Saved by the cab driver

Does everyone who get on a plane feel like they always get stuck with the fatty who snores and smells? And with the entertainment system that fails to work? And with loud babies with over-attentive parentals? And the guy who laughs out loud with no hint of constraint?

Probably. Except, maybe not all at the same time.
To be fair, I was even lucky to make the flight, so perhaps I should be grateful that I’m not stuck at the airport hashing out another £700 for a flight. London Transport threw a huge wrench in my commute to Heathrow, as the bus ride – which usually only takes about 40 minutes, maximum – ended up taking 2 hours.

I look at the time on my laptop and I know there’s still a good nine hours left in the flight. The man behind me is laughing his head off watching a movie I can’t even load on my entertainment system. I had some wine to calm my annoyance but it didn't help (the food, however, did – it’s the only thing that’s currently keeping me from flying a different airline next time). There’s still the snoring fatty and the black screen of death inches ahead of me. My food tray hasn’t been removed so I prop it on the floor; at this point I could care less about how I behave on this flight.

The day had begun smoothly, or so I thought. I left the house several hours in advance and I was firstly greeted by a caring bus driver, who made sure that the elderly got their seats on the one-door bus. There were a few whom she especially took care of, like the overweight African woman in a knit sweater and a knit cap and her shopping trolley. The driver got out of her seat – London bus drivers rarely do – kicked the young chav out of his seat for her and hauled her shopping trolley in the luggage space, next to my suitcase. Impressive.

I was basking in this small miracle at the back of the bus, and noticed that a feeling of community had settled in amongst the commuters. The air was more relaxed, people smiled more and seemed open to conversation with the stranger sitting next to them.

And then, another miracle: Another African woman got on the bus with not enough credit on her Oyster card, and not enough small change. She held up a £20 bill that was useless to this bus driver who had no change. So a lady sitting by the door opened her wallet, produced a £2 coin, and handed it over. The donor smiled, content that she had done her share of good for the day. The African woman smiled graciously, thanking her as she walked past. Everyone felt good.

I try to remember that nice feeling of content as the black screen of death continues to stare at me. I selected “500 Days of Summer” an hour ago and left it loading (or playing? who knows) in hopes that it may decide to work sometime. It has yet to make that decision.

But on that bus bound for Victoria, I had reflected in the greatness of what had just happened – people helping out, not in expectation of much in return other than a polite “Thank you,” and a feeling of charitable accomplishment. The bus was packed to its limits – at one point the driver declined an elderly woman as there was no possibility for maneuvering for seats – but no one complained, and I attributed this rare peace in the middle of London to the bus driver who had done the right thing at every stop.

My day took an undesired turn when the Travel for London (TFL) inspector boarded the bus. He slithered through the bus crowd with his small remote Oyster-card checker, and came across a dark-haired woman with dark khol around her eyes. “There’s no money on this card, ma’am,” the inspector said.

“Well I beep-ed it when I got on the bus,” the woman replied in a moderate, Middle Eastern accent.

“But there’s no money on this card, you see,” the inspector pointed at his remote. “Where did you get on?”

“By the hospital.” And so it went on.

He slithered back up towards the bus driver. “Do you remember that lady getting on the bus at St. Thomas’ Hospital?” The bus stopped and pulled over. All those people who had been so content and peaceful moments before got up in outrage.

While I failed to make out the subtleties of the conversation, I became aware of the lengthy process this woman’s Oyster card was causing, and pulled out my phone to shockingly face “11:15 am”. I had left at nine. My bag was due at the check-in counter by noon, and my flight was at one. And I was still in London. Panic quickly settled in and, seeing another bus approach behind us, I grabbed my suitcase – the woman and her shopping trolley were long gone by then – and hopped on to the bus parked behind.

Being caring and kind to the elderly is great but not when it delays the ride by an hour, and then only to be caught by an arrogant inspector whose sole raison d’etre is to find as many Oyster cards lacking credit as possible, I thought.

I laid my options out. Bus from Victoria to Paddington? No, I can’t trust London buses. Cab to Paddington and then Heathrow Express? No, there’s not enough time for that. It was 11:20 and I frantically jumped off the bus at Paddington.

Right, no time to waste, just get on a cab.

I sped across the bus station, and up to the first cab queuing by the station entrance. “Paddington?” I gasped.

The cab driver – I later learned his name was Alex – pulled his earphones out and nodded. I hopped in. “How many minutes will it take?”

“10 or 15, I’d say,” he replied.

I sighed in desperation. “Can you do it in 5?” The cab was already out the station and onto the road. I liked this driver.

“Where are you off to?”

“Heathrow. My flight’s at one and the bus driver took forever. I have to check my bag in at noon. I’m fucked. I’ve checked in already…” and I trailed off, realising I wasn’t saying anything in a logical order.

Alex looked at me cautiously through the rear mirrors, and stated, “I can get you to Heathrow by 12:05.” Then he looked ahead, as we approached the roundabout by Hyde Park. “Train or cab, miss? Your call but you have to call it now.”

I took a small breath. “Ok go for it. Take me to Heathrow.” The cab wound around and headed away from Hyde Park.

“My satellite thing tells me we’ll get there at noon, at 60 kilometers an hour. I’ll go 75 and we can try to get there by five-to. How does that sound?” He looked up.

“That would be amazing. I’ll give you a good tip if you can actually do that. I’m going to miss an international flight. No pressure.” Panic was back again. “But if you have any doubts, take me to the station.”

“The machine’s telling me noon right now. That’s what I’m going with. Okay?”

“Right…”

£65 and a futile phone call to Virgin Atlantic customer services later, it was 11:55 and I was at Terminal 3 in Heathrow. Getting on the main motorway ate up some nerve-hacking minutes, but while my fighting spirit noticeably deteriorated over the phone with the Indian customer services man, Alex had given me a confident thumbs-up through the rear mirror, conveying that I’ll be making my check-in deadline.

“Oh you’re good. You’re really good. You saved my day,” I said in relief, as we smoothly approached the terminal.

“You gotta trust the cab driver! You’ll have three minutes to get to the counter.” And he went on to explain how I wouldn’t have made it on the Heathrow Express, given the waiting time and the actual time that it takes to Heathrow – 25 minutes, not 15.

I grabbed his card, telling him I’d call him again in times of urgency. Then, dragging the suitcase out I sprinted to the Virgin Atlantic counter.

That was about three hours ago. I barely made it to the gate because the idiots at security didn’t know how to re-channel people into different security gates, causing the line I entered in to double in length by a simple, and yet so stupid, move of one line-divider. By the time I made it on to the plane, I was ready to sit back, relax, watch a movie and finally be at peace.

But, no. Snoring fatty. Dysfunctional entertainment system. Loud babies. What could go wrong now? A crash, maybe. I recalled a joking conversation with my colleague the day before:

“When you choose your seat on the plane, which seat do you go for?”

