пятница, 30 июля 2010 г.
Prince of Persia soundtrack - Harry Gregson-Williams
Люблю эту игру, честное слово...
Фильм посмотрела - хорошая сказка, красивая сказка...
Вот по поводу музыкальной темы вопрос - мне одной кажется здесь призрак "Пираты Карибского моря" ?
Вернулась из Грозного несколько часов как назад
Город изменился сильно за последние два года, пока я там не была.
Не поверите, но в Республике действуют субботники - город чистый, просто чистейший... И поскольку люди сами улицы города убирают, то сорить им как-то не особенно хочется после того как на субботнике мусор пособирают...
Вот что действительно никогда не уложится в моей голове - это то, как они там в Грозном на машинах ездят - это же не поддается никаком описанию...
Они не ездят - они низко летают , при этом все и сразу... страшно..
Поменьше розней между нами - и вообще было бы комфортно..
На фото - Мечеть центральная. Как мне рассказали, строили эту мечеть турки - и она является самой крупной в Европе...
воскресенье, 18 июля 2010 г.
16 jan 2010 | 05:45 Хочется дождя
Сегодня хочется дождя. Странно, особенно учитывая тот факт, что за окном сейчас —21 градус по Цельсию, по Сибирским меркам — вполне тепло.
Но отчаянно хочется дождя, так, словно в нем, в этом дожде, сокрыто некоторое что-то, что необходимо мне сейчас…
9 jule 2009 | 07:39 We are lost in our feelings, as the imbecillus tourist without a compass.
When senses gain victory over reason — there is a catastrophe for all, when reason triumphs above senses is the catastrophe of one heart.
And why the love is always an inequality?
This equation in which more unknown values, than it is possible to imagine. But it makes process interesting.
C'est tout
Bye
Have a nice day all
And why the love is always an inequality?
This equation in which more unknown values, than it is possible to imagine. But it makes process interesting.
C'est tout
Bye
Have a nice day all
14 june 2009 | 06:40 Random things
I found this game at Facebook.
Rules are simple:
Write simple story about you with 25 random things, habits and any facts about you. In the end, choose 25 persons, you have to tag them in your story. So if I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
1. I'm very amorous person - almost all a time I'm in love (with books, music, movies, people)
With passion in my heart I do much more, than without it. And without my friends like Nat.
2. On my first travel I practically lost my passport, all money and things.
Me and my friend , we travelled across the Nizhniy Novgorod region (Russia).
We missed our bus, and it left our station with our bags, documents and cash...but without us.
Hitch-hike is a real thing, you know :)
Strong memoirs about this travel and my Lily.
3. Kemerovo, city in which I spent a good part of my life. Independence day celebrating. The main square of the city. Stage with one of my favorite rockband is somewhere there ahead me, too much long distance. The monument is behind me. So three or four fans are on it. Just for to have better place for watching.
Police. We were forced to flee from the police. And Me and my friend Tanya were there.
4. One year after finishing my education in University I worked at Centre for Children. It was hard and happy time at the same moment. That Center specialised on deviant behavior children (whom lost their parents, victims of domestic violence etc). One my boy (I think he was 14 - 15 years old ) tried to commit suicide many times. It was hard period for me and for him too. He is fine, alive. Me too.
It's valuable experience. Good luck to my collegue Helena M.
5. Sometimes it is necessary to fall down for continue to grow up. The static character of our life is menacing really. Do not stop. Never. Even if you really wanna it.
6. I studied historical fencing - Now I know about Rani Laxmi Bai
7. My longest tennis match 4:03. Sorry I do not remember the name of my partner.
8. When I was born, doctors advised to my mom to refuse me ( because I was sick child with small chances to a survival)
My mom saved me. I love you, Mom.
9. Nizhni Novgorod. Cinema hall. «Alexander» movie. My friend was upset and felt humiliated.
He did not want to know that Alexander was not indifferent to boys.
10.When I was 9 — 10 years old, I could to ride by horse. My uncle has learnt me. Now I do not know anything about it, how to do it. Anyway, thanks a lot my uncle Alexander.
11. Movies always will stay my passion.
I remember, I wrote the review to " Three poplars on Plyuschikha " film with a great actress Doronina.
12. Today I have heard some songs of Pia Sukanya
13. One of my first meet on FB — Maria Ines Cronenbold. We have one Birthday (in diffrents years)
14. My fav film is The Volver by Almadovar
15. I have one friend. She is like an accident. She gets in inconceivable situations. Ksenia.
16. I, as many students, have been in love with my professor in University. As I felt, so much things were combined in him, so much which attracted me. Except that fact, that he was married…
Bogomaz Sergey
17. Today we have burnt the washing machine. I both my two neighbours Alexander and Alexey.
Mourning on the washing machine… and a caustic smell of a smoke.
18. My precious Ange (daughter of my childhood friend).I love her so, that it is difficult to express with words. Every day she learns something new. And this is miracle.
19. Last wedding where I was — wedding of Nat.
20. To conversation about motherhood.
My friend Oksana is pregnant. She waits a daughter. Her partner is in the much greater hysteria.
21. Has submitted documents in VGIK on literary-cinematology faculty
22. My passion to speed is uncontrol.
23. Few years ago (15 - 20) Indian cinema was very popular in Russia. 2009 —is the year of India in Russia. Now I open indian cinema for me again, smart, arthouse.
24. Sometimes I'm becoming a poet. But only in Russian. My English is awful.
25. I am exacting to my relatives, and despotic to myself. Forgive me, my dearest friends…
Rules are simple:
Write simple story about you with 25 random things, habits and any facts about you. In the end, choose 25 persons, you have to tag them in your story. So if I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.
1. I'm very amorous person - almost all a time I'm in love (with books, music, movies, people)
With passion in my heart I do much more, than without it. And without my friends like Nat.
2. On my first travel I practically lost my passport, all money and things.
Me and my friend , we travelled across the Nizhniy Novgorod region (Russia).
We missed our bus, and it left our station with our bags, documents and cash...but without us.
Hitch-hike is a real thing, you know :)
Strong memoirs about this travel and my Lily.
3. Kemerovo, city in which I spent a good part of my life. Independence day celebrating. The main square of the city. Stage with one of my favorite rockband is somewhere there ahead me, too much long distance. The monument is behind me. So three or four fans are on it. Just for to have better place for watching.
Police. We were forced to flee from the police. And Me and my friend Tanya were there.
4. One year after finishing my education in University I worked at Centre for Children. It was hard and happy time at the same moment. That Center specialised on deviant behavior children (whom lost their parents, victims of domestic violence etc). One my boy (I think he was 14 - 15 years old ) tried to commit suicide many times. It was hard period for me and for him too. He is fine, alive. Me too.
It's valuable experience. Good luck to my collegue Helena M.
5. Sometimes it is necessary to fall down for continue to grow up. The static character of our life is menacing really. Do not stop. Never. Even if you really wanna it.
6. I studied historical fencing - Now I know about Rani Laxmi Bai
7. My longest tennis match 4:03. Sorry I do not remember the name of my partner.
8. When I was born, doctors advised to my mom to refuse me ( because I was sick child with small chances to a survival)
My mom saved me. I love you, Mom.
9. Nizhni Novgorod. Cinema hall. «Alexander» movie. My friend was upset and felt humiliated.
He did not want to know that Alexander was not indifferent to boys.
10.When I was 9 — 10 years old, I could to ride by horse. My uncle has learnt me. Now I do not know anything about it, how to do it. Anyway, thanks a lot my uncle Alexander.
11. Movies always will stay my passion.
I remember, I wrote the review to " Three poplars on Plyuschikha " film with a great actress Doronina.
12. Today I have heard some songs of Pia Sukanya
13. One of my first meet on FB — Maria Ines Cronenbold. We have one Birthday (in diffrents years)
14. My fav film is The Volver by Almadovar
15. I have one friend. She is like an accident. She gets in inconceivable situations. Ksenia.
16. I, as many students, have been in love with my professor in University. As I felt, so much things were combined in him, so much which attracted me. Except that fact, that he was married…
Bogomaz Sergey
17. Today we have burnt the washing machine. I both my two neighbours Alexander and Alexey.
Mourning on the washing machine… and a caustic smell of a smoke.
18. My precious Ange (daughter of my childhood friend).I love her so, that it is difficult to express with words. Every day she learns something new. And this is miracle.
19. Last wedding where I was — wedding of Nat.
20. To conversation about motherhood.
My friend Oksana is pregnant. She waits a daughter. Her partner is in the much greater hysteria.
21. Has submitted documents in VGIK on literary-cinematology faculty
22. My passion to speed is uncontrol.
23. Few years ago (15 - 20) Indian cinema was very popular in Russia. 2009 —is the year of India in Russia. Now I open indian cinema for me again, smart, arthouse.
24. Sometimes I'm becoming a poet. But only in Russian. My English is awful.
25. I am exacting to my relatives, and despotic to myself. Forgive me, my dearest friends…
13 june 2009 | 20:40 Pia Sukanya — so fresh, so music, I like this music so
Recently I have learnt about the singer from India.
Pia Sukanya.
I have listened to her songs (some)
I hope that she will realise herself
Really.
Я узнала недавно о певице из Индии. Пия Сухания.
Очень свежая музыка, очень приятная.
Я надеюсь, что она добьется успеха и реализует себя.
Очень надеюсь.
You can hear to some songs here.
http://www.myspace.com/piasukanya
Please, be cultural.
my fav:
Not in control
Promise me
With sincerity,
Me
Pia Sukanya.
I have listened to her songs (some)
I hope that she will realise herself
Really.
Я узнала недавно о певице из Индии. Пия Сухания.
Очень свежая музыка, очень приятная.
Я надеюсь, что она добьется успеха и реализует себя.
Очень надеюсь.
You can hear to some songs here.
http://www.myspace.com/piasukanya
Please, be cultural.
my fav:
Not in control
Promise me
With sincerity,
Me
11 june 2009 | 09:02 The interlocutor
Tea provokes a reflection in me:)
It's in train Ufa — Adler, near from Rostov-on-Don
26 may 2009 | 06:03 One day — one woman
Why you still love her? - I have asked my friend.
She has smiled to me, - Next question, please. I cannot explain my feelings. Really. And I think that it's silly to spend time for this.
To control the love, it's as to control an atomic energy. Noone knows how, but every person try. My feeling to her is a mad chain nuclear reaction which destroys me hourly.But I do not want other way for me.
