On comma ground: Where the US English team stands firm

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

For native English speakers of the Old World, namely inhabitants of Britain and (whisper it) Ireland, it can be hard to accept that our New World ancestors have better language conventions than us. For some things, that is.

USA: Home of the brave. And home of the useful Oxford comma, too.

It comes down to providing consistency and clarity and there are at least two areas where US/American English trumps British.

Team of us

In terms of consistency, the British English tendency to use plurals when referring to a team is difficult if not impossible to defend grammatically.

Taking the current English Premier League champions as an example, Manchester City is a team. Yet, we English speakers in Britain and Ireland almost always refer to the team using are, as in 'Manchester City are the champions of Europe.' It sounds weird to us to say 'Manchester City is the champion of Europe.' (I am aware that for those who favour the red half of Manchester, neither form is acceptable. What's more, as I write this blog, City's Champions League defence has come a cropper.)

I recall reading US newspapers, particularly the sports sections, during my first visit to the States, aged 15, and feeling that there was something amiss. The use of the singular for a team didn't seem right for somebody brought up on plural constructions for such an entity. It felt a bit cold and impersonal. A team is made up of people, after all.

It is, however, the Yanks who are on firmer ground if one strictly adheres to grammar rules. The team-is-made-up-of-people defence is understandable yet the idea of a team is that it works as a unit. (As the rather goody-two-shoes remark goes, 'There's no 'I' in team'. The equally inane retort is, 'But there is a me.')

Were 'Is a team' to go up against 'Are a team' in a grammar court, the former would surely win out. But hey, one doesn't tend to have much fun in court.

Clarity contest

In a clarity context, nay contest, US English tends to favour the use of the Oxford/serial comma.

In my school days, I was repeatedly told that it was wrong to place a comma before the 'and' in a sentence containing a list of items of three or more things. England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales — correct. England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales — incorrect.

One could say such a rule is rather insignificant. It matters little whether the comma is there or not. And for the minimalists amongst us, as I am, excluding it makes more sense. Fewer commas means less ink required in printing. Every little helps.

'Rather than being doctrinaire against the use of the Oxford comma, those of us brought up to obediently omit it should be open to its vital value.'

However, the Oxford comma is not a case of Yankee extravagance. It does serve an important purpose. Its omission can lead to much confusion.

To take from Steven Pinker's impressive and witty The Sense of Style: The Thinking Person's Guide to Writing in the 21st Century, consider the following:
'This book is dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God.'
'Highlights of Peter Ustinov’s global tour include encounters with Nelson Mandela, an 800-year-old demigod and a dildo collector.'

The lack of a comma before the 'and' in those sentences can lead to confusion (even in speech, with that absent comma, one may be inclined to leave out a helpful pause between the last two items). Thus, Nelson Mandela had a more colourful, far-reaching past, than most of us had realised. And the author of the book referred to has some powerful parents — or at least one of them is omnipotent.

So rather than being doctrinaire against the use of the Oxford comma, those of us brought up to obediently omit it should be open to its vital value.

Period pain

While we're on comma ground, one US convention — in academia in any case — that doesn't seem to have much logic behind it is the inclusion of a comma after 'i.e.'. What clarity does it provide? (I find some of American English's quotation-mark punctuation guidelines rather illogical, too.)

It's the same for Americans' use of full stops, or periods as they say, after each letter in an initialism. Why not USA rather than U.S.A.? It's superfluous punctuation, particularly when the actual words must be said together to make proper sense.

Sticking with period punctuation, I prefer the style choice more common in British English where there's no full stop placed after an abbreviation that starts with the abbreviated word's first letter and ends with its last. So it's Mr and Mrs for me, full-stop free.

However, abbreviations that don't end with the final letter of the word get a full stop. For example, co. for company (or county) and inc. for incorporation.

Most of these differences are matters of style. My general approach is if a certain rule serves no obvious, helpful purpose, then there's no need to use it, particularly when there's a viable, comprehensible alternative.

As we've seen with the Oxford comma, though, opting for less punctuation isn't always the best strategy. Nonetheless, old habits die hard. I still feel like I'm committing a violation if I use it.

When it comes to using plural forms for a team, its everyday use in British English has led to its acceptance. Through dedication and repetition, Team GB have won the right to say it makes sense.
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More artificial intelligence, less human intelligence

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

While not officially a mechanic, my father is fairly well-versed in the workings of the combustible engine, its accompanying components and other such machines.

'You can leave your brain at reception. It's not needed here.'

In the rural Ireland of his youth, the sight of a car was a memorable event. Thus, being more technical than academic — the latter wasn't really open to him in any case — he was drawn to discover how these mesmerising motors operated. From what I've witnessed, many of his peers from similar backgrounds did likewise.

