Till Tomorrow Do Us Part

It's no secret that every girl dreams of her wedding day. A beautiful white dress, a handsome groom, gifts, flowers...Many even picture themselves walking down the aisle, even though they aren't catholic, or even christened at all.

Little girls wrap themselves in white sheets, clumsily paint their faces with their moms make-up, you know, enjoy themselves. Some collect photos and newspaper articles about the places where they'd like the ceremony to take place. Years before the actual proposal, everything is usually planned and picked out, down to the shade of lilies that the bridesmaids are to carry.

Image courtesy of Sharron Goodyear / FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

That's supposedly great, but there is a couple things wrong with this. First off, everything is chosen by one side alone, and the man's opinion doesn't really interest anyone, and, secondly, nobody cares how much all this is going to cost. This way, when it comes to a proposal, the new-made groom gets smacked with so many demands that it takes him a lot of gut not to through his fiancee's hand back at her.

I'm kidding, of course, his intentions are way too deep, and his love too strong for him to get scared off that easily. Besides, it assumed that it's not only he who is supposed to pay for the wedding, but also the parents - both his and his future spouse's.

Still, the amount of money people spend at weddings is. Insane. Compared to a young family's income, it is enormous. I'm not talking about the rich kids getting married out of their inheritance, but, in both cases, organisers and brides do their best to make the whole thing as expensive as possible.

Here comes a logical question - why? I mean, yes, this is the most important day in a girl's life, her send-off into the grown-up life, so on, so forth. But, seriously, these are just excuses. Life doesn't stop after the wedding - it's only just beginning! And all this money could really help the new family get on its feet. Why not save it until, let's say, a baby is born? Or, if they really want to live in the present, spend it on a cruise?

Image courtesy of imagerymajestic
/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

I may be called pragmatic for this, but, come on, in order to enjoy one of the happiest days of your life, do you really need to spend a budget of a small town on it? Especially since it's a wedding with the person you love. Because I get a feeling that a girl wants to spend all her money on this day because it's going to be the last good thing ever to happen to her. But that's not true - there are so many wonderful days ahead. Where does this wish to go all-in come from?

Don't even get me started on the fact that brides get so obsessed with everything going perfectly, that they get crazy antsy. And just crazy. They ruin the whole thing for themselves and everyone else involved. Weddings get canceled - not put off - CANCELED because the photographer was late. What's the big deal? Of course, this celebration is important, but it's not worth all the brain cells and money that people waste on it.

Instead of comparing ivory to champagne for the hundredth time, why not think about your life after the wedding? What it's going to be like - waking up together, raising children, growing old side by side. If these thoughts aren't as appealing as those of a perfect dress, there shouldn't even be a wedding, because it would be with a wrong person.

By focusing to much on a single day, you might miss that, and make a giant mistake, if, of course, you are not one of those brides who want not one, but a few "most important" days. So, girls, my advice to you is: thing about the marriage, not about the wedding. Guys...pick a wife with the right kind of dreams.

Image courtesy of photostock / FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

A cover I made.

University, what..?

Don't get me wrong, I love what I do. And what I do is translate, interpret and use English in my everyday life to write, sing and communicate. But the place that's supposed to teach me how to do this properly is doing such a lousy job that I can no longer be quiet. So, here goes.

I'm not going to name names here, but my linguistic university is considered to be one of the best in Russia. That might not mean a lot to you if you live in another country, but look at the map of the world. Find Russia. Wasn't too hard, was it? It's massive! It's got a lot of gifted people who are entitled to great education, just like anyone else. But what do they get instead? Let me tell you.

• We study using books that were issued in the 60-s. I am not kidding. And that's how they teach us Contemporary English.
• We do not have free access to listening or viewing materials, the only way to get to all that is through a teacher, and they are not interested in helping us.
• The teachers are actually not interested in teaching us. Paradox? Not really, would you be interested in doing anything, if your salary was less than $200 a week?
• The dean's office abuses students as well as professors, and treats both groups as if without them, the university would still exist.
• There are no. And I mean, NO internships in England, USA, Australia, or New Zealand. Which means, any of the English-speaking countries. But, of course, the university covers 100% of the cost of China, Saudi Arabia and India internships. Sure, Hindi is more popular than English.
• We don't speak English in class. Again, I'm serious. We do all sorts of things - we translate, we interpret, we retell things we have learned by heart - another useless activity, to my mind - but we do not speak. There are no discussions of the simplest things: what we like to do in our spare time, what we like to eat, where do we like to hang out. I'm one of the lucky ones, since I get to practice outside of the university, but my group-mates don't, and it shows.

