Individual Responsibility vs Social Reform

 Today, I mentioned to my granny that I was trying to fly as little as possible to reduce my carbon footprint. My uncle responded that that wouldn't make a difference, which started the well-worn discussion about the best way to tackle the climate crisis--to encourage individuals to reduce their carbon footprint or to push governments and states to take action. The easy answer is both--this is a battle that will have to be fought on many fronts, etc. etc. But, let's go over the arguments for either. The doctrine of individual responsibility has  a murky history as it was propagated by oil majors to obfuscate their own role in the climate crisis. From a tactical perspective, pushing a doctrine of individual responsibility can open the door to charges of hypocrisy from bad-faith actors as almost no one can lead a carbon-free lifestyle in the today's world. At the same time, there is no chance that the world can support the current ecological footprint of our class if everyone in the world had our class' standard of living. And, surely, we cannot advocate for some (actually a lot) of people to lead less comfortable lives than us. That is not a morally sound position. So, a non-sanctimonious approach to individual responsibility is that one is simply preparing for a substantially less comfortable low-carbon future. Also, if one spurns individual responsibility, surely it becomes difficult to argue that people should stop flying in private jets? Why should filthy-rich individuals not be exempt from individual responsibility for the climate crisis? However, I do feel its not simply that we should do both individual actions and agitate for systemic change. Its that we cannot do one without the other. The consumption decisions of individuals  in aggregate drive the capitalist engine, but individual actions might not add but not quickly enough to cause systemic change by itself. But, creating a critical mass of people agitating for systemic change that is not eco-fascistic requires people to acknowledge that climate change affects people to different degrees as individuals and that the biggest polluters will have to make the biggest sacrifices. Creating a low-carbon world would entail a radical reimagining of our wants and needs (and the line in between) as individuals. 

Airport blog Dec 2023

 As per tradition, another blog as I wait for a flight to the airport. The past week has been a bit of a blur even though it does not feel like I did all that much. I had a job application to finish, interviews to fix (which I didn't manage to do), and a bad cold to contend with, even as I wrapped up teaching for the semester. I also didn't participate in any Palestine activism, partly because of my cold, partly because my mind was occupied with this stuff. But, I did spend a lot of time on Twitter getting worked up about events in Gaza. Since India sharply swung rightward, it has been a reliable fount of bad news on the political front. For the past two months, India has been supplanted by Palestine. Now, for the next five weeks, I imagine Palestine won't be uppermost on my mind. The struggle for a free Palestine, and all it symbolizes for people of, from and for the Global South, will be a long one and I look forward to rejoining it when I return to the UK in January. But, right now I am looking forward to a break from it. 

Irate Student At Office Hours

 I had an unpleasant exchange with a student in my office hours today. He was unhappy with his mark on a recent assignment and two of his friends and his mother agreed that he deserved a higher mark. I tried explaining my feedback to him, but he wasn't convinced. The conversation became a bit heated, but I managed to just about keep my cool. We were going around in circles, and I had a tough time getting off the call. He later wrote to me apologizing for the tone of our call and asking for guidance on how to appeal his grade while also seeking advice on how to do better for his next assignment. It just occurred to me how bizarre that is. Why seek the advice of someone whose academic judgement you don't trust? Maybe he jsut wanted me to put some advice in writing that he could brandish if his mark on the next assignment didn't satisfy him. After the exchange, I was a bit shaken so I wrote to a senior colleague asking for a second opinion on the assignment. I was confident that the assignment didn't deserve more than 2-3 marks more at best, and I would have increased the grade if my colleague suggested it. No one likes being bullied into raining marks, but beyond a point I can't be arsed. The colleague replied that it was impossible to second mark every and if I was confident in my grade I should leave it be. So, I decided to leave the student's email unreplied. And, I am glad to report that I don't feel as shaken by the incident as I expected. 

Double trouble

When I got home yesterday and turned the light switch on, nothing happened. My throat had been itching all day and I was looking forward to a peaceful evening. I mentally prepared myself to go early to bed as without power on a winter night, there is absolutely nothing you can do. Luckily, it was a minor problem which got resolved within 30 minutes. Today, with my throat still feeling scratchy, I was looking forward to an early evening after meeting some people over drinks. And, as I and another person from the group got on out cycles, I discovered that my front tire was flat. Not a good day for a flat tire, and home would be at least a 90 min walk away on a cold evening. I toyed with taking the punctured tire on the bus with me, and leaving my bike behind, but that would mean another trek tomorrow morning. So, I decided to op my earphones and drag my bike all the way home. The not-so-good thing about walking your puncture bike on a cycle path is watching cyclists with intact tires whizz by you. But, today that was not the only sight. A pair of runners overtook me and I saw that they were tied to each other by their wrists. Shortly, another similarly tethered pair overtook me and I saw that one of them had 'blind runner' and the other had 'Guide runner' written on their backs. That sight filled me with a warm glow. Its wasn't just seeing someone worse off than me on a bad day. It was seeing someone worse off living their best life. As someone born with poor eyesight, losing my eyesight has always been one of my biggest fears. SO, it felt good to know that even if I lose my eyesight, it needn't stop me from running. 

Poor Student Feedback

 I have been asking my unit directors to share student feedback in the hopes that I find some positive comments that I could include in a job app. Very few comments mention me by name, and there were some mildly positive comments. But, there was one that was decidedly not so--it said that my "teaching and presentation style were very poor and difficult to engage with". Ouch! I definitely won't be including that one. But, it does sting because this is the first time getting such a poor comment about my teaching. I don't consider myself a great teacher, and to be honest, for reasons that I won't be getting into right now, I haven't felt very motivated towards my teaching or research over the past few years. But, I have always thought of myself as an above-average teacher, even in my low-motivation phase. And, the bit about presentation hurts particularly badly since I am a former journalist and supposed to be a great presentation. In my defense, the unit that invited this comment, is not in my area of research, and I didn't get much guidance from the lecturer when creating the lecture content. I was not very satisfied with the lecture content, but couldn't be arsed to change it for the second year that I taught it. The good news is my low-motivation phase appears to be ending, and everyone needs a wake-up call from time to time. I have been coasting and half-arsing in this job for a while now, and eventually one has to buck up or find something else to do. I have decided to stick with this profession and buck up. 

The Openness of Ambivalence

 I read a piece so good today, that I am struggling to decide what to quote from it. Correction: I listened to the author reading out her piece. The piece was a tribute to the author, James Baldwin, and talks about the centrality of ambivalence in both his non-fictional and fiction characters. It goes on to talk about the author's own maturing as a writer, and her recognition of the importance of ambivalence. The dictionary definition of ambivalence is the state of having mixed feelings or contradictory ideas about something or someone. It is most decidedly not fence-sitting or the inability to make up ones' mind. It is an innate skepticism towards grand ideas, whether one's own or others, and grand persons, whether oneself or others. An inability to be sold completely on anything or anyone and a limitless appetite for criticism of oneself and others. It can often be mistaken for negativity, cynicism or grouchiness. If not channeled into writing or other forms of self-expression, it can be harmful for one's mental well-being. The reason the piece chimed with me is I feel like I have the sensibility of a writer, even though I don't have a writer's talent. And, the core of that sensibility is ambivalence, the inability to lash myself to the mast of any grand idea or ideology. I have often wish I could find a cause to sink myself in and find people whose belief is as strong as mine to befriend/romance. But, that has not happened, and is unlikely to happen. If I self-identify as being ambivalent, I cannot take any pronouncements on my character as full or final. Maybe, in the future, I will find a cause to dive in. I am not holding my breath, though. 

Weekly Blog

(Apologies in advance for a very navel-gazey blog )And, just like that my blog has turned into a weekly. My past few entries have all been a week apart, and all written on Sunday. The truth is that with events in Gaza occupying so much mindspace, there is little room left for musing about life. I have no expert analysis to offer, and there is not catharsis to be gained from writing about how the genocide makes me feel. As I wrote last week, I have managed to put some fences around the issue in my mind (if I knew anyone affected that wouldn't be possible), but the real estate that the fence surrounds is still pretty large. My past few entries have been about my role in the protest, and I have nothing new to say about that. So, I'm in a situation where I don't have anything to say on Gaza, or about anything else. 

Fences

 To limit my time on Twitter, I have an online timer downloaded to my browser which blocks the site after it runs out. Every day since Oct. 7, I have been by-passing the timer by logging on to Twitter through the Incognito mode no my browser (Yes, Incognito mode has other uses, apart from facilitating porn-watching). Today, for the first time, I respected the timer. The situation in Gaza remains catastrophic. Israel's aerial bombardment hasn't stopped, and its ground invasion is proving bloody for both sides. Even once the bombardment stops, all signs point to a bloody quagmire in Gaza and the West Bank that my last months if not years. I wrote this blog nearly a month ago about how this struggle is going to be a long haul, and the need to pace myself and get on with life while continuing to participate in the protests. I finally feel like my heart is where my head was a month ago. The situation in Gaza continues to be foremost in my thoughts, but I feel like I have managed to put a fence around it to stop it from overwhelming me. Yes, I plan to be as active as I have been, but the big change will be cutting down on how much headspace I give this issue in the rest of my time. A part of this is down to me now having a set of concrete deadlines (job application, prep for trip to India) as opposed to the more open-ended timeline of writing academic papers. But, I suppose that I also needed to come to terms with the events since Oct. 7, which were unprecedented in so many ways that even someone like me who doesn't know any Israelis or Palestinians personally and who is not prone to activism found myself engulfed in them. Another example of time being the best salve. 

