It’s really hard to keep thoughts inside such a small head. Yesterday mom and I spend about six hours at the anniversary celebration of my grandmother’s younger brother. That was very queer for me. We went there by taxi. It was the end of a street in a country which isn’t so easy to drive. So, for me, it’s an obvious downturn.
We came inside and almost immediately we met my cousin. She changed in a bad way, got weight. I didn’t know what to do, people who in the best cases I barely knew approached me hugged and asked some questions (like we were close friends, but we weren’t). There was a long table with appetizers on it. I felt as uncomfortable as it was a foreign country to me. People around spoke Chuvash loudly, made stupid jokes and nickered. The whole evening I tried to keep my face friendly or neutral. But the food was good (thanks to a cooker). We gifted one of my pictures (which I couldn’t sell for years) and they seemed satisfied.
After the first serving, I went to the backyard to hide from the strange relatives and maybe to read. I suppose I looked exactly like silent closed people who sit with a book during a party. People were amazed by me not dancing or talking to someone. But once I was at the bench swing three older women surrounded me and interrogated with obvious but hard to answer questions. Where am I, what do I do and etc? My official legend is Moscow, VGIK (what rings no bell in their mind), painting. It’s not so easy to tell it when you don’t feel it in so many levels. And you know almost nothing about interviewers.
People were of the kind I precisely expected. Interests in gardening, pension reform, children, but gardening in the first place. The young people who drove later were like their children. Mothers suffering from post-childbirth weight gain, speaking vulgarly about Turkish hotels where you can swim (really?) and controlling their children with dull toys in their hands. No way I wanted to network with them. My cousin and I had a moment of talk drinking red wine, we tried to recall old times when we spend so much time together. But frankly speaking, at this moment we are so distant in life and mindset. She has two children, a husband and a job at her father’s factory. When they gave me a lift afterwards her son spoke: мой язык жгет. Firstly I thought that it’s just an unaware child making mistakes but then both mother and father said it. So I couldn’t restrain myself and made a notice that it’s right to tell жжёт. Then I lamely tried to smooth it. But whatever snob inside of me can’t bear such rude mistakes.
In my attempt to hide I sneaked out of the house and walked down to a pond. It was naturally beautiful and calm (though music destroyed the silence). I made photos and wanted to row there. In the evening I returned and had been standing at a small wharf for a long time looking at the waves and colour of sunset. I recall the first time I got to such a country style only-relatives party, I was four or five. I couldn’t stand the noise and left the banket hall to draw in the other room. I remember drawing a dolphin while they drunk. Things don’t really change, do they?
This is one of those days when my own flat seems to be a prison of wrong decisions. I oscillate from one activity to another with a constant sadness. OK, it looks like every post of mine is about sadness but in reality, I can be quite satisfied and enthusiastic about my routine. Yesterday, for example, I did some more SS work, went to the swimming pool (and had my own swimming track) and met with Kate (from ChuvSU) and the whole day I felt strong and self-assured.
However, this morning was basically idle and fruitless, then in the afternoon, I tried (not really) to draw that house I started. Such a dull task! I shouldn’t pick it in the first place. At two o’clock I left it the way it was, took my backpack and went to the library. Surprisingly, it wasn’t completely empty, but quite enough to go into study flow. Making a mind map of a pretty simple and more or less straightforward topic I found out a certain mutual connection between generating new technologies and the rise in schooling years. Probably, it’s obvious, but it’s pleasing to find myself.
More I visit MacCafe more I ascertain that it’s not a place for me. There are too many children, parents, and strange looking people. Back at home, I tried to draw the same house with the same success. But simultaneously I listened to a Michael Sandel lecture and students debate about African-American people’s educational opportunities. Such a distant but familiar problem for me (kinda provincial/moscowian problem).
When mom came The Problem arose again like a silent wall or a gigantic pillar. Or at least I felt it that way. The request for my being at some relative anniversary party out of the town, and as a result another review of my pictures to be gifted. The question of me not leaving hometown.
And actually I mull over it more and more, I’m almost persuaded by myself to it. But my game is about getting better not drowning here. I have an acceptable plan for a tired adult craving for education.
