Some people believe that in many computer systems it is not convenient to name files according to a date of Georgian calendar. Personally, I prefer the system I introduced myself (see post №12 (16.09.2013), "File Nomenclature Unicode"). Briefly, it is the idea of naming the file in the following fashion: yyyy.mm.dd.hh.mm.ss Geographical location Description. After naming the files that way, the system will automatically sort them chronologically.
However, some debates on the topic have occurred. I offered to name files differently for chronological sorting when dividing the time frame on either just years, or just month, or just days. Such system may not be convenient for all, but if for some reason the files must be sorted by months or days only, it may be a better idea to name them properly. The idea is to count months from January of the year 1 of the Common Era, and days from the 1st day of January 1AD. In that fashion, January of year 1 can be simply named 1, February of year 2 as just 2 and so on, so February of 2017 we may name 24194, not 2017 02 as offered in the beginning, and March of 2017 as 24195, not 2017 03. It is easy to calculate the desired month for its nomenclature. For example, one needs to name a file created in January 2017. To do that, he has to multiply 2016 & 12, being 2016 years that have passed since 1AD and 12 month in each year, and to add 1 to this number, i.e. January. So 2016x12+1=24192+1=24193. If one desire to know what the month of April 2017 will be, he will have to change the above formula by replacing 1 with 4 (since April is the 4th month of the year). That way, the number will be 2016x12+4=24192+4=24196. For the convenience of the reader, I decided to make a table of the numbers of months. For example, to calculate what number December 2016 was, I have to multiply 2015 and 12 (number of years passed times number of months in each year) plus 12 (December is the 12th month of the year), or simply calculating the quotient of the numbers 2016 and 12, which will be the same number. So 2015x12+12=2016x12=24192. For each of the following months I simply added 1 to that number, so January of 2017 was 24192+1=24193, February of 2017 is 24194, etc. For the previous months I substracted 1, consequently:
January 1 -----------------1
February 1 ----------------2
March 1 -------------------3
...
December 1 -------------12
January 2 ----------------13
February 2 ---------------14
...
November 2016 --- 24191
December 2016 --- 24192
January 2017 ------ 24193
February 2017 ---- 24194
March 2017 ------- 24195
April 2017 --------- 24196
May 2017 ---------- 24197
...
Such system is good, however, only for dating in Common Year. As well as the previously offered, there is no use of it for the dates before Common Era.
As for the days, the calculation becomes a little more confusing but not less exact. In numerating dates starting 1 January of year 1, the table will be filled in a similar manner:
1 January 1 ------------------- 1
2 January 1 ------------------- 2
3 January 1 ------------------- 3
...
30 January 1 ---------------- 30
31 January 1 ---------------- 31
1 February 1 ---------------- 32
2 February 1 ---------------- 33
3 February 1 ---------------- 34
...
30 December 1 ----------- 364
31 December 1 ----------- 365
1 January 2 ---------------- 366
2 January 2 ---------------- 367
3 January 2 ---------------- 368
...
26 February 2017 ---- 737386
27 February 2017 ---- 736387
28 February 2017 ---- 736388
1 March 2017 --------- 736389
2 March 2017 --------- 736390
...
The formula for calculating a particular day is composed in a similar manner. Let's say we need to figure out what number will be given to today, 27 February 2017. First of all we have to calculate how many days have passed during the previous years, & then add the number of the days already passed in 2017. There are 365 days in each year, so 2016x365=735840. But how do we count the number of years in which the day of 29 February occurred? Very simply. As we know, leap day falls on every 4th year, so in the years 4, 8, 12, 16, 20, ..., 2008, 2012 & 2016 (any year divisible by 4) the leap day occurred. The exceptions were the years divisible by 100 but not divisible by 400. So the years 100, 200, 300, 500, 600, ..., 1500, 1700, 1800 and 1900 did not contain the leap day while the years 400, 800, ..., 1200, 1600 & 2000 did. So 31 December 2016 was not simply the 735840th day of the Common Era (2016x365=735840). In order to figure that out we have to add the number of leap years to 735840. Apparently, there were 489 leap years starting the year 4 and counting 2016. So 735840+489=736329, which was 31 December 2016. Consequently, 1 January 2017 was the 736330th day of the Common era, and today is 736387 counting that way.
It may long be debated how convenient it is to name files and dates those ways, the answer is one: it depends. In any ways, it might be fun to know that today is the day 736387 of the Common Era.
Monday, February 27, 2017
Monday, April 25, 2016
A Series of Misfortunate Events
"All the people here in Boston, in New England generally, are very on-grounded, literally and figuratively" - I thought. "They study, work, drink alcohol, have endless conversation about nothing, and that's kind of all their lives. I will climb higher and look on them from the above. Literally and figuratively."
Yesterday was that kind of day when everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. Initially, I planned to do a lot and spend a very productive day, as a result I ruined everything and even more. I stayed for an overnight at the library because of, again, the number of things I had to do. I was doing homework for my College English 2 course, which I am taking for a millionth time, and was really nervous about the climb I planned to do on the sunrise and promised to report to my friend so she could know I'm alive. I wrote the responses for discussion board and started the to essays I had to write for the past week, at the same time researching any information in the Internet about urban climbing and chasing cranes. A lot of new things were learnt. As turned out, the term "rooftopping" was first mentioned in the source dated 15 August 2003 (thanks wordspy.com), in Ninjalicious's "Journal: Blackout Exploration". I, indeed, found something I was looking for, particularly what chasing cranes looks like from the first person's eyes (somebody filmed the entire thing on his GoPro and posted to YouTube); and what consequences can I expect if I am caught. A guy I recently met and chatted with on Instagram, Noah Kingston, wrote me an entire article on how dangerous it all is and how I can be put to jail for two years for trespassing, or at least fall to my death. It seemed like everything around told me "Don't do it". Loneliness, with a really rare exception, is an awful thing. In my case right now, nobody says, "In case of what, I am with you." Maybe not physically, at least in mind - that would be much more than I need. For now though, I can easily live a day not saying a word.
I researched a lot, and learned a lot of useful stuff. I was not sure if I would chase the 2° difficulty level object before even being on the 1°, but at least I would explore it. The night was dark and it was calling. As you have, hopefully, already guessed, the 1° difficulty level object was the roof of SquashBusters, Inc. at Northeastern, particularly its edge where the letters reading "BADGER & ROSEN SQUASHBUSTERS CENTER AT NORTHEASTERN UNIVERSITY" are, and the 2° level was a crane on the site of former 1383 Boylston street. There used to be an ugly old yellow one-story building, with a big black banner on it, which read "These are the faces of Fenway. This is where we work. This is where we play. This is where we live.". Below that long banner there were some photos of Fenway area, some good, some not. The building was traingle-shaped if looking from above, and on its front angle, if approaching from Park Dr, there was a porch, and on its side to your left there was an ACE TICKET store (former 184 Brookline avenue). But that store was very small, the purpose of the rest of the building is not known to me, most likely it was kinda-abandoned. I'm glad they demolished it and started building a skyscraper, because, firstly, skyscraper is beautiful, and secondly, the construction site is welcoming. Very welcoming.
