I’m certainly crazy about the comfort at some parts of my life. I try to make my area as beautiful as I can without great efforts. But the most comfort is my working at the table, listening some lecture at YouTube, working up photos and uploading it into the blog. Some part of me would like to be kinda journalist.
However, I feel perceivable demand in warm friendly connections. But simultaneously it’s like I cannot be open enough to go into the sacred area of intimacy. I’m consciously too shallow in my approach, I don’t like digging the soul and looking at the depth. This is so maybe because of my personal fear to not to be liked and accepted. Someone is still a child. I am able to have as much small talks as possible during the lift’s movement but no reflection on art or politics. Please, no. I’m to incredulous about any subjective ideas and hardly can accept anything I haven’t understood by myself.
The day basically went good though I overslept my run and English. That was sunny and calm at the VDNH, only the roads were full of people at transport. I talked with the young girl at the big auditorium in spite of my desire to make acquaintances with different students. The lecture went interesting though there was mostly retrieval of my college knowledge, not new information. You know, historians like to talk about primitive people.
The free breakfast at the canteen was the milky soup which reminded me the camp time. I talked with the local girl about yesterday’s town’s day and then me and Nastya went to the library. It amazed me with later working hours and limitation in ready to take books.
The way to the hostel I was pretty sure in the day and in my study time in general. Sometimes I have bursts of energy and clarity in my mind. Specially at the mornings while there is no distraction.