I came home unemployed again, I was getting so tired of all this, when would it end? Will I find a job someday that suits me, or is that just impossible? I found the phone number for the foreign company in Kazakhstan and called them up. I explained that I realized six months had gone by but if the vacancy was still there then I was ready to fly tomorrow. They told me they were very glad I’d called because in those six months they hadn’t found anyone. I took the interview, joined the company and flew out.

It was a foreign project, in English with proper foreign standards. I spent several months trying to hack my way through those standards. Then, once I had figured it all out, I was given instructions to build a ship and had to hack my way through from the beginning again—the standards in shipbuilding are different. There were different materials, high pressure pipelines, low pressure pipelines, nickel alloys, copper alloys, stainless steels and so on. I started getting through it faster and faster, and finally I realized I could work in any country in the world now and no longer had to depend on Russia.

You had to work seventy-five days at the base and then you would get twenty-one days off, the nearest town was seventy kilometers away. You could go there on Saturday night or Sunday. I went there a couple of times, rented a room at a hotel, drank beer and tried to find a girl, but it didn’t work out. As a result, I became tired of the whole thing and started reading books and watching movies after work, that’s how I passed those seventy-five days.

I got the feeling that my whole life was passing me by, and that frustration started again. I started thinking it was time for me to throw myself off a roof or hang myself—drown myself—but I was scared.

They were leasing the building in the suburbs where I had bought an apartment and I asked my mother to find some people to make repairs on the place, I wouldn’t have time with my twenty-one days off.

My relationship with Kristina came to an end, and then started again, it was clear that we wouldn’t live together. I went to see her for the umpteenth time: we spent the evening together drinking wine and in the morning we got my things together to go back on the project. We stuffed seventy-five boxes of different discs into a suitcase, and they wouldn’t go. We started opening the boxes and put the discs into cases.

Kristina’s daughter looked at us and from out of nowhere she brought out Vadim Zeland’s audiobook, Reality Transurfing. I took the disc with me.

I flew to Kazakhstan and made my way through all the discs, there was only Transurfing left. I put it on, and really liked it. The recording was professionally made, the music played, the speaker read the text, I listened to it twice.

Transurfing proposes the following technique: create a “slide” of what you want to achieve—but there should be no great desire or importance attached to the event or else it won’t happen. I bought all Vadim Zeland’s books and audiobooks and started studying them.

I opened up a page on a dating site and started to get to know some women from Moscow. One of the girls on this page used the phrase, “If you want to have something you never had before, start doing something you never did before.”

I sat down with a sheet of paper and made a description of the type of woman I normally ended up with before I’d start having problems with her: a lady of around thirty-five, divorced, has children, further education, is hysterical.

I took another sheet of paper and wrote: a lady under thirty, never married, no children, no further education, not hysterical.

I flew to Moscow, met Nadia, she meets all the criteria from my slide, but there is something missing from her, or the opposite—something unwanted.

I took a holiday in Turkey and invited her to come with me. She flew over and I realized I hadn’t put enough detail on that slide, Nadia was too greedy.

The repairs on my studio apartment were finished. I flew back from Turkey, went into the apartment, there had been no time to buy furniture or anything else, I’d do that another time. All that was left in the apartment were some empty cardboard boxes.