“I’m a window person. Always. My husband likes the aisle seat, so it should work out, technically. But these days there are three seats, so it becomes a bit of a problem,” she said.

I looked at the browser displaying the seat selection page. “Yeah, I dunno. I like the aisle because I hate waking people up to go to the bathroom.” Little did I know that I would be selecting the one seat in the entire cabin mercy to the black screen-fatty-baby combo.

“What! I hate being woken up. Kill or be killed, come on!” Thinking back, I should’ve opted to kill.

“Yeah but then there are other considerations,” I had pondered. “Like, if the plane were to crash, and split in half, then do I want to be on the back end of the plane or towards the front? And how many rows away from the nearest exit?”

“So many options…” she laughed.

I shiver at the thought.

And the man sitting behind me is laughing and shrieking again. The fatty continues to snore. The bastards.


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Responsible intelligence

It's been over a year since the collapse of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac (7 September), Lehman (15 September), and Washington Mutual (25 September). In reflecting, I solemnly made a resolution to myself that I would step off the bandwagon and encourage others to do the same.

Approximately a year ago, on a late night in the office, I remember my colleague being on the phone with a trader at one of the large banks, which has since been lucky enough to survive the global downturn. The trader had told my colleague, "This isn't good. Wait. This is very very bad." Similar statements of hopeless fear and utter panic were allegedly heard everywhere that night on Wall Street, in Canary Wharf, and every other financial district in the world.

Who knew that a year on, the markets would be back up and still functional? Sure, there are ample liquidity problems and trading strategies are now more vanilla than ever, but a year ago, the financial services industry thought, This is it. The world is over.

Regardless of whether or not we call the current downturn a recession or depression, no one would disagree that fourth quarter 2008 was some of the most panicky months the world has seen in decades. Emergency measures were taken by several governments and central banks, including an interest rate cut down to pretty much zero. Money has been lent, guarantees were given (albeit arguably belatedly), and now the hottest topic is about figuring out a regulatory framework for the financial industry going forward.

The best thing about time is that it keeps going, and the great thing about that is that we can now look back and think - critically - about what happened and why.

The general media has been horrible about this, in a time when they should be the ones spearheading a more critical approach. One could understand the polemical stance the Times took last October, when one journalist concluded:

The stresses in the financial markets partly reflect bad policy decisions that made sense at the time - such as central banks keeping interest rates low after 9/11, and owing to the effect of Chinese imports in restraining inflation. But this time, there is a justifiable anger at the insouciance of the bankers, who irresponsibly exploited those decisions. The demonology has new life in it.

But recent news about the G20, proposing to regulate bankers' pay, coverage of the Kraft/Cadbury merger, to the private lives of certain bankers, continue to sustain this so-called 'demonology'. And it's not helping the situation, at all.

To be fair, certain media outlets have always been rather sensationalist, because it no doubt brings in the dough. In a time when advertisements are being cut, and less people are spending on superfluous things, most media firms and their journalists are likely to make an extra effort to make news sound more scandalous, more evil, more conspiratorial, and therefore more of a 'must-read' item - a bigger deal - than it actually is. If that's what some media do, then so be it; not every outlet can be a saint.

However, I came upon a rather shocking phenomenon recently, when in conversations with my friends about the financial crisis, they came up with some of the most uninformed, uncritical statements about the causes and who was to blame. According to them, bankers were to be despised, the fault was at the bulge-bracket banks, none of the governments' emergency measures were effective, and so on and so forth.

The shocking part was, although I give them the benefit of the doubt that most of them have done their reading, my friends all happen to be very well-educated, and ambitious, critical thinkers. All of us were brought up and educated that way - to be critical of our sources, the things that we read, hear, and see. And yet a good handful of them had jumped onto the bandwagon in the last year with the rest of the world, pointing accusatory fingers at the towers along Wall Street or in Canary Wharf, or to No. 10 Downing Street or the White House in DC, and all those who dwelt, left, or continue to dwell in them.

But I say: GET OFF THE BANDWAGON. Be responsible about your intelligence. It's been a year now, and it's about time we look at the so-called "Great Recession" with a more critical eye. Look past the headlines and the polemical opinion columns, the supposedly less-polemical editorials, even the blogosphere - yes, even this one, too! - and the likes of Wikipedia. Step back and take a critical - not skeptical - view: What caused the financial crisis?

To point my own finger on one of many broader causes, I will outwardly wonder about what is going through the heads of the CFOs, the CEOs, the top regulators and central bankers of the world, if some of my smartest friends have ditched the recognition that we no longer live in an era where causation is linear. In fact, the human species probably never has lived in an era where causation was entirely linear; we just chose to see it that way. And now, with the tangible effects of globalisation, we can see with our naked eyes that causation is circular, networked, and widespread. In short, there is no one cause to an effect; there are many, many more than we can probably fathom.

No single bank or trader, or hedge fund, could have crippled the entire financial system in the way it was last September. The subprime mortgage crisis preceded it. So clearly, that was a factor. US interest rates were kept low all through out it. That's also another factor. What was once simply hedging instruments became tradable on an exchange - also another factor. The list is endless.

And what are the regulators now going back to? More stress tests, more financial modelling, more scientific and mathematical analysis of trades, companies, and risk. But, do they not see what they're doing? What have they learned? Where is the critical thinking, the investigative spirit? So I will boldly point a finger to one (of many, to be precise) cause, right here and now: lack of critical thinking.

We relied on financial models to tell us how a trade would perform in the future. We have, thus far, relied on stress tests to find out how much stress a bank can undergo before its legs give away and the whole thing comes tumbling down. One can even distill this trend on hiring patterns: most of the financial services vacancies advertised will ask for numerical skills, or some background in finance, risk management, or credit risk analysis.

Clearly, we haven't learned anything. As one market participant recently told me, "Investment bankers have the memory of a dragon fly." But that probably applies more broadly than we'd like to admit. The lack of critical thinking prevalent amongst my peers, goes all the way up to the CEOs and CFOs and CIOs and regulators, central bankers, and to the governments' finance ministers. The exact approach - reliance on modelling and number-crunching - that we thought heralded the credit boom in the mid-2000's, was the exact thing that turned the boom into a crunch, and is now the exact thing that we're turning to once again to bring about a boom. Needless to say, it's more likely that it will simply stretch out the recession, than resolving it.

Most importantly, demonising bankers, or certain banks, could end up hammering the last nail in the coffin, so to speak. The global financial industry currently stands at a crossroads: we can choose to learn from the mistakes, learn from the ways certain financial instruments and their investors (mis)behaved, and rebuild the industry from there, or we can choose to condemn those instruments and all involved in their (mis)behaviour, install rules and regulations, and effectively, start from scratch. Hence, as one regulator aptly put it, the regulations we adopt today will have no bearing on future financial crises. Of course: if we take the latter road, we are effectively reinventing the wheel.

