Russian version

English version

Saturday, 18 October 2014


I know it may not have been the best idea of mine to write blog posts in English, as my mother tongue is Russian and I've only spent like the last 13 years learning English and consuming the British/American media of any kind.
Ok, I get it, it shouldn't be much of an issue after all these years of solid studies, but there is still some level of insecurity when I switch the language on my keyboard and start filling a blank page with words. Half of the problem is in the lack of practice, and by practice I mean actual conversation with English-speaking fellas (calling on you here).
And the other half... well, I know I should read more.
I have an odd relationship with books. On the one hand, it takes too much focus (just so you know, I can barely finish a two-line tweet without switching on to the next one). And on the other hand, books have a tendency to have an ending. And if, only if  I manage to stay focused to read a single paragraph full of nicely placed words, boy will I read. I will read the crap out of what I happen to put my eyes on. It's an everlasting dilemma: never find a thing worth reading or lose yourself in the sea of words, bringing your social life to extinction.
(I might have done so when I read The Fault in Our Stars, can't judge me.)
I have an odd relationship with books
I have an odd relationship with books
Fashion Now book and glasses
Audrey Hepburn's autobiography
Audrey Hepburn's autobiography


That moment when you meet someone so in love with what they do and so alive when doing it, and you stand there looking into their sparkling eyes and promise to yourself that one day you'll be just as secure with your purpose in life as they are. Sort of a promise I'm unable to keep.
I've never been quite sure of who I am or should be. In my very first post I mentioned an overambitious idea of a new life, which is, well... impossible, but still there, demanding attention, at the back of my mind. And I would mimic other people, change my hair and style, take on new hobbies and try to be someone I simply could not be. When I realized mimicking others doesn't make me different, I thought that maybe I just wasn't ready yet  but one day I will be ready and I will change, I just need to wait for the moment to come. Which, well... never does.
And now I am 22.
And I want to be 16, and I want my 16 year old self to be different. I want to be an overambitious kid in funky clothes and with the widest grin on her face, in a group of no-brainer teenagers galavanting around town singing the most stupid songs guessing the lyrics along the way,  just because I never was one of those kids, and I'll never be 16 again, and I'll never be blatantly happy in my teens. And I wish I could have been different.
The first rule here is not to regret what happened in the past. But boy do I regret spending my childhood and teenage years desperately trying to solve an insoluble task of being someone else. I wish I could just let myself be me and get on with it.
So there, I just said it
You know that admitting the problem is the first step
Towards repair, "We all recover"
All Time Low  Canals

mirror black and white photograph