In this earlier phase in the rise of the machines, it seems the desire to understand the transformative technology was widespread.

That the rate of change was slower and physically more in one's face, so to put it, this inclination to educate oneself about the new developments made much sense. Even Luddites had a decent grasp of what they were opposing.

AI kills the radio and video stars

Today's more rapid change, occurring in what is a largely intangible ethersphere, even for netizens, has left many of us in the dark about the workings of the digital devices driving our daily interactions.

When problems arise, as they invariably do, one is unlikely to have a DIY solution, outside of a reboot or the more drastic factory reset. And, as most will know only too well, many digital difficulties, online obstacles, require a fix far more convoluted than an unassisted system restart.

In my November 2022 piece, The digital dystopia, I wrote about some of these tech troubleshooting travesties.

'Large language models aren't quite at the stage where they can churn out Churchillian-style rhetoric but, by all accounts, they can come up with bread-and-butter prose satisfactorily.'

Now, with the inexorable advance of artificial intelligence (AI), not only are many of us ignorant about the nuts and bolts that put it together, but its raison d'être is to do the majority of thinking for us.

Rather than go through the hassle of doing strenuous study, racking your brain, AI will rake the internet for you and come up with a satisfying solution almost instantly.

So on the artificial face of it, life will be less arduous.

In my line of work — if I can be said to have one — the need for human editors and proofreaders will greatly diminish, nay already is diminishing.

Grammarly and the like have been aiding writers for the last number of years. Such grammar software is far from perfect but it's improving rapidly. (As Grammarly currently is, I wager that it's better than the average native English speaker at spotting grammatical errors.)

If Grammarly is taking the place of the real-life editor or, worse still, the need for one to grasp basic grammar, ChatGPT and its competitors are doing away with the need to be able to write in the first instance. Again, these large language models (LLMs) aren't quite at the stage where they can churn out Churchillian-style rhetoric — who amongst us can? — but, by all accounts, they can come up with bread-and-butter prose satisfactorily.

I imagine that LLMs will do — perhaps already are doing — a lot of the heavy lifting in compiling TV/radio news bulletins and suchlike. Heck, this might even tempt me back to the newsroom! (Refer to my piece Making the bell toll for us while we still can for more on my previous newsroom nightmares. The DJ-3000 from The Simpsons episode Bart Gets an Elephant, first aired on 31 March 1994, also comes to mind here!)

As for learning a foreign language, this could become obsolete save for those who have a special interest in it. Surely, in the very near future, Google Translate will be viewed as a caveman-like tool for communicating in a non-native tongue. 'What, back in the early 2020s you still largely tried to speak a foreign language?'

Active intelligence

With all of these AI tools, one can try to be an active, inquisitive user. I mean active here in the sense of not merely accepting uncritically the AI answers. For example, coming back to grammar, if it suggests a correction, one should at least know why it's doing so.

In this way, one can also learn. The rise of AI doesn't have to signal Armageddon for humans — or at least Armageddon for the use of one's critical faculties.

While engines and motors rendered certain lines of employment redundant, it can be argued that they paved the way for today's health and fitness industry. Work for many of us may be more sedentary now compared to previous generations, yet we still seek physical stimulation — be that simulation or real. And machines have certainly helped bring about mass tourism, problematic as that has become all the same.

Similarly, AI comes with opportunities and challenges. Some academics and experts fear it has far more of the latter. For sure, it is set to be more intimately disruptive in the lives of every one of us compared to previous technological advancements.

With that in mind, should refusing to engage with AI become next to impossible, trying to ensure that we remain in control of it rather than it controlling us, is key.

Keeping well informed and as much in the know as possible is a start. The overall direction of travel, though, suggests we're entering an AI Bright Age, with a new Dark Age for human intelligence.
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A pet hate

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

A farmer's work is never done. Be it tillage or livestock, caring for animals and crops is a perpetual process.

Anyone who has worked on a farm appreciates — or at least should appreciate — this.

Cute but costly.

Therein lies a problem in today's urban-centric world. Many people haven't worked on a farm. They do little to nothing to produce the food they eat. And no, driving to the supermarket or, for the more affluent and smug, the farmers' market is not a step in the production of foodstuffs.

So it wouldn't be the worst idea ever mooted to have city dwellers, particularly the wealthier ones who will most likely rise to positions of influence and power, spend a year of their young lives labouring on a farm.

In this way, they might acquire a greater appreciation for the work required to keep the masses, rich and poor, munching contentedly.

Even better, with more hands-on labourers, the use of that damaging, polluting farm machinery would be reduced. It's one way to address the pullulation of princes and princesses which has resulted in a paucity of proles in high-income nations.