Some of us are educated about certain things in the world more than others. I have no doubt that the ability to think critically about causal relationships - actively asking oneself, what is the cause and what is the effect - is an acquired skill, and a cherished one at that. But for those of us who do have the means to understand what happened, who have the means to read a newspaper article and think twice about it, should. Rights come with responsibilities, and being responsible about your acquired intelligence, is one of them.
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Money - or ambition? - and the City

A friend of mine pointed out last night that, in the last year in New York City, he has been shocked by the way his female friends have discussed their human relationships. To quote,

The typical American 'Sex and the City' girl [sees] the boyfriend as a 'deal', and going out together as 'a return on investment', and so forth... The city sport for these girls is to capture the richest guy.

Although I was quick to denounce the so-called 'Sex and the City' girl, this morning I found myself reconsidering the topic, mainly as a result of my own realised habits. What exactly is the thought process behind this typified girl, and how prevalent and common is it? (Note: all 'he' and 'him' written below are interchangeable with 'she' and 'her')

To be sure, it only took a second to mentally create the image of what my friend labeled as the 'Sex and the City' girl: she is the shopper at sales (because no branded item is clearly worth more than $50), the occasional mani-pedi client, the yoga- or pilate-enthusiast after work, who has at least a bachelor's degree from a reknown university and a decently paying job, who attends the sunday brunch with the girlfriends, and then, over a cosmopolitan or a martini or a glass of red wine, talks about her recent (and most likely, failed) date with a man of similar social status, background, and mentality. The immediate topic of discussion becomes his occupation, his firm, his income bracket, and his interests.

Like I said, I was quick to tell him that I'm increasingly weary of people who describe human relationships in market terminology, and that my humble opinion was that while human psychology has much to do with the way the macroeconomy functions, macroeconomic theory and the world of finance can only help explain a small aspect - albeit a crucial component - of human behaviour.

To be fair, I noted, for the longest time men have commodified women, perhaps not necessarily in market/financial terminology but through other means. Only with the rise and subsequent radicalisation of feminism - subversively through media outlets like Sex and the City, Calvin Klein adverts, and maybe more officially through political activism of sorts - did women start commodifying men, at least in the western world, and hence you get stuff like dinner or gifting as a "return on investment" and by proxy, the whole obsession over who pays the bill at the end of the evening, etc etc. So in this way both parties are at fault for the mass commodification of genders.

The primary reason why I'm weary of relationships being described that way is because it glosses over all the important stuff about human relationships (whether it's familial, friendship, mentorship, etc) and prioritises all the stuff that really doesn't matter. They take the icing and forget about the cake. And it's quite mediocre and unfortunate that the 'cake' falls by the wayside.

And one more thing - people who care so little to put their relations into such terms often have little respect for others, let alone for themselves, constructing this false sense of security. And that really bothers me. "Who do you think you are?" becomes the imminent question.

But then, if you 'strip' the 'Sex and the City' girl, so to speak, you come down to a simple, naked fact: we always weigh the costs against the benefits, and take in the pros with the cons. The questions we ask ourselves make a pretty long list: Does he have a good job? Is he good at what he does? How much does he earn? How does he dress? Where does he live? Where did he go to school? Will he really call? Will he call back? Where will we go for our date? Will he pay the dinner bill? And so on and so forth, you get the idea.

Surely this decision-making process isn't such an abominable act?

After some thought I came to the conclusion that there are at least two ways of looking at this. On the one hand, we may all just be obsessed with someone's job title or income bracket or their material assets residing in their apartment. Perhaps after a few years of failed, disappointing, or somewhat mediocre human relationships (friendship, romantic, mentorship, or whatever) we may find both security and solace in someone who shares similar values. Even better would be a situation in which the benefit outweights the cost - they supplement whatever you lack, be it money, status, etc.

On the other hand, maybe everyone actually realises that the less-monetary characteristics are crucial, and yet fail to communicate that recognition as effectively as they truly could. In short, the answers to the aforementioned list of questions merely become indicators of non-monetary characteristics. The fact that he has a good job at a good company, earns good money, and is good at what he does could just mean that he is ambitious. The fact that he calls back, has chosen a restaurant for the date and will pay the bill at the end of the night might indicate roots in chivalry and consideration for their partner.

This latter view would mean that even though we suck at communicating it, we are all actually just attracted to the causes of the effect - the underlying characteristics that result in a good job, a nice apartment, and fabulous style. Of course, all these indicators could also be negative. They could be indicative of greed, immaturity, selfishness, disrespect, etc. But that's not the point. Because more importantly, the fact that we hope that a good job, good pay, and a good apartment are all indicative of ambition, chivalry, or whatever, speaks to the underlying values of the judge (i.e. us). We want someone with ambition, intelligence, compassion (to take chivalry more broadly across both genders), consideration, respect, and then if they have a good job, good pay, good apartment and fabulous style in addition, well, that's just great, isn't it?

What has happened is that, at some point in time, the way we communicate all these things that we want became warped, so that we now convey our preference for certain indicators - the money, the sex - first, before we convey our preference for the relevant characteristic.

This may have been a result of a historically and socially implanted positive relationship between a good job and good values, even though the wiser in us all inherently know that that's a very flimsy correlation. Maybe it is exacerbated by the stresses of the daily life, the pressures of the working world, the jade that comes with age, and the insecurity we feel at the end of the day. Maybe we just want it all - the job and the pay with the ambition, the intelligence, the respect and compassion combined with the great body and style. And I'm not about to speculate on why we want all these things. But regardless of whether this is inevitable or preventable, admirable or dispicable, it's certainly something to be aware of.

And maybe we shouldn't be so quick to judge the 'Sex and the City' girl/boy as a pebble in a pile of rubble - it may just become a self-fulfilling prophecy.
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The world needs a little bit of the English

Reading this post's title, you may gasp and whinge at the colonial undertones, and bemoan, "Oh no you didn't!" But, contrary to a glancing moment's thought, a little bit of appreciation - and maybe, adoption - of the English mindset may do a bit of good in a world increasingly full of radicalisation, the so-called 'clash of civilizations', and fear.

I was brought to the attention of a particular article in the Guardian this morning. My flatmate (or, roommate, in North America) forwarded me the article, written by one of my favourite comedians, Dara O Briain. Dara, if you've never seen him in action on Mock the Week or Live at the Apollo, is a broad-chested, tall (at least from what I can tell on BBC iPlayer) Irishman who, despite casual allegations that he looks like a member of the Russian mafia, to me looks like a very huggable bear. An innocent one at that.

