There is a good note from Maxim Ilyahov about a way of analyzing something which doesn't concern you but annoys you anyway. It's reminded me of an American principle of non-judgemental attitude which I read about a couple of years ago. As for me, it uses different words to make the same point.
By the way, this principle presents in Russia too — there is even a famous adage “don't be judgemental so you won't be judged”. What a pity for us that it isn't so widespread yet.
As for me, it's a great illustration for an everlasting moan “why do you always stare at your smartphone blah blah blah”. A reason is quite simple: people have their friends, books, podcasts, games, and YouTube in their smartphones. It's much more fun than a frowning man or a grim women with guru syndrome next to them, for example.
The same is true of children. Social networks are full of arguments about it, but a reason is still the same: if a teenager flips through pictures in his phone in front of you, you bore him and a problem obviously is you.
I came across How to Be Perfectly Unhappy, Matthew Inman’s comic about happiness, unhappiness, and what those words really mean.
The guy has a great sense of humor, which you’d expect from the creator of The Oatmeal. When people like that get serious, this is often what you get: something funny, wise, and, I don’t know, disarmingly honest.
I found a beautifully presented diary by a Russian conscript who is now a designer at Art. Lebedev’s studio. Interesting, funny writing that you can’t put down.
I’ve updated my summer wardrobe a little. Minus the extra kilos I’d got so used to, I felt like an MMORPG character in the fitting room. I’d leveled up, and now I could wear better gear.
The problems are much the same, including the eternal question: “Should I buy this light armor set if I’m going to level up again soon?”
I wonder what percentage of pedestrians crossing wherever they please really struggle to reach a crosswalk, and what percentage simply don’t care about the consequences. I recently read Confessions of a Bowling Pin, Anton Buslov’s excellent post about crosswalks from the perspective of someone who is ill. But I still struggle to believe that all these well-fed people, who are hardly old, are too worn out to make it to the crossing.
It’s not so bad for me: on a bike, I can swerve easily and stop quickly. But I hate to think what it’s like for drivers and motorcyclists.
Berezovsky is incredibly quiet at night. Big cities can’t sleep this deeply: there’s always someone wandering the streets, cars driving past, music playing, some dogs howling.
Here, not a soul. Just endless streetlights and sleepy traffic signals. And dead silence. Not a single sound, apart from the echo of my own footsteps.
The feeling is… Strange. As though I’d ended up in, I don’t know, Silent Hill or Pripyat, rather than a small mining town.
