After yesterday’s occasion with the absence of the majority of the students, I was up to attend the first lecture today (8.20 AM). But I feared to miss the alarm clock so much that I couldn’t sleep until 3 AM. And then, yes, I skipped the first lecture. But the morning was good despite all the strangeness of rehearsing the presentation on my way to the bus stop. (Yes, I speak to myself in English about all those marvelous topics). Today I presented the British Parliament. I was the second presenter. And I must say it was a bit better than the last time, at least I caught the attention of some students (normally nobody listens) and talked almost everything but the numbers by myself, I even improvised. It was short though the topic is huge and very interesting. However, I was satisfied with my presentation.
The rest of the time I couldn’t get what drives me crazy more: boring, impersonal downloaded somewhere presentations of the students or the silent content of the teacher. It is clear that the axis here is the pluses, marks, and exams, not the knowledge. Yes, they probably make the presentation in PowerPoint and print a list of the text (some even highlight is). Yes, they can read it aloud more or less accurate. But if I ask anyone about the content, it’s a crash. There is no comprehension of the subject and what is sadder, there is the complete absence of any interest. It looks like they don’t care to be curious and the teacher doesn’t care to have the curious student (as far as she doesn’t have it by herself).
I read in one long article about education that pupils\students at the modern school rather “busy with school” than with “learning”. How truly it is!
Whatever, I personally got the strategy of being what I want to see in the world (at least I try my best) and not idly complain about everything. I cannot make them understand the value of time and education but I can do it by myself.
No matter what intentions I have, my alarm clock has its own vision of my morning. It didn’t work and as a result, I overslept the first lesson. The silly thing is that yesterday evening I spent on the homework but haven’t handed it. No matter. Sun shone bright and I actively thought about the lack of own life last time. I stopped making any notes and watching self-educating videos, and moreover, I feel devastated by the study (though it takes not much time). It just obsesses you. The life again got that home-study mode.
Today we again had basic English and it was so stressful. At the beginning, she spent fifteen minutes on lecturing about our behavior which to my mind was odd. She continued to press on us during the whole lesson. Surely there were again slow translating and her picking us. Students went out for a rest (many has a flue) One moment I really felt the blank page inside my mind, like something utterly stressful, was happening. The same feeling I had at the quest with the actor who played a madman – I couldn’t move at all. There was pretty much the same. After two lessons with this vampire, we all were tired, angry and empty minded. That’s not a deal. Maybe I will try to change the group on Monday.
It looks for me quite terrible – this way of teaching, it’s like she doesn’t have a proper pedagogical education herself. What other reason can be for her ignorance in psychology? I don’t know. It’s a pity to see such “professionals”.
To have some relief I went to McCafe listening Adele’s early songs and repeating after her. There I watched some YouTube videos, relaxed and went home.
The Sun is shining once upon a time. My slowness is all about the preparation or particularly the six days of preparation in a row. I know this all fundamentally good for me but this morning I astonishingly realized that for many years summer time was no more than just a hot time in open shoes. And what is the reason? To say nothing about badly established town’s beaches and parks, which are unchangeable for many years. Every summer I have something to do and that deals obsess me. However, the main reason is not the deals but my strange idea that everyone gets rest, enjoys the life but I still sit over the books and gradually transform into a nerd. That’s what I always was afraid of. And maybe that’s the main reason of feeling strange being at the work table the whole day. Not the summer.
Today is the day of the Republic. It never made me any sense of holiday or whatever. I’ve found the new lecture by Chernigovskya and want to make little shopping.
This kind of days most of us usually got up and see how terribly boring, dim and hopeless life is. The warm light inside doesn’t compensate the dampness and coldness of the weather.
I didn’t come to the history lesson but slept. My slow and thoughtful morning went to the silent being at the workshop. What it was all about? I tried to understand something in the air. It was so similar to all that evening at the college when I looked out the window and imagined different variations of future. In the room, there still were papers and easels standing in the twilight. What a terrible hush of routine! We’re drawing the torso. My pencils are short as someone doesn’t want to buy new ones. At the other corner of the room, there were Vlad and Masha laughing out loud about something unfamiliar. The calmness spread out to the canteen where we got a situation with the headmaster.
The more we were in the workshop the more it became a farce. It was almost physical hardship just drawing the torso once more in this life. I read news about the attack in SPb, texted Nastya, she answered that all was basically normal. I was amazed by her calm approach allegedly such things are normal and all will be covered up.
The English teacher was really friendly to me and gave me an opportunity to continue my way of studying part-time. She took me a task which I am to do before the next Monday. That was so grateful of her.