In this particular article, he's collected his conclusions about the English, their country, their behaviour, their habits. Like Dara, England and its largest city, London, were both foreign to me before 2007. My image of England pre-2007, which consisted of Princess Diana, the Beatles, Blair, David/Victoria Beckham, Hugh Grant and Bridget Jones' Diary, was as warped and bizarre as Dara's image of England derived from That's Life! So, when I did arrive that nippy September morning at London Heathrow, dragging my way to the Picaddilly line with all my luggage, one can only imagine - and I'll be honest here - the reality check, the disappointment, and the wonder as to why I chose England, over all the other countries in the world, to spend the next half a decade in. In the weeks that followed, I became more than just privy to the drinking, the smoking, the dirty streets, the packed buses and unventilated (and un-air conditioned!!!), tardy or broken down tube trains, and of course, the shock that not all English men had posh accents and looked/acted like Hugh Grant. And it was all too different from the England I had imagined.

Yet, the price I paid for the damn-expensive piece of paper from one university did have some effect on my merciless, and probably naive, judgment on England. I became acutely aware that the world is a complicated place that is becoming unimaginably convoluted with the process called globalisation. The knooks and crannies of what such a process entails, I won't get into here. But I will say that, with that complication comes a lot of fear and uncertainty. We fear resorting to relativism, because that could undermine the 'core' values we stand for. But at the same time, we fear the radicalisation and the fundamentalism that stands at the other end of the spectrum, because that, too, would only serve to undermine, rather than support, the long-standing values of the Western world.

So what can one do? How do we deal with it all? Take Dara's joke about how Londoners reacted in the wake of the July 2005 bombings:

The media reacted as if the attacks would, or should, be greeted like 9/11 had been in New York. Of course, the attack was nothing like 9/11 and besides... this is London.

They've had the Blitz and then there was the IRA...

In fact, the response in London to the attacks was much more: "There's been a bomb on the Piccadilly line!" (Long, thoughtful pause and then, like a problem being solved...) "Well, I can get the Victoria line..."

It's this comparatively non-chalant attitude about the things that happen in the world around us that I think is increasingly important to foster. While Dara's joke and the reality it points to may be an exaggeration, it's the sense of being reasonable, and realistic about events and people that perhaps, we should all learn to adopt.

The 'realism' I note here can also be seen in English soap operas. As one flatmate recently pointed out to me, whereas North American soaps are full of slim, relatively good-looking people with perfect white teeth and glowing skin who've all had the lucky genes of also-relatively good-looking parentals and thus - here's the key - only represent a very small portion of the North American population, the cast of English soaps are all ordinary people. Sure, there may be a few over-the-top glamourites in there, but on the whole, they look like normal people. And there's something comforting in that.

In writing about the appreciation of the English, one cannot purposely overlook the undersides: the binge-drinking culture. This is where my North American health-conscious mentality kicks in. Binge-drinking can't be good for you. It just can't. Consuming that much alcohol in that short period of time, regardless of how many alcohol-processing enzymes you've cultivated over generations, simply cannot be conducive for the health of your liver. And cholestrol levels.

Or the subtle ignorance that comes with the blurbs that come when an English team is beaten in football: "This, in a sport we invented." As Dara rightly points out, the English never invented football (and the Americans never invented basketball or baseball) - "They codified it, which is a different thing altogether":

You didn't invent football because you didn't invent the ball, or kicking, or fields. We should only be grateful that the Victorians didn't gather together in a room and write the first rules for the use of the wheel, or fire, so that you can claim credit for them as well...Villages have been dragging, pulling, kicking and running against each other for millennia; you just happened to be the ones with an empire when the upper class took an interest.

Well put, Dara, well put.

England once had an empire, a vast one at that, and that historical fact cannot be erased. But as Dara says, the superiority-complex that arises from a historical - not present - fact can't do much good in the complex world that is the present-now, and the English should "snap out of this" (as should other countries, too). But there is something to be said for the humility and realistic spirit that lies on the flip side of that coin. The ability to carry on without being enraptured by the effects of a bombing (although this begs the question as to what would happen if Big Ben suffers an attack not from an alien invasion but from another country), or to be truthful to reality in representing human drama (although perhaps 'truth' is not exactly the objective of American shows, and is questionable as to 'truth' can be used in the same sentence as 'soap opera' to being with) can be indicative of other elements of society and human behaviour. It really comes down to keeping things in context and perspective. And despite all bemoanings, it's a mentality modern societies need, and there's no harm in turning to the English for that.
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Property rights: overrated?

A friend of mine posted on an interesting topic, and I thought it might be worth actually posting a response to theoncominghope's most recent post, "Piracy: Capitalism at work."

While I agree that piracy involves stealing and violating rights, remains a major concern amongst almost all sectors, and for the person whose product has been pirated the experience is far from pleasant, I'm not sure if one can make the leap from 'piracy' to the 'annihilation' of property rights.

For example, in the context of pharmaceuticals, I think you have to look at why piracy occurs to begin with - that is, the unavailability of certain pharmaceuticals. If everyone had access to most drugs when they needed it for a reasonable cost, I don't think you would have the same kind of problem of 'piracy' (or in this case, violation of intellectual property rights). On the one hand, such a situation would virtually nullify any incentive to reproduce a drug because it wouldn't make economic sense; if you can purchase it at a reasonable price/cost, then why spend the time, effort, and money to reproduce it? On the other hand, the same situation would also incentivise those who think they can reproduce the drug at a lower cost, supply it at the same price as the original, and make a profit.

In either of those scenarios, property rights aren't completely annihilated, because while pirated products do tend to find themselves distributed widely, the market for the original product continues to exist (albeit arguably in a less dominant manner than in previous generations). The products and processes used to create that product have been adapted. And for all intents and purposes, until a new form of technology comes along (which is probably more just a matter of time), or the downsides of a less-quality product are heartfelt by its consumers, the effects of one act of piracy are quite temporary.

This, of course, is not to say that the various consequences of these actions are any less significant, and I will get to this point shortly.

Either way, whether or not property rights are destroyed in either of the abovementioned scenarios is a mull point, because neither of those situations currently exist in the pharmaceutical sector. Certain pharmaceutical products are either unreadily available because the cost of production is too high for mass production, or are mass-produce-able but supply is limited, demand is uncontrolled and unsatiated, thus artificially pushing up prices, allowing companies to make a large profit. My humble opinion is that, given the political economy of pharmaceuticals, a little bit of piracy might actually do some good.

And to quickly address the profit-making incentive: government subsidies for R&D coming out of taxation, and removal of any taxes in the production of pharmaceuticals.

