I’ll say something about my first time professionally teaching English. I took a course in Teaching English. Teaching English as a Foreign Language, or TEFL, they call it. So, that would have meant that I’d be an excellent teacher on day one, right? Wrong. Teaching is hard enough for many seasoned veterans at it. But I thought I was different somehow; that I’d make my splash on day one.

Day one was difficult. It’s hard to admit to yourself that you don’t know as much about something as you thought you did. Still, I didn’t let it crush me. That’s not to say I didn’t have difficult feelings around my first day: of course I did. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be a human. So it made sense to me why I’d have strong emotions around not being as good at something as I thought I’d be. But I didn’t take it as a defeat.

So I kept teaching. Little by little, and I mean extremely small steps; like nano-steps, nanometers, even – enabled me to get to where I am now, which enables me to be more confident as a teacher. I think sometimes in life we feel as though we have to be the best at something on the first time doing something or very early on in the process of doing that thing. But I am reminding you (and myself) that it takes baby steps to get reasonably good at something. Because surely, I will (and you might) need the reminder again in some domain of life that we are trying to master.

I’m in a bit of an in-between space right now. What does that mean? Well, I’m physically in one place, and also in another at the same time. How can that be? These places can be specified as different nations. One is the United States, and the other is Argentina. How did I get into this pickle? That’s the rest of the story.

I got into this predicament by traveling to Argentina a while ago. It all really started when I studied abroad there in 2017. That was a long time ago, I am realizing now. But there is a part of me that is still in Argentina. I know this for a fact because I had to leave in March of this past year (2020).

The story is that I became enamored with the place (Buenos Aires). I became interested in the culture, the people, everything about it. I always got the question, “why did you come to Argentina?” I never knew how to answer that question until a few months ago. I think I know the answer now.

I believe because I never knew how to answer the question as to why I came there – that was the point – my speechlessness was due to it being such a special place. I didn’t know what to say, and so in a philosophical fashion, the fact that I wasn’t able to say anything about it was the reason itself as to why I love Argentina.

There’s nothing to say now either. Discourse has reached a level that we’ve never seen before.

I feel like the world has stopped to some degree, in being globalized, now we are basically with stay-at-home orders indefinitely. That is not so cool.

And so I guess the pandemic will teach people something. Maybe the answers now just aren’t so profound – they’re just things like – it taught us how to survive, etc.

I am talking about a deeper, broader meaning though.

And it’s yet to be seen or known or experienced.

Is translation studies a science?

Translation is an interesting science. Or is it a science? I once argued in an academic paper that it is a humanities discipline. I still think this, but there is a sense in which translation can be considered a science. Only it doesn’t really possess the objective standards that natural sciences have.

Why is translation studies a science?

It is a science first and foremost because it uses measureable phenomena (words and definitions) and there is a direct process (translation) which transposes these words into another language. Some may argue that this is art — and while I agree that there are artful ways to translate, I still don’t think that the conversion of words into another language is artwork. I have conventionally thought that translation is a science in the sense that it is a form of alchemy. Word-alchemy, if you will.

What are we really doing when we translate?

I believe that the process taking place while translating is an analytical one. It is analyzing the word’s definition and meaning and context and trying to find a match in another language for that word. Thus, it is an almost computational process.

But why can’t computers translate, then?

They can, but they don’t understand nuance. Computers have been shown time and time again to lack nuance. And nine times out of ten, when given a hard translation problem, most computers cannot account for these very challenging translation problems. The computers will make a mistake; the human, professional, good translator will not.

How to be a translator?

Begin translating. Begin looking for words in a langauge distinct from your native language. Begin making comparisons between the meanings and contexts and the collocations of these words. Begin creating a network in your mind about how the two languages are related. Learn a new language. Perfect your abilities in the language from which you will be translating.

When will computers take over human translators?

