Everything ready, or it simply seems to be ready. I’m going to Moscow today to end up with the institute and check out of the hostel. That’s the main purposes. The minor ones are to walk and write more, to breathe the air of the capital. I need it as far as I won’t be there probably for a year and I will certainly miss it with all my heart. I do now.

I want to investigate some new places though I will need to pack things and take care of my new status properly. I’m going to take an academic relieve for some time. Just in case. For what exact case I cannot guess. But the thing I know is that it won’t be easy and maybe even psychologically obsessive. However, I simply must do it.

My mind is wandering in search for some faults in preparation but I simply cannot get it. It’s a habit to pack things which make me too calm to be confident in my readiness. No matter!

Besides, there is a book of that woman on studying languages I want to read and some more another books by Tony Buzan.


It’s so magnificently warm and bright on the street, there is so fresh summer air which is talking to all of us to go out, to play something on the grass, to drink wine sitting at the wooden branch and watching the sunset. The image of summer is ahead.

But the morning was distinct because of the greyness of sky and hardship of being there. I did read the papers for the report and happily went out. I reckoned to paint today as it could be the college. There was almost no one at the workshop. Mahler at the headphones and the common stir around. It appeared to be so chaotic and disorganised (as it always is). I tried to be very concentrated and think about work but few times talks caught me.

Nastya didn’t want to explain to me why she hides the type of job her boyfriend (and my course mate) got. She became sarcastic and boasting because of my attempts to recognize. It struck me and I asked her whether she hurts me willingly. Her answer was yes and for some reason, it alienated her. At the lunch, I was sitting on the other side of the table chatting with other girls and then just went out. Afterward, she asked had I really been offended by that. In an artistic manner, I let her know that I don’t offense but change the attitude.

The teacher as always was going from one workshop to another grumbling about the attendance but without real comments on work. There were also talks about films and other stuff, music in the headphones and inner freedom to skip the anatomy lesson (because of the workshop).


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.

What a strange day of damp deep gray streets and sadness above all the events. There was an early getting up and productive history lesson (though I didn’t answer questions). But then at the painting, I dived in the process. All waited for Vlad who promised the cakes for today’s celebration. When he came it appeared that he did the cakes by himself at the slow cooker. WOW – was a reaction of all the girls and me.

The celebration itself was actually ok. Certainly, it didn’t make me happy or anything else. It still is rather an obligation for me. Now it heavens with food preferences. The teachers brought the cakes too, and champagne with the appetizer. It was too much. Is alcohol at the midday such a good idea? Maybe from their angle. I diluted it with juice but felt it’s wrong yet. The atmosphere was easy-going, I could hear some close talks at the both sides of the table. But still, it seemed to me boring for some invisible reason.

Afterward, I painted more than usual and left the workshop to rest from all that heaviness. I went out a bit earlier than all as I hadn’t a cartoon for the study. At the hostel, there remained no desire to invest into mastery but to do lovely things. What a dilemma! Being a good student or being joyful.

I need some private life, some people of the institute to go out, talk and drink tea. Sometimes it’s simply terrible to sit in front of the screen in the evenings, without anyone lovely besides.

What a strange day! At the very beginning, this was terrific though I had so little time for exercises and morning routine. The girl on the street was freezing on the way to the institute in the spring gear and no hat. Surely. Red ankles, red ears.

The history lesson was wonderful and absolutely educating. I had a clean list about the topic before and some ideas after. Vague time in Russia was kinda intriguing, frightening and full of pivotal moments. I was perfectly happy during that time and was agreed to continue. But there were other lessons. But at the corridor, I got how easy it was to attract people while you’re happy yourself. I did talk with one cinema scholar and was welcomed by some other people. That was sort of socializing. Beautiful.

