суббота, 01 января 2022
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
(It's still December 31st where I am)
Everything is a blessing in disguise if you only can make it so.
Back in 2019, when I tore my ligament, I was so miserable. I couldn't do what I loved, it wouldn't heal on its own, and – maybe worst of all at the time – I was forced to rely on others. Relying on others is not something I'm particularly good at.
And then the pandemic started.
A year ago now, around this time, I met a wonderful group of people. They live far away, in random parts of the country, but for a year now we've been getting together nearly every Tuesday and Friday to play games. Some of them have become close friends of mine. Had I not gotten injured, I probably wouldn't have gotten into playing silly 2D games (yeah, you guessed it). Had the pandemic not happened, I wouldn't have ended up spending so much time with these people. Some of us went on a trip this past summer, and some I will see for the first time in February. Sometimes blessings await in unexpected places.
Had I not gotten injured, I wouldn't have achieved so much self-discipline. I now have a much healthier routine to prevent my body from going through the same experience again, and it doesn't feel like a burden. It keeps me grounded and sane – and, well, I have abs now!
Had I not gotten injured, I wouldn't have had to make a decision to undergo surgery. Sometimes going against what everyone says is the only way to grow.
Had I not gotten injured, I probably wouldn't have felt such a burning need to seek therapy. Therapy... has helped me a lot.
Had I not gotten injured, I wouldn't be paying so much attention to doing things properly now. It was "do or die" before, and I thought being reckless was the only way to go. That self-preservation is cowardly. That I could take anything. Now I know I can't take anything – nobody can. But I can take a lot. And the better versed you are in the skill of self-preservation, the more, in fact, you can take.
Had I not gotten injured, I wouldn't have grown as a person in the way that I have. I don't regret anything. These experiences have made me who I am today.
For me, 2021 was about... making a comeback. In so many ways. Ah, how I love the good old, totally basic idea of coming back after having been knocked down, and coming back stronger than you were before. Such a staple, but in any media, it always raises goosebumps on my arms. Turns out, it feels good when you actually do it yourself. It's a lot of work. But it's so worth it.
I'm back on the court, by the way. I play so much better now.
There is still a lot of work to be done, but it's great, really. It's not the destination, it's the journey, and all that jazz.
I have made a lot of friends this year.
I feel good, and less afraid to be vulnerable than I have been in a long time.
In 2022, I just want to get a lot of things done. Time to live in the present. I can procrastinate tasks, but I must not procrastinate life. And it's not like flipping a switch on January 1st; In fact, I've already started and I just want to keep the momentum going. Go places, take risks, start new adventures, and not care about what others think. Because who will care about what I think? I have to be the one.
(God do I want to get that tattoo!)
As for the emotional disconnect from last year, well, it stays. I still have trouble processing negative emotions in a timely manner. Throw me into a stressful situation, and I will be perfectly collected and will get myself up and running fast – and then I will break down a day, a week, or even a month later, when it's long over, and I won't even know why. “Do the scary thing first, and get scared later.” But I mean, it's fine. I'm just quirky like that, tee-hee.
Anyways, Happy New Year everyone. Just do what you gotta do and make 2022 whatever you need it to be. Make the most out of it – or don't, because who cares? Make your own fucking rules for what the coming year should look like to you.
Akira out.
I am wide awake
And I'm standing tall
Up against the world
Up against the wall
Between the love and hate
They can hardly wait
To watch the hero fall
You could give me hell
You could give me death
But before I bend
I will have revenge
Fire through my veins
I will fan the flames
Until my dying breath
'Cause I will never go down
Any other way
I will never go down
Any other way
Gasoline pumping through my veins
Dancing on top of the flames
I will never go down
Any other way
Any other way.
вторник, 14 июля 2020
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
I'm breaking my December Diary tradition for the first time since 2016, because something's been on my mind a lot lately. And if you think it's the pandemic, or any of the other biblical prophesies in progress, then you're out of luck. I've been saying it for years that our timeline has been cursed since 2012, so none of this is really news to me personally. I do think about these things quite a bit and act to help as much as I can, but ultimately, I don't want to talk about it more than necessary, because at this point I have very little hope that I can change anything, or that anything might change for the better in general.
However, hope itself is on the agenda for today, along with other... unnecessary feelings.
You see, I started seeing a therapist about a month ago. Not my first time, to be clear; I've seen therapists and even a psychiatrist before, good and bad, for various reasons. But this time, it's a little different. For if in 2012 (ha) you were to mention the name "Akira," people who knew me would immediately think something along the lines of chaotic, dumb... and feeling a lot. Whether I was a good person or a shitty one, the emotional compass within me that I blindly trusted was my defining quality.
But recently, I haven't been feeling much. Or rather, I can't identify my feelings. So I disregard them, in myself and others.
If you know me well enough, and if you at all care, it's not that hard to guess where this is coming from. There are really many layers to this matryoshka. The earliest ones come from my childhood, in which I was constantly emotionally manipulated by my family, and only later realized how traumatic that experience had been. Emotionally driven decision-making wasn't really something valued, or at times even respected, within my friend group as I was growing up, so I conditioned myself to think that I was by default not as good as others. To further feed this mindset, my emotional compass had eventually led me in a terribly wrong direction, which resulted in bitter disappointments and the irreversible shattering of my life-long, character-defining values (to be clear – I don't regret any of it). There is a reason my partner is the least emotional person I know – there is, of course, the aspect of being complimentary, which is great, but there is also the hard-to-swallow truth that emotions make me uncomfortable these days. Maybe they always have, to an extent.
