Last night I read one short story by Kuprin. It's amazing - I caught myself thinking (or, rather, feeling): Come on, give me some action! (like an average US Joe) What I was getting instead were many great descriptions of people, buildings, rooms, nature etc. Actually, it was very good - once I forced myself/my thoughts/my attitude to slow down.
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No other country has such a fast past like US.
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In yesterday's Times there was an article on how to pick out the perfect pillow. Before I read it, I'd just go to the nearest Bed, Bath and Beyond, see what's there and buy something. Now, if I have any self respect, I am supposed to "research" my sleeping options. Apparently some people do and then complain that they do not have time to live their lives.
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Getting back to the book issue. I lost interest in Russian books simply because I don't share most of the classics' point of view any more. Most of them are quite dis-empowering, depressing, and whining. There are exceptions of course. But then again, I already read them, why not learn something new?
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That's another American story: you must be happy, otherwise something is wrong with you. You must be happy, so you work on your marriage, friendships, relationships with your kids and other relatives; you work on yourself to find the inner bliss. And because of all this never ending work, people don't have time to experience life as it is. To smell the roses, so to speak.
If you have too much time on your hands, consider yourself lucky: the total happiness bug haven't bitten you yet.
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