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On the contrary, you need activities that take up all your time and energy so that you don't get distracted by all sorts of nonsense like depression and apathy.
And you end up with a depressed and apathetic person with no time or energy.
Well, that's just a dead end; in the end, you'll just lock yourself away in your dreams.
And you'll end up locked away in your dreams.
Небо – мольбы не ждёт Небо – угроз не слышит Небо – ведёт особый счёт Небо – тебя найдёт
The result is a depressed and apathetic person with no time or energy.
^ The more a person works without rest, the worse they feel. You just need to find something you enjoy and dedicate yourself to it, and then you won't suffer. Let the remnants of the Soviet Union unload wagons; Sisyphean labor is not a spa treatment.
But this is a dead end; in the end, you'll just lock yourself away in your dreams.
This mantra was invented a long time ago to make slaves go to work in the fields or factories and not even think that they could live better, do something they would like to do, and live the way they want to live. Live in a hovel, hammer iron, and die at 50. And dreaming is harmful – while you're dreaming, your neighbor's slave has already polished the toilet and weeded the garden.
..разым двазым трызым рызым пята лата сигерь мата локом боком крюк за крюк из бульмы бульма урюк.. Знание некоторых закономерностей освобождает от изучения многих фактов. Мечты сбываются рано или поздно, так или иначе.
I love looking at the sky. It makes me feel warm and comfortable. Or even just looking out the window. Sometimes I climb onto the windowsill (it's quite wide) and just watch. For half an hour, sometimes even an hour. I just watch.
Небо – мольбы не ждёт Небо – угроз не слышит Небо – ведёт особый счёт Небо – тебя найдёт
I remember that I once went to the British Museum to read about ways to treat some trivial ailment I had contracted—I believe it was hay fever. I checked out the necessary book and read everything I needed; then, lost in thought, I mechanically turned a few pages and began studying all sorts of maladies. I forgot the name of the first disease I came across—some terrible scourge, as far as I recall— but before I had even halfway scanned the list of preliminary symptoms, I became convinced that I had caught this disease. I sat for some time, frozen in horror, then with the indifference of despair, I began turning the pages again. I reached typhoid fever, read the symptoms and discovered that I was suffering from typhoid—had been ill for several months already, without knowing it. I wanted to know what else I was suffering from. I read about St. Vitus' Dance and learned, as was to be expected, that I suffered from this disease. Intrigued by my condition, I decided to investigate it thoroughly and began reading in alphabetical order. I read about ataxia and learned that I had recently contracted it and that the acute period would arrive in a couple of weeks. Fortunately, I suffered from Bright's disease in a mild form and, consequently, could still live for many years. I had diphtheria with serious complications, and cholera, apparently, I had been suffering from since early childhood. I conscientiously worked through all twenty-six letters of the alphabet and became convinced that the only disease I did not have was inflammation of the kneecap. At first, I was a little upset—it seemed to me an undeserved slight. Why didn't I have inflammation of the kneecap? How could such injustice be explained? But soon less predatory feelings prevailed. I thought about the fact that I had all other diseases known to medicine, became less greedy and decided to do without the inflammation of the kneecap. Gout in its most malignant form had stricken me without my knowledge, and a general predisposition to infection, apparently, I had suffered from since my adolescent years. This was the last disease in the medical guide, and I decided that everything else with me was fine. I sat and reflected. I thought about what interest I represented from a medical point of view, what an acquisition I would be for an audience. Students would have no need to "visit the clinics." I alone represented an entire clinic. It would be enough for them to walk around me and then receive their diplomas. Then I decided to find out how long I would live. I tried to examine myself. I felt my pulse. At first, I couldn't find a pulse at all. Then suddenly it began to beat. I took out my watch and started counting. I counted one hundred forty-seven beats per minute. I tried to find my heart. I could not find a heart in myself. It had stopped beating. Now, I suppose that it had all the time remained in its place and was beating, but I cannot explain what happened. I patted myself from the front, starting from what I call my waist up to my head and covered a bit of the sides and part of the back, but heard and felt nothing. I tried to show myself my tongue. I stuck it out as far as possible and squinted one eye to look at it with the other. I saw only the very tip of the tongue, and the only thing this gave me was even greater certainty that I had scarlet fever. A happy, healthy man I entered this reading room, but I left it a broken invalid.