When I got injured last year (almost a year ago now, but feels like much longer than that) and had to drop out of volleyball along with a bunch of other things that made me happy, I almost entirely shut everything out. Aside from enjoying playing with my team, I physically need to exercise to prevent myself from falling back into the pit of depression. It's just the nature of the dopamine and serotonin produced, that's all. I have the Seasonal Affective Disorder so fittingly abbreviated as SAD as well, so surviving the winter proved to be pretty difficult. I knew I had to get through this, and the only way to do that was to focus on the recovery process, on what I had to do. It helped a lot, and I don't regret it, because at the time it was the right and the healthiest thing to do. But looking back on it, there was a lot of repressed anger, which I'm only now starting to understand.
Getting reconnected with what I feel is surprisingly difficult. Last year, I made some good friends – so good, I thought at the time, that they might just restore my faith in humanity. In February, that friend group faced a conflict that would eventually break us apart. I needed to know how I should act, but I had no idea. "Just do what you'd usually do – just do what you feel is right," I thought to myself. But I didn't feel anything, or I couldn't figure out what I felt, so instead I acted the way it made sense to me. Emotions weren't even pushed aside, they were just undefined and thus treated as non-existent, and reason took the wheel. Sure, the people involved were also not terribly mature, but my lack of compassion and absolutely blank brain when it came to "well, what does your soul voice tell you?" didn't help either. I did what made reasonable sense to me, I thought, so it's not my fault. People are just a big disappointment. Nobody can be trusted. Emotions are stupid. Needless to say, it didn't end well for anybody – and at the time, in my mind, it only further solidified the truth already molded by years and years of experience: feelings = bad. Shun them. Fix them. Make them make sense.
And so... here I am today. Things have never been this clear to me, and yet I am so confused when it comes to people and myself. It's like over the years, my personality did a complete 180 and now I understand what it feels like not to be me. I thought it was superior, but it isn't. It's just entirely different, that's all.
"Do you feel hopeful?" – my therapist asked my out of the blue the other day, trying to connect some dots in her notebook on the other side of the screen.
"Definitely not," – I said. – "But it doesn't really bother me, not being hopeful. Hope just doesn't make sense to me."
It turns out I am afraid of feeling vulnerable, so I prefer not to feel at all. And boy does it make sense. So much sense.
To be honest, I don't know how it will go from now on. Maybe this is just my new reality – I'm actually surprisingly fine with it. You can't expect to stay the same person forever after all. Perhaps this shift in my personality is something I can use to my advantage. Or maybe, it's always been there, always been a part of me, repressed and ignored. That's entirely possible too.
Or maybe it's just trauma I need to address. It doesn't feel that way, but then again, you don't always know when you have trauma.
I have a very neutral outlook on this, and I feel at peace. I will just try to do what's best for me. The only difference is that, when I was younger, I knew exactly what it was (or so I thought). But my mental compass is broken now, so I have no sense of direction and need help in that department, which I'm getting. On the bright side, I got something else in return, something new and exciting to explore.
I may not be hopeful, but I think I feel okay.
罪の最後は涙じゃないよ
ずっと苦しく背負ってくんだ
出口見えない感情迷路に
誰を待ってるの?
白いノートに綴ったように
もっと素直に吐き出したいよ
何から
逃れたいんだ
…現実ってやつ?
However, hope itself is on the agenda for today, along with other... unnecessary feelings.
You see, I started seeing a therapist about a month ago. Not my first time, to be clear; I've seen therapists and even a psychiatrist before, good and bad, for various reasons. But this time, it's a little different. For if in 2012 (ha) you were to mention the name "Akira," people who knew me would immediately think something along the lines of chaotic, dumb... and feeling a lot. Whether I was a good person or a shitty one, the emotional compass within me that I blindly trusted was my defining quality.
But recently, I haven't been feeling much. Or rather, I can't identify my feelings. So I disregard them, in myself and others.
If you know me well enough, and if you at all care, it's not that hard to guess where this is coming from. There are really many layers to this matryoshka. The earliest ones come from my childhood, in which I was constantly emotionally manipulated by my family, and only later realized how traumatic that experience had been. Emotionally driven decision-making wasn't really something valued, or at times even respected, within my friend group as I was growing up, so I conditioned myself to think that I was by default not as good as others. To further feed this mindset, my emotional compass had eventually led me in a terribly wrong direction, which resulted in bitter disappointments and the irreversible shattering of my life-long, character-defining values (to be clear – I don't regret any of it). There is a reason my partner is the least emotional person I know – there is, of course, the aspect of being complimentary, which is great, but there is also the hard-to-swallow truth that emotions make me uncomfortable these days. Maybe they always have, to an extent.
When I got injured last year (almost a year ago now, but feels like much longer than that) and had to drop out of volleyball along with a bunch of other things that made me happy, I almost entirely shut everything out. Aside from enjoying playing with my team, I physically need to exercise to prevent myself from falling back into the pit of depression. It's just the nature of the dopamine and serotonin produced, that's all. I have the Seasonal Affective Disorder so fittingly abbreviated as SAD as well, so surviving the winter proved to be pretty difficult. I knew I had to get through this, and the only way to do that was to focus on the recovery process, on what I had to do. It helped a lot, and I don't regret it, because at the time it was the right and the healthiest thing to do. But looking back on it, there was a lot of repressed anger, which I'm only now starting to understand.
Getting reconnected with what I feel is surprisingly difficult. Last year, I made some good friends – so good, I thought at the time, that they might just restore my faith in humanity. In February, that friend group faced a conflict that would eventually break us apart. I needed to know how I should act, but I had no idea. "Just do what you'd usually do – just do what you feel is right," I thought to myself. But I didn't feel anything, or I couldn't figure out what I felt, so instead I acted the way it made sense to me. Emotions weren't even pushed aside, they were just undefined and thus treated as non-existent, and reason took the wheel. Sure, the people involved were also not terribly mature, but my lack of compassion and absolutely blank brain when it came to "well, what does your soul voice tell you?" didn't help either. I did what made reasonable sense to me, I thought, so it's not my fault. People are just a big disappointment. Nobody can be trusted. Emotions are stupid. Needless to say, it didn't end well for anybody – and at the time, in my mind, it only further solidified the truth already molded by years and years of experience: feelings = bad. Shun them. Fix them. Make them make sense.
