As most of you know by now, I’m currently training to be a psychotherapist, because I don’t have enough strings to my bow already. I know I want to practise existential psychotherapy but I’m not yet clear on whether there’s a particular group of clients I’d like to work with. I’ve recently been thinking, however, about working with law enforcement officers, particularly those who are engaged in investigating cases of child exploitation, human trafficking and counter terror. I have the advantage of understanding these industries from the inside, and hopefully with the benefit of psychotherapy training I’ll be able to make a difference to the field by helping people to deal with some of the things they’re seeing. Read more
This one’s whipped by in a happy frenzy of work-related productivity.
That’s not even sarcasm: I actually like my job. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. I spent so many years in an industry I actively disagreed with, doing a job I hated myself for, that I can barely believe I’m finally free of it and spending my days being paid to do things I enjoy.
My first reaction to hearing about the Paris attacks wasn’t “how awful”, or “how could someone do this?” or anything so wide-ranging.
It was “shit, I hope my friends who live in Paris are safe”.
I would like to change the world.
I feel like it needs changing, you know? There are things that definitely aren’t working, things that aren’t going very well, and sometimes it feels like it’s all sort of coming to a head.
It’s one of the oldest questions known to humankind. It’s pervaded every discipline, from philosophy and psychology to astrophysics and agriculture. It’s stumped people at confusing hurdles and encouraged dialogue between diverse groups.
How should I live?
This article is a recap of some of the main highlights from the Techno Security and Forensics Investigations Conference (TSFIC) held in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, from the 31st of May until the 3rd of June 2015.
I landed here in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina last Saturday morning.
I’d left London twelve hours earlier, last Saturday morning.
When you google my name, you get some weird results. Case in point: