrorism hurts the same").
And that has been all, so far.
After the attacks in France, I said I was not Charlie. That did not mean I wasn´t horrified, angry and sad about the killings just like everybody else.
And I´m sure this doesn´t mean people are not horrified, angry and sad about this attack in Kenya. But then why aren´t we posting about it like we did about Charlie?
Let me translate some lines from the article. "As young as the university students from here, with the same hopes as the students from here, with so much life ahead of them as the students from here." Talking about terrorism, "It´s a global threat that does not cause a global pain. Kenya´s dead are not our dead, even when the terrorists are the same." "Unfortunately, we still see death in black and white."
Well, I´m not sure about that last line. I don´t think it has anything to do with black or white. But I do think, sadly, we are so used to hearing about poor people dying in the third world, that a few more deaths among millions don´t cause as much shock as a bunch of french guys killed. The killings in France make us, the first world, realize that the threat is real and is here, much more than whatever happens in Kenya or any other developing country. (I hate the expression "developing country", btw. It´s just a way to say "really poor people" without having to feel awful about it.)
Anyway, my point again, we protest, but we keep focusing on the wrong reasons. This is not white people not caring about black lives. This is not terrorists versus freedom of expression, muslims versus jews or the IS versus kenyan university students. This is humans versus humans. And that´s what we should speak up about.
viernes, 27 de febrero de 2015
Of muslims and men
Ok, this is not fresh news, but I haven´t had much time to blog about it, so...
A couple of weeks ago I read this news on BBC about the three muslims that were killed in North Carolina. The headline went something like "Three muslims killed in North Carolina". Other news websites had similar headlines too. The news talked about some three muslim students that had been killed, supposedly after a fight over a parking place, though there was a possibility that it would have been a hate crime.
Well, here is something that would not have annoyed me two years ago. Even more, I wouldn´t even have noticed it. But the headlines did say "Three muslims". "Three muslims", or "Three muslim students", or "Three young muslims", everywhere I checked. Also in the NY Times.
Quoting directly from the latter: "The victims’ families described it as a hate crime. The police said that the shooting appeared to have been motivated by “an ongoing neighbor dispute over parking,” but that they were investigating whether religious hatred had contributed to the killings."
So, as I was saying, two years ago I wouldn´t even have noticed they were saying "Three muslims", instead of "Three people". In Spain, for some reason, we always specify if the person we´re talking about is south american, or black, or asian (and actually, we use "chinese" for asian). But now it sounds weird to me. The headlines should have read three "people", and then the text should have mentioned that a hate crime was suspected because these three people happened to be muslims and the killer happened not to be. Otherwise, we´re making assumptions we shouldn´t make. We´re actually turning a crime into a hate crime.
Speaking about hate crimes... This whole thing is getting crazy. The day after the killings in France, I survived a fake bomb alert when I was trying to go back home after work. It was about 7pm and I took the Metro to Chamartín station, where I would transfer to the RENFE train. When I got to the station, they were shutting down all RENFE lines running to Atocha, which happens to be my last stop. They were announcing trains wouldn´t run because of government orders.
After the previous day events, people were nervous. Even I was nervous. Of course I imagined something like a bomb alert, and I didn´t want to stay in a big station like Chamartín. I thought of an alternative route to get home, but then they announced some Metro lines were being shut down too. Finally, I decided it would be easier to avoid the main train and metro lines, and go to my parents´ house instead. On my way, I got a message about the bomb alert in Nuevos Ministerios station, and I texted my family not to go there.
At the end, of course, it was a fake alert. Someone had forgotten a package with the word "STORM" at the station. But I have to admit it, I was scared. And I felt stupid after.
The last few weeks, when I got off the train in Chamartín every morning, there were three cops at the entrance, wearing bulletproof vests and carrying a huge machine gun. Actually, I´m not sure if I can say "huge", because I don´t know how big a regular machine gun is, but it does look huge to me. The cops stood there and did nothing. Sometimes they took a few steps to the left, a few to the right... I wondered why they were there.
Last week the cops disappeared, and I wondered why they were gone.
And today, I saw four of them in Atocha station. Dispersed, this time. Standing with their vests and their machine guns and taking a few steps from time to time. And I wonder why they are here. They look pretty intimidating, sure, but they won´t stop me if I carry a bomb in my backpack. I could kill all these hundreds of little ants heading to work if I wanted to. And their sole presence there makes me feel insecure.
