Children and Adults

You're no longer a child when you start wondering if you are.

At first, I thought that the secret of adulthood was knowing how much violence, especially sexual violence, exists in the world. I thought that this truth was known to all adults but scrupulously hidden from children. I've changed my mind not only because children learn about violence early on -- from fairy tales, from history, and sometimes from their own experience -- but also because I think there is more to being an adult than knowing the world is a violent place. Because they have greater self-awareness, adults inherit a duty to pursue their better self. It's probably silly to suppose there is some essence of adulthood, but I think that having a clear picture of the world and pursuing one's self-development are part of being mature.

While I was in my last relationship, I thought that you could accurately think of peoples' lives as a series of relationships. I thought that knowing if someone was in a relationship, and knowing how it's going, could tell you a lot about that person. I still think this is true, and I still think that healthy relationships are important for everyone. However, I foresee a day - say, several years into a continuously happy marriage - when what matters is not so much one's relationship
(that is a bedrock, a foundation, by that time), but helping others: helping family, caring for parents, and standing by one's friends.

I'm sure these thoughts will evolve in the future.

Русские Игры (Russian Games)

1. Moscow Metro Racing

In the metro stations here, the escalators down to the platforms are notoriously long. Most Muscovites stand on the right side while descending, chatting or staring deeply into their beloveds' eye, but some frenzied folk take to the left and gallop. I am one of those. Feet flying, wind whishing, standees overtaken in a blur--there is no more invigorating way to start one's day. Let the games begin!

2. Blood Test or LSAT?

Sometimes when I am down, I consider if I would rather endure a blood test or the LSAT. Invariably the answer is "No." This cheers me up.

Roadwalks

People and cars have multiplied like viruses in Moscow, and there isn't enough room for either. So parking tends toward the inventive. Sometimes drivers stop their cars on triangular spaces of pavement that would otherwise be known as the shoulder of the road. More often, they gun their way onto the sidewalks, where hurried pedestrians strive to get out of their way on one side and gleaming glass storefronts reflect impassively on the other. Recently I was walking near President Hotel, when a previously immobile hulk of black steel about 3m in front of me snorted and roared into life, exposing itself as a big, platinum-fendered Lexus, and then blazed down the asphalt like a rocket out of a bazooka. PedExs like me scampered to the side and scraped our noses against some concrete. There went Moses, and he sure was parting the Red Sea.

Roadwalks are as inconvenient as they sound. Even so, they have not prevented me from exploring the neighborhood near near st. metro Belorusskaya, where I live.

I've found that the Soviets did childrens' playgrounds right. In the midst of rotting, peeling Soviet apartment buildings, you'll find plots of grass filled with colorful metal playstructures. There is a ship with a flag and an anchor on it; a sandbox and a swing; a set of monkeybars in the shape of a turtle. Now, if they would only apply these enlightened design principles to, say, the former KGB headquarters Lyubyanka.

P.S. If I am to write regularly, I must get into the blogging habit. And what do you call the blogging habit? BlabIt!

All Aboard

Tomorrow, I leave for Moscow, Russia, which is ten degrees colder and seven hours into the future. For updates on cognitive science and Russian law, check this spot.