Миражи
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
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Slow Loris
First of all take a good few minutes getting the cuteness of this out of the way:
http://www.youtube .com/watc h?v=rLdQ3 UhLoD4
http://www.youtube .com/watc h?v=_SNE2 MYAotU
The squealing, arm flailing, and other general fangirl/boy-ing out of the way we'll get down to business.
After I calmed down from watching the videos (still can't get over the cuteness) I started thinking why in the world something so simple as a wee little fuzzy thing enjoying being tickled made me so darned happy. I mean giddy, jumping up and down, dancing around and squealingly happy.
Is it that she's just so fuzzy and adorable? I think not (though I am a huge fan of the fuzzy and adorable genre). Is it that I've never seen one? That the owners are being so gentle and loving? Getting warmer I believe. To tell the truth, the epiphany came when I commented on how "blissfully happy" she is.
From something so simple as the touch of her owners hand, her mommy I assume, this little creature gets such profound, simple, complete joy. I am in love. Lorises are beautiful, simple, good. Perhaps we would be wise to learn from them to take pleasure in from the little things, because, the way I see it, these are the moments that matter, the moments we remember.
Thoughts? Please let me know.
Friday, 29 May 2009
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All Growed Up
As far as I am aware my memories start around age three or four and one of my first most distinct memories is a very serious talk I had with my mother. I guess this was around age five when the full horror of growing up dawned on me. Now, this had nothing to do with school (in Russia you start at seven) nor with any other grand life-changing events. It was naught but a realization that growing up in no way appealed to me.
In my talk with Mama I told her how worried I was about growing up and that I didn't want the responsibilities. I also thought of all that I knew moving perpetually closer to a close; in other words from before I was 4 foot tall I have been thinking about how sad it would make me to lose my grandparents, then my parents, my sister, friends, and eventually leave the world myself. Now that I look at it I think I've never been afraid of death itself, but rather afraid of losing what I love.
Of course my mom tried to comfort me by saying that each stage of life brought with it something wonderful and new and different-- independence, new friends, new knowledge, a family-- but that also was the day that my mommy failed to dispel my doubts and worries completely (though as always she did make me feel better).
Now, some twelve years later, I sit here feeling old and sad to be finished with school. Just as my five-year old self had predicted I don't want the responsibilities nor the age and experience. Even despite the fact that I am enjoying my newfound independence and look forward to starting my own family I don't want things to change. I realize that the new experiences may be good, better than the old even, but every time that it comes time to close a chapter of my life I try to hold on as long as I can knowing that I haven't done all I could do. I haven't lived to the fullest, I haven't made my life in those years worthwhile, I haven't done all I could do.
So I continue on, always looking back, missing out on the moments I could still fulfill. Yet, I don't know how to live to the fullest, and can we ever really do that? Fulfilling aspects of life tends to be mutually exclusive- family or career, academics or partying, extracurriculars or friends. But should we begin to lead a balanced life we see that we're failing to excel at anything at all. Could this be where religion fills in the gap?
Regardless, hindsight really is 20/20 but sometimes I wish it was blind.
Monday, 18 May 2009
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Birthday Wishes
For the first time ever I've decided to make a list of things I want for my birthday (even though historically I've been very open about presents). So, in no particular order
Money for a laptop for college
A Clockwork Orange
Welcome to the Monkeyhouse
Breakfast of Champions
Brave New World
Any Hemingway book besides The Sun Also Rises
J. Crew Necklace
J. Crew Scarf
Anthropologie gift card
iPod nano- in blue, green, yellow, or orange
Eau de Sisley Trio
Coach Wallet- Madison small wallet
Sunday, 17 May 2009
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Someone to Watch the Sunset With
When I was little I used to hate watching the news, but somehow I always ended up planted amongst my parents and grandparents with the evening news on TV. I didn't care for politics, save the politicians with funny names, and didn't understand the economy. The weather made no difference as I wouldn't be dressing myself the next morning. My squirmy little self couldn't even sit through the arts news. The only exciting thing about the news, the one for which I sat through all the meaningless, boring reports, the one I desperately hoped and even prayed would come that particular night, was news of exciting death-- and lots of it. Earthquakes, floods, bomb threats, plane crashes and especially involving kids. It wasn't the death that excited me so much as the way it came and the energy and change which it brought,
The past few summers my reaction to news of this sort has become more socially acceptable. The proper amount of horrified disbelief and regret for loss of life. Yet, I continue to marvel, in my quiet terror, at a human's ability to take life, at nature's seemingly constant pursuit of destruction, and at lives terminated before we've had the chance to acknowledge that they had begun. Inevitably news such as this depresses me.
