Memory of the fish

It was a terrible Monday. At first the money ended. Then he began to junk the Internet. A curious effect, by the way, is how it starts to take everything a little when the money ends, and how annoying the failures are as if the money is more true. Yesterday there was, what to fix the boot - that is why the boot is falling apart today, not yesterday. But about the boot - this is me, by the way. So - money, the Internet, some kind of common malaise. I went to bed prematurely - what if there is no Internet? In my head, it is as if the iron pokes in the skull. Some kind of disgusting night. Wormy dreams are like a metro, but it seems not to the metro, something like toilet catacombs, we are looking for crossings, train. Stuffy. Once again I wake up all wet from sweat. I get up in the morning, go to the next room - the fish in the aquarium died.

The filter shakes the air that is no longer needed; The fish sails in a circle. In the evening, everything seemed to be normal: the fish swam, ate, something shimmed with her small mouth.

I pour water, my stones, the aquarium itself. Everything is clean, sterile. Naturally, it was dirty with the fish. Gradually, life enters the rut. Money appears. The Internet is restored. You can, in principle, go to the store and buy exactly the same fish. But something in this is not right.

Life goes on as usual. An uncomfortable work and cultural rest alternate. I communicate with people. I report on the death of the fish. In the best case, the interlocutor spares me a little. For some reason, no one spares the fish.

It is clear that we treat a dog or cat differently. Yes, and the time is like this-either the age is: literally every second, some distant acquaintance died. Where is there to the fish, besides - a stranger.

This fish was presented to my daughter for a birthday three months ago. All parted - the fish stayed on me. I fed it, changed the water from time to time, cleared the filter - and now I did not protect it. It turns out that you can’t leave the fish on me.

This little death is more than an inanimate nuisance, such as a breakdown of things, less than others (God forbid) losses. The brain is feverishly looking for something good: it is so arranged for me-it is looking for what is not easy to find. Maybe we paid for something? The amount is small, but the currency is that.

Who knows.

We are different

I remember that in distant youth, among many common issues that occupied us, was this: in the depths we are people different or very similar ? That is, if you go with an unfamiliar, not close and unhappy person in one compartment to the ends of the world - and speak, speak, to make it to the point of what happens as a result? We will find ourselves closer to each other - or further than it seemed at first? Otherwise, if you formulate it from the other end: ash, superficial, not so important - is it more likely something common or, conversely, differences?

In my youth, it seemed to me that people in the depths are closer than on the surface. That we are praised by differences, play different roles, choose options. I was impressed by the metaphor of the last nudity - before the Lord.

It seemed to me that a lot would disappear as insignificant, and the essential - it is the same for all.

And in the feeling of this essential, we seem to go away.

Now I think differently. I really can’t imagine what is happening inside many, many other people living in fundamentally different than me. Moreover, an entertaining thing - the more details here to explain, the less it becomes clear. Because we begin from someone else's, inexplicable behavior, and then other people's, incomprehensible motivations, hopes, and anxiety are pulled out. It seems like a book with a title in an incomprehensible language was opened - and it is all in this language. Read and cry.

Important clarification. This incomprehensibility, foreignness for me does not mean condemnation at all. Just an ordinary maniac I understand - and condemn. Everything is primitive and clear. But the office manager (honestly, honestly!) I do not blame at all. But for some reason I can’t understand.

Sometimes it seems to me that inside we are all different biological species. And in this optics, of course, the role of culture is incredibly increased. That is, aliens around you, but if you behave correctly (and this is correct - more than the ceremony, protocol, ritual, this is a huge world experience plus intuition), then you will receive mutual pleasure from communication. And if wrong, he will eat you. Or rather - you will eat it, and he will do with you something that you have no verb.

Not to mention the fact that it is culture (plus intuition) that allows you to recognize your, so to speak, individual of the same species. Then it is already possible without culture, but this is further.

In my opinion, the sewage of the blogosphere, all this dirt, intolerance-unexplored amazement and horror from the abundance of others ; Not that the right, but a logical reaction to this is different, incomprehensible, remote.

And it’s healthier to fly by plane, which is not known with someone for a day in one compartment for a day.

Detail of the week

July 28 - Baptism Day.

July 29 - System Administrator Day.

The history of the country in 1 day. Progress is obvious.