And so... here I am today. Things have never been this clear to me, and yet I am so confused when it comes to people and myself. It's like over the years, my personality did a complete 180 and now I understand what it feels like not to be me. I thought it was superior, but it isn't. It's just entirely different, that's all.
"Do you feel hopeful?" – my therapist asked my out of the blue the other day, trying to connect some dots in her notebook on the other side of the screen.
"Definitely not," – I said. – "But it doesn't really bother me, not being hopeful. Hope just doesn't make sense to me."
It turns out I am afraid of feeling vulnerable, so I prefer not to feel at all. And boy does it make sense. So much sense.
To be honest, I don't know how it will go from now on. Maybe this is just my new reality – I'm actually surprisingly fine with it. You can't expect to stay the same person forever after all. Perhaps this shift in my personality is something I can use to my advantage. Or maybe, it's always been there, always been a part of me, repressed and ignored. That's entirely possible too.
Or maybe it's just trauma I need to address. It doesn't feel that way, but then again, you don't always know when you have trauma.
I have a very neutral outlook on this, and I feel at peace. I will just try to do what's best for me. The only difference is that, when I was younger, I knew exactly what it was (or so I thought). But my mental compass is broken now, so I have no sense of direction and need help in that department, which I'm getting. On the bright side, I got something else in return, something new and exciting to explore.
I may not be hopeful, but I think I feel okay.
罪の最後は涙じゃないよ
ずっと苦しく背負ってくんだ
出口見えない感情迷路に
誰を待ってるの?
白いノートに綴ったように
もっと素直に吐き出したいよ
何から
逃れたいんだ
…現実ってやつ?
вторник, 31 декабря 2019
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
It's 5:41am, and for the first time in weeks I'm staring at the ceiling perfectly comfortable but unable to sleep – because for the first time in weeks, nothing hurts and it just doesn't feel right.
I figured it's a good enough reason to get up and type out my last entry of the decade.
Honestly, it didn't even hit me that the decade is ending until all the memes hit the fan. I would rather just talk about this year, especially since I have plenty to look back on.
2019 was the year of getting things done, and believe it or not, I fucking delivered:
1. I underwent two surgeries (successfully) and am currently recovering from the second one.
2. I am now a software engineer (well what do you know) with a job I love.
3. I did two cosplays, both ones that I had really wanted to do, and they actually turned out really cool.
4. I chopped off my hair. Again. It felt great. 100% worth it.
5. I made many friends in completely unexpected places.
6. At least one of my parents firmly believes I'm a psychotic time bomb ready to self destruct any second.
No matter how you look at it, it was a great year.
A bunch of things happened in January–November
And then in December, just a couple weeks ago, I underwent a 4-hour surgery. I now have 5 scars and a couple of metal screws in my knee. I was in pain for days straight and couldn't walk, not even get up – nothing at all. The painkillers poisoned my system, and sleeping in the cold downstairs living room caused me to catch bronchitis.
I didn't have to commit to the surgery. In fact, by not giving up on my leg, I was able to recover my range of motion to the point where most people couldn't tell something was wrong with me. But I couldn't run or jump anymore, which would essentially exclude me from doing most of the things I enjoy doing.
So I did what I knew had to be done and what I knew was true to who I am. I may not have been mentally prepared for the trials that would follow, but at this point, I can safely say I got through most of them. Months and months of recovery and hard work are ahead of me still, but I'm fairly excited about that rather than feeling crushed or tired.
Today was my first day without crutches (though still with a metal knee brace). After weeks of sleeping in the cold living room, I was able to climb the stairs and curl up in a warm, comfortable bed. And as I'm trying to fall asleep so not used to actually feeling comfortable after a bunch of hardships, I realize that, no matter how it looks to others, to me, this is pretty significant. Not only have I achieved so much, but in the last hours of the decade, I was able to pick myself up and am now closing the year from a higher point (literally and metaphorically) than where I was yesterday. I have the strength to go on.
So to myself, and to whoever feels like they have accomplished something in 2019, I would like to say: Keep it up, buddy. You're doing great.
Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?
Are you out there on the front lines, or at home keeping score?
Do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate
Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?
I figured it's a good enough reason to get up and type out my last entry of the decade.
Honestly, it didn't even hit me that the decade is ending until all the memes hit the fan. I would rather just talk about this year, especially since I have plenty to look back on.
2019 was the year of getting things done, and believe it or not, I fucking delivered:
1. I underwent two surgeries (successfully) and am currently recovering from the second one.
2. I am now a software engineer (well what do you know) with a job I love.
3. I did two cosplays, both ones that I had really wanted to do, and they actually turned out really cool.
4. I chopped off my hair. Again. It felt great. 100% worth it.
5. I made many friends in completely unexpected places.
6. At least one of my parents firmly believes I'm a psychotic time bomb ready to self destruct any second.
No matter how you look at it, it was a great year.
A bunch of things happened in January–November
And then in December, just a couple weeks ago, I underwent a 4-hour surgery. I now have 5 scars and a couple of metal screws in my knee. I was in pain for days straight and couldn't walk, not even get up – nothing at all. The painkillers poisoned my system, and sleeping in the cold downstairs living room caused me to catch bronchitis.
I didn't have to commit to the surgery. In fact, by not giving up on my leg, I was able to recover my range of motion to the point where most people couldn't tell something was wrong with me. But I couldn't run or jump anymore, which would essentially exclude me from doing most of the things I enjoy doing.