Virtuous vegans

Yet, for those earmarked to serve their time on livestock farms, I've no doubt there would be a fair few conscientious objectors.

The objection: 'Raising animals for human consumption is a cruel and immoral practice, and one that also causes substantial environmental damage. Today's humans don't need meat and other animal products to survive. Thus, to partake in livestock farming is to knowingly and unnecessarily destroy the planet as we know it. I shall have no part in it whatsoever.'

Many who hold this view practice what they preach. They don't eat meat, and some don't even consume food from farmed animals that must be kept alive to get their produce, such as dairy products and eggs.

The vegetarian/vegan versus omnivore debate is far from novel. A recent renewal of it can be heard on BBC Radio 4's Moral Maze.

'The worst of these activists are those with an aggressive mongrel who believe that their little ball of fur is the God of dogs.'

I've mentioned before on these pages that many in the comfortable classes could do with eating less meat. Some could do with eating less, full-stop.

Also, as somebody who was raised on a small cattle farm, I do realise that some livestock holders could, indeed should act in a more environmentally friendly way. What's more, in certain areas, cattle-raising is perhaps not the best use of the land at one's disposal.

So, I'm not unsympathetic to certain elements of the vegetarian/vegan stance.

Dog dinner

Where I do cry foul — and f·o·w·l —however, is with the militant-esque no-more-meat activists who are also pet owners, particularly those who keep cats and/or dogs.

If one is vehemently against livestock farming in terms of cruelty and environmental damage, these same arguments can be aimed at pet owners.

Speaking about domesticated dogs specifically, most of them, particularly in urban areas, only get out and about when allowed to by their owners. They're not exactly free, are they? Their wild cousins in Africa would surely view such an existence as, at best, restrained.

OK, pet dogs are just that. They've been kept for centuries as human companions. Some of them are put to work, so they're not just a drain on the planet's finite resources. They contribute, they provide a tangible benefit. In certain parts of the world, people make a meal out of their mutts: not a dog's dinner but an actual dog dinner.

Yet, most dogs around today are pets and pets only. It's why, from the perspective of humans who like to be controlled and have most of their concerns taken care of by someone else, we have the expression, 'It's a dog's life.' (If I had to be one or the other, I'd choose to be a wild dog rather than one tied to a Homo sapien.)

These pets, of course, have to be fed and watered.

Carnivorous curs

According to Gregory Okin, a professor from the University of California Los Angeles quoted in an earth.org article, it's estimated that an average-sized dog generates 770 kg of carbon dioxide equivalent (CO2e) emissions annually. For an even bigger dog, the figure can be upwards of 2,500 kg, which is twice as much as the emissions from the use of a standard family car per year. An average-sized cat, for the record, can produce carbon dioxide emissions of about 310 kg in a year.

That earth.org article also states that the meat consumption of pets in the US generates about 64 million tonnes of carbon dioxide annually, the equivalent of driving 13.6 million cars. If cats and dogs in the US were their own country, they would rank in the top six for meat consumption globally. (Another piece that delves into this area is The Guardian's Throw a dog a bean: how to reduce the carbon footprint of your pets. See, I'm not completely anti-The Guardian.)

This should give some pause for thought to any cat- and/or dog-owning vegan activist who hounds pet-less meat-eaters. One may not be as green as one thinks.

In my experience, the worst of these activists are those with an aggressive mongrel who believe that their little ball of fur is the God of dogs. A my-pet-can-do-no-wrong green Gestapo. It's often the case that the most vociferous on a certain topic are the most hypocritical.

Thus, it can be argued that farming livestock is closer to a net benefit for humanity, and perhaps even the environment overall, than keeping pets.

If we had to scrap one and keep the other, would humanity suffer more from the loss of pets or the loss of livestock?

Human consumption of dog meat might shoot up around the world if the latter were to come to pass.
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San Juan de Rioseco: Only its river runs (almost!) dry

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

When travelling in Colombia, one is best not to put too much faith in expected journey times, particularly those sourced from the likes of Google Maps and with Bogotá as the origin.

'Oh look, that town is only 100 kilometres away and Google Maps says it takes about two hours to get there. Great!'

Eh, good luck with that.

The bullfighting ring is easy to see, but can you spot the main church?

About the only way such an arrival time could be realised is if you use private transport i.e. your own vehicle or contract a driver, and leave in the early hours of the morning.

Failing that, you face tumultuous traffic whilst traipsing topsy-turvy roads on buses that appear programmed to stop every couple of kilometres or so. These stop-happy buses are usually at their worst on journeys over shorter distances, but even on longer trips the compulsion to occasionally stall presents itself. (On those lengthier trips, it can go from sluggishly slow to fear-inducing fast, as I explained in Colombia's plebeian transport: A riveting ride.)

