Responsibilites and Correspondents

I was talking to a documentary filmmaker / teacher today, about foreign correspondents. She was going to give a lecture on the subject, and wanted some useful tips. Foreign correspondents have a somewhat romantic air about them, they are there, in the face of danger, uncovering the truth about massacres, wars and genocides. When I read a newspaper, the words "your correspondent" always makes me want to grab my camera and my notebook and go to Somalia, or Bolivia, or Turkmenistan.

But there is also something troubling about foreign correspondents, as might also be the case with UN-personnel, aid workers and others, in that it is so easy to get numb. With all the mayhem around you, you might become indifferent, insensitive, brutal, or even racist. Not because you are a bad person, but maybe as a kind of survival instinct. Of course not all are afflicted in this way, but it is a possibility.

When you are doing something for to long, there is always the danger of losing the perspective needed, and not only for correspondents, it can happen to anyone. Unfortunately, this is an issue seldom discussed.

When writing my posts, I always feel that I should write about something more important than whether or not I have a cold. I should instead be writing about human rights abuses in Russia (of which there are plenty) or something like that. But that is of course silly, I can write about whatever I want. And I do. But the feeling still lingers on.

The Boy

Here is my latest poem:

See the boy
He’s scared and scarred

The tears have dried
The pain subsided

But the memories
The memories will never go away

It wasn’t always so
There were pleasant times

But they don’t even up
The last ugly years

The blows fell hard
The negligence was even worse

Now the father is gone
And the boy is alone

He battles on
The fight now with himself

A Cold, A Poem, and Love

I have a cold, my eyes are sensitive to light and my nose is a mess. The nose isn't that big a problem, but the eyes... I would like to spend all my time under a blanket in a dark room. But I can't. It makes me restless, so here I am.

What is there to write about? That North Korea shouldn't have nukes? Well, they shouldn't, but I'm not in the mood to argue now. I want to write about something else, about a poem I got yesterday. It was from a girl, and it was so sweet and loving it hasn't left me for a second since reading it. I was telling her the other day that I write poems, and she wanted to see them. After she had read some, she said that she wanted to write as well. She wrote three and I had no idea what to expect. But they were wonderful. And one of them were for me. Me. Fancy that.

Hugs, Dreams and a Nice Cup of Tea

Some mornings you wake up and feel that this is going to be a tiresome day. Today was such a day. I tried to do the best I could, and it went smoothly enough. But I needed a hug badly and fortunately the best hugger in town came to my rescue. It seems to me that there is always something or someone that will cheer you up, no matter where you are, or how bad things are.

Things are really heating up at work. Everything is changing, and next year everything will be different. It's time to seize the opportunity and take action. The question is of course what course of action to take. Get in deeper, or quit? It seems to me that there is always something or someone that will make things more complicated, no matter where you are, or how complicated things are.

If I may be permitted to dream a little (and I may, since I am the boss of this blog), I think that what I really would like to do more than anything else right now is move to Australia, and try to find work there. Maybe in Melbourne, or perhaps way out somewhere, on some camel farm or something.

Well, that'll have to wait, first I want my cup of tea.

Children, Violence and Award Winning Authors

I have been on a short trip, visiting one of my dearest friends. I had no phone, no computer, no work, no disturbances whatsoever. Well, her phone rang occasionally, but since we were at her place, that was only to be expected. We had the best time, walking in the woods and talking about everything, from sour milk to particle accelerators. Being with her is so soothing and comforting, I don't know what I would do without her. We spoke of children also, and whether I might consider having children with her. I was a bit surprised, but I answered truthfully, and shyly, yes.

