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.
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!