Protest Fatigue

 Yesterday was the big march in London. After March no. 3, I had written about how the protests had started to feel performative. But, skipping this march wasn't an option after the Home Secretary called us hate marchers, and incited the far-right against us. I realise that women and children don't need men to protect them, and, if anything, yobs get provoked by the presence of men on the other side. In hairy situations, women step in to protect their men from other violent men. But, I would have felt like a wuss if I had sat this one out. I am glad I went, and there was no trouble from the fash, but it was a draining experience. Maybe, it was accumulated fatigue from all the marches I have been to over the past four weeks. Maybe it was the size of the crowd and the fact that we were crawling along. But, I don't think I am going to go for the next march in London. Spending six hours on a coach to march for less than five hours requires a level of commitment to the cause that is difficult to sustain ( at least for me). 

Leafletting and Leading Chants

My activism has progressed to the next level. On Friday evening, I handed out flyers in Bristol city centre for Satruday's march. I was prepared for some pushback from Zionists, but barely got any. A young chap said Fuck You, but so softly that he probably meant only his companion to hear it, and they both burst out laughing. Another man refused a leaflet, explaining almost apologetically that he was Israeli. Many people took a leaflet willingly, some simply ignored me, and others declined politely, Being an activist requires having or building a thick skin and a lot of patience with people. I didn't think I had either attributes (although I am patient with my students). 

The next day was the bike ride, which was great. A bike ride allows you to cover a lot of distance, and is a different visual spectacle compared to a march. The response was overwhelmingly positive, except for a few irate drivers. But, you never know whether they are annoyed at you for being pro-Palestinian or blocking traffic. I also led chants for the first time in my life, and made all the associated rookie mistakes. I went too loud, too early and soon found myself croaking. A friend who is a veteran of protests said the trick is to chant from the stomach rather than the throat, whatever that means. When you are leading a chant, you are always afraid that no one else will take up that chant, and make you look like a fool. It helps if you pick a moment when the chanting has slowed down and don't try to compete with other leaders.

WW2 Films

Ever since the conflict began, I have been struggling to find books or TV to distract me. after a lot of scrolling, I found a WW2 documentary that serializes the most important events. I watched the episode on the siege of Stalingrad, and wasn't pleasantly surprised to see that it did not paint Russian officers as nasty brutes with no concerns for their own soldiers, as many Hollywood movies do. I then watched the other episodes, starting from the Nazi Blitzkreig and up to the fire-bombing of Dresden. The echoes with today's situation were unmistakable, with the difference being that Churchill apparently shed tears at the scale of civilian deaths, something which Western leaders today are steadfastly avoiding. I realise I sound incredibly self-involved, but I can't help thinking about what drew me to this docu series at this point in time. To be reminded that the world did not stop turning even after a war that was exponentially larger than any we have seen before or since? 

Performativity and Protest

I have been to six protest for Palestine in London and Bristol in the past three weeks. Before the first protest, I wrote how it felt more meaningful to protest because the government was intimidating protestors, especially immigrants. I found the sense of solidarity that comes from marching with hundreds and thousands of people empowering. That has not been the case in the past two protests. To be sure, the point of a protest is not to improve your own  feel good about oneself, so I find it a bit self-centered to point this out. But, the protests are starting to feel a bit performative, now that there is no danger of them being banned. I saw on social media some people calling for an escalation of tactics beyond point A to point B marches. Sisters Uncut, a feminist group, occupied Waterloo station for a few hours before being threatened with arrest. Of course, to engage in direct action, you need to be prepared to be arrested, and all the hassle that comes if you are charged. I don't agree with all Just Stop Oil's actions, but I respect them for putting themselves in the rifle sights of a viciously right-wing Tory government and a hostile judiciary. Even if I was a citizen, I don't think I would be willing to get arrested. So, I find myself dissatisfied with the current way in which I am expressing dissent, while also unwilling to do anything more extreme. And, surely, I am not the only one feeling that way.

Clocks Go Back 2023

 The clocks went back today, and since some traditions are not meant to be broken, I did my cozy winter yoga session, and this blog will look back to the time the clocks changed in the spring. With regular blogging, it is easy to get caught in there here and the now, and periodically looking back over a longer period brings some much-needed perspective. The overarching theme of my spring post was that life had gotten much better compared to 2020 and 2021. And, the improvements continue. No, I didn't get the job I was gunning for, but other than that, there is not much to complain about. I went to South Asia in May and had an amazing trek in Nepal. This summer was my first without an unfinished PhD weighing me down. While I beat myself up a bit over not being too productive on the research front, I eventually accepted that it would be a slow summer. My parents visited over the summer, I took up trail-running, and I have also discovered the long-hidden activist bone in my body. I also had therapy, which helped bring some clarity as to the steps that I should take on both the professional and personal front. All in all, it was a good seven months. 

Spoke-Word Poetry Evening

 I went for my second-ever spoken-word poetry evening last Saturday, after the march for Palestine in London. The first was nearly four years ago, on the night before the 2019 general election in the UK, which I wrote about here. I, in my ignorance of British politics, was expecting a solid performance from Corbyn. All the poems that day spoke to the moment, filled us with hope, lifted us. A few hours later, the results of the exit polls would push us into a despair, but that was not the fault of the poets or their stunning poems. 

However, last Saturday was a disappointment and I am still trying to put my finger on what put me off. I felt the poems were too navel-gazey and not deserving of the majority white audience's rapturous applause (all the poets were people of colour). I am aware that most art involves navel-gazing, which is giving form to the artist's own feelings or life experiences. But, good art gives form to truths buried deep inside us which we can sense, but cannot articulate.  I am aware that I should not be too harsh. I am not a poetry afficionado at all, and maybe I was just too tired that day. In times like these, it is the easiest thing in the world to take sanctimonious positions about how other people should respond to the crisis. The poems didn't speak to the moment because they were not written for the moment. Writing cannot be a public service, and artists have to eat too. They cannot conjure up art at short notice to respond to what is happening in the world, and they should be cut some slack if the read from their published books. But, as I told my communicating economics class, the reader/listener does not owe you their attention 

Long Haul

 It has been two weeks since Hamas attacked Israel and Israel began pounding Gaza. I have been to three protests in that time, two in London and one at the university. After yesterday's protest, it struck me that this is going to be a long haul and also that I am going to be in it for the long haul. As a single, able-bodied person with no caring responsibilities the choice to step up is an easy one. Unless I have any pressing commitments over the weekend (and I usually don't) I am going to take the coach to London to protest. I am going to try not to schedule stuff on protest days. Just showing up to be counted as one of the hundreds of thousands feels like one of the few antidotes to perpetual hopelessness and despair. But, I also realise that if I am going to be in it for the long haul, I am going to have to integrate it into my life better. Spend less time doom-scrolling on Twitter and more time doing something productive for the Palestinian cause or for myself. Its not like I dropped everything in the past two weeks. Its the middle of the teaching semester, and I have also managed to keep up with exercise and trail running. But the situation in Palestine has occupied most of my waking thoughts, which is not good for my mental well-being. There is also the matter of improving my job prospects by trying to get papers published and then finding a job. There is no point in beating myself up over the time I have already wasted in the past two weeks. Everything about the last two evenings has been precedented--the attack, the retaliation, the mobilization in response to the retaliation. But I need to get used to the extraordinariness of this topic and stop giving it so much headspace. Try to publish some papers or find a job, both for my personal and professional sakes.. 

Speed-Friending

 I attended at staff speed-friending event at uni yesterday. Before the event, I was not feeling very social, what with the state of the world and all. But, I'm glad I went, if nothing else to take my mind off Gaza. The idea was we had four minutes to speak to a person before moving to the next one. It was as exhausting as it sounds. Four minutes is not enough time to scope out if there is platonic potential.  Unless you have a niche passion that the other person shares, and you both revel in the discovery, you spend a few minutes just covering the bases. What do you do at uni, how long have you been in Bristol, etc. hen you are speaking to a stranger, all talk is small talk as you both gauge each other's boundaries and preferences. What sort of jokes will/won't land with this person? Can I mention my political leanings. With some people you instantly discover a connection, but with most friendships it is a slow burn. I wouldn't be friends with most of my friends if we just had  four minutes to decide. I often look back and am amazed by the gulf between my initial perceptions of some friends and how I see them now. 

With speed-friending the stakes are also lower, and one wouldn't bother pursuing someone unless you got along on like a house on fire in the four minutes you talked. But, I still do think speed dating could work, even if speed-friending is tedious. Four minutes is enough time to gauge attraction based on looks and personality. And, since dating is higher stakes, one is more willing to give people another chance, since "what if they are the one?". 

Falling Out over Political Views

 I fell out with an acquaintance today over our differing views on Palestine ( he doesn't have a link to this blog). There was little prospect of a roaring friendship with him, so I am not disappointed. I do appreciate I have strong views about Palestine, but I am open to listening other points of view. With acquaintances especially, I am also open to severing ties if my views are a deal-breaker to the other person. Ties can be severed respectfully and without drama. Life is too short to spend interacting with people who make you angry. That said, telling an acquaintance that you would rather not meet again makes it sound like you are ending things with a date, which sounds a bit naff? In this case, I was fortunate that the acquaintance ended things, because I was getting tired of the conversation. I also like the phrase he used "I thinks it best to step back from this. Thanks". I interpreted this as him wanting to end our acquaintanceship, and I quickly acquiesced. It is only later that I realised that he may have meant that he wanted to step back from the conversation. Either way, its too late now. 