Tonight, however, I selfishly lament a different topic. Slightly ashamed by my considering it, I can't help feeling sad. I wish I could go back to my toddler self, to the time when politics, money and weather didn't matter to me. I wish I didn't want to know where the cold-front went or when the sun set. Of course I want to be carefree. But in truth I hope for something entirely different.
I wish I had someone to watch the sunset with.
Saturday, 18 April 2009
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What about Self?
Perhaps the most confusing and unedited representation of my thought process to ever make it out of the chaos of my mind
In Russian we have a saying, which I actually think is universal but I know the Russian version, “If you don’t reward yourself, no one will.”
From what I’ve observed in my short 17 years on the planet this holds true for several societies of our world. Of course your peers and mentors offer congratulations and reward but so often these are insincere, meaningless words. Have you ever wondered why someone should be happy for you (exclude immediate family from the list, that’s a whole other story)? You are brought into the world with nothing but a mother to take care of you- if you’re lucky, you have a grand total of no accomplishments or merit (save maybe survival), and nothing to warrant respect. Yet, you parents unconditionally love you—perhaps out of selfish conceit, as you are of them. As the years pass we follow the path dictated to us by class, privilege and fortune, social norms, or maybe by a higher power. Thus, we are all fairly similar; as in reality it makes no difference whether you choose to do gymnastics or play the drums, whether you get an IB diploma or merely take an AP English class. Arguably of course these things all influence your future, but who is to say the future will be any different in principle from the present.
Regardless, I digress. If we have no extraordinary merit or noble character what is to say that the strangers amongst whom we live are to love us, to care. Is it human need for society—I maintain that man is a social animal—or the pride which comes with knowing a handful of perfectly average “exceptional” youths? This is clearly too far out of my league for me to address, but I will say that from what I’ve observed in my short 17 years on the planet people care about people. And something so beautiful requires no reason.
Yet, selflessness is, in and of itself, selfish. Any good deed is liable to make the do-gooder feel good, and good is… good. And who among us does not like at least a moment in their day of good feeling? So, in trying to fulfill ourselves many of us choose to pour what they have of themselves into others: their love, intelligence, innocence, and beauty. Now I think that these things must cycle endlessly throughout our world, being shared and enjoyed by family and strangers alike.
Finally, the initial concept for this post reveals itself. As I spend more and more time in attempts to reform myself, perhaps to revert somewhat to my old self, I often find that a full understanding of “conceit” eludes me. It is self-importance, vanity, and pride; it shows in arrogance, snobbery, and self-satisfaction; it breeds jealousy, resentment, and bitterness; and it is certainly not a pretty state of being. In all honesty (though I doubt how many people this will actually convince), I recognize that I am a conceited person, and I despise that about myself. But here you see the connection: conceit rewards self—and surely such an awesome thing deserves to be rewarded (in everyone).
On to tonight’s revelation, however:
- one person can only love so much
- the person you know best is yourself- every evil crevice of your mind
- love is very spreadable
- the more the merrier
- sharing is always advisable
- strive for diversity
- there are benefits to all trade
- let those who can do something better realize the task
- once a glass is full you’re stuck until you take a sip or spill, but water cycles through other places
- hugs are warm and nice
The singular unifying theme here is letting others love you. If a person has a finite amount of love to go around and full jurisdiction over its distribution they may either concentrate it fully within them or shower it upon all those near and dear (like confetti-always a nice touch). Think of yourself, your persona, aura, and life, heart, and everything about you as a vessel. When you choose to love yourself you fill your glass to the brim, carefully balancing this image of perfect completeness you are bound to let a drop or two spill as you go; and should you stumble in the least the entire content will come pouring out, and the glass may break. But spread this love and it flows into a cycle, much like a fountain: constantly replenishing itself and open to all who are willing to partake in its offerings, to appreciate the beauty. This vessel is grander, more stable and open for you to share the much larger body of feeling than you could ever muster on your own. And surely, your love would flow through this cycle as well, perhaps to occasionally touch upon your heart and flow on to please others.
