Incoherent Readings

I’ve become very incoherent in the way that I read. In the last few days, I have approximately 5 books on the go flitting from one book to another as I drift from context to context in the search for their message. I don’t get to the end of one book before I start a new one.

Solutions, People

There are two ways to approach any issue, and two mind sets when an issue is identified – problems people and solutions people. These reflect different characters and different approaches to the world. They represent alternatives and we get to choose which alternative we make ours.

Confessions of an Economic Hitman

John Perkins’ “Confessions of an Economic Hitman”  reads somewhere between spy thriller and banality – and it’s this odd combination which makes his claims believable. In any event Perkins insists that the book is factual.

The story is simple. During much of the Cold War, from 1971 onwards, John Perkins was an Economic Hitman or EHM.

A National Day Farce

TVB’s blatant pandering to the Motherland for National Day was rather obvious. I hope for their sake it will be appreciated across the border.

It certainly blew to shreds my last bit of belief that there was credible news to be had from our local TV stations. It was amusing how sincerely devoted to the 60th Anniversary Extravaganza they tried to appear.

Planet Bohra: A 2nd Visit

I visited Planet Bohra today, for the first time in a long time, and I feel obliged to put a few words out there about my sense of disappointment.

Planet Bohra has gone wrong.

Twittering Buffoon

I’ve embraced wittering on Twitter with a vengeance. And tweeting on Twitter is fine. The risk is not, as David Cameron so recently said, that too many tweets might make a twat (which is a given for any Tory MP), but that 140 characters is a beguiling limit.

What is I?

The word “I” is one of the most commonly used words in the English language. It is a simple word,  that reflects one of the most obvious subjects in human language and human experience. It is absolutely self evident to each of us that the I exists. We are all “I” to ourselves.

As I’ve started to dabble in psychology, first in the online Yale lectures and then reading the many books that I’ve recently grabbed of Amazon, the recurring sub-text of these rudimentary investigations is the curious emptiness of I. If anything, the trend in empirical psychological research as disseminated to the book reading public seems to be that the person who least understands ourselves, our past and our future is ourselves.

K.I.S.S

One niche that I find myself occupying often in these quiet economic times is article writer. You would think that’s a good thing, given that I’m addicted to the written word.

The problem is that the kind of article writing I get to do isn’t quite that kind of writing. What kind of writing is it? It’s writing of the ‘law for non-lawyers’ kind.

Words That Echo

Paradox

I’m happy with life at the moment.  Time is whizzing by, there’s always something enjoyable to do at work, even if its one or two tasks a day out of the ten that have to be accomplished. It’s work, so I’m not expecting euphoric personal satisfaction.

Overall though, life is good. Life is better than good. It’s somewhere in the neighbourhood of fantastic.

At the same time, I feel depressed because it can’t last. All good things come to an end, and so it is with this good thing. I feel someone is going to come and take it away from me. My happiness will be destroyed.

Part of my brain thinks that this state of mind is the purest insanity. One cannot be happy, cynical and sad all at the same time. But I am.