Feeling Fortified

I feel fortified after participating in the march for Palestine in London today. The past week has been an endless litany of distressing news coming out of the Middle East. Western governments have taken unconscionably immoral positions and are doing the best to stifle protest. But, today, surrounded by like-minded people who had shrugged of the government's clumsy threats and turned up in huge numbers.  I felt happy and hopeful for the first time in days. Despite our anger at Israel's treatment of Gaza, the vibe was love, not hate, and there were plenty of smiles. it turns out that more than a hundred thousand people attended, with the Guardian writing that most attended had ignored the home secretary's warning that displaying the Palestinian flag may be illegal. Today, I didn't feel powerless and frustrated. To be sure, we may not be able to change the UK government's policy, which usually mirrors the US government. After all, one million march against the invasion of Iraq in 2003 had not been able to stop it. But, the mega-marches seared into the public record the fact that that was  deeply unpopular and tarnished Blair's legacy. And, it radicalized a generation of young people who would never again look at Britain as a benevolent empire. Who knows what positive developments the current protest will set into motion?

Do Whatever Makes You Sleep Better At Night

This week, I struggled to focus on work because of the news coming out of Israel and Gaza. So, deciding to travel to London to attend a pro-Palestine protest was a no-brainer for me. After the Hamas' horrifying strike on Saturday, no one with any familiarity with the current Israeli government would have had any doubt that they would respond mercilessly and disproportionately. What caught many of us by surprise was the vigorous and unconditional support they got from Western governments and the media. It felt like if white or white-adjacent lives were at stake, there was no limit on the number of innocent brown or black lives that could be sacrificed. Even if the sacrifice has no bearing on the outcome for the hostages, and is purely ritualistic. 

I spread the message of the protest, but got a less-than-enthusiastic response.  I am in no position to judge anyone, since I haven't participated in any of the lecturers' union strikes. One of my mottos is do whatever makes you feel better at night, and attending this protest will definitely help me sleep better. 

France and Germany have already outlawed pro-Palestine protest (Liberte, Equalite and Fraternite is for white people only) and I am sure the UK government is considering doing the same. A news report said might expel migrants who express support for Hamas and outlaw the display of the Palestinian flag. When I heard this it strengthened my resolve to join the protest. The only way to prevent the space for dissent from shrinking is to put more bodies in it. I don't enjoy the performative element of protesting. When the stakes are higher, when you are putting yourself at risk by protesting, it feels much more meaningful. And, any political action, whether it is to prevent climate action or stopping genocide, has to be fought on the streets, and has to be prepared to face state violence. As Marx said, "Philosophers have hitherto only interpreted the world in various ways. The point, however, is to change it."

Israel and Gaza

 I spent most of this weekend on Twitter, following the events in Israel and Gaza. There are so many things I could write about: the unforgivable double standards of the West, the silence of some self-proclaimed decolonial scholars, how social media becomes a rabbit hole during big events, how it pushes you into an impotent rage, which can only be quelled by consuming more content and becoming angrier. How you almost obsessively start checking Twitter accounts of the people you follow to see which side of the issue they stand on. Maybe because I am tired, but I feel like there is nothing more to say on any of these issues. Am unprecedented event happened, and I was hooked by it this weekend, end of story. Such a large part of being wise seems to involve learning to not beat yourself up about stuff, large and small, and move on. We continually find new ways to beat ourselves up, so we must continually learn how not to. 

Trail Running Update

I now have a better sense of what to expect after a long trail run. If its a rough run the exhaustion hits you immediately after you stop. After smoother runs, you ride the endorphin wave for an hour or so before exhaustion sets in, usually after you are showered and fed. This week's 10 mile run felt much easier than last week's slightly shorter but faster run. At first, I thought it was because one member of the group (not me!) was slowing us down. But, when I looked at Strava after the run, we were just 10 seconds/km off last week's pace, which the leader said was pacier-than-usual because we followed a shorter route. So, it turns out I just had fresher legs. Or, that I am slowly getting used to trail running. Talking to others, I realised how ridiculous my expectations were. It turns out everyone struggles to improve their times, and recovery time is something you build into your trail running routine. On this week's run, I spoke toa guy who had run a 50km race in the Alps, and he said this was the first time in nearly four weeks that he was feeling like himself again. He said it is better to do shorter runs more frequently than longer runs that knock you out for a few days. All in all, I feel much better about trail running now. I suppose its a combination of me having gotten stronger and learning to take it a bit easy. In the past couple of runs, I have managed to hit the Zone--the near-meditative state where you feel completely at ease with your mind and your body. I feel similarly when I do a yoga with Adrienne session. One can't stay in the Zone for long--something always happens to bring you out of the trance. But, the afterglow of the Zone lingers.

Being Overly Critical

Being of a critical bent of mind is unambiguously a good thing, as long as you can be equally critical of your own work, and accept others' criticism of your work with good grace. Years of working as a journalist has sharpened my bull-shit meter, and I'm instinctively skeptical of new claims and ideas. Yes, picking holes in an idea or an argument is easy, coming up with new ideas or arguments much less so. That said, coming up with new ideas is a long process of picking and patching holes, until the end product has more flesh than holes. It is often the manner rather than content of criticism that causes it not to go down well. Today, I was guilty of picking holes in a new friend's ideas, and he was none too pleased about it. I thought I had gotten better at tempering my criticism, but it turns out I still slip up. To remind myself of what it feels like to be criticised, I want back to my last experience of criticism that felt like a sock on the jaw(chronicled here and here). Reading the blogs was a humbling experience. 

On Boundaries

Someone I follow on Instagram wrote a few weeks ago; "So much of the suffering I see in my friends and clients comes from not asserting their needs and boundaries strongly enough. So much of my own suffering has come from asserting my needs and boundaries too strongly. Finding the sweet spot is the key". Yes, the elusive sweet spot. It has become fashionable to talk about how one must assert their boundaries. Much less about how boundaries asserted too strongly can hurt relationships. And, also that boundaries are not set in stone, and one must be open to having them shift. At least the faint boundaries, not the well-defined ones. I was in a situation where I discovered I had boundaries after they were crossed. I committed to something that I didn't feel comfortable committing to, and I didn't want to row back on my commitment for fear of not just appearing trustworthy but feeling trustworthy. Some would say that's the classic guilt response of someone who is conflict-averse and not used to asserting their boundaries. But, here is the thing. Sometimes, we have boundaries that we wouldn't want to encounter in the people we interact with. I clearly felt so, in this instance. If I was in the same situation as the person who stepped over my boundaries, I wouldn't want the opposite person to feel the way I do. Are our boundaries sacrosanct? Sometimes the answer to the question of "Why is this bothering me so much?" is not validate the feeling as legitimate, but to make a conscious decision not to let it bother you so much.

Too Personal

 I was a very unprolific blogger in 2022, because I suddenly realised that my blog had become too much like a personal diary. I was embarrassed and it took me a while to get back to blogging even semi-regularly. Even now, I am not as prolific as I was pre-2022. I have previously compared my barely-read blog to singing in an open field with no one around vs singing in your head, which is akin to a personal diary. But, today's post is about whether or how much a blog like mine should be personal. It is a fact that over time, I feel more comfortable sharing more details about my life on this blog. But, the question is, as a blogger, do you owe anything to your readers, however few there may be? Shouldn't people who write on life (for lack of a more precise term of description) be open to baring at least a bit of their soul to their readers? Writers of fiction have the imagination and creativity to build characters and storylines that draw on their own lives, but go far beyond mere autobiography. What about those of us not similarly blessed? Do we owe it to our readers to be new or original? We may have depersonalised pearls of pure wisdom to drop from time to time, but few people are that wise. Don't we need to draw on our personal lives to keep our writing interesting, if not for anyone else than for ourselves when we go back and read our writing? Again, I don't mean simply using a blog as a confessional. I mean using personal experience as a starting point to at least try to say something profound. 

Healthy Giving

 Some of us are more generous with our time, money and effort than others. But, there is no such thing as unconditional giving, except maybe between blood relations. Even if the recipients of our generosity do not have the means to reciprocate, most of us expect at least a minimum level of gratitude, or at least acknowledgement. It is easy to swing between feeling overly generous and resentful if we feel our generosity is not acknowledged. Or, hold the recipient of our over-generosity to unrealistic standards of behaviour, not just in terms of showing gratitude but also more mundane stuff, like their opinions, for instance. But, the point is that feelings of generosity towards someone can wax and wane, just as feelings of annoyance or guilt or any other feeling, for that matter. We may promise someone something at the peak of our generosity cycle, and then regret it when we are in the trough. I am realising that it is better not to be impulsive with offers of help when someone is talking about their problems. Best to hear them out, think and then offer to help. Or not. Someone telling you about their problems is not always a plea for help. It is sometimes just a plea for commiseration. And, even if it is a plea for help, you don't have to answer every plea. 

Hypothesis Testing

I got back from the conference in Leeds this afternoon. The purpose of this trip was to test out a hypothesis, and that purpose was achieved. I am not comfortable blogging about the hypothesis yet, but in the coming days, weeks and months it will sneak into my blog. My previous blog was about asking others, but this trip was about asking questions of myself. I still hold that a negative response is better than no response, because a deferred response is seldom a positive one. It is mostly negative responses that are deferred. This trip mainly confirmed what I knew in my heart, but it was necessary. 

