Why can't you close your ears?

As a man who appreciates great feats of engineering, I have to hand it to the great designer in the sky who created the human body, (that could mean God, Allah, Jehovah, whatever your preference) it truly is an amazing machine.

However, on a recent trip back from Turin sat on an aircraft prior to departure, it occurred to me that there was one huge flaw in the grand design. 

As human beings we have the ability to close our mouths, this prevents the ingress of detritus. We have the ability to close our eyes, this prevents irreparable damage being done to our retinas by mediocre saturday night television. We also have the ability to close our anal sphincter, this prevents the internals of our undergarments behind covered in excrement, a handy muscle to have been gifted I'm sure you'll agree.

Alas, after all this great forethought in design, we do not have the ability to close our ears!

Sat as I was on the taxiway, around the mid-point of the aircraft, I had the misfortune to sit within ear shot of two well spoken individuals, who were in the process of acquiring the admiration of a young lady.

As they attempted to woo her the conversation progressed to their occupations, it was at this point I began to wish I had the ability to close my ears.

Both males in question informed the young lady that they were both, "quantitative analysts", to which she immediately responded with, "what does that mean"?

This is the reply I overheard to the aforementioned lady's question.

"Well my dear, as a quantitative analyst it's my job to design complicated mathematical formulas to predict financial risk". 

He went on.

"I feel truly lucky to use the knowledge I gleaned at university in my everyday work, my background in mathematics helps me to determine the value of derivatives. Using algorithms I can predict the behaviour of markets and generate huge amounts of revenue from the stock market".

He hadn't finished.

"I can use my skills to invent all kinds of complex financial packages, such as credit default swaps, hedge funds, futures, leverages, the list goes on. But above all of this I can apply mathematical formulas to predict, and very accurately, the behaviour of the markets".

At this point I glanced between the seats to see the young lady looking a little perplexed, but let me tell you she needn't have, it's very simple, allow me to explain.

What the gentleman was trying to say is this.

Everyday I go to work in a big shiny steel and glass structure, it's all official though, because it's called Canary Wharf. Once safely in my office, which is also very shiny, I take out a set of tarot cards. I acquired these cards from a traveling Roma Gypsy, and she assured me they would allow me to predict the future. 

At around 10 a.m after I've given them a thorough shuffle I began to lay them out on my big desk, which is also very shiny. It's at this point that I begin to fill in various spreadsheets that people use to buy and sell shares in random companies. These companies are usually a long way away, and this is a good thing, otherwise they could hurt me or my family.

The gentlemen is also trying to say this.

Sometimes when I'm in my shiny building, sat in my shiny office, at my shiny desk, I'm forced to resort to extreme measures to allow me to predict the future.

Once I was sent to Africa on an extravagant, all expenses paid team building exercise. It was at this point that I acquired my secret weapon. I obtained at great expense to my company, a magic set of chicken bones from a Sub-Saharan witch doctor. 

When times are tough in my shiny office, I strip off to reveal a moose hide loin cloth. At this point I break in to a mythical, mystical, highly choreographed dance routine, similar in style, but not in rhythm, to the "Macarena".

My secret weapon has never failed to help me reach my quarterly target, this ultimately leads to me getting my annual bonus, which is several times the magnitude of my over inflated salary.

Now I have to admit, telling a girl that your a quantitative analyst is a new one on me. I've heard the usual ones, like a dolphin tamer, a biscuit taster, and even a trainee stuntman. Being in the Royal Air Force, the one I'm more accustomed to is, "I'm a fighter pilot"!

However, my favourite one has to be "I'm a lake leveller".

It's at this point an amorous young lady would ask, "what's a lake leveller"?

To which you would reply, "you know when you go to a lake all the boats are at one side"?

"Yes"

"Well that's because the lake hasn't been levelled yet"!

Anyway enough of all this joviality, as usual there is a serious point to all of this.

What an absolute waste of human talent it is that the most intellectually gifted people in the country, spend their lives furnishing the pockets of those who require no further furnishing. 

These men and women who've proved themselves learned, should be developing new forms of propulsion, finding alternative forms energy, developing martian colonies, anything that betters humanity.

Instead they are lured to "The City", to make a quick buck for the few that the stock market actually works for. 

Can we blame them, probably not, maybe we'd all do the same given the opportunity.

For myself, the part I have particular loathing for is the message it relays to the next generation, that success is purely a number on a balance sheet.

