Spot the odd one out: King Kong, Ding Dong, Chit Chat, Jibber Jabber, Tick Tock, Flip Flop, Zag Zig. The last one is obviously wrong, with the correct version being “Zig Zag”. The astute reader may have noticed a funny rule here: in words that are repeated with only the vowel sounds changed, I comes before A and O.
This peculiar pattern is known as the IAO rule and it is best shown in the example “Tic Tac Toe”. For some strange reason, words just don’t sound right in English when it doesn’t follow the IAO rule. Pong Ping, Hop Hip, Dally Dilly and Clop Clip all just sound weird.
This rule is formally known as ablaut reduplication and it is seen in almost every English-speaking country. The origin of the rule is unclear (likely Germanic), yet it is so prevalent and ingrained into us. Even if you have never heard of “ablaut reduplication”, the words sound very wrong and awkward if said in a different order.
There is another strange rule in English when it comes to ordering words. When it comes to a list of adjectives, such as “Little Red Riding Hood”, not listing the adjectives in a specific order makes it sound strange.
For reference, the order is:
Opinion – size – age – shape – colour – origin – material – purpose, then the noun.
This means that you can say something like “my big fat Greek wedding” or “that lovely large old brown French wooden clock”, but you can’t say “a red big ball” without it sounding off.
One notable exception is “the Big Bad Wolf”, where the opinion comes after the size. But if you look carefully, you can see it follows the IAO rule instead.
“I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy. That would just make me unhappy and I really don’t want to be the reason I’m unhappy.”
~ Phoebe Buffay, Friends
This appears to be such a simple, whimsical line from a sitcom, but Pheobe’s words carry a surprisingly deep truth.
Too often in life, we are our own reason for being unhappy. As much as we like to blame bad luck, systemic failures, other people’s incompetences and the environment we were raised in, if we examine the root cause of our misery closer, we discover some uncomfortable truths.
For example, a common source of unhappiness is loneliness, particularly the lack of a romantic relationship. There are many reasons people will give as to why they are (involuntarily) single, from self-deprecating comments such as “I’m not pretty enough”, to lamenting their bad luck for not meeting the one yet, to toxic blames such as “girls only go after bad boys, not nice guys like me”.
But are those really the true reasons to your loneliness? Or is it because we haven’t learned to love ourselves yet, hold onto negative beliefs such as a romantic partner being the solution to our deep-seated problems, or feel entitled to love? Perhaps it is because we are too stubborn or scared to take action, putting our hearts on the line by asking our crush out, being vulnerable or even taking the simplest step such as accepting a set-up or trying internet dating.
The answer is simple: follow Phoebe’s advice and do not let yourself be the reason that you’re unhappy. If you feel unhappy, take a moment to think about why that is and don’t be afraid to consider that your actions and thoughts might be the cause.
But this is not to say that you should blame and criticise yourself.
Instead, treat yourself with compassion, kindness and love, giving yourself a chance to be happy. Be the manager and mentor to yourself that you’ve always wanted: someone who will let you be the best version of you, clearing roadblocks to your success and happiness. When you discover something that makes you happy, take action to pursue it further, cultivate it and fight to protect it. Seek out new possibilities and exciting opportunities.
We live in a world where everything is powered by something. Our technology is fueled by electricity. Our cars are fueled by fossil fuel (although hopefully not for much longer). Our generators are fueled by everything from coal to running water to the splitting of atoms. We are fueled by food, which we break down to release energy.
But at the core of it all, the world is fueled by one main energy source: sunlight.
Let us retrace the steps.
The device you are using to read this is charged by electricity provided by a power generator. Whatever the source of electricity is, humans are required to power the machines and we are fueled by food. The food we eat are either plants, or meat from animals that consume plants. Plants generate their energy through photosynthesis, where sunlight is used to store energy in carbohydrates.
Ergo, sunlight fuels us all – we are all made of and held together by sunlight.
The Sun is positioned 152 million kilometres from Earth. This means that sunlight travels 152 million kilometres – a distance that takes even light eight minutes to traverse – to feed Earth, brighten our days and make us feel warm and fuzzy.
Sunlight also heats the earth and seas to power various weather cycles and currents, provides heat to keep life possible and most importantly, lets us see because it floods our day with photons.