So I did what I knew had to be done and what I knew was true to who I am. I may not have been mentally prepared for the trials that would follow, but at this point, I can safely say I got through most of them. Months and months of recovery and hard work are ahead of me still, but I'm fairly excited about that rather than feeling crushed or tired.
Today was my first day without crutches (though still with a metal knee brace). After weeks of sleeping in the cold living room, I was able to climb the stairs and curl up in a warm, comfortable bed. And as I'm trying to fall asleep so not used to actually feeling comfortable after a bunch of hardships, I realize that, no matter how it looks to others, to me, this is pretty significant. Not only have I achieved so much, but in the last hours of the decade, I was able to pick myself up and am now closing the year from a higher point (literally and metaphorically) than where I was yesterday. I have the strength to go on.
So to myself, and to whoever feels like they have accomplished something in 2019, I would like to say: Keep it up, buddy. You're doing great.
С наступающим/наступившим.
Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?
Are you out there on the front lines, or at home keeping score?
Do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate
Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?
четверг, 19 декабря 2019
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
At times like this, there's only one thing left to do...
Вопрос: Дайри магия?)
| 1. Я здесь! | 3 | (100%) | |
| Всего: | 3 | ||
понедельник, 31 декабря 2018
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
шесть лет назад я собрал чемодан и уехал из дома, и с тех пор со всеми потрохами я переезжал в общей сложности, кажется, одиннадцать раз.
пару лет назад кто-то спросил, что для меня дом. отвечать было необязательно, но я всё равно крепко задумался, потому что не знал, как ответить на этот вопрос. хорошо это или плохо, но в то время дом для меня был там, где был я сам.
в последние часы 2018го я неожиданно понял, что знаю, где для меня теперь дом. возможно, это вскоре изменится, но никто, в общем-то, и не ожидает, что все мы будем всю жизнь жить в одном месте (с одними людьми, в одном состоянии, с одним и тем же осознанием себя... и так далее).
для меня 2018й год был очень классным и событийным, но пожалуй, именно это осознание и стало самой главной его частью.
с наступающим.
четверг, 20 декабря 2018
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
As I hit the volleyball with a swollen, aching hand for at least two hundredth time that evening, exhausted and almost ready to give up, I forget the most important thing about progress.
Progress takes time.
I look at people with the same physical build as mine, I observe them, I take in the smallest moves they make – and I just don't understand why they can stack points on points against the other team with their powerful serves while I can't. I used to think that it's because I'm short, I'm weak, I just can't do it. But I bike up a steep hill every day, I run miles and miles in the summer, and I will bet you a decent amount of money that I can beat you in pushups (maybe even pullups, on a particularly good day). So the explanation "I just physically cannot do it" seems to be a little too easy and not very accurate after all.
In reality, my biggest downfall is simply my impatience.
My self-proclaimed coach tells me I need to nail down my footwork before I should even be allowed to touch the ball, but I step once, twice, and then I'm done, I think I got it. I want, I need to hit the ball across the net and see results – right now. I need immediate validation of my efforts, to see that I've accomplished something already. I'm trying to build the tower of Babel after taking one "Intro to Engineering" course.
But that's the thing with progress. The goddamn thing takes time, and the real skill is to be patient enough to not turn a blind eye on what you have already accomplished, no matter how small.
Six months ago I had so much internal bleeding in my arms from a simple peppering (warm-up drill) session. I could not receive and, for the love of all that is holy, I absolutely could not set. My feet would freeze in place whenever the ball was headed my way and the team was watching me expectedly. No one trusted me to spike.
And look how far we've come from then.
The validation you need is often right there, you just need to remember where to look and at what angle. And always keep in mind that some things need to be taken one step at a time. Today, I put down the ball, face the mirror and try to perfect my footwork. It's boring, but sometimes you just have to do these things.
понедельник, 03 декабря 2018
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
2018 was about pulling myself out of depression.
On the last day of 2017, I pledged to grab what was left of me by the collar and drag myself out of the dark hole I was in – because nobody else could do it. Or because nobody else would.
It was about starting every day by looking in the mirror, at the reflection that made me nauseous with disgust, and saying, "Remember: You are fine. There is no reason to hate yourself." It was about learning that someone will always be there for me and will give me exactly the love and understanding I needed – even if that someone was me myself. Especially that this someone was me – that the support I desperately needed had actually been there all along.
It was about discovering that I don't have to be something I'm not. About stuffing my entire life in a small car in the middle of the night and leaving the place I hated without saying goodbye. About learning to turn my own fear into a tool to make myself stronger. About making friends from all over the world, once again, like in the good old times.
2018 was about laughing one day and suddenly realizing: For the first time in a long while, I don't feel like dying anymore.
The page is about to turn once again, and while it might be too early for another New Year's resolution, I am ready to commit to it. 2019 will be about getting things done, making things happen – and not giving a fuck about what other people think.
There has always been something stopping me from making my life what I wanted it to be. It was my parents when I was a kid. It was my own indecisiveness when I left them. Laziness as I grew older. The paranoia of being judged.
But this year something finally snapped, and now I know that it is time, now. There is a grain of truth in the ridiculous notion that being in our twenties means we are getting old, but the truth is not that we are about to fall apart and life is ending, but that there are things we should be doing but we are not. Being 24 means I am young enough to turn my life around but old enough to not cry over it if I accidentally fuck it up in the process. The worst possible outcome is being twice this age and thinking, "Man, I should've totally done this stupid thing in 2019, but I didn't."
So it's time to contemplate less and do more – and then bravely face whatever consequences I find myself in. After all, 2018 marked the first time I actually went through with my New Year's resolution, and let me tell you, it feels pretty damn nice.
