Meet with Nastya in Moscow

In spite of the fact I overslept my morning history preparation the day went relatively well. And all high spirit was because of the yesterday’s meet with Nastya. We met at the first McD’s in the city. Everything was strange (another town for a meet, me in the other role, her in more adult position) and utterly friendly. We were completely the same. And that was the wonderful issue which relieved so much. I spoke a lot as immediately I could feel as free as never before at Moscow. No secret in my disappointment in profession. She said that I always could reapply to the different major as I’m not as old as it could be. One of her course mate was forty years old.10913254422f5447ffc06b2de9914ff7

We talked at the closing ceremony of the theatre design exhibition. There were many young set designers – artists in a word. Strangely, she did not talk to other colleagues and was quiet closed. She said, she’s not outgoing and I said I found out I like to mix with people. But I didn’t and accompanied her as a good friend at the unfamiliar environment. I did say a lot about study, my thoughts and even about some ideas. She got very politely some of my intentions and even supported. I hadn’t to make an impression of an artist – such a relief. It’s allowed to think about profits, structures and meanings, not only about images.
We agreed to meet at the vocation and go to skate at the park, said warm good-bye and thank you. Certainly that short meeting was helpful for both of us. She works too much and go out of the box quiet seldom. I couldn’t walk with her to the station, as underground closes at one a.m. and there wouldn’t be a chance to go to the hostel. So I left her with the curator who helped her to take off her puppets.
Today that was much easier to work with full concentration. I saw perspectives, possibilities and felt the desire to pass the session as good as possible. I am alive, not dead.

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Meet with Mary

Snowflakes in the windy air of relaxed town rotated so beautiful that I immediately forgot about all that weekly hardship. Mary didn’t come in time as usual and moreover she called me to say she was in the bank because of some ATM problem. We agreed to meet at the center. I was too relaxed to exchange the idea of walk to hostel’s routine. So I went there and we meet at the underground. That’s not so good to meet after the delay and my discontent.

At the streets we immediately ensued to be at the book store where I was looking for the history textbook while she glimpsed some bestsellers. Surely, I was fond of beautiful cover design and quality of production for all books around. But as usual I rationally got the needed textbooks and we directed to the coffee shop.

As far as I saw that I’d got that all I want is to eat something not just drink coffee. And we left the student-oriented modern cozy cafe, did two steps right and entered the Georgian cafe. That was full and noisy. Children who produced a lot of noise were at the workshop on making the cakes. That was a lovely picture of kids romping with pastry and the mold. The interior was full of New Year decorations like the tree and wreathes, warm lamps created private atmosphere though there were two simultaneous birthday parties.

It was pretty upscale for me, but I tried really hard to choose the affordable dishes. Our talks were scarce. That was really hard for me to think up something clever and fun the same time, to find some topic I will passionately provide and discuss. My weekly obsession and desire to get out emerged. It was almost said that I’m not glad with study process. I couldn’t see any theme out of my daily life with tasks and people to speak or not. Life in the box.

She was in the light dress with flourish prints. Her talks about the yoga workshop and psychology books were kind of common. Self-development and comfort zone concepts. But after all tea, coffee and hatchapuri we went to the snowy little street. the way was long and strange but we managed to speak out.

You know the problems are the same for all of us. The conflicts with neighbours, desire for private life and better living conditions for making a family. She wants to get a family but this is hard in the big glamorous city. Boys like easy life without responsibility, as she said. So Mary decided to go back to the hometown in a year if the situation will stay the same. Happiness is more important than legitimacy.

So we said good-bye at the metro crossroad and I went down with light rested mind.

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.

Meeting and the dream

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?

Course mates at the picnic

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.

Friendly evening

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.

Not so perfect Sunday

Strange day of boredom and tiny sadness.
But the morning was incredible. I woke up early and run to the pond where white swans relieved by the shining water. There were no people at the streets, all slept and didn’t know what a beautiful morning they had lost. I run with struggle and pleasure. Then good enough breakfast and the confusion of organisation. I texted much to Mary but she did not answer me. I did my daily things until we agreed to go to the park. Streets looked enjoying the spring, sun and blossom. At the cafe there were may interesting people who studied something. I ate the soap with bread – classic. My mind was open and easy for everything even for reading vocubulary aloud at the subway. Why not?
At the place I was early and took photos of people and exterior. It was the worse district than Arbat (really?): sectional house building, noisy dusty roads, poorer people. A hipe man bothered people with the books about god and twice went to me. I waged with arms and instantly demanded to go away from me. I waited while sun shone as in June but Mary hadn’t came yet. I wrote her, called her but there was no answer. Then she called and without any excuse said that she’ll come in twenty minutes (that was after her fifteen minutes late). She adviced to come to the cafe and wait for her. So I did. It had been the most despondent sitting in the cafe during this trip. Nor tiramusu nor mango tea nor a pear could dispel the bitterness inside. Immediately I’d hated all that mediocre people around, the cafe itself, the typical district, dust, noise and stir. The vision of the central district with it’s neat shops, cafes and good looking people seduced me to back there. And I got tired to wait. At the moment I directed to the park she wrote me. Finally we met by the station and she carried some snatch for us both as an apology. The reason of 1.5 hour delay was unexpected long sleeping. I still can’t say that I can get such flimsy explaination as reasonable.
So, we went to the park where she began to ask me about the yesterday. I told something and found that she didn’t know much about Pozner. It happens and does not matter. Though she left me again when instantly desired to try the local pancake. That was so boring and terrible to wait among trees and attrations that I called her. Actually the best thing was the ability to talk aloud sometimes without any responce. However, the forest and the lake were exciting as well as many trainers, the tennis courts and the pitch for football. She talked a bit scrappy and it was hard to converse long and profound – we were distracked by different fairs and fanny dogs. There were huge amount of all types of motobikes.
When we said good bye at the subway I felt the bitter sense of sadness. It wasn’t as good as it could be. There was something the same, something alike the monotone melody. The walk to the hostel I took many romantic photos and desired to buy the local chocolate again in the same old shop. But it was closed and I bought the jogurt. No talks this evening, please, only typing, watching Civilisation and reading the book. Please, I need some rest at my cave.

