Week Thirty-Nine: Altered Senses

You know that feeling when things go all sideways? And no, that doesn't mean the feeling fueled by controlled or other outside substances. This is about Life. Perspectives are a screwy business. Just when things seem well sorted, Life happens and Perspectives shift. Futures once so clear become the stuff of parallel universes. Recent events and conversations have indicated that one can have one's Heart broken without ever realising one's Heart was in any danger. Most people would avoid such perilous situations, or at least see them for what they were and brace for impact. Others don't see it coming, and find themselves looking at a post mortem in an impressive imitation of the old RCA Victor dog. Heavy stuff for a photography blog. Hmmm. Here are the photos.

Day 1 (267): 1st of September
Quiet roar of cars on a morning street. Not so many that it makes a cacophonous backdrop; streets only slightly damp with the night's precipitation source the sound of the sporadic set of wheels, then echo it against the odd strain of a distant street musician and off myriad storefronts.

Day 2 (268): 2nd of September
Late night music wafting over the air and the sound of rain. The occasional frog squeak and dog bark add to the orchestration, but not even the usual chorus of house alarms and draconic water heaters dares ruin the soundtrack of a peaceful night. 

Day 3 (269): 3rd of September
Acrid smell of wood stain battles with Midnight Dare and the shampoo in my hair. Even the familiar scent of Things Burning and Neighbours Cooking cannot overcome the much closer and more powerful malodourous chemicals now coating my porch roof.

Day 4 (270): 4th of September
Deep molasses of exhaustion turns muscles into sand; even facial muscles become heavy and difficult to control. Insomnia paired with the drone of planners attempting to put together lofty strategies with no regard for established requirements, force even the most dedicated and caffeinated meeting-goer to fight to not tumble face first out of the chair.

Day 5 (271): 5th of September
Fierce flavours of garlic, rosemary, pepper, and strangely enough a tiny bit of dill paint a colourful picture on the tastebuds. When added to mozzarella, tomato, and the juiciest sausage ever to grace the surface of a pizza, the effect is the kind of divine food-vana reminiscent of a religious experience localised in the mouth.

Day 6 (272): 6th of September
Dark clouds race from the north, threatening the busy weekend errand-doers. When the clouds open up, all senses are flooded (if one is brave enough to walk from the safety of the shop through the deluge with one's bags). Rain the perfect temperature, if a bit enthusiastic, smacks the skin and soaks the clothes; the taste of slightly contaminated precipitation slips into the corners of the mouth; the air takes on the distinct scent of dry earth and asphalt suddenly doused; with all other humans hiding under shelter, the only sound is that of thunderclaps and a great downpour on metal, cement, foliage, and flesh; nothing is more beautiful to witness than a massive storm, complete with great flashes of lightning.

Day 7 (273): 7th of September
Joy of lovely morning sun peering in through the gaps in the closed metal shutters hinting at a beautiful morning and fruitful day. Nothing can sully the view for the eyes of those determined to be content. Soft light, soft clouds, and clear air promise better times ahead.

Gratuitous black and white.

Lots to ponder. Apologies for the dramatic twist in tone, but sometimes these things happen when one's mind is occupied with a particular set of thoughts and that same mind is the kind to obsess and stew far beyond the point at which most sane human beings would move on. 

Week Thirty-Eight: Fenestration and Circumvolution

This week features a trip to Ireland, but first the Internet offers up a word each day. Not because there is a vocabulary drought, but rather because words are so lovable. My brain files have so many collected in the great halls of Stuff I've Learned, but accessing just the word at just the right time sometimes proves difficult. Aren't words just gorgeous? The ubiquitous They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, but it really isn't that simple. My pictures are worth 500 at the outside, and sometimes just the right choice of word can paint the perfect picture far better than any camera or canvas.

Day 1 (260): 25th of August
Bloviate i.v. To speak or write at length in a pompous or boastful manner.
How appropriate that the first word in a personal blithering blog is all about being wordy. Granted, the intent is that this particular blog not really be pompous or boastful. All there really is to boast about is the level of self-deprecation. Or perhaps the extent to which things only just don't get screwed up too badly. Windows are lovely and can really make for nice photos when captured the right way.

Sometimes the right way is hard to execute. Does one go fully centered? Slightly angled?

How much monkeying about in post is too much?