It would all be so much easier if we realized how unimportant it is whatever each one of us thinks comes after... We all are nothing but (bio)chemistry.
A couple of weeks ago I read this news on BBC about the three muslims that were killed in North Carolina. The headline went something like "Three muslims killed in North Carolina". Other news websites had similar headlines too. The news talked about some three muslim students that had been killed, supposedly after a fight over a parking place, though there was a possibility that it would have been a hate crime.
Well, here is something that would not have annoyed me two years ago. Even more, I wouldn´t even have noticed it. But the headlines did say "Three muslims". "Three muslims", or "Three muslim students", or "Three young muslims", everywhere I checked. Also in the NY Times.
Quoting directly from the latter: "The victims’ families described it as a hate crime. The police said that the shooting appeared to have been motivated by “an ongoing neighbor dispute over parking,” but that they were investigating whether religious hatred had contributed to the killings."
So, as I was saying, two years ago I wouldn´t even have noticed they were saying "Three muslims", instead of "Three people". In Spain, for some reason, we always specify if the person we´re talking about is south american, or black, or asian (and actually, we use "chinese" for asian). But now it sounds weird to me. The headlines should have read three "people", and then the text should have mentioned that a hate crime was suspected because these three people happened to be muslims and the killer happened not to be. Otherwise, we´re making assumptions we shouldn´t make. We´re actually turning a crime into a hate crime.
Speaking about hate crimes... This whole thing is getting crazy. The day after the killings in France, I survived a fake bomb alert when I was trying to go back home after work. It was about 7pm and I took the Metro to Chamartín station, where I would transfer to the RENFE train. When I got to the station, they were shutting down all RENFE lines running to Atocha, which happens to be my last stop. They were announcing trains wouldn´t run because of government orders.
After the previous day events, people were nervous. Even I was nervous. Of course I imagined something like a bomb alert, and I didn´t want to stay in a big station like Chamartín. I thought of an alternative route to get home, but then they announced some Metro lines were being shut down too. Finally, I decided it would be easier to avoid the main train and metro lines, and go to my parents´ house instead. On my way, I got a message about the bomb alert in Nuevos Ministerios station, and I texted my family not to go there.
At the end, of course, it was a fake alert. Someone had forgotten a package with the word "STORM" at the station. But I have to admit it, I was scared. And I felt stupid after.
The last few weeks, when I got off the train in Chamartín every morning, there were three cops at the entrance, wearing bulletproof vests and carrying a huge machine gun. Actually, I´m not sure if I can say "huge", because I don´t know how big a regular machine gun is, but it does look huge to me. The cops stood there and did nothing. Sometimes they took a few steps to the left, a few to the right... I wondered why they were there.
Last week the cops disappeared, and I wondered why they were gone.
And today, I saw four of them in Atocha station. Dispersed, this time. Standing with their vests and their machine guns and taking a few steps from time to time. And I wonder why they are here. They look pretty intimidating, sure, but they won´t stop me if I carry a bomb in my backpack. I could kill all these hundreds of little ants heading to work if I wanted to. And their sole presence there makes me feel insecure.
It would all be so much easier if we realized how unimportant it is whatever each one of us thinks comes after... We all are nothing but (bio)chemistry.
miércoles, 11 de febrero de 2015
Disrupted
Ok, this posting has nothing to do with me feeling disrupted, or with disruption, or with anything starting with "disrupt-" or remotely related. But, because it´s my blog and I can do as I please, I want to use the title to inform you that yes, I feel disrupted, and that word, in English, just like that, popped up in my mind on my way to work this morning, and the only reason why I´m telling you about how disrupted I feel is to notice that I haven´t been able to find a word that better expresses how I feel in Spanish. Weird?
And now, let´s move on to the real subject of this posting which is, again, Catch-22. Let me give you the real title for the posting: "A stupid masterpiece".
As I keep reading, I wander about how incredibly stupidly brilliant the book is. From page 62 now, I still doubt that I will be able to finish it, but every single paragraph I read, I want to share in the blog. Even whole pages I want to share. It´s amazing. The language is absolutely not correct, neither it is the content of it, and no general plot has really started to unfold so far. It´s all about some Col. Something, Lt. Someone, names and more names and nicknames and short anecdotes and more anecdotes that lead one to the next and so on, in the middle of a war that puts the most insane of people together and makes them even more insane.