Now, in laymen’s terms: fill yourself with love form others, from a variety of sources, and through hugs whenever possible. If the society should dictate how you live, at least let them make you happy in that life—let them love you. In return, give your love and combine it with others’ in all those for whom you care.
Sorry if this sounded preachy, but in reality this is naught more than a message to myself. It was a momentous thought, impressions of which I managed to retain and wanted to record so that I may remember the feeling, the logic, and stop loving myself so much. It is not that you are unimportant, it is that you are (we all are) so too important to trust yourself to only you. Now, it’s time to forget about how great—or not so—you are, and let others think of such minute details; it’s time to focus on the infinitely more important remainder of the world.
Remember:
- Be content in what you have
- You will get everything you earn or deserve in due time
- Give back more than you take in
- Love others more than yourself, and they will take care of you
- Let yourself fall from the pedestal, tumble through the dirt a little, and live with the mere mortals of whom you are one
- You are no less for your mistakes, but treat them right and you could grow
- Everything will work out in the end
Monday, 13 April 2009
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Materialistic
As of late my life has no direction. There is nothing I want to do, nothing to dedicate myself to, nothing that interests me enough for me to want to get into tremendous debt over it and pursue it for the remainder of my life. The main problem with this is that I now don't exactly see a reason to live. That isn't to say that I'll be ending my life, because I just don't see myself doing something like that-- merely to say that I honestly see no real material purpose to our existence. And a materialistic purpose is what society dictates we should have.
Why do you need a six-figure salary, the picture perfect house, the luxury car if in another 60-something years you'll be six feet under? The point is, as Kaufman's play is conveniently titled, You Can't Take It with You.
For a couple months now I've been thinking about what is considered a happy life. I want to be able to, on my deathbed, attest to having had a fulfilled life. I want kids, I want to share love, I want to make a positive impact in at least one person's life, I want adventure, I want to know the world as well as I can, I want to have lived for something. Now, I obviously have absolutely no authority to go Christian on you here, but maybe the real point is simply (or not quite so simply) to glorify God. I do believe that He is the one who provides us with eternal, unconditional love if only we're willing to accept it and return it. (Am I missing something here?) What is so wrong about living a moral life, about doing what you enjoy rather than seeking financial security, about helping people find contentment and peace in what they have, about establishing the most earnest of relationships...?
Really, I don't get how to worship God, I don't think I have the trust, nor the strength to do it... but I do love the approach.
Love you, really truly do.
And I will be having kids, even if I do have a job I like which means insecurity.
Sunday, 05 April 2009
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I like
1. Ballet
2. Boys
3. Good French movies
4. Geniuses
5. Muscular masculine forearms
6. Romance novels
7. Nero Wolfe mysteries
8. Books that make me cry
9. Pseudo-philosophical thinking
10. Writing about my feelings
11. Animals
12. When fuzzy pets with cute noses come up to sniff you
13. Being girly
14. “Handwriting” fonts
15. Bright colors
16. Pastel colors
17. Making lists
18. Russian children’s books
19. Nursery rhymes
20. Singing along with the song that’s playing
21. Bottled water
22. Making flames flicker
23. Baking
24. The smell of chocolate
25. Wearing aprons
26. Buying new makeup
27. The little shopping bags that small things, such as a bra or panties, or a tube of mascara come in
28. Petting soft things
29. Soft skin
30. Citrusy scents
31. Washing dishes
32. Talking to my sister about girly things
33. New undergarments
34. The smell of new books
35. The history of old books
36. Things/events in chronological order
