Wednesday 28 March 2012

A Mothers Gift


Inheritance is a curious thing. According to most folk who know my family, I am a younger version of my father. I have been fighting this all my life, disagreeing with the masses. I have recently realised, however, that there might be some element of truth in it. 


People say we have the same mannerisms, the same need to think everything through, to fix things, and our desire to prevent rather than cure. To expand on the latter, I find myself prone to this now that I am king of the castle. It pains me to say this by the way. 


My mother often semi-joked that she had little influence on my traits. I beg to differ, mother. You see, my mother has worn glasses all her life. On her last eye exam, she was declared worse off than before. So much so that the optometrist said there was no point forking out for fancy lenses for both eyes. Why? Because she was too blind in one eye for two to be of any use. True story.


I recently had an eye exam. I was overdue by about 6 months, noticed an increased dependence on my existing glasses, and had been getting dull headaches for about 3 weeks. My mother will be glad to know that I did get something from my her. My new glasses are stronger than before, so much stronger that the first few days saw me stumbling around the city.


So, thanks Mam, I did get something: your eyesight.


(Written while listening to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble - The Heritage EP)



Tuesday 13 March 2012

King of the Castle



In January, I moved to Sheffield, England with my girlfriend to start the New Job. This brought about a vast amount of changes to what I knew as my life: new job (all but one of the employees were new to me; new technical area); new country; cohabitating with my girlfriend; not living in my parents house anymore; leaving my friends, family and dog behind.


So, what's it like being the king of the castle? It's great! But, there are two sides to every coin. This is probably the freshest start I will have in my life, the one where most things change in one fell swoop.


I can come and go as I please (well, kind of!), know for a fact that if I leave my shoes in the middle of the sitting room floor there they shall remain until I find a more suitable location for them, I can use the toilet with the door open, the apartment is filled with food I like, the bed need not be dressed, and the dishes need not be washed.


The thing is, the above that involve not doing something (dishes, washing-up) are always done. It is strange, when I lived with my parents, I rarely had a desire to do either; cleaning and tidying was something done to save someone else doing it, or, more often than not, to avoid an ear-bashing or being frowned upon.


Being the king changes things. I find it difficult to leave the kitchen in a mess after a meal, or the bed undressed, or the floors unclean. My shoes are nearly always put straight away, and the door of the toilet nearly always closed. My parents were like this, and I never understood why it was such an issue; I always thought that if it was done half as often it would still be fine. Now, I take more pleasure from seeing and knowing my castle is clean and tidy than I ever thought possible. It is more therapeutic than I could have imagined; lazing watching telly is something that is more enjoyable knowing in the back of your mind that the castle is as it should be. I didn't expect this to happen when I became king. I am becoming my Father. Oh dear.


There are flies in this monarchical ointment though: you have to pay for everything. Electricty is not the wonderfully free resource it once was, nor is the right to stay in the castle. Chores must be done by me (or, mostly, by my girlfriend). The right to watch televeision is also an expense, as is the right to be hydrated and fed. Being king is expensive!


Do I like being king? Of course, the upsides out-weight the downs. It is a totally new experience for me (all of those listed above), an experience I enjoy. Unfortunetely - or fortunately - I travel quite a bit in the New Job (check out where using the location links at the bottom of each post), so I don't get to spend a whole heap of time there. But, that's for another post.


(Written while sitting on the casing of a very large gearbox, in a factory near Chengzhou, China, listening to the machines whirr)

Tuesday 6 March 2012

Impossible Photography


Impossible Photography


I have always appreciated the ability of artists to convey a message in a new way, or approaching a topic from a new perspective. I also love TED talks. The most recent one I have seen - Impossible Photography - explores a topic related to traditional photography, but which relies more heavily on the perception of realism. 


Erik Johannson uses perceptive, psychological, and editing trickery to combine traditional photographs to produce images which we know are impossible, but which we can't help but think are not.


I would strongly advise watching this for anyone inclined toward photography (or art in general), psychology, creative approaches, or even the curious individual; here is the link


(Written while listening to Hospital Podcast 166 with Chris Goss by London Elektricity).