P.S. She has died after some days —
Cancer of a spinal cord
photo from : http://melancolia.narod.ru/broken_glass.jpg
20 may 2009 | 00:48 КАК СКАЗАТЬ
Чашка черного горячего кофе. Он сварен в кастрюле. Здесь нет турки.
Здесь вообще есть три кастрюльки, сковорода с непомерной, непонятно откуда взявшейся крышкой, и чайник-кувшин, который, как мне кажется, используется в настоящем — не по назначению.
Здесь — это съемная квартира в городе со звучным именем Самара, с распустившимися яблонями, и прочими, нуждающимися в опылении цветниками.
Я ужасно-ужасно-ужасно хочу курить, так… и за стенкой, на кухне, есть Виталик , я уверена, он сидит в сизом дыму от сигарет, перед ним ноут, малознакомый мне, но приятный Витасу собеседеник, и этот никотиновый аромат предательски сочится в мою комнату….
Так, получаются просто записки наркомана.
Какого черта я делаю в Самаре на сьемной квартире? И кто такой Виталик, и что за тип-таки с ним там на кухне, и что я, собственно, тут с ноутом?
Внедряем мы!
Квартиру снял, так сказать, «Центр».
В той, где поселилась я, а точнее поселили меня, проживает пять человек — со среднестатистическими характерами, тягой к разврату и непомерным трудоголизмом.
Эти пять в известной мере одиноких человека умудряются сосуществовать в трех комнатах, тасовать продукты в холодильнике, подьедая все, что неровно лежит, работать на благо «Центра», обсуждая его заботливость и чуткость, готовить кофе в кастрюлях и выращивать пинициллин в батонах (Эксперимент под рабочим названием «Какая плесень победит?» - провалился. Потому как кто-то из лаборантов в неконтролируемом приступе чистоплюйства
выбросил батон, любовно завернутый в целлофан, уничтожив тем самым результат многодневных трудов миллиардов и миллиардов «плесневелок» «плесенек»(или черт его знает как). И современники так и не узнают, какая же плесень победила: белая, черная, желтая, или, в конце-то концов — зеленая.
Трудно объяснить человеку, не бывавшему в подобных экспедициях-в-никуда, каково это — быть сосланным или засланым, когда, спустя, к сожалению, очень малый срок, тем для разговора кроме как OEBS, скрипты, логи, «навернулся», «отобрали „Нет“» - не остается, и не смотря на титаническую усталость, прийдя «домой“ на кухне, где друзья-соратники дружно подьедают купленную тобой колбасу, продолжаешь обсуждать „Проект“ и «Чуткость Центра».
Это вид психического заболевания, наверное.
А внедренец — это новый психопатический тип.
С искреннсотью, по-русски
Здесь вообще есть три кастрюльки, сковорода с непомерной, непонятно откуда взявшейся крышкой, и чайник-кувшин, который, как мне кажется, используется в настоящем — не по назначению.
Здесь — это съемная квартира в городе со звучным именем Самара, с распустившимися яблонями, и прочими, нуждающимися в опылении цветниками.
Я ужасно-ужасно-ужасно хочу курить, так… и за стенкой, на кухне, есть Виталик , я уверена, он сидит в сизом дыму от сигарет, перед ним ноут, малознакомый мне, но приятный Витасу собеседеник, и этот никотиновый аромат предательски сочится в мою комнату….
Так, получаются просто записки наркомана.
Какого черта я делаю в Самаре на сьемной квартире? И кто такой Виталик, и что за тип-таки с ним там на кухне, и что я, собственно, тут с ноутом?
Внедряем мы!
Квартиру снял, так сказать, «Центр».
В той, где поселилась я, а точнее поселили меня, проживает пять человек — со среднестатистическими характерами, тягой к разврату и непомерным трудоголизмом.
Эти пять в известной мере одиноких человека умудряются сосуществовать в трех комнатах, тасовать продукты в холодильнике, подьедая все, что неровно лежит, работать на благо «Центра», обсуждая его заботливость и чуткость, готовить кофе в кастрюлях и выращивать пинициллин в батонах (Эксперимент под рабочим названием «Какая плесень победит?» - провалился. Потому как кто-то из лаборантов в неконтролируемом приступе чистоплюйства
выбросил батон, любовно завернутый в целлофан, уничтожив тем самым результат многодневных трудов миллиардов и миллиардов «плесневелок» «плесенек»(или черт его знает как). И современники так и не узнают, какая же плесень победила: белая, черная, желтая, или, в конце-то концов — зеленая.
Трудно объяснить человеку, не бывавшему в подобных экспедициях-в-никуда, каково это — быть сосланным или засланым, когда, спустя, к сожалению, очень малый срок, тем для разговора кроме как OEBS, скрипты, логи, «навернулся», «отобрали „Нет“» - не остается, и не смотря на титаническую усталость, прийдя «домой“ на кухне, где друзья-соратники дружно подьедают купленную тобой колбасу, продолжаешь обсуждать „Проект“ и «Чуткость Центра».
Это вид психического заболевания, наверное.
А внедренец — это новый психопатический тип.
С искреннсотью, по-русски
27 april 2009 | 17:20 Second chance?
I speak: the Second chance does not exist…
That mean words: Let's begin all with the beginning?
From what beginning?
About what beginning there is a speech when there has been passed the end?
It is an agony and unwillingness to admit the fact of end of relations
But what to do, when the consciousness is in off-line, and all sense organs have gone mad, some like…
Sobriety of mind — it is switched off
Logic — it is switched off
Sequence of decisions — it is switched off
etc, etc
That mean words: Let's begin all with the beginning?
From what beginning?
About what beginning there is a speech when there has been passed the end?
It is an agony and unwillingness to admit the fact of end of relations
But what to do, when the consciousness is in off-line, and all sense organs have gone mad, some like…
Sobriety of mind — it is switched off
Logic — it is switched off
Sequence of decisions — it is switched off
etc, etc
26 april 2009 | 08:11 What for?
What for we shall stylize our death?
Yesterday I was on a cemetery, in the other city…
There father of my good friend is buried..
He was not on a tomb of the father seven years…
We have spend some hours per the machine, on road from Rostov to Yeysk. Have lost the way twice…
Once on a high-way (there is a repair of road M4 — a federal high-way Moscow — Sochi, and… I think, that road workers have removed a sign..), the second, on a cemetery, my friend long searched for a tomb of his father..
On a cemetery you understand finiteness of the existence…
All dreams, all experiences, all achievements, ideas all this addresses in a piece of a stone which cracks on seams under weight of time when there… The flesh which once the vein, wished below decays, possessed and burn with desire, the pain felt…
What remain after me?
I want, that me cremated. When there will be time for this.
I want, that my heart will be transplant to other person if it will be possible.
Yesterday I was on a cemetery, in the other city…
There father of my good friend is buried..
He was not on a tomb of the father seven years…
We have spend some hours per the machine, on road from Rostov to Yeysk. Have lost the way twice…
Once on a high-way (there is a repair of road M4 — a federal high-way Moscow — Sochi, and… I think, that road workers have removed a sign..), the second, on a cemetery, my friend long searched for a tomb of his father..
On a cemetery you understand finiteness of the existence…
All dreams, all experiences, all achievements, ideas all this addresses in a piece of a stone which cracks on seams under weight of time when there… The flesh which once the vein, wished below decays, possessed and burn with desire, the pain felt…
What remain after me?
I want, that me cremated. When there will be time for this.
I want, that my heart will be transplant to other person if it will be possible.
1 april 2009 | 17:24 Love story
One story of love…
One my friend, not Me, but my friend…
He has been in love with most beautiful of woman…
She was his heart, his breath, his inspiration
She had authority above him what Gods have above mortal
And she loved him too (she thought so)
Their relationships last… They were similar to the river.
And this river could be fast and slow, twisting and direct, dangerous and saving…
But, the river runs into the sea…
They have left…
And he thought, that cannot breathe… Cannot live without her even one hour…
But… day has passat, then another, then the third, and here a month and the second…
He shudders still, when say her name, and relentless heat covers his body His memory treacherously draws in his consciousness of a picture of the past…Her smell, voice, laughter seems to him
But all passes
With sincerity
AD note: photo from
http://www.stihi.ru/
Marc Chagall
29 march 2009 | 07:03 Nalchik — March 2009
It was rain. I shoot this pictures on phone camera. An orthodox cathedral is in Islam Kabarda.
What religious intolerance speech can be about!?
:) I think that A.R.B
She does not know that her face looks from sandwich-boards in Kabarda…
Taxi-drivers… Oh Taxi-drivers…
it is a separate caste!
Play a chess :)))
My «Hilton» or «Plaza» :)
«Russia-Hotel» in Nalchik.
My room on the third floor…
Very noisily, but… one good think… «Amigo» it is a restaurant..
Alley.
Traditionally….
Lenin Street…
29 march 2009 | 06:50 Marry
She has told me : I marry
This news will shake up any person.
Nat informed me that she marries this summer.
I was silent some time when has heard this her recognition…
I want to believe, that she has made this decision is consciously, I want to …
I am glad, that she will create her family.
This strange feeling, as if the child has sharply grown and has designated his independence.
Nat she is 25 years old.
She is a part of my soul. Her feelings are reflected in my.
This mix of my feelings : blue and pleasure, and anxiety, pride, tenderness…
It's how spend long time in flowers gallery when sense of smell refuses to distinguish smells separately
Or perfumery salon.
Then for to make sober mind, to smell coffee.
It is interesting, that will be the spoon of coffee in my life now
21 march 2009 | 03:05 A-a-amusing situation…
About other
I spent some time in Ingushetia… In Magas..
And I was witness in one situation
One A-a-amusing situation…
Office, I work there, together with me there are five more person (guys) .I'm the visitor in this place (I'm everywhere… The visitor).
Unimportantly..
And so, I work behind my table, before me worthy any praises a show — five perfect man's asses.
Their owners look in the monitor of a computer — on one of sites the photo of one girl. They discuss her merits and demerits both other and other….
I come closer to them and cautiously I look. On a photo — P.Zinta. I am not familiar with a bollywood film-clan strongly. But I have remembered this person and a name, when looked through pages of the Internet in information searches about Rani Laxmi bai.
It was amusing…
They did not know, who on this picture
20 march 2009 | 23:55 The house of travel.
