WEEK NINE.

3 Jan 2018

I hate everything about this. These hours that I am not used to spending on writing, or on anything else that requires focus for that matter, I am not feeling content in any way with spending these precious hours in the quiet (I can only focus when everything around me is dead-silent) when I know that my parents, whom I seldom get to see, are out somewhere for a coffee and chill. I hate prioritising writing over meeting up with the very few friends I actually have, I hate writing instead of sitting in front of the TV deep-diving into the Russian music channel that ordinarily I have on day and night because yes, I might be obsessed. I refuse to not have time for the cinema.

The writing together with the piano practice (which, by the way, I am not getting any better at and am massively struggling and can’t understand why I keep practicing and wasting these hours) mean that my days are basically me at home, f-cking up my back. Have I mentioned I hate everything about this life adjustment? I demand freedom!

It doesn’t help that my apartment has no wi-fi, therefore, no internet access at most of the given time and I have to keep running to my parents’ if there’s research that needs to be done, or to catch up on the news, or, obviously, to post on the blog. Uncool. And I think this contributes to my frustration – not so much because life with no readily-available internet is unbearable (it is!) but also because this running in and out of the house for a few minutes here, half an hour there f-cks up the continuity of the day that is barely structured as is. Which is another weird thing: I keep pre-writing post after post so that I could have enough material to just roll it through every morning and still, there’s ALWAYS a piece missing. How does that even make sense?

I am writing this on New Year’s Eve. I don’t party and I don’t go out on NYE, but there is a tradition I love and follow. On the 31st of December, year after year, without fail, the entire country turns their TVs on to watch everyone’s favourite NYE film The Irony Of Fate. Children and adults alike adore this. Children and adults alike know that traditions are very hard to go against or to break – it FEELS WRONG. And I for sure am feeling very wrong that I am in the process of typing this instead of going to me parent’s place and joining them in front of the TV, like the Slav that I am. The struggle is f-cking real.

And yet. AND YET. All the long-lasting, successful blogs are being updated like it’s business as usual throughout the holidays. I know some of the bloggers are typing from their beach chaise lounges, no amount of FOMO on holiday is bothering them. Blog first, paly second. THIS is the grit that I keep mentioning I lack, this is the work porn that turns me on so much – because, in the case with moi, I can’t believe this is achievable.

The FOMO during holidays is bothering me though, I tell you that much. I have also realised that my Creative Writing piece is due this Monday, the day after we arrive back home, and, hello, it is not ready. So just as I thought all my posts had been sorted and all I will need is to go to my parents’ every morning and post them, this shows up and f-cks me. It’s good thing I love writing so much, which, by the looks of it, doesn’t mean I’ll never quit, but it means that otherwise I would have quite it already.

Right. Well. That’s the word count for this post. I am throwing on my fake fur hat and ugg boots and darting off to my parents’, there’s still time to share the evening, and the movie, with them, Slav-style! Sofia is spending the night with me today and tomorrow, in the morning of the 1st of January 2018, we are going to wake up and, since I am a good girl and had pre-written tomorrow’s posts, will walk towards the Red Square and get an impossible rare glimpse of the ghost version of Moscow, one with no people, no movement, no sound. After that, it’s back to they keyboard.