This is the smell of spring everywhere. Those are the dried roads and mild air.
It was hard but possible to push myself out of the bed today. There were calm, yellow sky and no cars on the streets. Someway I got myself going to the institute and even be in time for the first and most important lesson, history. Instead of immersion into the 17 century’s passions, we were waiting for the teacher who set the projector – the first time for a year. Margo shown us the pretty fun app were poetry’s parts were to be transformed into emojis. We tried to remember the classical poem and couldn’t retrieve particular words. Then the lesson went a bit worse than usual though I comprehended it was a chance to remember the pre-historic material.
I felt tired as physically as emotionally. There is always one more day out I need. And a cup of cheap coffee doesn’t help crucially to refresh. However, I had some willpower to paint a canvas before the very dinner. At the canteen it was strange to begin with an odd talk with the animators then come to talk with Mary about cakes and then listen her chatting with cinema scholar who is (as I can assume now) is a boozer. When she speaks I discover what kind of drunkard lifestyle a lot of residents has. It saddens me a bit but makes picture clear – it’s not my company.
The rest of the day I forced myself to stay working in spite of harsh vulgar talks around. I had been to go since half to three but finished that all to the formal end.
This is so wonderful but nervous to run through the wet street to the lesson and try to keep up with the small talk about nothing. I hurried but the moment I turned to the audience it was clear – nobody can enter the class. There was small but pleasant talk with cinema scholars and other girls – what a great choice for talking! Then it was a mistake to sit with the same girls I went there. But OK, I let other people enjoy talking to the teacher and discussions. Not all have Saturday’s lessons.
The content was great as usual, with lots of contradictions and topics for reflection or deeper research. Sometimes it seemed hard to catch the red thread but I tried to make such exercises. And there is nowhere to go without the mind lapse when I feel a vacuum in my head which gradually transforms into the images. The magic of thinking. As fast as the lecture had ended and the teacher was ready to discuss something hugely interesting I had to go downstairs.
There was the class of non-Russian speaking people who was to study the language. The small chaotic room with the little blackboard and mess of papers in the cupboard. The female teacher cried loudly as it was an audience for fifty students. There were some evident foreigners as Chinese and Uzbek, and some unrecognizable persons looked like Bulgarian. Two Americans. There were too active and noisy, the study wasn’t effective (to my opinion – little constructive explanations). I tried to focus on the translating pre-intermediate level sentences. I realized that I usually work at the good environment for concentration and don’t have a habit of working in bothering surroundings. But I did my best allegedly it was a serious task. (I often make silly mistakes)
Sitting in the canteen with the girls and eating my noodles with chicken I had already felt exhausted. The effect of efficiency. But it was the painting which was on the agenda else. The workshop had a diffused spirit when I came. The regular, habitual movements with the hands and brushes. Some moments it seemed endurable, some – terribly boring. As it eats up my life. After two highly focused hours, I decided to go away and did so. There is no need to suffer and loaf around the workshop.
The neighbor can come today but I don’t worry at all.
Yesterday I even didn’t know what to write about if I wanted to avoid all complaints and whining. I don’t like to whine. But the description of the situation in a word such: the atmosphere is quiet friendly, talkative and joyful, but there is no focus on study and the study itself seems vain as well the content of talks. I couldn’t believe that Nastya really showed me her childhood photos allegedly it’s something interesting. It’s easy to look clever and hard to look hearty.
I run out there after the lesson and appreciated me-time as never ever. It’s all like school again – double life, one of which is formal, other is personal. And the concept of being myself isn’t perfect. Yesterday I tried to improve the set as it was evidently badly made. Nastya supported me before the very moment we needed to pursue the teacher who didn’t want to change anything. Everything remained the same though the teacher’s arguments were weak.
I’m happy in the mornings when I feel so fresh and have a few minutes for reading or learning. I shouldn’t drown in this activity but I feel like it affects me in a bad way. There are discreet manners and full-time sense loneliness. And the task is to stay curious, active, friendly and etc. I don’t want to mix with them and spend hours to find a proper key. No thanks. But it’s evidently weird to sit alone.
And the place for relief is a spare time which I can spend on three activities: study, personal life, and preparation for transfer. Each is immense and demand time, power and discipline. And it’s hardly possible to balance all three. Surely, I can just stop sleeping but I know how harmful it is for my abilities and mood. The other option is to score on the major study and focus on minors which are closer to the desired speciality. I don’t know. Or to work on the majors’ task firstly to free the space for real things. I don’t know what I’m here for, what is the reason of mom’s fear.