The house of travel.Today on March, 20. I go from Nalchik to Rostov by train. Not for a long time. Just for one day.Train.I'm alone. It is a rare case that there were no fellow travellers.I am glad when I have a fellow travellers it is interestingly.But today I want to stay alone. It is an opportunity to think.Have brought bed-clothes. It: a pillowcase, two bedsheets, a towel. All this is in a «gas» translucent package with dark dark blue strips and an inscription " the Russian railways "I have caught me on ideas, that I equip space around of me: be it a train, the plane, the bus, the automobile.Constantly somewhere I go.Hotel number — as if it's home.I have suddenly understood, that I search for home desperately in all that surrounds me.Sensation of a home.
I do not know, what can I do to return to restore this my missed feeling of a home
I do not know, what can I do to return to restore this my missed feeling of a home
16 march 2009 | 17:57 Test
Once in university (Tomsk Uivers — 2003) my friends have arranged interview to me.
It was after a big portion of champagne.
Here some from the question — answer:
1. What sample your diploma?
State (without difference).
2. When do you have understood, what you want to be the psychologist?
In college when has read " ID and EGO ", about Electra's complex. (Speech not about Carmen Elektra)
3. Favourite color.
Dark blue.
4. Favourite music.
Good music.
5. What do you do in free time..
I read.
6. Tea or coffee?
In the morning — coffee. In the evening — tea.
7. Dream.
I want, that I had dream always.
8. What the main thing in relationships?
Trust.
9. If not psychology…
Then Direction
10. Wishes to us.
Love.
14 march 2009 | 19:22 Script
The script.
I have already lost count… I do not remember, what is it edition…
It is eternal process:
а. Read.
b. Terrified.
c. Delete.
e. Retype
It is surprising, when I finish the next edition, it is pleasant to me (somewhere)
But… after time, I open the script again, and I begins sick from that delirium with which I have written.
Characters are empty and unequivocal, action scene are senseless…
How is it possible to exist with such woman beside?
Notebooks, pencils, napkins from restaurants on which are written those or other phrases. And which I lose somewhere, always.
Sometimes I forbid to itself to read, when I write.
Because I start to change style (zut, what style????).
I have already lost count… I do not remember, what is it edition…
It is eternal process:
а. Read.
b. Terrified.
c. Delete.
e. Retype
It is surprising, when I finish the next edition, it is pleasant to me (somewhere)
But… after time, I open the script again, and I begins sick from that delirium with which I have written.
Characters are empty and unequivocal, action scene are senseless…
How is it possible to exist with such woman beside?
Notebooks, pencils, napkins from restaurants on which are written those or other phrases. And which I lose somewhere, always.
Sometimes I forbid to itself to read, when I write.
Because I start to change style (zut, what style????).
13 march 2009 | 19:27 Come to my garden walk
Come to my garden walk, my love. Pass by the fervid flowers that
press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some
chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet
elude.
For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits
across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.
Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be
grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will
flicker.
R. Tagore
press themselves on your sight. Pass them by, stopping at some
chance joy, which like a sudden wonder of sunset illumines, yet
elude.
For lover's gift is shy, it never tells its name, it flits
across the shade, spreading a shiver of joy along the dust.
Overtake it or miss it for ever. But a gift that can be
grasped is merely a frail flower, or a lamp with flame that will
flicker.
R. Tagore
13 march 2009 | 13:38 Tagore — My song
This song of mine will wind its music around you,
my child, like the fond arms of love.
The song of mine will touch your forehead
like a kiss of blessing.
When you are alone it will sit by your side and
whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
it will fence you about with aloofness.
My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.
It will be like the faithful star overhead
when dark night is over your road.
My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
and will carry your sight into the heart of things.
And when my voice is silenced in death,
my song will speak in your living heart.
R. Tagore
With sincerity
my child, like the fond arms of love.
The song of mine will touch your forehead
like a kiss of blessing.
When you are alone it will sit by your side and
whisper in your ear, when you are in the crowd
it will fence you about with aloofness.
My song will be like a pair of wings to your dreams,
it will transport your heart to the verge of the unknown.
It will be like the faithful star overhead
when dark night is over your road.
My song will sit in the pupils of your eyes,
and will carry your sight into the heart of things.
And when my voice is silenced in death,
my song will speak in your living heart.
R. Tagore
With sincerity
13 march 2009 | 13:24 800 person are killed 800 souls …
800 person are killed for 2008 and 2009 in Republic Ingushetia (official statistics).
I am in Republic again. Probably, feelings attack me.
The person who meets me in Nalchik and we cross Cabarda - his name Musa. He is tremendous person. He is father of two children (the daughter and the son), he is the grandfather, he is the husband etc.Way from Nalchik to Magas (2 hours by the car). On road the military technics, the armed soldiers, blockhouses and full sensation of inevitability of all it.
I am in Ingushetia, and now I think with horror that I has got used.
But it is impossible. It is the perverted habit . Musa has told to me, that in Ingushetia 800 person are killed (till 25 years old) for expired one and a half year. Are killed. It's not accident, this purposeful destruction.
One my friend has named mine blog antigovernmental…
It's not true.
I only want, that the government was humane that it did not destroy, but created.
That the eyes were open so, as the heart.
That existed not only political interests, but human values also.
That's my blog.
I am in Republic again. Probably, feelings attack me.
The person who meets me in Nalchik and we cross Cabarda - his name Musa. He is tremendous person. He is father of two children (the daughter and the son), he is the grandfather, he is the husband etc.Way from Nalchik to Magas (2 hours by the car). On road the military technics, the armed soldiers, blockhouses and full sensation of inevitability of all it.
I am in Ingushetia, and now I think with horror that I has got used.
But it is impossible. It is the perverted habit . Musa has told to me, that in Ingushetia 800 person are killed (till 25 years old) for expired one and a half year. Are killed. It's not accident, this purposeful destruction.
One my friend has named mine blog antigovernmental…
It's not true.
I only want, that the government was humane that it did not destroy, but created.
That the eyes were open so, as the heart.
That existed not only political interests, but human values also.
That's my blog.
3 march 2009 | 13:09 Snow
Snow. Snow. Snow…
Such feeling, that somewhere behind clouds sits an enraged Snow Maiden pours out all snow which she have.
Every morning snow-white.
And my car…
I hope for fast arrival of spring and summer.
When I would like winter, I fly to parents to Siberia.
Snow and frosts in a prosperity always. A winter , surely…
Have a nice day,
P.S. Recommend Moby «The sky is broken»
Such feeling, that somewhere behind clouds sits an enraged Snow Maiden pours out all snow which she have.
Every morning snow-white.
And my car…
I hope for fast arrival of spring and summer.
When I would like winter, I fly to parents to Siberia.
Snow and frosts in a prosperity always. A winter , surely…
Have a nice day,
P.S. Recommend Moby «The sky is broken»
2 march 2009 | 16:28 Jealousy
Первый пост на русском языке, который я пишу (не копирую).
Посвящен он Ревности.
Ревность, лично мой ассоциативный ряд упирается прямо в Шекспира, к сожалению, и не в «Ромео с Джульеттой».
К стати говоря, не разделяю всеобщего поклонения данному произведению.
В конце концов, ежедневно рвутся отношения, расстаются люди, и в роли непримиримых семей : горыдня, спесь, шовинизм, карьера…
И кто знает, что стало бы с юными возлюбленными, если бы гений автора не задумал их «кокнуть»?
Может быть их съела бы та сама ревность?
Ревность.
Откуда берется это чувство, заслоняя собой и здравый смысл, и чистоту мыслей, и чувств, доброе расположение.
Под давлением этого помешательского чувства умирает все, что только может умереть, и даже больше.
Является ли ревность доказательством любви?
Чушь. Это все равно, что «бьет — значит любит» - латентный мазохизм.
Я не спорю, кому доставляет удовольствие выуживать нервы у возлюбенных, заставляя ревновать злонамеренно.
По сути своей ревность — результат неуверенности в себе, равно как и измена.
Посвящен он Ревности.
Ревность, лично мой ассоциативный ряд упирается прямо в Шекспира, к сожалению, и не в «Ромео с Джульеттой».
К стати говоря, не разделяю всеобщего поклонения данному произведению.
В конце концов, ежедневно рвутся отношения, расстаются люди, и в роли непримиримых семей : горыдня, спесь, шовинизм, карьера…
И кто знает, что стало бы с юными возлюбленными, если бы гений автора не задумал их «кокнуть»?
Может быть их съела бы та сама ревность?
Ревность.
Откуда берется это чувство, заслоняя собой и здравый смысл, и чистоту мыслей, и чувств, доброе расположение.
Под давлением этого помешательского чувства умирает все, что только может умереть, и даже больше.
Является ли ревность доказательством любви?
Чушь. Это все равно, что «бьет — значит любит» - латентный мазохизм.
Я не спорю, кому доставляет удовольствие выуживать нервы у возлюбенных, заставляя ревновать злонамеренно.
По сути своей ревность — результат неуверенности в себе, равно как и измена.
пятница, 16 июля 2010 г.
8 fev 2009 | 14:37 Djeirah
Djeirah — Ingushetia — is more pleasant place than Davos or some like…
My trip to Djeirah has happened yesterday.
It was two amazing days in this place.
I was upset because I have not taken the camera.
I have made these pictures on phone camera.
The tower complex has no analogues in the world.
And it is destroyed by barbarity of militarians.
Mountains are deceptive.
When you look at mountain you think, that it's small and it to obey you with ease.
But, as soon as you make a first step — the confidence disappears.
Self-confidence at bottom, despair and persistence on a way, and happiness at top.
With sincerity,
from night Magas (Ingushetia)
Photo by me
6 fev 2009 | 17:06 About tools
” The slumdogs millionaire “
I did not watch this film before, with all World . But I can understand feelings the some indian people in this occasion. To understand... For example, I do not know any screen version of novels of Tolstoi which would satisfy me as the spectator (only Feodor Bondarchuk and his “War and Peace”. I adore his Pierre Bezuhov) But I know that the Hollywood adaptations are very popular around the world, but not in Russia. “Anna Karenina”, “Doctor Zhivago”, ” The Master and Margarita ” at last. Only the Russian director, a script writer, the playwright, the actor can adapt, play, to filming creations of Russian classical writers. Music can destroy much more borders than cinema. The literature is as the woman without complexes. But the cinema is other business.The cinema in India is not only business (and not only in India), it is the tool. I do not like, when in foreign films the Russians are drunk and constantly use "fuck" as an interjection. And I can understand, that the social drama about people living in poverty can like not to all. Sweet histories about one-way love and terrible intrigues of parents is one (and it is cinema is necessary too, differently it would not have a box-office). Histories about difficulties of a life and about how people overcome them, it is another. My country is worthy of demonstrations both its great sides, and not also. If I perceive my country (in which I live) only as the Native land of Tolstoi, Dostoevsky and Perestroika and if I do not accept intrusion into Afghanistan, destruction of the Caucasian nationalities, a genocide in the present day which is in Russia — it means I’m not the citizen of my country. It is easy to tell to itself, that the negative is not exist. But it is difficult to admit to itself that it is, and more difficult to resist to this, try to change it.