The series of misfortunate events started when I was leaving the library; the staff at info dest refused to keep my longboard for a couple hours, telling me something like that it was not their business. Ba dam tss! The plan with express-cranechasing failed. Almost. There was a hope that I could leave my board somewhere on ground level where nobody would find it in case of what. How naive! As I approached Boylston street, I saw the crane. I saw the blindingly white winking lamp, which called "Climb up here and touch me!" I came closer. It was a very attractive site with nobody present (in my visibility) and no surveillance cameras either. I could not miss such chance. It is just way too easy. But not today. As I was riding away from it on my longboard on Peterborough street, the first rays of sun were rising from above the horizon. "Blue hour!" - I thought. I took my smartphone to take a picture of such beauty. I noticed the time was 4:56. With a single swipe I opened the camera application, and only thing I could do was to take a picture, to never see it. I did not notice the cone on the asphalt. Where did the cone only came from? There are no fur trees on Peterborough! Next moment I was in the air, to meet asphalt with my knees and palms. And with a smartphone in one of them. For some time I was just lying on the asphalt in pain. Then the pain turned into very unpleasant feeling in my knees and palms. I picked up a smartphone. Totally damaged. Its screen was cracked totally, with some red, green and blue lines on it, turning on and off. I landed one of my palm on it, so it even bended a little. I picked it up, picked a cone and went to pick a longboard which was already far behind. I went toward the University, crying. It wasn't much of a pain, it was a thousand-dollar smartphone. I did not have money. A thought came to my mind, how the minute ago everything was totally fine an going as planned, but now so many great things are ruined. Really great. I was walking on the Peterborough, then turned right at Seventh Day Adventist Church on Jersey. I was pronouncing my thoughts out loud. "I don't have money." "I don't have a thousand bucks" . I went to the library. The first lights of the new day were starting to brighten the sky, but did not yet touch the streets of a city. As passing through Emerald Necklace of Back Bay Fens, I stopped at the point before the bridge and gazed on the water, on the sky red from the rising Sun, on the Prudential tower behind the bushes, and questioned out loud "Why? Why this happened to me? Where am I going to take $1000 for a new smartphone? What am I going to tell Mom?" Although the worst was behind, the rest of the series of misfortunate events were still ahead. It was a pity such an expensive thing was broken. It was a pity all the photos and videos were most likely lost irretrievably. It was a pity the plan with Squashbusters Center would not be turned to life that morning. It also was a pity I tore my jeans on the knees, but a little less. As passing Museum of Fine Arts Promenade, still crying and afraid if somebody will see, I tried to think logically and forget about the pain in my knees and in palms a little. I was thinking what exactly happened during the last month (20 days actually), which is the time period from my last iPhoto backup. Yes, 20 days since the day I destroyed my laptop by spilling milk on it. Exactly 20 days, since I did it in those early morning hours. I was trying to remember what photos were lost. Interestingly, I only regretted my selfies on a green couch in the library. My best photos were actually backed up on Instagram (every day I post the best photo of the day there), and the rest were pretty grey and nothing outstanding, or as I thought I couldn't remember but there actually were some worthy ones. I also thought that I didn't cry for a while, and that for a guy of my age it's pretty natural (sarcastically, earlier that night I had to read a blog post for my assignment, of a guy who cried and had a hysterics over his website being plagiarized and his poetry stolen, "My Story: My First Plagiarism Battle by Jonathan Bailey (a man who hosts a very good website about the topic, www.plagiarismtoday.com) (2005)). When I reached Huntington Avenue and turned my head to see the red flower near the entrance to the museum, I sobbed, remembering the picture I took of it. That picture was on Instagram but the others, which as I thought were lost, weren't. I thought about the fact that I am dependent on photos and videos and that it is very terrible to live without a camera (preferrably a good one), unable to picture or film anything. But is it a bad addiction to always being able to document your life and your memories on a paper or a hard drive?
Back at the library I checked the working hours of Apple Store - the very first place I will have to go to. Opens at eleven. Damn! They usually open at ten, but it was Sunday. I reserved the next available appointment for Monday at noon thirty - nothing closer. If they will refuse to check me upon a walk-in today, I will have to wait until tomorrow. For now the only reasonable thing I could do was to take a nap until then.
I hobbled up to the third floor using the stairs. It was even more painful to bend my knees now then it was after I fell. An assistant who came to me asked if I needed a bandage, I said I was good. I only said that I wanted to know if my phone was reparable or not. After seeing his face, I concluded - it hardly is. I mentioned that the most important thing were the pictures and videos on the phone, and he persuaded me that they are also hardly backed up, because he couldn't see any photos at all on the percentage chart for the information backed up on my Apple account.
After that, the day of useless wandering around started. I went all the way back to the library (fortunately, despite the pain in my knees, I could still ride a skateboard, which fastened the process, but not for a long time). At the library I downloaded the program for memory backup directly from smartphone, made sure the computer did not even recognize the connected device, screw the whole thing, went back to Apple Store to see another assistant, this time female, who told me the same thing - that the phone is most likely unrepearable, but I could give it away and get a brand new one for as low as $350. She recommended me some stores which offered to scan the motherboard and make an attempt to withdrawal the data from it directly (however the store was only open from Monday to Friday), so I went back to the University; on my way through Prudential center I stopped at two kiosks which did the smartphone repair; the guy at the first one said they only replaced screens; and the guy at the second one, who actually helped me and did something, is worth mentioning.
<...>
Money withdrawal
InstaMeet
This single day, even just ten hours of it, helped me realized how I was really bounded to my smartphone. But is it a bad thing? I thought logically: I do not have an addiction, like the most. Instead, I just used the smartphone a lot because it helped me to do a lot of things (not just watch kittens on YouTube), so now of course I felt somewhat uncomfortable without it. But it was nothing like that narcotic hangover my Mom once had when the mobile carrier put down the Internet for a couple hours for technical reasons.
I completed the day pretty smooth, back at the University Library, which is my second home (actually first) completing the assignments I have to submit online by midnight. I was late with the weekly quiz for Health Issues of Environmental Problems, but I hope they will either take a single point off or won't notice at all. As I figured out, I only lost the photos I took that misfortunate nightish-morningish hours yesterday, of the construction site and of the sky above Peterborough street at Blue Hour - the last photo my old iPhone 6 Plus ever made a second before its death. It is still a minor los of data, but not actually something to even worry about. Today is Monday, 25 of April, and the Sun is on the zenith. Monday is supposed to be the worst day, but I know that mine was just yesterday. There is never another storm right after a storm. My friend probably thinks that either I'm dead or held by police. I promised to send her the rooftop photos yesterday. Well, I'm guessing it's time to let her know things are not that bad, but almost.
Yesterday was that kind of day when everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. Initially, I planned to do a lot and spend a very productive day, as a result I ruined everything and even more. I stayed for an overnight at the library because of, again, the number of things I had to do. I was doing homework for my College English 2 course, which I am taking for a millionth time, and was really nervous about the climb I planned to do on the sunrise and promised to report to my friend so she could know I'm alive. I wrote the responses for discussion board and started the to essays I had to write for the past week, at the same time researching any information in the Internet about urban climbing and chasing cranes. A lot of new things were learnt. As turned out, the term "rooftopping" was first mentioned in the source dated 15 August 2003 (thanks wordspy.com), in Ninjalicious's "Journal: Blackout Exploration". I, indeed, found something I was looking for, particularly what chasing cranes looks like from the first person's eyes (somebody filmed the entire thing on his GoPro and posted to YouTube); and what consequences can I expect if I am caught. A guy I recently met and chatted with on Instagram, Noah Kingston, wrote me an entire article on how dangerous it all is and how I can be put to jail for two years for trespassing, or at least fall to my death. It seemed like everything around told me "Don't do it". Loneliness, with a really rare exception, is an awful thing. In my case right now, nobody says, "In case of what, I am with you." Maybe not physically, at least in mind - that would be much more than I need. For now though, I can easily live a day not saying a word.
I researched a lot, and learned a lot of useful stuff. I was not sure if I would chase the 2° difficulty level object before even being on the 1°, but at least I would explore it. The night was dark and it was calling. As you have, hopefully, already guessed, the 1° difficulty level object was the roof of SquashBusters, Inc. at Northeastern, particularly its edge where the letters reading "BADGER & ROSEN SQUASHBUSTERS CENTER AT NORTHEASTERN UNIVERSITY" are, and the 2° level was a crane on the site of former 1383 Boylston street. There used to be an ugly old yellow one-story building, with a big black banner on it, which read "These are the faces of Fenway. This is where we work. This is where we play. This is where we live.". Below that long banner there were some photos of Fenway area, some good, some not. The building was traingle-shaped if looking from above, and on its front angle, if approaching from Park Dr, there was a porch, and on its side to your left there was an ACE TICKET store (former 184 Brookline avenue). But that store was very small, the purpose of the rest of the building is not known to me, most likely it was kinda-abandoned. I'm glad they demolished it and started building a skyscraper, because, firstly, skyscraper is beautiful, and secondly, the construction site is welcoming. Very welcoming.