Just something to think about the next time we enjoy a delightful nap in a warm, cozy sunbeam.
The Italian peninsula is nicknamed “Lo Stivale” (“the boot”) because of its iconic geography. Every child who has ever seen a world map will know this iconic boot-shaped country.
But hypothetically speaking, if Italy was actually a giant boot, what shoe size would you have to be to fit it?
Shoe sizing varies across the world. In Korea, Japan and Taiwan, the Mondopoint system is used where the foot length is measured in millimetres (the width is also considered).
But if you come from an English-speaking country, there is a good chance you are more familiar with the UK and US number system, typically ranging from 3 to 13.
The UK sizing system uses the length of the last that is used to make the shoe. A last is a model of a foot that can fill the entire cavity of the shoe. Because you typically need 1-1.5cm wiggle room for your toes, the last is bigger than the foot that would eventually wear the shoe. Instead of simply using the length of the last in millimetres, UK shoe sizes use a strange unit called the barleycorn.
The barleycorn originates from the 19th century when an inch was defined as the length of three barley corns (or grains). Hence, a barleycorn is ⅓ inch. For adult shoe sizes, a size 1 is 26 barleycorns, or 8 and 2/3 inches (220mm). For every size you go up, you add one barleycorn. This means a size 11 is 12 inches, while a size 10 is 11 and ⅔ inches.
Essentially, this means that your UK shoe size is:
(3 x heel-toe length of your foot in inches) – 23 (accounting for the toe wiggle room).
It is important to note that every manufacturer takes their own liberty with sizing, so this will often be inconsistent and can vary up to an inch, especially for women’s shoes. The US system starts counting at 1 instead of 0, meaning that you just add 1 to the equivalent UK size.
Now that we know how sizes work, let us size the Italian boot.
By rough estimate, the “sole” of the peninsula is approximately 360km long. This is accounting for the bend in the middle, as the heel height is tall. To use our formula, we must convert this into inches, which equals 14,173,200 inches.
Ergo, the shoe size calculates as follows:
= (3 x 14,173,200) – 23 = 42,519,577
Whether you use the UK or US sizing, the boot is roughly a size 42.5 million. Or, if you live in Korea, the shoe size would be recorded as 360 million. Either way, that is one big shoe to fill.
“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”
This concept has been around since the dawn of time, with many astute, wise people noting that more likely than not, people cause harm not because they wish to, but because they are human.
In 1774, Goethe wrote in his novel The Sorrows of Young Werther:
“Misunderstandings and lethargy perhaps produce more wrong in the world than deceit and malice do. At least the latter two are certainly rarer.”
The more popular, simplified saying at the beginning is now called Hanlon’s Razor and it summarises human behaviour concisely and poetically.
Firstly, it emphasises that people (including us) are stupid. We are flawed creatures. Sure, we may have very capable brains, but we are also hamstrung by psychological biases, manipulation, instincts and impulses. We know that we should exercise, but instead we find ourselves binging TV. We know that we should not lash out at our partner, but we find ourselves reacting to our emotions instead of being proactive. More often than not, we make mistakes and poor decisions not because we are bad people, but because we are human.
Secondly, it shows that we judge ourselves by our intentions, but others by their actions. This is known as special pleading. By our very nature, we are egocentric. We think that the world revolves around us and we play an important role in the narrative of those around us. This means that when someone wrongs us, we can take it as a personal attack against us. How dare your coworker give you sass when they must know how burnt out you are from work? How could your spouse not understand your emotional needs right away? Why would the universe do this to us?
But if we take a step back and change our perspective, we might realise that everyone else lives in their own egocentric world. Each person has their own insecurities, hardships and flaws.
The girl who forgot your coffee order may be severely depressed, affecting her concentration. Your boss may have snapped at you this morning because his marriage is in trouble and he is not sleeping well. Your boyfriend may have insulted you not to hurt your feelings, but because they misunderstood you, they phrased something wrong, or just simply that they are not emotionally intelligent.
If you replace “stupidity” with any other imperfect human characteristic such as laziness, stress, distractedness, ignorance or misunderstanding, then the world suddenly appears to be a different place. People seem less evil and life seems a little less unfair.
Lastly, it reminds us that sometimes, things happen for no particular reason. Because people are imperfect and the world runs on chaos and probability, we may be subjected to adversities that appear unjust and unfair.