The cinema is the great tool.
With sincerity from Magas
I did not watch this film before, with all World . But I can understand feelings the some indian people in this occasion. To understand... For example, I do not know any screen version of novels of Tolstoi which would satisfy me as the spectator (only Feodor Bondarchuk and his “War and Peace”. I adore his Pierre Bezuhov) But I know that the Hollywood adaptations are very popular around the world, but not in Russia. “Anna Karenina”, “Doctor Zhivago”, ” The Master and Margarita ” at last. Only the Russian director, a script writer, the playwright, the actor can adapt, play, to filming creations of Russian classical writers. Music can destroy much more borders than cinema. The literature is as the woman without complexes. But the cinema is other business.The cinema in India is not only business (and not only in India), it is the tool. I do not like, when in foreign films the Russians are drunk and constantly use "fuck" as an interjection. And I can understand, that the social drama about people living in poverty can like not to all. Sweet histories about one-way love and terrible intrigues of parents is one (and it is cinema is necessary too, differently it would not have a box-office). Histories about difficulties of a life and about how people overcome them, it is another. My country is worthy of demonstrations both its great sides, and not also. If I perceive my country (in which I live) only as the Native land of Tolstoi, Dostoevsky and Perestroika and if I do not accept intrusion into Afghanistan, destruction of the Caucasian nationalities, a genocide in the present day which is in Russia — it means I’m not the citizen of my country. It is easy to tell to itself, that the negative is not exist. But it is difficult to admit to itself that it is, and more difficult to resist to this, try to change it.
The cinema is the great tool.
With sincerity from Magas
1 fev 2009 | 10:59 Час Земли
Все просто как щелчок выключателя!
Все просто как щелчок выключателя!
То, что началось с небольшой кампании в австралийском городе Сиднеe, сейчас превратилось в крупнейшее мировое событие по проблеме изменения климата. 28 марта 2009, в 20:30, люди на всей планете выключат свет на один час – на Час Земли. Мы ожидаем, что в акции примет участие один миллиард человек, более тысячи городов по всему миру – люди всего мира объединятся, чтобы доказать, что абсолютно каждый может предпринять действия для сохранения здорового климата на нашей Планете.
Час Земли был впервые проведен в Сиднее, Австралия, в 2007 году. Тогда более двух миллионов жителей и коммерческих структур выключили свет на один час. Уже через год это переросло в событие мирового масштаба и привлекло около 100 миллионов участников в 35 странах. Самые знаменитые и популярные конструкции, такие как мост Золотые Ворота в Сан-Франциско, римский Колизей и знаменитая реклама Кока-Колы на Таймс-сквер в Нью-Йорке – все стояли без подсветки, как символы надежды на решение проблем, которые становятся с каждым часом все актуальнее.
Час Земли 2009 – это призыв к действию каждого – будь то простой человек или президент, маленький магазинчик или огромная сеть ресторанов, загородный дом или самый знаменитый офисный центр в городе. Откладывать нельзя. Ответственность за наше будущее лежит на каждом из нас уже сейчас. Самые знаменитые здания по обе стороны океана погрузятся во тьму. Люди во всех уголках планеты выключат свет, тем самым показав свое понимание и участие к судьбе нашей единственной Планеты.
Более 64 стран уже принимают участие в Часе Земли в 2009 году. С каждым днем число участников увеличивается – все больше людей понимают, как его личное участие может оказать столь глобальное влияние в целом.
Час Земли – это наша общая надежда и наш общий призыв к действию. Значение имеет участие каждого
Присоединяйтесь к нам, выключайте свет 28 Марта в 20:30 по местному времени.
http://www.earthhour.org/
P.S. Это мой первый пост на русском.
Я надеюсь, нас будет много в «Час Земли»
Все просто как щелчок выключателя!
То, что началось с небольшой кампании в австралийском городе Сиднеe, сейчас превратилось в крупнейшее мировое событие по проблеме изменения климата. 28 марта 2009, в 20:30, люди на всей планете выключат свет на один час – на Час Земли. Мы ожидаем, что в акции примет участие один миллиард человек, более тысячи городов по всему миру – люди всего мира объединятся, чтобы доказать, что абсолютно каждый может предпринять действия для сохранения здорового климата на нашей Планете.
Час Земли был впервые проведен в Сиднее, Австралия, в 2007 году. Тогда более двух миллионов жителей и коммерческих структур выключили свет на один час. Уже через год это переросло в событие мирового масштаба и привлекло около 100 миллионов участников в 35 странах. Самые знаменитые и популярные конструкции, такие как мост Золотые Ворота в Сан-Франциско, римский Колизей и знаменитая реклама Кока-Колы на Таймс-сквер в Нью-Йорке – все стояли без подсветки, как символы надежды на решение проблем, которые становятся с каждым часом все актуальнее.
Час Земли 2009 – это призыв к действию каждого – будь то простой человек или президент, маленький магазинчик или огромная сеть ресторанов, загородный дом или самый знаменитый офисный центр в городе. Откладывать нельзя. Ответственность за наше будущее лежит на каждом из нас уже сейчас. Самые знаменитые здания по обе стороны океана погрузятся во тьму. Люди во всех уголках планеты выключат свет, тем самым показав свое понимание и участие к судьбе нашей единственной Планеты.
Более 64 стран уже принимают участие в Часе Земли в 2009 году. С каждым днем число участников увеличивается – все больше людей понимают, как его личное участие может оказать столь глобальное влияние в целом.
Час Земли – это наша общая надежда и наш общий призыв к действию. Значение имеет участие каждого
Присоединяйтесь к нам, выключайте свет 28 Марта в 20:30 по местному времени.
http://www.earthhour.org/
P.S. Это мой первый пост на русском.
Я надеюсь, нас будет много в «Час Земли»
30 jan 2009 | 15:51 I do not know how in others places, but in Russia trains are something
I do not know how in others places, but trains are something in Russia.
Now I go from Rostov —On — Don to Nalchik (the Kabardino-Balkarian republic), few hours ago it has been one trip by the car to Ingushetia — Magas.
So, about the Russian railways…
The eighteenth century was coming to an end. The Great Emperor did not know that Russia lags behind the advanced countries of the world. The horse is the primary means of movement within the big Russia. But technological progress is inevitable. The first railway was built between Moscow and Tsarskoye Selo.
It was the imperial fun. For the rich and famous, for the favorites and the favorites.
Then the railway communication began to develop. And when in the world the railway transportation became standard, in Russia it was the privilege of notable people.
Then Revolution. And railways bore on themselves a sickle and a hammer of communism. (By the way, only from book of Arundhaty Roi I have learned that Russia is similar to India not only by Roerich or Chakroborty, but also… Communism. Communistic movements were very strong during 60-s' years in India).
But about railway achievements in Russia…
The communism travelled on a iron hump down to 1990. I feel myself some like witness of great death (or murders).
Communist rails were destroyed in 1990.
And emptiness. Misunderstanding. Confused (and if it is possible to apply this word to him, but tousled) Michael Gorbachev. I remember him very well.
All has changed.
Railway valour of Russia has turned to her shame. All is destroyed. Miners sat on rails, demanding wages for half-year. Rails, cars — all was plundered.
People have lost the country and tried to compensate this loss by all than will turn up.
Now is 8 p.m. Soluble coffee in a glass with a metal coaster. The teaspoon clanking, it irritates me a little. But I bear. I go by a double compartment. I'm alone, and InshAllah.
The train brakes so, that my glass strives to jump off from a small little table. The battery on mine notebook is over soon. I have no opportunity to write longer.
I hope, that this record was interesting to you.
14 jan 2009 | 17:32 The modesty decorates men only
The modesty decorates men only.
It is considered that modesty is female destiny.
Thus free expression of the ideas is perceived as forwardness frequently.
I do not think so.
Here a question of respect of freedom of other person, and feelings of other person.
Freedom to be not free to care of feelings of other people.
When one person cares of feelings of another, he expresses the ideas freely in relation to himself, and validly in relation to anothers. It is an attribute of adult.
What a attribute of modesty?
The modest person is almost always self-sufficient. He does not show the small achievements as like in a big way to presentation new shatle in NACA for example.
I like strong self-sufficient people which are capable of decisions, on acts and which are little confused by compliments.
It is considered that modesty is female destiny.
Thus free expression of the ideas is perceived as forwardness frequently.
I do not think so.
Here a question of respect of freedom of other person, and feelings of other person.
Freedom to be not free to care of feelings of other people.
When one person cares of feelings of another, he expresses the ideas freely in relation to himself, and validly in relation to anothers. It is an attribute of adult.
What a attribute of modesty?
The modest person is almost always self-sufficient. He does not show the small achievements as like in a big way to presentation new shatle in NACA for example.
I like strong self-sufficient people which are capable of decisions, on acts and which are little confused by compliments.
13 jan 2009 | 19:00 The message
Blindness, dumbness, deafness are illnesses of the modern person.
Every day brings changes. But millions people suffer from monotony… Why?
Why, when the world speaks with us, we do not notice it, we do not hear or we do not want to hear.
The signs, directing, they are everywhere, but we go as herd of sheeps without the shepherd.
And if one of sheeps goes to other side because she has understood something.
Every day signs.
Every day a sight in wrong way.
Good night for all
Every day brings changes. But millions people suffer from monotony… Why?
Why, when the world speaks with us, we do not notice it, we do not hear or we do not want to hear.
The signs, directing, they are everywhere, but we go as herd of sheeps without the shepherd.
And if one of sheeps goes to other side because she has understood something.
Every day signs.
Every day a sight in wrong way.
Good night for all
28 dec 2008 | 18:34 Pain
Pain.
I remember, when I went to school the teacher of biology have asked us.
She has asked: " What do you think about a pain? ".
And I remember, that all have answered, that pain is poorly, and that the pain should not exist in general.
And then for the first time, having realized logic of the teacher, I have understood, that the pain is necessary for the person.
It's not a recognition of masohist as can seem.
I do not love a pain. It's as the neigbour who has called for salt and does not leave in any way.
The pain will tell about you that nobody will tell.
Pain is the tremendous teacher.
Ask any person. Everyone remember, when he felt a pain.
And still
I do not know why but when the man expresses his opinion is it normally and noteworthily.