Having spent the majority of my adult life in Colombia and having travelled here fairly extensively, I should be accustomed to all this. However, one's formative years leave a mark.

Thus, when I see that a place is around 100 km from my base, my Irish mind tells me that the trip should take no more than two hours. Accounting for the Andes' bendy declines and inclines, I add a generous hour to that. Yet, even with that, I'm often still left frustrated at how long the journey ends up lasting.

Río Seco's feet fish

So it was for my recent trip to San Juan de Rioseco, about 60 km west of Bogotá as the crow flies — around 100 km on the road — and a daytime journey that Google Maps calculates at 2 hours 45 minutes.

Yet it took a painstaking hour and 45 minutes just to get to Facatativá, a town less than 40 km from the capital's main bus station, Terminal Salitre. Add to that the hour it took me to get from my Bogotá accommodation to the bus terminal and the total time on the road was over five hours. A mediocre 20 km per hour. (Leaving San Juan de Rioseco at 10 am on a Sunday proved more efficient. It took just three hours to get to Terminal Salitre.)

With all that in mind, one-night escapes from Bogotá are more hassle than they are worth.

As it was, I had three nights in San Juan de Rioseco. While I liked the place and its people, such a stint was enough when one has little reason to be there only to check it out. I'm particularly budget-conscious these days, too, so that played a factor in my more limited stay.

'Bullfighting trumps God from this outlook.'

San Juan's closest watercourse, the not-entirely-accurately-named Río Seco, River Dry — some water flows through it, enough for small, feet-nibbling fish to thrive — and after which the town is named, is insufficient for a refreshing dip.

In the likes of the smaller San Luis de Gaceno, one can waste away a few hours, cost-free, enjoying the nearby river. The lack of such a natural attraction in San Juan de Rioseco only increases the temptation for a few daily cooling-off beers. That's not great when one is trying to reduce one's overall beer consumption.

There is a swimming pool open to the public but in such warm lands I prefer a natural river or suchlike in which to bathe. Two advantages of the natural option are that it's free and, normally, one can seek out a quiet spot away from any splashing and screaming children. And adults.

Mentioning rivers, on a clear day the majestic Magdalena can be seen from certain points in the town. In fact, I was told that in the same direction the snowcapped Nevado del Ruiz also presents itself. Alas, the view was hazy throughout my stay. A faint glimpse of the Magdalena was as good as it got for me.

Coffee highs

There was no such visual impairment of San Juan de Rioseco itself. The most impressive view is from a perch just off the principal road into the town where the bullring grabs the greatest attention, outdoing the church on the main square (see video, below). Bullfighting trumps God from this particular outlook.

By taking the La Balsa route up to the Cambao-Vianí road, you get a more panoramic vista of the town and countryside at Mirador el alto del ángel, the High Angel Viewpoint, or something like that. There, the angels and God put the bullring in its place.

Had I been more adventurous I could have at least walked to Vianí, 16 km east of San Juan on the road back to Bogotá. From the glimpses I got of it whilst passing through, it looked like a respectable enough town.

A walk to Cambao is more of a stretch, sitting 36 km to the west on the banks of the Magdalena as it is. These are places to visit in their own right on another occasion. Walks in and around San Juan de Rioseco satisfied my wanderlust this time.

That many establishments in the town know how to brew quality coffee makes it easier to hang about. As I've oft-mentioned, not every Colombian pueblo has mastered the art of preparing decent, unsweetened coffee.

The somewhat bohemian craft coffee shop, Buáni Café on the main square, which cultivates its own beans, is the standard-bearer. Yet, even some of the plebeian panaderías make acceptable brews. Considering two of them occupy spaces in a building called Casa del Café, House of Coffee, it's only right that they do serve out a cuppa that doesn't seem like a chore to drink.

August Agosto

Now, not that I was in search of one, but it seems that San Juan has no tourist information centre. As it turned out, a chance encounter with affable Agosto within minutes of my arrival resulted in my getting sufficient info to meet my modest needs.

After initially and curiously asking me if I wanted to buy a Renault Laguna — I don't think I had the appearance of somebody on the lookout for a car — he pointed me in the direction of one of the more affordable hotels in the town, Hotel Central. (25,000 pesos for a basic room with private bathroom and, just as important these days, a good internet connection. Plus, the owner, Alcira, was very hospitable.)

Subsequent serendipitous meetings with Agosto saw him tell me about the La Balsa walk and the best route down to the river. On my second day in the town, he even suggested that I could stay in his spare room. I gave that a miss, though. Hotel Central was more than adequate, fairly quaint and far from extortionate.