However, I felt so good and could talk with people totally amicable the drawing lesson hadn’t become joyful for me. There was the regular noise of chatting, disorganisation and absence of any motivation for work. To add my own lack of understanding what is the reason for drawing. What is the main purpose? And nothing worked to make anyone focused on the task. Nothing new. Finally, Sasha turned on the dynamics and all people wanted to own music to be sounded. That was absolute chaos. I tried to do something and had actually something done but frankly, I did and do draw worse than at the college. And I skipped the last hour.

What a relief to go out to the snowy street after such a mess! My way was to the trade centre in the suburb. Strange? No, it’s okay to buy dumbbells in the middle of nowhere.  Again I listened to the history while the head was relatively clear and felt confused. So many details are out of my sight! And how primitive the knowledge I get know. However, I’m happy to get more and better than nothing and no way.

At the other trade centre that was a vacuum in my head. The famous poet talked about some social and literal phenomenon but I was out of touch. The whole world is in the room I can see only through the ajar door.   The emptiness and the same time lightness of my own skills\knowledge\experience. Zero. The empty field for creation.

I haven’t still paid for the fee and actually have no desire to. But the common sense and my mom are on the other side of the question. I will finish this year this way or another. For some vague purpose.

Finally, a pretty quiet evening with the mask for my face and some tea.

Yesterday evening the time when my next door neighbour shouldn’t come it was the neighbour of my room who went so unexpectedly. She did so before at the midnight when I and mom were sleeping early to go to the airport the next day. That was totally terrible. Yesterday it was eight o’clock – thank for that. I had known that she is a cinema scholar and basically happy to have studied here. As she said: it’s very specific school. And her rustling packets filled the little table I used as a dressing table again. The rest of the evening I couldn’t focus on my reading (for mastery) and diverted to the observations. At one level I tried to pursue myself in reasonability of keeping doing my business at the other level it was evident that it’s a chance to become a bit more familiar to each other, but the third idea grounded on the first bad experience and desire to live alone asserted me to be no more than formal and living my own life. I wanted to go to sleep early as got tired by two busy days. I read an article, worn the earplugs and sleeping mask, and the whole two or three hours of light on made unlucky attempts to sleep. I heard the noises and thought that it’s the way she wants me to treat her in the morning. In the student hostel, you are treated as you treat. The whole night I struggled with the whirl of ideas in my mind but mostly unsuccessfully.

At the morning with no excuses, I did my exercises and the rest of the morning routine. My heart was unusually disquieting, though. The damming loud sound of cinema about the World War two didn’t help to put me together and write something. All people around seemed freaks which I did not want to mix with. The terrible feeling of the ugly duckling and boredom of society. Strange, but in a moment I turned out from the idea of socializing to the comfort zone where I can mull over the life.

The films were interesting at some points but all were frozen and annoyed with the grieve and suffering at the screen. I was happy to warm up at the canteen where I took a real coffee and enjoyed the sunshine. Then the unpleasant and oddly unfriendly stir with the receipts. (some people still have Soviet mentality).

Usually, I do like lectures on cinema history but today it seemed so little and boring that I did notes only because of the forthcoming exam. My mind couldn’t focus a long time and regularly asked me for an aspirin. The weakness of body and spirit which I use as a justification of my closed nature. I just cannot fake an interest many times. This is why it was a great relief to see that there was no real mastery lesson but easy discussion of the detectives. Margo makes me smile – she is so young, pretty and easy-going that I feel the same besides.

At the hostel, allegedly there was nothing to do I just ate Hermann and watched the late show episode. Things which make my heart a bit lighter. Finally, I don’t have to rueful, I can be myself though it means some openness in order of study and talks.

The first day of the second term

The whole night I could hardly sleep well – the wind was blowing out of the window even through the blanket. I was waking up despite all the tiresome in my body (sleepless night at the bus and the busy day of purchases) and idea I needed to get up with the alarm clock. Now I’ve sealed the frame and hope for the warmer night today. Nonetheless, I had overslept the first lesson quite consciously and had no pangs of conscience about it though it was Russian history.