I suppose the problem is that from my macro perspective, piracy, or the infringement of (I)PR, or whatever you want to call it, is actually not such a 'big deal', for a lack of a better phrase. The reality is, much like financial services regulation, people will always find new ways to produce something for a lesser cost. Not even the prospect of the death penalty, or national deportation, will stop them; in fact, the higher you raise the stakes, the more profitable, and more criminal, of an industry it will become. If you really wanted to address 'piracy', you have to look at what incentives are, either by chance or purpose, in place that are driving certain people to forge a product.

The other issue I have with the violation of IPP/property rights in general from a more philosophical standpoint (wince!), is our continued obsession with the territoriality of material things. It's not that I've turned into a materialism-hating hippie overnight, but that the obsession itself is unsustainable. The reason why I take issue is because the world is changing. The best example is media. In about two or three decades, there will no longer be CD's - in fact, they will be super-expensive to produce and buy. Around the same time, broadsheets will disappear, as will consumer magazines, books, concert tickets, and flyers. My not-very-well-thought-out but gut-feeling is that the pulp and paper industry will actually turn into a consumer discretionary sector from the non-cyclical industrial sector it is now. This is to say that paper will become a luxury item, and there will only be a select few companies that will produce it. In fact, it's already starting. A Canadian newsprint company, AbitibiBowater, filed for bankruptcy in April this year, because newsprint consumption in the US fell off the cliff by 29%.

The music industry has already changed in this way. We went through a period where music became a hotly demanded commodity, and it was a ludicrous business on the production side to enter as long as you were at the right place at the right time with the right shit. On the consumer side, before MP3's became rampantly distributed, we all had to buy CD's or tapes, which we then developed the technology to copy at home and then re-distribute to our friends. But with the advent of MP3s and other alternative digital sound files that are easily distributable, CDs, tapes, and records became massively expensive to produce, and hugely inconvenient to purchase. The demand for music hardware (CDs) from consumers went down, pushing down supply (as well as the incentive to supply), while the production side of the music industry wanted to maintain the same level of income and profit. The business model is completely unsustainable. Something has to give.

Unfortunately, it will remain unsustainable until the music industry figures out a different way to fix the imbalance, or else the economy will do it on its own by scrapping the current music industry-model all together. Most likely - and this is where I stand with theoncominghope - not only will musicians have to be more creative in the way they produce and distribute their work, but their expectations for profit will also have to come down, especially given that the advertising industry will also undergo a massive change in the next few years. What the greater implications are of such changes - well, I'll leave it to your imagination to speculate.

Now, to address the more tangible issues arising from piracy: the micro perspective. Even though I basically say above in a more nuanced way, that property rights are somewhat overrated, the protection of individual rights to property ownership is quite important. In the far, tiny land of East Timor, one of the major obstacles to infrastructural development and peace, no less, is the lack of a legal framework about property rights. During its conflict with Indonesia, the Timorese underwent a series of uprooting from, and redistribution of, land the people formerly lived on. In post-conflict Timor-Leste, people continue to fight - physically and legally (in the latter case, as much as they could) - over ownership of certain pieces of land. It doesn't help that the country had been in conflict for so long that not only are 'official' records unavailble, the people themselves don't exactly have matching accounts of their ownership. The cases are also exacerbated by each party's familial (read: ancestral) attachment to the land and are wrapped up in many layers of tradition and practice with regards to conflict resolution. Many NGOs and IOs working on consultation programmes, therefore, have unilaterally pointed to the lack of property rights law as one of the most signficant obstacles to peace in Timor-Leste.

So at the micro-level, property rights are far from overrated. However, whether they are implicated in the music industry or in a small, undeveloped, post-conflict country, the importance of active regulation of property rights should be emphasised. But, that's not to say that you can just overburden them with regulation. The question to consider is the type of incentives, to place where, and when, and also recognising that even with adequate incentives, people will find ways to get around it. The fear is not underregulation, but overregulation. Some freedom - read: leniency and ability to change - will be key.
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February Classicals

Everyday I wake up wishing it were spring. I feel as though this winter has gone on too long this year.

But a cold, blistering month doesn't mean a dull one - in addition to Vancouver 2010 shenanigans (which is still happening - details to come soon) and Chocolate Appreciation Day, London's three symphonies (plus Philharmonia Orchestra, resident at the Southbank Centre) will be hosting a handful of wonderful concerts.

Now, to set the record straight, in my frank opinion last night's London Philharmonic playing Sibelius' 2nd symphony was possibly the best concert of the year. You can't get any better. Whenever an orchestra has Sibelius 2 lined up in the season, there are very few other shows in the year that top it - it's always been that way. I won't go into the details of how and why the symphony is so great, but an immediate standing ovation for four rounds of clapping should be proof enough that somehow that symphony strikes a chord - no pun intended - to all those present.

I say 'possibly' though, because - lucky London in 2010 - it seems like everyone is playing Sibelius this year. A rarity, because Sibelius is not easy to play. London Phil is at the moment in the process of playing Symphonies 1-7 by Sibelius. And fortunately for all who missed last night's show, Philharmonia Orchestra will be hitting up Sibelius 2 at the end of May. And now that I look at May's schedule, that's going to be a very exciting month for classical music..

But back to February. As usual I attach short commentaries on the pieces, and make an X stars out of 5 recommendation - obviously the more stars, the better. No need to reply unless you are buying tickets. I've found my favorite seat at Royal Festival Hal though - row Z in the left or right Side Stalls, so that is where I'll be buying most of my tickets going forward.


1. 11 February 2010 7:30 pm

Philharmonia Orchestra @ Royal Festival Hall
Mahler's 2nd Symphony

MAHLER: Symphony No. 2, "Resurrection"

Tickets: £8 - £38
Available on Southbank Centre website

Recommendation: 3.5 stars out of 5


2. 14 February 2010 3:00 pm (OR 17 February 2010 7:30pm, see below)

Philharmonia Orchestra @ Royal Festival Hall
Valentine's Day Gala Concert

TCHAIKOVSKY: Fantasy Overture, Romeo & Juliet
BRUCH: Violin Concerto No.1 in G minor
KHACHATURIAN: Spartacus - Adagio
DVORAK: Romance in F minor for violin, Op. 11
BIZET: Carmen Suite

Tickets: £8 - £38
Available on Southbank Centre website

Recommendation: 3 stars out of 5


3. 16 February 2010 7:30 pm

Steve Reich @ Queen Elizabeth Hall
Reich Drumming - International Chamber Music Season

Lots of drumming - of all sorts, I imagine.

