Going out to the dark cold street in Sunday is like falling down to your own abyss. Yandex music playlist makes you want you’re eager to do – scream loudly and jump. (I don’t know why) Useless to say, but there is no Christmas spirit. People are hiding in their burrows, there is no fair or fuss around, just three New Year trees along the central street. This all makes digging down incredably easy.
I realize how sentimental, vulnerable and sensitive I am. It creates a ton of problems and a wall around. It just came to me that probably I do not have any strong connections now because I’m afraid and unable to trust fully. Maybe I’m just emotionally disabled. I don’t really care or empathise with anyone (except fictional character but that doesn’t count as real, does it?). I consciously live a life of an icelander.
I don’t know, just wanted to write something, not getting depressed (I’m not really).
This day was a strange compilation of thoughts, images and fantasies I had last days. All those moments of ponderous work I reconnected with a ground inside.
I’d never thought there are such dull people in the world before I actually started to work. It opened my eyes on the actual backwardness of the population. It’s so dark and narrow in their minds.
In spite of the promise to give up on the SW topic, I do still care and it does still amuse me. Though the weighty feeling of inner strength and beauty got away. My fantasy makes me believe things. Probably, it makes all people believe things.
Yesterday, when I met with Kate it came to me that this town is a phantom. It’s a composition of reality and fantasy. The reality is deficient and full of holes, so the mind makes the rest up. It fills the outer world with the features of the inner one. The time does not work here and it might seem that we won’t get old being at this place. But it’s a mere illusion.
I’m just being incoherent here.
Sunny morning after the night full of thoughts spoken like I had a presentation at the college. The strange thoughts on film production and “what if” fantasies. This might be a product of the evening strolling through story analyses of The Last Jedi and posts about VGIKfest. It’s funny to go away and finish at this point of interest. An odd realisation that I still awe filmmaking, but I do still adore concepts and storytelling, acting and cutting way more than PD (including non-stop drawing, organising set decoration, props).
Recent weeks I had put down my exam preps and had barely remembered about it. I’ve become more centred with all these Star Wars and GOT stuff, it’s easier to be obsessed with things which obsess you. Another time I want to read McKee and Greek drama, another time I’m excited to know the drama structure. I read Chekhov in the first year at the college, but the reason for that and this preoccupation was the same. The same desire to analyse the general structure and every single line.
Thinking of how artsy can I be does not particularly mean the same as before, my inclination to art is not purely about visuals, it’s about drama. Or I just think and err about it. Nothing really counts as creativity while you do nothing.
So, this slow day filled with work and contemplation has finished. Yesterday after tennis workout and shower I watched “The Last Jedi” another time. That was a stressful day, my customer requested a work to redo (which I did for two days) therefore I wanted to shut the whole world and hide somewhere.
Today I could really work. Eric Satie music on the background, certain workplace and then some calm podcasts on the film I still like. These days of work I had been pondering about creative work at all. This little project made me feel like I’m at the Art department again like there are a viewing and all things from the past. It reminded me of how dull creative work can be, how intimidating one can feel in front of a customer. And it reminded me of the freedom it gives, freedom of even more work with customers and freedom of not talking to random people. The most prominent thing I re-realised is that creative work is not an entertaining walk in the park but a hard labour from day to day. It is more of a struggle that hovering above clouds. But I do hover above clouds about Star Wars and it’s production. I’m partially naive about it all and get it.
As yesterday night I rewatched The Last Jedi today I came to a conclusion that it’s still a blockbuster, not a drama, the romance topic is quite subtle and not so blunt and underrepresented as dummy fans see and want it. And there are logical flaws. But that all means nothing if it touches my heart and makes it beat faster. Also, I understood that the thing which made a lot of fans so angry and disappointed with the film were expectations. They build their own theories, they were sure of certain things to be important, but the film didn’t meet their hopes. So I shouldn’t expect things, I must trust filmmakers on this. (like I have any choice on this matter. Naive girl) I’m better to forget about it all and reveal once again at 1 January of 2020.
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.
There are too many thoughts in my mind, they grow, they blow, and they take all the rooms in my head. Though there aren’t many thoughts, they are just squealing.
The weather is grey-coloured. I’m worried if I need to take an umbrella to the passport office. I don’t want to have curly wet hair on the photo.
Currently, I have the philosophy to learn, but for some reason, I don’t do it. Why? Laziness, the intention to avoid the pain of knowledge? I don’t know why but I have to put myself together. By the way, I want to learn phrasal verbs. As usual, when studies are finished, I get a second wind. No surprise. I even think about IELTS again. I should be more organised and disciplined. Probably, I need to study outside the flat, for example at the library. At home, I feel rather relaxed than gathered. Everything tries to distract me. As it seems to me. Frankly, it is just not so easy to focus, my mind is always looking for ideas.
However, this text is messed it doesn’t matter because the main purpose is to gather my mind.
Maybe I will watch today’s match between Kasatkina and Stevens. Tomorrow it will be Sharapova, finally.
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.