The strange thing is to take the heavy bag with paper and pencils, go to the roads and traffic lights to study. At the crossroad, it immediately struck me that Moscow lives its own life either I got it or not. There is some special air which I can seldom feel and recognize. The mixed sense of routine, disorientation, business and diversity. The life which is going on without particular persons but the big system. Typicality and complexity in the same basket. It is sunny and warm and people are scurrying as any other time, any other day.

You know how strange it is to come back and find out that nothing has changed. At the entry to the department, people forth are observed and upcoming talks are foreseen. Small talks and my barely concealed reluctance to mix with them. Fake smile. But I frankly tried. No set had been done at the moment I came in. The teacher gathered us at the workshop and spoke to us about the program. As usual, he was very optimistic and confessed that every year the course becomes worse and worse, that we have bad drawing as we all had bad preparation at art schools and colleges. In a word, he hasn’t changed for the last month – the same grumbling dwarf. The only fruitful point I got out of his speech was the number and content of the painting sets at this term. Certainly, I hadn’t been amazed at all.

At the hall I saw the girls speaking with each other, one of them was Nastya and for some reason, I decided I need to come and say hi. The other girls were so much the same that I could only joke about that. They were complaining about something. The talk with Nastya and her friend Tanya was kind of formal, though it looked friendly enough. Some moment I saw clearly that Nastya is sort of dump. We discussed the difficulty to go by bus home and she insisted that as far as she had no problems with that it’s easy. Finally, I burst out and said something about mom’s unluckiness at the road and some of my own occasions. She appeared to me a bit self-confident in terms of narrow-mindedness (it’s not the only example). To say nothing about the manner to pull the blanket over herself and let people talk about her. But their company is quite safe for me and this is the major reason I’m with them. No provocative questions or soul’s excavating. It’s comfortable and safe, and regressive.

The lunch went alike all the Thursday lunches. The girls couldn’t change the tune and discussed unfortunate love affair. Quickly I left them and went upstairs to read the detective. About an hour I read it. At the workshops nothing had been changed, the girls were chatting, the models were going to and fro. I and girls decided to go out. So went back to the hostel with some naive sense of freedom (while The Economist at the table).


And here I am, sitting with the greatest dilemma of life – how to live it and don’t hurt people around. Yesterday after the dinner I said to mom I wanted to register for and pass the exams to apply to the other university. So in spite of the merry evening and easiness of talk, she became silent and closed. I know it daggers her. I couldn’t focus on the subject and went out the room quite often to get her reaction. But there was no any clear reaction. How to understand silence? It was hard for me to even talk using reduced colours and concrete steps. To say nothing about my feelings. The whole vacation it seemed so difficult and dangerous to speak about my real vision of study. How little I love and how much I want to transfer.

Nonetheless, at the moment I have another beautiful dilemma which is about this year. As she feels so terrible about this all, I’ve become softer and consider the idea of studying another term. But it is the question of risk either being rejected by the university or spending a huge sum of money on the profession I don’t want to work in. Isn’t it a stupid idea? But while I’m studying and living in Moscow all seem so stable and clear despite the fact it’s neither stable nor clear.

Certainly, I know that hope to learn so huge amount of information for such a short period of time is kind of naive and even suicidal. But is the investment into the dead deal rational? I don’t want to make mistakes, but I have already done some which are enough. And I least want to hurt my mom who is doing so much for me.

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The typical but very talkish Thusday

This day was nice and full of talks and simultaneous ideas struck into my head.

The morning was calm and usual. I filled in the last spread at the blue notebook. The content was the schedule of work to do for getting everything done – it is very sobering. Then I read aloud my history report, got the idea it’s an evident failure of thought and go out to the institute.

On the way I met a girl who once said “How can you be bored studying at vgik?”. We discussed Russian history, the fiction cartoon on historical protagonists, dentists, sleep mode and just the history reports. So we went to the class where I stand up the first to talk. I felt that I my speech was uneven and voice was hoarse. To my mind it was terrible. The message I could convey was incoherent, pictures were scarce and not as good as could. There was some applause when I sat down. Of course I immediately took the notebook and wrote some notes on better farther appearances. Surely I need and want more presentation practice.This is like a theatre of ideas.

