The boss of me

I spent ten days in Greece a bit detached from things and people to a degree that may have been considered rude. Even my dear mother, whose subconscious wisdom is only very rarely overpowered by her residual drive to pretend to be the "Greek mom" and who very seldom tries to "protect" me from an overtiring schedule, was somehow surprised by this anti-social behaviour.

The reason for this less social holiday was simply that I did not feel like it. As recent posts might have made a bit clearer to the restricted readership of this blog, I have gone from doubting myself, to doubting what I do for a living and have ended up that I am not satisfied with neither. Fortunately I used these ten days in Greece to reflect about all this self-criticism only to conclude that it was not such a big deal after all. This in the sense that self-doubting is something quite common and should not be allowed to have such a great impact on us, especially while on holidays. I therefore decided that questioning myself shall be an activity into which I shall hereon indulge with no guilt, as long as I do not bother providing any answer to this questioning.

Moreover, I think I made some considerable advance in what concerns my own self's management, (if you would pardon the term). Over the last months I felt somehow excessively "guided" by my -multiple- tutors and bosses, a condition which my inherent problems with authority, my increasingly Greek "know-it-all" attitude and the realistic fact that I spend more time with my project than they do, made really difficult in absorbing. But it was in Greece, away from my project, its managers and Barcelona, where I rememebred strolling by the place shown in the photo.

The so-called "forat de la vergonya", (which would mean "shame's hole" in catalan) was once a really under-developed part in one of Barcelona's fastest developing neighbourhoods, the Born. In our -otherwise- interesting times, when developing means increasing in -purely economic- value and under-development is synonymous to de-valuation, the "Forat" was simply a piece of land that real-estate sharks had not got their hands on yet. Hopefully this was one of the few cases where the sharks remained hungry, since the residents of the neighbourhood took the situation in their own hands and changed the face of the place with their own means. Today the "Forat", looks like in the photo -only a bit more colourful than in this image taken on a rainy day anyway-. It has been declared by the residents as "self-managed" park, where -even after some late intervention and subsequent additions by the City Hall- most of the constructions have been carried out by the citizens themselves. The park includes small gardens, hand-made benches and harbors a football goal and a small basket-ball court. On the entrance there is this sign which reads "Self-managed Park: Forat de la Vergonya".

Where is the -not so obvious- analogy? Well, after a bit of thinking and deciding that as in all jobs, in this one as well, having some limited fun is a crucial component, I have decided to become the boss of me once more. I want to make clear here, that this is not a revolution, nor am I objecting to any kind of oppression. There are no sharks here, at least not obvious ones. But to some extent I feel our job, my job is being de-valuated by being directed toward stupid scientific trends with no interest to me and -most importantly- no fun whatsoever. Therefore I would more call it a small subversion, a minor mutiny if you like, as I re-assume full responsibility for my work, the only real asset I possess -isn't that right uncle Karl?
It has paid off in the past, so why shouldn't it work now?

....
PS. A late Friday night postscript may come in confirmation to the above. The numbers I see on my screen suggest that it paid off this time as well. But lets not get over-excited