I’m Sorry, Tiffany/Ugg/Victoria’s Secret, It Just Won’t Work Between Us

How often have I seen something inexplicably amazing in an on-line shop that costs a half of what it does in a Moscow retail outlet, selected it and clicked: “Order”, only to find that, while they deliver these fantastic woolly shoes/bracelet/polar bear claw/etc. even to Honduras (whatever for), Russia is, once again, NOT on the list.

            This is so annoying that I can’t even rant about it properly. But that doesn’t mean I won’t make the effort. I’m not going to go into detail on the workings of the Russian post and all the ridiculous rules and regulations that make it that much more difficult for foreign shop-owners to cooperate with us.

            But I am going to say that

this is outrageous. It’s like the iron curtain never fell. We have to wait up to 6 months for a simple postcard, and God forbid anyone tries to order anything on Ebay – expect your delivery in a year or two. I may be exaggerating a little, but if you ever tried to deal with our post, you get what I mean.

            And there’s the service in the post-offices to talk about. In one of the previous posts in this blog I wrote about the Scary Lady Syndrome. Remember: the women who work in the offices of Pochta Rossii (the federate mail service) are, each of them, the queen bees of all the scary ladies.

They are mean, bitter and always SO ANGRY at you, their job, the whole world and everything that’s in it. Don’t look them in the eye, speak clearly, or, rather, don’t speak at all, just fill out your paperwork correctly (no-one cares that there’s not a single example of how to do that on the web or in the office – that’s your problem) and give it to them without making any sudden movements. Then, and only then, may you come out of there with your head still resting on your shoulders. And, if you’ve been blessed by Zeus and Odin, with your letter/package in your hands.

Using other delivery services helps, if only a little – they have decent employees who smile at you and speak in soft, polite voices. But THEY have to deal with the federal post instead of you, and that explains why they charge you that s-load of money for their services. And, again, due to their working through the federal post system, things still don’t get delivered any faster.

 

I have no solution for the problem, and this isn’t a motivational post, just a straight-up rant, it’s just here to let out the AAAAARGH I feel when desperately wanting to buy something that costs 2 times less in Europe, US, Asia – basically, all over the world - but not being able to do that because of the idiotic import policy of my country. If you’re with me, share and rant on, may be, someday, it’ll somehow force this situation to change.

Exam Season, So...

Sorry. I'm up to my ears with university papers, and thinking about anything but Stylistics and Translation Theory seems impossible. So, I'll make you a deal: my next post will be 10 times more awesome than anything I could have whipped up today.

For now, here's another video of me singing. It's a cover of the Russian version of a song from Brave, "Touch the Sky" ("Птицей стать"). Sorry again ^^

The Scary Lady Syndrome

As a guide, I often show foreigners around Moscow. Along with telling them what they want to know about the city's history (although, to be honest, I soon end up answering questions about Putin, The Pussycat Dolls and the Anti-homosexual law), I listen to them talk about their impressions from my beloved country. And, sadly, the thing that seems to imprint itself in their memories the strongest is Russia's Scary Lady Syndrome.

Let me explain. For some reason, in almost every establishment there is a really scary middle-aged woman running the whole thing. She is mean, she is loud, she is usually ugly, and, if your well-being depends on her in any way, she will own you until you cry. She's a lot like a dementor - sucking all the happiness out of you, making you believe for a moment that you are the dumbest person in the world.

The question is: where do they come from? What I mean is, in the Soviet Union times these women were simply appointed on these positions as most suitable candidates (strictness and a deadly glance were appreciated back than), but by now most employers have realized that it's best to make their customers happy, not miserable, and try to hire adequate, friendly people. Even in governmentally funded institutions, surprisingly enough.

But here comes a shocker: somehow, those pretty young girls that are now hired as secretaries, train attendants, low-level governmental officials turn into scary ladies over time. Time passes, they don't move up the career ladder, or, if they do, that happens with great difficulty, so they want to enjoy what little power over others they have as much as possible, so, eventually, they turn into the monsters we all fear and hate.

And it's really sad, because they are the ones people arriving to Russia have to deal with the most, and the fact that they are what they are ruins the foreigners' impression of our country. To be honest, it ruins my impression of our country. We can't expect anyone to want to travel around Russia while these women are there to spoil the fun. We either have to turn them into some kind of attraction or make their lives a little more tolerable.

