Love and peace are verbs

 ...doing words, actionable words. Not the naïve verbiage of the kumbaya-minded, as the cynical among us would dismissively have you believe, but a reckless attitude, a fearless determination to make the world a better place. Not simply the absence of war but justice, equality and non-discrimination; and not just for some but for everyone.

The never-ending story

It’s been a tough year, don’t you think? What do you mean it’s only January? My point exactly! It’s only January and this year has already met all my nonexistent expectations. What do you mean that makes no sense? What in this world makes sense anymore anyway?!

War, the cost of living crisis, climate crisis, food crisis, displacement due to war and the climate crisis and the food crisis. They are all connected; the time of peace dividends is over. And what of liberal democracy? Is liberal democracy on the way out? It is if you ask the likes of Putin, Xi, Erdogan, Orbán... But what is the alternative they offer? Authoritarianism. Submitting to the state and the man or party in charge. Freedom equals chaos in their vernacular so they take away your rights and they take away that freedom. The freedom to speak freely, freedom to dissent, freedom to demand something other than what the man or party offers.

Having said that, have you noticed how benevolence hasn’t lost to virulence and violence? Despite every vile thing that is going on; not in all the thousands upon thousands of years humans have inhabited this planet, living, loving, killing and oppressing one another? Ruthlessness or the right of the strongest still haven’t wiped out softer tendencies such as kindness and altruism. Little wonder, since only so-called strongmen value ruthlessness and privileges won through oppression and exploitation. Most of us see those tendencies for what they are: malevolence. Evil. Then again most of us tend to value benevolence over malevolence and kindness over ruthlessness. We long for goodness. We expect goodness. And we practice it.

What else is there? What else can you do? The alternative is hurtful and unhelpful, a ruse to pit us against one another. Hate makes you ruthless and it makes you cruel, so whenever you feel hate raise its ugly head please step back and take a deep breath. Don’t let baser instincts, your reptile brain, get the better of you. That’s emotion, a feeling, one you shouldn’t ride lightly.   

And furthermore, strongman is a misnomer. No one is more thin-skinned and afraid of criticism and opposition than a supposed strongman. Overcompensating oafs who take things personally and attack people instead of problems or who blame other people for problems they themselves have created and/or are responsible for solving, that’s what they are. Infallible to boot, like the Pope. So akin to…gods, then? Now there’s a dangerous and deranged belief. All-powerful they are not, not in a literal sense. Realizing an ambition without doing harm is something no authoritarian or totalitarian leader has ever achieved. Of course, not doing harm is not all that important to them. But it is for the rest of us. That means most of us.

Cooperation and mutual respect, that’s what has kept us afloat and that’s what keeps “strongmen” up at night. What if I can’t beat them into submission, bully them until they break down, back off and shut up? What they don’t understand is that all those soft tendencies do not equal weakness, quite the opposite. They are the hard core of humanity, something cultural evolution hasn’t managed to snuff out. It takes guts to be open and vulnerable. It takes dogged determination to face insurmountable odds. It takes a brave soul to go against someone who doesn’t care if you live or die, a system that wants to crush you. It takes courage to do what you dread.

My point? I’m sure I had one...sorry if I lost you along the way. Oh well, oh hell, it’s been a long and tough year. Shall we go enjoy the weekend, whatever counts as R & R in your books? Happy Saint Sebastian’s (or Dia de São Sebastião, the patron saint of Rio de Janeiro)!

Peace out.

O Natal tá chegando! 🎄

Temperature: 2/35.5 degrees with more snow on the way.

Eating: Greek chicken gyros. Yes, we do still eat meat on occasion at Casa Dita. I ruined the boys by taking them to a churrascaria. On every trip to Brazil. My infinite bad. Which I’ve been trying to rectify. But what did they ask for just the other night? Poulet au vinaigre aka Lyonnaise garlic vinegar chicken. It’s a process.

Drinking: a wrappucino. What’s a wrappucino? I have no idea, but I bet if I had one, I’d have extraterrestrial wrap-it-all-up energy oozing out of every orifice. Which sounds like sci-fi gone horribly wrong. Maybe just a cafezinho then. (Yes. Afternoon coffee. Again. It's a process.)

Listening: Kissing and a-hugging, dancing and a-loving, wearing next to nothing, burning hot as an oven… That would be the B-52s, folks, proud purveyors of love and unity through music and pop culture since 1977. What Christmas with my sister’s family will look like. On a scale of one to are-we-there-yet, how excited am I? Stoked, sweetie darlings.

Watching: I have never been less excited about the World Cup. As if the tournament in Russia wasn’t bad enough. Much ado about nothing or genuine reasons to boycott? No one does pissed-off-and-for-all-the-right-reasons-ones-I-will-explain-in-an-educated-yet-entertaining-fashion-if-you-can-focus-for-more-than-a-TikTok late night better than John Oliver.

Reading: Everything the Light Touches by Janice Pariat, and Corruptible: Who Gets Power and How It Changes Us by Brian Klaas. Highly recommended by yours truly, madly, deeply.

Writing: up a storm so that everything gets wrapped up before the holidays. Hmm, so that’s why I concocted that stimulant of a wrappucino...

Thinking: ...not that I’m in need of a stimulant, the smiles, giggles and shenanigans of my nieces...ai meu Deus, that's motivation enough.

