by Alina Kurpel
For almost four years, I have been working at the Orthodox radio, starting from my first year at the university. It is not always easy to juggle work and studies, especially when you are striving for excellence. But from the very first days at the journalism department, we were told that real journalism cannot be learned at university—you need to work, and the earlier you start, the better. I was always afraid of being a bad student, a bad journalist, and a bad person.
Many people join the journalism department and openly declare that they are here to become famous. Graduate, end up on TV, and become celebrities—just like that. My friends and I roll our eyes when we hear something like that again. “They think it’s so easy: appear on the screen once—and they’re famous,” one of us says. But what we do not say is that we want the same thing.
Asya shares her IELTS certificate on social media. 14.06.2016.
Do you know what this means? It means that you can learn English at home, on your own! It means that in just two years, you can transform from being “that girl who can’t speak English” to possessing a fluent command of the language. It means that in two months of dedicated effort, without spending a single ruble, you can independently prepare for such a test. Ultimately, it means that I have attained an English proficiency level of C1! Now, it’s official 🙂
A dizzying success. I am on cloud nine with happiness. All that is left is to get accepted by a university and win a scholarship—and here I am in Europe, perhaps in Germany, somewhere close to you. It is so wonderful to roam the city, seeing it gleaming and blossoming.
The shop window, packed tightly with shampoos’ bottles, flashed by in an instant, when suddenly a stream of foam burst out from the shampoo store door. I should have said, “Stop, little pot,” but the scent of patchouli and cedar was so enchanting. A gigantic wave of foam lifted me up and propelled me so high that I could have ended up in a white cloud with the scent of a Saint Petersburg rain. The shampoo bottles were far below, and I should have shouted, “Stop, little pot, stop,” but the aroma of patchouli and cedar still lingered, as Frank sang too fragrantly.
© Alina Kurpel 2023-08-29