Good question. I don’t think personally that translators have much to worry about given the state of affairs of machine translation, as the algorithms used are still so primitive (or at least they return primitive results). I don’t think the need for translation will go away. In fact, the need for good, quality translations will probably increase.

Why is translation interesting?

I find it interesting because it helps me put my language skills to the test, in short. It also is highly analytical. The act of translation is a game of thinking, if you ask me. It is an intellectual act.

So get out there and get translating.

 

There is a quarantine currently in Argentina. It is pretty absurd to have such a lively city quarantined. But such is life and this is a serious crisis. It seems almost insulting to have to live here on quarantine. But I get it. I get it. People do not want to die. The government doesn’t want that to happen, either — they seem to be responding swiftly, albeit with a bit of a heavy-handedness. It’s fine.

I am fine. Things are fine. I am writing a lot. I am reading a lot of things. I am teaching a little bit. Things like this in the world make you really figure out where your priorities lie. Mine, right now, lie with trying to get back to the US — to be with my family — of course. But if I can’t do that at the moment, I will stay here. There is nothing else I can do. Yes, that’s right, because all commercial flights from Argentina have disappeared. Almost magically, overnight, or at some point the commercial airlines decided on having no more flights out of Argentina. Kind of crazy how that happens. But we’re not magical creatures. We cannot invent things that don’t yet exist. That means there are not yet ways to get people out of Argentina who want to get out, such as me.

There are provisional ways, such as calling the embassy and seeing if they are running charter flights (yes, they seem to have that idea, too, because I received an email from them about registering for a charter flight for US citizens abroad who want to come home). But until that actually comes to fruition, I guess I will be here.

It makes me a little wistful and sad to live here on quarantine, because I have such good memories here given my time in the past in Buenos Aires — the city where I live now. Thus, when I went outside it was a little sad to see the streets desolate. However, I know this place will rebound with life. Think about the life that was going on here just weeks prior to the eruption of the major crisis. Now that is something that makes me hopeful, not sad.

And so it is a message of hope that I wish to convey to the whole world, honestly. That we can overcome this. And it may shift our priorities. In fact, I hope it does shift our priorities towards having more compassion for others. If it doesn’t shift our priorities, I’ll be extremely disappointed.

All we have right now is each other. And that is enough to get through this. And thus, I didn’t expect this to happen, but neither did anyone else in the world. Unless you are able to predict the future, you had no idea either. So try to band together. Don’t separate from others, even as the government is telling people to stay isolated. Yes, stay isolated physically. But in the hardest of times, we must come together, not stay apart. I am talking figuratively. Do FaceTime, WhatsApp video — whatever it takes! Stay with me my friends!

This is a fictional post.

Este es un comentario ficticio.

This regards what I would like to see in the future.

Esto trata de lo que yo quisiera ver en el futuro.

I would like to see more creativity; more love for others.

Yo quisiera ver más creatividad; más amor para el otro.

In the past decade, I have seen a lot.

En la década pasada, he visto mucho.

I have seen a lot of things, including a bus burning in the street.

He visto muchas cosas, inclusive un bondi que se estaba quemando en la calle.

I have met a lot of people over the years.

He conocido a mucha gente por los años.

I have believed in many things that have turned out to be false.

He creído en muchas cosas que se han convertido en falsedades.

I have believed in a truth that has turned out to help.

He creído en una verdad que se ha manifestado en ayuda.

I have believed in many people.

He creído en la fuerza de mucha gente.

Había una vez yo creía que había más personas que perros.

There was once a time in which I thought there were more people than dogs.

Hubo mil personas que llevaban cosas por la calle.

There were a thousand people who carried things through the street.

Hubo un avión que llevaba mil toneladas de proteína para que la gente no se enfermara.

There was a plane that brought a thousand tons of protein so that the people would not become ill.

Hubo dos personas a quienes yo les quería más.

There were two people who I loved the most.

Se había incendiado a un país muy grande.

They had set fire to a very large country.