Day 2 (261): 26th of August
Rhetorical adj. Of or relating to rhetoric. Characterized by language that is elaborate, pretentious, insincere, or intellectually vacuous.
What, then is rhetoric? Many things, it turns out. It is everything from the undue use of exaggeration or display, to the study of effective use of language, to the art of prose in general as opposed to verse. We all know about rhetorical questions; we use them every day. The entry for yesterday used a couple. But the rhetorical behaviours that fall into the "pretentious" and "intellectually vacuous" are the ones that really cause great personal frustration. I've not time or tolerance for pretense. Nor indeed do I give time to the vacuous. It is not worth it. Here are a couple more windows. They have some other windows framed within.

Yes, these are only more loosely windows, but they came out rather well.

Here you go. Proper windows. A bit overdone in post, but it doesn't look too terribly bad.

Day 3 (262): 27th of August
Transitory adj. 1. Not lasting, enduring, permanent, or eternal. 2. Lasting only a short time; brief; short-lived; temporary.
Some things are best left in a transitory state. Other things are sadly brief or temporary. Still more hardly make it out of the intellectual and into the realm of the actual. When one lives an unsettled, ever-shifting life, one comes to terms with the transitory aspects of the universe, but one is still acutely aware of those things one wishes to pin down just a tiny bit longer. This is yet another window. A funny one, and one that I see every day.

Day 4 (263): 28th of August
Obstreperous adj. Noisy or rough, esp in resisting restraint or control.
As often as I've been accused of being stroppy, the term has been taken in as part of the essence of Rodeo. Thankfully, while stroppy is a colloquialism based on the word of today, it does not mean precisely the same thing. I may indeed resist restraint or control, and am bloody-minded about most things, but I don't always do so roughly or noisily. In fact, such resistance and bloody-mindedness generally manifests in the opposite manner. What is not quiet, but is also not rough, is Indy. She finally got her long overdue ride. It hurt the old spine a tiny bit, but it was worth it. She was grateful as well. 

Can't you just see the contented smile on her face? It's just there.

Day 5 (264): 29th of August
Degust t.v. To taste or savor appreciatively.
Just the thing to do in Dublin. Be it the food or the booze or the environs, one can appreciate every bit of the place. This being a first ever trip to Ireland, it has made an impact. Somehow every time I travel to places like the UK and Ireland, I just feel at home. Like returning to the Mothership. Must be all the Celtic and Gaelic blood.

Dublin is a lovely place. Did I say that already?

This guy is pretty great. He is outside Trinity College. What a gorgeous set of buildings.

Day 6 (265): 30th of August
Prescience n. foreknowledge of events; divine omniscience; human anticipation of the course of events. How good of you, Dear Internet. You have offered up the perfect word for today (maybe for the week). There are so many times we think we know how something will pan out. Some of those times, we turn out to be correct - such as those times when the athletic team we support wins the game we've come a long way to see (despite it not being a team we may normally care about... sports are just fun).

Other times things just don't pan out as planned and / or expected and / or hoped. If only one had true prescience, one might be able to avoid the more disastrous moments in life. Those are the times meant to be avoided; experiencing them doesn't help anything or build character or teach us lessons (most have been learned already).

If only the behaviour of friends and perfect strangers could be predicted. At least some of the time. The rest can be left up to chance. That keeps it a little interesting.

Day 7 (266): 31st of August
Pulchritudinous adj. physically beautiful; comely.
Another perfect word from the Internet of Good Choices (as opposed to the Other One). Weather went all pulchritudinous today; it was downright warm and nary a cloud in the sky. Lovely weather always helps to set one's mind and mood a bit more to rights. Doesn't really heal bumps and bruises (that's why they made ice), but it can help make them not such a distraction. Night People may rather suck, but Day People and Fall Weather certainly do not.

Probably should have not gone and made Saint Patrick's Cathedral monochrome, as it loses the impact of the really blue sky, but I like it better this way.

The garden by the cathedral was even nicer. I love little details like these.

This little guy certainly agreed. He was the focus of attention for about ten minutes. Amazing how therapeutic staring at a little bee can be.

At least I didn't have to change months in the middle of the week. So there's something. 

