*brrrr.

Winter, after much delay, has finally arrived in KZ. We had an unusually prolonged autumn this year, with temperatures hovering around freezing and no snow up until last week. But the snow has at last fallen, and the temperature is a frosty -15C. I find that there's a direct correlation between the temperature outside and my desire to venture out of doors. The colder it is, the harder it is for me to make myself go outside. Due to this total lack of desire to spend extended periods of time outside, I've had to find things to divert myself when sitting about at home. I've been reading plenty of books (I've now begun my foray into Russian literature, in baby steps: I started with Chekhov's short stories, now I'm onto Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, after which I'll tackle Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov. War and Peace will just have to wait for another winter.), doing several Sudoku puzzles daily, and have recently resumed teaching myself the guitar.
My fingertips, which haven't developed thick enough calluses, are in pain. My hand, not yet adjusted to forming chords, is cramped. But I am making progress. The only trouble is I'm not sure if the poor quality of music I'm producing is due to my amateur skills or due to my guitar itself. I inherited this guitar from my host sister, who got a new one for her birthday last February. This guitar, made in 1983, is older than I am. There is a pencil wedged between the body of the guitar and the neck so that the neck won't totally collapse. Let's just say the quality of this instrument leaves much to be desired. Nevertheless, despite its battered state and the forever out of tune sound it produces, I'm enjoying learning new chords and new songs. And when I get my hands on a proper guitar, one that doesn't have a pencil in it, perhaps I'll be able to hear how I actually play.
(Note: Isn't this the perfect excuse, though? Blame the crappy guitar. I don't totally suck, it's the guitar...)