Tickets: £9 - £25
Available on Southbank Centre website

Recommendation: 3 stars out of 5


4. 17 February 2010 7:30 pm (OR 14 February 2010 3:00pm, see above)

London Philharmonic Orchestra @ Royal Festival Hall
Romeo & Juliet

TCHAIKOVSKY: Fantasy Overture, Romeo & Juliet
PROKOFIEV: Piano Concerto No. 1
PROKOFIEV: Romeo and Juliet, Op. 64 - excerpts

Tickets: £9 - £38 (going quickly!)
Available on Southbank Centre website

Recommendation: 3 stars out of 5


My Two Pence:
I was also going to add to the list an LSO concert on 24 February, playing Berlioz' Symphonie Fantastique as it's a really nice one to listen to, but unfortunately tickets are totally sold out for that show. It's coupled with Mendolssohn's Violin Concerto and I didn't think that people would know about Berlioz, so the "SOLD OUT" sign came as a surprise. Sorry, guys.

The month, however, kicks off with Mahler's Second Symphony. This symphony, called "Resurrection," is probably one of the most famous of Mahler's symphonies. It was his first big piece, and ponders the meaning of life, death, afterlife, you get the idea - hence the title. It's a big piece - Mahler usually likes to take it to a larger level - and requires an expanded orchestra plus a choir. 10 French horns and 8 timpani! There's even an organ involved, plus a brass and percussion ensemble off stage. Fun stuff. Tickets are flying out the door for the good and cheap seats, so get one fast - my favourite seat in the house has been taken, so I will be retreating to the balcony level. £8 tickets are still available!

As you may have noticed, the groups are taking advantage of Universal Chocolate Appreciation Day this year (do they do this every year? I don't know) and embarking on two separate compositions of our beloved Shakespeare's mother of all cliches, Romeo & Juliet. Don't ask me what the link is between chocolate and Shakespeare. Between Tchaikovsky's and Prokofiev's versions, I prefer Prokofiev because it's more subtle and delicate and moving, but Tchaikovsky's is, as he always is, quite bold and complex. I know this is starting to sound like a wine tasting class but perhaps this will be a good opportunity for you to settle the preference once and for all - you'd never do such a thing otherwise. I will warn that LPO's Feb. 17 show is selling out quite quickly - people love cliches - but like all cliches there's some truth and value in them and I'd definitely say either the Feb. 14 matinee or the Feb. 17 evening show (but not both, that would be too much) are worth a visit. Call me a scrooge but I will most likely take the Feb. 17 show because I don't want to be surrounded by smooching, chocolate-smothered couples on Feb. 14, and prefer enjoying my own Green & Black's dark chocolate bar cleanly sans tongue and saliva, thank you very much.

I know that one guy and a percussion ensemble doesn't count as an orchestra. But Steve Reich is possibly one of the greatest composers alive at the moment, and for us percussion students, he's pretty close to an idol. He'll be putting on a show of contemporary percussion music (which could get crazy, I admit) with a very strong group of percussionists and a voice ensemble, but if you want a taste of something different this month - this is like taking a vodka martini amidst all the chocolate - this might be for you.
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Because we wanted to have the cake and eat it, too

Monday morning was subdued because North America was still on the beaches for Labour Day. That didn't keep media coverage off the meeting of G20 finance ministers and central bankers held in London over the weekend, ahead of the G20 meeting in Pittsburgh later this month.

The FT outlined the agreements attained at the meeting:

The G20 meeting agreed [on] three main points: banks must raise much more capital once the financial crisis has passed; complex financial institutions should develop “living wills” to plan for their unwinding; and banks should be required to retain some portion of loans they repackage and sell as asset-backed securities.

Allow me to quickly rephrase that in simple English.

The second point mentioned is simple enough: in case a financial institution goes bust, they should outline the ways in which various instruments and deals should be cleaned up, or in financial jargon, "unwound."

The third point, while it may sound the most complicated, is also quite simple: banks should have the actual stuff they sell, deal, and work with (in this case, loans).

The most complicated of the three is actually the first point regarding raising more capital, which deals with the amount of debt (capital structure) financial institutions have. Of a given bank's debt, about 92% of it is made of bonds and other debt instruments. About 4% is made of stocks (shareholders' equity), and is there as a 'cushion' as deemed by regulation. The remaining 4% is what is called bank regulatory capital in Europe (in the US, it's called trust-preferred securities, or trups). This stuff has both debt- and equity-like characteristics.

Without going into too much more detail, the basic point of note here is that bank regulatory capital was categorically created and adopted in order to at once appease regulators' concerns about how well-capitalised banks are, and appeal to investors. In other words, everyone wanted the cake and eat it, too.

To be grossly simplistic, one could quite easily argue that most causal elements of the current financial crisis came down to this one, cliche statement about having the cake and eating it. To be more specific, it was about having the cake - not paying for it - and then eating it - and then getting away with it.

Take mortgage borrowers, for instance. A telling article in the Valentine issue of the New Yorker this year illustrated the literal foreclosure of the state of Florida. A university professor aptly described the situation as a "Ponzi scheme" where the US' hottest real estate market spiraled into a disaster. People bought homes with easy money from the banks, but when property prices fell off the cliff and people lost their jobs, no one was able to repay the mortgages. Apparently, convincted criminals were running around the market scene as well. Hence,

Fort Myers real-estate agent named Marc Joseph tells the writer, “Greed and easy money. That was the germ.”

Of course, the mortgage lenders are to blame as well. Loose credit history checks - or even none at all - and financial unplanning from irresponsible financial advisory allowed borrowers to get away with terms that defy what I would think of as common sense. You don't spend beyond what you don't have or earn - having been on a $1 per month allowance up until the age of 15, financial prudence was something my mother was very strict about. But, given high incidences of credit card spending - combined with the so-called American Dream of home ownership with white picket fences, lush-green front yards and a golden retriever puppy - perhaps the average American consumer is far from prudent.

Here, the role of the mortgage borrower and lender - what I think of as the key trigger to the subsequent fall of already-wobbly dominos - is a microcosm of the greater picture: people had the cake, didn't or couldn't pay for it, but ate it anyway, and for the longest time, didn't own up to it. And this kind of irresponsible behaviour was widespread, from the individual consumer all the way up to the private equity firms and the bulge-bracket banks. So no, the Goldman Sachs and the Morgan Stanleys of the world did not single-handedly bring down the entire global financial system - such are incredulously outlandish statements made in the blaming game, and completely ignores the fundamental cause of the financial turmoil (irresponsible borrowing, spending, and lending) and more broadly, the essence of how our economy functions. That is, capitalism.

Capitalism, which is essentially what the majority of the financial world operates in, is based on the one basic rule of supply and demand. Unfettered, efficient capitalism has at its core this simple rule that if supply goes up, demand comes down, and vice versa. And for this reason, like it or not, much of how the economy moves is based not just on tangible changes in supply or demand, but also the perception of these changes by the broader market, as well as by individual consumers.

