Anastasia Nemolyaeva left actresses for furniture designers, and without five minutes, candidate of technical sciences Sergey Kazarnovsky — for directing, and then for creative pedagogy. My philologist friend emigrated and became a pediatric nurse. Irreplaceable of its kind.
And the daughter of Dmitry Likhachev once said about her father that he was so wonderful because he had one goal in life, one job and one family. That is, he did not exchange at all.
Maybe I can move objects with my eyes, not to mention show business — and I have not even approached these activities. Could it be, I ask you? Here. And time goes by. And how to be?
In 1932 the world celebrated the centenary of Goethe’s death. The Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset wrote an article on the occasion. It was called «In Search of Goethe». It would seem that they say about a person on such a day? And even more so about genius? How much he has achieved and how happy humanity is reaping the fruits of his labors. An no. Ortega had the exact opposite thought. Namely, the great Goethe is good for everyone, but not for what he did in life. That is not what he became famous for. Faust, of course, is a significant thing, but frankly unsuccessful. Here are minerals, plants, ginkgo biloba discovered by him, rejuvenating the brain — everything that occupied a genius at the initial stage would play a much happier role in his life than literature. From what is it visible? Yes, take at least the face — «unpleasant folds at the mouth» in almost all youthful portraits! By the way, the generally positive Goethe spent most of his days, as you know, in a bad mood. And this is the first sign of defeat. Farther. There is no personal life — either he himself runs from women, or women from him. Escape (from fate, not otherwise!) is, in principle, the basis of Goethe’s biography. Now he runs to Weimar, then from Weimar. This is second. “Faust” of his, where everyone also wanders, writes God knows how much — most disgusting. In short, “what was his destiny degenerated into a talent,” concludes Ortega y Gasset, referring to botany, and leaves the reader completely bewildered. There is a complete dissatisfaction of an exceptional person with his own scenario. As the heroine Akhedzhakova used to say: “Well, you know, if in the Moscow City Council …” I mean, if a genius has screwed up, how can we, mere mortals, recognize our true vocation and not be mistaken? In other words — what is our true life — if it is not a diploma, not a career and not a bank account?
My classmate Yvette, after reading “In Search of Goethe” for the exam in aesthetics, sobbed for half the night. She — like, by the way, every second student in our course — takes by storm not the first education and, like, even rejoices at the light at the end of the tunnel, and then it turns out that no searches give any guarantees! But one of the main virtues according to Aristotle is to translate one’s abilities into indisputable benefit.
And now where are we — and where is Aristotle …
Unfortunately, in our minds, a sharp change in profession until recently was associated either with irresponsibility and frivolity, or with unfortunate loserism (only in the last edition it received a noble connotation in the downshifting genre). Case of life. When I after university, having worked for three years at school, suddenly on the occasion finished courses of cosmetic bags “at the table” and reigned for a year in my own beauty-office, relatives … well, except that they didn’t stop talking to me. The husband generally said so — he married a girl from the philological faculty, and, apparently, he will have to get a divorce from a hairdresser. Meanwhile, I went to bed with a parodic slogan today — if only morning and back to work! Oh, how I loved all this! Oh, how I reigned among these powders and aromas! Oh, how I turned the damned question in my head — am I really born for baths and massages, even if for the common good? That’s right, the intelligent public nodded, — really?
Meanwhile, in the heat of my transformation and profits incomparable with a teacher’s salary, I suddenly noticed that I stopped reading and partly even talking. And by combining all this, I transfer a worthy, in principle, craft into the category of hack work. And I left this beauty, and after a couple of years I went to a literary institute. And she became who she became. And I don’t regret it. But from this experience (not counting the invaluable make up rules!) I will forever remember that joyful morning alarm clock, which is now the main expert of my professional well-being.