Living In Times of Epochal Change

 I don't do book reviews, because even if I had the talent, it would need a lot of honing before I could write reviews of an acceptable standard. But, this is more of a book rave than a review. Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver is based around an derelict house in New Jersey and the narrative alternates between the earliest and the present-day inhabitants. It deals with the two issues that touch the lives of most young people living in the West: the climate crisis and the housing crisis. It is also offers some advice for living in times of epochal change, when as, Gramsci said "the old world is dying and the new world is struggling to be born. yes, now is the time of monsters". Many young people feel like a successful and fulfilling life as defined by the old rules is both unachievable and undesirable. Having a house by age 30 is neigh impossible without parental help, dating apps make the search for a partner a fraught exercise, bringing kids into this world riven by  climate change and a right-wing resurgence feels scary, and material success simply means a larger carbon footprint and the guilt associated with it. To put it shortly, the fear of the being unhoused or badly housed and climate change are the two things that are mostly likely keeping young, left-leaning people up at night. The first plotline is set in the late 19th century when Darwin's theory of evolution was threatening to upend centuries of received dogma about the origins of humans. It was a scary and exhilarating time for Darwin's disciples and some of them had to pay for their beliefs with their jobs. Our own times seem more scary and less exhilarating but the common theme is we too are living in times of epochal change. The advice: don't be afraid to throw away the old rules even if most people around you seem to be unfazed by the state of the world and continue to play according to the old rule book. Reset you expectations of having a home that is your castle and rethink what it means to be sheltered. I will leave you with one exchange between the two main characters: Without a roof over your head, it kind of feels like you might die." "Yeah, but you might not. For sure you wont' find your way out of the mess if you keep picking up the bricks and stuffing them in your pockets. What you have to do is to look for the blue sky." 

 

Ask, and You Shall Receive

 I never thought I would quote someone from Instagram, but here goes: "Ask, and you shall receive. At the very least, you shall receive an answer (no response is sometimes an answer too). If you never ask, you shall never know. A missed opportunity tight there. If there is something on your mind, if you have a lingering question or request, if you would like for support - GO FOR IT." Nothing very profound here, but it was delivered by an inspirational person: an Arab woman who took up mountaineering just a few years ago and has already climbed Everest and K2, and lost her father a few years ago. The quote struck a cord with me, and I found myself mouthing it when I was trying to decide to ask for something. There are many reasons one may not want to ask for what one wants or needs--embarrassment, pride, fear of rejection, loss of privacy, ridicule. I don't want to dismiss any of these reasons as irrational. Asking for something is an admission of need or vulnerability, which we may not be comfortable making to everyone or anyone. And, the situation, the timing and the manner of asking are all important. As is the ability to cope with an unfavourable response with grace and good cheer. But, on balance, I would say, asking, rather than keeping mum is the better strategy. Being able to communicate your needs makes it easier to admit that you need something in the first place. And, asking for something puts the onus on the universe for whatever happens next. At least, you don't keep kicking yourself for not asking until its too late. And, this piece of advice has served me well on the past few occasions. I have had a few favourable responses, some neutral, some unfavourable, but not a single time have I regretted asking.

Trail Running

Last evening, I went for my second-ever group trail run, and it was tough going.  It was a pretty hot day, and I had also not fully recovered from my trail run on Saturday morning. I knew I was running after a two-week break so if I pushed myself, I would bear the consequences. And, I did. 12 kms with a sizeable ascent was not a good idea, and I can't remember the last time I felt so pooped. I was lucky I didn't have other plans for the weekend, because I may have had to drop them. For a long time now, I have known that I am someone who tends to push themselves too much physically and that I need to do a better job of listening to my body. I have struggled with a unstable shoulder for years now, not least because I push myself too much, which puts me back to square one, which frustrates me further, and the cycle continues. Now, I have resumed a routine that I found helpful in the past, up to the point where I overdid it. Now, I'm taking my time with the routine and enjoying it more. And, enjoyment is the point of it. I took up trail-running because I did some fabulous trail runs on a recent holiday. Think running through forests, green meadows and mist-soaked hills with no soul in sight and the wind in my face. Enough physical exertion to get the dopamines going, but not so much that I couldn't enjoy my surroundings. The past few trail runs in Bristol have not been enjoyable because I have approached them as tasks to be conquered. It doesn't help that having Strava on your phone pushes you to go faster. So, I guess I need to pace myself, both during runs and in choosing runs. My next run is going to be a pretty short run, I reckon. 

Listening To Your Own Advice

 I have written before about how giving advice mostly entails telling people what they already know, but that, in itself, doesn't make it pointless. (Unsolicited advice is a whole another ballgame though, and not what I am going to talk about today). Sometimes people know the right course of action or inaction, but they need to hear it from someone they trust. But, today's post is about listening to your own advice. A friend who is going through a rough path messaged me the other day,. They feel like they have lost their zest for life and their motivation  to do well in their job, which requires a lot of creativity. My advice to them was that they are smart, capable, and these are exceptional circumstances that won't last. Basically, to give themselves some time to come back to their default state (yes, default states can change, but that's a topic for another day). And, as I was recording the message I realised that  a lot of what I was saying to them applied to me. I am also struggling to find the passion in my work and have been feeling adrift and diffident since my PhD even though I know that I am intelligent. Maybe, I just need to give myself some time, either to regain the passion in my work or to figure out if I want to anything else. 

Another BFF Date

  I have written previously about my first Bumble BFF date and how the platonic chemistry was lacking. Today, I had my second BFF date, which went much better even if there were no sparks either. I don't want to turn this into a blog post about how friendships are formed. But, I couldn't help but notice that the first one was with a British guy. I haven't written about this before, and my views are not fully formed on this topic, but I find it difficult to make friends with British people. They can be pleasant enough, but then you often hit a wall made up of that famous British reserve. There are lots of things I appreciate about life In Britain, particularly that it is an introvert-friendly society. There is no expectation to strike up random conversations with strangers. But, the British reserve has its downsides too. Making friendships entails stepping into other people's space and taking the chance that they might resent the intrusion. 

Message Response Time

 I used to be someone who responds to messages immediately, but not any more. I started prolonging my responses to people who take ages to respond, and that habit is starting to seep through into all my communication. At first, I would be annoyed by people who didn't respond quickly but not any more. Some people are busier amd have more active social life than others, and as my social activity ahs picked up, I can appreciate that it is not difficult to fall behind on responding to messages. Responding to messages too fast can put pressure o the opposite person to keep up, and I am warming to the slower pace of communication. And in some cases, responding to quickly can encourage even more unwanted messages. 

Inadequate Supervision

 I had a meeting with a dissertation supervisee this afternoon which had echoes of my interactions with my PhD supervisor. He said he was not satisfied with his work and agreed with my criticism but did not know how to proceed. He seemed to imply that my feedback had pointed out the faults in his work but not given him enough guidance to improve. I remember feeling exactly the same way about my supervisor's feedback and struggling to understand what she expected from me. But, what I have come to realise is she didn't expect anything specific except rigorous research and carefully argued conclusions. Her job, and now my job, is not to issue specific directions but simply provide feedback on the rigour of the work and the presentation of its ideas. Research is a step (however tiny) into the unknown. Sometimes one lands on their feet, sometimes one falters or falls. In the latter cases, it is natural to try to pin blame, either on oneself or on others. But, the fact is that sometimes research does not go according to plan and/or to one's satisfaction, and one should have the humility to accept that.  

Airport Blog With A Difference

 I have a fondness for airport blogs, as reader(s) of this blog would know, but this is a blog with a difference because this time I am not waiting for a flight. I am sitting at an airport restaurant after bidding adieu to my parents returning to India after a three-week trip. I haven't blogged since they arrived because blogging requires space and solitude and I haven't had much of either in the past few weeks. I know I sound like a curmudgeon when I say that, but I am not bitter. I am simply stating a fact, and it was a welcome change from my daily life, which gives me plenty of time and opportunity for reflection. My parents' visit was not without potholes, but those potholes were to do with third parties and not the three of is. My only regret is that I don't drive, as that would have reduced the length of time that we spent with third-parties. Aside from that, there was  lot of fodder for blogging, which I will chew over in the coming weeks. All and all, it was a good visit and I may have discovered a new hobby--fell-running! Although I am not much of a runner, I ran almost every day in the past few weeks. As I was travelling with four seniors, some of whom are not in good shape, running gave me a good workout. Good workout=a sense of achievement + less restlessness + less impatience + more appetite. And, food and the tensions surrounding food choices was a big theme of the last leg of our trip. So, I think I am definitely going to write separate blogs on one's relationship with food and on running. 

Dating Casually

I have written before about the need to change the vocabulary of online dating and to stop using terms that treat it like a game., That was five years ago, pre-Covid, pre-cost-of-living-crisis and when climate catastrophe was a distinct possibility but not staring us in the face. Since then the world of online dating seems to have become more fraught, and harder to navigate if you are a sensitive soul who gets easily attached. What do I mean by that? People seem to have become more fickle, its more common to have nice conversations end abruptly for no apparent reason and everyone seems to be suffering from dating fatigue. So, today's post is about casually and whether it is a good strategy (strategy is a word I use consciously). The concept of casual dating is now new and could mean various things. It could be taking things very slowly and keeping the option of seeing other people open. If you choose that option, being upfront about it. The goal of casual dating may be to meet the person you want to commit to. It could also be a precursor to ethical non-monogamy, which is a concept I am curious about, even though I don't think its for me. You may or may not be sleeping with the people you are dating casually, but sex and romance are still on the cards--these are not platonic relationships even if they might turn into that in the future. Casual dating seems to be a good choice for emotionally resilient people with a full life, who desire a high degree of autonomy. But, is it a good choice for sensitive souls who get attached very easily as a way to not get too attached to a single person? To hedge their bets, as a crude as the term sounds? I increasingly think so. There is, of course, no excuse for dishonesty or mind games. But, aren't sensitive souls incapable of mind games, even if they can end up hurting people without meaning to do so? 