No conocía los métodos con los cuales lo hicieron.

I did not know the methods with which they had done it.

Por lo menos, lo hiceron de forma eficaz.

At least they did it in an efficient manner.

Y bueno, nadie encontró el significado de todo esto.

And well, nobody found out the meaning of all of this.

Las palabras se habían convertido en algo sin sentido.

Words had been converted into something without meaning.

Nadie me había comentado que le parecía un buen hombre.

Nobody had commented to me that I seemed to them a good man.

Y nada sin sentido tendría un significado.

And nothing without meaning would have significance.

Pero, un día llegó un hombre que nosotros llamábamos Peter.

But, one day there arrived a man who we used to call Peter.

Era un hombre que entretenía a todos.

He was a man who entertained everybody.

Pero su obra final era lo de que me acordaba como “el final”.

But his final work was that which I remembered as “the end.”

Y nadie más, puedo confirmar, que nadie recordaba su obra.

And nobody else, I can confirm, that nobody remembered his work.

Y bueno, esto es todo por ahora porque hay un motín en la calle.

And, okay, that is all for now because there is a riot on the street.

 

I liked back in those simple days during which I would use cursive lettering and dream about the big dogs that sometimes I thought were following me around. I lived in a time warp of sorts. Nothing I could ever get back.

But during those simpler times, going to the park was easier, as was doing nothing at all. I didn’t dare to synthesize and creative information 24/7/365 days per year. And for that I have modern education to blame.

I didn’t first become a proponent of abolishing what most would consider a sacred institution until I heard of a story that felt near to my heart.

There was once a boy named Phillip. I loved old Phil — he was a classmate’s dream. Except for the fact that he was not my classmate yet was an acquaintance, no less. We won’t go any further on that subject of whether he was an acquaintance or not, but suffice it to say that Phil was my friend.

Phil was diminutive when everyone else stood tall, meager and shy when everyone stood proud, cunning when everyone else played dumb, and most of all, he was a musician — a really good one at that.

Phil played the guitar like everyone else played checkers and chess — like a little genius, and yes, everyone was “stuck” watching his “creative development,” though nobody knew so. Not even “Smarty” Steven, who had no musical bone in his body, could comprehend what was going on with Phil.

There was once a time in which Phil was being a nuisance to the class; the teacher punished him; saying, “Just play more guitar, and for Heaven’s Sake, play it outside of the earshot of the rest of the student body, because they listen with utter reverence to you and not to me. But never mind all that; just stop.”

And the teacher, having learned something new about Phil and about himself, secretly (or only away from the students) sought to better understand himself (and Phil). So he took a long, long walk and thought until he nearly dropped dead in fatigue. But he had reached a new insight: that which was the following, and while it was rather unorthodox, it was also quite enthralling as an idea and the teacher could not wait to put it into practice. He would have individual sessions with Phil. He resolved to bring the matter up to the head principal the next day. But in his avarice and out of the fact that he just plain stinking had no extra time, the teacher did not talk to the principal. And whether it was out of sheepishness or a genuine time-crunch, we will never know, as that teacher never so much as broached the subject with the principal. Instead — he banished it so far away in his own mind that he thought that he, not Phil; was living on another planet. And because of this and poor timing, this teacher found himself in a bind. Should he confess his sins (and also Phil’s genius) or should he forever keep his peace (as they sometimes like to say in folklore)?

The teacher decided that neither way was the best option, and conceded to Phil most of the time except once, when he saw that Phil was visibly upset by a remark that the teacher himself had made.

“Sometimes, the best thing to do is give up if you’re handed a tough problem,” the teacher had said.

The teacher later reprimanded himself so harshly for this comment (for reasons we will likely never understand). The teacher did decide; however, to make some conciliatory remarks to Phil.

“Phil, we all make mistakes, and I made one the other day,” he said.