The series of misfortunate events started when I was leaving the library; the staff at info dest refused to keep my longboard for a couple hours, telling me something like that it was not their business. Ba dam tss! The plan with express-cranechasing failed. Almost. There was a hope that I could leave my board somewhere on ground level where nobody would find it in case of what. How naive! As I approached Boylston street, I saw the crane. I saw the blindingly white winking lamp, which called "Climb up here and touch me!" I came closer. It was a very attractive site with nobody present (in my visibility) and no surveillance cameras either. I could not miss such chance. It is just way too easy. But not today. As I was riding away from it on my longboard on Peterborough street, the first rays of sun were rising from above the horizon. "Blue hour!" - I thought. I took my smartphone to take a picture of such beauty. I noticed the time was 4:56. With a single swipe I opened the camera application, and only thing I could do was to take a picture, to never see it. I did not notice the cone on the asphalt. Where did the cone only came from? There are no fur trees on Peterborough! Next moment I was in the air, to meet asphalt with my knees and palms. And with a smartphone in one of them. For some time I was just lying on the asphalt in pain. Then the pain turned into very unpleasant feeling in my knees and palms. I picked up a smartphone. Totally damaged. Its screen was cracked totally, with some red, green and blue lines on it, turning on and off. I landed one of my palm on it, so it even bended a little. I picked it up, picked a cone and went to pick a longboard which was already far behind. I went toward the University, crying. It wasn't much of a pain, it was a thousand-dollar smartphone. I did not have money. A thought came to my mind, how the minute ago everything was totally fine an going as planned, but now so many great things are ruined. Really great. I was walking on the Peterborough, then turned right at Seventh Day Adventist Church on Jersey. I was pronouncing my thoughts out loud. "I don't have money." "I don't have a thousand bucks" . I went to the library. The first lights of the new day were starting to brighten the sky, but did not yet touch the streets of a city. As passing through Emerald Necklace of Back Bay Fens, I stopped at the point before the bridge and gazed on the water, on the sky red from the rising Sun, on the Prudential tower behind the bushes, and questioned out loud "Why? Why this happened to me? Where am I going to take $1000 for a new smartphone? What am I going to tell Mom?" Although the worst was behind, the rest of the series of misfortunate events were still ahead. It was a pity such an expensive thing was broken. It was a pity all the photos and videos were most likely lost irretrievably. It was a pity the plan with Squashbusters Center would not be turned to life that morning. It also was a pity I tore my jeans on the knees, but a little less. As passing Museum of Fine Arts Promenade, still crying and afraid if somebody will see, I tried to think logically and forget about the pain in my knees and in palms a little. I was thinking what exactly happened during the last month (20 days actually), which is the time period from my last iPhoto backup. Yes, 20 days since the day I destroyed my laptop by spilling milk on it. Exactly 20 days, since I did it in those early morning hours. I was trying to remember what photos were lost. Interestingly, I only regretted my selfies on a green couch in the library. My best photos were actually backed up on Instagram (every day I post the best photo of the day there), and the rest were pretty grey and nothing outstanding, or as I thought I couldn't remember but there actually were some worthy ones. I also thought that I didn't cry for a while, and that for a guy of my age it's pretty natural (sarcastically, earlier that night I had to read a blog post for my assignment, of a guy who cried and had a hysterics over his website being plagiarized and his poetry stolen, "My Story: My First Plagiarism Battle by Jonathan Bailey (a man who hosts a very good website about the topic, www.plagiarismtoday.com) (2005)). When I reached Huntington Avenue and turned my head to see the red flower near the entrance to the museum, I sobbed, remembering the picture I took of it. That picture was on Instagram but the others, which as I thought were lost, weren't. I thought about the fact that I am dependent on photos and videos and that it is very terrible to live without a camera (preferrably a good one), unable to picture or film anything. But is it a bad addiction to always being able to document your life and your memories on a paper or a hard drive?
Back at the library I checked the working hours of Apple Store - the very first place I will have to go to. Opens at eleven. Damn! They usually open at ten, but it was Sunday. I reserved the next available appointment for Monday at noon thirty - nothing closer. If they will refuse to check me upon a walk-in today, I will have to wait until tomorrow. For now the only reasonable thing I could do was to take a nap until then.
I hobbled up to the third floor using the stairs. It was even more painful to bend my knees now then it was after I fell. An assistant who came to me asked if I needed a bandage, I said I was good. I only said that I wanted to know if my phone was reparable or not. After seeing his face, I concluded - it hardly is. I mentioned that the most important thing were the pictures and videos on the phone, and he persuaded me that they are also hardly backed up, because he couldn't see any photos at all on the percentage chart for the information backed up on my Apple account.
After that, the day of useless wandering around started. I went all the way back to the library (fortunately, despite the pain in my knees, I could still ride a skateboard, which fastened the process, but not for a long time). At the library I downloaded the program for memory backup directly from smartphone, made sure the computer did not even recognize the connected device, screw the whole thing, went back to Apple Store to see another assistant, this time female, who told me the same thing - that the phone is most likely unrepearable, but I could give it away and get a brand new one for as low as $350. She recommended me some stores which offered to scan the motherboard and make an attempt to withdrawal the data from it directly (however the store was only open from Monday to Friday), so I went back to the University; on my way through Prudential center I stopped at two kiosks which did the smartphone repair; the guy at the first one said they only replaced screens; and the guy at the second one, who actually helped me and did something, is worth mentioning.
<...>
Money withdrawal
InstaMeet
This single day, even just ten hours of it, helped me realized how I was really bounded to my smartphone. But is it a bad thing? I thought logically: I do not have an addiction, like the most. Instead, I just used the smartphone a lot because it helped me to do a lot of things (not just watch kittens on YouTube), so now of course I felt somewhat uncomfortable without it. But it was nothing like that narcotic hangover my Mom once had when the mobile carrier put down the Internet for a couple hours for technical reasons.
I completed the day pretty smooth, back at the University Library, which is my second home (actually first) completing the assignments I have to submit online by midnight. I was late with the weekly quiz for Health Issues of Environmental Problems, but I hope they will either take a single point off or won't notice at all. As I figured out, I only lost the photos I took that misfortunate nightish-morningish hours yesterday, of the construction site and of the sky above Peterborough street at Blue Hour - the last photo my old iPhone 6 Plus ever made a second before its death. It is still a minor los of data, but not actually something to even worry about. Today is Monday, 25 of April, and the Sun is on the zenith. Monday is supposed to be the worst day, but I know that mine was just yesterday. There is never another storm right after a storm. My friend probably thinks that either I'm dead or held by police. I promised to send her the rooftop photos yesterday. Well, I'm guessing it's time to let her know things are not that bad, but almost.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Piece of Advice for Urban Explorers
In urban exploration, no matter what kind of, you do trespass, sometimes not even knowing that you trespass. And once in a while you are caught. How bad it is? A wonderful guide for rooftopping in particular I found here: https://www.reddit.com/r/urbanexploration/comments/2twini/ It is a very good and useful instruction in general, (especially section 3 “Getting up to the roof”, perfectly written as something to refer to). As for trespassing, and what charges apply, proceed to section 4, “Getting Caught”. It is, of course, nothing nice. The advices he gives are not particularly for rooftopping, they are basically for any sort of UE. I would add that, first of all, you should dress nicely. To a person who is good dressed, the attitude is very different (read the comment in the middle, from major_t0m). Then, do it on the night from Saturday to Sunday. It is the best time, ever. Some trespassers were, indeed, arrested in Toronto recently, however on practice it is very rare that you deal with law afterwards, it is even very rare that you get caught at all (that’s why those guys made big news; if it was common, they wouldn’t: ). Just keep these things in mind: if you are caught, be polite, explain the situation, they will likely be too lazy to bother with you and you will be excursed from the building. An article was published in The Guardian (www.theguardian.com/cities/2015/feb/17/rooftoppers-urban-explorers-risk-photographs-skyscrapers-bradley-garrett ) which also mentions some arrest. Yes, it happens, but does it make sense to always be afraid? Then we would all just be sitting at home all the time impassable. Life outside of comfort zone is dangerous, but why not just being careful and planning everything in advance? As for the safety issues, well, it’s a different story. You totally misunderstood me. I am not looking for thrill or adrenaline, trust me, I’m getting much more than I need of those during final exams. I am only doing whatever it takes me to get a good panoramic shot from the above. Once I’m on the edge of a roof, I don’t do backflips or balance hoverboards there. There are a lot of tips and guides in the Internet, do some research, they is very helpful; I am usually following two main rules: there should be always something strong to hold and something not slippery to step on. The rest is good unless you suffer from epilepsy.