Extra Saturday

It’s just a  wonderful day filled with miracles and sun.

At the morning I pushed me out of the bed and went to run. And there were no regrets about that. Streets were so silent and empty that it had been hard to believe that it was the big capital. No, at the arbat district it is calm as in a little town with the pond and intelligent ladies walking with the beagle, with an old man who work out. I knew the road well and run with pleasure of confidence and pressure.

At the Arbat street air was fresh and springy. I found the cafe, took a cup of tea and sit to schedule activities. But suprisingly I could’t focus without my google calendar. Isn’t it silly? However the sun was bright and roads were free. I had the dinner with soap. In front of me there were two girls and their mothers who are to enter GITIS. Interesting, isn’t it?

Then I discovered the new way to reach the Tretyakov’s Gallery. At the Krimsky Val sky had so much white low clouds that I couldn’t restrain from stopping and looking at the huge picture of nature among the stony town.

The gallery was welcome as there wasn’t much visitors (thank God!). I did everything very accurate as I had big experience in going to the exibitions (pathetic!). The halls were smartly composed and we could go through the creative ages. Pictures were huge and monumental, programm sometimes, sometimes phylosophical. The main thing which I carried out of there was sketches. Little sketches with black pen or indian ink for the preparation to the canvas itself. They spoke me how to create things, how to think. Sometimes I forget that it’s allowed to make sketches, draw ideas and write instrutions down. The painting is proficient in the frames of natural school though his composition is usually cinematographic. There are cuts and not fully shown details as the cadre will change and the next will show us the continue.

The rest of the gallery I went through with tired foot. Nonetheless, I could really enjoy the pictures of some artists. The collection of the twentieth century is so big there that at the end I prayed it to be the last room. But then there was another room filled with masterpieces. What to say here? I want my student ID back to visit galleries freely and do it selectively, from time to time with little portions.

As the great art require the feedback my head had been splitted to the end of the visit. I was in hurry to have time for the meeting with Mary and the main event. It turned out that she couldn’t come. So, nothing’s scary. I went alone to the place. There was so much people that I had had no hopes to seat down at the beginning. But then I found the folding chairs, took one and enjoyed. After the half of an hour with the closed eyes, cup of americano and another stir around the books the audience had became quiet and calm. Just in a moment the waited for journalist came and just on a second I felt the pleasure of seeing the very admired person in life. It was Vladimir Pozner, the journalist who made a few profound films about different countries and the same time he is the great interviewer. I couldn’t believe, but then it was like the talk of near person in the lilac sucks.

He said many profound things about the importance of fantasy and the relevant part of reading in developing the vision. And as usual he said that without any importunacy which is typical for political stuff. Also he touched the importance of writing by hand (what a coincidence! Only this morning I looked for the notebook for usual writing sort of I used at the college). The screen versions and the books he called alarmed the great desire to read, to watch, to imagine, to develop. To look under the cover and find the gist.

The woman who accompanied him was interesting and resilient too. But people sometimes cryed without any politeness or understanding. How little and silly that routine life seemed and how big and beautiful – the world of art and truthfulness. When it ended I went directly to the stand with the foreign literature and considered about the purchase but put myself together and run away to the fresh Saturday Arbat. Sky was full of air and something magical. Something what makes life valuable and wonderful. I flight like a butterfly and didn’t want to touch the greyness.

Write notes by hand, read books, listen music, make sketches, learn languages, discover new, imagine, live.