More than adequate, fairly quaint and far from extortionate: This works as a motto for San Juan de Rioseco itself. It's just best not to do it as a mere day trip from Bogotá.
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Boosting dental health

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

A nuclear war. A devastating earthquake. Severe floods. England winning the football World Cup. A dental appointment. The mere thought of certain events occurring can make many of us shudder.

What is the tooth behind good dental health?

Handling the tooth

So it was with some trepidation that I faced the last of those traumas listed, self-inflicted as it was, having organised a check-up with my dentist for the first time since May 2022. Is an almost two-year gap a long time to leave between dental visits? In any case, for such matters, I generally operate a policy of, 'If it all seems fine and there's no pain, then it is fine'.

I booked this appointment chiefly for aesthetic reasons. Indeed, it's rarely been because of pain that I've sought oral care. The majority of my visits have emanated from issues with the false front tooth I've had to live with since I was 14. Teenage discos in Ireland can be — or at least they used to be — tetchy, tooth-damaging affairs.

What often happens, though, is that when I go to my dentist to just get something tidied up with the false tooth, she finds an exigency or two elsewhere.

'Oh Brendan, have you not felt any pain back here?'
'Eh, no. Well, I hadn't until you started digging and drilling at it.'

Dentist knows best.

Thus, it was quite surprising when on this latest visit she asked me if I had been seeing someone else — another dentist, that is, in his/her professional capacity only.

'So used had I become to the need for consecutive visits, it was a bit of an awkward goodbye.'

She seemed taken aback by the lack of pressing needs inside my mouth. I assured her of my fidelity to her. As referred to previously, I don't exactly seek out extra-dental affairs.

So having done what I wanted her to do — maintenance on the false tooth-and-a-half — off I went with no return appointment needed.

In fact, so used had I become to the need for consecutive visits, it was a bit of an awkward goodbye.

'So, when will I see you again?'
'You'll know when the time comes.'

And that was that.

One cynical way to view it is like an under-fire football manager getting the backing of the board of directors. 'We have full confidence in the gaffer to get through this.' Gaffer gets sacked the next day.

Something similar could happen with my receipt of a clean bill of dental health. 'You can't handle the tooth!' Quite!

No dental dictator

More positively, I have been thinking about what might be at play if it is indeed the case that my teeth and gums are in better shape these days.

One potential factor is intermittent fasting. I have been more conscious about snacking, grazing if you will, over the last 18 months or so, to the point where I try to regularly go at least 16 hours without ingesting food. I'm guessing the mouth, as it is believed to be so for other parts of the body, gets some benefit from not being under constant bombardment by having to break down foreign substances.

I've also been trying to drink more water and less beer. Without really keeping a strict tab on it, I'm not sure how successful I've been on this front. All the same, I think my booze consumption has fallen compared to a few years ago.

Then there have been my attempts to cut back on starchy carbohydrates and certain, more sugary fruits. OK, some may say the vitamin benefits from the fruits outweigh any potential tooth damage. That may be so, but the vitamins found in many of them can be sourced elsewhere, from various vegetables, for example.

Another small change I've introduced of late has been the use of a bit of bicarbonate of soda when brushing with my regular toothpaste. I started doing this after reading about the potential harms of many of the chemicals in standard toothpaste. OK, I haven't cut out toothpaste altogether but I use a smaller amount now when brushing. I did, though, experiment for a while with lemon and vinegar as toothpaste alternatives, in addition to the bicarbonate of soda.

One thing that I don't do and never really have done is flossing. Yes, I'm not a flosser. To some tooth tyrants, such neglect is a mortal sin. To each their own, I say. I'm not a dental dictator.

All I'm trying to figure out here is what were the factors that may have led to my apparent improvement in oral hygiene over the last couple of years or so.

And I know full well that I can't be complacent. This could all, um, blow up inside my face at any time.
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Merging a life vacation with a vocation

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'When men choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything.'

'I can do many things, but I don't want to do that.'

It's not exactly the best argument for being a theist, is it? It could be said to promote ignorance, impede inquisitiveness: 'Just believe in God and shut out all the other noise.'

Nonetheless, I can see where the English writer, G.K. Chesterton, to whom the quote is attributed, was coming from. A belief in a god that promotes personal development, humbleness and virtuousness — without being domineering — isn't the worst creed one could follow. Yet, however sound the theory, the practice of it is often found wanting.

And where traditional religions are on the wane, some folk feel the need to fill the void with even more pernicious creeds and systems of control.

A sceptic at heart, I eventually ditched the dogma of the Catholic Church imposed on me from birth, while I've yet to cave in to the postmodernist militia taking over much of the West.