There is, of course, peaceful urbex, without any kind of trespassing. For example, the one I did a week ago. When I lived in Roxbury 2.5 years ago (read about my experience in the post from 10 September - 3 December 2013), and went to the university on foot (it was rather a rare experience), I used to pass a wasteland paled with a Rabitz. I thought why would someone pale a wasteland with Rabitz, and why no one was allowed there, but was too lazy to explore. Since all my homework assignments are due at midnight from Sunday to Monday, and I have no weeks on the first day of the week, I decided to go do some exploration. I was having a lunch at International Village (I have some major plans for that building itself, anticipate!), and then decided to take a walk before going to the gym (it is a bad idea to go to the gym right after a good brunch, trust me). That wasteland was right diagonally the Tremont street X Ruggles/Whittier street crossing, in front of Boston Police Headquarters, basically two steps away. The wasteland was very large, and very green, with an abandoned building in the middle (back part of which was not paled with Rabitz, it served as a wall itself:
I went all the way around the Rabitz until I reached the building itself. It was interesting! Regardless of the inscription above the door I still misunderstood what the building served for. Was it a hospital? Looks more like a 1930s school.
The garage door itself was activated by the chain-to-gear mechanism. I tried to pull both sides of the chain, but it was locked.
The Rabitz itself had a lot of holes, and overall it was easy to climb over it, but my new clothes did not allow it, and just why? I could see everything from behind it, a boring wasteland and that's all. I could also see that the building was inaccessable without at least a ladder, although basement windows and those plywood sheets on the windows of the first floor were probably worth checking.
There was also a lot of construction debris on and near the wasteland. Was something demolished there?
I was overall satisfied with what I saw, but even more questions arose. This is how the site looks like from Tremont street when you pass it by:
Then I took a walk along Tremont street in inbound direction.
There is, of course, peaceful urbex, without any kind of trespassing. For example, the one I did a week ago. When I lived in Roxbury 2.5 years ago (read about my experience in the post from 10 September - 3 December 2013), and went to the university on foot (it was rather a rare experience), I used to pass a wasteland paled with a Rabitz. I thought why would someone pale a wasteland with Rabitz, and why no one was allowed there, but was too lazy to explore. Since all my homework assignments are due at midnight from Sunday to Monday, and I have no weeks on the first day of the week, I decided to go do some exploration. I was having a lunch at International Village (I have some major plans for that building itself, anticipate!), and then decided to take a walk before going to the gym (it is a bad idea to go to the gym right after a good brunch, trust me). That wasteland was right diagonally the Tremont street X Ruggles/Whittier street crossing, in front of Boston Police Headquarters, basically two steps away. The wasteland was very large, and very green, with an abandoned building in the middle (back part of which was not paled with Rabitz, it served as a wall itself:
Monday, April 11, 2016
The Morning I Realized I’m a Rooftopper
Five days, four nights without sleep for passing
grade. During all my academic life after school, which had been almost three years now, no other session was this hard for me even on my first year. Well, I
cannot say that I broke a longest time without sleep record because I napped
every about ten hours, but this still made me a living zombie for some time, until I finally got to bed on Tuesday night (surprisingly, by the end of that five-day torture I didn't want to sleep as much as I thought I would. Maybe thanks to the naps?). It
proved to be worth that: so far, my academic success is going so good. The
previous week, being a vacation (break) for me, was fabulous. And the reason for
that was not the length of the vacation itself (just a week, even less in my case, counting Monday and Tuesday as working days (the hardest working days of my entire studentship!) and today as the first day of the Spring term (well, it's actually not - the first lecture is tomorrow, and tomorrow is a busy day too), but the fact that
my professors agreed to extend the deadline for me for a couple days, until their own deadline to submit the grades (final decision). It was
awesome. From the five subjects I took, three – Astronomy, Chemistry 2, and
Laboratory for Chemistry 2, I passed with an excellent grade. My Chemistry Professor, Edward Witten, was kind, understanding and very easy-going. The two rest –
Physics 1 and Laboratory for it, were not as encouraging: I failed Physics 1 in
purpose to get the best grades possible for the rest of the subjects (I just screw it), and
passed the lab with a lower-than average grade thanks to my last minute
submissions in addition to what I’ve submitted before (being the four reports
required from the five experiments we had). It was an entirely different story
how I fought for that grade for Physics Lab (I wrote about what happened with it a couple weeks before).
This boosted my Grade Point Average. I will not be fast enough to reveal it to you, because as it turned out (my pal from Laboratory for Chemistry and Ecology told me) I can just ask my academic advisor to erase some of my really bad grades (most of which I've got due to technical problems with Northeastern's Blackboard system), up to an entire academic semester. There was such - last Summer.
As a compensation for my efforts, something new and wonderful appeared at our dining halls - Nutella. Yes, and it's not a typo - Nutella in unlimited quantities, on a smörgåsbord. So if I am ever reanimated to an emergency room, I want them to know the overdose of what do I have.
As a compensation for my efforts, something new and wonderful appeared at our dining halls - Nutella. Yes, and it's not a typo - Nutella in unlimited quantities, on a smörgåsbord. So if I am ever reanimated to an emergency room, I want them to know the overdose of what do I have.
THE MORNING which I have mentioned in the title was very late night to early morning-ish hours of 10 April, the day I'm guessing I will remember for my lifetime. Have you ever got that feeling when you were lying on a sofa in Snell library on your side, than on your back, than again on your side, and then suddenly realized that you're a different person now than you were a moment ago, and that your life is totally different now, counting from this particular moment? No? This is awesome because it means that you're a normal person, or not as awesome if you don't want to be one, and if you are/want to be crazy like myself. You know, it's very hard to accept own craziness, but it's a lot of fun I have to say. Walking around all two decades of my life, thinking like "when would I do something like that, I'm not nuts", and suddenly, one sleepy morning hour, answering myself "now". This was yesterday morning which've turned everything upside down. Psychological consequences of life without a PC? (see what I wrote about my Mac previous week) Probably, but definitely good ones. Is it a psychiatric condition which I'm having now? I'm guessing so, and it feels wonderful!
The formula of a reaction which occurs in my body from yesterday and which I have developed today represents the circuits in my brain that occur now, with Craziness reacting with Stupidity resulting in double adrenaline, which can be more easily represented as follows:
Cr + St → 2Ad + H2O↑(l)
where:
Cr - Courage, in a form of a complex of inner-brain electric circuits (or their lack), ;
St - Stupidity, same;
Ad - Adrenaline (Epinephrine), hormone fully represented as C9H13NO3
H2O↑(l) - water in the form of perspiration (diaphoresis), being similar to the processes such as condensation or distillation.