37. Dainty jewelry
38. Trying things on when I get home from shopping
39. Body butter
40. Photography
41. Having things explained to me
Especially by smart boys
42. Microsoft Office XP
43. Colored contacts
44. Going to the dentist
45. A boy’s hand on the small of my back
46. Aromatherapy
47. Letter openers {to use and to play with}
48. {These squiggly bracket things}
49. Cashmere-silk blend fabrics
Especially for scarves
50. Finding new keyboard shortcuts
51. Typing things into the calculator really quickly
52. Talking
53. People who can make me laugh as much as my dad can
54. Big eyes
55. Curly hair
56. Tall boys
57. When my bed is made
58. A clean room
59. Brightly colored accents in a neutral space
60. Gerber daisies
61. Calla lilies
62. Roses
63. Chrysanthemums
64. Carnations
65. Being able to smell honeysuckle form faraway
66. When people give me music I like
67. Chocolate
68. Variety packs of band-aids
Especially if they have blister band-aids
69. Blister band-aids
70. Gel shoe insoles {mainly for squishing at the store}
71. Fine-grain leather
72. Worn-in bags
73. Very dark wood
74. Laser printers
75. St. Petersburg
76. New York
77. Russia
78. Sunny weather with a slight breeze
79. Late-night phone conversations
80. Clutches {i.e. evening bags/purses}
81. Arguing over semantics
82. Christmas-tree ornaments
83. Cranberry and pumpkin flavor things
84. Butternut squash soup
85. Carmel
86. Light-brown sugar
87. When I’m tan
88. When I’m pale
89. Straight-across and Dutch-boy bangs
90. A bob- haircut
91. Fortune cookies
92. Collecting fortune cookie fortunes
93. Looking at old pictures
94. Seasons
95. Hearing languages I don’t understand
96. Hearing languages similar to those I know and understanding
97. New York University
98. Dancing
99. Wrapping gifts
100. Counting seconds instead of looking at a clock to time things
101. Listerine breath strips
102. Orbit gum
103. Long scarves
104. Pom-poms
105. Buying balloons
106. Costumes
107. Corsets
108. Tights with elaborate designs
109. Wearing very high heels
110. Peep-toe shoes
111. Form-fitting shirts
112. Sun dresses
113. Wide-brimmed straw hats
114. Fedoras
115. Anthropologie
116. J. Crew
117. Inspired essays
118. When one of my good writing days coincides with a writing assignment
119. The night
120. Snow
121. Hail
122. Flying
123. Swimming
124. Watching ice skating
125. Johnny Weir
126. Svetlana Zakharova
127. Polina Semionova
128. Obscure names
129. Long, cumbersome, old-fashioned names
130. Coasters
131. Simple dishes
132. Silver silverware
133. Large couches
134. Watching movies for the first time long after the hype is over
135. The prospect of kissing {and/or dancing} in the rain
136. Getting soaked when it’s warm outside
137. Walking on curbs
138. Soft and very fine grass
139. Running through sprinklers
140. Wading in fountains
141. Looking at catalogs
142. That I have a 12 year old teddy-bear to go to for comfort
143. Sleeping in the fetal position
144. Cuddling
145. Having weight on me {be it heavy covers or an arm draped over my waist} when I sleep
146. Chanel
147. Dior
148. Emanuel Ungaro
149. Christian Louboutin
150. Authentic sushi
151. Authentic ethnic foods
152. Trying new things
153. Sweet smells
154. Yogurt
155. Ice cream
156. Gelato
157. Making desserts
158. The glossy red-white swirl of peppermint candies
159. Listening to people’s problems
160. “Froots”
161. Krasnoyarsk State Theater of Opera and Ballet’s staging of Sleeping Beauty
162. Dressing up
163. Exercise
164. Talking about boys
165. When awkward or embarrassing topics come up in conversation
166. Blushing
167. Giving presents
168. Volunteering
169. Kids
170. Blue-tooth headsets
171. Good erasers
172. Random comments
173. Yawning
174. Being tickled
175. Playing tag
176. Playing ultimate Frisbee
177. Playing “Hide and Go Seek”
178. Old sitcoms
Especially “I Love Lucy,” “Three’s Company,” “I Dream of Jeanie”
179. Straight lines
180. Squiggles
181. Shading things
182. Cross-stitching
183. Getting my hair cut
184. Putting on makeup
185. When my eyes change colors
186. Collecting change
187. Rhyming poetry
188. Pushkin
189. That Russia is {or has historically been} unconquerable
190. My family
191. Living in foreign places
192. Getting to know people from the preceding generations
193. Spices
