The Music is a British band, which I really don't know how to describe; a rough approximation would be 'electronic disco rock'. This week I am offering you the first song I heard from them, Take the long road and walk it. I really like the song, and the associated video. Moreover, the 2002 album in which the song is included is very consistent, and I can recommend it. Unfortunately, in the following two albums they ran out of imagination and their music became rather dull.
So, please enjoy Take the long road and walk it:
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
Heart
The other day I was reading some forum (or some blog comment, I can't recall) in which the latest U2 album was being discussed. One of the comments expressed more or less the following:
This duality between innate talent and acquired skills pervades many facets of human life. The immediate examples that come to my mind are soccer players and researchers. Some are talented because they're were born like that; being brilliant is natural (or even instinctive) for them. Think of Maradona here. Others, in contrast, try to compensate the lack of innate talent with additional doses of sacrifice, discipline, or even leadership. Think of Gattuso here. In both cases, our human nature constantly pushes us to the unavoidable search for equilibrium.
I remembered the comment on U2 while talking with a former supervisor of mine about potential PhD students. Doing a PhD is a serious decision, as it requires a lot of personal compromise. A special sacrifice most likely you haven't faced before. There's no formula or pattern to follow for doing a PhD; after all, it's research: you'll be dealing with issues that no one else has addressed before, so what you ignore is usually much more than what you know for sure. This applies both for the supervisor and the student; each of them doesn't really know what to expect from the other.
U2 is the living proof that you don't need great performers to produce great rock songs. Indeed, if you pay attention, Bono doesn't have a great voice, The Edge would be nothing without all the machines and effects he uses, and the drums and bass are only correct. After all, rock is all about attitude.
This duality between innate talent and acquired skills pervades many facets of human life. The immediate examples that come to my mind are soccer players and researchers. Some are talented because they're were born like that; being brilliant is natural (or even instinctive) for them. Think of Maradona here. Others, in contrast, try to compensate the lack of innate talent with additional doses of sacrifice, discipline, or even leadership. Think of Gattuso here. In both cases, our human nature constantly pushes us to the unavoidable search for equilibrium.
I remembered the comment on U2 while talking with a former supervisor of mine about potential PhD students. Doing a PhD is a serious decision, as it requires a lot of personal compromise. A special sacrifice most likely you haven't faced before. There's no formula or pattern to follow for doing a PhD; after all, it's research: you'll be dealing with issues that no one else has addressed before, so what you ignore is usually much more than what you know for sure. This applies both for the supervisor and the student; each of them doesn't really know what to expect from the other.
My former supervisor has a theory on potential PhD students: to do a PhD you need something that goes well beyond GPAs and mechanical knowledge acqusition; in his view, above all things, PhD students must have what he generically calls their heart: a rare mix of independence, self-confidence, enthusiasm, audacy, stubborness, curiosity, sacrifice, and passion. As many other intangibles in life, a student's heart can't be easily defined but you can tell for sure when you see it.
Being one of those endowed with a rather modest amount of innate talent, I can only but agree with this way of understanding what it takes to do research. Although this could well apply to many scenarios in life, when doing research it is especially evident that you need a resiliant heart. Indeed, since doing a PhD is such a unique experience (especially if you go abroad for that) you will need to use your heart in those (frequent) moments in which your academic side has run out of answers. In any case, it could help to think the following: if Bono can sing as wholeheartedly as he does with his limited voice, a good student with the proper amount of heart should succeed in that road to oblivion also known as scientific research.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Poor little bastard
I have something against exceptional kids. I guess it has to do with some very deep envy. As a result, I hate hearing about lovable, unusually-talented young actors such as Haley Joel Osment or, more recently, Dakota Fanning. (Perhaps the only exception is Doogie Howser, who indeed I like, perhaps because I am sure Doogie's a fictional character while I am not). The negative feeling is accentuated when I hear of kids mastering outstanding skills in areas in which I really wish I was more talented, such as music or science; I can't stand hearing of, for instance, 6 year-old violinists/pianists/composers, or of 30 year-old mathematicians winning Field medals.
I guess that comparing yourself against concrete examples of (intellectual) superiority is simply overwhelming. Often, when I hear of such examples my initial reaction is rather simplistic and things such as "well, I actually had a childhood and it was kinda fun" come to my mind; then, when I realize the shallowness of my argument, I end up appealing to my theory of "one is never the extreme of things", which I already mentioned here. In any case, I think there's a constant excitement in understanding (and living with the fact) that one's just plain normal, and that such a condition comes with pros and cons.
Having said that, I am most happy to report I found the case of an exceptional kid I do not envy at all: a child prodigy in politics. I am taking about Jonathan Krohn, a 13 year-old kid who wrote a book called Define Conservatism. Poor little bastard. Instead of doing normal stuff American kids do at age 13 (say, being part of a criminal gang, or experimenting with alcohol, drugs, sex and/or their combinations) this little guy chose to wrote a book and to follow McCain's campaign. Even weirder, Jonathan got into politics at the age of six (!). He now gives brief addresses in conservative committees; you can see Jonathan in action here.