Another Saturday at M town

Yesterday was supernatural day. I woke up with the sound of rain drops. It meant no running but some exercises and uncomfortable walking. And it was still raining when I went out to the subway. Even though there were many tourists on the New Arbat, no one walked at my way to the museum. But it was absolutely beautiful especially with BBC radio which did the damp weather romantic. You know I like to walk under the rain or sit at home, anyway I like it because some strange sentiments appearing in me such times. But to the moment I got to the museum it had already been snowing. Can you imagine that?
Inside I had to pay for entry the huge sum and had to leave my bag at the cloakroom. Sketches unwillingly were cancelled. Halls were really crowdy like in a real great international museum. The exhibition of the Dutch photographer looked nice and strengthen the decline of traditional painting. His works were photos sort of historical pictures at the digital era.

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All around his exhibition were traditional. The well-known temprorary exhibition of Cranachs excited me much. I liked their pictures long time ago and found it alive and beautiful. Their work is thin and restrained but this only underlines the inner life, the energy. Pictures have powerful energy and big massage. I couldn’t believe that those alive people died five centures ago and there was nothing else by them but the picture and some historical circumstances. PIctures took all my attention and this is why I understood the reasons of poor fantasy of people’s behaviour at the museums. I don’t look at them but at the arts.
I was exhusted and hungry when I left the building. The dinner I ordered at the cafe was so huge that I had felt silly even before the desert. It was so nice to sit there without any sense of oddity. The trade center was crammed with people and quiet boring to walk in. Near by the subway stationa guy comes to me and asked in English either the station is closed. It appeared that yes. I led him to the other station and asked about the town. He’s from Germany and went to consult about 2018. He said that he liked Moscow more and more every time he went. I was a bit pessimistic and told about rudeness and not politeness of people here. When I left him at the cash and he thanked me warmly I felt that my behaviour was typically russian. Sad ideas, indifference, rudeness a bit. And I could speak with him more about something, be sticky but it is hard for me to be like many of made up girls looking for foreigners. I like Moscow where I can meet such people without any special intention. At the process of shopping for the week I reproached myself not once and rotated ideas in my mind. Necessity of speaking practice.
The texts went from Sasha and Nastya simultaniously. I had the appointment with first and unexpected offer from the second. Of course I wanted to have time on both friends but finally I decided to keep my word and meet with Sasha.
At the subway I was sleeping and couldn’t see anyone around. But when I opened my eyes it turned out that Sasha was standing near by the doors. She had haggard look. Messy hair and blurred make up at the pale face. But voice was fresh. That was strange meeting thought there was nothing actual strange. We talked about our education, her diploma, some people we know, some films we watched. But I felt she’s hesitating now, she’s still the same college girl in spite of capital’s experience. I can’t see development. And it made me worry. At the way home I thought another time weither it helps both of us to grow. And answer is evidently no.
At the night I couldn’t sleep long time because of the neighboor’s conversation with the Irish boy. I listened her English again and wasn’t able to make out why don’t I practice language while such people do. I could do it much better.

Meet with Helen

We talked about silly things via messages and immediately appointed the meet. Sunshine and water were everywhere at the street roads. I run to the post office with inspiring music which made my mood even more excited. I could run fastly on the dry alphalt and be safe. All the way there thoughts were being rotated inside as some editor was choosing suitable content to tell her. Usually I consider about the message I want to convey but not always I really manage to do it.

Anyway, when I came to the store firstly I saw her vulgar make up and reappeared local accent. (How deceptive networks are!) As we embraced I couldn’t remain natural enough. We got small talks and led to the zebra crossing. Like people who hadn’t met with each other a few month it was a bit hard to find a proper way for conversation. Like machine parts which need to be fitted.

There was a lot of dirt at that streets and I felt little shame about my decision. As i remember we begun with something silly like visits to a dentist. Strange but she talked about her teeth likewise her life – hopelessly.

At the park there was a wedding: noisy boys and made up girls. I asked her about attitude to marriage. She talked inconsistent and I responded with energetical words but incoherent too. (There’s no a clear idea on this point so far) The old man came to us and spoke strange things we made an impression of listening and then went away. “Why such strange people came to me so often?”-she asked rithorically.

At the cafe we laughed a lot about something, I even took another cup of coffee to rise the pressure. But anyway gloomy things had been. “I know what you wanna say.” “What?” “That it’s unnecessary to wait until proper time and need to go and just do.” She knows about her powerless lifestyle. But as times ago there is no certain decision or intention. I could hear words like “horrible”, “terrible”, “sad” about various kind of things. I pitied her but felt bored. It’s boring to hear an empty belief into my own plans and intentions as everything had been prejudged without my own impact.I found myself talking a lot enthusiastic things again. I could feel almost free about speaking thoughts out (nothing dangerous in her).

But honestly I didn’t want to lecture her about life, I only tried to tell about book I’d read recently. Her responses  made the impression of unsteady soil and weak mind. Weak mindset I would say. It saddens. I don’t understand her sad understanding and ablosute absence of intentions. She’s still lost as six months, year and three years ago.

After she went to the bus and I directed to the other bus stop there was silence. I felt as I got nothing by her but pitiness and weakness. Of course we all can feel ourselves better than we are by such persons. But what I desired was a person who is better in something than I. My mistake was to leave that good inside her (But I tried).