I do crap. Because I can. I mean, because I can’t. Can’t do better, that is. Since you appear not to hate my Instagram-to-WordPress reposts enough, you have condemned yourselves to another week’s worth of instant snaps. One day, one snap. Each snap is crap with an even crappier story to go with it. Here’s proof.
Here are some gritty city snaps from my latest business trip adventure. Spending about four hours on trains and buses to get somewhere and another four hours to get back is only bearable when I spend time snapping everything.
Shot with my iPhone 8 and edited in Adobe Photoshop. Kidding. I don’t do Apples and I’m not a fan of Adobe either. Shoot me. Actually, shot with my Android-running Lenovo mobile, which is as badass as any Apple, and edited in Snapseed, which is, hands down, the best phone photo editing app around.
One of the many trains I’ve been
My favourite local graffiti
I’m bizarrely attracted to abandoned cigarette packages
The photo prompt for today is asking for a picture of nature. The extra task is to focus on strong leading lines. Nature photos are boring, so I took a snap of a bit of nature in the civilisation: my new heather plants. I tried to do something with the pattern of the shopping trolley and the floor. Like, make it into leading lines or what. Also, I’m kidding, I took this totally on random.
No subject is too low to deserve a photo. Every moment is a potential occasion for photography. That’s at least what I’m telling myself because I have no life and hence nothing to take pictures of. To prove to myself that anything goes, I did a photo shoot in Tesco.
We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and—in spite of True Romance magazines—we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way.
― Hunter S. Thompson
The first thing after I wake up is to look at my phone, with anxiety, to check what bad news, complications and problems have arisen while I was indisposed sleeping. What I found today on the phone though was uplifting comments from fellow bloggers on my yesterday’s post. I was almost pleased. (I’m depressed, hence I don’t posses the capacity to be wholly pleased.) I think it’s therefore commendable to say thank you to my readers. It was quite a warm welcome back to the community after I’ve been AWOL forever. One feels less alone online.
I have a health insurance card. That in itself isn’t particularly surprising, as where I live, health insurance is obligatory. My card is special though because I made it so – I had my academic titles added on it because I could. Where I live, academic titles are a decorative property – it won’t earn you a living, but it will earn you a better approach from people. I’d almost venture to say that my PhD secures me a humane treatment, but I don’t want to push my luck too far.
Since you present your insurance card to staff before you are granted any treatment at all, the staff that will attend to you will know that you’re a fellow doctor. It’s seriously working wonders. Some of the doctors and nurses I dealt with were not only polite, they were positively friendly. I know this to be not the default behaviour. As all of them took vivid interest in my titles and inquired how to enter them in the correct order in my medical files, I’m sure that it was a smart move to adorn my insurance card with the little extras that make people treat me nicer.
I can’t stand. No, seriously, I can’t stand properly. I suspect all of my body alignment is all messed up. I wouldn’t have noticed, had I not started to practise yoga. And then I wouldn’t have noticed, had I not occasionally made a video of my workout in order to check to what extent I’m doing it wrong.
I’ve come to suspect that I’m doing it all wrong, even those poses that look right at the first sight. That wouldn’t be much of a problem, except by doing it wrong, I’m likely crippling myself. That wouldn’t be much of a problem either, except I’m pretty much in permanent pain now.
Especially my knees don’t like my daily yoga. My shoulders, arms and neck aren’t too excited either. Perversely, it doesn’t hurt when I exercise, it hurts most when I do nothing. Like when I stand. Standing has become quite an ordeal. I focused on checking my alignment when I stand and found that I tilt weirdly forwards, probably putting undue pressure on the knees.
Now, the obvious solution is to stop exercising. That’s not happening, as I’m prone to addictions, and I’ve apparently become addicted to my yoga routine. I mean, I get up early when I go to a yoga class so I could practise my morning yoga before that. I have no clue how that happened, as I’ve always been strongly anti-exercise.
Another obvious solution is to seek out medical advice. I’ve been gathering courage, or rather the mental immunity, to do this for a while but so far I haven’t ventured. Now that I’m blogging about it, I’m more likely to pay my GP a visit though—if only so that I could report that it went as I suspected and that no advice was provided.
This sounds depressing, and I’m not sure what about it I hated the least today. Oh wait, I know now, I’ll need to see my GP promptly and report back with a triumphant “I told you so”. I like “I told you so”, it’s part of my culture and upbringing. There’s no better malignant pleasure than in “I told you so”, even when you tell it to yourself.
A whole new series of Orange Is the New Black has been released a few days ago. Since I act like I had no work to do and since I like a challenge, I challenged myself to watch all the thirteen episodes in a single sitting. I failed, but it was a borderline fail:
day one: was warming up and saw three episodes
day two: saw eight episodes and consequently went to bed at seven am
day three: finished off the two remaining episodes
I arrived at several conclusions:
Binge watching is harder than it looks. Even sitting is harder than it looks.
People are getting increasingly weird. As I was searching on YouTube for some clips of my favourite scenes, I found plenty of videos recording individual viewers’ immediate reactions when watching an episode. That’s even less interesting than watching someone unpacking an iPhone. It made me feel extremely embarrassed for them. It was mostly millennial kids, who are notorious for doing awkward things online. This is currently my number one on the list of lame things to do online (says a lame blogger who posts pictures of her shoes).
All TV shows, even those that are supposed to entertain rather than educate, have an annoying moral. The moral of the last series of Orange Is the New Black, pressed hard in heart-to-heart talks and would-be-teary scenes repeatedly throughout each episode, is that people are persons. I like neither moral lessons, nor statements of the obvious, nor pointless talk. An idealist man will spend time vainly asserting that he is entitled to something on the grounds of his being a person; a practical man, seeing that being a human doesn’t entail that one lives under humane conditions, will zip it up and deal with it.
I enjoyed the series more than it probably looks. I would even go so far as to say I hate it the least (at least for today). Despite the inevitable presence of ideology, the series has redeeming features, such as my absolute favourite character of the Russian-born Red, whose quote from the previous series that I saw a year ago is so to the point that I still remember it and recycle it in conversation: “Nice is for weak people and democrats.” You can’t argue with her.
Remember the other day when I ordered new shoes online only to test that my renewed payment card works and it did? (Disclaimer: I would’ve ordered the shoes even if I didn’t want to test my card.)
My order arrived in a matter of a few days, but it took me almost a week to pick it up at the post office. Theoretically, the post should have delivered the package, but I doubt that they even bothered trying. It would require effort and doing their job, god forbid.
I tested the new shoes on an extended expedition. They looked smarter in the catalogue than in real life, where they appear vaguely like old lady’s shoes. Since I am becoming an old lady, I thought it about right.
What convinced me for keeping the shoes was the pure awesomeness of how they feel on the feet. The manufacturer sells those with some bombastic labels attached, claiming their comfiness, but of course it didn’t occur to me to take the slogans seriously.
For once, it wasn’t entirely false advertising. I withstood the whole day without major damage to my highly hurt-prone feet. It’s just a shame that one has to pay such an unchristian price for reasonable quality. I wonder if it’s a punishment for me not being a Christian. (But I doubt that.)