There was nothing glaringly wrong with the teacher’s statement, except the fact that he said it to Phil in (relative) privacy, or as much as the school might allow. That was why the theory behind modern schools was primarily based on a mistaken assumption that most students have a desire to learn. No, I daresay that nearly all students like learning. But what do I know, pray tell? I am just one of the teachers who forms a part of a coalition that calls itself collectively as “Education Proper.”

Some words I dreamt of:

What is the meaning of this?

And when I’m 80 years old, will I regret not writing that novel?

Probably not.

Blogs put immense pressure on individuals: to create; to produce, etc.

I thought the institution of “Creative Writing” was going to take away my liberty.

And that’s because it did, to some extent.

People don’t have much liberty today to create what they want. It has to conform to the standards of the society in which it is produced, the art, that is.

Philosophy is hard, rigorous, and sometimes completely erroneous. I am talking of its physical qualities. Or as if it were personified.

I never edit anything.

That is, unless it’s a project for money.

And this project is clearly not for money. It’s a blog.

Blogs should not be for money. Or else you will probably go broke.

And for whoever tells me: “blogs can incentivize your business, etc.”, I will respond later sometime.

I don’t have a business.

Something Jeff Bezos said:

Not a direct quote.

But he said that what made him want to create Amazon was that he thought when he was 80 years old, would he regret not having made the decision to start the business we now know to be so successful? And the answer was, yes, he would regret not having made the decision. And he said that then, not now. So he in fact was using a cool form of psychology. I was alluding to it in the beginning of this post. It’s to imagine what you will think when you’re super old. Imagine what decisions you’ve made and whether you would regret any decisions. And what you’d regret. Would there be any decisions you’re about to make that you would or would not regret? Why?

Thus, this was the catalyst for me to start writing some stuff.

I don’t think that I would regret not having written a novel by the time I’m thirty. But I would regret not having tried. So I will try. I will.

What I have heard from other writers is that there’s no model for success as a novelist. So you have to carve it out yourself. Which makes things extremely difficult.

But I don’t really care much about what other writers have to say.

I mean, history produced a lot of self-centered writers.

Not that history produced them itself. But you know what I mean.

Some people have read my blog before.

Some people have thrown up their arms in outrage.

They’ve said: “what is this blasphemy?”

I believe what I say is at least somewhat true.

And so, isn’t that all that really matters?

I don’t mean to endorse nihilism here. But that’s where I think there is too much skepticism.

If people think that nothing is worth it, then why not believe them?

Come up with an answer. I challenge you.

 

Coffee is the fuel by which I start my day

It’s about 6:23 in the morning here

Sometimes creativity starts in a funny way

That much is true.

You don’t always express what you need to

Say.

I know epic poems usually have a different structure

But I decided to format it this way,

As I am not Homer

nor am I anyone else of his vintage.

They say sometimes that ethanol is the same thing as gasoline

Or the same chemical rather —

I think what they fail to note is that —

Ethyl alcohol is not a stimulant —

Though in no way

Should gasoline be drunk

We don’t need to test out its properties —

For I believe the scientists.

Or practitioners.

Whichever you choose to subscribe to

Creativity starts easily

Ends hard

Free verse is the best

Not sure why — just

Get the sense that it is.

No real sentiments

No poetry

No fiction.

I am a self-appointed expert on meditation.

My credentials: I’ve done meditation for over five years now.

This doesn’t necessarily mean I’m qualified to teach meditation, per se, but I do know a lot about it.

I do think that meditation is commonly misunderstood.

Some people say you cannot meditate “incorrectly.” This is true in certain ways, but in some important ways, this statement differs from the truth.

To meditate, you need to have the right intention. That is — why are you meditating?

There are many other “rules” to meditating correctly.

But the intention is a very important one. And that is the only one I will share today.

So, why are you meditating?

I can tell you, from personal experience, that meditation does not change everything immediately. It causes a gradual shift, though, in perception of the world and is incredibly worthwhile.

*I am not an expert on meditation.