Or, 30-50 years from now, we'll end up staring at THIS at every turn.

Lazy Me

Since all of Russia is on holidays until the 9th, but I cannot just leave you with nothing, here's one of my music videos. It's a ballad dedicated to Beren and Luthien, Tolkien's characters. Even if you don't speak Russian, it still sounds great (I hope). So...enjoy and have a happy New Year and a merry Christmas!

Look out the window.

Seriously, look out the window, please. Jut don’t forget to open it first. All done? Is the sky bright blue or steely grey? Is the grass emerald green or dusty yellow? Are the people outside talking to each other, gloomily walking home or running from the rain with shrieks and laughter?

Now, close the window. Look at it. Not through it, at it. At the lint stuck to the glass, at a couple of stains left from the recent spring cleaning or at the dust looming in the corners. Or, if you live in a family that is as obsessed with cleanliness as mine, at your reflection.

Here comes my last request, and that’s it. Now, without opening the window, look outside. Look carefully. Does the grass look the same to you? Can you hear those two guys on the bench talking as clearly as before, when the window was open? Is the sky all that blue?

I’ll dare to answer that for you. No. Because of the dust, the grass is tinted a slightly different shade of green. You can only hear small parts of the conversation. And the sky…the sky is stained, its blue isn’t half as deep and saturated as it was when the window was open.

Where am I going with this? You see, to me, the sky, the grass, the conversation are all a metaphor for reality. It’s everything you see every day, everything that happens to you, your family and friends, people you don’t know, the world on the whole.

And the glass is the social opinion. It’s what people around you think about the said world and the way they describe it to you. You can’t judge the opinion itself, you can only judge what things look like through it, this glass that is supposed to help you form your opinions and superstitions.

Different occurrences require different kinds of glass. For some things it’s cleaner, for others – filthier. But, no matter how sparkling, it still doesn’t let you see the whole picture. Things are distorted, even if ever so slightly.

The same way, society can make even the most innocent thing look vulgar and dirty. Or just forget to tell you some of the details which, in hindsight, turn out to be crucial to the story and make it look completely different.

In the end, the choice is yours. You can either look through the glass or open the window. Take notice of the things people tell you about what they think on this or that, but, eventually, if you have to, swipe their opinions out of the way.

Like I said, it’s up to you. As for me…humpf…it’s so stuffy in here…would you mind if I opened the window?

To sleep, perchance, to…

No, just sleep for me, please.

How many times have you found yourself barely standing, trembling and feeling infinitely miserable, thinking…I’ll go to bed as soon as I get home. Ha-ha. I don’t mean to be mean, after all, I have the same problem, but, still. Why do we have such a huge problem with finding enough time to sleep?

By the time you get home, you’re usually pretty much awake, and after you’ve eaten, you need to do all sorts of things, like check your VK or Facebook account (or both), read your mail, work, VK or Facebook again, tweet something, eat some more, try to workout, fail, go back to VK or Facebook, and so on, so forth, until you realize that it’s 3:00 in the morning, and you’re supposed to be getting up in three hours.

 

So, then you think: I can’t fall asleep now, I won’t be able to wake up! So you make up your mind to stay awake. And THE VERY moment that thought enters your head, BAM! Your eyelids start drooping, your head feels heavy, and you decide to just sit back on the couch (or your bed) for a second, and may be close your eyes just for a minute, and then…it’s 9:00 AM, and you’re an hour late.

                                                                                           

But even if you’re lucky enough to react to the sound of alarm, you immediately curse your luck, because, and I’m sure that most of you will agree with me, waking up after having had just two or three hours of sleep. Is. Horrible. Whatever plans or thoughts you might have had regarding this day, they’re gone. There is no way that you’re doing morning yoga. A big, healthy breakfast or 30 extra minutes of sleep? Hm…what kind of question is that?! Sleep! Dressing nice? Applying make-up? (Guys – hair product)?

NO. YOU'RE CHOOSING. SLEEP.

So…is there a way out? Sure. There’s always a way out. I could tell you that you should plan your day, drink some herbal tea that will help you relax, delete your FB profile…but the ONLY real solution to the problem is to make yourself so tired during the day that by 9:00 PM you will fall snoring the moment you reach your bed, or whichever horizontal surface it is that you usually sleep on. So my advice to you (and myself) is:

If you want to get enough sleep – make yourself DO STUFF.