The crux of capitalism is the freedom to supply and demand; that is, no one can tell me whether or not I can buy a pair of shoes, or produce a pair of shoes, over a pair of glasses. An efficient capitalist economy relies heavily on this liberty. But, as much as we'd like to rely upon the individual and collective conscience in maintaining an orderly and civil society, there is something to be said about the fragility of that conscience - whether it be moral, ethical, whatever. Laws and regulations govern human behaviour by permitting and prohibiting certain actions within society. Whether we had hoped too far or unrealistically expected market participants to exercise self-restraint is a mull point; the fact of the matter is, without rules or boundaries - and more importantly, a widespread perception of them - people will always look to have their cake and eat it, too. If laws have been around for most of human history to tell us what we can do and what we cannot do in a social context, it should be obvious by now that something fairly similar should exist in an economic context.

This isn't to say that burdening the financial system with piles of regulation is the solution. Going forward, rules and regulations for this particular industry will have to tread a fine line of optimum efficiency. Not an easy task, at all. But in a system where most of its participants have developed habits of having the cake and eating it without owning up to the costs, some re-training will have to occur.
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Commodified complacency

Earlier this week, one Google Alert email, among the bazillion of others that bombard my work inbox daily, caught my attention: “The state of dating on Wall Street,” it read. The link led me to a Fortune Magazine article called “Wall Street’s $25,000 matchmaker.” Compared to the other bland (but sometimes exciting in a geeky sort of way) items I read in my morning hours, this one seemed much more entertaining.

As it turned out – entertaining it was, but at the same time, unreal. A matchmaker that costs that much money, to me, seems to undermine the whole idea of a matchmaker, not least because it’s simply idiotic to hash out $25,000 (that’s one year’s worth of university education in some places!) to find someone to date. Doesn’t the fact that you would pay $25K for a dating service say something quite significant about yourself, beyond how much discretionary spending money you have? Or has certain parts of society reached a stage where spending thousands of dollars to find a good match is totally justifiable by reasons such as lack of time available, lack of opportunities to meet people – and what does that say about society itself?

Of all the industries to be considered as consumer discretionary, one would think that third-party dating services would be one of them. But apparently, such is not the case and south Manhattan is by no means the exception to the rule. Because when times get tough, purse strings get tighter but the heart gets looser. Or, at least more amenable to romantic possibilities. Internet dating – Match.com, OKCupid, DatingDirect, eHarmony, and the like – has seen more subscribers, for reasons ranging from more time available to devote to one’s private life, a perceived need for a supportive companion, and a means to split costs.

That’s all well and fine, but a matchmaking service that costs $25,000 seems rather crazy, especially considering the insight Samantha Daniels is giving. To the question, “Now that "I'm a hedge-funder" no longer does the trick, how would you advise bankers to market themselves romantically?” Daniels gave the following answer:

When you meet a woman, you should go back to the basics of who you are as a person – how you live your life, your interests. But it's also good to let someone know that you're doing well and have a stable job in this environment. The number one thing women are attracted to is confidence.

Right. In my humble opinion, that there are people out there who need to be reminded that on your first date, you don’t firstly talk about your income level (“I have an annual salary of $100,000 plus a $50,000 bonus”) and your job title (“I’m vice president of ___”) and the company you work for (“I work for JP Morgan, which is one of the few first-tier investment banks left in the world”), seems simply bizarre. Obviously, if that’s your starting point, then you’ve effectively narrowed yourself down to a pool of people who are looking for exactly those qualities, not the ones who look beyond that. So follows the question, “How do you convey financial stability without handing over tax statements?” and the answer, “My clients have a lot of toys and own a lot of homes. But if you tell someone that you own your own plane on a first date, it sounds like you're overcompensating for something.” Hammer that last nail in the coffin, why don’t you.

Of course, if that’s what you’re looking for, then good for you. By choosing a service such as Samantha’s Table, one does filter out those who allegedly wouldn’t be described as “ultra-successful, ultra-busy, ultra-cultured, and the ultra-educated.” But clearly, Daniels’ clients are not all looking to dig gold (or are they?), as the fact that her clients would pay $25K shows that people are doing whatever they can to find a good match, and one of such criteria – not the only – happens to hinge on income level (see “Money – or ambition? – and the City”).

What ultimately really bothers me about the proliferation of ‘exclusive’ dating services is that, it’s another way by which social categorization is effectuated. It’s subversive because it plays on our tendency towards the familiar, our fear of the unfamiliar, and our preference for convenience. It produces, encourages, and glorifies a social structure that is really based on purchasing power but is masked with labels like ‘success’, ‘culture’, and ‘intelligence’.

Surely, there is nothing wrong with someone seeking another of similar social standing, income, education, background, along with interests, lifestyles, hobbies, and the like. Just as our nature to greed, to hunger, and to reason can never be fully satisfied, nor will our tendency to stick with what we know, seek stability, and choose the easier way out. And to be sure, the subject of these actions can vary: we can greed for wealth or for justice, we can hunger for food or knowledge, we can reason with someone or out of a situation. But to put in place purchasable services that banks on people being lazy about human relationships can’t do very much good.

After all, relationships are supposed to require effort, pull you out of your comfort zones, make you think – often both about the other person as well of yourself – and push you to strike a balance for pretty much everything between you and your partner. They are full of prolonged sessions of diplomacy that for some eventuates in years of peace and hopefully, brief moments of turmoil. A service that tries to get you out of doing that will only make one complacent and naïve about what it takes to build human relationships, break them, and find ways to rebuild them.
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January Classicals

This is part of my resolution this year, to listen to more live classical music and learn more about the music that I listen to. Monthly posts on classical music concerts in London-town!

Let's not talk about how quickly December came and is now going, it's too crazy and scary. The winter holidays can't get here soon enough, because it's frankly too cold to wake up in the morning and the sun sets way too early.

But not all is lost! Some of the world's best orchestras, resident here in London-town, will be playing some awesome tunes in January to quench our thirst for great music - it should go pleasantly hand-in-hand with the stuff-fest upcoming in the next few weeks...

As always, pass this email along to any and all friends who are interested, and respond if you are purchasing tickets. The cheaper tickets often go quickly, so be sure to book a couple weeks in advance!

1. 20 January 2010 7:30 pm

Royal Philharmonic Orchestra @ Royal Festival Hall
Vadim Repin performs Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto

STRAVINSKY: Symphonies of Wind Instruments
TCHAIKOVSKY: Violin Concerto
RIMSKY-KORSAKOV: Scheherazade

Tickets: £9 - £55
Available on Southbank Centre website


2. 30 January 2010 7:30 pm

London Philharmonic Orchestra @ Royal Festival Hall
Sibelius

SIBELIUS: Symphony No. 3
SIBELIUS: Selected songs - "Autumn Nightfall," "The First Kiss," "A Girl Came from Her Lover's Tryst," "A Ballgame in Trianon", "Arioso," "Duke Magnus," "Was it a Dream?"
SIBELIUS: Symphony No. 2

Tickets: £9 - £55
Available on Southbank Centre website


My Two Pence

If you don't intend on listening to classical music for the rest of 2010, read no further - just go to either or both of these concerts, because you really can't top the line-up of what's being played in January.