I will try to be very, very picky and restrictive about the fragments I share, but here´s a few of them that I hope you enjoy.
[“It was a godsend,” Doc Daneeka confessed solemnly. “Most of the other doctors were soon in the service, and things picked up overnight. The corner location really started paying off, and I soon found myself handling more patients than I could handle competently. I upped my kickback fee with those two drugstores. The beauty parlors were good for two, three abortions a week. Things couldn’t have been better, and then look what happened. They had to send a guy from the draft board around to look me over. I was Four-F. I had examined myself pretty thoroughly and discovered that I was unfit for military service. You’d think my word would be enough, wouldn’t you, since I was a doctor in good standing with my county medical society and with my local Better Business Bureau. But no, it wasn’t, and they sent this guy around just to make sure I really did have one leg amputated at the hip and was helplessly bedridden with incurable rheumatoid arthritis. Yossarian, we live in an age of distrust and deteriorating spiritual values. It’s a terrible thing,” Doc Daneeka protested in a voice quavering with strong emotion. “It’s a terrible thing when even the word of a licensed physician is suspected by the country he loves.”]
[“Every time another White Halfoat was born,” he continued, “the stock market turned bullish. Soon whole drilling crews were following us around with all their equipment just to get the jump on each other. Companies began to merge just so they could cut down on the number of people they had to assign to us. But the crowd in back of us kept growing. We never got a good night’s sleep. When we stopped, they stopped. When we moved, they moved, chuckwagons, bulldozers, derricks, generators. We were a walking business boom, and we began to receive invitations from some of the best hotels just for the amount of business we would drag into town with us. Some of those invitations were might generous, but we couldn’t accept any because we were Indians and all the best hotels that were inviting us wouldn’t accept Indians as guests. Racial prejudice is a terrible thing, Yossarian. It really is. It’s a terrible thing to treat a decent, loyal Indian like a nigger, kike, wop or spic.” Chief White Halfoat nodded slowly with conviction.]
[The nightmares appeared to Hungry Joe with celestial punctuality every single night he spent in the squadron throughout the whole harrowing ordeal when he was not flying combat missions and was waiting once again for the orders sending him home that never came. Impressionable men in the squadron like Dobbs and Captain Flume were so deeply disturbed by Hungry Joe’s shrieking nightmares that they would begin to have shrieking nightmares of their own, and the piercing obscenities they flung into the air every night from their separate places in the squadron rang against each other in the darkness romantically like the mating calls of songbirds with filthy minds.]
[It was a night of surprises for Appleby, who was as large as Yossarian and as strong and who swung at Yossarian as hard as he could with a punch that flooded Chief White Halfoat with such joyous excitement that he turned and busted Colonel Moodus in the nose with a punch that filled General Dreedle with such mellow gratification that he had Colonel Cathcart throw the chaplain out of the officers’ club and ordered Chief White Halfoat moved into Doc Daneeka’s tent, where he could be under a doctor’s care twenty-four hours a day and be kept in good enough physical condition to bust Colonel Moodus in the nose again whenever General Dreedle wanted him to. Sometimes General Dreedle made special trips down from Wing Headquarters with Colonel Moodus and his nurse just to have Chief White Halfoat bust his son-in-law in the nose.]
Now, to finish, a brief reflection that occured to me while I was waiting for the train this morning, and after I shook the word "disrupted" off my mind: Why do I keep saying "One day I will write something good" but that day never seems to come? I could come up with a lot of fair excuses, all of which could be contained in the very reasonable and honest statement "I don´t have the time right now". But the truth (the other truth) is, I might just not be a good witer after all. It might happen that I start writing and I turn to be a bad (even a crappy) writer. Whereas, as long as I haven´t tried yet, I´m a potential good writer.
So at the end it´s all about cats in boxes.
And now, let´s move on to the real subject of this posting which is, again, Catch-22. Let me give you the real title for the posting: "A stupid masterpiece".
As I keep reading, I wander about how incredibly stupidly brilliant the book is. From page 62 now, I still doubt that I will be able to finish it, but every single paragraph I read, I want to share in the blog. Even whole pages I want to share. It´s amazing. The language is absolutely not correct, neither it is the content of it, and no general plot has really started to unfold so far. It´s all about some Col. Something, Lt. Someone, names and more names and nicknames and short anecdotes and more anecdotes that lead one to the next and so on, in the middle of a war that puts the most insane of people together and makes them even more insane.