194. Touring spooky places {Alcatraz, various burial grounds, and conspiracy-theory ridden locations}
195. San Francisco
196. California
197. The Ocean {any one really}
198. Penguins
199. Kramer vs. Kramer
200. All that Jazz
201. Forest Gump
202. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
203. How to Steal a Million
204. Sabrina
205. Across the Universe
206. Juno
207. Ирония Судьбы
208. Online shopping
209. Whole foods
210. Letters written the old-fashioned way
211. Funny typos
212. Russian
213. French
214. Exercise balls
215. Pilates
216. Sweat pants
217. Dark-wash jeans
218. RuMe bags
219. Messenger bags
220. The way cocktails look
221. Organizing things
222. New leotards
223. Italy
224. Pope John Paul II
225. My grandparents
226. Tulips
227. Growing our own fruits, vegetables, and herbs
228. When people don’t care what others think
229. Innocence
230. The number 2
231. The number 8
232. The letter X
233. Words that end in –esque
234. Words that are rarely used
Especially ergo
235. Peanut butter
236. Nutella
237. Candied nuts
238. Hosting
239. Gay boys
240. Pointe
241. Gymnastics
Especially rhythmic for girls
242. Multiplying
243. Complex formulas
244. Einstein
245. Genetics
246. Molecular biology
247. Smart cars
248. J. Crew driving mocs
249. Gap Body bras
250. Lace
251. Frills
252. Bows
253. Ruffles
254. Fireplaces
255. Warm-colored walls
256. Venetian plaster
257. Real mosaics
258. When boys do gentlemanly things- such as opening doors and pulling out chairs- for girls
Especially without having to pause and think about it
259. Ms. Roberts, Mrs. Saenz, Mrs. Smeltzer, Mr. Fulkerson, Mrs. Delbar, Mr. Fritch, Mrs. Cullen
260. Spartacus- the ballet
261. Mariyana Borisovna (my ballet teacher in Russia)
262. Kitri’s variations
263. Esmeralda’s variation
264. Giselle
265. La Bayedere
266. Le Corsaire
267. Don Quixote
268. The Beatles
269. ABBA
270. RHCP
271. Высотский
272. Bonnie M
273. Машина Времени
274. Skipping
275. Meadows
276. Bed-time stories
277. Fairy tales
278. Being called bunny, and “lastochka”
279. The Russian pronunciation of my name
280. The Russian variations on my name
281. When people smile genuinely
282. When people are happy and its infectious
283. Waking up and smiling
284. Taking walks
285. Silhouettes
286. The Moscow and St. Petersburg subways
287. Exfoliating my skin
288. Shaving my legs
289. Bubble baths
290. Going to the optometrist
291. Hot chocolate
292. Coffee
293. Tea
especially white, green, and the kind with various things added
294. Cheesecakes
295. Barnes & Noble
296. 5th Avenue
297. William Sonoma
298. Crate and Barrel
299. Wandering around IKEA
300. Good knives
301. Pretty, embellished placemats
302. Good grammar
303. Bathrobes
304. Hemingway
305. My humidifier
306. Watching EuroNews in the morning
307. When the blogs I read are updated
308. That the pothole on Lake Creek got filled
309. Being able to drive
310. Complimenting strangers
311. Hugs
312. Kisses
313. My imagination
314. Soft light
315. Velvet
316. Silk
317. Satin
318. Finding new recipes
319. The names Aurora Mia and Saurah Kamal
320. Boys whose last names start with the letter K {at least that has been the trend}
321. The way my mind works
322. Knowing two languages
323. Learning languages
324. When people make friends with me
325. Instant oatmeal
326. Tapioca pudding
327. Bubble tea
328. Arguing
329. Being proven wrong by people I like and respect
330. Butterflies
331. Keeping up with my friends
332. When new couples form
333. Going out to eat
334. Cooking dinner
335. Birthdays
336. New Year’s
337. Seeing how well people fit their zodiac descriptions
338. N- the game
339. Lying down
340. Resting my head on someone’s shoulder {or other accessible and appropriate body part- such as the chest(masculine only) or lap}
341. Getting mail
342. Thick socks
343. Thick towels
344. Foamy soap
345. Bamboo things
346. Gel pens
347. Large sunglasses
348. Siberian Grays (a cat breed)
349. Peacocks
350. Giraffes
351. Bunnies
352. Salukis
353. Tide-to-Go
354. Worn-in hair bands
355. Graphic tees
356. Soccer
357. Eneloop (rechargeable batteries)
358. Head bands
359. Business suits
360. Large executive chair {the big black leather ones}
361. Web-comics
362. Watching the clouds
363. Looking at stars
364. Staring at the moon out of a car window while someone else drives
365. Vanilla
366. Eyore
367. “The Raven”