Week Thirty-Four: Murphy's Back for More

All my life I've had a love-hate relationship with Murphy of Legend. His Law has long been woven into the fabric of my life, much like Monty Python, ISIRTA, and large equine quadrupeds. How it chooses to manifest is always a surprise, and when it works out in the end I am the first to offer thanks. Other times it is just hateful and obstreperous. Yes, I just used the word obstreperous in a photo blog. Deal with it.

Day 1 (232): 28th of July
Such a drag when the day starts earlier than is legal when one has gotten no sleep and has a seemingly unending journey on the itinerary. Not to mention rending one away from the delightful clutches of home and hearth. One would think these things get easier with practice (and I've had some practice, let me tell you). Truth is (apparently) that it never gets easier, and in a way gets more tiresome. In my silly youthiest years, I rebelled against a great deal of things (most of them illogical or not in need of a rebel), and one of those things was homesickness. I was far too cool to be tied to anything (or anyone) and wanted the life of transit and first class lounges. Was quite good at it, if I'm honest. It all seemed so sexy and easy.

Not that I hate travel - far from it. I still love gadding about and seeing all the things, but those fool blood ties and such are not so distasteful any longer. May be able to live any old place, but going home will never be a bad thing. Even traveling the posh way doesn't make the outbound journey more joyous. Just softens the blow a bit.

Day 2 (233): 29th of July
Best part of two days eaten by travel. And lots of free booze (not going to lie, it was nice). But now I've a headache to wake the dead and have to go to work tomorrow. And my power went out whilst I was gone. Thus my fridge and freezer were stinking soggy moldy heaps of vile malodorous death full of meat, veg, and cheese that had gone off beyond what can possibly be natural. Much bleach and profanity later I have a fridge with rather little in it as far as food. So this is all I will be giving you for the day. Munich, everyone.

Day 3 (234): 30th of July
Praise be I only have three days of work. FITREPs due this week, several new taskers accumulated in my absence, and apparently I will be embarking on the Good Ship Whitney (lord knows why) for a week. Just wait till the jet lag hits... Oh, and to add to the tiring litany of whinging, the power blow killed my wireless router. So I have no connection until I get a new one. But the sky is pretty, to there's that.

And there are clouds.

I may have been missed, but really, I think the Return of the Grub is more the cause for attention.

Day 4 (235): 31st of July
Found an old wireless router, but managed to blow it out, even with a transformer. Will just have to suck it up and go purchase a new one. Ugh. Buying things is annoying. So is moaning about every little thing. Isn't it? I agree. Photos are better. Here is a lighter.

And pretty trees.

And this guy again.

Day 5 (236): 1st of August
I'll not lie; the odd mood continueth. Got good news that I'll be teaching another class in September, and this one's in Madrid. Also learned that the reason I'll be embarking is simply because I am an officer and there were not enough of us going. Don't really have an issue with the trip; the commute from bed to work is about three minutes, someone else cooks all my meals, and we'll be getting some port time in France. I only rankle at the logic train. Really should know better after a decade of doing this. Logic has no place in the military. Which is why I put my TIE Interceptor in a tree.

Merry was rather bored by the notion.

But the Empire flies on.

Day 6 (237): 2nd of August
Despite the delayed-onset jet lag, have gottten crap sleep all week. But slept until v late in the morning, and then proceeded to do little more than my PT and read. And drink tea, because one just does. My alarm went all screwy again, so I await the gracious landlord's assistance. But now I have a new wifi thing, so am no longer disconnected (to the internet... life is another kettle of onions). And I may have to go in to work at midnight for about six hours. Waiting for that sort of call is really lame. Not lame is the 12ft Tom Baker scarf knitted for me by my darling Grannie. Now my TB hat has a mate.

Day 7 (238): 3rd of August
Praise the sweetness the call came to take me off the proverbial hook (not sure I know that proverb). Good news, as I've still not gotten back to a sane sleep schedule. Getting older is lame. So is having a poor vocabulary. Getting older is rubbish. That's a bit better. What is not rubbish is the display of amazing that is dance on my only reality show (SYTYCD). At least once an episode I can be brought to a complete halt by a routine. Usually those choreographed by one Travis Wall or one Sonya Tayeh. Honestly - their work can stop me mid sentence (not easy to do) or even mid chew (even harder). Check it out some time. In the meanwhilst, here is the random moment of zen for the day.

Murphy never rains, but he pours, no? But I suppose it keeps life a bit more interesting.