Feeling: There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart. (From the poem A Grateful Heart by Celia Thaxter.)

P.S. I will stop by before Christmas. 🤝

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum

Temperature: -2/28.5 degrees with snow on the way.

Drinking: some belated wedding anniversary Pommery later on.

Eating: a test version of this year’s bûche de Noël, my son’s Christmas bravura. It’s a yes from me.

Watching: the posturing and grandstanding of budding and actual autocrats.

Listening: to their BS.

Reading: suggestions! Catherine Belton, Ruth Ben-Ghiat, Luke Harding, Anne Applebaum, Masha Gessen, and anyone else who dares speak truth to power, such as this year’s Nobel Peace Prize laureates. Maria Ressa and Dmitry Andreyevich Muratov were awarded “for their efforts to safeguard freedom of expression, which is a precondition for democracy and lasting peace.” There are some 35 working democracies in this world, and north of 140 countries we can label deficient democracies, hybrid regimes or moderate to hard autocracies. Democracy and social peace may be the ideal but they are not the norm; they are under attack and in decline due to populists, demagogues, despots and oligarchs eager to divide and conquer. Each and every one of us plays a part in enabling their rise or expediting their fall. How we vote, how we speak and write, how we shop and handle our finances, how we treat and regard our fellow humans. Our actions and words matter. Our silence and indifference have an even bigger impact.

Writing: season’s greetings.

Thinking: all the posturing and grandstanding, all the BS, makes the lot of you look like dicks, only smaller.

Feeling: Up and at ‘em, sweetie darlings, tyranny isn’t going to fight itself.

Unity

It's International Women's Day and I'm exchanging clinking glasses, kisses, hugs and flexed biceps emojis with friends. It's a celebration, a chance to lift and carry one another, but one laced with sisterly sorrow. The world keeps torturing women in such subtle and sadistic ways that it's hard not to take it personally. The mere knowledge of millennia of torment can be dispiriting and debilitating, as if we can feel the fates of our foremothers in our bones.

And to those now thinking "I'm sorry but it's 2021, get over it and get on with it": I'm sorry but I can't help you, I simply don't have time to educate you, get smart and then get cracking, it's an emergency and we are all on call. 2020 was a major setback for women and women's rights (women's rights!! we need a separate term for what ought to be universal and inalienable, for fuck's sake) and we will keep on sliding in 2021.

In a perfect world we present our case, a perfectly justified one, and presto, the world tips the scales and we find ourselves on an equal footing. In the real world life is a steeplechase without handicaps; men have a disproportionate, institutionalized, age-old advantage over women. It's possibly the stupidest thing humanity has ever invented and perpetuated. Gender inequality hurts women and men alike. Our lives would be easier, happier, more prosperous and peaceful were women given a fair chance. Gender equality is in everyone's best interest, economically, ethically and environmentally. Every vote, voice and act against gender equality is self-defeating and self-destructive.

And if you still don't know what I'm talking about then you've just figured out what I'm talking about: men and women share a planet but live in two different realities.

Bridge over troubled water

Temperature: -5/23 degrees with snow, finally, but whoever turned on the snow cannon, please turn it off!

Eating: cacio e pepe pasta in a minute.

Drinking: I’d love some crispy white from Tuscany with that, but Protestant Northern Europe tends to frown upon middle-of-the-day-middle-of-the-week imbibing. I’ve become quite the Lutheran.

Watching: The Bureau, not another version of The Office, mind you.

Listening: to Another Sky: Music For Winter Vol. I.

Reading: The Double X Economy: The Epic Potential of Women’s Empowerment by Linda Scott.

Thinking: about free speech. The right to speak freely. By all means do, but if what you say is against the law, be prepared to suffer the consequences of your utterances. But where do you draw the line? What if what you say is illegal because your government says so? Making a meme out of Putin, mocking Erdogan, or bad-mouthing Xi is out of the question. It's silence or prison in these countries. And there is your line and la différance. Where the majority of people have drawn the line and where the person or party in power decided it lies. Which do you prefer? Rules we have agreed upon or rules dictated from above? No rules at all? A free-for-all? That never ends well. That's the Rudy Giuliani Method of trial by combat. We've tried that over the centuries. And decided we're not doing that again, agreed? So what the hell are you doing salivating over the thought of beating up the press, your perceived opponents and anyone else you feel like messing with in the name of law, order and democratic rule, you misguided fool being used as a tool, you went on the internet, didn't you, and found a tribe and your self-worth and somehow it hinges on tearing down some other tribe and their self-worth because the system is too ambiguous and immutable and there has to be something you can do because you cast your vote and it didn't go your way and now you are mad and this is not right and you've been lied to. Yes, you’ve been had, my friend. By the man who promised to support and defend the Constitution, and who only cared about supporting those loyal to him and defending his personal and business interests. Wanna get mad, get mad at him. And that's what people did. Voted him out. In a free, fair, peaceful election, and there is an abundance of evidence to support that and nothing but hearsay, conspiracy theories and outright lies to the contrary. If you resort to violence to enforce those lies, don't be surprised if you aren't hailed for your patriotism but jailed for terrorism. It’s not about what you want as an individual but what people want as a nation. It’s certainly not about what one man wants. Autocrats elect themselves. After Putin comes Putin, after Erdogan more Erdogan, and after Xi comes more Xi. Democratic societies get to choose. Celebrate that, honor that, because the alternative is a prison and a nightmare for all.

