The Chronicles of Boredom [part 1]

First off, pardon any typos that I may have made. I am writing off my phone. Normally it hates me, and I hate it just as much. However, I'm grateful that from time to time, it feels my pain and bears with me.

I'm incredibly bored, and the semester that's just started announces to be the worst ever. So here, I am now opening the Chronicles of Boredom.

Here's a change in atmosphere for this blog!

Monday, February 17th, 2014

Having massively ditched classes in the past semester, my friend and I decided to stay put this time (or at least for the next two weeks). We had last week off. Instead of working on my degree, for fear my coordinator would strip me even of the little shred of dignity left in me, I've spent my entire time either moaning for various reasons, learning Dutch, or just wasting my time...derping around on an MMO. I didn't even write, as I normally do when the music I'm listening to, gets to me and makes me break down in tears. I did feel the need to write, but my mind was stuck on "Waiting" mode. Idle. For days.

So much for the week off. The second semester kicked off in the worst way possible for us students, whether we like to study or not:

Monday: 8am - 6pm

Tuesday: 8am - 6 pm with a 2-hour break

Wednesday: 8am - 12pm

Thursday: 8am - 4pm

Friday: -

It couldn't get any wor--I mean better. No. Wait. It really couldn't get worse. Thank you, whoever made us this schedule. But hey, apparently they've changed it! Not much of a change anyway. Right? Right. There goes the hype.

My only consolation today is that they've fixed the wifi hotspot in the building, so I can get over the fact that I only have 21.76MB of traffic left on my phone to keep myself entertained. Furthermore, considering the fact that today's phones just can't put up with prolonged intensive usage without being plugged in, despite the full battery at first, I've also brought my charger (which I ended up sharing - surely you know the increasing feeling of desperation at the sight of your dying phone when you need it the most). Honestly, I find very hard to believe the beautiful lie of a 100% full battery. How dare I?!

Four hours in, starting the fifth out of the total of ten. This is more than a full working day. It doesn't matter. I am a student. I need to shut up and endure. I must fight the heavy boredom and the great urge to jump out the window.

Anyway.

French literature class. Movie. About Marcel Proust's life. And his death. Irrelevant. Since it was early morning, not even the teacher felt like holding the class. She gave us the bibliography for the semester and put a movie for us to keep us silent - an attempt that failed. Nobody paid attention to the documentary. A class here is two hours long, or an hour and a half, depending on the teacher, because there are times when the teacher is overzealous and decides to keep us more than the standard time allocated. Thankfully, none of my teachers this semester have this habit, so they only keep us the usual hour and a half to give us enough time to decide whether or not we want to stay for the next course.

Now going back to the literature class, for the entire duration, my dear blonde friend and I...well...we randomly slapped eachother and pulled eachother's hair, after butchering Proust's name in numerous ways.

When boredom kicks in, believe me, it kicks hard. Among other things, my friend started to laugh at some drawing she saw in the documentary.

What she said: "Look, that doodle looks like a pissed cat."

What my half asleep, messed up mind understood: "Look, that dude has a whistle in his butt."

From what she said to what I understood is a pretty long way, don't you agree? Still, the teacher ignored our childish fights and did her best to enjoy the documentary. The dear soul...

We had a seminar with the same teacher right after. I tried tweeting, or starting a conversation with a few people, but I failed miserably. Therefore, the slaps, few punches, pinches, and many other, continued. The teacher ignored us and went on with her class the best way she could, without a twitch, much less looking our way whenever we'd burst into laughter. God bless her.

Afraid my phone would give up on me halfway through this day, I plugged it into the plug behind the teacher's desk, took over the super comfortable teacher's chair, and started tapping away into this post.

People, just as bored as I am. A loud, tiring chaos of more or less crystalline voices of the females present within the walls of this class. My friend to my left - typing messages, bugging me inbetween replies, engaging me into a playful violence towards her. But I still love her. To my right - a girl. From another group. Trying to read a book and make notes. Keyword: "trying". Attempting. I seriously don't know how she managed to do anything at all. If she managed, that is.

Fifteen minutes passed, no sign of the teacher for the next class. Someone came and told us to wait fifteen more minutes because she was busy with some documents. When those fifteen minutes were up, the same person came and told us the teacher said that we could go home. Well...that'd be nice...if we didn't have two more classes afterwards. Just as boring as the first two, just as boring as the one that got cancelled. Great. Beautiful. Sublime.

Next class is here. Hyper teacher. Very. Very hyper. Exahusting. But she's a sweetheart. Here we go.

The coffee I have bought from the machine downstairs has gone cold long ago. I have been too busy typing this post.

There, coffee's gone in one gulp. Smiley face.

Repost from some forgotten notes

It has been a while since my last post. I feel completely blocked, and I am currently facing the inability to actually write anything other than short messages. Right now there are some things that I need to sort out for myself before I post anything new, so here is an old one, which has been lying forgotten somewhere in my facebook notes for almost a year.

Here goes.

Three months since my arrival in Poznan. Two more to go. I have had much time to think not necessarily about myself, but about life in general and what lies beyond it. I could finally release myself, even if not to a full extent and I believe I have had the chance to contemplate and learn about myself more than I have previously been able to. I have been through a lot, so saying that I am happy would make me a liar, especially after the last few unfortunate events that are still haunting me the way they do. However, I have once again rediscovered my desire and maybe motivation to write and I guess I shall be grateful for just this.

