I probably shouldn’t read back over my own writing, because all I do is criticize myself for being immature/an idiot/a big baby. And of course, I’m already reading over my August 29 blog and kicking myself for being so overcome with grief. Needless to say, I’m not crying my eyes out anymore. I would describe my mood as more of a “meh”. But you know, I think that’s the sound that best describes Russia. Like you’d rather just stay awake under the covers in bed all day instead of bothering to get up.
So it turns out the metro stop Universityet (that’s my metro stop) is exactly a mile away from the dorm. You know, I’m no mathematician, nor am I a lazy effing slob, but damn that’s a long way to walk everyday, sometimes more than once. It’s like old people always say, “Back in my day, I had to walk to school 15 miles uphill both ways.” It’s not quite as drastic here, but I feel that a mile walk is quite far, at least that’s what my feet tell me after I’ve walked to the metro and back, in addition to walking other places. And I haven’t even built up the guts yet to bust out the high heels. Moscow is a big motherf@#$er, so walking is the most practical mode of transportation after the metro. I don’t know how those Russian women do it in high heels. And we’re talking 5-inch stilettos, not those practical, professional Amish-looking get-ups.
Completely changing gears here, my Moscow soundtrack so far has been a mixture of Incubus (for when I’m feeling nostalgic/hopeful/sorry for myself), Radiohead (for when I’m feeling hopeless/depressed/angsty/“eff you”), La Roux (for when I’m feeling rebellious), Coldplay (for when I’m feeling nostalgic/depressed but with a tinge of hope), and the song “Boys of Summer” by Don Henley (for when I’m feeling extra nostalgic/sorry for myself). Listen, I realize that my musical tastes are not commendable or “cool”. In fact, I am well aware that they are what you might call lame. But what the f@#$ ever, man. Happy music and party music are not appropriate for Russia anyway. And I’m no musical elitist. I don’t listen to obscure bands like Arcade Fire (apparently they’re famous now, but I still don’t know who the eff they are, so in my book that means they’re obscure). Anyway, you’ll notice a trend in my musical selection: nostalgia and self-pity. Guess what I just discovered, world? That I am just a big bag of nostalgic, self-pitying bones and flesh. Wow. Once you discover what you really are, you can really take on the world…
What I like about Radiohead is that it taps into the entire spectrum of depression. Because there isn’t just one kind of depression, folks. There’s hopeless depression, depression with a tinge of hope, self-indulgent depression, empty depression, nostalgic depression, the depression of unrequited love, the depression of break-ups, non-love-related depression, depression brought on by social alienation (which I am experiencing now due to my miserable handle on the Russian language). That is just the tip of the ice berg.
The Russian repairmen came today to fix our leaky toilet and faucet. I’m probably the only person who would think of this, but I realized that they are old enough to have lived during the Brezhnev era (1960s-1970s). Isn’t that cool? And one of them is old enough to have lived during the Khrushchev era (1955-1964, I think). I get very excited about relics from the Soviet past. And the dezhurnaya (the “dorm mother”, who has a desk near the elevator and takes care of all our needs) is probably 60-something, so she must have lived during the Khrushchev and Brezhnev era too. Like anybody reading this would give a shit.
Today was my first day of Russian class. As is standard for me, I didn't catch my professor's name, so now I am going to have to find the least awkward way possible to find out what it actually is. Don't you hate when you meet someone, forget their name, don't say anything, and then when it becomes absolutely necessary to use their name it's impossible to find out without being completely awkward? Gah. Anyway, my professor seems pretty nice. She understands my reluctance to speak Russian in public for fear of people thinking I'm stupid, and she encouraged me to be unafraid to make mistakes. The only problem was that she was very, very eager to enumerate the reasons America is a shitty place. I'm no die-hard patriot, but it got a bit wearisome after awhile. Just in case you're interested, here's her list of why America sucks (translated from the Russian and paraphrased, of course):
1. Americans have it too easy. We hardly ever walk anywhere and we eat too much fast food.
2. Americans are taking over the world. Russian culture has changed since the fall of communism and is becoming more Americanized.
3. Americans feel too good about themselves. We are raised to love ourselves too much, and we put on fake smiles in public in order to conceal our problems. We all think we are "number one". In Russia people accept the truth about themselves. If they f@#$ up, they acknowledge it.
4. Americans are not generous. If you are a Russian in America and walk everywhere instead of driving, people think you are crazy, but they don't offer to give you a ride.
5. Americans have too much money.
6. American universities suck. In Russia you have to choose your major and study nothing but that topic for 5 years. American universities let you study lots of different subjects at once, that is, they are playgrounds for young adults.
Obviously I think all of these are silly reasons to hate America. Most of them are things I like about America. If you're going to hate America, hate it for the right reasons, foo.
I have really written way too much today. I just have so goddamn much to say. But I'm going to cut this off and wait till next time to continue bitching and moaning. Until next time, just in case anyone is actually reading this!
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