Why am i feeling so fucked up, am i really? Or is it just that self-defence mechanism defending me from feeling normal... not sure. a couple of times i wrote things in english and cought myself writing in rhymed verses, so i wrote poems about nothing. i am fucked up and locked down, one preventing me from drowning in another. my issues are my world. no one can help me out but myself n i just don't have enough courage to try. the less i consider things, the worse it becomes; the more I consider things, the worse it becomes. i have no choice though, i should resign n start dying slowly now. i cannot live being like that anymore. i am desperate for a change. no change i cant change i cant change i cant change, i am here in my mind, but i'm the 1 same person from one day to the next - i cant change my mind..

nononononooo

Supporting my worst expectations, her issues appeared to be much more serious and complicated than my first impression was. I hit a brick wall with spikes on it at a high speed and it hurt badly. Could have been worse if only I got more involved.

Why do I always have to fall for girls with issues? Or is it just like all girls have issues??

Just watched the Casino Royale movie. Honestly, I did not understand most of the things they were saying. I mean this dolby surround kills. When they make a screener they place the camera in the back of the movie theater. Secondary sounds and bart of the music is translated through the rear speakers, and the voices are translated from the front speakers. So when u record the sounds from the back you basicly have the voices down and the music up. I could hear the music very well, but I couldn't hear a single word. As a result, I didn't get a full impression of the movie. Maybe piracy is bad, after all.


Anyway, the very character of James Bond is very appealing. My point is, Craig did his job. He brought Bond on a new surface. He finally started looking like an agent more than a sweetish aristocrat. I mean when I was looking at Sean Connery or at Pierce Brosnon I was never able to see a real person in either of their Bonds. They were just showing around and filling the screen with their sweetish faces. I was never interested in what was going to happen. But Craig I beleived entirely. I mean he does look real, taking his job seriously as an actor, not as a supermodel. You really start to sympathize, to feel a real life in James Bond. This kind of attitude destroyed the Bond stereotype by killing his artificiality and grotesqueness. The old Bond was killed once and for all, because a better alternative was provided. It brought the movie on the next stage.

I really liked this.

Сегодня у моих родителей был концерт. По случаю столетия со дня рождения Шостаковича. Хороший концерт. Мама с папой играли хорошо, папа ещё играл в квартете, в трио и в трио + голос. Папа инспирировал весь концерт, потратил кучу сил и нервов. Не зря. Концерт действительно очень удачный. Правда к сожалению кроме папы и мамы на музыкальных инструментах по-настоящему хорошо никто не играл. Все лажали. Как папа с ними отрепетировал, чтобы это звучало как музыка - я не знаю. Зато теперь понятно, почему он репетировал со всеми каждый божий день весь последний месяц, или даже дольше.

Читаю рассказы О Генри по-английски. Очень прикольно. Саркастично и живо. Как глоток свежего воздуха после этой тупой афро-американской книжки про то как неграм было плохо. Эта книга была явно не по моему адресу. Мне абсолютно пофигу. Я и по истории советского союза и от своих бабушек и дедушек наслушался таких историй, что после этого про негров смешно.

Ещё читаю Портрет Дориана Грея. That's some freaky GAY SHIT u know, I'm completely mortified with dat. This centimental hints like he was beautiful with his curly golden hair, blue eyes and pink lips and some shit like that really is something to tolerate. But anyways, the book itself, the idea and all the other things are ok so GAY SHIT is something I might be able to live with. To be politically correct I should add, that that there is a huge difference between being homosexual and being intolerably homosexual. I hope this whole GAY SHIT in the book won't start being intolerable.