But when the woman expresses her opinion is it an emotional delirium and it is not necessary to listen.
Why, when, for example, the man-actor creates his own prod. center is it a step of his personal and professional development.
But, if the woman will create the prod.center — that it is perceived as gesture of despair.
Why to have sex with several women for the man is a norm.
But when the woman has some lovers — she automatically turns to the whore.
Finally, who has told, what the woman are it a saucepans and a toxicosis? And the man is a self-improvement and developing?
Why man's aspiration to be the first are norm.
And female's are a deviation.
Why the woman — leader either bitch, or frigid, or the lesbian?
Why the woman should be necessarily married?
Is that a duty? For what?
I hate double standards.
I do not like, when someone tries to look better, than he is actually.
Impossibility to accept yourself is the biggest weakness in the world.
With Big ask
I remember, when I went to school the teacher of biology have asked us.
She has asked: " What do you think about a pain? ".
And I remember, that all have answered, that pain is poorly, and that the pain should not exist in general.
And then for the first time, having realized logic of the teacher, I have understood, that the pain is necessary for the person.
It's not a recognition of masohist as can seem.
I do not love a pain. It's as the neigbour who has called for salt and does not leave in any way.
The pain will tell about you that nobody will tell.
Pain is the tremendous teacher.
Ask any person. Everyone remember, when he felt a pain.
And still
I do not know why but when the man expresses his opinion is it normally and noteworthily.
But when the woman expresses her opinion is it an emotional delirium and it is not necessary to listen.
Why, when, for example, the man-actor creates his own prod. center is it a step of his personal and professional development.
But, if the woman will create the prod.center — that it is perceived as gesture of despair.
Why to have sex with several women for the man is a norm.
But when the woman has some lovers — she automatically turns to the whore.
Finally, who has told, what the woman are it a saucepans and a toxicosis? And the man is a self-improvement and developing?
Why man's aspiration to be the first are norm.
And female's are a deviation.
Why the woman — leader either bitch, or frigid, or the lesbian?
Why the woman should be necessarily married?
Is that a duty? For what?
I hate double standards.
I do not like, when someone tries to look better, than he is actually.
Impossibility to accept yourself is the biggest weakness in the world.
With Big ask
23 dec 2008 | 16:05 Economic crisis as a social drama
Somebody thought what the economic crisis is not simply a fever of exchange parameters?
First of all, it's a social drama.
Today, when I went home, by radio informed that the owner some large consulting business in America has committed suicide.
He has enclosed money in a financial pyramid, and that, naturally, has collapsed.
But any radio station in the world don't narrate that in a small small town Kemerovo from mines is dismissed with hundreds people!
Miners remain without means of subsistence.
I know only one case when the engineer, which has worked twenty years on mine, he has been dismissed.The person has come home, has said goodbye to mother, and has shot to itself at a head!!!
And the reason here not only that he will have nothing to eat, and nothing to support his old mother.
All life he worked on mine, work was his life, he has enclosed his soul in it, he has enclosed in it all himself.
And in one moment they simply told him, that he is not necessary any more.
I don't have a words…
First of all, it's a social drama.
Today, when I went home, by radio informed that the owner some large consulting business in America has committed suicide.
He has enclosed money in a financial pyramid, and that, naturally, has collapsed.
But any radio station in the world don't narrate that in a small small town Kemerovo from mines is dismissed with hundreds people!
Miners remain without means of subsistence.
I know only one case when the engineer, which has worked twenty years on mine, he has been dismissed.The person has come home, has said goodbye to mother, and has shot to itself at a head!!!
And the reason here not only that he will have nothing to eat, and nothing to support his old mother.
All life he worked on mine, work was his life, he has enclosed his soul in it, he has enclosed in it all himself.
And in one moment they simply told him, that he is not necessary any more.
I don't have a words…
23 dec 2008 | 11:28 Protest for www.odnoklassniki.ru
Today I do not use the resource of www.odnoklassniki.ru as a token of my protest.
I object against that the design of my personal page was changed without notification me.
I peaceful girl, and probably, if administration of site simply informed me that changes are expected on my page. I would accept these changes more quietly. But to find out the total correction of visual picture of my personal page as post factum — it too much.
If citizens defended their rights with same activity (taking part in the election, for example), showed their activity in eleemosynary actions and some like that…
The world will change to the best, when we will do something for this purpose.
My work give me much possibility to travel. I saw many people, many of which now are only appearance misnamed and person, but with a proof emotional loop. I saw and, unfortunately, see a human callousness and indifference. But I see kindness and excessive generosity similarly.
With sincerity,
I object against that the design of my personal page was changed without notification me.
I peaceful girl, and probably, if administration of site simply informed me that changes are expected on my page. I would accept these changes more quietly. But to find out the total correction of visual picture of my personal page as post factum — it too much.
If citizens defended their rights with same activity (taking part in the election, for example), showed their activity in eleemosynary actions and some like that…
The world will change to the best, when we will do something for this purpose.
My work give me much possibility to travel. I saw many people, many of which now are only appearance misnamed and person, but with a proof emotional loop. I saw and, unfortunately, see a human callousness and indifference. But I see kindness and excessive generosity similarly.
With sincerity,
22 dec 2008 | 15:23 Rostov in ice
Today city was occupied by ice, it is literally.
Ice are everywhere.
And a strange combination is: a cold and a rain.
Under legs are ice, and raining from sky.
I warmed my car within twenty minutes.
Take care in a way.
Ice are everywhere.
And a strange combination is: a cold and a rain.
Under legs are ice, and raining from sky.
I warmed my car within twenty minutes.
Take care in a way.
21 dec 2008 | 11:14 When we say :I love you
Why we do not speak about our feelings? What forces us to sink in own feelings silently?
We speak easier about our ideas , than about our emotions.
Probably, emotions are a part of our essence. Ideas are a part of our consciousness.
To share ideas do not give our emotions.
But sometimes, we risk
And we open doors in confidential zones of ourselves — and say «I love you».
When we say I love you — we incur the huge responsibility for the one to whom we have told it.
But all of us?
Or…
We speak easier about our ideas , than about our emotions.
Probably, emotions are a part of our essence. Ideas are a part of our consciousness.
To share ideas do not give our emotions.
But sometimes, we risk
And we open doors in confidential zones of ourselves — and say «I love you».
When we say I love you — we incur the huge responsibility for the one to whom we have told it.
But all of us?
Or…
16 декабря 2008 | 15:00 Pain of my soul
On December, 17 — day of death of my friend.
He has died of a cancer of a brain.
He did not surrender up to the end. He was not and 30 years old.
His laughter, smile, his dreams, our meetings and conversations
I was not near to him.
Forgive me
from my old blog: 12 декабря 2008 | 16:27 In the previous series
Is it possible really, that we regenerate in each new life ?
And we live our life, we do acts, we go on our way drawn by destiny.
What reason can explain when we are guided by presentiments?Whence is so much concurrences in our lives it?
For example, date of a birth, hobby, event in a life.
I was born in January of 24-th for 2,5 months before term.
I adore the literature, photo, psychology and more outer things.
And I am accompanied with figure 7.
What can it means?
have I my destiny, use I my own way?
I feel only one, that even if my destiny is predetermined, I should make acts and make a choice.
Only in this case I can execute my reserving.
I want to tell, our destiny waiting us.
But if we shall not do anything in our lives, the destiny can lose the way.
Simple philosophy of correct and duly things.
And we live our life, we do acts, we go on our way drawn by destiny.
What reason can explain when we are guided by presentiments?Whence is so much concurrences in our lives it?
For example, date of a birth, hobby, event in a life.
I was born in January of 24-th for 2,5 months before term.
I adore the literature, photo, psychology and more outer things.
And I am accompanied with figure 7.
What can it means?
have I my destiny, use I my own way?
I feel only one, that even if my destiny is predetermined, I should make acts and make a choice.
Only in this case I can execute my reserving.
I want to tell, our destiny waiting us.
But if we shall not do anything in our lives, the destiny can lose the way.
Simple philosophy of correct and duly things.
From my old blog:Telephone conversations.
How you begin telephone conversation?
«Hi» .Some like that, am I right?
Frequently I observe of people.
And when they talk by mobile phones too.
For example, guys frequently smoke, when they speak by phone. Something like: " Baby, (inhaling), I miss you (inhaling) " etc.
I hate when they calls woman as Baby. Like pets.
I do not understand, when girls take offence at guys that those have not called them within day (at least hundred time).
One my familiar is pathologically jealous young lady.
If her boyfriend does not call to her within day, then her logic works as rather perverted imagination.
If there is no phone call, means that he have a sex with other girl.
But I have even less understanding when my man calls to me and starts with words: " Why you do not call to me? ".
Unless should I ? If I have no what to tell? We meet in the evening and then it is possible to tell everything, that is necessary.
I can call few times and tell, that I miss, but only when I really feel, that I miss him.
I adore to be silent with my man.
Not everyone man is capable to be silent near the woman , I know it.
I like to be silent simply. To be silent probably about personal or about something common.
I'm silent more often.
But sometimes it is impossible to stop me.
Sometimes…
I begin my telephone conversations with words " My Soul, how are you ?» (not for all)
With sincerity,
«Hi» .Some like that, am I right?
Frequently I observe of people.
And when they talk by mobile phones too.
For example, guys frequently smoke, when they speak by phone. Something like: " Baby, (inhaling), I miss you (inhaling) " etc.
I hate when they calls woman as Baby. Like pets.
I do not understand, when girls take offence at guys that those have not called them within day (at least hundred time).
One my familiar is pathologically jealous young lady.
If her boyfriend does not call to her within day, then her logic works as rather perverted imagination.
If there is no phone call, means that he have a sex with other girl.
But I have even less understanding when my man calls to me and starts with words: " Why you do not call to me? ".
Unless should I ? If I have no what to tell? We meet in the evening and then it is possible to tell everything, that is necessary.
I can call few times and tell, that I miss, but only when I really feel, that I miss him.
I adore to be silent with my man.
Not everyone man is capable to be silent near the woman , I know it.
I like to be silent simply. To be silent probably about personal or about something common.
I'm silent more often.
But sometimes it is impossible to stop me.
Sometimes…
I begin my telephone conversations with words " My Soul, how are you ?» (not for all)
With sincerity,
From my old blog: Dream
Dream.
When the person realizes his dream what happens further?
How much time it is necessary for the new dream born?
Or the person has some dreams?
When the person realizes his dream what happens further?
How much time it is necessary for the new dream born?