It’s not because you are worthless or because someone is out to get you: bad things – horrible things – happen without rhyme or reason. The fact that something bad happened is no judgement of your character or a sign from the universe; that’s just life.
Next time you are wronged, try to stop and think before you immediately react with anger and frustration: if you were in the other person’s shoes, what intention or mistake might have caused this? Have you ever done something similar, such as accidentally cutting in line or spilling a secret through human error, not malicious intent? If you assumed the best intention, what might explain this person’s actions?
If you give people the benefit of the doubt, the world becomes a slightly less stressful place to live in.
If you are feeling lazy but want a decent, filling, wholesome breakfast or brunch, try making a cakelet – a cross between a pancake and an omelet. By combining the two, the recipe becomes surprisingly easier, resulting in a savoury, fluffy, tasty meal.
Ingredients: 2 large eggs 2 tablespoon plain flour 1/4 teaspoon baking powder 1/4 cup grated cheese 1 tablespoon butter Pinch of salt
Whisk the eggs until they are completely combined with no whites floating around
Add the flour, baking powder, cheese and salt to the egg and whisk it lightly altogether
Melt the butter in a small skillet (about 8″ in diameter) at medium heat
Pour in the batter
Once you see tiny bubbles starting to form and the mix starts to firm, flip the cakelet like a pancake
Cook the other side for 2 minutes, until both sides are golden and it springs back when you poke the top
Serve it any way you want it: the cakelet goes well with either sweet toppings such as jam or relish, or savoury toppings such as hummus, roasted tomatoes or bacon
If you find that the cakelet is too heavy, feel free to cut back on the amount of butter and cheese used. It is a very forgiving recipe that can be whipped up with little ingredients and minimal preparation, unlike a pancake or an omelet.
The Spoon Theory discusses our reserve for the amount of positive energy we have to give away, until we run out, crash and burn. This is a useful analogy describing the “fuel” we have to cope with life’s demands, but does not address the “damage” that we accumulate on a day-to-day basis.
The Fork Theory is an eloquent, complementary theory to the Spoon Theory to visualise the effect of stress and annoyances on our mental health on a day-to-day basis.
Unlike spoons which we give away from a collection throughout the course of a day, forks are negative experiences and events that we accumulate over the day. We are stabbed with various forks day-by-day. Some are tiny, such as stepping on a Lego block or finding out that you’re out of milk. Some are giant pitchforks, such as finding out that your partner is cheating on you or being diagnosed with a serious medical condition. Whatever the size of the fork may be, the damage from each fork accumulates until you reach a personal threshold.
Much like running out of spoons, when we are stabbed by the last fork that breaks our threshold, we stop functioning normally. This may manifest as breaking down in tears, a rage-filled tantrum or engaging in self-destructive behaviour.
From the perspective of those around us, it may seem as if we are being triggered by the smallest thing, such as seemingly breaking down because a jar won’t open. But forks are invisible to others; only we can see and feel their effects. Therefore, no one can truly know how many forks a person has had to endure before they cannot take any more forks.
The Fork Theory helps us understand (others and ourselves) why we can be so reactive or sensitive at times. As much as we try to be proactive instead of reactive, there will be days when a small annoyance, such as our partner forgetting something insignificant or a slight delay, can set us off down a spiral of anxiety, depression and frustration. It is important to know that the reaction is likely to the total accumulation of forks, rather than to the final, individual fork.
Ergo, the way we should address forks is to remove as many forks as possible to reduce the burden on our mental health. We all know that smaller forks are easier to deal with than larger forks. It is much easier resolving your hunger or cleaning the room than paying off your mortgage or attending therapy to heal old traumas. By clearing away the small forks wherever we can, we create more room and emotional capacity to handle the tougher, more painful forks, while giving us a buffer for any new forks headed our way.
For example, let’s say your partner comes home from work and you tell them that you would like to talk to them about a financial issue that you two are facing currently. Your partner acknowledges you, but also proceeds to head directly to the kitchen to eat a sandwich. You are perplexed by this action: are they blatantly trying to ignore you, or suggesting that you and the household’s finances are a lower priority than a mere sandwich?
