daily, privite life, reflection, senses

good old Sunday evenings

So Sunday is losing its power above everything and concede a place for another study week. I’m in the usual for weekend’s evening after-bath mask. There is a good old comfort of Sunday evening which reminds me school time when we went to the bookstore with parents and made dinner with the noise of comedy show or news. I was reading much more than now.

But surely this day as a few before wasn’t congenial at all. Even today I went out of the room just for “not being in the room alone”. I had delicious noodles for lunch, bought two nice t-shirts at the Russian shop and a stylus for the phone. Even when I went down to the supermarket I could hardly be logical on my own (here we are! ) sadness. It went out of the lack of control over my own life on the day-to-day basis. There is no option of modification or deviation. I have to do what is to be done for the session. And it could be nicely endured by me if it wouldn’t take almost all the time with some dull connections and useless talks. I hate meaningless, and it’s the point. I must remember.

However, as I felt killing time was not my main reason for melancholy, the main one was a well-known sense of loneliness. How unique! My position of double life helped a lot in alienation. People aren’t dull, they see tribesmen. At the supermarket, I saw peripheral vision a known girl standing in the queue. It was like the invasion into my Sunday routine. I run away and hurried up to not to meet her again. Talks and smiles, you know. Nastya is quite happy in her successful private life in the new room. Which is nothing with me at all.

Certainly, I’m going to visit home at the vacation – it’s too hard for me to endure the whole time though I know it’s a good test. But, yes, it’s good to remove some things.

Finally, I cannot throw the study on the road and move forward without, I need to put it into the proper place, get papers and move forward.

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daily, scribbling

Saturday

Saturdays are my days of relief in spite of all possible business. Yesterday I went to the swimming pool as usual, but there was a huge mob at the hall – all were going to swim. That was lucky I wasn’t alone. The swimming itself went good, I could maneuver more freely and without that great fear to drown. I exhaled to the water more frequently though it was tough for me. The next time it’s better to swim by myself (without a board) and practice rowing as well as Kroll in general (the last time I tried it, that was like staying in the same place). The trainer said that the water loves relaxed people – I frankly tested it, but while I cannot afford to lose control.

That was a strange situation afterward. I went out with the girl from Directing dep., they went to the subway for getting at the institute. I couldn’t just leave them and go to drink coffee alone. That’s why I left them one station before institute’s and directed to the coffee shop. It could be foreseen that there be a queue and lack of seats. Finally, I amazed my stubbornness – every time I resolve to not to go there but from time to time it happens.

After history, Natasha clung to me with questions about life. That moment the last thing I wanted was a talk on life priorities and communications. At the crossroad, she gaily said that my second tour is passed. That was a joke when she said me “Don’t you want to be my friend?” But yesterday it seemed to me so terrifying. While I was passing her test she failed mine. All talks went to improvements of her life and problems with people. It’s not a good start for friendly connection, isn’t it?

The evening was beautiful. Without any delay, I got to be at the theater which seemed so good at the theater square beside all that stuff. There were real Moscow people in the real theater and it seemed magnificent. I was wondering around a crowd which filled the whole hall. There weren’t any free seats. Mine was on the first floor and a part of the scene was hidden. It didn’t interfere the joy of performance. The story of FRG’s chancellor and his personal referent who turned out to be a spy. It was not as detective as it could be. The stage was set smart and succinctly. Nice colours.

The night Moscow center won my heart. Colours and lights of old restaurants and historical places, clean roads, and walking people. I ate a plate of soap at the very center and could hear a talk of people who make money.

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reflection, senses, to improve

Fresh mind

It’s calm Saturday morning which doesn’t locate at the swimming pool but here, at my room where the cup of coffee and orange muffin are for breakfast. There are also many sheets of paper with various notes on life organisation, to begin with the books I am currently reading to end with the mind map of ways and options to move on.

So I put myself together. Yesterday it was a great research on educational programs and courses but I had tired only to the very evening when it became hard to focus on the pro book and I switched on the 18 minutes by Peter Bregman. Some mind polishing.

However, the last days I hadn’t been so decisive and concentrated. After the hard talk with mom during which I found out myself crying I had been pressed down with all aspects of reality. Nobody can presume how emotionally unstable I can be. So those were silent tears in front of the easel and anger by the weak teachers. The greatest need to talk to someone about all pros and cons without the public tolerance. I had shower and early sleep with a small hopeful thought: But I still can achieve my dream.


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Without lots of hesitation I begun (or continued) my research. I still need to get exact information and exact deadlines but I am not to reflect upon the present situation no more. Let’s move on! I have already booked the trial lesson of English and renewed the cosmetic (which is so critical!) and eye lenses. To improve my fitness I made the accurate choices of goods yesterday (no milk chocolate without any chocolate), and I need the dumb-bells and swimming goggles else. Tomorrow I’m going to the exhibition, bookstore and cinema theatre. It’ll be a nice Sunday I certainly needed all this time!

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daily, trip

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.

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Uncategorized

Sunday of customs

Time by time me and customs meet each other for example the ortodoxic pentecost today. It is so strange for me to see how adult persons cling to illogical things just because of custom. Curtain dishes, curtain deals what were convinient in past but have become rules now. In the cemetery I was standing among my grandmoms, who were reading prayer-books, without any idea what to do. I ain’t religious and they know it. Before this day it had easy mind about it. But in near research I see how louthsome that all. Eating and drinking excessively on open air in the heat of sun and numerosity of people. There are no religious just a custom. My self was out of mood of memories or sadness about dad. It was time to wait till it over and no more.
My meets with real local society happen seldom enough to forget about it. But emotional people of not beautiful imagine of life notices about itself very remarkably. Crying women and running children and sun were everywhere. I told a little with mom on easy themes and watched people around (in snobbish way like I do). That all was felt as not mine. The world of provincial holidays and childish view on religion.

I should survive the heat of summer time in the neglect of my full dislike. Sometimes I will go to colder places in summer or more fresh.

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Uncategorized

Sunday. Weekend

There had been dark-coloured winter dreams at morning until mom’s alarm clock rung. I got up immediately and obsereved our traditional breakfast in other condition. “Iron wall” is still here between me and mom. She plays this part in unskilful manner. Harsh tone of voice, ignoring of my advances etc. Very boring and laughful to watch at. I thought about it, of course, more. She’s my mom in fact. But to my own opinion her bahavior is a behavior of a victim of her own mom. She cannot to say her No. And being know enough about my grandma I could say that she is able to bewitch her own daughter. And then mom continues the wrong way she used with dad. Really this all the same situation he was in. Alike reactions and etc. I see in this one reason of coolness between them. This is why I am still not in angry with her actions. Although some warmth has emerged.

This void weekend was for some decisions about summer time. Curtainly I would like to spent time in warm expensive country with friends, but I can’t and nothing really bad is in it. I will spend time (hope so) on self-development affairs like new artistic methods or learning things I do less in usual time. My walk across the town today took me a notification about summer here. Maybe somebody thinks there is a town, but no, this is the huge mistake. During summer this town is a country. Streets are empty, people are out of here (or in air-conditioned offices), events absent, theatres are at vacation. And the list could be continued you know. But I should have been living in this town during two months after entering the istitute. I hope everything will be OK and I’ll do what I want.

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weekend and death

Being quarreled with my mom about countryside works we are in the different rooms now. It is so usual that I even have no desire to write on this point.
Maybe our unplesant morning with that kind of pressure distort a common mood for the day. I should be work hard on colour sketches and learn a theme for exam. The both of them have been done but not so good as I wanted to have. At midday it had already been a weakness and head spinning, low pressure. The classical package. The “Woody Allen. Documentary” film made me hovering a little with all that real unreality. He said wisely: “The one thing aparts me from the greatness is myself”. Even if it is not meant greatness but something the best this is very true. We are the only obstacle in front of us. (Oh I am so tired with all my pathetic words!!)
En route to the tennis with some reason I thought about death. In fact the day I die will be happened sometimes. Strange thing that I will die but much buildings I like would be on their places. Something will stay here.
Moments I like are when we play good tennis and feel some progress and when I go home so tired but very energetic and alive.

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