Regardless of time and space, whether I am awake or asleep, I am forever plagued by the most twisted coincidences, signs, recurring dreams, and strong, sudden feelings I cannot explain - all reminding me of the past in the most painful way, subduing my will. I am on my knees as my world was thrown into chaos and turmoil. It is no wonder that it is already taking its toll on my mind and body. As much as I would like to detach myself from everything - to move on, something is forcefully holding me back, punishing me in a more violent manner than previously, whenever I dare take a step or two. I am being kept on the edge of sanity, strong enough not to fall, weak enough to not be able to stand. Some wounds simply refuse to close, so wishing for them to heal is probably too much of me to ask. Even as I am writing this, I can feel my soul scream inside me as it dies a little more. I am fading.

In my constant wait for a something  - or someone I do not know, I often turn my head to the train station as I cross the bridge almost daily. Sometimes when I am not in a hurry, I stop for a short while to look at the trains... During winter the tracks were covered in snow, which has now been replaced by patches of grass here and there, and a few yellow flowers scattered around. A miracle in itself, I have to admit, for nature has its ways of sprouting life even where man has buried it under a thick layer of rocks and concrete. I have learnt that this is a city that is never at rest, not because it is filled with students, nor because of the nightlife. It buzzes from early hours till late into the night and is just as lively no matter the time.  Nobody really stops to give their bodies a minute to rest anymore, much less pause to look at the sky for a brief moment, which recently brought me to the conclusion that maybe I have also neglected myself, even though I did not notice at the time - I just never bothered to do anything about it. My soul has been yearning and my heart has been crying for a long time now but I have grown blind and deaf to my own needs. Looking at the tracks, my mind empties and I can almost feel myself beginning to float away, slipping from my body. I clearly do not wish to exist. Then I suddenly snap out of the trance and I walk away quickly. I still wonder what would happen if I let myself slip into the unconscious, but somehow, something is telling me the time for that is not yet upon me, therefore I continue to be anchored to this world against my will.

My room is on the back side of the dormitory, with not much of a view to offer, to be honest - just some gloomy houses and the top of a tower nearby. Somewhere in the horizon lies the small but always busy airport, which is 7 km from here - one insignificant detail which I really do not know why I remember. The more spectacular view is supposedly on the other side, which gives you a rather nice panorama of the "Rondo Kaponiera" - a roundabout and as far as I know, a very important point in this town. At night you can see the lights of the highway in the distance. I cannot deny that this urban landscape has a certain appeal, despite the roundabout currently being under construction... However, there seems to be something more special about the side of the building where my room is. It might not be as lively and surely not as sunny either, as the building casts a great shadow on this side, providing shelter from the bothersome heat and often too bright daylight, which I can say is perfect for someone like me. Nevertheless, it is... peaceful... the silence... the way the light of the sunset floods the rooms in some evenings... seeing the planes as they descend from the skies... it makes me realize that I am constantly waiting for someone or something, and sometimes this atmosphere gives me this indescribable feeling, like I want to erase my existence to merge with the infinite and become one with nature. There is something special even about the rain, if you watch it from here - but then again, rain has always had a special place in my heart.

Living in a dormitory together with so many people soon brought me to the point where no sound startles me anymore. Music academy students practicing till late at night, neighbors moving furniture at 3 AM, fights, parties going on upstairs, loud talking, doors slamming, plus many other sources of noise present here, not to mention the ambulances and police cars always speeding past this place... Last night though, nature decided to make me a pleasant surprise. I was woken from one of my usual dreams by some chirps around 5 AM - the same hour when oh so many other things have happened lately. It wasn't my first time hearing them, but something seemed different this time. I had always believed it was either someone listening to a recording of nature sounds, to help with their sleep, or just some electronic device. I lay still for a few minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling in the semi-darkness, listening, with no specific thought in my mind. My body stood up on its own as I absently went to the window, where I stopped for a few more moments. My hand reached out and opened the window and I realized that those chirps came from real birds. I stood there frozen, mesmerized by that harmony, my mind emptied and my heart strangely at peace. It was almost like it was orchestrated by a genius in the art of music - one bird somewhere close, singing in the lead, while a few other, a bit farther, formed a perfect chorus in the background. Just as absently, I closed the window, went back to bed and curled up under the blanket. An hour later their song had ceased. Nightingales? I do not know, I have never heard one, therefore I apologize if I am wrong by having made this statement.

I was never a person who loves the day. There is no mystery to it, the sun reveals too much, and there is no magic left at all. It is in the sanctuary of the night that I seek my refuge. Away from chaos and disorder, away from judging eyes, snug in the bosom of this time of magic and enigma. It is the time when I can finally fly away for a few hours, only to return in the morning.

Considering what has happened to me in the past two months or so, last night's event has left me slightly alarmed, feeling very uneasy. Do not ask, I cannot explain this even to myself. My senses are unusually sharp, and so far they have been accurate more than ever, so I am sure something is bound to happen soon enough. I can do nothing but wait and see what happens. In the end it is what I have done all my life - I must have gotten used to it by now... Alas, patience is not among my virtues.

I am yet to learn the true depth of myself and I highly doubt I shall ever see the bottom, but I am comfortable with this thought.

Now that I am back in my hometown, I wish I could go back. And I will. Just not back to the same town or even country. My chaotic, solitary life shall be my demise. May it be a sweet one.