Gush I like my english. In fact it is more captivating to read my english notes than the russian ones. It is like wtf did I really write this? I am so different when I say something in english. It is probably because what u say defines you, just as much as what u do or what you look like. It is even more like what you are than what you are defined as. A person is what he/she does or says or wears or doesn't wear, and how he/she looks or doesn't look at things. It is more like your soul that is what you feel and your mind that is what you think. The mind and the soul are probably in the basis of what kind of person you are, and the other ones' souls and minds are what defines and what part you actually play in life. It is a system. A system to take advantage of. A system which is perfectly suited for the human race as a whole, since it is the only way we can exist: in dependency of one another.

Funny. I read the notes at the bottom of the page and have a feeling that this was today's morning when I wrote this. This is really weird. Is it me, or is it everything else but me?

Morning was strange. I cannot remember anything. What I did or what I didn't do. I just remember that I got up at about 1.40. Then it is like time cut off my life. Maybe it is because I so much did nothing this morning?

No, I remember speaking at the phone. I remember what I had for breakfast. I remember taking a shower and whatching tv after that. I remember going to the shop. Fuck, did I really so much do nothing? Nothing I can firmly remember for a few hours? or it is juct that I can't remember what I do? Is it my memory, or is it lack of interest? Or is it just a blackout? Or is it just called becoming an adult, when it is already so much that had happenedened to you that you don't remember anything that happens to you now?

It's funny how it is hard to organise something like a school trip to the opera, especially in a country where everyone has loads of free time and no wish to help or at least perform one's job adequately and with a sense of logic.

It's dramatic how nothing changes. I am looking at my photo below and realising that I am sitting in the same T-shirt in the same position, head over my hand and looking with the same expression.

I cannot understand how one can live in a world with no God in it.

Johnny's always running around, trying to find
Certainty
He wants all the world to confirm that he aint lonely


Remember me whenever noses start to bleed
Remember me - special needs


I was never grateful,
That's why I spent my days alone.
I'm forever black-eyed -
A product of a broken home


I have never been an extravert,
But I'm still breathing.



It reminds me of the summertime
On this winter's day
See you at the bitter end



Before we design the fakes
We need to concentrate
On more than meets the eye



Where is my mind? -
In the waters, it is swimming.


These clouds we're seeing -
They are explosions in the skies.
It seems it's threatened,
But we can't reed between the lines.
Hush, it's ok. Dry your eye.
Dry your eye.


A friend in need's a friend indeed,
A friend with weed is better.
A friend with breasts and all the rest,
A friend who's dressed in leather.


If you dany this,
Then it's your fault.
The God's in crisis -
He's over.


Sweetness, sweetness, I was only joking when I said I'd like to
Smash every tooth in your head...

It's amazing how I never hurry anywhere and never get surprised at anything at school. Yesterday I cought an english reply to my father's question on the tip of my tongue, but managed to swallow it back and reply in russian. Some day will come when I will unconsciously say something in english and have totranslate it afterwards.

Today I found myself talking slowly and reluctantly, with no particular involvement. I am afraid of it as a first step of my change. I hope to be able to reduce the reason for this way of talking to having underslept today.

I'm getting to be even more of an intravert than I have been before.

I want to close these notes from other people's eyes, but I won't, since I believe that sending problems to the internet is just a way of getting rid of them.

How come I only feel natural at nighttime.

"Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man's heart, and the fall through the air of a true, wise friend called Piggy."

So much ironic tragedy, or tragic irony.

Don't think Golding meant that to be ironic or tragic, but still late at night I think of it as something that makes me wanna cry. This "wept for the end of innocence" is the first thing that comes to my mind after I watch Forrest Gump.

When I watch this movie I cry with no tears coming out. I always cry like that, with nobody to see it. Why? I think this was the first thing I learned after I met my "end of innocence".

Sometimes I think of myself as having been born with a grain of elderness, some sort of maturity, some side of charecter prevailing on the others, making me become an adult much faster than I now wish I had. The darkness of my heart was my all-burning pride and ambition. I was born into it like into the world of mine. It wouldn't leave me alone, it still won't, never letting me live peacefully, with pleasure, no sensible purpose, just for fun.