Speaking of children, a recent study by the UN and WHO (here) shows that 80% of all children are being beaten by their parents. In 106 countries teachers are allowed to beat their students. In a separate study in Finland, one out of three thought it was OK to beat your child, and of those, 14% thought that it was OK to kick them, 54% to whip them and 13% thought it OK to hit the child with your fists. What's their problem? How can you justify beating up someone so much smaller than yourself? Whatever happened to that old saying, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"? There are plenty of grown-ups who are in the need of a good spanking, but very few would find that acceptable. I wonder why that is. I suppose it's because, behind all talk about setting boundaries and teaching discipline, the fact remains that most likely you beat your children because you can, because they can't strike back at you.

On a brighter, more literary note, Kiran Desai last week won the Man Booker Prize for her latest novel The Inheritance of Loss. Unfortunately I haven't read it yet, but her previous novel, also her first, Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard, I have read, and it's absolutely wonderful. I trust her second book is no less so and I hope she will have as prosperous a career as her mother Anita Desai, also a great writer and a favourite of mine.

I tell you more about The Inheritance of Loss when I've read it, now I'm of to bed with another book. Sweet dreams.

Married Women and Lonely Men in Autumn

That's me, the man in the title. Who the married woman is I'm not at liberty to disclose.

Autumn has, somewhat belatedly, while at the same time rather suddenly, arrived. I took the bus to work this morning, and at one point almost all passengers turned their heads to look out through the windows for a beautiful view of the city, in the glow of the early morning sun.

At work things have improved a bit, but there is not much joy in going there. I wish it was different, I wish I had the guts to quit and take a trip instead. I'm always more alive traveling than at home. I spent a few weeks in Japan in April and I was probably more at ease there than at any one time I've spent in my apartment since. That's most likely a bad thing, but still, that's how things are.

Soon the winner of the Nobel prize in literature will be announced. On Thursday. I wonder who it might me. Why not Cormac McCarthy?

In case you are wondering, I took the photograph of Mt Fuji.

Death and General Relativity

What is one supposed to say when a friend's father dies? I don't know, so I say as little as possible. I keep in the background, and offer my silent support.

This has been one of many difficult things that has happened the last week. By far the worst for her, but I have had other problems of my own. Mostly at work. I'm so fed up with all the stuff going on, or rather, not going on. I spend most of my time trying to fix machines that have broken down, or trying to get a little professionalism in to proceedings. It's like I'm fighting an uphill battle, and now I feel that enough is enough. I'm always to soft, all to seldom speaking my mind. Well, no more mister Nice Guy! The glows are off!

In the world of physics, scientist are still, after a good many decades, trying to find out how to reconcile the theory of general relativity with quantum mechanics. String theory for example has had it pretty rough lately. I will not give advise on that, but there is a similar problem in every day life, how to reconcile what you want, and need, to do with what you actually do.

Nurse Software and Sour Drinks

In The Economist latest Technology Quarterly there was an article about intelligent computer systems that screen your surroundings and control your information needs. Say for example that an incoming phone call is not relevant to you at the minute it arrives, then your phone either puts it on hold, or connect it to voice-mail. The same thing might happen when someone sends you an e-mail. If you're flying, driving a car or are a soldier in combat, under fire, the same thing will happen. Your equipment decides what information is necessary and/or suitable for you and disregards the rest. The time of day, the weather, the position of your body, the amount of sweat, the beating of your heart, these are some of the factors that are used to decide what to do with the call, the e-mail, the information.

I find it mesmerizing. How long will it be until we humans don't have to do anything at all, just sit in our gardens reading a good book while our machines do all the dirty work?

I have developed my own system. I turn of the phone, or my e-mail program, when I don't want to be disturbed. But sometimes it would be nice to have an intelligent system even in your private life. If you can't turn of the phone because some hot date is gonna call, but you don't want your boss to call and say that you must work, then it would be wonderful if the phone told your boss that you were unavailable, while putting the call from the date through the second it arrived. Oh, I know what "Q" would say about that: "It has not been perfected after years of hard work entirely for that purpose 007."

Tonight's drink was Passion Punch. It was OK. It looked great but it was too sour for my taste. C had similar objections.