Stem-less

Yet, a version — of sorts — of Chesterton's epigram applies to me.

It goes thus: When men don't focus on one specific career, they then thereafter are capable of doing almost anything yet often end up doing very little.

Such an affliction appears to be quite pronounced for humanities, arts and social sciences (Hass) graduates, as I am: a Social Studies Syndrome, to give it a label.

'One approach is to find a preferred place/country to work in first and then find the means to live there.'

Courses in social studies generally give one a decent introduction to a broad range of subjects. A Bachelor of Arts degree can open many doors. However, therein lies a potential problem. It doesn't give one a clear career path in the way that studies in science, technology, engineering or mathematics (Stem) tend to do.

Those latter disciplines also have a very practical application in everyday life. For example, there's a constant demand for both digital and physical infrastructure to be built and maintained. We're also always looking for ways to improve our health and that of other flora and fauna with whom we share this planet.

To be blunt, Stem subjects are fundamental to progress (they can and do, of course, lead to destruction, too). Social studies are nice extras but are far from essential for our existence. What good is a philosopher or psychologist when we're faced with real problems, actual oblivion?

For sure, there is more to life than just the physical and there are always moral issues at play in our actions. Yet, without clean water to drink, healthy food to eat and a safe environment in which to live we won't be in a position to give such metaphysical matters much thought.

Place dependent

Nonetheless, some of us are predisposed to concerns of a more metaphysical and moral nature. And in a well-run world — or one at least trying to be such — there is space and a need for such types.

The challenge for the social studies student is to find a well-remunerated, fulfilling outlet for his/her talents.

Many may find themselves switching jobs frequently but that in itself isn't a negative. Where loyalty to an employer was seen as a positive in the past, this is less so in today's environment of relatively poorly paid, often soul-destroying gigs.

Some employment opportunities suited to those coming from a humanities background are in the work-from-anywhere category. This can be a bonus, especially for those inclined to wanderlust.

Such a scenario, in theory anyway, allows one to choose a preferred place/country to work in first and then find the means to live there, rather than the reverse. To put it another way, go on a vacation first, then find your vocation, temporary as it may be.

I have done that to a certain degree with Colombia. My problem of late is that I've lost enthusiasm for the main means that I had to make ends meet here — English teaching. And remote working is a concept for which I have little love.

So there are various things that I could do either here in Colombia or elsewhere to earn a living but I'm not prepared — or in a desperate enough position, yet — to do anything.

The challenge now is to find something to believe in; and something that generates an income at that. This blog does accept donations, by the way.
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An act of good

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

In my early adolescence, I was a regular attendee at mass. Oh, how impressionable the young can be!

I bought into it to such an extent that I used to think that I was on a higher plane than those, such as my immediately older brother, who didn't follow the masses, as it were. Or at least I acted as if I was on a higher, untouchable plane.

'I go to church, ergo I'm good.'

My mere appearance at a church service meant I would not only be better looked after by the Almighty but any sins I committed — and I may have committed a few small ones — would be more likely to be pardoned than those of the non-churchgoers.

Act up

More precisely, my brother and others like him were infidels and were thus set for eternal damnation no matter what good acts they might do. I could cause treachery yet salvation would be my lot as long as I repented.

The, um, no-nonsense rules of the Catholic Church put paid to such hopes for perpetual bliss. My mother married a man — my father — who had been previously married, meaning that in the eyes of those making things up at the Holy See all my mother's children — myself included — were (are?!) doomed bastards regardless. Yet even after discovering such a devastating fate, I still played the faithful game for a while longer.

It wasn't until the end of my teens that I followed my brother's lead — mostly of my own accord, albeit — and quietly renounced Catholicism and organised religion in general.

That early big-C Catholic indoctrination — much of it was at odds with small-c catholic, as in it wasn't too liberal in its outlook — isn't easily wiped from one's memory and, by extension, behaviour.

Nonetheless, and allowing for the many contradictions and hypocrisies of Vatican rule, in Christianity there is at least a blueprint to live a morally sound life.

Yes, there's merit to the argument that we don't need religions to set our collective moral compass, that in a state of nature we'd be more inclined to be helpful to others rather than harmful. Much has been written and debated about that. There's no need to add to it in this piece.

'Doing a good act is undermined when it's only done to buy credit to be less good elsewhere.'

The point here is, to return to my mass-going days (in thought, that is, not for real), doing what one considers a good act is generally undermined if it's only done to buy credit to be less good elsewhere.

Linked to this are the types who talk up their one good deed to deflect attention away from their many shortcomings elsewhere. Fair enough, it can be beneficial to focus on the positives. But if it's done to the extent that one neglects the negatives, progress is often hampered.