Given that, we can imagine the reaction above in a more detailed way, being:
Cr + St → 2(C9H13NO3) + H2O↑(l)
It is important to keep in mind that excretion of water, being represented as ↑, is not outgassing, i.e. vaporization, but liquidation instead.
This all seems logical, but the question is, Gentlemen, why and how did it all start?
This all seems logical, but the question is, Gentlemen, why and how did it all start?
Monday, March 14, 2016
Nothing Talk
Again Monday, again new week! Greetings, dear subscribers and those who just happened to read this, and good luck in all for the week ahead! I guess I could write wonderful screenplays for my videoblog, but unfortunately I’m much worse as a videoblogger than a traditional-type text blogger. Anyways, thanks to You, dear readers, this blog exists and will exist. Knowing that someone is reading it, and that someone is interested in it makes it a much more enjoyable process. And this interesting fact will lead us to the topic which is up to discussion for this week. So let me summarize and round this up: I am a very bad videoblogger (at least much better as a writing blogger) and probably some of You are as well, which only means that I'm an awful speaker but an acceptable (and hopefully, an appreciable) writer. But why is that happening to me, and to so many other people? Everybody around us seem to talk, to have conversations for hours, and pretty much enjoy it, while we cannot drop a word after five minutes of thinking what to say next. Are we so much smarter than they and value words too much, or the opposite, so much dumber that we can't even come up with a random topic to talk about? A very interesting discussion on this topic, stirred by a famous blogger Sean Cooper, a.k.a. "The Shyness & Social Anxiety Guy", which can be viewed here: http://shynesssocialanxiety.com/what-to-talk-about/ , leads us to a better understanding of the phenomenon. Let's dig a little deeper to the problem.
8 March marked a very important Socialist holiday - International Working Womens Day, and since most of the local population, as well as the majority of those who had lobotomy performed on them, are Socialist Bernie Sanders supporters, this holiday was widely appreciated and hoorayed.
For those of you who are not following me on Facebook (and I really recommend you to do so: if my blog is entitled "Events", my Facebook feed should probably have the name "Thoughts"), here is what I wrote about the International Working Women's Day on 8 March: “The public recognition and widespread celebration of International Working Women’s Day in the United States is not something unexpected or sensational: the desire of the Society for as called Socialist Alternative, combined with the natural desire to bring changes and make something what was considered abnormal or even illegal before totally normal, if not appreciated, and vice versa, is also coherent, and follows particular patterns in political and economic life of the Country. However, the rise of Socialism in the United States is not necessarily a decay of Modern American Society; instead, repeating the mistakes of History is still learning, yet learning on own experience, which proves to be much more effective. My personal predictions for the future are rather positive: unlike the other countries, such as China, East Germany, Russia, Czechoslovakia, etc., America’s experience with Socialism will be very brief and synoptic: as soon as the average population will perceive the cost of the benefits it brings, its popularity will fall dramatically. There will be no such American prototype of Great October Socialist Revolution or Chinese Communist Revolution, at least that can be said for sure.” Otherwise, if you are still with me, I am inviting you to follow up. Leaving the rest of the politics to dumber people, let's continue with what actually have occurred.
8 March marked a very important Socialist holiday - International Working Womens Day, and since most of the local population, as well as the majority of those who had lobotomy performed on them, are Socialist Bernie Sanders supporters, this holiday was widely appreciated and hoorayed.
A FORMAL APOLOGY
To the people who underwent lobotomy in any of its kind.
Dear,
I am sorry if I offended you in any way. I understand that lobotomy sometimes can be vitally important, and that you underwent it doesn’t mean that you are so stupid that you are a feminist and/or support Bernie Sanders. I generalized. It is a very rare occasion that I give a formal apology, especially on my blog, so you are special. Once again, I do not think that if you had lobotomy you are so stupid that you are a feminist or a Bernie Sanders supporter, no; I do not equalize you to those people. Please don’t take it so personal if you did.
For those of you who are not following me on Facebook (and I really recommend you to do so: if my blog is entitled "Events", my Facebook feed should probably have the name "Thoughts"), here is what I wrote about the International Working Women's Day on 8 March: “The public recognition and widespread celebration of International Working Women’s Day in the United States is not something unexpected or sensational: the desire of the Society for as called Socialist Alternative, combined with the natural desire to bring changes and make something what was considered abnormal or even illegal before totally normal, if not appreciated, and vice versa, is also coherent, and follows particular patterns in political and economic life of the Country. However, the rise of Socialism in the United States is not necessarily a decay of Modern American Society; instead, repeating the mistakes of History is still learning, yet learning on own experience, which proves to be much more effective. My personal predictions for the future are rather positive: unlike the other countries, such as China, East Germany, Russia, Czechoslovakia, etc., America’s experience with Socialism will be very brief and synoptic: as soon as the average population will perceive the cost of the benefits it brings, its popularity will fall dramatically. There will be no such American prototype of Great October Socialist Revolution or Chinese Communist Revolution, at least that can be said for sure.” Otherwise, if you are still with me, I am inviting you to follow up. Leaving the rest of the politics to dumber people, let's continue with what actually have occurred.
Monday, March 7, 2016
On Opinion of the Others, and Why it Matters
Since the earliest years of the developing Humankind and Society, Culture played a major role in educating and improving the human-to-human relationships. Accordingly, as the time went by and Development started to show off its first signs in the form of Common Sense, point of view and Opinion, the latter mattered not less than any other aspect of human interactions, in fact, it was one of the most important type of interactions. Opinion, how and why it matters? In modern Society, it is not rare to hear the claims of very diverse people that they are totally uninterested in a different party’s opinion on them.
FROM MY OTHER NEWS
First things first, yesterday was a true Leap Day because I got home early enough and... [drumroll] did my laundry!! [ba dum tss!] How often do I do my laundry? Twice a year maybe? But don’t be disgusted so easily, I live at my parents’ twice a year and do my laundry on a much more regular basis, plus I have so many T-shirts that I hardly wear them all.
The first week of March is to first week of Spring, but only officially, calendarically so to say. In reality it’s not as much of the first week of Spring. While reading that, you probably thought that “not as much the first week of Spring” probably means that the snow is still present, and it’s very cold, but in reality it’s the opposite, the snow is long gone! By “it’s not much of the first week” I meant that, like, it’s not the first one already! The snow is long gone!
Yesterday was the leap day, so I decided to mark it in my memory by getting a haircut and being photographed on a full volume, i.e. in three dimensions. For the second time in my life (since the original photo, taken in November, was lost as you remember)! A nice headshot I guess, although a pretty low quality even for early XXI century (yeah, I’m writing this already assuming that somebody will come across my blog many years from present). They asked me there at a 3D printing station if I would like it printed for twenty something dollars, I agreed, of course, for such price is very fair.
The official first day of the spring also found me in a very good mood. I got up and decided to do a topknot out of my undercut, which my neighbor called a pony tail and laughed upon when he saw me at the kitchen. I changed my mind upon a topknot, but he assured me it was a kind, surprised type of laugh. Well, we’ll live and see! Later that day (it was Tuesday) I didn’t want to go on the Physics Laboratory, oh how I didn’t want to go there, and it turned out, vainly. There were only two persons not counting me (my will eventually became stronger than my desire, and I came, although a little late), third one came closer to the end of the practice and started making the experiment on his own.
It was Wednesday, I guess, when I learned that Leonardo DiCaprio got an Oscar. Well, goodbye all the old jokes about him. I read it in the Instagram. To be honest, I also sin: during the breakfast sometimes I love to check the news feed on social media and drop a couple racist, sexist and offensive comments here and there (thumbs up who remembers my quatrain about myself and my behaviour in the Internet!)