Kohhra

I just watched a TV series, Kohhra, which was a searing depiction of hypermasculinity and the violence it wreaks in the lives of men and women alike. I am not for a moment suggesting that patriarchy hurts men as much as women. It obviously hurts women more. But, the difference between hypermasculine cultures and other patriarchal cultures is there is lot of violence by men against men in the former in addition to violence by men against women, which is a feature of all patriarchal cultures. To be sure, there are plenty of ways that the patriarchy destroy lives without resorting to outright violence. But, I do feel that men, especially upper-caste men, have it much better in non-hypermasculine cultures as there is much more tolerance for departing from the masculine norm. The particular culture depicted is celebrated in the popular culture for its chivalry and sense of public service, so this was as a useful corrective. The line between being protective towards women and controlling women is a thin one. So, was it all doom and gloom? No. People rebel against repressive cultures for the freedom to live their lives as they please, to love whomever they wish, at the risk of losing their limbs or even lives. 

What I also appreciated about the series is its depiction of police violence in India against suspects, and how routine custodial torture is. I have never been at the receiving end of it and likely will never be due to my privileged position. But, I have seen enough to know that its routine. The time I saw a cop slap a truck driver just because he was parked in the wrong place; my visit to a police station where I saw a man trembling with pain and covered in bruises being led away in handcuffs. And, the time when I rode with a police patrol as part of a journalism assignment  and accompanied them on "raids" whose only purpose was to harass migrant workers by landing up at their lodges in the middle of the night, waking them up in the middle of the night and demanding to know their names and why they were there. In most TV series, police violence is glamorised, but not in this one. 

Gruesome Videos

 Today was the day I stumbled upon not one, not two but three gruesome videos on social media. I am not going to describe them because they are the best forgotten. All I am going to say the video of a man punch, knockdown and kick a Just Oil Protestor in the head was the least disturbing of the lot. I have always thought that I have a strong stomach, but the most gruesome video shook me badly. I have nothing else to say. I am just going to be careful not to wander into the nether regions of social media again. 

Jabeur's Implosion

I just watched Ons Jabeur lose her second consecutive single's final. It was not a close well-fought match as Jabeur pretty much choked. Before the match, they play pre-recorded interviews with the players. Vondrousava was confident on the verge of cocky, and didn't even mention her opponent once. She seems like a cool cat--was not even seeded, she doesn't even have a sponsor, her husband is at home taking care of the the cat. Jabeur was a bundle of nerves. Apparently, she has been working with a sports psychologist to build her nerves. At one point in the interview, she appeared to repeat her affirmations, "Whatever happens, I love myself and accept myself". She also said she has been working on her self-talk. I am not going to deign to compare myself with an elite athlete, but I also have an anxious personality and I have also choked in the few competitive games of badminton I played at the school level. I remember one particular game when I was playing with a much weaker opponent whose only decent shot was a jump smash. All I had to do was serve low and play near the net, but I imploded. It felt like I was fighting myself and losing, almost like an act of self-harm. Having a match slip out of your fingers and watching yourself go down without a fight is a pretty shitty feeling even in a school match, so I can't even imagine what its like in a Wimbledon final. It can often seem unfair that some people are born with emotional resilience and others have to work hard and work constantly at it. But, thus is life and bad luck can come in far worse forms. 

BFF

 I went on my first Bumble BFF (the friendship version of the dating app) date today, and it was bit of a damp squib. I am trying to broaden my social horizons and look beyond the academic, intellectual type that most of my friends would qualify as. This guy was outgoing, artsy and perfectly nice, but there was no platonic spark. That elusive spark! There is the obvious intellectual challenge of trying to dissect that spark into individual components. One obvious component is a shared sense of humour (although people with a dry sense of humour have to be careful that they don't come across as absolute dicks when they first meet someone). I know that not all friendships are birthed by a spark. Some come from fondness bred by familiarity. That familiarity could result from a sharing an office space or a home or from any situation that puts two people together for extended amounts of time. And, if you have similar interests you are more likely to spend enough time to allow the fondness to develop. Which means you should stick to seeking out your type of people? 

The Challenge of Defining Masculinity

 Another post on the crisis in masculinity, inspired by this article. The article talks about how men are falling behind in terms of professional achievements, rising deaths of despair among men, the rise of toxic role models like Andrew Tate, all of which is familiar territory by now. But, the focus of the article was on the difficulty of defining a masculinity that isn't toxic to serve as a guide for young men. There are some who believe that it is impossible to do so without sliding into essentialism--defining certain traits as masculine and others feminine, which brings you full circle to all the problems of patriarchy. But, the author argues that men are different from women, and not just that they have reproductive organs but also in character and personality, even if there is no one way to be either a man or a woman. She says  we need "a model (of masculinity) that acknowledges male particularity and difference but doesn't denigrate women to do so. Its a vision of gender that's not androgynous but still equal, and relies on character, not just biology. And it acknowledges that certain themes--protector, provider, even procreator--still resonate with many men and should be worked with, not against." I agree even if I, as a man, don't identify with all the themes she has mentioned, especially the last one. We can replay the nature-nurture debate about whether men are born with these traits or socialized into them till the cows come home (although there is , according to the article, a reasonable consensus that the distinctiveness arises from testosterone). Men--even the woke feminist ones--are distinct from women (obviously to different degrees) and an androgynous society would not appeal to most people. This does nothing to answer the question of how to define a masculinity that could serve as a code of rules for young men. But, at least, its an acknowledgement that we do need a code. 

Friends/Lovers as Therapists

(Some) women complain that (many) men can't/don't want to talk about their feelings. Many men are also realising that their friendships with other men ae superficial and that the conversation doesn't go beyond the level of banter or piss-taking. There are, unquestionably, many men who would benefit from talking about their feelings or even seeking therapy (I don't believe everyone needs therapy, but that is a topic for another post). But there are also men who are comfortable talking about their feelings with women, men who count women among their close friends. Yes, cishet men, not just gay men. I have written before about benign masculinity, and how some men are more comfortable talking to their female friends rather than their male friends, even if they know that the latter are also the sensitive, feminist types. Today's post is about these men who are comfortable talking about their feelings with women they have established a rapport with. For such men, it is easy to slip into the role of therapee, and there are women who complain about being put into the role of therapist by potential romantic partners. And, that is obviously a bad idea for a number of reasons. Friends/partners are not trained in counselling, and talking to them might be counter-productive even if they are well-meaning. Secondly, the risk of slipping into a neediness/co-dependency dynamic which is unfair on the other person. Yes, being able to confide in the other person when in need is an essential aspect of any romantic or close platonic relationship. But, relationships are about so much more than seeking or providing emotional support. They are about shared interests, shared values and beliefs, fun, laughter, banter, maybe sex. If its only emotional support and guidance you are after and you can afford it, you should be prepared to fork out 50 quid per session. Not to mention the fact that you can be much more frank with someone you don't know and who doesn't know you (becoming the client of a friend who is a professional therapist is a bad idea). And, if you does feel yourself slipping into such a dynamic, maybe its a sign that you do need a therapist. 

Himbos

 I came across a tweet by an academic which said that she was wondering whether one of her sons is going to be a himbo--empty head, no worries, positive vibes only. I was mesmerized by the term, so I looked it up. It turns out it also includes ravishingly good looks, and arose in the early 2010s following a spate of films in which the female comic lead had a hot dumb male counterpart to serve as a backdrop to her jokes. What wouldn't a chronic overthinker like me give to be a himbo? I know a number of people who are happy by nature as well as mentally well-endowed, so I know you don't need to have an empty head to give out positive vibes. But, it does seem like an appealing attribute, especially since if one is empthy-headed, one by definition doesn't pay much attention to the contents of their head, or lack thereof. But, it also got me thinking about whether I know any himbos. I do not. But, do himbos exist only in movies? I instantly thought of the Jackass movie franchise, and thought a bunch of the characters could qualify as himbos (although a counterargument could be that the himbo is a carefully constructed onscreen persona). The Jackass movies are immensely popular. It turns out there is a huge audience for stuntmen pulling pranks on each either, getting hit in the balls, doing outrageous stunts and sometimes getting badly injured, all while laughing uproariously. Playing the fool is an artform, which shouldn't be underestimated. But, I have digressed and should return to the topic of the himbo. Does a himbo have the self-awareness to realise he is a himbo? There is a song in one of the jackass movies that goes "If you are going to be dumb, you've gotta be tough. When you get knocked down, you've got to get up. I ain't the sharpest knife, but I know enough, if you gonna be dumb, you've got to be tough.". Its not high poetry, but I definitely don't think its written by a dumb person. 