So, this day is almost ended and as far as I promised myself to write a diary, I’m here. Today nothing special happened. I woke up a bit late, at eight-ten, didn’t want to jog and made exercises for glutes at home. During the breakfast, I watched a video about Molier (but it was more about French theatre in common). I came to a conclusion that all those crash course videos which I liked so much before are rather frustrating and distracting. Of course, I washed the dishes but without previous enthusiasm, it’s just a chore. Every time I turn to the kitchen sink something little dies inside me. It’s sort of treachery to my values, to my vision of life, the way I always thought was mine. But still, I do wash up every morning like I always wanted to be free of that routine.
After that, I came to my room and was going to make a mind map for SS, but instead, I recorded the flashcards in Anki. I got distracted, I looked up for a textbook for mom. It was lunch time but no hunger was presented. So I waited and then fried eggs. Lazy lunch. During lunch, I watched an episode of Scrubs.
After that, I decided to go out for sketching (come on! Who are you trying to trick?) Slowly I got ready, chose some podcast, but it was boring anyway. At the Lakreevsky park, I wrote down my thoughts about life and the whole idea of coming back to VGIK. Is it gonna work or not? Looks like not. Anyway, the way back home I visited the bookstore and impulsively bought a beautiful violet binder and fine pens. I was inspired by the binder like I was going to use to something interesting.
At home, I started to draw a house and watch Scrubs at the same time. My mood rose because of the comedy. It’s stupid but still works. I haven’t really progressed in the drawing. My feelings are totally strange about drawing, it seems a bit ridiculous to me now when we have a superpower of computers.
A tennis training was good, I did well and was praised. I like to be praised.
Beside the cold wind and snow storm, my holiday got finished. In spite of all my despise of this idea, I went to the Uni yesterday. How was it? That was all expected and predicted. A philosophy teacher appeared to be a tired woman with 3000K students and the terribly complex subject she hardly knows. Plump and angry. So, there is no hope for improvement.
I was friendly with girls but at the lunch break went to the empty hall to sit and calm down. My head was splitting because of the weather, bad lecture and stifling atmosphere in an auditorium. The lecture was ridiculous, a lecturer was sight-reading a sheet of English text. At the middle of the lecture, someone found a text and shared it online. I started to use it and (Surprise!) managed to do more than she read. At the last lesson, we watched some specific videos (on YouTube) and I couldn’t keep my attention, that was boring and the audio system harshly bit to my ears. Finally, I forgot my purse at the toilet.
I have much thought right now and many of them are about future and this moment.
Today I had the first exam at this University. The hardest part was in the morning, I had to get up at six and be in a place at 8.30. Long time I tried to persuade myself to sleep more, but then I pushed myself out of the bed and slowly started to get ready. Mom got up too, she cannot sleep after alarm clocks. At the breakfast, I forced myself to eat an oatmeal, though I wanted something new and tasty. The way to the University I was thinking about million things beginning with the thought that didn’t make me sleep at night (it was a wonder: What if Rey will turn to the Dark side at the ninth episode, this would be very surprising) and finishing with the comparison of trees on the hills and the Breighel’s picture.
I run into the hall where group-mates were sitting. It turned out that one girl picked up the documents because of the financial situation. (I’m amazed by a social gap, some pays 450K and think they’re ordinary, some cannot handle 20K but think they’re ordinary too) However, I’d got a good partner for preparing dialogues. In the audience, I felt really strange because there was too much mindreading without any explanations. Finally, we had a short boring dialogue which the teacher didn’t like. I underperformed. After that, I wrote sentences. I was the last in the room and I got four. And I certainly couldn’t care less. Now all I want is to sleep or go out but not to take the textbooks and learn anything. No, please, no.
P.S. Right now I experience an emptiness and timidness of life without star wars. It’s my regular boring life without a spark of creativity. But I caught it, felt an excitement of making up new things and now I feel necessity for this. That’s great to use fantasy, mind and courage to make something.