Feeling: Ad-based, revenue-based streaming, it gives the same amount of space and clout to anti-vaxxers and research-based medicine alike, to holocaust deniers and evidence-based history alike, to truths and lies and every manner of distortion in between. Is it any wonder some are lost, dazed and confused? Is it any wonder last week on Capitol Hill looked like a cosplay con gone rogue with the Duck Dynasty and a guy in the Chewbacca bikini breaking through billions worth of national defense, as one Twitter user put it, with people ready to get violent and people with no clue of what was happening, and some amazed they were maced when they were simply taking part in the time-honored tradition of violently overthrowing the government also known as a coup, and yet carnivalizing the scene takes the focus away from the fact that some were and are dead serious and dangerous and should be stopped in their tracks, while giving a mic and a camera to trolls and other rebels without a cause is never a good idea, it just muddies the waters. So that's where we're at. And tech companies have not suddenly developed a conscience and discovered morality, they are scared. Scared of losing revenue, being regulated, sued, of employees walking out or organizing. So it's about money. And what of money and politics? Doesn’t buying your way into power, political donations, funding elections, disenfranchise the poor? Is it any wonder many feel their voice isn’t as audible, their concerns as pressing, as the voice and concerns of those in power and now deciding for them? Equality of opportunity. Is it real? Really real? What about equality of condition? As things stand, can the disenfranchised ever expect to get a fair shake? Trump was not the answer, agreed? More tax cuts for the rich and less regulation across the board is not the answer, it’s just more of the same.

The mysterious Styles affair

Temperature: a drizzly 7.5/45.5 degrees.

Eating: almonds and raisins with some…

Drinking: …glögg!

Watching: Some documentaries I’d like to recommend and hope you have access to: Why Do We Dance?, Whose Streets?, A Word After a Word After a Word Is Power, and Bleed Out.

Listening: Don’t tell anyone but I’m already listening to some Christmas tunes.

Reading: Kleptopia: How Dirty Money Is Conquering the World by Tom Burgis. Dearest denizens, you should read this book.

Writing: Christmas letters overseas. I still enjoy writing by hand. Gives you time to think about what to say and presses you to write only what is pertinent.

Thinking: Watching my son getting dressed for a date and being really meticulous about it brought back the Harry Styles on the cover of Vogue business. And the backlash, which in most evoked a big fat what-so-what-calm-the-hell-down. This is a threat to men and masculinity, to family values and children, some opined. How? Explain to me how a man in a dress is a threat. How is tulle, or the color pink or old rose, wearing makeup or heels, going all out peacock or just putting on some mascara a threat? Let’s step back in time and put this into perspective and think Highlanders or Baroque and Rococo; or the more recent history of pop and rock with no end of examples of men in heavy makeup, ruffles and attention-grabbing colors. What is so wrong with expressing yourself, your personality and identity through your choice of clothes and accessories? What makes some so uncomfortable with the individual choices of others? I ask again: where is the threat? There is more than a little homophobia, transphobia and misogyny in these alarmed worldviews, I think. A sense of real men, manly men (whatever the hell that means, and if Putin, Bolso, Trump and the likes are your touchstones then you need to rethink your preferences or at the very least stop trying to hang them on the rest of us) being under attack. By light fabrics and lipstick? Pastels and joie de vivre? Displaying an ability to be all you want to be, not some limited, superimposed, conventional version of manhood? Because those limits have reached a limit, that superimposed role hurts men, and punishing those who defy convention continues but leads nowhere. Climate crisis is a threat. Harry Styles is not. If you feel threatened by Harry Styles, or by anyone who isn’t a real actual threat to your health, safety and life, then that is your problem, not theirs; leave them alone. And maybe talk to someone about your insecurities? People usually only want to help. If you let them.

Feeling: thankful. The extended family is healthy, either retired or still employed, and hanging on to the hope that we will meet again soon and give one another the longest hug in the history of embraces and big giant smooches that border on drool. If that isn’t something to look forward to then what’s the matter with you? The Grinch pinch your spirit? Go pinch it back!

You're the voice

Somewhere over the rainbow

How goes it, sweetie darlings? Are you all right? Seems as if crisis upon crisis is being heaped upon us, doesn’t it, and you don’t know which way is up because everything is going down the drain through a gigantic garburator, and what comes out the other end is anyone’s guess.

WTF is going on, right? Well, first came the autotrophs…stuff happens…more stuff happens…humans come along…steady string of shit happens…and here we are, two billion years later, living in the Anthropocene, a youngish manifestation of life on earth, debating intrinsic values and negotiating inalienable rights like the savannah (or aquatic?) apes we are, fresh off the evolutionary boat.

But enough with the mangled metaphors. WTF, right? Yet…it’s not as if anything new is going on; maybe it’s just new to some of us. It’s not as if we haven’t been warned; the existence and consequences of crises such as climate collapse or inequality have been studied, established and documented, repeatedly. It’s not as if we have the right to be indignant or surprised; there’s just never a good time for a crisis. Do you have empty slots in your calendar? You might have, but you won’t be filling them with crises, are you? Of course not. There are a thousand and one things you would rather be doing. And I’m not berating you, being cheeky, snarky, or *gasp* a cynic. Of course not! We are, after all, an optimistic race. Positive and forward-looking. Shit happens, life goes on. People die, but life goes on. Of course it does; but we seem to be, as humans always believe they are, in a unique crossroads, a time of great change and big decisions, living in life-threatening and upending conditions. Of course we are. This is, after all, the only time and place we know, we haven’t lived in another. And we have to live and learn all on our own. Past mistakes are past, we have to make our own. Past teachings are past, we have to learn those lessons on our own.