И с приветом, и спасибо всем тем,
Кто мигал дальним светом,
Принимая ответный сигнал этим летом,
И так любит рисковать.
Ртуть упала, и листва за окном шелестеть перестала,
И вдвоём под одним шерстяным одеялом
Остаёмся зимовать.
On the last day of 2017, I pledged to grab what was left of me by the collar and drag myself out of the dark hole I was in – because nobody else could do it. Or because nobody else would.
It was about starting every day by looking in the mirror, at the reflection that made me nauseous with disgust, and saying, "Remember: You are fine. There is no reason to hate yourself." It was about learning that someone will always be there for me and will give me exactly the love and understanding I needed – even if that someone was me myself. Especially that this someone was me – that the support I desperately needed had actually been there all along.
It was about discovering that I don't have to be something I'm not. About stuffing my entire life in a small car in the middle of the night and leaving the place I hated without saying goodbye. About learning to turn my own fear into a tool to make myself stronger. About making friends from all over the world, once again, like in the good old times.
2018 was about laughing one day and suddenly realizing: For the first time in a long while, I don't feel like dying anymore.
The page is about to turn once again, and while it might be too early for another New Year's resolution, I am ready to commit to it. 2019 will be about getting things done, making things happen – and not giving a fuck about what other people think.
There has always been something stopping me from making my life what I wanted it to be. It was my parents when I was a kid. It was my own indecisiveness when I left them. Laziness as I grew older. The paranoia of being judged.
But this year something finally snapped, and now I know that it is time, now. There is a grain of truth in the ridiculous notion that being in our twenties means we are getting old, but the truth is not that we are about to fall apart and life is ending, but that there are things we should be doing but we are not. Being 24 means I am young enough to turn my life around but old enough to not cry over it if I accidentally fuck it up in the process. The worst possible outcome is being twice this age and thinking, "Man, I should've totally done this stupid thing in 2019, but I didn't."
So it's time to contemplate less and do more – and then bravely face whatever consequences I find myself in. After all, 2018 marked the first time I actually went through with my New Year's resolution, and let me tell you, it feels pretty damn nice.
И с приветом, и спасибо всем тем,
Кто мигал дальним светом,
Принимая ответный сигнал этим летом,
И так любит рисковать.
Ртуть упала, и листва за окном шелестеть перестала,
И вдвоём под одним шерстяным одеялом
Остаёмся зимовать.
понедельник, 01 января 2018
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
I am entering this year with a newly discovered sense of self - the self objectively not as great as the one I used to know, but one I am yet to learn how to love. I can’t think of a place more appropriate for this entry than this perishing Diary website that feels like home I no longer have.
In the last hours of 2017, a lot of you are saying thank you to those who have been with them throughout the year. I don’t have many people to thank, because at the time when I was at my lowest, I found myself alone. Worse yet, at times there were people enthusiastically ganging up against me, but no one on my side.
But I thought I was fine. I thought, as long as I have to, I can endure anything.
Until one day, I couldn’t. Suddenly, the realization hit me. “Oh,” I thought. And I stopped trying.
I have always been a little overly dramatic about my own sorrows, but it turned out the strongest feeling of self loathing takes place in silence. In a locked room you can’t find the strength to leave for days. In a public bathroom where you hide for hours to avoid curious stares. In a cold bed you simply can’t get up from.
The real self loathing is the one you can’t even find the energy to tell others about. The one you have to hide to escape the judgement. The one that makes you nauseous just from having to be in one room with your disgusting self.
I hated myself so much I wanted to die. There was no point in anything. No one to help me. No escaping the dull feeling of hopelessness and despair. There was just a lot of useless time. A life I didn’t really need anymore, but the one I was not motivated and fearless enough to end and not selfish enough to attempt to do so.
But after months of quiet self destruction, I don’t hate myself anymore. I don’t know if it’s thanks to effort, chance, or support from the few close people I still have. Maybe it’s everything together. Either way, while I am not exactly a fan of myself, I don’t actively want to isolate myself from people anymore. Compared to the burning, persistent feeling of self hatred, not caring now feels like a huge blessing. Dare I say, I even have a glimmer of hope for myself.
I have learned that I am not the person I believed myself to be. Years of carefully created facade have been ruined, and I am only starting to figure out what I really am now. I’m not great. I don’t have the qualities people like.
I’m not that funny. Not exceptionally smart. My taste isn’t anything close to extraordinary. I don’t like people. I don’t want to like peiple. I have average looks.
I’m generally very average.
But I will learn to love myself. I need to learn to love myself. Even if I don’t know who I am yet, at least I know who I’m not.
I can give myself strength. I can be better. And if I can’t - I’m already alright. I don’t have to punish myself for what I am and what I’m not.
2018 will be better.
С наступившим/наступающим.
So I kept on walking, I started talking with the devil,
And I asked them "what's a life if you live it like you're dead."
He took my soul and he washed it in a whiskey river.
I took his hand, we stood back, and watched the banks turn red.
'Cause I was born to be a sinner, I was born to be free.
I was born to dance on two left feet.
And raised up to be the rebel, I was made with a little bit of fire, you see.
I guess it's always been the devil and me.
In the last hours of 2017, a lot of you are saying thank you to those who have been with them throughout the year. I don’t have many people to thank, because at the time when I was at my lowest, I found myself alone. Worse yet, at times there were people enthusiastically ganging up against me, but no one on my side.
But I thought I was fine. I thought, as long as I have to, I can endure anything.
Until one day, I couldn’t. Suddenly, the realization hit me. “Oh,” I thought. And I stopped trying.
I have always been a little overly dramatic about my own sorrows, but it turned out the strongest feeling of self loathing takes place in silence. In a locked room you can’t find the strength to leave for days. In a public bathroom where you hide for hours to avoid curious stares. In a cold bed you simply can’t get up from.