RPO (Concert recommendation: 5 stars out of 5): There's surely no better way to start the new year than with the Russians! You've all heard my two pence on Stravinsky so I won't add very much there other than that it looks like this piece will not have any strings in it, which is great for those of you who've never heard a wind ensemble play.

Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto is one of the most difficult concertos to play, apparently. The first violinist Pyotr dedicated the piece to, Leopold Auer, refused to premier it, because the solo part was too difficult and (arguably) not musically suitable for the violin. Poor Pyotr was recuperating from his shit marriage to Antonina amidst Swiss fresh air when he wrote this piece in collaboration with Yosif Kotek, a violinist. It's been used quite often in popular culture, so you'll probably recognise it when you hear it, especially the first movement.

Whenever someone wants a good recommendation for classical music, Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade is one of the first pieces I point to. Based on the stories of Arabian Nights, Nicolai weaves the tale of Scheherazade (pronounced: sheh - hera - zaad), a well-read, super-smart Persian queen who herself is the storyteller of One Thousand and One Nights. Don't we like the story already?

Every day, Sharyar, a Persian king, would marry a new virgin, and then the following morning he would have the new wife killed. What a sicko - but you see, Sharyar's first wife cheated on him, and he couldn't get over that anger - so he wed and killed, wed and killed. After wedding and killing 3,000 women, Scheherazade stopped by to say hello and agreed to spend the night with Sharyar. Scheherazade asked Sharyar if she could say goodbye to her sister, Dinazade, who then asked Scheherazade if she could tell a story.

Sharyar was enraptured by Scheherazade's story, but as dawn broke, Scheherazade stopped. "Oh don't stop, go on with your tale," Sharyar insisted. "But your majesty, dawn is breaking," Scheherazade replied. "Oh go on then," the king anxiously said. "Live another day and finish the story." When Scheherazade finished the first story, she started on a second, and so it went, day after night, night after day. After one thousand and one nights, Scheherazade ran out of stories to tell. But after all those nights (roughly equivalent to three years), Sharyar had fallen in love with Scheherazade - and not to mention had three sons with her! The end.

As you listen to the first movement, you'll hear the 'theme melody' for Scheherazade, as well as of Sharyar, and Nicolai has weaved them through the rest of the composition. Scheherazade's theme is heartbreakingly beautiful, and it really is worth a listen.

LPO (Concert recommendation: 5 starts out of 5): I'm not sure why the LPO is playing No. 3 before No.2, but they are (possibly because No. 2 is better - mwahaha). I've not ever heard his third symphony, but I'm more than curious to hear another symphony by one of my all-time favorite composers. Jean is a Finnish composer of the early 1900s and probably considered to be a hero by the Finn's. To show for it, while the rest of the world has obscure fanfares as their national anthems, Finland gets an entire orchestral work - Finlandia - as their 'unofficial' national anthem. You might think of that as a rather snobbish thing to do, but when you hear his symphonies, I think you'll understand why.

Much like Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, Sibelius' works are those that I usually recommend to anyone who's been reluctant to listen to classical music because they think it's boring or because it might just put them to sleep. They are both highly melodical, very easy to listen and to follow. From what I've read, No. 3 is supposed to be pleasant, clean, and simple (read: 'classical'), unlike his No. 2 which is grandiose and patriotic (read: 'romantic').

Now, I didn't know this, but apparently Jean started writing No. 2 in Italy. That explains my love for this symphony - I have a weak spot for all things Italian! Half kidding.. Whether Jean actually intended for No. 2 to be taken as a patriotic gesture is still debated, but nonetheless the symphony has been dubbed "Symphony of Independence" to commemorate the independence of Finland, which was declared by its Parliament on 6 December 1917. Before that, it was an autonomous region of Russia, and the Russians had imposed a rigid prohibition on Finnish language and culture. The first recording of No. 2 was with the London Symphony Orchestra, but I'm sure the LPO will do a great job performing this piece.
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Thinking - a sin?

With a few requests to resume my blog.. here I am, back again.

My latest line of inquiry has been about thinking.

I'm often told that I think too much. As one friend, a hypoglycemic, put it, "Your thought process is faster than my metabolism."

As a direct result of my so-called over-thinking, I pay a lot of attention to a lot of detail. I notice things about people or events, and think about why they did it, why it happened, how they got there and such. So when the lady standing across from me on the bus is fidgeting with her shopping bag, smiling to herself and gazing out the window, I think: "She went to Sainsbury's. She's having a good day. Is she looking at herself? Maybe she lost some weight. Or maybe she's happy that she got all her chores done. Or she's looking forward to a good weekend, perhaps even a trip. I wonder where she's going. Where's she from? She looks eastern European." And off it goes, my brain.

But a moment's thought should reveal to anyone that everything - absolutely everything - originates first in thought. The begging question, therefore, comes down to this: We have brains, so is it a sin to use it?

I'm thinking things when people do or say things that involve me. Compounded by all the thinking I casually do on a daily basis, I've naturally built a sort of databank in my head of all the things people say or do in reaction to something. Hence, I don't simply speculate on explanations when something happens; I have a fairly informed guesstimate, borne out of hours and years of observing, thinking, and remembering.

But really, I make it sound more complicated and extraordinary than it actually is. Most people, in fact probably everyone, does this. Some people just don't actively think that they're doing it - the whole observing, thinking, remembering - whereas I do.

There are consequences, however; just as there are consequences for everything else. Sometimes, if you're not careful, you think so far into the future that you feel either hopeless, lost, confused with life and anxious at the endless possibilities and by proxy, uncertainties. Other times, you think through things so quickly and thoroughly - and no less for those around you - that you get frustrated that such thoughts aren't given to you in return. By reaction, the people around you get nervous that they're going to miss out on something you'd thought of already, and vice versa. And for most people - those of us who aren't such active think-a-holics - it just might get damn annoying that the Thinker is always thinking, and it's like a piece of elastic ready to snap any second.

I don't really like holding to a romanticised notion of the past (like the way way past), but life must've certainly been less jumbled with information, interaction, and matter. Nowadays, there's tonnes of subjects one could ponder about, and we're not left to ever 'not think', other than maybe within the hour or two of yoga classes. And even then, it's hard.

Thinking, though, isn't all bad. I, for one, think it makes me a pretty considerate person. I can think comfortably in advance and plan ahead. Planning ahead, in fact, comes to me like second nature. It's effortless and easy. Thinking also makes me more articulate about things. Because it's almost like you're constantly talking to yourself, you find ways to word things, to express them and make them more descriptive or less sensational, depending on your needs.

And of course, someone who doesn't think wouldn't blog like this!
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