368. The Russian translation of Winnie the Pooh
369. Cheerful umbrellas
370. Hydrangeas
371. Good turning days
372. Listening to KMFA while I drive
373. My Gap booties
374. Heating pads
375. IcyHot
376. Pancake tutus
377. Pancakes
378. Chocolate chips
379. Berries
380. Watermelon
381. Special K cereal
382. Honey
383. Grilled cheese with good cheese
384. Brie en cruet
385. Puff pastry
386. Pelmeni {пельмени}
387. Foamed milk
388. Carmel Macchiatos
389. When boys can stand up for themselves {and do so}
390. Washing my hair
391. Ponytails
392. French braids
393. Sourdough bread
394. Ciabatta
395. Prosciutto
396. Gateway
397. Throws {for the couch}
Especially with fringe
398. Pretty folders and binder
399. College-ruled paper
400. Laptops
401. You
Thursday, 02 April 2009
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Much Delayed
I haven't written in here for a while, and I do have a whole lot on my mind. So much, in fact, that I do not have the space or the time to voice it all at the moment. Topics to be addressed include:
NYU
Financial Aid
College Life- and apprehension about it
My vision for this summer
My family
Maybe God... if I'm feeling up to it
My likes/dislikes (I've been meaning to do this for a while)
My conceit and reasons (by no means excuses) for it
Baking
The future- past the next 2 years
The ways in which women and men view love differently
Career choices- true passions, money, doing good, or something healthy for the soul and mind?
Essentially I can not stop thinking long enough to relax and savor the end of this year, to take in everything that I have available to me now. But I am trying.
On another note, this specifically to my friends. I'm a seemingly terrible person to be friends with: demanding, mean, judgmental, cold, hypocritical and all of that, but in reality I do care for you more than you can fathom. I care for you all, and appreciate everything you do. You're a huge part of my life and I love you. Please try to forgive my misbehavior, unrealistic demands, rudeness past, present, and future.
Friday, 06 March 2009
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The Workings of the Heart and Soul
Or just hormones if you prefer. As I don't have time to actually write this right now, I am simply leaving myself a reminder. Having stayed home from ballet today, I got to watch Gilmore Girls (or rather, sleep on the couch to it playing in the background because I don't feel quite comfortable alone in silence all the time). In the episode Dean (the name's really unimportant) asks: "Why couldn't she [Rory] love me?"
I got to thinking, is it harder for women to love? To truly, unconditionally love a man. A child, sure, women have a stronger connection to and I believe care more deeply for, but is it harder for us to love a man than it is for a man to love a woman?
I will edit this sometime after my SMU audition, in the meantime feel free to leave your comments/thoughts on the matter.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
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Crying is Beautiful
It is not happy or sad, crying is nothing but beautiful. It is the sincerest release of emotion, and there is no hiding it. It makes no difference if your eyes are puffy or your mascara is running, all the matters is that you're human enough to feel something deeply enough to let it go. Call me crazy for thinking this, but the world needs to be softer, more open, genuine and I think that shedding a few tears every once in a while couldn't hurt.
I don't advocate the whole world turning into cry-babies... please don't.
BalletRomance
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- Name: Anna
- Gender: Female
- Member Since: 9/27/2008
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About Me
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Simply complicated
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The beauty thing has gone down the drain. I finished my kitty and am working on the ducky/monkey. Life isn't all bad.
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Life must not hate me so badly... it always proves my point. Even if it hurts.
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Maybe it would be easier to have started drugs... maybe I wouldn't care.
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