Tuesday in a room

I want to be honest with myself and not hide my own laziness and weakness in perspective of the future rereading of these notes.

The whole day I could observe the variety of gray clouds above geometry of housing area. It went to the right verge of the window as well as rare planes flying somewhere from the nearest airport. My sketches were put on the bed in order to be observed, and pencils were at the table to use them directly. I did draw the sketches, yes. But the more frequent move was the escape. It took different forms like watching book reviews, refreshing Instagram, reading the university sites, making tea, eating dried fruits, going to the kitchen to fry the lunch. After the midday, I went to the idea of “just listening” the film which led me to Virginia Woolf’s writing – “The hours”.

After the midday, I went to the idea of “just listening” the film which led me to Virginia Woolf’s writing – “The hours”. Maybe, my vision changed by the influence of constant watching the classic, but it seemed me so scarce and hard to understand that couldn’t believe I liked it years ago.

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In a word, the whole day I tried to avoid working on the mastery in a proper way. But the truth is that I must do this and there is no other way but actually working on it. It reminds me the way I successfully avoided some tasks on the book art course; I had them done as quickly as possible in the most concentrated condition (which is the effort, not the mood to wait). So I need to have this done, it’s decided.

Perhaps, I can sound pathetically, but I suppose I need to come back to the idea of the essence of life. It means the understanding of every single day as a part of your own life. Nobody procrastinates in dreams, but everybody achieves. Isn’t it simple? What is great and exciting for me to achieve during this seven weeks? The answer is certainly not “have watched all book reviews on YouTube” or be in touch with every picture on Instagram. Sometimes I really want to turn them off and leave only the Anki-droid and Dictionary.  As I understood I totally cannot accept the work on somebody, I need to be responsible and independent. (the bad side of which is inconsistency and uncertainty) I need to feel my own control over my own life.

good old Sunday evenings

So Sunday is losing its power above everything and concede a place for another study week. I’m in the usual for weekend’s evening after-bath mask. There is a good old comfort of Sunday evening which reminds me school time when we went to the bookstore with parents and made dinner with the noise of comedy show or news. I was reading much more than now.

But surely this day as a few before wasn’t congenial at all. Even today I went out of the room just for “not being in the room alone”. I had delicious noodles for lunch, bought two nice t-shirts at the Russian shop and a stylus for the phone. Even when I went down to the supermarket I could hardly be logical on my own (here we are! ) sadness. It went out of the lack of control over my own life on the day-to-day basis. There is no option of modification or deviation. I have to do what is to be done for the session. And it could be nicely endured by me if it wouldn’t take almost all the time with some dull connections and useless talks. I hate meaningless, and it’s the point. I must remember.

However, as I felt killing time was not my main reason for melancholy, the main one was a well-known sense of loneliness. How unique! My position of double life helped a lot in alienation. People aren’t dull, they see tribesmen. At the supermarket, I saw peripheral vision a known girl standing in the queue. It was like the invasion into my Sunday routine. I run away and hurried up to not to meet her again. Talks and smiles, you know. Nastya is quite happy in her successful private life in the new room. Which is nothing with me at all.

Certainly, I’m going to visit home at the vacation – it’s too hard for me to endure the whole time though I know it’s a good test. But, yes, it’s good to remove some things.

Finally, I cannot throw the study on the road and move forward without, I need to put it into the proper place, get papers and move forward.

The difficult week

This study week can be called finished, and I’m really happy about this. It was incomparable difficult for me in an emotional way.

Since the roommate appeared on the night of Tuesday I had problems with sleeping and keeping calm. I couldn’t sleep well as far as she was up until five o’clock. At Wednesday I got up at 5.30 as I wanted and she went to bed in five minutes after that. During all the days staying up and talking to people seemed enormously hard almost impossible. The whole being looked unbearable. Talking to people I don’t like, sitting at the lectures while the teacher is remembering conversations with celebrity, hiding my real position about all stuff and restraining myself almost every minute from all wanted. Coffee at McCafe, some new books, new equipment, ticket home and immediate death of the roommate.

But I satisfied myself in a wish. That was a skip of the anatomy lesson and walk at the Chistye prudie, tiramisu at the cafe near HSE and visit to the bookstore. However, in the evening I felt cracked, tired as much physically as emotionally. All I wanted is to go home and do worth things. Shiny chain of the cars was in a hence home while the storm was to begin. I was sitting at the dirty windowsill at the lower floor and crying to the phone. Very pathetic but that was honest. I watched Downton Abbey as a fairy tale before sleep and got a sedative.

The nest day wasn’t happier. Instead of my favorite Art history, we were to attend the conference which basically was boring and meaningless. However, I handed the pictures for the technique mark and made a maquette for the perspective. But that’s all. There still was a tiresome and disgust. Today I went for painting as million times before and thought about all those things around.

Today I went for painting as million times before and thought about all those things around. I don’t know, that’s all became unbearably boring and burdensome. Nastya lost her temper in the morning and we all got she was upset about something. We talked about different things basically empty. There were a usual chaos and humor. I couldn’t share their enthusiasm about Sasha’s birthday but was there. He brought a lot of deserts to celebrate it and girls ordered the pizza. All was fun and friendly but I couldn’t honestly share that emotionally. And I don’t know where the hours went out. Pity.

It’s only a month and a half before the ending.

Thursday

That was a bright day with all its little miracles and little disappointments.

Yesterday late evening my roommate came for a night. She brought the spirit of irritability and anger in her sharp manoeuvres. I was preparing the report for the art history and was so absorbed by the content that could hardly pay enough attention to her. But the attendance itself really decreased my clear focus and absolute excitement. That night I could hardly sleep and woke up by either light or noise.  (Now I got that I need to watch her by the other angle. I need to be more open-minded, amicable and philosophically calm. And remember that things happen not with us but for us. Maybe she’s cool and interesting though not my type of a roommate)

At the morning I got away very fast and quietly sat at the swimming pool’s hall with my report. While swimming I perceived that my legs reject to work obediently. But the water had become my ally, not an enemy.