Though I have found some options, some tiny paths out of the current situation, the anxiety is still here. Compare to the easiness of risky way, the way of compromises is tough in its psychological angle. There is twice more work and worries of student life and with all my rationality it’s not so easy to persuade the body in the happy ending. As far as the reluctance to be in the same position freeze and upset me greatly I should change my lenses and look at the light instead of darkness.
The whole position is odd, make one thing to get another result which is kind of stupid idea. Nobody dances to be able to read. Crooked ways and paths require a good driver with excellent GPS. I know I shouldn’t worry that is waste of time and nerves.
Such beautiful pictures in the purple haze of optimism and inner aspiration to come pictures true. Pictures of places, actions and possible complications. All that went to my mind in the grey lit room with a cup of coffee and some YouTube videos about study.
Even when I came to the art department with the white wave paper it seemed magical. Allegedly, I was in the college I coloured and stretched the paper, talked to people easily and jumped to and fro in the desire to actively do something. The sets were not excellent to avoid my criticism, but good enough to draw. I started with the charcoal and did everything as I knew. The teachers went to suggest something, but recently I was insensible to all their advice (not good argumentation). I do by the ideas put into my head at the college and I am not to alter or even adapt to someone’s vision. It hasn’t the price it require.
After the lunch the scandal repeated. The boy asked the sitter to pose for him at the long break so when I came back from the canteen they were working again. After that the sitter hurried out the workshop to smoke and eat. (What!!) But he unyildingly replied that he’d been sitting enough to get a break. And people were embarrassed. All tried to figure out how that happened. In a moment the fire was flamed. Mary cried on Sasha and he cried on her. But the point was clear, Sasha neglected the common agreement for a schedule and stirred everything. To understand how that was going I should say that both fucked each other twice or more, cried at each other. Finally Mary tried to calm down and pressed him saying she’s not going to cover him for skipping the lessons. And all went on the bad language level. I was standing in a shock, thinking what to do and either it worths interacting. Finally, they quarreled, we all kept tense silence and the sitter was getting his lunch.
The rest of the study I rather forced myself to draw than positively (as the first hour was) tried to manage that faster. Me, Mary and our female sitter were analysing the boy’s behaviour and possible future strategies to avoid the open conflict. We changed the topic and some way begun to discuss me. The sitter said I was updated as I’m aware of some ideas. The minute after the flattering I asked them to stop praising me. The respond was kind of clever in the context. She said I’m afraid of being in the spotlight. It struck me immediately and the finish of talk I can’t remember. Basically it’s true. I’m afraid of attention. The evident drawback is luck of male attention and opportunities to be noticed. I did contemplate on this idea the rest of the day and understood the roots but didn’t got the healing.
As the day finished, the damp street and electric light let me breath and remember the morning vision. The real stuff is kind of distracting. It’s not the meal I’d like to feed myself.
If it happens for me to be upset, this day is an example for such condition. I overslept my morning tasks and English lesson. My calm innocent time. I changed the linen and packed all things, went out with classical music in the headphones. In the elevator I met the animation’s boy. We spoke a bit about the exams and came to the point of English and the state exams. I didn’t prepare for social studies and passed it with 63, he didn’t prepare for English and got 97, me – 80. Those are only standardized tests but in the whole picture of my insufficiency that was unpleasant.
So, black lines and white everything else on the streets, me listening Mozart as a part of mind cleaning and usual road. Undoubtedly, I was late on 10 minutes though nobody noticed. Then it were hours and hours of drawing or pretending to be drawing. Talks were common despite the fact that at the beginning I could even make jokes and laugh at something. Going out for a lunch I realized that I wanted some privacy, some place to feel comfortable. I took the cellophane salad and sat to unknown girls. The other day I would speak with but then I just ate. At the way up I met Sonya, she energetically spoke to me about her two ideas for the mastery. The option of saying about my mastery project wasn’t good for positive talk, so I tried to say something on Pozner’s film.
At the lesson I was quiet inert, read the article, wrote the texts and listened to the teacher. He worked enthusiastically, but I did not care about the drawing. And to say honestly, he is not concrete: “this area” is not the name of the bone and “shade” doesn’t define the form. Vice versa. I understand how it must be but there is no interest in achieving. Looking around on other people and listening to inner voice, I more and more understand that I am not an artist. And I don’t want to train for being one. I’m not. Certainly. Evidently.
The perspective was my best time as I could train my brain and just enjoy time. Though I still afraid to be myself and speak out as others do. Scrolling Instagram I saw one picture (there are a lot you know) and one thought came to me. I want to have a home with family, constant possibilities to study, work on the projects, let children learn everything, connect with interesting people and travel freely. All I want is a little strong thing called happiness (personal and professional)