The real self loathing is the one you can’t even find the energy to tell others about. The one you have to hide to escape the judgement. The one that makes you nauseous just from having to be in one room with your disgusting self.
I hated myself so much I wanted to die. There was no point in anything. No one to help me. No escaping the dull feeling of hopelessness and despair. There was just a lot of useless time. A life I didn’t really need anymore, but the one I was not motivated and fearless enough to end and not selfish enough to attempt to do so.
But after months of quiet self destruction, I don’t hate myself anymore. I don’t know if it’s thanks to effort, chance, or support from the few close people I still have. Maybe it’s everything together. Either way, while I am not exactly a fan of myself, I don’t actively want to isolate myself from people anymore. Compared to the burning, persistent feeling of self hatred, not caring now feels like a huge blessing. Dare I say, I even have a glimmer of hope for myself.
I have learned that I am not the person I believed myself to be. Years of carefully created facade have been ruined, and I am only starting to figure out what I really am now. I’m not great. I don’t have the qualities people like.
I’m not that funny. Not exceptionally smart. My taste isn’t anything close to extraordinary. I don’t like people. I don’t want to like peiple. I have average looks.
I’m generally very average.
But I will learn to love myself. I need to learn to love myself. Even if I don’t know who I am yet, at least I know who I’m not.
I can give myself strength. I can be better. And if I can’t - I’m already alright. I don’t have to punish myself for what I am and what I’m not.
2018 will be better.
С наступившим/наступающим.
So I kept on walking, I started talking with the devil,
And I asked them "what's a life if you live it like you're dead."
He took my soul and he washed it in a whiskey river.
I took his hand, we stood back, and watched the banks turn red.
'Cause I was born to be a sinner, I was born to be free.
I was born to dance on two left feet.
And raised up to be the rebel, I was made with a little bit of fire, you see.
I guess it's always been the devil and me.
пятница, 13 мая 2016
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
I was once on a trip with a friend. We just finished exploring yet another historical site and decided to take a break and chill on one of the park benches. Then my friend went to the restroom and I just sat there waiting and enjoying the sun.
"I was thinking just now," my friend said sitting down next to me, "during the five minutes I was in the bathroom, what if a stranger appeared out of nowhere and told you they're from a parallel world... and they need you to come with them to that world to save it, right now. Because it's falling apart and, they tell you, you're the only person who can save it. What would you do? Would you go?"
At that moment in time, I had everything I needed to be happy. Not just that, I had everything I wanted. And even something I wouldn't dare to want.
I didn't ask for any details about the potential parallel world situation. I didn't take a minute to answer the question. The answer seemed pretty obvious to me.
I've changed a lot since then. I've lost some of the things that made me happy at the time. I've lost parts of myself, too. So many that I sometimes forger what I am, to be honest.
But then, when I think that I've lost sight of who I am completely, I remember the question. What would I do now, I think? How would I react to a nonexistent stranger's offer?
And no matter how much time passes, the answer is always the same.
"I was thinking just now," my friend said sitting down next to me, "during the five minutes I was in the bathroom, what if a stranger appeared out of nowhere and told you they're from a parallel world... and they need you to come with them to that world to save it, right now. Because it's falling apart and, they tell you, you're the only person who can save it. What would you do? Would you go?"
At that moment in time, I had everything I needed to be happy. Not just that, I had everything I wanted. And even something I wouldn't dare to want.
I didn't ask for any details about the potential parallel world situation. I didn't take a minute to answer the question. The answer seemed pretty obvious to me.
I've changed a lot since then. I've lost some of the things that made me happy at the time. I've lost parts of myself, too. So many that I sometimes forger what I am, to be honest.
But then, when I think that I've lost sight of who I am completely, I remember the question. What would I do now, I think? How would I react to a nonexistent stranger's offer?
And no matter how much time passes, the answer is always the same.
вторник, 03 мая 2016
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
Today was my last day as an undergraduate student. It was... chill.
It's been four years -- and it's been an entire life. This place has truly become home to me. But now it's almost time to leave it behind and keep going, just like four years ago I left my other home and came here. But unlike four years ago, I have no hard feelings about leaving, and it's certainly not because I love this place any less, oh no. I just know I will see these people again. Or maybe not. It doesn't matter. Wherever I end up, I will always know there's a piece of home anywhere I go, because, even though we will all part ways in twenty days, a net of connections uniting us will remain forever. Unseen, often unspoken, but tight. It will be there, and that's all we need.
I have no hard feelings about leaving, because I will take the memories of this place with me. In vivid pictures filling the treasure chest in the back of my mind, I remember road trips, deep talks until dawn, performances we worked on together, assignments we didn't know how to do, people we liked and people that liked us, trying new things for the first time, lots of mistakes... And tears. I remember being heartbroken and knowing that it was for the best. Piecing my heart together again, but forming a different, more stable shape out of broken pieces. Filling the emptiness in it with new emotions, desires, goals, and connections. I remember becoming someone else.
I have no hard feelings about leaving, because I'm not the person I was four years ago -- close-minded, scared, stuck in the past. Any change is good, as long as you can make it good. Morimi Saki dragging a suitcase in my profile picture here in this blog describes me well: So far, my life has been the one of leaving. But when leaving something behind, it is important not to reject it. Yes, it happened. Yes, you were that person. Yes, some things can never be changed. But you must accept them as they are, accept the you you were at any given point of your life, and accept all the events you've lived as part of your story. Because you're only getting one. And because whatever happened and whatever your priorities were, at some point, it was really important to you.
This place and this time have taught me a lot, and looking back now, I don't regret anything. Because, as my friend keeps repeating every time I want to feel sad, there is no point in regretting.