It was a rush to hurry up for being in time on the lesson. But I was late for 5 minutes and had to hear the teacher’s cry. Good start. Finally, after the explanation of exam’s structure, she had set that the only report on the book art was to perform. All others were checked by words. The worst happened.

At the hall on the second floor, I was sitting in stupor came by physical tiresome and the dilemma: go or not to the hostel for the pictures to get the mark on the irrelevant subject or not. Then Vlad came and we talked about fifteen minutes in a very fun way. As I observed after he could make people feel comfortable and easy-going. So was I after that fifteen minutes of light jokes and discussions.

The rest of the day there was no actual work but talking, watching and going to and fro. I should value my time more careful.

It’s so magnificently warm and bright on the street, there is so fresh summer air which is talking to all of us to go out, to play something on the grass, to drink wine sitting at the wooden branch and watching the sunset. The image of summer is ahead.

But the morning was distinct because of the greyness of sky and hardship of being there. I did read the papers for the report and happily went out. I reckoned to paint today as it could be the college. There was almost no one at the workshop. Mahler at the headphones and the common stir around. It appeared to be so chaotic and disorganised (as it always is). I tried to be very concentrated and think about work but few times talks caught me.

Nastya didn’t want to explain to me why she hides the type of job her boyfriend (and my course mate) got. She became sarcastic and boasting because of my attempts to recognize. It struck me and I asked her whether she hurts me willingly. Her answer was yes and for some reason, it alienated her. At the lunch, I was sitting on the other side of the table chatting with other girls and then just went out. Afterward, she asked had I really been offended by that. In an artistic manner, I let her know that I don’t offense but change the attitude.

The teacher as always was going from one workshop to another grumbling about the attendance but without real comments on work. There were also talks about films and other stuff, music in the headphones and inner freedom to skip the anatomy lesson (because of the workshop).

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Quiet day at the room

This day was full of silence within and without. To my surprise, after the running at the park, I did the study. I sat down and made sketches for mastery. It was lasting long, I forced myself to not to dissolve. But to the lunch time, there had not been many sketches there had been just a few more obliquely drawn ones. Sometimes I can’t believe I need so much time for such a scarce work. Clearly, it has dramatically deteriorated since the college time.

And then, at the pause in my reading the for history report, something pushed me to look at the last Arts Academy exam exhibition. Isn’t it strange to look at the professors’ last names and get that in some different reality they could be my teachers. That is different reality though. The basic visual level is so much better than VGIK’s that it’s unfair to compare at all. However, I do not regret at all about the decisions and ways I go. But sometimes I truly need an inspiration for continuing the study (looking at the walls isn’t an options), sometimes I need to remember that smell of systematic, clever approach to painting.

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I mast not to roll down to looking for the lost paradise. The paradise is always farther, it always better in the future. It has more challenges, more achievements and more discoveries than its are now. So, please (speaking to myself), no search of happiness in the past. But there is one thing I can find in the past, it is the systematic hard-working for achieving the best. And I need to fetch it out of there.

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The other side of the day is my preparation for art history report. As the teacher allowed me, I took the least artistic topic but greatly interesting one. Magna Carta.

just monday

This kind of days most of us usually got up and see how terribly boring, dim and hopeless life is. The warm light inside doesn’t compensate the dampness and coldness of the weather.

I didn’t come to the history lesson but slept. My slow and thoughtful morning went to the silent being at the workshop. What it was all about? I tried to understand something in the air. It was so similar to all that evening at the college when I looked out the window and imagined different variations of future. In the room, there still were papers and easels standing in the twilight. What a terrible hush of routine! We’re drawing the torso. My pencils are short as someone doesn’t want to buy new ones. At the other corner of the room, there were Vlad and Masha laughing out loud about something unfamiliar. The calmness spread out to the canteen where we got a situation with the headmaster.

The more we were in the workshop the more it became a farce. It was almost physical hardship just drawing the torso once more in this life. I read news about the attack in SPb, texted Nastya, she answered that all was basically normal. I was amazed by her calm approach allegedly such things are normal and all will be covered up.

The English teacher was really friendly to me and gave me an opportunity to continue my way of studying part-time. She took me a task which I am to do before the next Monday. That was so grateful of her.

The days I spend on wandering to and fro are too excessive and influential to let them just happen. I can perceive (not just understand) the stream of time going in one direction. That’s why it makes me totally angry, upset and perplexed. That’s why sitting down to make mastery’s tasks I drink a few more cups of coffee, refresh the playbill and wash some dirty clothes. I’m bad at day-to-day motivation and hard-working on something alienated. But I still have to pass the exams and do everything as good as possible.

By the way, I browsed universities sites and watched YouTube video. That is how time may be wasted. I must come back to the idea that only losers kill their time at social media, watching series and Instagram feed. The people I usually adore don’t use their resources in such a way. It’s simple, isn’t it? The problem is the dream. It did push me forward for a long time but now I’m kinda between the places. The general activity of the study doesn’t work on the dream and after that, I usually need some distraction to come back to myself. And time goes further and further this way. I start to feel lost and dissatisfied by myself.

Yesterday Vlad turned to me in the conversation about socialism and capitalism allegedly I could know that all perfectly well. That was a hesitation and shyness. Recently I enjoy his talks, jokes and being in the room basically. Is it a sign of some feelings? I’m not sure. I can control myself quite well and consciously. But the same time I’m opened for something new.