It's obvious that the situation is pretty grave. I don't know if there is much of a future for this kind of education. And us, for that matter, since we're going to graduate out of it.

Straight to ranting.

Where does the average human being spend most of its life? On the road. And, if you live in a big city - it's Moscow* for me - "the road" usually means the subway. We call it "the metro", just like the French do, but, trust me, there's nothing refined about it.

I'm not saying it's ugly - no, almost every station is an architectural masterpiece. You can take a look here: http://www.creativevisualart.com/2013/05/21/11-of-moscows-most-beautiful-metro-stations

See? Gorgeous! But, for some reason, who you were when you got in there on your way to work/study/visit your old Grandma, and who you are when you get out are two completely different people. It's as if all of your positive energy was sucked - no - clawed out of you, and the only thing that's left is an empty carcass, weary and unwilling to live, let alone pay any attention to even the most beloved of relatives.

Why does this happen? You see, while you're inside this mysterious wonderland of sky-high arches, deafening trains and chamber-of-secrets-like passageways, you're not alone. If you were, you'd simply get to where you wanted to be, enjoy the view on the way, and feel more or less great - more if it isn't 7 AM, less if it is, and you're already late.

But you are surrounded by THEM. The crowds. The swarms. The throngs. I'm not using the word "people", and I will not be using it throughout this text, because what I see in the metro are not people. They are any and all of what I called them above. You cannot treat them as individuals. Well, may be, you can, for the first couple of minutes, until somebody stomps on your foot, pushes you, curses at you, and even spits at you - but that last one almost never happens. After that couple of minutes has passed, you'll gradually start seeing each and every one of them as a big blur. A blur that constantly makes you angry.

A blur that always does something wrong. And even though blurs are generally very vague, you can still separate them into types.

Type 1: The grannies. We call them "baboushkas". Never mistake them for the sweet, kind, pie-baking grannies usually described with this word. Because they are the opposite of kind. They are EVIL. They enter the metro as soon as it opens, and leave it, well, never. They drag around huge trolley-bags full of God knows, what, and if your feet are in their way - too bad, now you have no feet. Nor ears, for that matter, because they'll scream at you with words that could only come from ancient curses.

But, no matter how bad they make you feel, they're still old and considered-to-be-wise-and-frail, so you can't really say or do anything to them - and, personally, I'd be scared to even try - so you shut up. And get angry.

Type 2: The girlies. They're pretty. They're well-dressed. They smell nice. And they've got hair. Long, wavy, straight or curly hair. THAT GETS IN YOUR FACE. And, if you don't have a hair fetish, it's pretty unpleasant. But you're balancing on one foot, squeezed between a fat guy and a rocker whose jacket is all spikes, so you can't do anything about this mess of a mass in your hair. So you get angry.

Type 3: The mommies. They love their kids so much, they can't stand the thought of their little legs having to hold the weight of their - often massive - bodies. I don't giving up my seat to a toddler who can barely stand, or to a pregnant lady. I'm not a bad person! But what often happens is: as soon as a free seat turns up, a woman standing next to an obnoxious almost-teenager who manages to stand firmly on both of his feet, one hand up his nose and another one holding a comic-book, points him to the seat and says: "Sit down, dear! You must be tired!" What kind of parenting is that? No wonder guys don't give up seats for girls or women! Their mommies taught them not to!

But questioning a mother's approach to her child's upbringing would be suicidal, so what do you do? You shut up. Again. And get angry.

I could go on with the types of blurs, but there is really no need for that. The point is clear - the worst thing the metro does to you is: it makes you angry. All the time. And that anger is locked inside of you, because if you let it out, you'd either end up in jail or in a morgue. So, no matter how happy you were when you left home, by the time you're out of the public transport system, you're a nervous, eye-twitching wreck.

So my question is: what do you do to avoid this state? If you own a car and use that to get around, what is your way of dealing with traffic-jam stress? It's not the same, believe me, but close enough. So share!