On Making Friends

 I read an article today advising men on how to make friends. There is a crisis of loneliness, particularly among men, and this is becoming a popular theme for writers. Most men, apparently, struggle to have conversations that go deeper than banter, and many admit to not having a single close friend. The article was not a particularly engrossing one, and its suggestions can be be summed up as a) don't be embarrassed to seek new friends b) don't be embarrassed to read books to improve your socializing skills. If only it were that easy to find people with similar interests and whose personalities don't grate on your nerves (and vice versa, of course). I am not an outgoing person at all, but I don't instinctively shy away from making friends with a kindred spirit. Finding a kindred spirit is the tough bit--shared interests and platonic chemistry are both essential (at least to me). Friendship is one of my pet themes, so I am not going to say all I want to say in this post. But, the article did not explore the possibility of friendships between men and women and the challenge of maintaining friendships beyond the initial spark without seeming pushy. It also struck me that most of my friends are people unlike me in one respect--without an exception, they are warm and outgoing (this is definitely deserves a separate post). Also, I am not going to miss this opportunity to plug one of my first and most widely read blogspots, written back in 2007.

Landlord (and his kids) Return

 My landlord returned from Romania today, along with his two kids. I wasn't dreading the prospect of his return. I have lived for years with housemates who took up physical space as well as a good amount of space in my head because of their behaviour and habits. It often happened that relations were relatively warm initially, but turned frosty over time. Its difficult to be friendly with someone who does not show consideration for you, especially when your relationship is not built on a foundation of friendship. You can to some extent be more open about your frustration with a friend you live with, even though its common for friends who live together to move to salvage their friendship or to stop being friends. I have friends who say they must live alone, even if they can only afford a small, danky place. I have never felt that way. I would be happy to live with a friend who is as considerate and clean as I like to think I am. But the experience of the past few years has scarred me that I don't want to have a housemate unless I am acquainted with them and their living habits. My housemate horror stories could fill a book and this blog contains some of them. I would often take days off in the middle of the week because my housemates would be away at work, and go into the office on weekends, just to steer clear of them. But, that is a stage of life that I have hopefully left behind for good. 

Heat Of the Night

 I usually don't do book or movie reviews because they require more skill than I have and also more effort than I am prepared to muster for a blog post. So, this is not a movie review, its just a post about a movie I watched last night. The movie is called Heat of the Night, and stars Sidney Poitier as a black Philadelphia cop who finds himself called to assist in solving a murder in a town in  a 1960s Mississippi small town. There is a lot to like about the movie, but what I enjoyed most is the picture it drew of the summer nights in the 1960s Deep South. I admit to having a morbid curiosity about the Deep South. I have a friend who lives in South Carolina who says it is a common sight to see Confederate flags flying outside houses to this day. It seems like such a ugly but quaint world to me, and one so far removed from my reality that I can look at it with curiosity instead of horror. This movie lives up to its title, even if at first glance the title contains innuendo. The movie is set a night, and the heat is a constant presence in it. Sweat glistening on the character's faces, the sleeplessness, the loneliness (loneliness is often associated with cold night, but there is no lonelier experience than insomnia). There are also some interesting sub-themes, such as the isolation and self-hatred of a white man in the 1960s Deep South. In one scene, the white protagonist confides to Poitier his loneliness and misery, but on receiving an ounce of sympathy he lashes out saying he doesn't need his sympathy, implying that however low he falls he will always be above a black man in status. 

On Travel

 I read an excellent article titled the case against travel (its worth expending your free article allowance for). It made a strong philosophical case against travel without mentioning the effect on the environment, which is a point so obvious that it is low-hanging fruit. How travel forces the locals to mould themselves and the surroundings to attract more tourists, how it pushes people to "demand to feel something" when standing before touristy sights, etc, On Twitter, the author conceded the transformational potential of travel for young people and admitted that her article was targeted at older rent-fattened chronic travellers, who abound in the UK and the US. 

My own views on travel are that I am not a big fan of it because I cannot be buggered to sort out the logistics. All my trips are with friends/family or to see friends/family, treks excepted. I am moderately irritated that a fondness for traveler is a seen as a a signifier of an interesting, adventurous and vibrant personality. For instance, dating apps profiles are littered with the phrase "I love to travel". If everyone loves to travel, surely that's not a novel or distinguishing personality trait? 

But, I cannot deny that I have had some very fun trips, and also trips which have been transformational. The first long trek at age 15 that started my love affair with the mountains, the trip in the US/Mexico in the winter of 2013, that ignited a restlessness in me, that resulted in me first moving out of my parent's house and eventually out of India. 

Bike Blow-Out

 My rear cycle wheel has been feeling wobbly for a while. The girl at the bike repair shop I took it to last week said there was nothing wrong with it, except that it wasn't fully inflated. But, the fully inflated wheel continued to feel wobbly and today, as I was riding it through Castle Park it blew out. It could have been worse. It could have blown out when I was surrounded by cars on a motor, which would have been quite dangerous. A punctured tyre looses air slowly, unless you have rode over a police spike strip. A blown out tyre can't take any weight, and one is forced to a standstill, so you can imagine the effect when that happens on a busy road. But, my first reaction was not to thank my stars. I have a friend visiting who was looking forward to our bike ride, and now she would have to tolerate my sullenness. Also, when you walk along a route that you usually cycle on, it feels ten times as long. I am no cycling enthusiast, but it is simply the quickest and cheapest way to get around Bristol, despite the steep hills. Cycles are not allowed on the buses, and even if they were, it would probably have taken as long as walking because the buses are crap. Bristol is renowned for 'Ghost Buses' which are listed on indicators but never show up. Its a good thing that uni is out for summer, else I would have to further my acquaintance with Bristol's buses. Hopefully, I will be able to have it fixed tomorrow without much ado. 

On Boredom

This blog is a canvas for ideas that are not fully fleshed out, but my ideas on this topic don't even meet this low bar. Anyway here goes: this evening I wondered how much more peaceful life would be if  one had a healthier relationship with boredom. What are the different feelings that are boredom in disguise? I can immediately think of loneliness. Melancholy, maybe even porn-induced horniness sometimes. There are, of course, different types of boredom--being bored of what you are doing and being bored because you have nothing to do, with the implied assumption that one must always have something to do. And, when one can't find anything to do, one ends up doom-scrolling. Also, boredom can push you into interactions that leave you even more bored. I'm not the first one to suggest embracing boredom, "sitting with it" in modern parlance. As with most things in life, the How is the more difficult question than the What. How to to embrace boredom? I don't have the answers yet, or at least an answer that will work for someone like me. 

Pilates

I have been doing pilates for the past few months now, first at the gym and now also at a pilates class. My physio said I need to build my core strength and stability, and I have been following his advice studiously. The gym class had a few men before my India trip, but the past few sessions its just been me. And, the pilates class has only white women. But, this is not the first time I have found myself as the only man in a group of women. The book club in which we read only female authors, the yoga class in Montpelier, and now pilates. This is no surprise as book clubs, yoga and pilates are in the public imagination seen as female activities. Why is a sociological question that I do not have the expertise to answer. But that won't stop me from hazarding a guess or two. Reading is seen as a quiet gently activity, and I would imagine women read more than men. However, men are overrepresented in the ranks of authors and journalists which just shows you deeply the patriarchy is ingrained. Similarly, yoga and pilates are gentler forms of exercise compared to say martial arts or gymming or playing a contact sport. Whatever the reason, its very rare to find men publicly engaging with these activities. I would never stop doing something I enjoy/require just because I am the only man in the group. But, being in a room of mostly petite white women does make me feel very large, very brown and very male. Luckily, I found a solution in my previous class--take a place in the front row so that I am not surrounded by women (not that there is anything wrong in that). Being in the first row almost feels a bit like being in a private class because you are the closest to the instructor and they can keep an eye on you and vice versa. In any case, its only the before and after class that are the awkward bits. For the rest of it, one is absorbed in the class. 

Other People Finding jobs

 I would be the first to admit that I am prone to envy. Two friends recently found good jobs in academia , but my reaction was not envy but wistfullness. Both their positions were much more precarious than mine. One of them would have had to leave the country if they hadn't found a job, and the other did not have a full-time job. So, obviously, I am happy for them. In the spring, I had applied for a job at my alma mater and came second. I might still the job if another position opens up over the summer, but I feel like I don't deserve it, not because its a great job but because I am faking enthusiasm. I have written previously about how the PhD has taken a toll on my confidence and made me very cynical about academia. Now that the PhD is done (hopefully) I find myself struggling to find the motivation to spin articles off from my PhD. The PhD felt like a slog and the next logical steps after the PhD also feel like a slog. I find myself in a place of deep cynicism--I believe most academics have nothing interesting or original to say and I am not part of the tiny minority who do. I know I am no less smart or capable than most academics. It is just a question of setting the ball rolling--write a working paper, present it at conferences. get some favourable feedback, submit the paper, etc. etc. But, it has been difficult to break out of the coasting phase. 

Sparking

 I don't read the Guardian blind date column religiously, but since I spend so much time on the Guardian website, I think I rarely miss one. The last question  is "Will you see each other again", and the answer usually is "Just as friends" or "There was no spark". Maybe one date out of 15 or 20 ends with "we've exchanged numbers" or "it is on the cards". These outcomes are reassuring, lest one starts to wonder if they are the only ones incapable of sparking. (It is human to believe that our afflictions, our quirks, are universe are unique. I suppose they are far more common than we imagine but that is a conversation for another day). I guess the older one gets, the more difficult to find a platonic or romantic spark. And spark on the first date almost seems unimaginable to me. Where is the time to go beyond first impressions, to get over initial shyness, to allow each other's personalities to bloom fully, to establish which jokes are passable and which aren't? The odds of that happening to an introvert like me almost feel negligible. and then there are times when an initial spark doesn't lead to a fire. I sparked with someone last year on the first date, but our second date was a dud. 

