At times—and more often than not—I catch myself thinking how frustrating this all is, guys. Like here you are, studying languages, nuts about Latin and Greek, going all bonkers when it comes to phonetics, and yet, at the end of the day, you see how this passion is never really gratified, how insatiate this thirst is most of the time. I mean, I barely have any fellas—and natives too—to chit-chat with in those languages I'm so crazy about (not that easy, mind you, to find bla-bla partners on the net, nice and willing), nor do I have any students—mental like I am—to teach them all this jazz. (Truth, I've no students at all these days: so much for effing summer holidays!)
Oh boy does it feel bad! Like you want smth so much, actually crave it, and there's no way you can get it. What with the lack of money, what with this S#!7 that's happened, there's zero chance of my getting abroad, and I just can't find no bloody foreigners here in my neck of the woods. It must be way less of a problem smwhr in Moscow or SPb, but it's still not like going abroad. First corona, now this; whatever next? Go figure! Bound to be smth good, though, innit? So they keep saying at any rate. And if you ask me, seems like so not promising, this all does: no light at the end of any tunnel whatsoever.
A sporadic chat with a random Ausie or Brit over Skype doesn't really help. I'm turning into a Russophobe here, seriously. I'm sick of being stuck here, with no way out. Planes cost indecently much—a ridiculous amount, for an average wretch like myself anyway. Why, why on earth must it be so hard to travel? Blasted politicians and blasted world, goddammit!
Well, back to books, I guess. Anyone who's made it through up to this chunk of text, you're welcome to comment, guys!
