I need to describe, to leave some pieces of evidence of lasted trip. Saint Petersburg remained in my mind as a dirty, dusty town with spoiled street and grand architecture. That was a relief to come back to Moscow and open the door to my room. My routine at Peter’s was totally the life of Nastya: her room, road to the work, habits, and friends. That was clear to me that my life, whatever it is, is much better than her despite her independence, personal life, work, and perspectives. I felt like my own problems, routines and dreams are more suitable for me. They are totally mine and this makes them the best for me. The best match you’ve watched is what you’ve played.
My joy of living own life allowed me to work with a lighter mood. I could really roll up my sleeves and do need. Whoever the teachers and course mates are. I surely got that being a visitor at the theater is enough for me. No scene construction, please (Nastya will work with it someday). The other thing I got is that Moscow is the best Russian option for me (yes, despite all gray people, traffic jam, and housing problem). There are so many spaces for walking and working and developing. Immediately, I began to appreciate my being here and love little pretty details which define this town.
This day could be called miserable by some unpleasant point which begun the previous evening. The whole night I tried as hard as possible to focus and get asleep while the roommate was doing something with the night lamp. It was truly troublesome to make me relax. She went the Saturday night and spent the whole Sunday lying in pyjama in front of the laptop. I, in contrary, had a very busy and active Sunday. But in spite of all my weariness, I couldn’t get asleep and, as a result, today I had circles under the eyes and some tension inside.
I wore the new clothes: light blue jeans and beige cardigan. I must be a joyful moment of beauty. But while I was hurrying for a history lesson, I felt something that every girl wouldn’t prefer to feel in the light jeans. Yes, that was it. Fortunately, the lecture turned out to be a review of pictures and artifacts which are mostly well-known for the art department. I could relax and utter the answers easily.
The way back to the hostel, one part of me guessed that it would be a scene. At the morning I found out crumbs at the kitchen table and moreover the tablespoon stained in my coffee. It was a decision to leave a note with a message kinda “please, clean up after yourself and don’t touch my coffee”. Simple isn’t it. But there was a scene which I didn’t manage to control as polite as it should be. She assumed me blaming her for all sins. I was so irritated that the phrase “it sounds like an accusation” seemed me even on the way back utterly stupid. I explained her in a most impartial way I could – showing the real way of accusing and cleaning out my intentions and thoughts I wanted her to get. That was and still plain that she took offence and frowned even more. Ethical practice case.
At the way to and fro at the damp gray roads with dripping cars and trams (and everything), it seemed a day when one wants to give up all this stuff called life. When the walls, lifts, people, study look especially terrible.
But at the drawing, I laughed a lot and felt even relaxed for some time. Then it only decreased. The talks appeared illogical, impulsive and primitive. The sitter was out most of the time and I completely lost a zeal to draw hands and foot. I went out at three and on the way got that the roommate can be still there. It looked obvious. And it turned out so. She cleaned up one of my shelves at the kitchen and put there a plastic glass and a box of tea (instead of few cups and a stack of plates). I asked her openly whether she was offended and is everything OK. Her answer No was obviously unclear. Now she is lying in her pajama and, I perceive she isn’t going somewhere out. Not today.
Saturdays are my days of relief in spite of all possible business. Yesterday I went to the swimming pool as usual, but there was a huge mob at the hall – all were going to swim. That was lucky I wasn’t alone. The swimming itself went good, I could maneuver more freely and without that great fear to drown. I exhaled to the water more frequently though it was tough for me. The next time it’s better to swim by myself (without a board) and practice rowing as well as Kroll in general (the last time I tried it, that was like staying in the same place). The trainer said that the water loves relaxed people – I frankly tested it, but while I cannot afford to lose control.
That was a strange situation afterward. I went out with the girl from Directing dep., they went to the subway for getting at the institute. I couldn’t just leave them and go to drink coffee alone. That’s why I left them one station before institute’s and directed to the coffee shop. It could be foreseen that there be a queue and lack of seats. Finally, I amazed my stubbornness – every time I resolve to not to go there but from time to time it happens.
After history, Natasha clung to me with questions about life. That moment the last thing I wanted was a talk on life priorities and communications. At the crossroad, she gaily said that my second tour is passed. That was a joke when she said me “Don’t you want to be my friend?” But yesterday it seemed to me so terrifying. While I was passing her test she failed mine. All talks went to improvements of her life and problems with people. It’s not a good start for friendly connection, isn’t it?
