Third viewing.

I’m happy, I’m smiling, I feel free. And no matter I’ve just come home from the third viewing of the Eighth episode. I blamed myself a long time, pushed down and forced to not to give in desires. But afterwards, I gave my free will space, I allowed myself to not to be adequate and socially confirmed. I did what I liked to. And now I feel free and light. I made a promise to myself to not to read articles about the ninth episode, no theories, no photos at Kinopoisk. I’m going to forget about it for two years and when it comes I will simply watch a trailer and go to the cinema as an obligation without any idea what emotional impact I had.

This morning I’ve got that there is no point in creating a new script in my head. It’s already written by professional script-writers, and I have no power to influence them. I have no control over it, so I’m better to stop supposing, assuming and making up my own story.

Today I have seen emotions, and inner intentions even more clear than before. Surely, I was calm and observant. The freshness of the picture went away as well as those deep emotions I had. Rationality and calmness have stayed.

I was thinking over my first reaction and found out some answers to the questions of my own behaviour. I’m truly vulnerable to big emotions, I can feel pain made by people. Therefore I try to avoid pain and other emotions too. Just in case. I can feel an offence or excitement too deeply to stay strong. And emotions are overwhelming, they take a lot of energy (or give it) so it’s easier to escape. Probably, this pattern made me feel connected to the Kylo Ren’s story. Finally, I could see myself in the piece of art.

kinopoisk.ru

P.S. When I was climbing up the stairs it just came to my mind that partially Kylo Ren is right. Past must die. But I attach myself so often to the past situations, relationships, and dreams. I know Nastya has her own life without me, there is no place for me. I know it, but I still feel a bit offended by her silence. It hurts me that she hasn’t spoken to me anything about her current love relationship (and I know why). I must let it free. Those are her choices, which are not under my control. I must release past when it goes away, and start anew without any regrets and complaints. I’m better to leave the personal failures in the past and goes forward freely.

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Theatre and socialization problem

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.

Today was a busy and noisy day of cleaning up, shopping around and walking through the town.

At the morning we haven’t had our traditional breakfast but delicious coffee and cookies. After that in spite of all my reluctance, we were cleaning up all around the flat. There were so much dust and dirt at the armoires and chandeliers. The endless cat’s wool at the rug which makes the vacuum tough. After all that black dust and ginger wool everywhere I felt weak and tired. But that was not the end, as usual. I made a lunch for us and a bunch of other small things. All I wanted then was the bed. Really, that was the bed. We had good lunch with marinated meat and green beans.

Going out I was a been afraid of all those activities on the streets because I felt too tired to take an active part in those. We watched the old-school cars, the city special equipment and how roads were blocked. The workshops and presentations began by the national library where we were talking with a man who initiated plantation of the trees at the burnt or empty land. A woman gave me a leaflet on the speed reading school.

While we were going through all that tables and tents I couldn’t talk to mom properly, my words got lost in the noise. We relaxed at the small pretty cafe at the central trade house (which is not popular now). There were fresh air, cold tasty milkshakes and the whole spirit of calmness. At that center, we tried some perfumes, looked for jewelry and went out again.

The next destination was … another trade center. For a few hours, we were wandering around the racks of clothes. Strangely, but it’s really hard to understand what do I want while shopping with mom. We have different tastes but what is more important we have different financial status in such situation. And it bothers me, it makes me ascetic. Another point is that I don’t like mass markets and I don’t like to spend scarce money on clothes.  I’d prefer small shops. Big problem! I know this!

The town was joyful when we went out there. There were young boxers, basketballers, wrestler, some interesting dancing classes, stand-up comedians (which weren’t funny) and non-professional singers. At the bay, the fuss was noisier and less interesting though quite colorful. We were pretty tired and soon went away to have a dinner at the local cafe. That one evidently became poorer with time and lost the former secularism.

Though I had many thoughts and ideas during the day it seems so tiresome now, after hot tea, evening news and the whole day on foot.

fulfilling

It’s not as bad as regular Tuesdays are. Neither rush nor hurry, nor anxiety about the mastery. I just got up at the time and did my sketches, then read the cinema history textbook (which like a lecturer itself is not very linear). Everything is calm. But I feel that this calmness, this pure silence should be accurately fulfilled with proper content.

When I pay more attention than a normal student should do for history it reckons by me like a non-doing “right” things which include the major study. For some reason, the fear uttered by one sitter at the drawing lesson is still with me and it still has its impact on me. This is the fear of being noticed. Not good, really. As a result, I can be lost among other students and people and girls. The only seen mean by this is reminding you that life is yours only, and there won’t be any other time, any other chance for a living. People around don’t care, so you should care about being yourself.

It seems strange to me that I don’t work like crazy but sleep enough, go to the lesson, talk with people and basically ok. Maybe it’s a result of my confirmation with the idea that I won’t be applied this year and there is no need for a real try. But it’s not so. I must try cause at least it’s fun.

There is no buzz in the air but only a blueness of sky. It is very easy to be happier under this sun. I am actually.
Stretching or running hours in the college were so joyful when I was painting our bright stage with the fat woman. Without any notion of mine why girls were slack and tired I smiled on the picture of them sitting in a round in usual way.
Life is contained with days. Days by days. And I have no time to wait for a golden age in my life or in this place with common political situation. This is the spring of my soul too.