Good for nothing

This came into my mind, harshly perhaps, when I saw a short video on the BBC's website about the country with the earliest wake-up time in the world. Who got that label? Why none other than my adopted home for the last 12 years, Colombia.

Across the world, getting up early is generally seen as a good habit. Various sayings extol its virtues: 'Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise', 'You snooze, you lose', 'The early bird catches the worm' and suchlike.

Yet, merely getting out of bed early doesn't in itself mean one is better than those who get up later. Colombians aren't exactly the globe's leading lights for efficiency and productivity, are they?

As I've discussed in previous posts, there's a difference between being at work and actually doing work. (I do, though, acknowledge the long hours of poorly paid toil that many in Colombia's lower classes are forced into.)

In all of these acts of good is the idea of much show but little go. Plenty of style but not much substance.

I'm reminded of the song It ain't what you do it's the way that you do it. Those lyrics can be dissected in different ways. A negative one is that style is more important than substance. A more positive perspective is that how you go about your activities trumps what your activities are — the idea of taking an enthusiastic approach to the most mundane of tasks. (Acts of pure evil are excluded here.)

After all, our actions speak louder than our words. And a corollary: When all is said and done, a lot more is said than done.

Words wither. Deeds deliver. With that, this is the word of Wrong Way. Go in peace to love and serve him.
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Fly on through the turbulence — there is no better alternative

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'Please secure your own oxygen mask first before helping others to secure theirs.'

That epigraph is, as some of you will be aware, advice given to passengers by aeroplane cabin crew in the event of an emergency that requires oxygen masks to be worn on board.

'When you're going through hell, keep going.'

Harmful help

Those with a more narcissistic personality may wonder why such a message is needed at all. 'Eh, I always look after number one first.'

However, parents travelling with young children or those who are with more vulnerable companions might be tempted to assist these others before attending to themselves. So I've heard it said, anyway. I almost always fly solo (my life motto, in many ways!).

Now, for parents, taking care of one's young children is — or at least should be — a priority, one that often means mother and/or father have to frequently forgo some personal wants.

Yet, there are times, like in the oxygen-mask scenario, when putting one's offspring first could do more harm than good to both child and parent.

A parent, naturally enough, is too emotionally involved and the innate desire to protect a child often overrides what objectively would be considered a more prudent, beneficial-for-all-concerned approach.

We're all at risk of such behaviour when it comes to those we hold dear or to whom we feel indebted.

Care necessities

My return to Ireland and subsequent extended stay have had elements of this at play.

With my parents entering their twilight years and with an amount of flexibility on my side in terms of being available to help out where possible and required, I figured I could be at least of some benefit by being physically closer to my family while I try to navigate through my own fog of uncertainty.

I am, also, a country boy at heart so mucking around with livestock on the family farm is something that I don't mind doing. What irks me is the farm's overall unkemptness. A sure-fire way of infuriating me is to ask me to clean up somebody else's mess.

'It's rather difficult for me to secure my own mask first for the fact that I don't even know where my mask is.'

At 80 years of age, the chances of my father suddenly turning to tidiness are between slim and none. Others will be left to confront this, what I view as chaos, when our father departs the land of the living.

That aside, I can say with some certainty that my occasional assistance has been appreciated by my father.

I'm far less certain that my being around my mother has been a net benefit. This is chiefly due to the demon dementia that is gradually taking hold of her.

I've found it difficult not to get annoyed when she buys yet more food that will only end up going to waste (I hate to see food being binned) or when she asks the same questions over and over and over again.

Thus, my annoyance has at times ended up annoying her. It has made me think that it might be mutually beneficial if I just left her to her own devices.

Of course, the most likely scenario is that her condition will deteriorate to the point where she'll put both herself and others at risk if left to fend for herself.

Should she live for another number of years — physically she's in decent enough shape — full-time care in a secure environment is what she will need.

Yes, a family member could take up this round-the-clock, predominantly thankless task, allowing her to stay in the family home. It would be, however, a significant undertaking for one person, something I touched on in a piece last year titled, The care necessities: Dealing with old age.

Such care from a family member is made even more difficult when the patient is merely the body of the person you once knew so well. Their mind and thus their actions become alien. The parasitic dementia is in control.

Don't mask me!

For me right now, all this is framed within my what-and-where-next predicament, in terms of both what to do income-wise and where to live.

In this mindset, it's rather difficult for me to secure my own mask first for the fact that I don't even know where my mask is. All I can say is that I'm fairly sure I won't find it in the west of Ireland at this moment in time. Fairly sure that is, not fully sure.

