05.01.09

Happy New Year! Welcome to 2009; it finds me alone in my russian apartment, having just spent the day 'recovering', eating, drawing and avoiding what i should be preparing for tomorrow. Last night, I held a 'movie marathon' in myempty flat (Sveta and Sirosha are at their 'dacha' in the country until the 10th), and i successfully did not sleep a wink. Olga, Tamara, Ian, Sara, Geraldine, Eugene, William and David came around- westayed up all night watching movies from David's harddrive on my laptop. Dini (Geraldine) baked a cake in my kitchen, David had also brought a cake and Eugene contributed sweet and sour chicken and some 'malaysian chocolate'.We watched Sinbad, Remember The Titans, Definately. Maybe, Sleepy Hollow, Its a Boy Girl Thing, Dirty Dancing 2- all pretty good films.

At about 4am, the topic of conversation turned to Malaysia; and as they described the beaches, the seafood, the monkeys, the 5 types of bananas, the cheap living standards etc. etc. once again that gaping question "why did i choose Russia?" assualted me. I mean really! When there was Italy, Spain, Greece, Turkey etcetc. all the sundrenched climates i thrive in, the beaches and seas, the suntans, the meditereanean hotties, the good food, the spicy music etc. etc. the people who understand english! I think this recent lack of enthusiasm stems from New Years Eve, and the general harrasment of it all. If you can imagine Thompsons on a Wednesday night, at 2am, you'll understand what i mean. Except add to the hunting eyes; a free bar, girls in hot pants, and you'll have an idea. i had fun, because i love to dance, and if it hadnt been for the sexual predator literally chasing us around the dancefloor it could have lasted all night. But at one point, climbing between floors (the disco and live band), i noticed this huge african guy sitting on a window ledge with his face in his hands, that were resting against his knees. As though he was feverently praying. Those moments are like lighting, the entire world seems to flip and you just stop, and lose your breath, because the beauty of it overcomes you. and the image becomes something you should engrave into time, you should write about or pray or just remember ever day of your life. I stood gaping at him for about five minutes, too scared to ask what he was doing; both in case he said no, and case he said yes. eventually Andrea stumbled up the stairs- and told me he was just sick. I so hope he wasnt, i so hope there was someone braver then me- that could sit and pray.

There were two huge fights, couples making up, hooking up and breaking up everywhere, too many people, sweating, cursing, dancing, flirting, laughing; Marianne said it was her best New Year's in a while. But its beginningto concern me that all i may have to show for my six months here, are parties. , i'm about to begin my 'teaching job'; tomorrow i have my first private pupil, and its what i should be preparing for right now. Instead of stufifngmy face, and decorating the box template thing David gave me as a present (as well as a really pretty beaded keyring made by the "Sarawak" natives where he lives). Potentially i am about to embark on the realisation of a dream. Teaching in a foreign country, coming home to write and draw. When i let it, it fills me with peace; that this is all i have to be, and this is all i want to be; a teacher and writer. But still of course, the ever gluttonous Rachel Holmes is possibly unsatisfied. There is no ugrency. there is no inspiration. no revolution or revelation. just existence. I'm not Dostoevsky who had to pawn his last jacket, or George Orwell that tramped in London and Paris. Im really not going to be an outstanding teacher,especailly when some of my students will be in their thirites, and i havent even graduated from university. And on top of that, last night we watched Sinbad and the Seven Seas (which my lover Hayley Best bought me before i left); and man that film makes me pine.