Girls and I had met today at the Coffeemania. I was a bit scared of new talks about relationship and man. The way there I fell down and stained my beautiful blue jeans. I came here in time but I didn’t expect to meet girl sitting there. But they were, and despite my little fear to look odd, behave oddly and be awkward I came and hugged them all. At the beginning, I really had troubles in fitting myself into the conversation. I asked myself, was I really compromising and hiding again? I kept silent some time and during first minutes figured out that my star wars obsession wouldn’t fit there. There was no chance to speak about such an abstract topic.
We came through family matters, New Year Eves, and other boring topics. I ate terribly sweet cake and coffee while they were discussing family life and operations. At the middle of the meeting, Mary and I had a discussion of the question of positive psychology. To my surprise, I tried to persuade her that it’s not an ultimate point of view.
Finally, I could speak about Star Wars and other films but obviously, they couldn’t respond. (I feel to tired to finish, I frustrate to much, I need some sleep)
Today I’ve understood that I finally got sick of this routine shallow life with worries about plastic bags, products, cash and cards, endless questions of the housekeeping. I feel need to eliminate it in my life. I cannot think every time what to cook for dinner or what and where to buy. My Star Wars obsession opened me that almost forgotten the life of thinking. The joy of trying to understand things deeply, get its inner motifs, not just mechanisms to apply. This makes life more profound, more aware. It gives colours.
I couldn’t bare those hours at grandma’s house. To say nothing about talks, I found out that she didn’t really know anything about dinners. I mean, she mixed main dish and a dessert, she put utensils rudely at the centre of the table. She asked me to eat things without any order, without any finishing. And that all is OK for her as far as she is a country child. But I’ve watched so many films with the well-made dinner that I took it for myself. (Yes, I serve ahead and never mix) That’s strange how far from our ancestors we can be.
Both my mom and grandmother talk not well in Russian. I mean that they make curved sentences with many common words instead of descriptive ones. They speak about really simple things, which bore me, greatly. I don’t want to be like they are. I don’t want to have my main focus on routine stuff. But at the same time, I see how little space and triggers are there for intelligent life. The routine tasks are inevitable, I cannot eat only porridge or give up on cleaning up. That’s not an option. I need smartly eliminate it. But how?
This is the third day dyed in colours of the interpersonal conflicts of Star Wars. In the morning I had hardly done my exercises, mom switched TV on and I couldn’t tear myself away from the screen. I was watching an old cartoon from my childhood, today they seemed funny and ridiculous the same time. The characters appeared to be slow-witted. But it’s a good memory at least.
I went out for some case at the day, there were hardly some people on the street. Ice covered all the roads making it tough to pass and not fall. After that, at home, I still couldn’t get those thoughts out of my mind. I did my English homework, downloaded music and had a lunch. But simultaneously my mind was wandering around thinking about the characters’ motifs, their perception, reactions, their behavior and possible future actions. My mind tried to foresee a new script with twists and certain scenes. That’s exhausting.
The strange activity recovered me a bit. It’s a search for a sofa at the trade center. Mom and I were going through the shops, sitting on different sofas, wondering about the prices or quality. There were some great sofas for the huge price. When we ate rolls at the food court I confessed that I don’t remember last time I cared about fictional characters so much. She asked something and then tried to change the topic and raised the question of my Moscow study. I dodged from an answer.
At home, I took a bath and dissolved all my thoughts and images in water.
It’s a pattern, less you write (draw, learn) less you want to start doing it again. But someday I must to return and do it like there was no time gap.
This morning I was in rush, again I overslept extra thirty minutes and had to get ready faster and without proper exercises. Surely, I was a bit crushed. I reviewed my report on the bus and reviewed it again and again during the workshop itself. There was stuffy air in a room, and I got a headache. Everybody was badly reading a text from a list while I was looking through a narrow crack in the blinds. It was snowing outside. When it was my turn I did all the same as usual. But this time I found out problems in my speaking skills, it was hard to connect ideas with each other. Linking phrases simply fell out of my head. And, speaking critically, the content was scarce though I really tried to tell about Alexander Pope’s core ideas. Then I took another report, John Milton this time.
After a short compulsory lecture, I went home. Lately, I have a strange situation with books. As I finished “Why art cannot be taught” many self-help books appeared on my phone. There are about three of them and all are wishy-washy. But I need something of such kind now.
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.