The Undateables

I have started to feel like I am undateable, and I suspect I am not the only one. Yes, dating app fatigue is a thing, but the word fatigue gives the impression that it is something temporary and can be cured simply by taking a break from dating apps. What I am trying to put my finger on is something more permanent. Maybe it is the effect of being on dating apps for many years, mild PTSD from the pandemic, the climate crisis, or a combination of all of the above, but my/our self-preservation instincts have become too strong. 

To borrow a line from a poem by Kate Tempest--Everyone "has their  hackles up and backs against the wall." Dating requires vulnerability and openness, a willingness to take the risk of having your heart broken. And, I just don't think a lot of us are prepared to do that. If you don't get excited about anyone, it doesn't hurt when they disappear mid-conversation, right? Equally, if you don't get excited about anyone, why subject yourself to dating apps at all? As a long-term singleton, the idea that I am not built for romantic love is never far from my mind. But, an idea is not a conviction. One day it might become a conviction, but I am not there yet. 

On Neediness

 I have written on neediness before and I am not sure I have much more to add, but an encounter with a person who fits the description has brought the topic to the forefront of my mind. I have written about how needy people constantly seek validation from the people around them, which makes being around them feel like walking on eggshells. Again, this is not a tirade against needy people, and I can see how I have behaved in a very needy manner in some relationships in the past. But, what this latest interaction made me realise is how needy people can inadvertently be quite self-centered. They are so overwhelmed by their needs and so focussed on satisfying them that they can completely ignore the needs of others. 

Dating Apps

 I am going to try to not turn this post into a rant, but I have a feeling I won't succeed. The idea of dating apps is great in principle. I feel uni or work remain the best places to meet partners. You get to know each other while engaging in a common activity and there is no pressure of time (with the obvious caveat that one needs to tread carefully with workplace romances). It is easier to first become friends. When you are on a date, on the other hand, you are constantly thinking about a) whether you are attracted to this person b) are they attracted to you. At uni and work, these relationships develop more organically. So, what if you didn't find your partner at uni and work doesn't bring you in contact with a sizeable pool of people of your preferred gender? Maybe you have a hobby that does? Or maybe you are a charming extrovert who can chat up people in clubs or in the supermarket checkout queue?

However, if you none of the above apply to you, dating apps are a good option, especially for introverts. I am someone for whom good chat and shared political views are important, so dating apps allow me to filter and be filtered. Especially now I am past the age where physical attraction can compensate for a lack of compatibility on other fronts. Aside from being an introvert, I have also not been socialized to express romantic interest in strangers, so chatting up people at a bar or asking for their number is something I would never do. 

Now, for the problems with dating apps. Firstly, the market concentration. Hinge, OkCupid, match.com and Tinder are owned by the same company. The private equity giant Blackstone has a large stake in Bumble. So, if you paying for a subscription, you have to live with the knowledge of where your money is going. Secondly, dating is a terrible experience for both (cishet) men and women. Men tend to swipe right on every woman, while women are much more selective. The dating apps discovered that early on, but instead of encouraging better behaviour from men, they simply limited the number of free right swipes. The message is you can continue to behave badly as long as you pay for it. So, the result is women get swamped with likes and messages and most men get ignored//ghosted. Also, unlike other industries, unsatisfied customers continue to come back because if you are a large platform, they have nowhere else to go. They may hate dating apps, but they only have to get lucky once, right? So, they keep coming back. 

There is a lot more to say about dating apps, and how they are turning us into more superficial creatures, etc, but I guess I have said enough for now. 

First Night Back in Bristol (Summer 2023)

 My journey back a bit eventful. When we took our seats, I saw that some of the rows ahead were empty while my row and some of the neighbouring rows were full. On the flight over, the airline had herded us together while some rows were completely empty. Over the PA system, the stewardess said this was to keep the plane balanced. I didn't want to be the first person to break the rules, but as soon as the girl seated in front of me did, I followed suit. So this time around, my distrust of the airline's searing algorithm was understandable. Without thinking too much, I picked up my bags and moved a few roads ahead. Except it turned out that I had moved to seats with more legroom. The pillows said "Economy Delight" instead just economy. The seats were clearly more expensive than what I had paid for. I spent an hour or so nervous that one of the stewardesses would challenge me and how should I respond. Should I pretend to have have taken the seat by mistake, or admit to having changed seats and apologize profusely? Fortunately, nothing like that happened, and a few other passengers changed seats after me. I suspect the stewards were fully aware about what was happening but turned a blind eye. If I had asked to change seats they would have been required to deny me, but since I hadn't asked, they hadn't refused. 

The rest of the journey was uneventful but on reaching home, when I turned my computer on I saw an email summoning me to a meeting to discuss my workload for next year. I suspect I will have to teach courses that will require a lot of prep on my part, and will be mainstream economics to boot. I don't want to preempt the outcome of the meeting, and maybe it won't be as bad as I expect. But it is, I will just have to be mature about it and be ready to pull my socks up. I have been coasting for two years now, and I surely didn't expect this state of affairs to last. Neither was I happy with coasting. The status quo was bound to shift and now it is up to me to make sure it shifts in my favour. 

Back to Bristol (Summer 2023)

 I suppose there are so many posts titled "back to Bristol" that I should start signposting them with the season and the year. This trip has been the least stressful among all the trips I have made from the UK to India. Pre-covid, even when the world was a much less angry place, there was the stress of field work. Post-Covid, there was the stress of Omicron and my PhD, then my PhD viva. While I am still not completely free of my PhD, I am nearly there. 

This evening, I remarked to my mother that my life is there (in the UK) now. Of course, if I had a permanent job, I would be able to say that with more confidence. If I had a partner in the UK, even more so. Or  a house. All the worldly trappings that bind a person to a place. But, as imperfect as my life in the UK is, it is of my choosing, even if it is a negative choice. By that I mean I have chosen a place where I feel less like an alien, rather than more at home, although I guess they amount to the same thing. This is not the place to get into my relationship with India, but suffice to say that every time I come home, I feel more like an alien, and less capable of imagining a life here. 

Dancing

I went dancing last night in Thane for the first time. Thane is changing beyond recognition, and the club I went to was fancier than any of the clubs I have been to in Europe or the UK. Not that I have been to many at all. But, they had fancy lights, sparkler guns, cool visuals, a blonde girl to serve cocktail with sparkles--the works. And, I have recently started seeking out opportunities to dance. I have always enjoyed dancing and I am a decent dancer, if I may say so meself. I have a ear for rhythm and what I lack in grace, i make up for in enthusiasm and athleticism. I have also taken to dancing in my ktichen, which is particularly suited for it. Dancing when no one is watching is quite a treat for someone like me who is self-conscious. I think yoga has helped me move more easily and less stiffly too. In my kitchen I am the picture of ease and grace. But, yesterday, a friend took a video of me dancing, and it turns out I am nowhere near as a graceful as I thought I was. It doesn't matter thought, if I am dancing by myself in the ktichen. 

Off to Nepal Tomorrow

 I am off to Nepal tomorrow. It was supposed to be a trip for contemplation and meditation. While there are no major crises in my life there are several things I want to change or learn to cope better with. I see myself as a thinker (as pompous as it sounds) rather than a seeker, but I find myself coming up frequently against the limits of thinking and intellectualizing. If I could find a spiritual path that would help me cope better with life, it would be great. Maybe someone as skeptical and cynical as me can never find a spiritual path, but I want to keep an open mind. But, the course in Buddhist teaching and meditation that we originally planned to go to Nepal for has been cancelled. So, I promptly turned this trip into a trekking holiday. I don't plan to take my laptop along so this will be a strictly no-work trip, unlike any trip I have taken in several years. All my last few trips, even to see my aunt in Brighton, were work-cum-leisure trips, even if I felt eminently unproductive during those trips. Either it was PhD work or grading or both. I still have to finish my PhD corrections and there is still lots more grading to do, but that can wait for two weeks. I don't expect any solutions from the mountains to the problems of my life. I just want to not seek solutions for my life problems for two weeks. Just a breather--nothing more, nothing less. 

Setting Mental Boundaries

 I am going to try not to turn this into another rant about teaching. But its difficult to do that in grading season, especially if you are trying to speed up grading. On this particular course, the problem is not that I am teaching mainstream economics. Its that I am not sure what I am teaching. The course material is  a hotch-potch, and even I can't make sense of the assignment, so I feel sorry for the students. I was teaching on the same course last year, and tried to hash it out with the unit leader. So, this year, I didn't even bother trying. I don't know what she expects, so its no surprise that I am having trouble marking. And, I don't think I have ever read so much crappy economics. The worst part is some of the students will leave the course believing that they have a sound grasp of at least some economics, which they clearly don't. They have been introduced to too many concepts and too superficially, so they have filled in the concepts and done a god-awful job of it. Anyway, not my problem, which seems to be the maxim that I have taken recourse to most frequently over the past two years in this job. Yes, setting such mental boundaries is important to keep my sanity, but surely its not sustainable. 