But…there’s just no time for that, or a tug-of-war. Every day wasted bickering is a day wasted. We have the facts, the numbers, the data. But when those facts have no bearing on you, it’s easy to skate over them. When that data means upheaval, loss of revenue, loss of privilege, there will be denial and dismissal from those who profit from the status quo. Can there really be as much poverty and inequality as advertised? You’ve never been poor/discriminated against and don’t know anyone who has been. Is the climate in crisis? The weather seems fine! But just like the weather is what you see out the window and the climate covers the entire planet, my experience of the world is mine, and your experience is yours. We’ll never know what it’s like to be someone else. We’ll never live in someone else’s skin, walk in their shoes. But we can imagine. I’m not at all surprised so many women are taking part in the BLM protests. Many or most of us know what it’s like to be dismissed or discriminated against, so damn straight we empathize.

I think that’s what the world desperately needs and has always needed: empathy, imagination. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the world through anyone else’s eyes but yours. Without them, you don’t and won’t see the consequences of your actions. Facts and numbers and data are absolutely essential when you’re trying to win an argument, but to win a heart you need stories. Books, plays, movies, music, fine art are all fine vehicles, but real people, real lives, real experiences are better; you can’t dismiss them as figments of someone’s imagination.

Let’s listen to one another and speak our truths and tell the world what it feels like to be human in this time and place we occupy together. It’s not a competition but there is a prize: more compassion and cooperation, more empathy and unity; a positive change; a more inclusive world. The suffrage and abolitionist movements succeeded. The LGBTQ+ community is fighting for and winning recognition and rights. The “natural order” of things isn’t natural at all, it’s man-made. So is the climate crisis, gender, racial, regional and economic inequality; they are connected and they intersect. Let’s wise up. Let’s take responsibility and let’s take action. Let’s challenge leaders, companies and governments who won’t. Let’s not vote for or put up with Teflon suits, the Bolsonaros, Johnsons, Morrisons and Trumps of this world. (If it talks like a misogynistic bigot and bully, looks tailored to corporate needs, and seems to both shirk responsibility and avoid accountability, trust your gut instinct and first impression, it is, it does, and will keep doing.)

And let’s challenge ourselves. You are the leading expert on being you. Listen to other experts on life on earth. Read, discuss, think, think again. Admit that you have cognitive biases and distortions. We all do. We are encouraged to brand ourselves, and with all the talk around identity, you can’t help but think that maybe you should get one. Before you know it, your thinking becomes entrenched and every person, idea or circumstance that doesn’t fit doesn’t count. Don’t let that happen to you, dearest denizen. Fight it. With all your might. You are the one and only you just the way you are. Respect and celebrate that by respecting and celebrating the uniqueness and full humanity of others. And be prepared to change. Change course, change your thinking, change your ways, change your mind. We are, after all, a hopeful race. Cooperative and creative.

If you’re tired of being a consumer, a commodity, a resource, become an agent. If you’re tired of witnessing the degradation of your fellow humans and our habitat, become an agent. An agent for change; an agent for good; an agent for a more equal, livable world. If you feel as if there is no reason to get out of bed in the morning, dearest denizen, sweetie darling, my friend from afar…you have found your purpose.

Cool heads, warm hearts

The year is drawing to an end and we’re all exhausted and perhaps a bit fed up and even disgusted with how the world is shaping up. What is a girl/boy/your (pro)noun to do? Laugh? Cry? Drink? Sink? All tried and true coping mechanisms. That don’t change a thing or make you feel better in the long run. So what do we do, dearest denizens? We pledge ourselves to truth, justice and equality. We say no to despair and roads to nowhere and yes to solutions and ways forward. But where do you find such things? How do you get your hands on a roadmap like that; whatever it is you search and yearn for in this life?

Is it a case of not knowing enough about X that makes you jittery and uncomfortable? Do you find making decisions difficult if not impossible? Do you feel helpless, maybe even vulnerable, and not in a sensitive open to the world kind of way but in a sensitive open to exploitation sort of way?

My solution, or a solution: Read, dearest denizens. Voraciously. A snippet here, a chapter there. Broaden your mind, your horizons, without ever having to leave the comfort of your…wherever you prefer to read. Read about what fascinates you. Read about what baffles you. Read about what scares you. Read to discern fact-based information from biased BS. Read to know what others think on important matters and matters important to you. Read to understand how you are being steered. Ignorance is not a badge of honor, a clean slate, proof of innocence. It’s you being susceptible to disinformation, misleading and abuse. It’s you flailing in the wind, grabbing whatever extended arm seems sturdiest. It’s a choice you don’t make but one made for you and sold to you as your deepest wishes come true/greatest fears dissolved. Don’t fall for that, any of it. A little skepticism, a little self-preservation, goes a long way. Using your knowledge, putting knowledge into action, can change your life and the world.