Or the person has some dreams?
From my old blog: Friday
Friday.
I adore Friday for that it gives me understanding of closeness of weekend.
Friday enables to sum up week, and I love, when an output-input ratio is approached by 1.
With sincerity
I adore Friday for that it gives me understanding of closeness of weekend.
Friday enables to sum up week, and I love, when an output-input ratio is approached by 1.
With sincerity
From my old blog: We make a choice every day!
Today, having refused to make a choice, we make it anyway.
I make a choice every day to lives side.
I know many people which struggle with death every minute their lives.
Most often we name brave people who are ready to die.
But I name brave people who ready to live.
To live and be happy is a main gift for those who leaves us.
From my old blog: Mumbai terror
I do not know that I can tell. And can I?
I hate words because they can change nothing
I only feel a lot of anger which will leave soon my soul burnt.
My anger is directed on all and on everyone who is involved in acts of terrorism
My mind does not find justifications to murder of innocent people.
My heart accuses politicians of their cowardice and bribability.
In that they search for justifications and rescue to themselves, but not to those people which have entrusted him the lives.
I want to stop everyone who is going to accuse of all the Islam and moslems.
No one confession justify murder.
If few people invest their ideas with the convenient form.
But don't need to judge by the form, what is it in the contents
Condolences and hope
God keep all us.
photo from The Independance resurce
27 nov '08
from my old blog : M&M
Bulgakov is true genius. I recommend to read him and re-read.
Someone speaks about M & M as about the political novel, someone as about satire.
I speak about a story of love.
M & M is one of the finest stories of love created by writers.
Margarita is goddess. Master is man.
Practically, it's Greek story.
M and M is a tremendous literary style, this inexhaustible sense of humour, it is tenderness, passion, a pain, despair, it is hope, and love.
If we speak, that the love will rescue the world, it and about M and M.
To love — means to be able to give.
Love and M & M.
From my old blog: Fencing
Why people prefer to operate behind a back ? Where is the tradition openly to express the ideas and the attitude?
From my old blog: My grandfather liked to write long letters.
The Draft to an epistolary genre at me, apparently, congenital.
My grandfather — the survived horror of concentration camp the person who has given birth to 10 children from three women loved by him (one of them is my grandmother).
He had the lacks and the indisputable advantages.
I cannot understand, when about the person speak in a category «good» - «bad».The person considerably more difficult matter to get it briefly.
My grandfather liked to philosophize, but… Unfortunately, as well as the more part of men, he had two opinions: His opinion and… Wrong opinion
But, with it, my grandfather was perfect charming
I know very good that the centre of gravity in family relations always lays on the woman. And the woman determines what will be her family.
The man brings a tonality in the basic melody.
I know, that modern women protect they independence by all means, frequently losing this independence in war against men.
I know, that many women are frightened to connect their lives with someone because they are frightened of mistakes.
But… I know a story of other relations.
I know a history which began from despair, then have developed into love, passion, then hatred, then again in love, affection, tenderness
I know a history of difficult relations of my grandfather and grandmother.
I know a history of opposition of two persons which did not concede each other
I know a history of two parents which brought up both joint children, and separate children.
My grandfather has died three years ago
And he liked so to receive long letters
23 nov'08
My grandfather — the survived horror of concentration camp the person who has given birth to 10 children from three women loved by him (one of them is my grandmother).
He had the lacks and the indisputable advantages.
I cannot understand, when about the person speak in a category «good» - «bad».The person considerably more difficult matter to get it briefly.
My grandfather liked to philosophize, but… Unfortunately, as well as the more part of men, he had two opinions: His opinion and… Wrong opinion
But, with it, my grandfather was perfect charming
I know very good that the centre of gravity in family relations always lays on the woman. And the woman determines what will be her family.
The man brings a tonality in the basic melody.
I know, that modern women protect they independence by all means, frequently losing this independence in war against men.
I know, that many women are frightened to connect their lives with someone because they are frightened of mistakes.
But… I know a story of other relations.
I know a history which began from despair, then have developed into love, passion, then hatred, then again in love, affection, tenderness
I know a history of difficult relations of my grandfather and grandmother.
I know a history of opposition of two persons which did not concede each other
I know a history of two parents which brought up both joint children, and separate children.
My grandfather has died three years ago
And he liked so to receive long letters
23 nov'08
From my old blog: ICQ
ICQ is great businessTwo persons sitting literally at different sides of the Terrestrial disk, can talk about everything, that will climb up in they crazy heads.
For example, I had conversation with one my friend recently.
Me: Hi, sweet. How are you?
He: I am in hard drinking.
And how I should react to such answer?
Naturally I have taken an interest:
а. What exactly prefer drinking my distant friend when he is in deep hard drinking. This drink was «Whisky». I personally prefer to get drunk «Martini». b. What's up? Clarified, that he was left by his girlfriend. I know this guy a four year. Unfortunately he can be only in two conditions: having constant chaotic sex or be thrown.
I hope only, that the life will present to him one more condition — to be happy.
Have a nice weekend,
A.G.
P.S. I go to my grandma Maria for two days. It's nice place without internet and mobile phones. I like this place.
21 nov'08
For example, I had conversation with one my friend recently.
Me: Hi, sweet. How are you?
He: I am in hard drinking.
And how I should react to such answer?
Naturally I have taken an interest:
а. What exactly prefer drinking my distant friend when he is in deep hard drinking. This drink was «Whisky». I personally prefer to get drunk «Martini». b. What's up? Clarified, that he was left by his girlfriend. I know this guy a four year. Unfortunately he can be only in two conditions: having constant chaotic sex or be thrown.
I hope only, that the life will present to him one more condition — to be happy.
Have a nice weekend,
A.G.
P.S. I go to my grandma Maria for two days. It's nice place without internet and mobile phones. I like this place.
21 nov'08
From my old Blog: Stomatology.
I do not like to visit doctors in general.
For me this is intolerable.
But yesterday I was at the stomatologist.
I am afraid of stomatologists since the childhood.
For me it is modified Frankestaines with a hand drill.
Well, have a nice …
Teeth
20 nov 2008
For me this is intolerable.
But yesterday I was at the stomatologist.
I am afraid of stomatologists since the childhood.
For me it is modified Frankestaines with a hand drill.
Well, have a nice …
Teeth
20 nov 2008
झाँसी की रानी Rani Lakshmi bai of Jhansi
I have learned about this woman accidentally.
Unfortunately, studying of a history of the adjoining states is obligatory neither at schools,or at universities.
I know so a little about this woman, and about that country which has given birth to her.
She shows for me an example of unique courage and internal force, feminity and patriotism.
Many peoples compare her with D'Arc.
But at all respect for the French history and his so great diva, story of Rani is unique.
She has headed army of resistance to the British colonizers in India.
Such life is difficultly to imagine now.
I have 28 years old (not 29, not yet), at this age Rani was born, leave in marriage, to give birth and lose the child, to adopt the boy, to become the widow, remaining mother, to reign, she has organized movement against colonization, and died protecting own native country.
I plan to learn maximum possible about this woman.
I cannot be content with publications of the doubtful contents when the author pursues only one purpose — to be popularity.
I am not the inhabitant of India, and I look at a history of this country from the out side.
And I want to satisfy my interest to Rani absolutely. I think, that this interest for all my life.
I want to learn the person, but not the hero in a political paradigm
I want to learn the woman and mother, but not page of a history
I want to learn the statesman, but not the code of laws and parities
I do not know any language, only Russian.
I study English.
But, if you have the information, references to the authors published works about
Rani Lakshmi bai of Jhansi, let to me know. Please
One more, have a nice night
Unfortunately, studying of a history of the adjoining states is obligatory neither at schools,or at universities.
I know so a little about this woman, and about that country which has given birth to her.
She shows for me an example of unique courage and internal force, feminity and patriotism.
Many peoples compare her with D'Arc.
But at all respect for the French history and his so great diva, story of Rani is unique.
She has headed army of resistance to the British colonizers in India.
Such life is difficultly to imagine now.
I have 28 years old (not 29, not yet), at this age Rani was born, leave in marriage, to give birth and lose the child, to adopt the boy, to become the widow, remaining mother, to reign, she has organized movement against colonization, and died protecting own native country.
I plan to learn maximum possible about this woman.
I cannot be content with publications of the doubtful contents when the author pursues only one purpose — to be popularity.
I am not the inhabitant of India, and I look at a history of this country from the out side.
And I want to satisfy my interest to Rani absolutely. I think, that this interest for all my life.
I want to learn the person, but not the hero in a political paradigm
I want to learn the woman and mother, but not page of a history
I want to learn the statesman, but not the code of laws and parities
I do not know any language, only Russian.
I study English.
But, if you have the information, references to the authors published works about
Rani Lakshmi bai of Jhansi, let to me know. Please
One more, have a nice night
From my old blog:`The God of Small Things`
I select words hard. And each word seems to me insufficient.
Arundhati … she is incredibly talented.
I adore style of her letter.
I have fallen in love absolutely in her novel. And I know, that this feeling is mutual. Because the novel opens to you itself every time when you read it.
Arundhati finds the necessary words by magic way.
She can force us to go through minute, only one minute, and this minute there will be all life.
Have a nice night
19 nov 2008
From my old blog: Weak the man.
 |
| source |
Today, when I drove my car, way to my home, I thought.
You know, I frequently think in car, behind a wheel I think about different things.
It can be something about an accumulator, and weather, and a yellow sheet of an oak on this street.
It can be all about drivers (men and women), it can be something awfully philosophical or on the contrary up to a disgrace simple and privat.
I cannot foresee what sort idea will come to my head in next time.
And my car stood in a jam traffic, somewhere in between 324 and 326, probably.
And monotony of an events has enabled me to reflect. I love to reflect.
And I have thought about why men are weak? And strong man, who is it?
I speak now not about physical strength, I speak about character
Spinelessness is a feature of modern men?
Or spineless people were always and will be always?
Men, please, not take offence at my words.
Theme of my blog is not about all men, but about the some of they.
Well…
Spinelessness is a feature of modern men?
Or spineless were always and will be always?
I think, that weakness is peculiar to men in the greater degree, than to women.
But socially a role of the man is force, a role of the woman is weakness, but I would name it the latent strength.
And I think, the woman makes the man weak or strong. And it's a basis of men's weakness and strength.
Well well It's time for asleep.
I have gone to sleep.
Tomorrow I shall learn streets of my city.
And I want to find an alternative streets for driving.
Have a nice night to all (and for me also)
Grem
From my old blog:Mosque
Mosque.
