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)
The going to the theatre left an odd impression of misunderstanding and social life which seems to submerge again.
I came to the local theatre an hour ahead to redeem the tickets. There were the autumn leafs everywhere and nobody in the hall. My reflection at the glasses was fine, at least I liked it and felt kinda Parisian. The small coffee shop in the calm Sunday trade center welcomed me. For half an hour I spend like a book heroine, reading the tale of Kazuo Ishiguro (who is the winner of 2017 Nobel Prize) and drinking coffee. The forgotten pleasure of reading fiction prose.
When I came back to the theatre there were much more people and a girl with the easel. Waiting for someone at the theatre hall is one of the least joyful things. I even filled in the questionnaire to which options of the favorite local theatres I added Vakhtangov’s. Then I started to speak with the girl by the easel, and evidently, she was from the art college. We had shortly discussed the teachers before Mary came to us. I tried to make a conversation but it cracked. Then she often came to her husband and I had no idea what to do. They seemed to be busy. Afterward, their third person came but he didn’t join our silence as he was eating something. I started to think that Mary was offended by me ( the odd situation with the tickets) but she lively talked about the local artist whose pictures were hung on the walls. The friend of Mary’s husband greeted me and made some jokes as we met before at the Quiz.Please game.
The performance made a really good impression at the beginning. There were two characters who played queer creatures and played them really good. Even at the moments, they weren’t at the focus they played. But after a few stories, the main idea has begun to melt their massages hardly matched. The composition of grounded stories about people and some pathetic temptation to touch “The Sacred Question of Art”. At the end, the artist who appeared from time to time during the whole performance turned the big picture to the audience. Frankly, I expected to see a key for the play but it was a messy unclear drawing which didn’t tell anything.
The talk we had after was full of men’s loud impressions, they got it was rubbish. And partly they were right but not in that expressive way. I found out that it was really hard for me to grasp and answer smartly on the man’s jokes. That was fast and non-straight-forward. (I spend to much time with less clever people). Mary’s husband dropped me at my bus stop.
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).
Certainly this all looks different. The question is: is it really different or the same?
I woke up in time and had a good talk with the girl from cinema studies. We discussed film distribution on the way to the institute. She talked much about weekends and box offices. I listened and commented but basically listened. We went to the class as usual at Mondays and sat together to talk more.
The history lesson was terrific, full of reflection, political games and historical science. I enjoyed the process of thinking and even being ignorant at some points. Pleasure in one word.
Then I immediately was brought back to the same world as it had been week ago. Sleepy Nastya and talks about talks. The free porridge was surprisingly well-cocked and we had a lovely talk with the animation students.
I stretched the paper at the corridor as the workshop was noisy and cluttered. The joyful point is that I liked the reflection in the mirror – firstly while study. Maybe the reason is that I had so much wonderful events which I truly liked and moreover I have begun to think about New Year Eve and found lots of inspiration in considering the menu.
I read the interesting thought. It is about inertia. We continue to do something just because we have already started it. We should ask ourselves either I do this all such way if I knew it be like this. If answer is no, it should be changed, transformed. My answer is totally no. I wouldn’t make choices like I did in past if knew how it works. Clearly it means that I need some corrections. God thanks I’m still young! 22 isn’t the mature age though I feel explicit gap between me and younger students. This is why the decision I made at the history lesson was – read history not fiction now.
The drawing lessons were terrible. Evidently, there were no order, no working discipline by the sitters and reluctant by the students. I got a target to get drawn the head for a day and then move on. So did I in some extent. They talked usual messy talks of exhausted art students. The girls squeaked and moaned. The boys were fooling around. When I took off the headphone to ask the sitter be calmer I’d heard such common hum which I’d never heard even at the worst days at the college.
Of course, nobody was interested in the festival or volunteering. I just felt a bit more confident and went to the dean’s office for clarification of the dates without any hesitation. I did many complements during the day and felt well. But surely the drawing was monotonous, meaningless and long. I could read something instead.
For some reasons (runny nose is one of them) to the end of the lessons I had no former desire to attend physical lesson. I went to the drugstore, grocery and went in the hostel when all were inside the gym. So I told Mary to write me down. The good news is that I met the cinema studies’ girl Sasha and got her contacts.
Mary can be late always. She compensates it with her constant sense of light. It is warm and light love to life with all its hardships and copings, with all its diversity and creativity. It is felt immediately like a heavy mantle of depressing rubbish fell off your shoulders releasing mind for great.