For better or worse, now that’s another matter. Because knowledge is power. So arm yourself. There are, of course, numerous booby traps along the way. Everything from apophenia thru negativity bias to whataboutism. An alphabet soup to cloud your vision and judgment; we’re all susceptible to some degree because we’re human. But there’s an antidote for that, and I don’t mean a cure for being human. I mean the dangers of biases and propaganda techniques. And yes, it’s reading on them. Get to know the world and how it works. Get to know yourself and how your mind works. If you don’t know about the past/the world/yourself, how are you supposed to understand and navigate the future?

But…but…no one knows what’s going to happen in the next five minutes, let alone five years! Bingo, baby. That’s why it pays to be prepared. As prepared as one can be. [And there are leaders and governments out there not all that concerned with educating citizens properly, specially girls. Literacy is the key to agency. An illiterate person busy surviving is not likely to stir up trouble, not by oneself, or demand that their rights be recognized and respected.]

Of course, you can choose to go with the flow, to react when need be. But that usually means resorting to old tricks and solutions, treading water, hoping for the best…posting before thinking, screaming over others, general aggression and confusion that serves those who benefit from general aggression and confusion. (Hint: and I hope you already practice this, consistently: as the saying goes, every thought spoken out loud should clear three gates: is this true, is this kind, is this necessary? I'm still learning.) Your mind can be the worst sort of minefield, one you may end up navigating with a false self-image and deeply ingrained misconceptions as your compass. The world and everyone you encounter affects you; how they treat you, how they speak to you, whether they ignore you or acknowledge you. We spin a tale about who we are, and just like so much of information these days, it’s not always based on facts.
 
A snippet here and a chapter there amounts to tens of thousands of pages each year, and don’t tell me you don’t have time. Put the phone down, maybe? (Unless it’s your reading medium of choice, of course.) Books are sacred. They’re magic carpets. Time machines. Empathy builders. I’ve watched in horror as people mariekondo their libraries into extinction. And, sure, not all books merit another read and certain types of info need to be updated from time to time, but once a coronal mass ejection shuts down cyberspace, libraries and bookstores will become our temples. And those with know-how will show how.

For all the sound and fury, I still believe that most of us only want what’s good for all of us. So when you feel exasperated with the world, consider this: Most people are kind, decent and altruistic. Not saints but fellow humans trying to do more good than harm. They don’t shout about it, they don’t make a big production of it, they don’t do it for attention or accolades. And they sure as hell don’t do it for money. They just want to get on with their lives, this one round we’re given, and since they don’t know how long their round will be, they try to make the most of it, hoping to leave a meaningful mark instead of a stinking stain. This benevolent streak of ours, that’s what we should focus on. Isn’t that the meaning of life? According to Monty Python it is.

Try to be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try and live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.

That’s my Christmas wish, sweetie darlings. For you and me and all of humanity.

P.S. Remember that eye-watering pain in my hip I once mentioned? I have a diagnosis and of course it’s bad news. Nothing I did, something I inherited. Can’t be cured, only controlled. All I can do is keep taking good care of myself. I will be in pain from time to time. I can live with that. So long as my feet carry me, my brain functions, and I wake up not dead, I’ll be fine. I’ll take my cues from a great-aunt in her late nineties. If you ask, she’ll tell you how she’s doing. But you won’t hear her complaining. C’est la vie, baby. And c'est de la merde. And this is the first, worst and last on this subject.

Human league

We celebrated Europe Day on Thursday. What do you mean you didn’t? What do you mean there’s nothing to celebrate?! I thought we agreed we’re neither cynics nor quitters, dearest denizens, hmm? Desperate times call for decisive measures. Desperate times are the perfect time to commit to core values. What do you mean you have trouble remembering what those are? Ah, I think I know what you’re thinking…

Money, numbers, trade cycles, corporate jargon…they permeate everything. The only value acknowledged seems to be market value. More and more you feel not like a citizen but a consumer, a customer. Well, sweetie darlings, if that’s the lingua franca of the world, let’s be really, terrifyingly demanding customers, locally, nationally, internationally. Our money, our choice. Demand to know where the money goes, when, why, what is done with it and who benefits from it. Cui bono? Who stands to gain? (And that is the question. And I don’t mean in a what’s-in-it-for-me kind of way; the treasury is not your piggy bank, it’s ours. I mean it in a do-decisions-benefit-the-99%-or-the-1% kind of way? Are we talking common good or private profit?) Demand transparency and accountability. Your money, your right.

Where people go politicians and policies ought to follow. Don’t sit out elections; local, national, EU level. Ever. Vote. Don’t lament the state of policy or politics or politicians, vote. Vote. Engage. Participate. Challenge. We put our representatives in place and we have the power to put them out of their jobs if they’re not doing theirs. Simple as that. Unless you live in Turkey, for instance, where the ruling party did not get the result they wanted in Istanbul so let’s have another round and see if we can’t get a result more to our liking. Now there’s a country sliding so fast under authoritarian rule they’ve stopped being subtle or sneaky about it. If they ever were, in hindsight. And speaking of hindsight, here’s a common reasoning error:

If the present state of things seems bad, things must have been so much better in the past. So the logical move is to turn back the clock at all costs, disregarding the fact that things weren’t that grand in the past and that the present is a vast improvement. Pining for a uniform culture is the greatest lie of all. But that’s what the rising tide of nationalism and nativism panders: a return to an imaginary past of imaginary glory inhabited by supposedly happy citizens living in a peaceful and prosperous homeland. Where everything and everyone is in agreement. Or else. Which sounds kind of like North Korea. And no one wants to live in North Korea. Not even North Koreans.