I saw not much Mosques.
A bit in Turkey, in Kabarda, Daghestan.
But Mosque in Grozny (Chechnya) is very beautiful.
From my old blog: The Pilot
Insomnia, access in the Internet, and a verbal diarrhea.
Recently, I have stated to my friend one my idea that in my next life I want to be the pilot of civil aircraft, a woman — pilot.
This my statement has caused the storm of the protest excited by a unhealthy attack of chauvinism at my friend.
I have listened to a triad about pathological inability of a brain of the woman on decision-making, block of nervous system, and excessive emotionality and bla-bla-bla…
When the attack has receded, I could deny the point of view of my friend.
For example, only in Russia already three women — cosmonauts exists.
In several large cities is avia-academies where a plenty of women is trained enough.
The association of women — pilots is created in USA.
But all of this in next life.
And in this my life I use airplane as passenger.
And I like it so.
Recently I was on business trip in the city Ulyanovsk. It is such small city in 800 kilometers from Moscow.
And in city there is only one airline, with very poetic name «Flight».
Unfortunately, in the this airline only one plane — An-32 (two screws, small-sized).
The delegation of the Japanese experts flied by this plane also.
For travellers in the Russian remote places flight on An-32 is similar to landing to the Moon.
It was amusing experience.
Have a nice night
for all
From my Old blog: THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS KHALED HOSSEINI
I do not know, that I can write about KHALED HOSSEINI. I do not know him personally.
But I can tell, that he is the tremendous author.
I read it in translation, in Russia it is difficult to find books in the original.
I cannot explain magic of his book because literary it is simple.
But you open the book, start to read, and you do not notice how you are came inside a story of a narration so deeply that you feel a smell of a high grass and coldness of water in the river near to Mariam's house . You feel taste of chocolate sweets (an invaluable gift of Mariam's father), feel a speed and a direction of a wind.
You feel a pain and pleasure, hope, run into despair…
I can tell, that never before I was immersed in a story so.
Never before I closed books to take breath.
I can admit, that I have learned much about Afghanistan, about war there, about that what role the USSR has played in lives of Afghanistan (USSR — the country in which I was born and which does not exist any more).
I had many emotional experiences with «A THOUSAND SPLENDID SUNS «- and it is the basic value
Ad note: 13 nov 2008
О пользе молоковозов
Учиться, учиться и ещё раз учиться… Это не приступ меланхолии по советским временам.
Но учиться мне пришлось так много, как никогда до того. И что самое забавное, практически без посторонней помощи.
Приходилось изучать незнакомый город, осваивать профессию, на которую я не училась. Разговаривать с людьми, которых я не знала, но чувствовала их скептицизм в мой адрес. Я училась не показывать себя настоящую.
С тех пор никто не видел Меня, никто не слышал о моих мечтах, о моих страхах, о моих переживаниях. И даже если я эмоционировала – то это все равно была только верхушка горы, часто не дающая объяснений почему.
Итак, моя первая командировка.
Я и Лилия были отправлены в замечательный поселок городского типа Пильна.
По сути и содержанию – это деревня, в которой нет водопровода, нет отопления, и часто нет света.
Это поселок был не то основан, не то переименован самим Петром первым.
Видимо, во избежание нарушения исторической целостности, так сказать, местные власти и не заморачиваются по поводу благоустройства Пильны. Мол, буде как есть, не чаго чаго-то менять.
По дороге в сей замечательный островок российской истории, который нам только предстояло узнать, случился, прямо скажем, казус – от нас уехали все наши документы, деньги и вещи. Автобус, на котором мы добирались до Пильны из Нижнего, уехал без нас.
Как бы вам описать мое состояние? Хм, представьте, что вы выходите на стоянку, где должен быть ваш автобус, а его нет – только елочка от резины колес на снегу. И на улице вроде бы холодно, но вас обдает таким жаром, с головы до пят, словно вы хватанули коньяку грамм триста залпом без закуси, а потом холодом. И как-то сразу так сиротно, без документов-то.
Полагаю, Лилия была в таком же состоянии, что и я, ее–то шмотки тоже укатили.
Вот стояли мы две горе-путешественницы, смотрели друг на друга такими глазами, какими более никогда не смотрели. Шок прошел быстро.
Мы выяснили куда идет автобус, с водителем связался диспетчер, и предупредил, что тот забыл двух пассажиров.
- А когда следующий автобус на Пильну? – поинтересовалась Лилия через небольшое окошечко в металлической двери, за которой сидела диспетчер.
- А кто его знает, может быть часа через четыре придет, если не сломается.
Сердца наши екнули. Нужно было во что бы то ни стало догнать автобус, и ждать следующего было бессмысленно.
Бегом до трассы – километра три-четыре ( без чемоданов это довольно легко, скажу я вам). Мы вспотели, дорога была как-то пустовата, те несколько легковушек, что проехали мимо, даже не думали останавливаться. Прошло полчаса, наверное.
Моя внутренняя злость вскипела во мне так, что я вышла на дорогу, и решила, что либо меня собьют, либо я остановлю попутку. Для того, чтобы повысить интерес водителей попутно едущих, я вынула из кармана тысячерублевую купюру.
- Убери, дура! – услышала я Лилию, - тебя же прибьют за эту штуку!
И что-то в ее голосе было такое, что я сразу спрятала банкноту обратно в карман джинс. И тут из-за поворота выехал красавчик-молоковоз. Ехал неспешно «Веселый молочник», остановился. Подобрал нас, уже порядком замерзших.
Я села ближе к водителю, Лилия ближе к двери.
Разговаривала все больше она, я же убирала коленку от рычага переключателя скоростей, и лелеяла тот момент, когда я проломлю череп водителю автобуса, когда мы их нагоним.
Молочник домчал нас быстро, мы успели согреться. Наш автобус одиноко дымил около автовокзала поселка с красивым названием Княгинино.
Мы выпорхнули из молоковоза – две обозленные нимфы, не заплатив ни копья ( да молочник и не просил), я со злости чуть не проломила двери автобуса.
Настал черед наших попутчиков. И я, и Лилия попытались воззвать к совести тех, кто с нами ехал, но не то они были глухи, не то уже не столько важно это стало для нас, потому что мы вернулись на наши места, к нашим чемоданам, проверили документы и деньги – все было на месте.
Вечером того же дня мы были в Пильне, заблудиться было невозможно: одна площадь, на которой Администрация, Почта, Дет сад, там же гламурное заведение – дискотека в фойе ПТУ, и кафетерий, в котором мы ели.
Есть пока четко работающая примета: если вам необходимо найти здание Администрации района или села или города – знайте, она всегда с тылу у Ленина. То есть за попой у Ильича – Администрация , а прямо по направлению куда указывает рука Вождя – Светлое будущее.
И совершенно неважно, что и оглобли и лошадь сменили, а едем все туда же, и все той же дорогой.
Работали мы в Администрации Пильненского района, в этом же здании, что красовалось с тылу Ильича, располагался финансовый отдел – основной орган местного управления бюджетом.
Их-то мы и автоматизировали, то есть устанавливали новый софт (software).
Вечер, уже темнело. Гостиница не работала, холодюга там стояла несусветная, так что жить было невозможно.
Руководитель финансового отдела договорилась – и нас разместили в детском саду. Было одно условие – уходить нужно было до того как придут дети, то есть до восьми утра.
В детском саду было все так же холодно – местная котельная работала с перебоями, потому везде было холодно, нам выделили масляный нагреватель, который всю ночь пыхтел у наших голов.
Спали мы в детской спальне, на трех кроватях сдвинутых вместе, спали вдвоем, так теплее, на каждую приходилось по три-четыре детских одеяла, вот так вот в куче маленьких покрывал, одеялец, простынок, мы проводили те несколько часов, что удавалось выделить под сон.
И снова я училась… спать по четыре-пять часов, ходить в туалет на унитаз еле торчащий из кафельного пола, присаживаться на который опасно для женского здоровья – ледяной, мыться в тазике тем количеством горячей воды, которую возьмешь с собой, готовить из того, что купили в местном магазине. Помню рис с овощами.
За окном метель вьюжная, снега, а мы за маленькими столиками, на маленьких стульчиках, на которых нарисованы ягодки, буковки – опознавательные знаки для деток, эдакий навигатор позапрошлого поколения, сидим две потерянные в Пильне, и едим радостный завтрак – белоснежный рис с разноцветными овощами. Это был чуть ли не первый раз, когда я выспалась и нормально поела.
И думала ли я, будучи пятилетним ребенком, девчонкой, брезгливо выкладывающей молочную пенку на край тарелки, что спустя каких-то 20-ть лет я буду сидеть на таком же стульчике, за таким же столиком и уплетать приготовленные собственноручно овощи и рис? Не думала.
Прошло 20-ть лет, а меж тем, игрушки были из моего детства: обгрызанные каким-то дитем кубики, на каждой стенке которого животное или иной предмет, название которого начинается с той самой буквы, что нарисована рядом. Телефонные аппараты ни к чему не подключенные, ни с кем неспособные связать, дисковые… Сразу вспоминается анекдот: Звонок телефона, человек поднимает трубку. – Алло? – Алло – слышит он голос на другом конце провода, - это номер 345-555-555? – Да – отвечает он. – Вызовите скорую, у меня палец в диске застрял.
Тогда было не до анекдотов, но причина улыбнуться, поверьте мне, всегда есть . И она у нас была, многократно
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Как все закончилось, или как все начиналось.
Наверное, не стоит говорить о том, где я родилась и выросла, о том каким трудным был путь моего становления, особенно, с учетом того факта, что становление продолжается…
Как выразилась одна моя хорошая подруга: – «Тебя, наверное, зачали в экстремальных условиях».
Я отношу себя к людям изначально беспокойным внутренне, неуверенным в себе и постоянно ищущим чего-то нового, это словно зависимость какая-то, иной вид одержимости – постоянный поиск нового.
Тогда в 2004 году я, определенно, не вдавалась в столь глубокий психоанализ.
Я закончила университет, и работала в «Кадетском корпусе МЧС» как психолог, или если уж быть абсолютно точной – то, как педагог-психолог. Это трудный период, вспоминать о котором трудно и сейчас, но я люблю этот мой год, как и прочие другие, потому что он – часть моей жизни, события, произошедшие со мной, что-то во мне изменили.
Я обожала психологию и работу с детьми, потому что чувствовала, что это – мое. И это было основополагающим для меня до тех пор, пока доза купороса, выдаваемая ежедневно моими соратниками не отравила всю мою действительность.
