14.3.14 was a perfectly Mathematics Day . Everyone’s day, even those who have absolutely nothing to do with it, are aware and marked it in their own way. Naturally people are exact sciences bound or with a bind towards the humanitarian sciences. History hasn’t given any prominent concluding examples of geniuses excelling in both. There are also people with a penchant for theatrical play, or any play at all, society games. A generation of whining old folk twopence ditties. Besides, there are the infamously scheming viral fraudsters.
Well, I totally agree and know the grammar rule about the verbs of mental activity that are not used in the progressive, continuous tenses. Because, they by definition refer to complicated processes that take place inside our mind. Be it a brainstorming sort of activity to which we subject the brains to stir and activate all sorts of relevant or less so facts and ideas so as to process that output and fructify the ensued results. Experts would call that creativity, I’m positively in, but definitely based on abilities, aptitudes, skills, knowledge that a person already possesses has been consistently developing and is endowed with. Otherwise that would be a vain infertile spinning – a ridiculously tiny tornado in a cup of coffee. I’m putting on my thinking cap and proceed to my study. One of these days a Sherlock Holmesian deerstalker cap arrested my attention in the area of the National Opera and Ballet Theatre heading towards, I suppose, the next but one building which happens to be that of the Ministry of Economy. As that was a too early an hour for a morning walk, seven and a half as a rule – the owner was going to work, or study – investigate. Now, me personally categorically oppose to the idea that creativity flow is better provoked by a reclining position of the body, in a well-known Sherlock’s manner. I think, that is another attribute of that uniquely aggregated character that reflected the aristocratic mould, refined, elegant, yes opiated very often, the perfectly refined hands gesture of the smoking thinking pipe. People misconstrued and, be they superexperts in psychology, I think this is just another myth, dogma, stigma about the necessary conditions for deeply rooted mental processes. Sherlock Holmes was the master of logical deductions, very often indulging in little wrought investigative experiments so as to trigger a situation that would prove or decline the previously established hypothesis. This would be a plausible explanation for the currently heightened attention and interest towards this perfectly British character, that the Americans willfully borrowed and gradually he has become popular with the large masses worldwide.
Agatha Christie, by contrast to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (whose character was a very skilled detective but mainly an amateurish one), was a criminal investigator more intent and specialized. Her feminine touch in very profound descriptions of settings and emotional conditions of her characters very often of artistic professions – thus a rich material for psychologic study and analysis, created another type of chemistry, mix with criminal investigation. The little unnoticed old spinster could successfully involve directly into the whirl of events, not attracting much attention or interest, least of all suspicion, disarming the relaxed prudence and precaution of the perpetrators in the long run and revealing, unfolding the incriminalizing facts through circumstantial evidence. I like dearly both of them but categorically object to stereotyping and stigmatizing not to mention that I condemn any attempts of applying distortionately, extending those unique stories into an infinitely viral maliciously winding ware.
A second stage of the same act from the same muli-acts absurd play. The masked oblivious poor old comedian, anxiously peering through the layered make-up and the old gamester, the criminal specialized in burning bridges wringing his dirty hands. The months long elaboration, re-enactment finally has the decisive show-off the upper level of the popular on-line game “The Assassins Creed”. Behind the scenes in the left wing the amateurish snooker master waiting for the denouement as her reward for her long previous endeavors, her medicine for her dedicated sneaked exercise into the gearwheel. The recruited middle-aged mobsters wearing the distinctive Hello Kitty counterfeited anoraks and the deceptively worn out cowboyish shoes were spinning and rolling up and down the pin with their milky hands. Is the Chinese Hello Kitty 14 years old?!!! Alas these ones look and feel old – in their forties for certain. The Hello Kitty gang, the Hello Kitty generation, the 1m60 tall Lammies in the Barby mould. Under the protection of a similar two-meters-tall nullity patron, who knows the IT as much as to press some buttons from the command switchboard and the rest of the malicious activity acts are launching interweavingly one after the other. The maleficent orchestra director, wiping their mouths for the much waited performance. This surely is not a hobby a constant state of mind a disreputed activity on a regular basis. And the public masses. Checking for their accounts whether the dispatch has been sent to be smacked, even state affairs are being interrupted on the occasion. The transponder also would ping out the prearranged comedy twist, not that real drama of modernity.