It’s an incremental process, stripping us of our rights and liberties, a chance to have our say, to dissent. It’s a local decision here and a legal precedent there. One move might not be alarming but string them and you start to see a pattern. Reason fights against reading too much into things, venturing into conspiracy territory, people tend to see patterns where none exist, and I mean they wouldn’t, would they? But they have. All over the world, time and time again. They most certainly would and could even in our neck of the woods, given a chance. How many rights and liberties can you surrender before you live in a totalitarian state? Better not let things go that far because the day you get your answer it will be too late.

And what is this grudge with government people seem to have? Is it a case of not understanding what the government or the EU is and what it does and what purpose it serves? A government works for the people and the common good. Your government works for you. The EU works for EU citizens. We, the people, make up that union. Its home is not in Brussels or Strasbourg but in every household in the Union. We are all part of it. We all have a part to play and we all have a say in how things are managed. And if you feel they’re being mismanaged then speak up, and vote. United we stand, divided we fall. It’s up to Europeans to make the stars on the European flag align, for our sake. And what is this beef with socialism the Trumps of this world have? That’s like saying this government will never work for all its citizens but…yeah, who does it work for then? 

[And dearest Americans, please try to distill the signals from the noise. You have an administration taking data and services designed to serve you all, paid for with your tax dollars, being suppressed and monetized by freeloading companies selling that same data and the very same services back to you for a profit. Oh, you don’t have to take my word for it. Ask the Department of Energy or Commerce what’s going on.]

The problems our home planet faces observe no borders. They climb walls, they swim channels, they cross oceans, they are airborne. They are our problems. Not something for someone else to take care of but ours. Nothing will get fixed if we start hiding behind walls, across channels and oceans thinking nothing can touch us now. Start thinking that and you’ll have another think coming. We need multilateral treaties and agreements, fact-based decision making, and cultural sensitivity. We need reminders of what we can achieve working together and what we stand to lose if we choose isolation and imperialism. 

What we really don’t need is a nostalgia trip into our not so distant and very violent past when our raison d’être was to go against one another. Just look at our track record. Those were some pretty shitty times. Because our worst instincts always lead us astray. They lead to bullying, blaming the victim, playing the victim, hatred, cruelty, and war. It never ends well. It always ends in death, devastation and centuries-long grudges. Humans at their worst. There’s no pride, glory or victory in being a human devoid of humanity, homo idioticus instead of sapiens. But it’s easy, isn’t it? It’s easier reacting, being angry, petty and vindictive than prudent, benevolent and respectful. The latter require an effort, a commitment, focus. But without that effort, commitment and focus, without a warm heart and a cool head, we are just homo idioticus about to get ours.

We are one another’s safety net, sweetie darlings. We are family, and like all families we have our disagreements and our screaming matches, our conflicting views and values, our frustrations and limitations. But when the chips are down, we ought to pull together to help one another. Because that’s what families do. That’s what friends do. That’s what humans do best.

Oh, you socialist…idealist…dingbat. Aww, thank you! There’s more where this came from. It was so good talking to you, human to human. Now let’s get back to work. Yours. Mine. Ours.

Dear fellow human

A midsummer night's dream

I dreamed I wrote a rather long and rambling essay on the economy, ecology and equality. Long because of the amounts of cause and effect and problems and solutions I managed to cram into that one piece, rambling because of the myriad associations, the links and bridges I managed to build. Full of pathos, I went from global warming to refugees to immigration, from nationalism to fascism to racism, from global trade to global warming and back to refugees again. My theory of everything.

Too bad I don't remember half of it but I do remember feeling a strange but strong sort of relief getting it all down in writing, as if I hadn't quite known what I thought on the subject before I wrote about it and had now laid down a burden, the anxiety that comes with the feeling you don't understand the world around you, the hows and whys, the implications, the consequences. In my dream I had managed to collect my thoughts, observations and opinions, arrange them in a well-structured manner and lay them out coherently and elegantly. (One can dream, right?)

He built this garden for us, they were called, my nocturnal notes, a slight but quite deliberate misquote of a Lenny Kravitz song, I presume, since I opened with a picture of our garden, a garden I gladly work on but one my husband has had a heavy hand in creating. So he doesn't bring me flowers every day. He built me a garden. I realized this is the longest I've stayed put, and not the least because of the garden that grows around me, a house that's like the tropics in the arctic, the peace and happiness I feel in both.

Who has the right to peace and happiness, or prosperity? On what terms? On whose terms? Who promised life would be easy, fair or happy, a man once asked when the question came up, a man who'd never suffered or struggled, who'd never been and never would be any type of minority, an outcast, disenfranchised, displaced, the underdog. No one had ever denied him, crossed him, belittled him, stomped on him or stood up to him. I understood his question. I just don't think he did. I don't think he gave a second thought to where his wealth came from, to whom or what he owed it to.

Taking a close, critical, honest look at most anything usually makes you focus on the flaws and the problems in something, then promptly sign up for a transcendental meditation class, learn mindfulness, go buy one of those adult coloring books, whatever takes your mind off the fact the world is a pretty fucked up place getting worse by the second, now that you really look at it and think about it, so better not look too closely, better concentrate on things closer to home such as you, yourself and, well, you, Jon Lajoie was right: Fuck Everything. Wait, what?