So was at the painted tram tunnel where I found myself out a bit happy. Though the way crossed the dirty nooks there was no hint of former tension. Not a spot of teachers’ harsh tales niether messy lunacy of the workshop. The other environment of Artplay with its pubs, designers’ labs and exhibitions. Clean offices and fashionable people with awareness of digital world. The smell of activity, achievements and purposes. Why the institute doesn’t smell like this? Why there are stone faces and trash at the corridors? Not proper questions.
The Scottish screenwriter was speaking about the writing for film easily and even funny. Just like real creativity does it – with natural curiosity, diligence and civic sense. Audience had good questions about the process and collaboration.
I led Mary to the student dim cafe upstairs where we had been talking until the closure. For some reason it’s easy to talk smart with her but not with the course mates. Night was quiet and miraculous, I couldn’t fell asleep, I read the reviews and watched trailers.
It’s late evening and I’m sitting on the bed lit by the night lamp. There are the voices at the other room. Two girls as usual are discussing some deals with men and each other, watching funny videos and listening pop music about love. Their laugh as the recorded sound of the day’s end, it’s almost the same all the time. How do they manage this?
Today I have had a guest at my little cleaned room. Nastya asked to visit me and I surely said yes. I was anxious about time and tried to manage something but had my mind dispelled. She came in and the most surprising was a man behind her. That was Ilgiz. He was absolutely the same as he was a year ago, maybe a bit taller. The same awkwardness and obedience, the same fashionable type of the jamper – with the print of Sydney. I was shocked but gladed to see him. They went back to get more caps to drink tea.
Then we had a long talk about anything and nothing. He got into the local institute at the part-time basement and left the job. Sometimes we got strange talks to each other and Nastya couldn’t make out what’s going on and asked him. They were sitting near to each other and I could clearly observe how alike they are. There was something similar at their face expressions which has nothing to race type. She briefly touched his leg and laughed on his irony or surprisingly pulled back to make an amazed grimace about the black humour and vague commitments. For some reason I hardly could look at his eyes longer than a few seconds. I understood that maybe knew more than Nastya expect me to know (she had no idea that he wanted to apply to vgik too). At five hours I begun to shoo them and simultaniously talked to him about the films we watched and that Nastya should watch those too. They went out to go to the cinema this evening (I suggested them Oktyabr theatre).
They left my room empty and silent. Sometimes it seems me too lonely and sad. I try to fill the void with social media and reading the architecture textbook (which liven my workholic side up). I need to make friends.
I had a horrible dream this night. It was a projection of our yesterday walking. We were going somewhere at me birthday and by the door of some cafe Nastya said to me lots of awful things like: ‘You’re nobody! You have done nothing in your life!’ I was shamed by those words and turned back to go out, while there was something indoor for my birthday party.
Then I went to the grey room with my course mates who begun to terror me, hung on the rope and beat. I can’t remember any other dream during which I felt so humiliated and strong in loneliness the same time.
The reason of so horrify vision may be our talk about education abroad. She completely attacked me with questions like “What is the purpose?! What is the profit of studying abroad?!” (I told about school pupils who pass American exam and apply at their universities) While she was speaking out I couldn’t make out what to answer. I heard the total ignorance in this field and total absence of desire to understand. And of course no desire to support me even with words.
Later I got that her reaction is kind of reaction people who study at province have. They don’t understand for what purpose applicants choose the capital cities. Isn’t here enough universities?
The meeting was chaotic in general. I felt that her gusty speech rides and noise in my mind like a train. I can’t that there was the same sense of close and understanding. I speak little and bear lots because I don’t feel comfortable. Does she feel so?
Yesterday barbecue was nice. At the morning I refreshed the institute’s site too often to say I was calm. There was some tint of general tiresome and sullen mood. However, I looked better than usual in white outfit. I followed the girls at the market while I tumbled at them among vegetables. I embraced with Jane who looked as usual stylish and natural. And it seemed that she was really glad to see me as well as other girls. There were Nastya H., Katya (with new haircut), Helen with her brother and Masha. The process of purchase was a bit chaotic but had its final with a few bottles of wine, vegetables, fruits and other meal.
As they begun little earlier I wasn’t aware of what’s going on and couldn’t take part immediately. I found out that I had no idea of picnic’s necessities and how to organise eight people with purchases and two cars. During the road me and Nastya H. talked about the news among the college’s people. In a moment we’d been at the other republic on the other side of the river Volga. The mountains of sand and high trees.
I couldn’t control the process, it went on by itself. The Helen’s brother cooked, girls cut the vegetables and watermelon which we ate immediately. Talks were short and distant. I found out that the present habit to make photos and catch the frame faded away and I needed to force myself for doing something. There were wine and bear, bees and wasps. Chaos of disposable tableware and swipe.