It has been fun. It has been painful. Scary. Nostalgic. Weird. Uncertain. New. Happy. Interesting. As interesting as it can get. And it's simply time for another chapter now.
I will keep a couple psyche locks in my heart, but the keys to them have been long gone -- along with people who could be interested in breaking them in the first place.
And home... Well. To answer the question, I feel like the whole world is home to me. Or I, myself, am home. Because wherever I go, I feel home. Honestly.
Happy last day of classes to me.
It's been four years -- and it's been an entire life. This place has truly become home to me. But now it's almost time to leave it behind and keep going, just like four years ago I left my other home and came here. But unlike four years ago, I have no hard feelings about leaving, and it's certainly not because I love this place any less, oh no. I just know I will see these people again. Or maybe not. It doesn't matter. Wherever I end up, I will always know there's a piece of home anywhere I go, because, even though we will all part ways in twenty days, a net of connections uniting us will remain forever. Unseen, often unspoken, but tight. It will be there, and that's all we need.
I have no hard feelings about leaving, because I will take the memories of this place with me. In vivid pictures filling the treasure chest in the back of my mind, I remember road trips, deep talks until dawn, performances we worked on together, assignments we didn't know how to do, people we liked and people that liked us, trying new things for the first time, lots of mistakes... And tears. I remember being heartbroken and knowing that it was for the best. Piecing my heart together again, but forming a different, more stable shape out of broken pieces. Filling the emptiness in it with new emotions, desires, goals, and connections. I remember becoming someone else.
I have no hard feelings about leaving, because I'm not the person I was four years ago -- close-minded, scared, stuck in the past. Any change is good, as long as you can make it good. Morimi Saki dragging a suitcase in my profile picture here in this blog describes me well: So far, my life has been the one of leaving. But when leaving something behind, it is important not to reject it. Yes, it happened. Yes, you were that person. Yes, some things can never be changed. But you must accept them as they are, accept the you you were at any given point of your life, and accept all the events you've lived as part of your story. Because you're only getting one. And because whatever happened and whatever your priorities were, at some point, it was really important to you.
This place and this time have taught me a lot, and looking back now, I don't regret anything. Because, as my friend keeps repeating every time I want to feel sad, there is no point in regretting.
It has been fun. It has been painful. Scary. Nostalgic. Weird. Uncertain. New. Happy. Interesting. As interesting as it can get. And it's simply time for another chapter now.
I will keep a couple psyche locks in my heart, but the keys to them have been long gone -- along with people who could be interested in breaking them in the first place.
And home... Well. To answer the question, I feel like the whole world is home to me. Or I, myself, am home. Because wherever I go, I feel home. Honestly.
Happy last day of classes to me.
четверг, 11 июня 2015
01:08
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если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
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среда, 11 февраля 2015
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
кто-нибудь хочет послушать о моих приключениях? ну типа о том, как передо мной вулканы извергаются, или как я делю комнату с десятком незнакомых людей, или как я выиграл три пакета игрушек в развлекательном центре, или как случайно укатил в Осаку средь бела дня... кому-нибудь интересно?
а то я могу запилить, здесь или еще где.
а то я могу запилить, здесь или еще где.
среда, 28 января 2015
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
мне 20, и у меня есть все.
но иногда мне кажется, что чего-то не хватает.
но иногда мне кажется, что чего-то не хватает.
вторник, 02 декабря 2014
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
в субботу я ввязался в аргументированный спор с человеком, которого всегда ценил за многое, в том числе - за объективность и последовательность суждений.
я выиграл спор и был горд собой... первые несколько минут.
мой оппонент признал свое поражение, и я все еще был горд собой. мой оппонент, проанализировав свою жизненную позицию с новой открывшейся ему точки зрения, усомнился в своей объективности, и сначала я не придал этому значения. мой оппонент пришел к выводу, что то, что он делал до этого момента, на самом деле никогда не имело смысла, и я начал паниковать. мой оппонент разочаровался в себе как в личности. я наблюдал, как за несколько минут мой оппонент, всегда веривший в правильность своих суждений и поступков, достиг точки полнейшего отчаяния, потерял веру в себя, в окружающих и в то, как, он был убежден, устроен мир.
я не обладаю такой объективностью, как некоторые, но я всегда уважал мировоззрение и поступки моего оппонента. более того, своими поступками и мировоззрением мой оппонент всегда меня сильно вдохновлял.
и вот этот человек чувствовал себя так, словно все они - ничто. потому что я убедил его в этом. и разубедить его я больше никак не мог, потому что все, чем я орудовал, была логика.
в субботу я победил в аргументированном споре - сумел сделать что-то, в чем я, как мне казалось, не очень-то силен, - и это была худшая победа в моей жизни.
и неожиданно я понял нечто абсолютно новое - в корне отличающееся от того, во что я верил еще не так давно.
я выиграл спор и был горд собой... первые несколько минут.
мой оппонент признал свое поражение, и я все еще был горд собой. мой оппонент, проанализировав свою жизненную позицию с новой открывшейся ему точки зрения, усомнился в своей объективности, и сначала я не придал этому значения. мой оппонент пришел к выводу, что то, что он делал до этого момента, на самом деле никогда не имело смысла, и я начал паниковать. мой оппонент разочаровался в себе как в личности. я наблюдал, как за несколько минут мой оппонент, всегда веривший в правильность своих суждений и поступков, достиг точки полнейшего отчаяния, потерял веру в себя, в окружающих и в то, как, он был убежден, устроен мир.
я не обладаю такой объективностью, как некоторые, но я всегда уважал мировоззрение и поступки моего оппонента. более того, своими поступками и мировоззрением мой оппонент всегда меня сильно вдохновлял.
и вот этот человек чувствовал себя так, словно все они - ничто. потому что я убедил его в этом. и разубедить его я больше никак не мог, потому что все, чем я орудовал, была логика.