One of my university professors believed cultures evolved in cycles, all cultures following the same cycle but at a different pace. All clashes between nations, cultures, creeds and even individuals stemmed from our conflicting values and views, our place on the cycle, and our need to impose those values and views, our will, on others. I've seen such forces in action, determinism, relativism and entitlement at its worst. I've seen evidence to the contrary, kindness and compassion and selflessness at its best.

Maybe authors and artists can't change the world but they show us what it's like to live in it, what it feels like to be human, living under the same sun and moon but very different stars.

Hey brother

Lances at the ready, gentlemen, I'mma climbing on a high horse. Cue groans oh gawd it was such a lovely day what now? International Women's Day! Yes, I know, but I was kinda busy on Saturday, and this year's theme stands every day of the week/month/year. Equality for women is progress for all.

You gotta wonder sometimes, and gents please don't charge before I've had my say and please please don't take offense because I do not mean every man on the planet, but are men stupid or something? You really want to shoulder the burden, financial, political, enter areas of overrepresentation here, on your own? Like really really? Because women sure feel that way sometimes, that you're making life unnecessarily hard for yourselves keeping your own counsel, upholding your old boys' clubs, anti-social networks closing the door on fully capable, willing and able women, people differentiated by the fact that their breasts tend to be bigger than yours.

Considering that our breasts have nothing to do with our brains, they sure play a big and baffling part in the oddest of times and places. The same goes for other discriminating factors. Irrelevant. At least they should be. So don't go there. With your eyes, or your hands. Your thoughts? Keep them to yourselves if you're with Camp Chauvinist. And go camp somewhere else. It's 2014 for crying out loud but you wouldn't believe it reading the Everyday Sexism Project stories and suchlike.

I have one, every woman does, starring that part of the female anatomy that makes many a man stir and stare and many a woman insecure for life. This was way back when I had hardly anything to make you stare or stir, a time when I didn't know if I liked what I saw or what I would be seeing in a year or two, but there they were. Now. Picture a bus with many school girls, young and a bit older, on board. Along comes a gang of three boys, 17 to 19-year-olds, about to play a game as they make their way to the back: breast spotting. Breast spotting with running commentary.

I had plenty of time to realize what they were doing. Plenty of time to watch their faces, see those smirks, listen to their lewd remarks and laughter, hear other girls hiss and curse. Time to wish I was someone else, somewhere else. I intended to look away, pretend I saw or heard nothing, brush it off with indifference. I ended up looking the boy who stopped in front of me straight in the eye.

Big mistake. I still remember what he looked like and I still remember what he said, but I was thirteen years old and I hated them, those boys I didn't know and never saw again with the fire of a thirteen-year-old, and that makes the whole episode that much harder to forget. To them it was just a stupid game. To the girls in that bus they were just stupid period. But when the games and comments start piling up some girls really do stop listening and some girls stop talking and some girls stop believing they'll ever meet a decent guy and if they do he's probably just pretending or a recovering asshole about to relapse and who wants that, you know.

I'm not kidding, gentlemen. I kid you not, I've held a girl's hand, tried to talk her out of giving up on you, told her there are plenty of good men out there because I knew there were, just you wait and see. So for the love of all that is holy please don't make your life unnecessarily hard, okay. Don't be an insensitive jerk. It's 2014 for crying out loud meaning you're very much at risk of being on the receiving end, the punch line of a sexist joke and who wants that, but what goes around comes around, you know. Or as a former card-carrying playboy now a father of three girls put it: "Poetic justice much?" I wonder what he'll teach his daughters about men, what he'll tell them about his wild days and ways.

Many women have turned feminists, and I mean hardcore, card-carrying feminists, after breaching the gates of power or breaking through the glass ceiling only to be confronted by some card-carrying chauvinist questioning her every move and word. Many men have turned feminists, and I mean hardcore, deeply concerned feminists, upon the birth of a daughter. They look at the world through the eyes of a woman and don't always like what they see. They know what kind of boys their girls will face along the way because they've met them all, maybe even been one of the worst kind once, and there's nothing they can do about it now but be responsible, empathetic role models not just for their daughters but their sons as well.

I know men who wish women ruled the world. I know women who wish we did. Most people I know just wish we could get on with the business of living and loving without having to hide or exploit or abuse or excuse or resist or explain our own sex, or the opposite one. Making a power struggle of it is a monumental waste of time and resources and we're kind of running out of both on this planet so...truce?

Empowering your sisters benefits all you misters. There's nothing in this world we wouldn't do for you. You've capitalized on that. There's nothing in this world we can't do. Why not capitalize on that too.

All yours,

D.

All hands on deck

I know it's Friday and you're gearing up for a fun night and a funtastic weekend but it's also International Day of the Girl Child so could you do me a favor and lend me a hand in support of girls' right to quality education?

Thank you! Love you!!

Here's how:

Sign the petition

Raise your hand using Facebook

Or tweet a picture of you and/or your friends raising hands, just please make sure you add the hashtag #bcimagirl

Why should you care if some girl you don't know can't go to school or some woman you'll never meet can't work? In this economy, global, connected, skewed, screwed, can we really afford not to educate girls and employ women?

He-men and gentlemen, women are more than happy to carry their own weight, share the burden. We don't consider it your responsibility or right to act, speak or choose on our behalf so why do you? We're here to help. So let us. All of us. Each according to their talents. Can we really afford to waste a single pair of capable hands?