If we apply the Fork Theory, we may react less angrily. Perhaps our partner is exhausted from work and starving because they missed their lunch, while already being stressed from the economy being down. We have just stabbed them with a large fork that is financial stress, so our partner may be taking a completely healthy, rational step to remove a smaller fork such as satisfying their hunger, so that they have a greater reserve to deal with the new fork, preventing a threshold being breached and causing a breakdown.
If the Spoon Theory teaches us that we must be mindful of how much reserve we have left to give out, the Fork Theory teaches us how to better manage our woes so that we can survive each day, while facing new challenges that life throws our way.
In 2003, a woman by the name of Christine Miserandino coined the Spoon Theory to explain what it is like living with a chronic medical condition to her friend. When asked by her friend what it is like to live with lupus (an autoimmune condition resulting in various symptoms such as joint pains, fatigue and rashes), she gathered twelve spoons and handed it to her friend.
Miserandino explained to her friend that the spoons represented units of energy. Doing tasks – whether they be simple or complex, fun or a chore – used up spoons.
Getting dressed in the morning? That’s a spoon. Catching up with a friend in the afternoon? That’s another spoon. Cooking a proper meal for dinner? That might even take up two spoons. Even the simplest task such as doing dishes or taking a shower uses up energy.
When all of the spoons are used up, you don’t know what will happen, but you do know that you won’t be able to do anything else. To make it safely to the end of the day, you must carefully ration your spoons so that you have at least one spoon left by the time you get to sleep in your bed.
Most healthy people have a much larger pool of spoons to start the day with: large enough that they can reliably do pretty much all of the things they want to do throughout the day, then replenish the spent spoons through sleep and rest. But for people with chronic conditions such as lupus or depression, they live with a constant awareness of the limited supply of spoons that they have, along with the crushing fatigue and lack of motivation that awaits when the spoons run out.
You never know when you’ll have a sudden need for more spoons: you might get acutely sick, a friend may need emotional support, your relationship may become strained. Ergo, not only do you have to ration the spoons for a typical day, but you need a rainy day reserve of spoons.
Of course, the Spoon Theory is not only helpful for understanding what it is like to live with a chronic condition (or being a “spoonie” as some people would say), but it also helps us understand what our own reserves are when we are reasonably well.
No matter how healthy and well-adjusted we may be, life will indubitably challenge us with various demands. We will have to expend physical and emotional energy to keep up, whether it be going to work to pay bills, supporting our loved ones through tough times, or even doing enjoyable things such as indulging our passions.
There will no doubt be a day when we run out of spoons and we find ourselves unable to do anything, even if it’s as easy as getting out of bed in the morning.
By knowing about the Spoon Theory, we can always be mindful of how many spoons we have left and have the wisdom to keep a spare spoon in our pockets for that particularly tough day.
Sophists were ancient Greek teachers who taught the art of persuading people. This could be for personal use, such as convincing someone to help you with something, or to influence a large group of people, such as in politics. The art of finding the best way to persuade someone is known as rhetoric.
It is interesting to see that the art of persuasion has always been an important skill for human beings since ancient times. We are social creatures with psychological biases, so knowing how to influence other people to help push your agenda forward can be critical in putting yourself one step ahead.
The famous Greek philosopher, Aristotle, wrote a clear, defining treatise of rhetoric in his book, simply titled Rhetoric, or Ars Rhetorica in Latin. In this book, he summarised the core of rhetoric as three principles: logos, pathos and ethos. Any good orator should be able to rely on all three of these to persuade their audience.
Logos is the appeal to logical reasoning. It is the rational, factual facet of your argument. Pathos is the appeal to your audience’s emotion. It is the passionate, heartfelt way you present your argument. Ethos is the appeal to your character. It is an establishment of why people should believe what you have to say, based on your moral character and history.
Out of all of these, which is most important? Some say logos is most important, because cold, hard facts should be used to determine the resolution of a debate. Some feel pathos is most important, because people are more likely to be swayed by emotion and passion as we have a tendency to be influenced too much by our monkey brain.
However, Aristotle claimed that the most important principle is ethos. You can make up facts and you can put on a performance to abuse the power of emotions. But ethos is hard to obtain: you have to live life nobly and honourably, guided by a moral compass. People have a tendency to trust the words of a virtuous person much more than someone who has a history of lying, cheating and in general, morally bankrupt.
Simply put, the secret to being persuasive is not the words you speak or the impassioned way that you deliver them, but your credibility.