Tonight, as it usually happens on the night from Sunday to Monday, I did not have a chance to sleep due to having way too much homework to be submitted due Monday morning and my obligation to be present at the University early that (i.e. this) morning. I left the site at about two o’clock at night, and had to be back in just three hours, which left me only about an hour and a half (subtracting the time I spent to get home and back) to change my clothes, wash my face and perform all the necessary morning toilettes. During this academic year, it was my first extreme night, if that’s the word. Being a smart person and getting some sleep beforehand, I am not sleepwalking now, neither I was at night when I took those interesting photos. I went home, but I was so late that when I made it there it was almost the time to get up, a little more than an hour, so it made no sense to go to bed. So I took advantage of it, and without any rush took pictures of the night city, of the places which I usually pass and don’t even look on.
Night Boston is a totally different city from what it is during the day. It looks abandoned, somewhat creepy. I ride my skateboard home, and still every little sound or silhouette on the other side of the road gave me those little goosebumps, which we, guys, usually never mention or accept we have those from time to time, so take advantage of me. Pictures shown here were taken tonight. I travelled from the Fens past Landmark Center to the C line of MBTA (the one that goes to Cleveland Circle), and followed it up to the last station, which is where I live. Around here, there is a lot of gossip regarding what happens in the high grass of the Fens during the night. I pass those grasses almost every night, and to be frank, I never saw or heard anything. Well, gossip is gossip. I use the road along the C line not only because it is the shortest way for me to get home, the asphalt is good and there is a bike lane all along the way, but also because I like it. I am the kind of person who would prefer long but landscapeous road to short but boring; in this case, I’m just lucky: the shortest way home is also the most interesting one. With time, however, we get tired of things, and I’m sure I will not be an exception.
As I passed along the streetcar line, I passed through an abandoned city. I did not meet a person, except for the electric workers who were fixing or repairing the overhead line which the streetcar contacts when running. The strange thing was that they actually have a special tram - transformer vault for fixing the overhead line (I wonder how do they call it, “tramsformer”?), but they still put an entire two trucks on railway wheels to do that (see the pictures).
First things first, yesterday was a true Leap Day because I got home early enough and... [drumroll] did my laundry!! [ba dum tss!] How often do I do my laundry? Twice a year maybe? But don’t be disgusted so easily, I live at my parents’ twice a year and do my laundry on a much more regular basis, plus I have so many T-shirts that I hardly wear them all.
The first week of March is to first week of Spring, but only officially, calendarically so to say. In reality it’s not as much of the first week of Spring. While reading that, you probably thought that “not as much the first week of Spring” probably means that the snow is still present, and it’s very cold, but in reality it’s the opposite, the snow is long gone! By “it’s not much of the first week” I meant that, like, it’s not the first one already! The snow is long gone!
Yesterday was the leap day, so I decided to mark it in my memory by getting a haircut and being photographed on a full volume, i.e. in three dimensions. For the second time in my life (since the original photo, taken in November, was lost as you remember)! A nice headshot I guess, although a pretty low quality even for early XXI century (yeah, I’m writing this already assuming that somebody will come across my blog many years from present). They asked me there at a 3D printing station if I would like it printed for twenty something dollars, I agreed, of course, for such price is very fair.
The official first day of the spring also found me in a very good mood. I got up and decided to do a topknot out of my undercut, which my neighbor called a pony tail and laughed upon when he saw me at the kitchen. I changed my mind upon a topknot, but he assured me it was a kind, surprised type of laugh. Well, we’ll live and see! Later that day (it was Tuesday) I didn’t want to go on the Physics Laboratory, oh how I didn’t want to go there, and it turned out, vainly. There were only two persons not counting me (my will eventually became stronger than my desire, and I came, although a little late), third one came closer to the end of the practice and started making the experiment on his own.
It was Wednesday, I guess, when I learned that Leonardo DiCaprio got an Oscar. Well, goodbye all the old jokes about him. I read it in the Instagram. To be honest, I also sin: during the breakfast sometimes I love to check the news feed on social media and drop a couple racist, sexist and offensive comments here and there (thumbs up who remembers my quatrain about myself and my behaviour in the Internet!)
Night Boston is a totally different city from what it is during the day. It looks abandoned, somewhat creepy. I ride my skateboard home, and still every little sound or silhouette on the other side of the road gave me those little goosebumps, which we, guys, usually never mention or accept we have those from time to time, so take advantage of me. Pictures shown here were taken tonight. I travelled from the Fens past Landmark Center to the C line of MBTA (the one that goes to Cleveland Circle), and followed it up to the last station, which is where I live. Around here, there is a lot of gossip regarding what happens in the high grass of the Fens during the night. I pass those grasses almost every night, and to be frank, I never saw or heard anything. Well, gossip is gossip. I use the road along the C line not only because it is the shortest way for me to get home, the asphalt is good and there is a bike lane all along the way, but also because I like it. I am the kind of person who would prefer long but landscapeous road to short but boring; in this case, I’m just lucky: the shortest way home is also the most interesting one. With time, however, we get tired of things, and I’m sure I will not be an exception.
As I passed along the streetcar line, I passed through an abandoned city. I did not meet a person, except for the electric workers who were fixing or repairing the overhead line which the streetcar contacts when running. The strange thing was that they actually have a special tram - transformer vault for fixing the overhead line (I wonder how do they call it, “tramsformer”?), but they still put an entire two trucks on railway wheels to do that (see the pictures).
Monday, January 25, 2016
Happy Students Day!
Happy Students Day everyone! As far as I know, most readers of my blog are students themselves, either of a particular college/university, or of Life itself, this does not matter. I was longing to post the congratulations here since it's the only time I am posting something on this day (at least during the projected lifetime of this blog), so this post will entirely be devoted to this holiday. Honestly, I was not able to figure out how and when it originated, how it is connected to Saint Tatiana, and what's the true story behind it, and the things, so look it up yourself if you're interested.
Needless to say, nobody wished me a Happy Students Day, no-bo-dy at all, although it's my third one while I'm @ the university. On the other hand, we're all students. If we live, we learn, hence we are students from our birth to departure. So once more, Happy Students Day!
Friday, January 1, 2016
A NEW YEARS POST
Happy new year, everyone! Upon its coming, it’s time to make resolutions and finally follow them, not making this year a typical another one. Upon congratulating you with probably the biggest and brightest holiday of the year, I hope to enter this year as a new, more energetic, more productive, more positive and optimistic person! I promise, I will try.
While bostonians enjoyed the First Night and First Day celebrations, I stayed with my relatives and a friend away from Boston. I guess everyone wanted to be with their loving ones at the Midnight, and regardless of either you were with those who you wanted to be with or not, I hope you were happy, and will stay happy for the entire year ahead, just like Nate Garner, the guy who, looks like, always keeps his thumbs up.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Third Year of the Events
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YEAR THE THIRD
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Introduction to the Third Year of The Events.
My dear readers,
I am honored to introduce you to the third year of my personal blog, that will continue as predicted, without any changes. I hereby announce that nothing in my plan has changed, and the blog will be existing for the next four years in order to observe my personal & life events as well as the events occurring around the World from my current point of view. Every Monday @ noon Pacific Standard Time I will publish a post observing the previous week. It will serve, as planned, as a news source until 30 June 2019, and as archived observations of the time since then.
I would also like to express my thankfulness for the subscribers & readers who have been with me for the previous two years or less, and provided the most important & necessary feedback for further development. I encourage those who have recently subscribed to do the same, and criticize the news on this blog as strictly as possible. You are the only persons I am writing for, & it is a great pleasure to receive strict & fair feedback from you.
