My dizziness is a vex of mine. I allegedly have no ground below me all the time.  My medical card will have been ready in month. But what should I do now? It can be a depression or air need.
Weather is so inspiring with its blue colours of sky and shadows. It’s going four vocation days.

stories

Truly the story of our ex-classmate who had moved to south for her estimated husband is harsh. I wasn’t amazed with that descriptions of her behavior but with the whole situation. So pretty serious clever girl who was our ex-warden she slept with married man in view of Jane (I told about her in note on Irina’s birthday) everyday and morning, was often drunkard and did such a virulent little deals. Other girl Jane was working with her and living with her almost year. And she had histerics, hard days of work until night, not to mention the scenes there was so terrible that I wouldn’t tell it someone here. Zhenya said it’s the bottom of the bottom (meaning the first girl of course).

I listened that stories from second hand but it had touched me to think about people. We connect each other, but how could we really ascertain who in front of us. What would be with him\her in another side of life. It’s very important to safe good relations with good persons and look at new faces very diligently. And to be careful as reputation is easy thing to spoil but hard to improve. Simple thoughts in real affairs. And it’s a reminder to me how happy I really am to be at home (not forever), to create, to improve, not to sleep with people after especially drunkard night. I improve in every moment of life.

After that talk I went to go out (dizziness and weakness at all) and met Nastya from fourth course. I set to her and we were talking on usual but nice themes of study lives about fourty minutes untill I had felt myself so bad that was forced to goodbye.

And it was the sketches’ exhibition today.

Dr

Some kind of despair about my drawing developments. Two teachers went for me and said some hopeless advaces. How could I do what I do not know the way of doing great. Moment I’s watching my drawing with sceptical view. But it’s a ground my improvement rears from.

Tomorrow lecture about Lermotov datained me with literature’s teacher up to four hours. After my repitition she spoke me much about litretature, country, poets. As she excused for her outpooring I said my traditional way of answer. “It’s OK I’m good listener”. A lot of thing she said I could to reply but didn’t do.

The day was good as I felt energy and deserve to paint our nude stage. I finally covered my underpainting colour with strokes. Long time after my pouring into body’s colour we got break. It’s such a fanny kind of life’s way to continue to listen dull talk but not with the same keen face. I have a freedom to be strange and to be myself.

I dreamt about sleep sleeping and get up with sun lighting through the window. Two degrees instead of minus seven. Little dizzy inner.

Satarday

It’s more ok today with me. Morning was cold like a prose of my school days. I went to the Culture Institute listening a lecture about Bunin. The district where that event was is so desertly that from time to time trolley buses arrives like sand in a desert. I didn’t want to attend that and hoped to be late. But of course I was in time and saw much amazement on reseptionists faces when I said not first or second course but fifth. Corridors like in any typical school are empty and despairful. Alone I entered the study where it had already been fulled. It was like show I didn’t want to watch then. Just a haggard looking man with gentle manners and gruffly woman who cried on any reason. With girl from other course I spoke very restraining and selectively. Dufficult kind of questions I get at fast (only quessing play).

In the new cafe on central street it was very cozy to relieve. Only talks of cooks returned to reality. Only a quarter of hour and I had been better.

At home willingly I hold at my sketches. Two hours later pleasant emptiness. With all my straight it left me sad too.

Long restraint and fast issue

How could I be so weak and feeble? I was brake at drawing lesson in the moment what repeated a scene on the first course. There is nothing what had changed. And in moment all my self-pressure burst out me. I tried to restrain myself to say something cheerful but it didn’t work at all. And time by time I turned back to tears. And even now after so fascinating concert of Viennese orchestra I feel weariness. Weariness with everything so strange for me.
All I need time by time is to feel attention, love and interest.
I have no life at all, only my study, but that I do not really have too. I feel myself so outside from these deals.
What should I do now?

short day

It looks like November or Febriary now. It’s snowing nonstop the whole day. Pavements haven’t plain nice surface yet but white and cold. I feel a little chill with each of my cough though it’s really OK for sometimes sicking men, not for me.

I had arrived to the college early. En route there was such a fascinating music of love (main theme for girl solo)http://tinysong.com/1bmOW http://tinysong.com/1cU1y In the college there was no rattle and no stir. As yesterday only four students had gone today little more.

My underpainting with umbra doesn’t make painting good and I had covered it with the pallete knife. Three lessons in silence and with some music from time to time had finished fast and I got problems with dead colours on the neck and legs. I see much work needs to be done. The day after tomorrow is the exhibition of drawing and I’m going to spent the remainder of the day for copy. And I will be late with return the original drawing to the fund.

I find people with their speeches and manners of behavior so open – most of them (not all of course) can’t bear them or can’t be somebodies better than they are. It’s like tennis if you feel your companion isn’t self-assure you will be calm and answer him more considered and weighted.

It is still wind outside the window, trees are still covered with ice and every blow sounds like clinking glasses. Streets are so empty as its are cold.

I got up being dried and little ill. My mum is sick now and her influence let me ill too. But I drink tea with lemon the whole time and feel better than she is. It’s so her way of life to suffer a sick on foot and every evening speak “tomorrow I’m at home” and every morning she wakes up and goes to work.

I’ve done some sketches for composition. I think much about a theme of Verify. Often I’m affraid of explaining my notions to Br. as I expect to get some scepticism. But I’ve already sketched and it doesn’t matter.

It was the morning when I set in McD waiting for girls. They were late and I took som meal and came to the second floor. traditional saturday’s silence and tranquil view on the road. As girls came we began to drink free coffee and talk with new Mary’s boyfriend. He’s more fun than he seemed me. Today I’m Ok.

Weather’s influence

I had so vivid dream with a plot. THere was an attration of building what has a thin of building moving around. And there was a story of sister’s husband who writes tales and had spoke that he had seen a sheepman. And I was standing in front of a mirror where I so immediately beheld that sheepman. It was so uncanny, so hideous.

At the morning I got up hard at eight and half an hour. In hour I had already been in the workshop after overcoming of rain and wind. It was fanny to use new way of painting where only one underpainting colour would be covered with glazes and brushes. Time passed quickly.

And after a lesson of lecture I had to turn off and pose. And I had been posing more than two hours. At the beginning I felt really confuse with the process. On the whole it’s very unplesant to sit with lingerie in the room where everybodies are dressed. But in time I relaxed. Talks wasn’t very interesting as usual and to the end of I felt tired and wished to dress up and go away.

Outdoors it was no surprise to get seen a chaos of water, wind and ice. We paced carefully as could. On the bus stop I in ten minutes had understoden that no any transport there was. And I went on foot. Slew trees and weakly icy wire led on roads. Colours of wonderful disaster.