So while physical, real untidiness that I have to deal with angers me, my chaos, my mess is more of a mental kind.

Materially-wise, I mostly fall into the minimalist category so it's relatively easy to keep order compared to those who have lots of belongings. Yet, mentally, things are not that clear.

For sure, few if any of us go through life without the occasional emergency, those turbulent times when we hope that the metaphorical oxygen masks emerge to support us. It's just — on my career flight in particular — travelling through turbulence has become my norm over the last few years.

Nonetheless, I still feel largely in control of my craft. And, currently, it seems that I'm happier in flight rather than grounded indefinitely on terra firma.

Sticking to my life flight should put me in a better position to fight both for myself and others. And it's best not to wait for the oxygen masks to be deployed. By then, the situation will most likely be beyond repair.
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Without the pain, the pleasures are plain (and enslaving)

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

No pain, no gain. The meaning of that proverb needs little explanation, expressed in various guises as it has been throughout the ages.

I can't think of any success of note I've had — yes, I've had one or two — that didn't come without some pain in one form or another, save for the odd win in gambling.

Seeking out some pain makes many feel more alive. 

I must also state that the pain part in some of my bad romances came after I had savoured the initial success. Thus, I question the belief that 'tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' I would have happily forgone the pleasure to avoid the resultant pain. A more apt expression in such scenarios is, 'Easy come, easy go.'

Of course, another way to look at my relationship woes is that I wasn't willing to put up with some constant pain for, perhaps, an overall gain in happiness. It depends on how one views such, um, affairs; this blog has analysed them from an array of angles over the years. One place to start is with Everlasting love and work your way back through the hyperlinks.

Pleb pain

On a broader scale, as any self-help guru keeping it real will tell you, life is suffering. Or, putting it in less depressing words, life is but a sea of melancholy, warmed up only sporadically by the odd drop of delight.

However, the modern conveniences and state-hung financial safety nets to which some people in certain parts of the world can rely on mean that the suffering in merely existing has been diluted to an extent.

Great that, isn't it? Who wouldn't want less suffering in the world?

The issue here is that as a species, like any other, suffering and pain are meant to be part of living. It's a default setting.

'Outside of activism of abnegation, others find their wholesome pain in feats of physical and mental endurance.'

What some self-styled social democracies are trying to move towards is a citizenry devoid of everyday concerns. No real short-term financial issues, no hunger of note, everything made simple and safe.

'Placate the plebs to the point where they won't notice nor care that they've no real control over their affairs', that's the direction of travel. Impotent but content.

Think of us plebs as being well-fed domesticated dogs as opposed to the wiry wild ones roaming the African plains.

Yet, all the dog treats in the world won't sate that desire to live on the wild side. It's innate.

In rudimentary health

It's why, although we may be more controlled than ever, some in our comfortable classes who haven't yet become utterly disillusioned or been subdued completely seek out what I term wholesome pain to feel alive again.

Insofar as I can put myself into the comfortable-class cohort, my constant, somewhat self-inflicted pain is my attempt to maintain a minimalist lifestyle. I say somewhat self-inflicted because as things currently stand, and particularly in terms of high-income-nation living, without a steady income I have to be more minimalist than profligate anyway.

What's more, I can't say it's that painful for me. I don't mind shunning what I view as conveniences that others may think of as essentials to get by.

In fact, if we all had to take a more rudimentary approach to life — e.g. walk or cycle to get around, prepare our own meals from scratch, no home heating at the touch of a button, that kind of stuff — then few would have the time, means or even desire for a lot of the wilder, extreme pursuits we see today. Anyone up for the next Marathon des Sables?

These days, though, we don't have to worry about the fundamentals of survival to the same extent as those who came before us.

Yes, I sound a bit like Steven Pinker here but in terms of health and wealth — happiness is much more debatable — the average adult human in this century is in a better position than his counterpart who lived just three or four generations ago.

Cold comforts

Hence the search for some pain to make us feel more deserving of the many low-hanging pleasures; pain to stoke the flames of a fire of life that normally just quietly smoulders away.

The more radical climate-crisis activists appear to want a universal return to the aforementioned rudimentary way of living. Pain to all mankind (I'm not sure about the non-binaries). The difference between most of them and me is that I try to do what I say, they preach, cause disruption and in the process anger others whilst doing little good.

Outside of this activism of abnegation, others find their wholesome pain in feats of physical and mental endurance, as alluded to earlier. A particularly popular one these days appears to be cold-water dipping (studies suggest it does have health benefits, up to a point in any case.)

So while our freedom is steadily disappearing in this surveillance society, we can still, within reason, pick our own pain for some sort of personal gain. Indeed, these days, freedom is pain. Freedom is suffering.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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