A D V E R T I S E M E N T
The hard copy of the Second Year of the blog (2014-2015), in both hardcover & softcover, will be published and printed on paper as soon as possible. The book is already structured and prepared to be printed; however, the copyright and other editorial issues, such as ISBN and font choice are still to be solved. I am planning to publish the book on Sunday, 1 August and print the necessary number of copies by the end of the month so on Tuesday, 1 September they will be available for purchase. It is also proposed to publish several unbounded copies for a price as low as $1. Hardcover & softcover copies will be available for the price around $3 & $2 respectfully with worldwide shipping. As soon as any changes/delays will occur, the informational notifications will be posted. As always, the online access to my blog is, and will always be available online, for free, for all.
My contact information is as follows:
E-mail, Google & YouTube: vasily.rodionov@gmail.com
Facebook & Instagram: vasily.rodionov.9
Skype: vasily.rodionov
LinkedIn: Vasily Rodionov
Monday, May 11, 2015
Diamonds in the Sky
I am happy right now, and I am writing this to share some happiness with you. I have to mention from the beginning that it’s not that type of happiness when the life is completely great, all the goals are already achieved, there are money, houses, yachts, Ferraris, or whatever. Don’t expect this. Just try to understand me. This typical (or not so typical?) Monday morning I am having that “here and now” feeling. A very good friend of mine defined this feeling as such almost a year (10 months) ago when we were speeding in my Grandpa’s car. It was hot, the windows were open, and when she, like a dog, ducked her face out of the window, allowing a fast wind to massage her tongue, as canidæ are believed to always do, she told me that that particular moment she understood something. What she told me was that during our life, we are always waiting for something good, pleasant, positive to happen.In the winter we dream of those pleasant warm days but when it’s hot we sweat, thinking more about the fun of ice skating She told me that when she ducked out of the window, and saw those beautiful fields, and the forest far away, and felt the wind, the spirit of Mother Nature, she told me that it was her “here and now”, which usually happened to her very rarely, about several times a year. I believed her; it is very likely that more than 99% of our lifetime we spend waiting for this “here and now”. Sometimes it happens spontaneously, like with me this beautiful morning; sometimes we can plan it, it can be a birthday party, or a wedding, where we experience so much eustress. The main rule of life, which is very obvious (to live), sadly, is rarely followed. As for me, for example, it’s not that I just sit down and do nothing: it’s probably even the opposite, I live life fully, I get particular things from it (like relatively good grades, which I recently can boast about), but the point is, I don’t experience. It is experience that is remembered for a lifetime and passed through generations. We all should experience how beautiful the life is, experience it fully and every day. A very easy secret for it, which is basically not a secret at all, is to stop for a minute and think. Let me spend the two hours, which are left until noon, when I publish this post, on explaining you what I mean.
I am sitting on the bench here in Boston Public Garden. A girl wearing jeans and a yellow t-shirt just passed me. I basically don’t like yellow, usually this color means nothing good. Melissa’s velvet bedding was snowy white, but I know that under the fire of crematorium it first turned yellow, and only then became a dust. Bad things happen in the room with yellow wallpaper, as well as yellow tulips are given as a sign of separation. But it wasn’t the t-shirt, it was the inscription on it. It read:”My best summer ever” I have to assume that I love such attitude. Although it’s May, it’s already summer (accomplish the weather, it’s just great!), and the summer is here, it is happening now, and it is here right now to enjoy, not somewhen else.
It started yesterday evening. I knew the deadline for essay submission was at midnight, but do you think I was starting to write it? Oh please don’t make me laugh. I was sitting at a cafeteria, thinking about it and doing nothing waiting for the last minute to come. It surely was on time and I surely was three or four hours late, and now I am not sure if I will be given credit for it. But the things are what they are: I procrastinated, then I waited, then I actually did and then it was already morning, which made no sense going home to get some sleep. It’s not that I couldn’t write five double spaced pages faster (I usually write two and a half, and then I make them double spaced, it is psychologically easier), I just didn’t feel so. When the clock on the tower stroke midnight, my magic energy which was called “An Attitude To Submit The Freaking Essay On Time” turned into a shapeless spirit (a fart?), so I couldn’t resist watching some episodes of some TV series on YouTube, researching something very interesting but not in any way related to the essay on the Internet, and of course drinking tea, it’s out of discussion. The essay itself, however, was on an interesting topic, so I finished it relatively fast, before the time the person behind online writing lab could potentially wake up in the morning (although there are some who get up before three), and as I said going home for a short nap made now sense, because it would get things much worse putting me to sleep until about noon, when I have to submit what are you reading now to you, my dear reader. Until five after five I finished researching that very interesting material, which I don’t even remember now what it was about, and watching those really very interesting episodes the concept of which is not coming from the top of my head as well. So after that, as I usually do in such situations, I went (more skateboarded then went) to Starbucks, deciding to which exactly Starbucks I am going while getting there. I remembered that there is a nice one which I haven’t been to for a while, and went directly there. The one was located at 441 Stuart street. It was there where the realization of here and now.
Now, I dare you to think about diamonds. A small priceless stones which have exactly the same component as the lead of a pencil with the difference only in the structure of atoms. In diamonds, atoms are structured in special patterns, while in pencil lead exactly the same material is laid in layers. It becomes funny when you consider a pencil worth millions. Yeah, right there, in the small pocket of your bag and a couple more in the left pocket of your pants. Now think of the following: there is an object in space that is a huge diamond. Not the lead of a pencil, but a pure diamond. It is much bigger than our small planet. How fast the priceless becomes worthless there?
Monday, May 4, 2015
Thoughts on… on what?
I dare you to think about loneliness. If this topic bothers you so much, think of this: what about skateboarder-traumatologist? Is he a person who really do not need anyone? And if so, how is it possible?
Way too many thoughts in my head (well, where else can thoughts be? In the butt? Let’s suppose I know some people who take their thoughts only from there), I need a relief. Have you ever thought on how difficult it may be to fiston Public Garden which is fifteen minutes walk from here because it’s inconvenient. I know that the charge on my phone is 10%. Those batteries are so very unreliable. I can’t believe I live in XXI century. There are so many places without wireless internet, and computer or smartphone batteries are only for several hours or so. I have a single adapter so I can charge either my smartphone or my laptop. I don’t want to spend money on another charger knowing that there is a number of them at Mum’s home. This is a topic for a different thought. Why do different countries have different standards? Where those came from, and why can’t they consider one for all? This laptop annoys me. Not only it is not able to use wireless internet (cable only), it also suddenly stops. For instance, when I am writing something, it suddenly stops working, and I only notice it when half of a centence is not written. I am now on Copley square, sitting here at a border of a fountain. I ewanted some grass to lie on, but it’s very dirty here so I won’t feel relaxed if I lie on such grass. I can only sit on my skateboard (that’s mostlyn what it is for, most places in Boston are not skateboardable). There are a lot of homeless here, which drives me nuts. Why are they called homeless? Homeless is a word which describes a person who lost his home, this word brings pity from the depth of my soul. Why are they called homeless? This word is not applicable to them. They are just people who don’t want to work. Those who are comfortable with asking for money from strangers. Now, I gotta go from here and finally make it to Boston Public Garden. I am tired of sitting in this pose.
I love to watch school students. Most of them are definitions of perfect human beings. They are in the age frame before annoying childhood and before college life with its sober drinking, weed smoking and random sex. Mentioning those things, a neigbour of mine comes to the top of my head. We are both students with Health Sciences major, but how different we are! He is completely the opposite of my definition of a perfect Man. I will try to describe him from the rational point of view. His name is James, and I will not mention his family name because I am sure that he will read this, and then will be like “Oh why did you write such things about me for the public?” For you, James, to not find me impolite and rude, I will not. Please correct me if I am wrong with something, I am trying to describe you not as a single person, but as an example of mass of people, hundreds of thousands modern citizens of Earth around the Globe. So let me begin.