I will try to be very, very picky and restrictive about the fragments I share, but here´s a few of them that I hope you enjoy.
[“It was a godsend,” Doc Daneeka confessed solemnly. “Most of the other doctors were soon in the service, and things picked up overnight. The corner location really started paying off, and I soon found myself handling more patients than I could handle competently. I upped my kickback fee with those two drugstores. The beauty parlors were good for two, three abortions a week. Things couldn’t have been better, and then look what happened. They had to send a guy from the draft board around to look me over. I was Four-F. I had examined myself pretty thoroughly and discovered that I was unfit for military service. You’d think my word would be enough, wouldn’t you, since I was a doctor in good standing with my county medical society and with my local Better Business Bureau. But no, it wasn’t, and they sent this guy around just to make sure I really did have one leg amputated at the hip and was helplessly bedridden with incurable rheumatoid arthritis. Yossarian, we live in an age of distrust and deteriorating spiritual values. It’s a terrible thing,” Doc Daneeka protested in a voice quavering with strong emotion. “It’s a terrible thing when even the word of a licensed physician is suspected by the country he loves.”]
[“Every time another White Halfoat was born,” he continued, “the stock market turned bullish. Soon whole drilling crews were following us around with all their equipment just to get the jump on each other. Companies began to merge just so they could cut down on the number of people they had to assign to us. But the crowd in back of us kept growing. We never got a good night’s sleep. When we stopped, they stopped. When we moved, they moved, chuckwagons, bulldozers, derricks, generators. We were a walking business boom, and we began to receive invitations from some of the best hotels just for the amount of business we would drag into town with us. Some of those invitations were might generous, but we couldn’t accept any because we were Indians and all the best hotels that were inviting us wouldn’t accept Indians as guests. Racial prejudice is a terrible thing, Yossarian. It really is. It’s a terrible thing to treat a decent, loyal Indian like a nigger, kike, wop or spic.” Chief White Halfoat nodded slowly with conviction.]
[The nightmares appeared to Hungry Joe with celestial punctuality every single night he spent in the squadron throughout the whole harrowing ordeal when he was not flying combat missions and was waiting once again for the orders sending him home that never came. Impressionable men in the squadron like Dobbs and Captain Flume were so deeply disturbed by Hungry Joe’s shrieking nightmares that they would begin to have shrieking nightmares of their own, and the piercing obscenities they flung into the air every night from their separate places in the squadron rang against each other in the darkness romantically like the mating calls of songbirds with filthy minds.]
[It was a night of surprises for Appleby, who was as large as Yossarian and as strong and who swung at Yossarian as hard as he could with a punch that flooded Chief White Halfoat with such joyous excitement that he turned and busted Colonel Moodus in the nose with a punch that filled General Dreedle with such mellow gratification that he had Colonel Cathcart throw the chaplain out of the officers’ club and ordered Chief White Halfoat moved into Doc Daneeka’s tent, where he could be under a doctor’s care twenty-four hours a day and be kept in good enough physical condition to bust Colonel Moodus in the nose again whenever General Dreedle wanted him to. Sometimes General Dreedle made special trips down from Wing Headquarters with Colonel Moodus and his nurse just to have Chief White Halfoat bust his son-in-law in the nose.]
Now, to finish, a brief reflection that occured to me while I was waiting for the train this morning, and after I shook the word "disrupted" off my mind: Why do I keep saying "One day I will write something good" but that day never seems to come? I could come up with a lot of fair excuses, all of which could be contained in the very reasonable and honest statement "I don´t have the time right now". But the truth (the other truth) is, I might just not be a good witer after all. It might happen that I start writing and I turn to be a bad (even a crappy) writer. Whereas, as long as I haven´t tried yet, I´m a potential good writer.
So at the end it´s all about cats in boxes.
miércoles, 4 de febrero de 2015
Caught!
I'm reading a new book. New for me, I mean. And I want to share something.
I usually don't share parts of a book before finishing it, but with this one, Catch-22, I don't know... I'm liking it a lot, some paragraphs are just amazing, but it's not easy reading for me and I hate it but I'm afraid I might not finish it. And I'm telling you from page 36..., so yes, there's a real chance!
But I want to make this clear, if I don't finish it, it won't be because the book is not good enough, but because the reader isn't.
And now, the excerpts.
