Funfare for the Common Man

Just over a year ago, I started off my ‘Is there a ’best age’ to be in today’s world? How scary, really, does the future have to be?’ post with this quotation: “A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper.” (EB White) I haven’t had to resort to recycling old quotations because I’m short of ideas; rather, I want to stress how relevant that thought is right now. There are a lot of ideas on my mind that I’d like to share. But I can’t seem – despite what I’ve attempted to say before – to overcome this need to find ‘ideal conditions’ in which to write. ‘Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, the melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in the human situation.’ (Ways of Escape, Graham Greene) There, that’s better. Rewind back to March 2020 with me if you will – sorry, this brings back painful memories to the start of the pandemic. May...

Let me tell you a little bit about setting goals. Let me also tell you a little bit about process versus product. I dislike goals. I don’t have any, for the most part. But I’m content and generally feel like I am developing, both personally and professionally. I know this may seem to be a contrarian idea, but let me explain. Let’s look at this from the point of view of teaching a language. You’re learning English, for example. There’s no question that goal setting can increase your extrinsic motivation (you want to emigrate, get a particular exam result, you need it for a job opportunity, etc) but at the same time it may affect your intrinsic motivation: doing it for pleasure and enjoying the process. The reality is, there might be things we have to do in terms of goal setting but we shouldn’t lose sight of the beauty of doing things for pure pleasure if we feel it aids in our growth. There are dangers to having too narrow a focus so I always try to keep an open mind. Goals can often i...

Pieter Bruegel, The Hunters in the Snow, © Public Domain Don’t be in such a rush to welcome spring. For my Ukrainian friends and readers, it’s the start of spring. For most of the rest of us, we’re still about 3 weeks away, with the spring equinox on 20 March. What’s the hurry? This aeon.co article, which I turn to for solace once or twice a year, captures it best: Winter is a time of regeneration: we’ll miss it when it’s gone ‘Winter, for me, is a period of reflection and regeneration, of withdrawal, reminiscent of a time when humans were forced to be more malleable and responsive to the seasons.’ I can’t say I necessarily love winter. And no, I don’t particularly like snow, especially when living in a city, and especially in a city that does such a lousy job of clearing streets and pavements, and where deadly icicles dangle perilously from the rooftops, waiting to impale those who walk underneath. In short, where public safety is an afterthought. Never mind that: I like the cosin...

Deal with it. Accept it. That’s the reality. In all likelihood. ‘…as we barrel toward the first anniversary of the World Health Organization declaring the coronavirus a pandemic, the physical consequences of extended disruption, isolation, and stress have begun to make themselves known en masse, in doctors’ offices and telehealth video calls.’ Closing in on a year of this, with some kind of end in sight, hopefully, and we aren’t really sure of the ramifications as of yet. Everyone’s suffering. To some extent. Everyone’s struggling. To some extent. We’ve all got our issues and problems. But face it: your problems are inconsequential. We’re all wrapped up in our own solipsistic worlds. We’ve all got our own stuff to worry about. A month ago I came across yet another pandemic-themed article, from the Atlantic , entitled ‘Yes, the Pandemic Is Ruining Your Body :  Quarantine is turning you into a stiff, hunched-over, itchy, sore, headachy husk.’ You don’t need to read it. The title says...

(Given to me by one of my Latvian students, 2007) Or perhaps you’re better off burying your head in the sand and reading something else. At first, I wanted to provide an objective (as possible) take on current events. But I try to steer clear of politics on these pages.  And, get your 2021 off to an introspective, contemplative start with a few philosophical yet practical articles that have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with politics or pandemics.  Feel free to skip down to the reading list. Otherwise… My upbringing I grew up in democracies – Western Europe and the United States – during the Cold War era. I studied and learnt about various coups and insurrections in other parts of the world: the Middle East, Africa, Latin America, Asia, Europe even…but North America? Not so much. I studied history and politics at university and graduate school. Again, much of the same, but in more depth. Over the years, my students have asked me various questions about history and politic...

It’s my annual year in review. I think I’ve done one of these every year. Or most years. I don’t remember. In keeping with the spirit of the holiday season last couple of months, which have been oh-so-frenetic, this too will be a rushed, whirlwind recap of what was truly a raucous annus horribilis. And if that makes no sense, that’s because this year hardly made sense. The biggest positive to emerge from 2020? One of my most productive years of reading ever. But that also came at the cost of other things. When people ask ‘how do you find the time to read?’ I answer: ‘because I don’t do most of the stuff I should be doing instead of frittering away my time reading!’ Herewith 2020 in review. The books are a selection of my favourites and highlights. Mercifully, not all of them. January and February: months like any other, for the most part Grand Hotel , Vicki Baum; Flights , Olga Tokarczuk; Love, Poverty and War , Christopher Hitchens; Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation , Michae...

This is the seventh US Presidential election in which I’ve been an eligible voter. Regardless of the result, these are always raucous occasions. It all started in… 1994 : this was the first election where I was eligible to vote. I’d just turned 18 and was in my first semester at university. But for the life of me, I truly cannot remember whether I even voted, much to my shame. I think I did, but…I honestly can’t say. But it was all a bit anti-climactic for me anyway. Whether I voted or not, my first election wasn’t a Presidential one – it was merely the mid-term election, or for my non-American readers, the equivalent of a parliamentary election. Turnout at these is usually much lower. 1996 : the first time I can vote in an election, but I wasn’t even in the US to do so. I was studying abroad in London for the semester and voted by absentee ballot. And this was the start of a tradition of sorts, staying up all night because of the time difference. The election wasn’t close, so we knew ...