James is twenty-two years old. Looking on his pictures he posted on Facebook when he studied at school several years ago, he looked different but much better. He served in air forces, where he also worked and was given a special pill to sleep about an hour a day and no more. Thanks to air forces, he entered Northeastern University’s college of sciences and is currently studies there (I am not sure about what year is he in). He loves drinking alcohol and smoking marijuna. He is obsessed with those things and smokes and drinks every day regardless his mood and time.
James was not born to know what is Freedom. “The Three Things”, as I call it (in James’s case, Marijuana, Alcohol, Women) enslave him. I love to talk to him, and fortunately, we are never to understand each other, because we speak on different languages. Let’s consider The Three Things. I was trying to understand why James smokes marijuana, and I tried to talk to him about it, which did not bring any reasonable conclusions. I asked if he was not happy wit his life, and was looking for happiness in the things he smoked and drunk, in the things the result of using which he called “to be high”. He explained me that he is happy with his life, but was he is doing was just “for a different kind of happiness”.
The other day I saw James drinking vodka with his female friend, Lily. It was behind the borders because it is commonly known that only the alcoholics drink vodka, which is, by its nature, almost a pure alcohol, but I avoided any comments because I was trying to understand him. They were doing it before going to a concert, which made even less sense. If they were about to visit the concert they were longing for, and hence experience a lot of positive emotions there, why drinking such strong alcohol in purpose to feel that “different type of happiness”? Is it so hard to understand how that different type of happiness feels and why one needs it, like it is difficult for a goldfish to understand the basic principles of solving mathematical equations? Or am I refusing to understand?
Jason is obsessed with random sex. The other day, when we had an interesting conversation about the World in general and its structure, he eventually changed the topic and started boasting that from the ten attractive girls he noticed on his first lecture for one course, he had intimate relationships with two of them. I immediately asked him if he felt comfortable boasting about this and told him that it is shameful, but in the long run we’ve reached the consensus that we simply look on the things from the different point of view and that it will be interesting for us to get to know each other better in future. However, a lot of questions remained which I want to ask Jason, and hopefully will, regardless how impolite they may sound.
I am lying on the grass in the Garden now, and with the help of my skateboard my clothes stays dry. How worm, how peaceful it is here! I would be in some sort of paradise if it wasn’t for the geese’s poops, which are especially visible in the border of water in the pond and lawn. The general point of view on intimate relationships between a man and a woman in modern society is very far from ideal. What are the human feelings? How to define them? Throughout the history of mankind, society in general was developing like a person. The “moral revolution” happened circa anno domini 1920. From that moment this point of view was changing to the worse. Although, I can argue about that with myself. It is obvious that a lot of things have turned upside down around that year, but did it bring us to the worse or we are experiencing the changes that will eventually lead to the better. There is something people can do.
Twenty first century brings a lot of surprises, and those of them uncovered were really nice. I consider it pointless to least the technological achievements and focus on the cultural. A number of things are currently being reconsidered.
Way too many thoughts in my head (well, where else can thoughts be? In the butt? Let’s suppose I know some people who take their thoughts only from there), I need a relief. Have you ever thought on how difficult it may be to fiston Public Garden which is fifteen minutes walk from here because it’s inconvenient. I know that the charge on my phone is 10%. Those batteries are so very unreliable. I can’t believe I live in XXI century. There are so many places without wireless internet, and computer or smartphone batteries are only for several hours or so. I have a single adapter so I can charge either my smartphone or my laptop. I don’t want to spend money on another charger knowing that there is a number of them at Mum’s home. This is a topic for a different thought. Why do different countries have different standards? Where those came from, and why can’t they consider one for all? This laptop annoys me. Not only it is not able to use wireless internet (cable only), it also suddenly stops. For instance, when I am writing something, it suddenly stops working, and I only notice it when half of a centence is not written. I am now on Copley square, sitting here at a border of a fountain. I ewanted some grass to lie on, but it’s very dirty here so I won’t feel relaxed if I lie on such grass. I can only sit on my skateboard (that’s mostlyn what it is for, most places in Boston are not skateboardable). There are a lot of homeless here, which drives me nuts. Why are they called homeless? Homeless is a word which describes a person who lost his home, this word brings pity from the depth of my soul. Why are they called homeless? This word is not applicable to them. They are just people who don’t want to work. Those who are comfortable with asking for money from strangers. Now, I gotta go from here and finally make it to Boston Public Garden. I am tired of sitting in this pose.
I love to watch school students. Most of them are definitions of perfect human beings. They are in the age frame before annoying childhood and before college life with its sober drinking, weed smoking and random sex. Mentioning those things, a neigbour of mine comes to the top of my head. We are both students with Health Sciences major, but how different we are! He is completely the opposite of my definition of a perfect Man. I will try to describe him from the rational point of view. His name is James, and I will not mention his family name because I am sure that he will read this, and then will be like “Oh why did you write such things about me for the public?” For you, James, to not find me impolite and rude, I will not. Please correct me if I am wrong with something, I am trying to describe you not as a single person, but as an example of mass of people, hundreds of thousands modern citizens of Earth around the Globe. So let me begin.
James is twenty-two years old. Looking on his pictures he posted on Facebook when he studied at school several years ago, he looked different but much better. He served in air forces, where he also worked and was given a special pill to sleep about an hour a day and no more. Thanks to air forces, he entered Northeastern University’s college of sciences and is currently studies there (I am not sure about what year is he in). He loves drinking alcohol and smoking marijuna. He is obsessed with those things and smokes and drinks every day regardless his mood and time.
James was not born to know what is Freedom. “The Three Things”, as I call it (in James’s case, Marijuana, Alcohol, Women) enslave him. I love to talk to him, and fortunately, we are never to understand each other, because we speak on different languages. Let’s consider The Three Things. I was trying to understand why James smokes marijuana, and I tried to talk to him about it, which did not bring any reasonable conclusions. I asked if he was not happy wit his life, and was looking for happiness in the things he smoked and drunk, in the things the result of using which he called “to be high”. He explained me that he is happy with his life, but was he is doing was just “for a different kind of happiness”.
The other day I saw James drinking vodka with his female friend, Lily. It was behind the borders because it is commonly known that only the alcoholics drink vodka, which is, by its nature, almost a pure alcohol, but I avoided any comments because I was trying to understand him. They were doing it before going to a concert, which made even less sense. If they were about to visit the concert they were longing for, and hence experience a lot of positive emotions there, why drinking such strong alcohol in purpose to feel that “different type of happiness”? Is it so hard to understand how that different type of happiness feels and why one needs it, like it is difficult for a goldfish to understand the basic principles of solving mathematical equations? Or am I refusing to understand?
Jason is obsessed with random sex. The other day, when we had an interesting conversation about the World in general and its structure, he eventually changed the topic and started boasting that from the ten attractive girls he noticed on his first lecture for one course, he had intimate relationships with two of them. I immediately asked him if he felt comfortable boasting about this and told him that it is shameful, but in the long run we’ve reached the consensus that we simply look on the things from the different point of view and that it will be interesting for us to get to know each other better in future. However, a lot of questions remained which I want to ask Jason, and hopefully will, regardless how impolite they may sound.
I am lying on the grass in the Garden now, and with the help of my skateboard my clothes stays dry. How worm, how peaceful it is here! I would be in some sort of paradise if it wasn’t for the geese’s poops, which are especially visible in the border of water in the pond and lawn. The general point of view on intimate relationships between a man and a woman in modern society is very far from ideal. What are the human feelings? How to define them? Throughout the history of mankind, society in general was developing like a person. The “moral revolution” happened circa anno domini 1920. From that moment this point of view was changing to the worse. Although, I can argue about that with myself. It is obvious that a lot of things have turned upside down around that year, but did it bring us to the worse or we are experiencing the changes that will eventually lead to the better. There is something people can do.
Twenty first century brings a lot of surprises, and those of them uncovered were really nice. I consider it pointless to least the technological achievements and focus on the cultural. A number of things are currently being reconsidered.
Monday, April 27, 2015
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