We played badminton and I was terrible in that game despite all my tennis background. I have no justification. I still feel like an outsider at the school gym. After lots of meat and wine we played Crocodile, Mafia. Then we changed a place and played as two teams. That was a terror of unsportsmanlike. That was cold and windy when we counted money whole half of an hour. Colours of sun and grass were removed with blue veil of rain. I was so exhausted by sun, meat, plays, talks that the way back to the car was hard and freeze.
Mom called when I was standing by the car, she told that everything was OK. The way home I slowly downloaded the rating and looked through it. I am eighth which means that I will study on the commercial basement but I certainly will. Happy and tired I got to the center with messy feelings.
Let’s begin with yesterday evening when I made mom sit down to let me draw her. We talked much about something and unnoticably remembered my best friend at the elementary school who graduates from the Moscow State Uni this time. I regreted that hadn’t gone to the music school. I was offered to enter as the mother of my friend was the director there. But I said straight no. I did so because of the real risk to compete with her and be kinda retarded friend. And mom would compare us and expect something from me. I thought that way and refused. But now I frankly regret that I was so silly and narrow-minded.
However, I couldn’t avoid the comparison even in that talk. There is something in her eyes which show me some .. you know something like “I’d like you to be the same successful as her”. I remember how she bought me the same chocolate as this girl’s parents bought to her with the intention to make me smarter. (Ha ha it was “snickers”)
I had laughed about people of my course trying to get round the awkward moment of comparison then. It is quiet visible. She graduates from the best Uni of the country while I prepare with effort to be applied.
This morning I opened the page of my state exams to know what’s result for English. It’s 80 out of 100. Little mistakes with listening and writing. Then I looked through the feed and found out that this school friend of mine had expected red diploma with the golden medal. Of course I was glad for her and congradulated.
After a few hours of boring learning of Russian nineteenth century art (which I greatly loved earlier) I couldn’t endure no more. Walking the same way I thought and felt that I terribly tired by mediocrity of the whole this life. It remains so little time before the exams and the hardest thing is to endure the boredom and routine way of preparation. I mean not the creativity but lack of connection and being at home the whole day. And the same time I know that being able to cope with it’s psychological hardship is a part of achieving goals.
I tryed to get an answer on question how she managed that all. And my answer lies in self-confidence, well rounded condition, good enviroment and the clear vision. My coursemate at the collage who turned out to live next door to her scolded her and called arrogant and goal oriented. Another one who went to tennis with her avoided to be called a part of her surrounding. But we were the best friends four years and just connected a few years more.
I still do not know why mom’s reaction or the fact itself distracked me. I know that I need better social enviroment and some more close people. I need to stay strong inside and no repeat mistakes.
Yesterday I met with Nastya. That was a busy day with the painting and purchases as well as printing Nastya’s portfolio. I’d been in rush with editing her file as it was distracted by other windows version. However it was strange and nice to see her at the other side of the road. She was at the new fashionable t-shirt and had the cheap red headphone round her neck. I was bold to embrace her and broke the wall of coldness.
She started to talk immediately and immediately it had turned out to chaos. We didn’t talk in narrative, gradual way. That was rather the emotional burst of random things and facts from the recent life. I managed to know that she’s going to apply MA program at the other institute of SPb. And it does not concern to theatre. It’s decorative arts. Having read the book about the student life and student’s motivation her approach to the study seemed to me quiet terrible. Though I couldn’t say so. I can’t say that the described reactions of her coursemate are childish, naive or ignorant.
Sometimes I clearly feel that the so-called “creative” people or it’s better to say people from creative fields aren’t the sort of people I want to connect with. Of course it can be the little world of Nastya’s study and SPb youth culture. I said her this and she’d reacted unpleasantly, not understanding me fully. Her amazement with improvements and constructions at the center was huge but I couldn’t share it. As I see it the crisis punched on the face of shops and street decoration. It’s rather disorder than beauty.
Basically she talked really much, I couldn’t speak without being interrupted all the time. Sometimes I found out myself on not paying enough attention to her words. I felt she’s from the chaotic world of young and uncertain. We are different. And I often feel that I’m a practical pragmatic beside her. So, I know that I sing, dance and play most of the spare time.
However, we could enjoy talking about exercises on acting and grimacing different reactions.
At the end of the evening she said people will wait for her at eight. She went with me to the stationary’s store and thought to get me at the bus and go to her other friends. But I was bold to try the acting exercise right then. I did the impression of a resentful person. And I was going to join them and get fun with them. So she believed I intended to. It was so fun when she said that I finally got bold. So we understood each other and she enjoyed my sense of humour one more time. We went to the destination I greeted her classmates (whom I actually know) made some more jokes and went to the bus stop.