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.
So today I’m going to sit on the bus and go to Moscow for the exams. What am I feeling? Actually relief. It is not because of the exams or life changing process but because I am going to Moscow which means I’ll be able to walk there and visit my favorite places. It means being at the town. For some reason, it takes me an easiness. It would be perfect if there was a flat of mine.
On the road to the bus station, I met NastyaH who was coming to the hospital. Our talk was fun and friendly, I’d got that people had misunderstood my silence and I should be more open with them. Then I luckily bought a ticket and walked down the road on foot. It even seemed marvelous. I mean the idea to stay at the same place. Everything is easy and understandable enough.
At home, I packed the backpack and downloaded some films for the road. The thing I found out is that feature films are rather boring for me right now, I cannot watch them as much as before. I’ve got one Jim Carey’s comedy – perfect for the road and the documentaries by Parfenov (which I really like). Speaking of documentaries I must say that for me it’s an easy and convenient way to know the world, but this way isn’t the best. The best is traveling and connecting with a variety of people. That’s best for sure.
I even looked up the books on the war topic (the next one for mastery). It was strangely tiresome to wade through the jungle of the plots. Fiction books certainly are not so touchy for me as non-fictional. Or I just ain’t able to read it. Which is more probable. (But of course, I picked one just in case).
Actually, I have no desire to prepare for the exams, it’s weakness, yes. I have already refused to go to Spb (I watched the rating – it speaks I won’t be applied even with maximum mark. Speak nothing about my real level) The other situation happens with the local university where I certainly can enter, at least for the part-time program. And it could be interesting to have an additional diploma.
The other idea which hovers in my mind is to get a job for the weekends. I need money as much as I need independence (and privacy).
I certainly need a habit of everyday writing, another way my head is full of thought and nights are full of long contemplation.
But what’s actually going on? I worked two days and yesterday I studied grammar four hours because of some strange slowness. I have almost done a few collages for texture and almost read Social studies’ textbook. The last is really interesting despite evident ideas or outdated information. While a trolley-bus conveyed me home I was reading it a bit like in metro – without any attention to surroundings. The other book I read currently is D.Lessing’s “The sweetest dream” and I’m at the very beginning but have already had an idea of her writing style. It seems the same time profound deep analyses and easy to read.
The other thing is yesterday news. I do often forgive about the factual undercover reality of everything’s imperfection. The analitics talked about people who work illegally for keeping their profits out of goverment which doesn’t spend it in a proper way. And yes, I’m a person who need a reminder to remember such things. My enviroment is full of Western culture and young freshmen. I count that quickly and got that out of every copy we do (4R) it is taxed 1,44R. In bigger sums it becomes really huge.
On the contrary such ideas, I percieve poetry of slow time and colourful light. I had a dream today, something with metro open air station and then me and dad at the ship. I ate some potatos while he was speaking something. Water shone in cerelium blue while sky was orange.
I remember V.Woolf’s diaries with it’s capacity for almost everything – relationships, process of work, observations, books and articles, for some reason my notes are one-sided.
I found out myself interested in another new area which is publishing of books, magazines and news, blogging (I mean real pro, not mine) and the phenomenon of public opinion. I really like design of paper books, paper edition of magazines and their sites (what has to be improved for mental health). Being at Moscow the previous month I wanted to print out Greek drama at my own book with real book binding. But now I afraid to not to manage it.
Yes, the brain is much easier now.
So, it’s heavy shower outside. The hostel is tranquil as any place under the rain. The warm light of lamps at the empty quite corridors with dark grey colour of weather. I did exercises at the drawing room which was really strange as nobody were to do it too. I made and ate breakfast alone as I was the first person at the obscure kitchen without a window. While eating I unwillingly remember that such square meal is the remain of UK trip. We did eat almost the same way, the only difference was toasts with jam or butter.
However, this is the great morning of rain I have many words to type and say. But basically it concerns to institute and the character of applicants as well as teachers. Yesterday while drawing the head I was considering either feeling so uncomfortable and unhappy there is good or it is just a part of unpleasant process of exams and people around. Sometimes I even have a panic (yes, with plain face) that it’s not absolutely my way. Though I know it’s ok to doubt I can notice that I force myself to go to the insitute rather than fly there zealously. There are many new ideas which came during this time. Printing books and devise the concept, making sketchbooks, shooting music videos, painting studies, English stuff, writing essays etc.
But the general situation at the institute is going good for me. One girl went the distance and took her documents out just because of the idea of bad drawing and painting. Nice for me, shame for her. To my own manners with other applicants, it is rather removed and shallow. It would be interesting to mix with a few girls but I don’t want to combine the competition and relationships. It is much easier when you do not know people and move in own direction.
I had been sitting at the hall for a few minutes longer as I texted Mary. She couldn’t go out with me then and I comforted myself with the lonely way to the station. But Nastya Ch. was waiting for me downstairs. Such moments I get that I do not understand something crucial. It is so torturous to hear her narrow-minded replies. Maybe my dislike is the result of the contrast between her enthusiasm about animation and my motivation’s slack. The relief was reading of “Make it stick” the rest of the road.
Today, it will be a miraclous day as we are to draw a nude model and this is almost the last day of the practical exams.
I’m still here and going to write anything. You know this is the one of my daily points and despite emptiness there should be something.
The weather is so sunny today that I can feel warmth of it’s rays on me. Let me be an enthusuast today, give me some strenght to continue my preparation and not give up at the middle of the way. This is the process of breaking. I know that those are my obligations, but I feel a bit tired with all their ethical ideas.
It seems so far away from the life while there is no life. They all speak things that are near to the truth but being near it doesn’t penetrate into me as a clear idea how to modify my own life to be better. The modern self-development books really more helpful than Dostoevsky’s. At least for me. And there is the question is fiction book a place for declaring ideas or it is more a piece of art. And does it really fruitful to convey notions through fiction? As for me scintific facts can change my behaviour more than tales. Thought tales have their own power on my mind and mood, it can’t change the life. Absolutely. It’s not about how to be happy and prosperous, it is rather research of life as a process than the leader. Nobody presume to understand politic after reading a fiction book about politicians’ lives, it’s rediculous.
However, fiction is about stories and the meaning they have.