I guess that comparing yourself against concrete examples of (intellectual) superiority is simply overwhelming. Often, when I hear of such examples my initial reaction is rather simplistic and things such as "well, I actually had a childhood and it was kinda fun" come to my mind; then, when I realize the shallowness of my argument, I end up appealing to my theory of "one is never the extreme of things", which I already mentioned here. In any case, I think there's a constant excitement in understanding (and living with the fact) that one's just plain normal, and that such a condition comes with pros and cons.
Having said that, I am most happy to report I found the case of an exceptional kid I do not envy at all: a child prodigy in politics. I am taking about Jonathan Krohn, a 13 year-old kid who wrote a book called Define Conservatism. Poor little bastard. Instead of doing normal stuff American kids do at age 13 (say, being part of a criminal gang, or experimenting with alcohol, drugs, sex and/or their combinations) this little guy chose to wrote a book and to follow McCain's campaign. Even weirder, Jonathan got into politics at the age of six (!). He now gives brief addresses in conservative committees; you can see Jonathan in action here.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
This week's catchy song (13)
This week I offer you a song from the latest U2 album, No Line in the Horizon. Quite frankly, the album is very average for U2: of the eleven songs, only three or four are indeed good, the rest is boring at best. Of course, what's "average" for U2 might be simply out of the question for most bands, but it's unavoidable to feel a bit disappointed. (You can hear the whole album in U2's official site.)
First I intended to offer you Breathe, the best song in the album, but then I realized that most likely that's the second single of the album, so you will hear it everywhere in the coming weeks. So, here's another good song, White as Snow. Enjoy:
First I intended to offer you Breathe, the best song in the album, but then I realized that most likely that's the second single of the album, so you will hear it everywhere in the coming weeks. So, here's another good song, White as Snow. Enjoy:
Monday, March 2, 2009
Umarells and Sdauras
In my neighborhood in Bologna I live surrounded by old people. I often feel like living in a retirement place, one without boundaries or nurses. I don't think there's something special about my neighborhood; it is simply a bit outside of the city center, so I guess other places in Italy and Europe also have a similar proportion of old people. I find it both overwhelming and weird. Very weird. When I leave my building in the morning, I found them everywhere, wandering around in the streets, without an evident purpose.
In the dialect of Bologna, old guys are called umarells and old ladies are called sdauras. Not too many in Bologna know and use these words; it seems it's an old, unused dialect. Umarells in my neighborhood spend their days getting drunk at one of the several bars next to the main entrance of my building. One of such bars is ironically called Bar dei Ragazzi. At night, the combination of umarells and alcohol makes the street in front of my building an unpleasant place for women to pass by. As for sdauras, you can easily find lots of them at the supermarket on Saturdays. They usually dress up very elegantly, even to go to the supermarket or to simply walk around the neighborhood. I appreciate that demonstration of dignity and self-respect; too bad sometimes their make up and clothes are too evident in revealing the decade in which they were young.
All of this is in sharp contrast with Colombia, a place full of youth and kids --perhaps too many kids. Seeing a baby or a kid in my neighborhood it's quite an unusual event. There's something in old Italians that's very different from old Colombians. It's hard to explain: somehow old Italians look more active and alert; I wonder if seeing a war and living the postwar gave them a different sense of appreciation of life. In Colombia, when people arrive to retirement age, most of them enter into a 'hibernation mode' and become way less active, and more dependent of others, or at least that's my impression. Here old people seem more active and responsible and independent than most youngsters; it's so cool to see them riding their bikes all around. Their dignity is both evident and admirable. In these times of crisis and unemployment, I am sure their low ---but guaranteed--- incomes are essential to support and lead their families.
[You might like to have a look at the (photo) blog devoted to Umarells in Bologna (in Italian).]
In the dialect of Bologna, old guys are called umarells and old ladies are called sdauras. Not too many in Bologna know and use these words; it seems it's an old, unused dialect. Umarells in my neighborhood spend their days getting drunk at one of the several bars next to the main entrance of my building. One of such bars is ironically called Bar dei Ragazzi. At night, the combination of umarells and alcohol makes the street in front of my building an unpleasant place for women to pass by. As for sdauras, you can easily find lots of them at the supermarket on Saturdays. They usually dress up very elegantly, even to go to the supermarket or to simply walk around the neighborhood. I appreciate that demonstration of dignity and self-respect; too bad sometimes their make up and clothes are too evident in revealing the decade in which they were young.
All of this is in sharp contrast with Colombia, a place full of youth and kids --perhaps too many kids. Seeing a baby or a kid in my neighborhood it's quite an unusual event. There's something in old Italians that's very different from old Colombians. It's hard to explain: somehow old Italians look more active and alert; I wonder if seeing a war and living the postwar gave them a different sense of appreciation of life. In Colombia, when people arrive to retirement age, most of them enter into a 'hibernation mode' and become way less active, and more dependent of others, or at least that's my impression. Here old people seem more active and responsible and independent than most youngsters; it's so cool to see them riding their bikes all around. Their dignity is both evident and admirable. In these times of crisis and unemployment, I am sure their low ---but guaranteed--- incomes are essential to support and lead their families.
[You might like to have a look at the (photo) blog devoted to Umarells in Bologna (in Italian).]
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