"In a way the C.I.D. man was pretty lucky, because outside the hospital the war was still going on. Men went mad and were rewarded with medals. All over the world, boys on every side of the bomb line were laying down their lives for what they had been told was their country, and no one seemed to mind, least of all the boys who were laying down their young lives."
"Actually, there were many officers' clubs that Yossarian had not helped build, but he was proudest of the one on Pianosa. It was a sturdy and complex monument to his powers of determination. Yossarian never went there to help until it was finished; then he went there often, so pleased was he with the large, fine, rambling shingled building. It was truly a splendid structure, and Yossarian throbbed with a mighty sense of accomplishment each time he gazed at it and reflected that none of the work that had gone into it was his."
"But there was no enthusiasm in Yossarian's group. In Yossarian's group there was only a mounting number of enlisted men and officers who found their way solemnly to Sergeant Towser several times a day to ask if the orders sending them home had come in. They were men who had finished their fifty missions. There were more of them now than when Yossarian had gone into the hospital, and they were still waiting. They worried and bit their nails. They were grostesque, like useless young men in a depression. They moved sideways, like crabs. They were waiting for the orders sending them home to safety to return from Twenty-seventh Air Force Headquarters in Italy, and while they waited they had nothing to do but worry and bite their nails and find their way solemnly to Sergeant Towser several times a day to ask if the order sending them home to safety had come."
I must say, not too often have I found so brilliant lines condensed in so very few pages!
So I really, really hope to have the strength, time and patience to finish it. I will let you know how it goes...
I usually don't share parts of a book before finishing it, but with this one, Catch-22, I don't know... I'm liking it a lot, some paragraphs are just amazing, but it's not easy reading for me and I hate it but I'm afraid I might not finish it. And I'm telling you from page 36..., so yes, there's a real chance!
But I want to make this clear, if I don't finish it, it won't be because the book is not good enough, but because the reader isn't.
And now, the excerpts.
"In a way the C.I.D. man was pretty lucky, because outside the hospital the war was still going on. Men went mad and were rewarded with medals. All over the world, boys on every side of the bomb line were laying down their lives for what they had been told was their country, and no one seemed to mind, least of all the boys who were laying down their young lives."
"Actually, there were many officers' clubs that Yossarian had not helped build, but he was proudest of the one on Pianosa. It was a sturdy and complex monument to his powers of determination. Yossarian never went there to help until it was finished; then he went there often, so pleased was he with the large, fine, rambling shingled building. It was truly a splendid structure, and Yossarian throbbed with a mighty sense of accomplishment each time he gazed at it and reflected that none of the work that had gone into it was his."
"But there was no enthusiasm in Yossarian's group. In Yossarian's group there was only a mounting number of enlisted men and officers who found their way solemnly to Sergeant Towser several times a day to ask if the orders sending them home had come in. They were men who had finished their fifty missions. There were more of them now than when Yossarian had gone into the hospital, and they were still waiting. They worried and bit their nails. They were grostesque, like useless young men in a depression. They moved sideways, like crabs. They were waiting for the orders sending them home to safety to return from Twenty-seventh Air Force Headquarters in Italy, and while they waited they had nothing to do but worry and bite their nails and find their way solemnly to Sergeant Towser several times a day to ask if the order sending them home to safety had come."
I must say, not too often have I found so brilliant lines condensed in so very few pages!
So I really, really hope to have the strength, time and patience to finish it. I will let you know how it goes...
jueves, 29 de enero de 2015
For my right to complain
Like I said some postings ago, I would like to write in defense of my right to complain.
Objectively, I am actually not the happiest person these days (or these months). But whenever someone asks how I am, I will say "I'm fine", "Not bad", "I can't complain".
I can't complain because I have a nice job, a nice family, good health, some very good friends and a comfortable life. I can waste a bit of money from time to time and still have enough to pay the rent, go out for dinner, go to the theater, travel, get some chocolate... I have literally no responsibilities other than myself, and even if I couldn't take care of myself, I would have good social support. I am relatively well educated, enjoy reading and even studying, which is great because both are things that don't require much physical effort or other people's intervention. I speak english, so I could potentially get along with many people from all over the world, and also travel to most destinations fairly safely. Comparatively, my life has always been easy. I have never known war or hunger. Even when my parents didn't have enough money to buy us new clothes when we were kids, they managed so that I never had a perception of scarcity. And economy is pretty good right now. Again, comparatively.
I can't complain because, if we draw a horizontal line that divided the world's population into the fortunate and the unfortunate, I would be, comparatively, scraping the top.
