Today is one of those drawling days of Autumn when everything is highly repulsive. I didn’t want to go to the lecture but force myself because of the gathering after. The streets were filling with snow, more and more snow every minute. The houses became cold and distant, the view out of the trolley-bus blurred. All the way to and fro I tried to clean my mind and got a view.
At the cloakroom, an attendant refused to take my hat and a boy beside twice grabbed it to try. I couldn’t stand it and emotionally and unwillingly cried something like “Why people are so wild here?”. The boy answered, “It’s university”. Rubbish isn’t it. At the back benches of an auditorium, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. During the lecture on local history, I was forcing myself not to yawn.
She was talking about roots and the idea that finally, we must know the tribe we behold. Another time I found out that it’s not that evident to me to attach my own self to the idea of tribe. Even when she asked about belonging to the certain district I had no instinct to raise a hand. Strange.
There is the danger to fall down to little depression, there is an abyss full of potential triggers for sadness. I looked through apartments, houses, draw a bit (which helps a lot). The evening is good.
When the mist is soaked with the gingerness of light and black lines of the naked trees. It’s a mystery spilled around the streets. Romantic light of busy roads with a crowded transport full of tired and ugly people.
The day was stressful, tiresome and boring. The first lesson we were just sitting in the class and making English. I felt devastated even then. The misty view of the dormitory suburbs and the sound of the saw. I took a cup of cappuccino before the lesson and talked a bit with the girls. A tender street cat came to us gently. At the English, I was amazingly worrying about my reading and did it without an inner pressure. I simply could see those poems no more. And then when it came to the words I’d already been too overwhelmed for conscious learning. However, after the lesson and quick lunch at the canteen, I run to the library to do Russian homework. It was calm and secluded.
The next lecture was terribly boring, I couldn’t stop yawning. That was a torture to push yourself to the last lesson. Before that, we were sitting at the other canteen and drunk tea. It was nice to talk, not deep but fine. At the last lesson, we all were passing a test. That was tough, I wanted to close my eyes, to relief shoulder, to stop this dull work. It’s too much for me. At the road to the bus stop, I was talking with a group mate, she seemed me pretty and adequate.
And then there was a mist, with light in the depth of it.
The Sunday has almost finished and it’s a pity. Again there is five days before the next weekend. Tomorrow I will go to Dean’s office to be dissected because of my absence. I will tell that this behavior won’t continue anymore, I will ensure her some way. Maybe there will be their manipulation, pressure on me, tough words, an approach like I’m nobody but a piece of shit and other harsh tricks. It seems to me that it repeats again like I had already had the similar situation. And I actually had at least twice.
I’m tired of languages. Or it’s better to say I’m tired of this type of monotonous, boring, timid study. I feel dead. The Friday’s occasions were the clear signs of the teacher’s unhealthy nature. In parallel, I’ve got that I cannot work for other people at all, I need autonomy and initiation. There is no sense of doing something if I haven’t consciously come to this myself. I’m sick of the system got down from someone ahead. I like to be an initiator of the process (or at least some elements) but not it’s executor.
But I must demand myself firstly. There is no hope, no reliance on the outer world with teachers, systems, and strange people. The only person who is really concerned about my education is me. Nobody cares more.
I haven’t gone for either English or Latin lessons today. At the morning I busied myself with Russian History and contemplating on my letdown. Then at the lunch, I tried to cheer up myself and listened to the comedy talk show. That’s why I lost my time and was late for the Physical Culture. However, I managed to talk to a groupmate and change dress fastly. Then there was a counting of our reaction with numbers and regular jog around the hall. During the intensive running I was talking with Kate, she was worrying about expression she makes on the other group mates. She thought they see her as a monster. I saw no point and voiced silly idea about treating them on the Birthday. How calculating can I be!
Farther we did strange exercises in pairs. My partner spoke out a funny thing: What a natural crab you are! When came to my least favorite activity – volleyball, a man passed to us and started selecting for something. I used an interruption and went to other girls, they were playing badminton. That’s not tennis, but it’s near to it. We played a bit when the trainer came and immediately I was playing with her and girls were playing with each other. I liked it a lot! Yes, I hardly managed to be in time, the speed was much faster, but still, it was something I truly love to play in. (Tennis is better though, and the trainer doesn’t know technique)
Surely, I lightened after the training, mind became clearer and soul got a comfort. That’s what I needed and please, don’t mention English homework!
That is obvious that I’m too irritated about lots of things and it’s not good for me. Only thing I want just to hide at some place where people won’t achieve me. There won’t be any stupid questions directed to me with the pure wish to hear an answer, no comments to which I “must” respond. I’m craving to listen to clever people (or read them). This desire is so normal for me but now it’s felt like my brain is starting to rust. And it comes not only to the brain but also to the aesthetical part of life. I crave for beauty. The autumn’s gingerness, it’s misty air and variety of colors relieved me a bit. However, now when leaves finally dropped down, the trees don’t cover the ugliness of the building. And this upsets me dramatically. People wear their poor not-stylish clothes, there are many ungainly people in the ridiculous outfit. Nonetheless, there is no surprise, it still struck me on the same fragile level as it had been when I was in the fourth grade.
But the major reason of my irritation is the pettiness of life around. And it’s not gravity, it’s exactly littleness. People aren’t interested, not curious, they are strangely inert about their life (education in my case). And it doesn’t matter how many times would I say to myself “Work with your own life!”, when I see pettiness I often want to throw a spare in them.
Certainly, I don’t want to share my irritation with people but to pour it out. Frequently the major trigger for this condition is me. I’m not satisfied with life, with the way it goes and I see no soon improvements possible. I cannot even imagine a Happy New Year Eve. I see limitations and they gnaw me. Even the simple need of physical activity is impossible because of my cough. So I need to get out of it.