Помню один из первых рабочих дней, когда один из моих кадет – по глубокому убеждению администрации города – будущее всего МЧС ведомства, а по моему мнению – мальчик с психическими отклонениями генетической этиологии, нуждающийся в особом уходе и наблюдении врачей, а не строевом шаге и физической подготовке к прыжкам с парашютом и прочей экстремальщине, всадил автоматическую ручку в шею своего одноклассника…
Но даже такие случаи как массовые побоища с нанесением друг другу тяжелых телесных повреждений и материального ущерба учебному заведению, курение травы в сортире по ночам и удачные и не очень попытки сексуальных сношений с девицами, постоянно изнывающими у КПП, не идут ни в какое сравнение с тем изяществом, с которым ежедневно милые и заслуженные педагоги доказывали мне мою ничтожность.
И сейчас спустя достаточное время я могу только поблагодарить их за то, что они не стеснялись в демонстрации себя самих и дали мне потрясающую школу с неповторимым набором как человеческих достоинств, так и недостатков.
Прошел почти год, когда дышать дальше я просто не могла, ежедневное насилие над собой довело меня, что называется, до ручки: бессонницы, нервозность, психосоматика в виде крапивницы, и мое первое и пока единственное знакомство с «хлористым».
Я планомерно привела себя саму к мысли, что все обязательно должно измениться, но только понятия не имела как…
Заведение, в котором я работала, за какой-то год перенесло столько всего… К сожалению, здесь я, возможно впервые, наглядно увидела то, насколько гнилая система образования, насколько мелочными и алчными могут быть люди. Это заметнее, когда коллектив небольшой, и когда тебя ни во что не ставят – а значит не стесняются в демонстрациях себя.
К примеру, моя коллега, педагог-психолог, женщина несколько истеричная, но, между тем, прекрасно улавливающая направление ветра.
Невысокого роста, рыжеволосая, веснушчатая, что закономерно становилось более заметным на мартовском солнышке. Она всем и везде доказывала, что является единственной константой морали и истины, что временами, надо сказать, очень даже походило на правду, если учесть, что ее окружало порядка 60-ти несовершеннолетних кадет, за плечами которых смерти их родителей, алкоголизм попечителей, помойки, сточные канавы, недоедания, воровство, насилие; а так же человек 10-ть отставных военных: кто по собственному желанию, кто на пенсии, кого «попросили», и для кого этот «корпус» и вчерашние босоногие пацаны – единственное место работы.
Мы автоматически начали конкурировать, как-то само по себе задалось, покатилось и дошло до абсурда.
Сейчас вспоминать смешно, а тогда было серьезно, где-то даже больно, где-то глупо…
Этот небольшой мирок, обнесенный бетонным забором, приятно соседствующий с конопляным полем и пивоваренным заводом, показал мне множество примеров того, как бывает, отучил существовать только моей собственной правдой.
Правд как-то сразу стало такое множество, что иногда было трудно их разобрать.
К примеру, лоботряс, двоечник, парень 15-ти летка, живущий с отцом-одиночкой, попадает в «Кадетский корпус», где и мест-то всего 60 или около того, на полное государственное обеспечение.
Родитель нарадоваться не может за чадо, присяга – новенькая форма, блестящие пряжки, ботинки, аксель-банты, гимн под знаменем России – у любого пацана сердце зайдется, и грудь начнет дышать эдак шире, по-русски.
Но речи отгремели, парадная форма под замком у старшины, и начинаются рядовые будни, отвоевывание своей зубной пасты и щетки, своей одежды, которую, если прошляпил, или сдрейфил, продадут уже на следующий день прямо за забором «корпуса». И тебе, конечно, найдут другую, но поношенную, ту, что осталась от прошлого курса, и ты – лузер, над котором смеется весь взвод, весь поток, все ребята, и даже педагоги.
И вот лоботряс начинает врать, выкручиваться, либизить и стучать, пытаясь угодить и «нашим» и «вашим». В конец запутавшись, завравшись, он влезает в долги, и его сажают на счетчик. И что остается делать парню? Он бежит, бежит ночью, в зиму, после вечерней поверки, с тем, что сумел урвать из столовой, с тем, что спер у соседа.
Да, его находят, но он снова бежит, и снова… пока его не ставят на отчисление.
И это его правда, и для него единственный выход – уйти.
Но появляется родитель, как он говорит – простой шоферюга, на своих руках выкачавший сына, менявший ему пеленки, какашки убиравший, жизнь положивший на алтарь воспитания чада. И такой удар – отчисляют.
И здесь, чего никогда не ожидала, и впервые видела, слезы сорокалетнего мужика. Отец рыдал, наматывая сопли на собственную мазутную шапку, скрипел зубами и шипел, переходил на вой и даже кидался мне в ноги.
Это было то ещё испытание, скажу я вам.
И это вторая, отцовская правда: он не может выкормить сына, потому что сам алкоголик и перебивается с одной рублевой работы на другую, потом победно спускает все заработанные деньги с друзьями-корешами, и снова в какие-нибудь шофера, сторожа, куда-нибудь, чтобы заработать на водку, он не может выкормить сына.
Он угрожает самоубийством, говорит, что пустит машину под откос, если его сыну не дадут ещё один шанс.
Но когда все инструменты опробованы, и ни один не помогает, бросает уходя: «сука» и хлопает дверью.
Или вот детективная история с незамысловатым сюжетом : «Проломили голову сокурснику табуретом».
Пьяная перепалка кадет, оставшихся на февральские праздники в расположении «корпуса» заканчивается реанимацией для одного бедолаги.
И для всех начинается ад: проверки, объяснительные, опросные листы, коллегии, на которых единственный вопрос: Кого сделать козлом отпущения?
И постоянные мысли о том, выживет ли парень?
И снова система нарисовалась передо мной во всей своей безобразной наготе, которая неспособна вызвать никакого вожделения, если вы, конечно, не мазохист-извращенец.
Одно во всей этой истории радует – парнишка выжил, и вернулся в «корпус».
Я уволилась с Кадетского корпуса – и это день был самым прекрасным тем летом.
Омрачал его тот факт, что я ничего не сказала об этом родителям, а меж тем они вложили огромное количество усилий, чтобы обеспечить меня работой.
Наверное, один из самых больших страхов ребенка – это не оправдать ожиданий родителей.
Наверное, все в совокупности: и моя неуемная страсть к чему-то новому, и «не оправдание» и желание все это изменить - привели меня к мысли, что мне необходимо куда-нибудь уехать.
К тому моменту мои хорошие друзья – Сергей и Лилия, с которыми в настоящее время мы – соседи, уехали из моего родного города.
И я напросилась к моему другу на работу – это был Нижний Новгород, город в двух с половиной сутках езды от родного Кемерово.
Я не знаю, какое помешательство нашло на мою маму, и она позволила мне самой принять решение. И оно было не из легких. Спустя пару недель я купила билет на поезд.
И мы начали отмалчиваться, отмалчивалась я, чтобы не сказать лишнего, отмалчивались родители, чтобы не начать отговаривать меня, потому что все мы понимали, что это трудно, но необходимо.
В День моего отъезда папа оказался самым мудрым из нас, он привез меня к поезду за пару минут до отправления, мы только и успели поставить сумки рядом с моей полкой. Помню, проводница с выпученными глазами стояла за спинами моих родителей и причитала, что поезд уже трогается. По-моему, папа вывел маму из вагона, я старалась не смотреть на родителей, чтобы не показать слез.
Поезд и правда поехал почти сразу, как родители вышли из вагона. Я видела их в мое окно. Был такой тусклый ноябрь, или мне так показалось тогда, что день был кошмарно длинным и серым, даже сейчас все какое-то черно-белое. Честно, хотелось плакать так, как, наверное, никогда больше. И если бы не окружающие меня пассажиры, я бы дала волю эмоциям. Напротив меня сидела женщина лет 55, наверное; она с нескрываемым интересом наблюдала за мной. И это как-то отбило у меня слезу, и я даже где-то возненавидела эту незнакомку за то, что она отобрала у меня право на истерику.
И в голове моей не было ни единой мысли о том, что будет завтра, были мысли о том, чего уже точно не будет. Не будет родительского шебуршания по утрам, когда они собираются на работу, не будет топания кошки по мне с домашним урчанием под ухом, не будет разговоров на кухне о глобальном и личном, не будет друзей, с которыми хорошо и комфортно, не будет всего того, что составляло мое прошлое.
Я не помню, как я доехала, помню, как выходила из вагона – в Нижнем был первый снег, Серега снимал меня на камеру, что-то вроде – эпохальное событие для потомков «Она сделала это».
Мы доехали до дома на машине, меня разместили в зале двухкомнатной квартиры, предупредив, что в этой комнате кроме меня ещё живет один мужик, который сейчас в командировке, но к тому времени как он вернется, в командировке окажусь я, так что беспокоиться мне особенно не о чем.
Я понятия не имела, в чем будет заключаться моя работа, мне было совершенно наплевать на все, что происходило вокруг меня, хотелось просто зарыться с головой под одеяло и не видеть никого, и не слышать никого.
Я впервые засыпала в состоянии абсолютного незнания того, что со мной будет завтра, но я понимала, что истерить – это слишком, в конце-концов, сама выбрала.
Помню, в этот же мой первый день в Нижнем я попробовала суши – это была «Калифорния» – до сих пор люблю эти роллы, и было это в «Этажах». Кто нижегородский скажите «Этажи» ещё «Этажи», или их переименовали? А ещё мы смотрели «Александр» - фильм, который поверг в отчаянный шок моего друга Сергея.
Друзья пытались как-то развеять мои мрачные настроения, которые, я не очень умело скрывала, или не скрывала вовсе.
Тогда я впервые поняла, что потеряла, я потеряла ощущение дома, чувство своего квадрата.
Чужой город, другие улицы, другие люди, запахи, климат, даже ветер – и тот – другой. Засыпая тогда в формально «моей» комнате, на формально «моем» диване я изо всех сил старалась не расклеиться, не сдать назад…
Какая-то злость поселилась во мне, заняв место чего-то теплого, спокойного, и безмятежного. Эта злость свинцом осела на моем сердце, именно эта злость заставляла меня подыматься каждое утро раньше остальных, чтобы не заставить себя ждать, эта злость двигала моими ногами, моими руками, всеми членами меня самоей. Снаружи я была подвижна, иронична, отзывчива, внутри – холодна как никогда. Доведись мне самой заглянуть к себе в гости, туда внутрь, туда, где всем вход воспрещен - замерзла бы .
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