в субботу я победил в аргументированном споре - сумел сделать что-то, в чем я, как мне казалось, не очень-то силен, - и это была худшая победа в моей жизни.
и неожиданно я понял нечто абсолютно новое - в корне отличающееся от того, во что я верил еще не так давно.
воскресенье, 15 июня 2014
04:13
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если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
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понедельник, 05 мая 2014
08:08
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воскресенье, 27 апреля 2014
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
за почти двадцать лет моей жизни в нежных чувствах мне признавались то ли три раза, то ли пять (я так и не понял, лол).
о чем конкретно говорит тот факт, что два из них были в этом месяце, я не уверен. возможно, о том, что я лучше становлюсь. меняюсь.
воскресенье, 16 марта 2014
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
"больше никогда!"
...так говорил я раньше, гордо скрещивая руки на груди, хлопая дверью кафе или отказываясь возвращаться домой после очередного побега. что конкретно я больше никогда, зависело от ситуации и разнилось от "не пойду в парикмахерскую" до "не буду говорить с братом".
мое "никогда" всегда было громким. в него не верил никто, включая меня самого, и оно длилось от получаса до полугода. в душе, причем даже не в самой ее глубине, я знал, что ни моей злости, ни моего отчаяния не хватит надолго, что я быстро остыну, успокоюсь и забуду о том, что доставило мне столько боли. я отложу перемены на потом и продолжу плыть по топящему меня течению.
однажды я перестал произносить свое "никогда" вслух. никто не заметил маленькой перемены.
упрямо скрещенные руки сменились спокойной улыбкой, хлопающая дверь - решением не соглашаться на встречу в кафе изначально, а нежелание возвращаться домой заставило задуматься, то ли место я называю своим домом. если тебе плохо дома - это не дом.
отказ от громких заявлений сделал мои чувства сильнее, действия решительнее, а меня самого - свободнее. и, возможно, чуточку холоднее.
когда ты надрываешь связки и давишься слезами, раз за разом произнося свое "никогда", на самом деле, ты надеешься, что кто-то переубедит тебя, что кто-то тебя остановит.
когда что-то тихо щелкает в твоей голове и ты решаешь больше никогда не возвращаться/не верить/не говорить/не делать, не привлекая к этому решению внимания, ты просто... ты просто незаметно стираешь какую-то деталь своей жизни. деталь, возможно, неплохую, но по каким-то причинам не вписывающуюся в общую картину.
это страшно, потому что никто тебя не остановит. никто не узнает о чем-то глобальном, что произошло прямо на их глазах. а если кому-то потребуется тебя остановить - будет уже поздно.
и все же я думаю, что это правильно, потому что это делает тебя сильнее и независимее.
...так говорил я раньше, гордо скрещивая руки на груди, хлопая дверью кафе или отказываясь возвращаться домой после очередного побега. что конкретно я больше никогда, зависело от ситуации и разнилось от "не пойду в парикмахерскую" до "не буду говорить с братом".
мое "никогда" всегда было громким. в него не верил никто, включая меня самого, и оно длилось от получаса до полугода. в душе, причем даже не в самой ее глубине, я знал, что ни моей злости, ни моего отчаяния не хватит надолго, что я быстро остыну, успокоюсь и забуду о том, что доставило мне столько боли. я отложу перемены на потом и продолжу плыть по топящему меня течению.
однажды я перестал произносить свое "никогда" вслух. никто не заметил маленькой перемены.
упрямо скрещенные руки сменились спокойной улыбкой, хлопающая дверь - решением не соглашаться на встречу в кафе изначально, а нежелание возвращаться домой заставило задуматься, то ли место я называю своим домом. если тебе плохо дома - это не дом.
отказ от громких заявлений сделал мои чувства сильнее, действия решительнее, а меня самого - свободнее. и, возможно, чуточку холоднее.
когда ты надрываешь связки и давишься слезами, раз за разом произнося свое "никогда", на самом деле, ты надеешься, что кто-то переубедит тебя, что кто-то тебя остановит.
когда что-то тихо щелкает в твоей голове и ты решаешь больше никогда не возвращаться/не верить/не говорить/не делать, не привлекая к этому решению внимания, ты просто... ты просто незаметно стираешь какую-то деталь своей жизни. деталь, возможно, неплохую, но по каким-то причинам не вписывающуюся в общую картину.
это страшно, потому что никто тебя не остановит. никто не узнает о чем-то глобальном, что произошло прямо на их глазах. а если кому-то потребуется тебя остановить - будет уже поздно.
и все же я думаю, что это правильно, потому что это делает тебя сильнее и независимее.
понедельник, 24 февраля 2014
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
котаны, я всех люблю, но меня затянул реал
вернусь потом, вы только очень ждите
вернусь потом, вы только очень ждите
понедельник, 17 февраля 2014
если боишься - не делай, а если делаешь - не бойся.
в пятницу я собрал рюкзак, сел в автобус и уехал. я даже не знал, куда конкретно.
прошло меньше двух суток, а мне кажется, словно как минимум неделя. ни в одном языке не найдется подходящих слов, чтобы рассказать о моих впечатлениях. и самое интересное, что я и не хочу рассказывать.
я просто не помню, когда в последний раз я чувствовал себя таким счастливым.
я уезжал одним человеком, а вернулся, в общем-то, все тем же, но уже совершенно другим.
прошло меньше двух суток, а мне кажется, словно как минимум неделя. ни в одном языке не найдется подходящих слов, чтобы рассказать о моих впечатлениях. и самое интересное, что я и не хочу рассказывать.
я просто не помню, когда в последний раз я чувствовал себя таким счастливым.
я уезжал одним человеком, а вернулся, в общем-то, все тем же, но уже совершенно другим.