I would thank God for letting me be, or helping me get, just happy. Through my unwillingly short seventeen years I found out that happiness is just a feeling, with nothing prominent to result from. And the real gift in life is to be able to feel happy, sometimes sad, to be able to look into the future without forcefully pulling it closer to the present; to live long days and see very important unnoticeable things happen; to know that their importance is much greater than anything one might ACHIEVE in life; to remember these things, and to learn to just see them instead of seeing the hardness of a has-to-be future through the coloured glass of really important things in life.

Not to be able to so easily achieve the hard-to-achieve things like getting good grades.

Just live, like all people do.

Why do I feel so different from everybody else? Why am I different? Why am I unhappy with that? Why am I unhappy to be what most people would love to be? Because I'm tired. I'm so tired. My mind is tired, my soul is tired. And I don't know how to get a rest. I guess this is my problem.


"I want to be free from desolation and despair" (Muse, Map of the Problematique)

I know that having these issues is all my fault, and I'm not blaming any superior creature for that. I just want harmony. Just want peace. I might be destined to want these things all my life on some purpose, then I will live with that and see what life brings. So, subsequently, I am as obedient to God's will as I can be.


If that was a prayer, it really sounded like a bad one.

Today I had a chat with the psychology teacher. A nice woman, although she is sure she understands me as a person and tries to open some truths to me, the truths I secretly laugh at.

Today she actually revealed to me that there is a lack of openness in the finnish people. That they (she doesn't think of herself as one of them) are locked down, and therefore very boring.

Oh, really?

I also heard twice from her that I am funny. More: absolutely funny. Apparently, her command of english would not allow her to use a more precise definition than "absolutely funny". But why does she think I am funny? Is it her psychological picture of me? Is it because of some occasions like the one earlier today?

I had to organize a trip for my class, and needed her supervision, so I went to her classroom. She was having a lesson, but still asked me in front of her class, what it was that I wanted. Not seeing any sense in talking business in front of the audience, I found nothing better than to say that I had deep emotional problems and came for professional help. In the mundane routine of the psychology class, this excuse for interrupting met cheering of other students.

I usually try to make fun of something I am bored with. I am bored with the schooldays, whatever is happening. So I usually try to entertain myself like the way have just told about, and optionally try not to offend anyone in the process. This sort of behaviour appears to seem funny to her, and so she thinks that funny is my nature. She is by far the worst psychologist I ever met. She appears not to understand me at all.

to be continued.....

I walk across and I see no changes.

He was sitting and looking at the new image of his diary and was satisfied, basically. Although his eager young mind was always very demanding, it was satisfied this time. He knew: aybe it was due to physical and emotional growth, which always reflects on ones character and usually in a bad way. In this particular case it might have resulted in a less emotional attitude to things.

After a short while he realised one more thing. The brand new image of his good old diary was a reflection of his growing self-confidence and independence, emotional stability he used to have problems with. That has been a discovery which sorted things out. The new way of looking at everything around was all there in the colours he used. They were saying:

"It's a brick world with artificial environment and likewise artificial people destroying all we see around by writing it in formulas and science theories, killing our natural emotional attitude. There are still small pieces of nature between giant brick cities as an option of reminding yourself of what really is beautiful, but soon it might be gone as well as the freedom of thinking and feeling. This will be due to mass media which forms the minds of tomorrow in the further the worser way.

The worst thing about it, to my mind, is that sooner or later there will be no place left to come and feel unlinked to the society. There will be nothing to admire and nothing to discuss, but anthropogene. But now and still we are happy to claim that we are more or less free, more or less emotional and more or less lonely, which some of us consider as a bad thing, but that's not for sure. I should be happy as if I'd been one of the last people alive. "


When he told me all that I just smiled and said it war that pessimism all adolescents posess in a way, but deep hesitation was born deeply inside my mind...

Sound of the shell Muse. Hyper Chondriac Music
and i'm feelin ...... stuck in a groove