The culmination of my own paradoxical realisation

The above picture was taken just outside Denver, Colorado. It was early morning, at a small diner. I was grabbing a spot of breakfast before heading out of the city, and on to the Rocky Mountain National Park. Wandering about randomly with my camera in tow this mural was adorned on the exterior of a nearby car park, it seemed to perfectly sum up my year long stay in the states.

Now that my "long strange trip" is over, I've been forced, very recently, to confront my own paradoxical realisation. For those of you who are expecting some earth shattering confession, you might be sorely disappointed, and others will probably say that you were aware of this fact all along.

So without further a do, here it is.

I am boring.

And not just boring, pretty damn useless too.

Any regular followers of my blog, and there are several, will know that what started out as an account of my experiences in America, has morphed into an anti capitalist, wealth inequality, environmental awareness tirade against the feeble inability of governments to stand up to the elephant in the room, otherwise known as the psychopathic corporate entity.

From that last burst of rhetoric I'm sure it's obvious to any new comers to my blog, that I'm more than slightly disillusioned with the shallow, at best, consumer culture we are belt fed with on a minute by minute basis. 

Now normally I try to keep my views under wraps, but once I've had a few beers my usual restraint flies out of the window. I have been known to turn into a choir preaching nuisance, and this is what  forced me to confront the fact that I'm a bore.

During recent nights out with close friends, upon consuming anymore than 3 beers, out comes the soap box and my posturing begins. What starts as a few casual comments about the homogeneity of the political parties, will progress as sure as tick follows tock, to an all out attack on the oligarchic state of the so called developed world. 

The look in my friends eyes is tangible, you can feel their apathy build, but more than this, you can sympathise with a complete disinterest in something they feel they have no control over. It's at this point I would be politely encouraged to change the subject, as boredom descends and their faces become waxed, I'm left with the harsh realisation that I am truly a bore. 

You probably think that would be enough to silence me, but no, I have an endurance for this kind of persistent cud chewing. As I continue to plough my trade and demonstrate my ability to endure, it turns out that fundamentally, they all agree with the basic principles of my argument. The democratically elected government which represents us, doesn't represent us at all, and instead is cherry picked to further the gains of a select few whom have all the money, and therefore all the power.

This brings me nicely round to my second, and maybe more damning realisation. 

I am also useless.

For all my relentless generation of warm air judgementally telling everyone how wrong the world is, and that we should all take to the streets, what do I actually do about it?

The apathetic attitude from my close friends is not arrogance or ignorance of any kind. It's a realisation that the deck is heavily stacked against you, and they're not wrong. So I should take my medicine like a good boy, and capitulate with all the calmness of a Hindu cow.

Yet the recent receipt of a section 172 notice informing me that I'd been caught speeding, ultimately lead me to redemption in the form of a speed awareness course.

Allow me to elaborate. 

As it was my first motoring offence, the good people of Thames Valley Police Force were decent enough to offer me a speed awareness course, this would mean forfeiting the 3 points on my licence, but this was a sacrifice I was willing to make in the name of education. I sat there early on a Saturday morning being bombarded with statistics, and graphic simulations illustrating the effects of speed in collisions with children. 

The course progressed to talk about attitudes to speed, and it was this point a gentleman named "Stephen Covey" was mentioned. The lady taking the course went on to explain how Mr Covey, spoke about how a simple change in thinking, without any real conscious effort, can effect a change in the real world. 

Now I realise this all sounds a little hippyish and other worldly, but it's really quite simple.

Just a change in your thought process is enough to effect a change. 

If we apply this to the reasoning of my friends and myself, then maybe just by recognising and acknowledging that there are deep fundamental problems with our democracy, and the balance of our hierarchal structures, we can all help redress matters.

If that's the very least we can do, don't we owe it to those less fortunate than ourselves? 

If that's the very least we can do, don't we owe to our neighbours, to the people that we haven't met yet, to those who are yet to be born, and even to those who are no longer of this world?

So maybe all of my boring uselessness is not boring or useless at all?

My seemingly boring rhetoric is actually nothing of the sort, it's simply an awareness of what's wrong with the world, and further more, what's needed to right it. The year I spent in America gave me the ability to leave the bubble of day to day living, and allowed me to view life from the outside looking in. For receiving this truly amazing gift I feel I have a responsibility to highlight, and raise awareness of issues that are affecting people the world over.

My apparent uselessness is also nothing of the sort, it's simply a recognition of how I can contribute, even if it's in a very limited way. I do believe it's possible just by recognising that things are wrong, to effect a change in the world simply through the interactions we have with others and our environment. 

And here in lies the paradox.

It's possible to change the world simply by doing nothing (well almost nothing).