Somehow I was tired of all sorts of marathons and other creative races during the winter, that I approached with some skepticism to the beginning of Masha Olendar's text about the new project.
After reading the text several times, I thought that once a month, you can dig inside yourself and support your friend. After all, it's a good thing, aimed at improving the quality of life of people. And it's cool. And Masha is also good. That's why I've been doing a lot of digging in my memories chest.
If you are also interested in disassembling your inner devils on the shelves, then for the details here.
And I will start.
Sometimes I like to be given sweet memories from my childhood. I was a funny kid with a wild imagination. There were always good ghosts in my closet, all the pigeons in the yard talking to me in bird's-eye language, the homeless cats jumped onto the fourth floor and my brother was greedy for a Mars chocolate bar for keeping quiet. Every butterfly I met was at least from the Red Book, and I still believe that there was a whole series of cartoons in the clouds.
Now I understand that it was difficult for my parents with such a girl: flawlessly assembled, responsible and very, well, very stubborn and with a fantasy that took her away to sea voyages in biology class at the sight of a picture with water turtles. The wild mixture is an excellent girl's syndrome with a live hooligan who flies in her thoughts.
As a child, I decided that I wanted to study at a music school. Actually, I dreamed of an art school, but it wasn't clear where, and the music school was not far from home. Plus, my friend's older sister, our neighbors downstairs, had a piano.
My parents had no time to drag me from the music room to school, rehearsals, and meetings, plus music lessons. That's why we talked to me out of this idea every day for three months as a family. But I was standing on my own. It's the first time in my life I've ever dreamt of becoming a musician.
First I wanted to be a vocalist, then a pianist, and then I ended up an artist.
About 5 years later, I realized that I was an artist, an even worse pianist and that the range of possibilities was too small for a vocalist. But for another five years, I ate this musical cactus in order to finish what I had started.
In Class 5, I wanted to be a veterinarian. We had a dog, a West Siberian kid, and he had a freak accident. Everybody told us to put him to sleep, and his parents cured him against all odds.
I thought if I were a veterinarian, I'd be able to heal all the homeless animals from the puzzle, and no other cat on the planet died after a car accident. Dad explained to me that I couldn't save everyone and sometimes I'd have to put them to sleep. After that, I stopped loving biology and dreaming of being a veterinarian with an education.
In the 7th-8th grade, I was bullied by my classmates. They hurt me because I was too good, kind and right. They humiliated me in different ways. I remember clearly how I decided to become a prosecutor to do justice at the city level after I was kicked out of school. Time went by, and the prosecutor's office wasn't working. Although I applied to the Law Academy.
And the boomerang of bad cases caught up with those classmates, some of them even served time in prison for their other deeds. And now I don't hold a grudge against them at all. Thanks to them, I ended up in another school, with other people, with a wonderful mathematics teacher. I became less naive because of their lessons in cruelty and childish stupidity. And it helped me many times in my life.
In 10th grade, I wanted to be a journalist. I imagined myself as Carrie Bradshaw, but with the investigation of cases at Vlad Listyev's level (a well-known journalist at the time of the channel). But I was so insecure about myself, my desires, and my essays, that I quickly left the idea of dusting on the shelf in the back of my closet.
Having chosen a rational way of mathematics with the illusion of love and ease, which in the end I never met at the mathematics and mechanics department, I gained invaluable experience and best friends and made a search for my own calling as a hobby.
About 10 years ago, I often thought, "What would happen if I became a veterinarian? Or maybe a prosecutor? A singer? Or a journalist? I've been thinking about it again later. But I understand that if I hadn't had the mathematical knowledge I would have been a little different. Perhaps better, or maybe the other way around.
Anyway, journalism is still in my life.