2

The crisis of adolescence had really knocked me down. Even though there was no serious tragedy in my life, such as my parents’ death or a car crash with a bad injury and subsequent disability which some people of little brain like to show off in real life, and some other make books and movies out of. I nevertheless felt very miserable. Life sucked, and I would find heaps of reasons for it. Other people’s happiness and well-being would enrage me and plunge me into severe depression. I couldn’t stand it when somebody else’s life was more successful and colorful than mine. At such moments I hated and resented the whole world, and I would vent my anger on everything that was unlucky to come to my hand.

It was the end of 1997 when the film Titanic with DiCaprio in the title role was first screened in Russia. I was in year seven, and after seeing that movie all the girls from my school would cry buckets and drool over “Cutie Leo” as they used to call him.

Of course, I didn’t go out to see the movie. Besides, I didn’t have the money for that. My family had never had money for anything, and it subsequently gave me a poverty mentality forever. It has made me a sheer cheapskate watching every penny. The seeds of my future cheapness had already been planted, when I, a girl of twelve, skimped on the cinema ticket and decided to just wait for the movie to air so I could watch it for free and form an opinion of my own about the blockbuster that had taken my fellow schoolgirls’ breaths away back those days.

As is the custom, “Titanic” came out on TV almost a year late, when the main wave of Leo’s fans had subsided and the teenage girls’ excitement over him had decreased by a factor of three.

I can’t remember what exactly month it was, November or February. It was one of the dullest winter months, dark and gloomy, for the Christmas with its lights and tinsel was either over or not there yet. There was nothing much to wait for, and I was hibernating like a bear in his den. One of those dismal days I sat in front of the TV watching the acclaimed film Titanic.

Honestly, I didn’t fall in love with Leo even though the age of thirteen is considered the most fanatic. I was pretty safe on this matter. Even at that age I was sceptic about it and I didn’t understand how it was possible to fall in love with a magazine picture or a movie character instead of a real person, and cherish hopes for anything between yourself and an international celebrity. Even the guy next door might never be available for such a peewee as I was, not to mention a Hollywood actor.

However, I watched the movie from start to finish. The plot was gripping and breathtaking except for a few drown-out scenes of the shipwreck which had taken almost two thirds of the storyline. But as soon as the film was over I felt so hopelessly bitter against my own life, so bleak and dreary like the dull winter day outside my window, totally eventless - in comparison with the heroes’ last day on the Titanic full of excitement and bright emotions. The rest of the evening I spent lying face to the wall on my sofa. The next morning I went to school in a foul mood.

The first class that day was Russian literature. As I recall we were analyzing Turgenev’s novella First love. The text of the composition, like everything else at school I had barely read, but the main character of the novella, Zinaida, who had managed to keep five gentlemen at once on their toes was making me feel jealous and miserable. What bugged me the most was the fact that Zinaida had been LOVED, but I wasn’t. That’s why, when the teacher asked me to tell about the “Turgenev’s girl” character, without thinking of the consequences I grunted:

“She’s a freaking idiot. Five men dance attendance to her, but no, she thinks none of them is good enough. Who the hell else does she want? Some other women can’t get a single man in their entire life.”

“Oh yeah, just like you” remarked the boy sitting next to me.

“Titov!” the teacher called him out reproachfully and addressed me:

“Why are you being so pessimistic, Andreeva?”

“I see no reason to be optimistic,” I muttered.

“Why not? You’ve got arms and legs, and living parents, haven't you? You are a young girl of thirteen yet you sound like a cranky old woman of ninety.”

I sat down in silence. Having living parents and both my arms and legs was far from enough to make me feel happy.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

Fine movement about your feelings, the sometime emotions of the average teenager. The way you saw yourself, the inclusion of movie Titanic and how the hero was portrayed, literature class, tease from young lad: you have set your life in grey but fine pockets of life. made them real and someone sad rather than self-destructive or sensitive. Thoroughly approve your writing, so distinct: characters and thoughts and emotions clearly presented.

Will make a big sign for my desk to remind me to visit far earlier than I do. Please forgive.