So, if I complain, it doesn't mean that I'm not grateful for the life I have. But it means that I know things could be even better. It means that I am aware of the aspects in my life that are not, comparatively, as good. And I am just pointing them out so I can make them better. Because, like I said, life is a succession of goals and achievements.
A few days ago someone thought I might use a self-help book. It's called "The glasses of happiness". I have only a few pages left.
In this book, the author tries to give me (because I'm the one reading it) a few tips on how to be happy. One of his main points is, "In order to be fine, all you need is food and drink. Everything else is bonus."
Well, I see how this maxim can work, but I don't exactly agree with it. Rather, I do, only I don't think that is the key for a happy life, but for a comfortable one. Which is quite a different thing. A comfortable life is the kind of life that passes by unnoticed while you content yourself with what it puts before you. And I'm reading the book, supposedly, because I want to be happy, and not just fine. Otherwise I would go for "The glasses of fineness".
Each person could probably give us a different definition of "happiness", while such thing most certainly does not exist as a permanent condition or state of mind. I wouldn't know how to define it, but if I had to, I would say it probably involves some effort from my side. Because, in order to be happy, I need to believe that I can, in some way, be better. And make it a goal. Otherwise, if I'm just fine with what I already got, what's the point of going on? I could just die right now, and I would die happy.
So, after all, maybe it's a good thing that happiness is not achievable.
Because unhappiness is precisely what allows us to hope and makes us keep moving towards something better.
Therefore I will keep complaining, from time to time.
* NOTE: "Happiness" is just a fake concept created by a society that had already achieved the goal of "surviving". So it all depends on your glasses.
Like Machado said, "The sea and the mountain change, as does the eye that beholds them."
Objectively, I am actually not the happiest person these days (or these months). But whenever someone asks how I am, I will say "I'm fine", "Not bad", "I can't complain".
I can't complain because I have a nice job, a nice family, good health, some very good friends and a comfortable life. I can waste a bit of money from time to time and still have enough to pay the rent, go out for dinner, go to the theater, travel, get some chocolate... I have literally no responsibilities other than myself, and even if I couldn't take care of myself, I would have good social support. I am relatively well educated, enjoy reading and even studying, which is great because both are things that don't require much physical effort or other people's intervention. I speak english, so I could potentially get along with many people from all over the world, and also travel to most destinations fairly safely. Comparatively, my life has always been easy. I have never known war or hunger. Even when my parents didn't have enough money to buy us new clothes when we were kids, they managed so that I never had a perception of scarcity. And economy is pretty good right now. Again, comparatively.
I can't complain because, if we draw a horizontal line that divided the world's population into the fortunate and the unfortunate, I would be, comparatively, scraping the top.
So, if I complain, it doesn't mean that I'm not grateful for the life I have. But it means that I know things could be even better. It means that I am aware of the aspects in my life that are not, comparatively, as good. And I am just pointing them out so I can make them better. Because, like I said, life is a succession of goals and achievements.
A few days ago someone thought I might use a self-help book. It's called "The glasses of happiness". I have only a few pages left.
In this book, the author tries to give me (because I'm the one reading it) a few tips on how to be happy. One of his main points is, "In order to be fine, all you need is food and drink. Everything else is bonus."
Well, I see how this maxim can work, but I don't exactly agree with it. Rather, I do, only I don't think that is the key for a happy life, but for a comfortable one. Which is quite a different thing. A comfortable life is the kind of life that passes by unnoticed while you content yourself with what it puts before you. And I'm reading the book, supposedly, because I want to be happy, and not just fine. Otherwise I would go for "The glasses of fineness".
Each person could probably give us a different definition of "happiness", while such thing most certainly does not exist as a permanent condition or state of mind. I wouldn't know how to define it, but if I had to, I would say it probably involves some effort from my side. Because, in order to be happy, I need to believe that I can, in some way, be better. And make it a goal. Otherwise, if I'm just fine with what I already got, what's the point of going on? I could just die right now, and I would die happy.
So, after all, maybe it's a good thing that happiness is not achievable.
Because unhappiness is precisely what allows us to hope and makes us keep moving towards something better.
Therefore I will keep complaining, from time to time.
* NOTE: "Happiness" is just a fake concept created by a society that had already achieved the goal of "surviving". So it all depends on your glasses.
Like Machado said, "The sea and the mountain change, as does the eye that beholds them."
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)