Moscow application 2017

After the kind and lovely film with Jim Carey, after the strange dream at five a.m. I opened eyes at Moscow suburb. There was warm springy Sun and people were slowly going somewhere. Finally, I felt nothing but some faint romantic relief in my breast. The closer I was to the hostel tenser I became. At the dark room at a half to eight, there was my unpleasant roommate. But moreover, her being there, her things were put on my bed in some terrible disorder, there were lots of sacks everywhere. OK, I just had no desire to lecture her, so I was simply angry. Surely, nobody cleaned the common room and the bathroom had become horribly dirty. Someone used my sponge, toilet paper, and dishwashing liquid. Fun isn’t it. That was a point I lost any respect for them. I had to change the room a long time ago and live in a tiny but clean and friendly environment.

Quite strange but my heart was silent while I was going to the Institute (to pay for the hostel) and some thoughts were flawed in my mind. Probably, I exaggerate, but there was an empty space and I couldn’t feel anything warm inside. I didn’t want to be noticed and as fast as I found the cash-desk closed I went away. People who were going there made me feel so different and some kind of lonely.

At the favorite street, I firstly walked a bit to feel that terrific vibes. Then despite all my desire to walk farther, I came back to the library. You know libraries are so good spaces for learning. Even me in a sad state of mind with all those low self-esteem stuff could focus there and just learn something. Before I got hunger I managed many things and came around to the idea of the usefulness of the libraries.

The cafe I came in was as usual wonderful. I took great soap and a potato, I was sitting there “as usual” looking at the people who just had lunch. Only there I could frankly think about changing the wardrobe. Then that was the bookshop where my sense of strangeness was high. I never really buy books. If I buy them it’s never that romantic long process, it’s more like a deal.

Then again library, low self-esteem and the idea that it’s going to fail. At that library, it often comes to my mind that the thing I study is so primary comparing with their exam preparations and other activities. But finally, it’s OK, nobody matters.

After some time I went for a walk at the center. It was shining with Sun and good looking people around. I visited an old bookshop, drunk coffee and ate a burger at the quiet square by the university campus. There was so wonderful sight. And no tourists around. But I must confess that my only and the most important problem is the sharp loneliness. The great city in its blossom but I don’t want anything alone. And I feel even more alienated than ever. Adding the common recent state I try not to cry because of the stupidity of the roommate. Isn’t it silly? I just must work on my network.

Damp Monday

This day could be called miserable by some unpleasant point which begun the previous evening. The whole night I tried as hard as possible to focus and get asleep while the roommate was doing something with the night lamp. It was truly troublesome to make me relax. She went the Saturday night and spent the whole Sunday lying in pyjama in front of the laptop. I, in contrary, had a very busy and active Sunday. But in spite of all my weariness, I couldn’t get asleep and, as a result, today I had circles under the eyes and some tension inside.

I wore the new clothes: light blue jeans and beige cardigan. I must be a joyful moment of beauty. But while I was hurrying for a history lesson, I felt something that every girl wouldn’t prefer to feel in the light jeans. Yes, that was it. Fortunately, the lecture turned out to be a review of pictures and artifacts which are mostly well-known for the art department. I could relax and utter the answers easily.

The way back to the hostel, one part of me guessed that it would be a scene. At the morning I found out crumbs at the kitchen table and moreover the tablespoon stained in my coffee. It was a decision to leave a note with a message kinda “please, clean up after yourself and don’t touch my coffee”. Simple isn’t it. But there was a scene which I didn’t manage to control as polite as it should be.  She assumed me blaming her for all sins. I was so irritated that the phrase “it sounds like an accusation” seemed me even on the way back utterly stupid. I explained her in a most impartial way I could – showing the real way of accusing and cleaning out my intentions and thoughts I wanted her to get. That was and still plain that she took offence and frowned even more. Ethical practice case.

At the way to and fro at the damp gray roads with dripping cars and trams (and everything), it seemed a day when one wants to give up all this stuff called life. When the walls, lifts, people, study look especially terrible.

But at the drawing, I laughed a lot and felt even relaxed for some time. Then it only decreased. The talks appeared illogical, impulsive and primitive. The sitter was out most of the time and I completely lost a zeal to draw hands and foot. I went out at three and on the way got that the roommate can be still there. It looked obvious. And it turned out so. She cleaned up one of my shelves at the kitchen and put there a plastic glass and a box of tea (instead of few cups and a stack of plates). I asked her openly whether she was offended and is everything OK. Her answer No was obviously unclear. Now she is lying in her pajama and, I perceive she isn’t going somewhere out. Not today.

A guest

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.