Zen and the art of car maintenance

Do anything interesting this weekend, dearest denizens? I spent quality time with my hot man from the cold installing winter tires. We're getting pretty fast at it. A couple of years from now we'll be ready to hit the NASCAR and Formula 1 circuit. What? It's not rocket science, just nuts and bolts. Two cars twice a year, a collaboration between husband, wife and proper tools, semiautomatic chores that free the mind for thinking and talking.

I don't know how much *quality* quality time we spend together, as the concept is generally understood. It makes every other moment sound somehow subpar when I rather enjoy those mundane moments of working together, side by side, doing things as a couple or as a family. "Nothing special" can be just as fun and meaningful as the Kodak moments, even more so. Look back on the moments you remember best and cherish most. Pretty ordinary things you did with friends and family? Yes? No? Wouldn't know, wasn't there?

Maybe Hubby and I are just lucky to enjoy each other's company so much. Or maybe we're clueless, so horribly settled that's all we know, but what I do know is daily life doesn't stress me out, it's a sanctuary. It's the outer world that has been driving me nuts lately, sweetie darlings. Bullying, bigotry, anti this and anti that. It makes me feel three hundred years old, as if no progress has been made, always two steps up and two steps back. I know it's not true. I know it's only my own frustration talking, but when someone starts talking about the True, Obvious, Natural Order of Things as ordained by this and that and the other... It makes me want to scream.

On a cerebral level, I can't help but admire such single-mindedness. On a purely amygdalaic one... You know you make me wanna/Shout/Kick my heels up and/Shout/Throw my hands up and/Shout/Throw my head back and/Shout! It's the stuff fundamentalism is made of. I grant you it is a rock, a solid foundation, on which to stand on. But on that bedrock stands a fortress of a fellow man unwilling to rethink or review. Between us stands a wall, the you're-either-with-me-or-against-me mentality.

I'm not with you, nor am I against you. I don't plot your demise or dream of revenge. [But when I'm Queen Sovereign of the Known Universe, you're first up for post-conflict exit counseling.] I hope for a higher common ground, a human league where everyone stands on the same footing, free and equal in dignity and rights, regardless.

So I scale that wall to see if you're still there and, sure enough, you always are. You retreat behind a monumental righteousness I could never take on because I'm not the Rock of bloody Gibraltar nor do I stand on one. What I do stand behind is the belief equal rights are human rights and everything else is unnatural selection. In that sense I'm as bad a monomaniac as you are.

The disowning, negating, dehumanizing, the rhetoric that sounds as old as it sometimes makes me feel...  It drives me up the Cliffs of Insanity, down the Pit of Despair. And then I remember slavery is almost gone, women's suffrage has mostly been won. Things have changed. They can only get better. With time, with patience, with small daily measures and grand gestures alike.

I bid you good night, dearest denizens. I bid these times good riddance.

Out with the new, in with the old

I popped into the arts and ents section of The Sunday Times Online looking for an article. Noticed the first Sunday Times EFG Private Bank Short Story Award instead, an article titled: "Erotica author in running for short story award." The caption beside the picture of said author tells us she is a former glamour model. Under the caption there is a link titled "A Terrible Story." By this time Dita is a) intrigued? b) disgruntled?, or c) both? I had never heard of writer Kay Sexton. If I've seen any glam shots of Ms. Sexton, I don't remember them. I fail to see a connection or the relevance.  

She is one among twenty writers long-listed. But is she on an equal footing? If your past endeavors were highlighted, if the reader was reminded you also write genre fiction under pen names while running against well-established authors, if the image gallery contains prize winners, renowned interviewers, novelists and playwrights, and your caption read neither writer nor author but former this and that, wouldn't you be able to just feel the love? What does it matter what she used to do? If they're not showcasing the long-listed story, what else are they doing besides being obvious?

Somebody tell me I'm seeing things that aren't there. Tell me they aren't screaming "Are the pages of our publication to be thus polluted?" between the lines. "A Terrible Story?" (The link takes you to a short story by Hanif Kureishi. "A Terrible Story" had nothing to do with Ms. Sexton's piece. It was all in my mind, not in the interesting layout. If it's indeed a noteworthy theme in a writer's career, they failed to mention how much sex factors in Kureishi's books. Love Kureishi. Hate double standards.)

Tell me I'm paranoid and I'll forever hold my peace. Until you do, I'll be feeling uneasy, the way I do every time someone suggests I'll never be taken seriously if I keep up writing genre along with literary fiction, every time I'm informed I'm wasting my time on entertainment.

You know what? It's not my mission in life to fulfill someone else's expectations or ambitions. I need to read and write in both the art and the entertainment segment, if you must make a distinction, and obviously there still is one, a very loaded at that. Fine. Just don't hang your hang-ups on me. I'm a selfish being doing what I want to do most because doing otherwise would be self-deception. So is saying that one form of writing is not as self-indulgent as the next, that some are more right or righteous somehow. There is no objective meter for these things, but there is room for everyone. Give it a rest. I promise to when you do.  

What was I looking for, before I got derailed? An article on the digitization of tens of thousands of nineteenth century works of fiction from the British Library. That means both the arts and the ents segment, my friends, everything from Victorian classics to the infamous serial stories, free of charge and segregation, hmm, provided you own a Kindle.