I talked with one people en route to the canteen, then with other on the table, farther I met a girl at the elevator and conversed with her the rest of the lunch break. That was Sonya who I met at the first and second swimming’s training. Like me she hardly can swim therefore we were at the same track trying not to drown. We basically discussed the situation (politics or strategy) of institute’s masters and great luck of major study. She described in all details the process of homework discussion with their teacher. That’s ridiculous and sad. It’s sad because of a lot of time killing instead of analyses,  theory, troubleshooting and real working. She graduated from the famous Moscow school without any problem in science but she decided to attend to the art school to satisfy some inner desire. And now as she said her behaviour is kind of rebellion from the typical. Sonya doesn’t take part in the idle long chatting at the workshop and just do her work on the projects. We flattered to each other about the level of the speech, she said I liked to connect with her because of the speech not the age (18) evidently. It was totally fine to talk with her.

Controversially to our intelligent clever talk was the noise of girls at the anatomy. That was so embarrassing to find out that the normally looking girl with good speaking on cinema actually has some age problems (sexual character). After the lesson I needed some rest from all those people and silly talks. I took the snickers, sat at the new second on the sofa and for five minutes just ate the chocolate.

The next lesson at the cinema class was usual, quite usual. The teacher incoherently remembered his life experience and collaboration with artsy people. The film on “Gladiator” production had some interesting details but was basically entertaining and this is why noisy and full of water. Margo slept on the film so I couldn’t discuss anything with her.

The last lesson I struggled to read the article about UN. The pleasure of new information versus tiresome and noise of lecture. The way back to the hostel I talked to Vlad about hot 2012 year when the election happened. Now I am sitting here, need to revise the english lesson and go to sleep.

The beginning of the volunteering

This is the nice morning which I can get some relief: watch late night show, drink coffee, write notes. Three recent days were full of emotions, events and organisational tasks concerning only to the student festival. I take part there as a volunteer and exactly as a personal coordinator for the head of theatre jury.

The first day – Sunday I had to meet him at the airport. I was unbelievably nervous about everything. The road to the airport I talked to the driver though it was silly. My mind was clogged with different thoughts to begin with the order of action to finish with the whole life strategy.

I went out the car and hasten to the entrance. Being inside the clean civil kinda European building I put the hand inside the pocket but that was empty. My phone was stolen, dropped, left at the car, anything but it wasn’t there. It was hard to keep spine straight and not to fall down. I took coffee and roll while there was time. In front of the arrival door I was standing about an hour and a half with the sign in hands and heavy bag of souvenirs and with the great fear. There were so many bad options. Driver couldn’t stay at the parking zone more than fifteen minutes, so he wasn’t there to than. At the time of landing the voice of the manager called my name. What’s going on? I hoped for some information but there wasn’t any. Then when I had been exhausted the driver came to me. He gave me the phone and the boy from organisation shouted at me like I had lost the quest. They managed to call the quest’s name loud. We were standing by the information’s stand when the quest quietly came to us.

I scared to meet someone snobbish and angry but he was outgoing and friendly. His delay had a reason of custom service. We went to the car. The way back to town I did my best to keep conversation but I hadn’t enough information about the program and the arrival of other groups to say to him correctly. So I spoke something silly and common.At the hotel we managed well though there was no possibility to feed him.

That was night but not the end of the day. At the hostel I went to everyone I thought I could rely on to ask for help. Help was about meeting the man who found my phone at the underground next day and\or if possible give me a phone for a day. But I heard only refusals (what a surprise!). Only Mary came to my room where we talked about our stressful situations and she agreed to meet the man. But at the next day everything changed completely and I run through the squash to get it but that was the huge mistake. I spend the whole next day with Mary’s phone which I promised to bring back before the lunch.