Back In My Adolescence Bedroom

I am back in the bedroom where I sent a good part of my adolescence and adulthood after five nights of sleeping on the floor of my parents' bedroom. Blogging was out of the question because it was a full house. Blogging requires physical and mental space. The past five days are a bit of a blur. The things that stood out were the heat and the frequent reminders about my single status amid my cousin's wedding. This is not a post about my long-term singlehood, but I recently read a book about singlehood which echoed many of my feelings about it and I will get to it someday. For now I will just say that I encouraged and participated in jokes about my single status. I tried to embrace rather than avoid the elephant in the room, and as a man, I guess it was easier. It helps that Indian weddings are oriented around families rather than couples. There is no need for a plus one, as there is no couples dance or any dancing at all. 

Waiting to Fly to Mumbai

 My customary airport blog as I wait for my flight to Mumbai. I'm flying Virgin Atlantic this time, so I don't have to worry about travelling with a hoard of upper middle-class Indians. I suppose this is the most relaxed I've been travelling to India in the past few years. Dec. 2021 was in the fog of Covid, and Dec. 2022 was ahead of my PhD viva, even though I knew I would pass thanks to the benevolence of my examiners if not the brilliance of my thesis. The viva has come and gone, and I got away with minor corrections. There is still the matter of doing the minor corrections. Summer is not the ideal time to visit India, but every season has it drawbacks. Winter brings with it polluted skies, and summer the possibility of catching dengue for the third time or some other dastardly tropical disease. My relationship with India is complicated. Every time I go back, I feel more out of place and the thought of having to move back there if I don't find another job next year looms heavy. But India will always be home. And, I don't want to make it sound like every trip to India is an ordeal because it most decidedly is not. Most of the people I love dearly live there. 

Last Day of Teaching

 Today was the last day of teaching for this academic year. There is no question that this academic year was far more easy going than the previous one. No new job, homesickness, Covid scares, actually catching Covid, and tearing my hair out about my stalled PhD. But, I also felt spectacularly unmotivated. I was teaching the same courses as last year, but felt like I was less prepared than last year, when the material was knew to me and I had to exert myself a bit to familiarize myself with it. Yes, I am forced to teach mainstream economics, yes its been a tough few years for everyone, yes, the world is going to hell in a hand-basket, yes, I need to be kind to myself. But, surely, one can lead a meaningful life in the given circumstances. A life that does not entail constantly invoking self-kindness to survive. I want to regain my love and interest in economics but I don't know how to. Maybe the mountains of Nepal will provide some answers. 

Hike With The Ramblers

 My first proper hike since 2017. It was with a group called The Ramblers, which is apparently a very old and well-established organisation with radical-left working-class origins. I and a guy who sounded Eastern European, and had rocked up with nothing but a bottle of coca cola tucked into his back pocket, were the only foreigners. I was also the youngest person by a large margin, but I didn't feel out of place at all. I have always felt like an old soul and I got along well with everyone. On my meet-up walks with the international group, I always feel like I have to initiate conversation, and I assumed that is because I have a slightly cold manner. To be sure, I have met some interesting people through the international group, and I count one as a friend and a few others as more than acquaintances, but not quite friends. But, with most others, the conversation drags because the only thing we have in common is the fact we are both foreigners. And, since the walks are so relaxed, socializing is a big part of them. But, today was about serious hiking. We set off at a brisk pace, stops were pre-decided and timed, and although it was like an army march, there was no mucking about. It felt good to be around people who are passionate about being in the hills/mountains. Also, I don't remember being bored even once. There were some very experienced hikers and I got some good tips for my upcoming Nepal trek. All in all, a very good day. 

Marxism

This is not an academic blog and I don't want to start an academic discussion here. But, today, in our online discussion group, it was me against a group of Marxists. The discussion was very amicable, but it reminded me about less amicable discussions with my parents, who are ardent Marxists. The biggest barrier to debating Marxists is the terminology. Fictitious capital, valorisation, exploitation, etc. And, this may seem harsh, but many Marxists don't use precise definitions. They have a gut-level instinctive attraction for Marxist ideas, which is fine. We are often attracted to ideas, without being able to articulate our understanding of them. But, then, it is difficult to convince people who don't share that gut-level instinctual fascination. Its not a school of thought, but a lens that demands a lot from the wearer. There are no reluctant or wavering Marxists. Your are either a staunch one or you are not a Marxist. Also, I find many Marxist concepts are so loosely defined that its possible to fit almost any reality. For instance, almost anything can be termed as a contradiction of capitalism. In today's world, its not difficult to spot "over-accumulation", etc. and Marxists love to say, "I told you so" after a crisis, even thought most Marxists explanations of crises have barely changed since Marx's times. I realise I may be a bit unfair here and may not have read enough Marx or Marxists. 

Privilege Guilt

 I suppose all social scientists struggle to connect with people who don't share their political views. Or, maybe, only the sanctimonious ones do. The meet-up walk to Brecon beacons yesterday had two South Africans. I am wary of bringing up the topic of race with white South Africans, just as I would never bring up the question of caste or Modi with Indians. I stay away from these topics because chances are, I wouldn't like what I hear. Living in countries as riven with disparities is South Africa and India requires one to unsee stuff that would horrify an outsider. I want to say the conversation naturally turned towards race, but the truth is I was curious about their views. So, I brought up JM Coetzee, who is one of my favourite authors. He is a white South African, but race relations are a big theme in his novels, and he writs sensitively and incisively. The South African woman on the trek said his white characters are always villains and black characters are saints. I replied that that wasn't the case, at least in one of his most famous works. She admitted the point, but mentioned a more recent work that I hadn't read. And, then she talked about how Black South Africans don't see racism as their biggest problem, and are more concerned about poverty, corruption, etc. I remained silent, but felt like a sanctimonious twat afterwards. I remember feeling distinctly uncomfortable when a conversation with a friend and her friend turned to privileged Indians. At the time, I felt that I am well aware of my privilege, and didn't need to be reminded about it by someone who I had just met, and who had already pissed me off for an unrelated reason. But, I suppose everyone get uncomfortable when their privilege is brought up. The ones who are not aware of it. But, even people who are aware of it like to talk about it on their own terms and I have to admit that there is some virtue-signaling involved, at least in my case. 

Personal Tutees and Suicide

I just heard that one of my friends personal tutees committed suicide. The worst fear of everyone personal tutor came through in this case. I have decided to track all my personal tutees who are AWOL and write to them tomorrow. This is partly an exercise in ass-covering, partly in assuaging guilt in advance and partly out of concern for my students. But, one thing we have to keep in mind that we have too little influence or involvement in these students' lives. Yes, shows of concern and kindness can help a mildly depressed student feel better. But, its not going to do much for a moderately or severely depressed student. We are not trained counsellors, and the most we can do to a distressed student who approaches us  is direct them towards someone else. We are the school's cynical attempt to show students that they care. But, all we can do is show compassion in such cases. And compassion is great, but I'm guessing it cannot help prevent suicide. Our students have whole lives outside the ambit of their university classrooms. Our students are enigmas to us. Our contact with them is minimal in terms of time and impact. Parents may lash out to us to assuage their own guilt, but that doesn't make us guilty. 

To be Guided or Not to Be Guided

 I am still trying to organize my trek to Nepal and one of the questions that I have worked myself into a tizzy about whether to go guided or unguided. I wouldn't have minded a guided group but it is seeming increasingly unlikely that I will be able to join a group. So, looks like its just going to be me and a guide. being with a guide has its obvious pros--don't have to worry about the route, logistics, etc, and I can focus on enjoying the mountains. I have been to Nepal before but I am not an experienced enough trekker to be able to do it unguided without confidence. However, being an introvert, the first question that came to my mind is what do I talk to him about for 8 plus hours a day for seven days? With a group, I could have relied on the more chatty members to engage with the guide for a bulk of the time. And walking alone in the mountains has its own charm. However, the law has changed in Nepal, so the routes along which you can go unguided are few and far between. And, I earn in pounds now, and while I am not a high earner by any stretch of imagination, I would probably be comfortably rich in Nepal. My right to wanderlust or to find myself doesn't come before the right of people in one of the poorest countries in the world to earn a livelihood. So, at the end of the day, its an easy decision. A guided trek it is. 

Another Blah Meet-Up

 This was last evening, but I was too tired to write about it yesterday. In a post I had written more than four years ago, I had talked about why I avoided pub socials, and this meet-up reminded me that I was write. In pub socials, you are stick with the people you are seated beside. If they bore you, excusing yourself and inserting yourself into another conversation takes a level of tact and effort that I struggle to muster,. So, I just sat there with my beer, waiting till it wouldn't feel to weird or rude to leave. Finding intelligent people who share your interests is not easy, and you are unlikely to find them in a random group of strangers. Similar sense of humour, life experiences, interests, you need something to keep the conversation going. Which is why I so miss the book club, even though I was the only bloke there for most of the meetings. But, one lives and learns. I now live in a house that I don't feel the need to escape from, so I can afford to be more selective in my choice of engagements. 

How Much To Prep for A Lecture.

 Tomorrow if the first of my final week of lecturing this semester. When I first started lecturing, I would practice my lectures to time. Now, I have started to explore spontaneity. I think in the process of writing, so maybe lecturing is similar. New ideas, new insights may hit me when I am in the act of lecturing. Or, so I hope. The truth is the students are uninterested and uninformed, and lecturing them is a drag. SO, its not just an experiment with spontaneity, it is also a lack of enthusiasm on my part. I started out with hopes of reworking my course material from last year, which I was not very happy with. I ended up barely reworking anything. This lack of enthusiasm for both teaching and research will pass. Or I will find something else or someone else to be excited about. How long can I go through life coasting?