The evening was beautiful. Without any delay, I got to be at the theater which seemed so good at the theater square beside all that stuff. There were real Moscow people in the real theater and it seemed magnificent. I was wondering around a crowd which filled the whole hall. There weren’t any free seats. Mine was on the first floor and a part of the scene was hidden. It didn’t interfere the joy of performance. The story of FRG’s chancellor and his personal referent who turned out to be a spy. It was not as detective as it could be. The stage was set smart and succinctly. Nice colours.
The night Moscow center won my heart. Colours and lights of old restaurants and historical places, clean roads, and walking people. I ate a plate of soap at the very center and could hear a talk of people who make money.
Another morning at my room with coffee and chocolate.
There is a point I mull over quite frequently. It’s not even a point but the condition I am in. Meaning all this stuff with the study, with people around, all my achievements in social life which are scarce. Yesterday I was watching an interview with Michelle Obama and constantly was being inspired by her position on life. “I’m a captain of my soul, I’m a master of my fate” and “if you can’t control your life, somebody else will do this”. They were so well-balanced, so profound in their approach and priorities. The both said the first thing someone should do is understand yourself. After that, I frankly passed the real psychological test and got a result which is the same time obvious and hidden. I’m an abstract thinker with the creative mind, it’s more comfortable for me to work by myself or with a few people. It also said that such big dreamer can be editors, philosophers or CEO. Fine, isn’t it?
After that, I frankly passed the real psychological test and got a result which is the same time obvious and hidden. I’m an abstract thinker with the creative mind, it’s more comfortable for me to work by myself or with a few people. It also said that such big dreamer can be editors, philosophers or CEO. Fine, isn’t it?
The other thing I truly got out of all this time in the institute is that whatever you want to transform into, you’ll feel happier being yourself. And development is being the best of yourself. Which means being not different but better. It’s easy though it went in a way of disappointment – I couldn’t manage so my connection as it was necessary for success in this field. It’s overwhelming. (it’s not all I wanted to say but my time is over)
This is the smell of spring everywhere. Those are the dried roads and mild air.
It was hard but possible to push myself out of the bed today. There were calm, yellow sky and no cars on the streets. Someway I got myself going to the institute and even be in time for the first and most important lesson, history. Instead of immersion into the 17 century’s passions, we were waiting for the teacher who set the projector – the first time for a year. Margo shown us the pretty fun app were poetry’s parts were to be transformed into emojis. We tried to remember the classical poem and couldn’t retrieve particular words. Then the lesson went a bit worse than usual though I comprehended it was a chance to remember the pre-historic material.
I felt tired as physically as emotionally. There is always one more day out I need. And a cup of cheap coffee doesn’t help crucially to refresh. However, I had some willpower to paint a canvas before the very dinner. At the canteen it was strange to begin with an odd talk with the animators then come to talk with Mary about cakes and then listen her chatting with cinema scholar who is (as I can assume now) is a boozer. When she speaks I discover what kind of drunkard lifestyle a lot of residents has. It saddens me a bit but makes picture clear – it’s not my company.
The rest of the day I forced myself to stay working in spite of harsh vulgar talks around. I had been to go since half to three but finished that all to the formal end.
What a strange day of damp deep gray streets and sadness above all the events. There was an early getting up and productive history lesson (though I didn’t answer questions). But then at the painting, I dived in the process. All waited for Vlad who promised the cakes for today’s celebration. When he came it appeared that he did the cakes by himself at the slow cooker. WOW – was a reaction of all the girls and me.
The celebration itself was actually ok. Certainly, it didn’t make me happy or anything else. It still is rather an obligation for me. Now it heavens with food preferences. The teachers brought the cakes too, and champagne with the appetizer. It was too much. Is alcohol at the midday such a good idea? Maybe from their angle. I diluted it with juice but felt it’s wrong yet. The atmosphere was easy-going, I could hear some close talks at the both sides of the table. But still, it seemed to me boring for some invisible reason.
Afterward, I painted more than usual and left the workshop to rest from all that heaviness. I went out a bit earlier than all as I hadn’t a cartoon for the study. At the hostel, there remained no desire to invest into mastery but to do lovely things. What a dilemma! Being a good student or being joyful.
I need some private life, some people of the institute to go out, talk and drink tea. Sometimes it’s simply terrible to sit in front of the screen in the evenings, without anyone lovely besides.