Sorry it’s been a while. I really don’t know what to say. My idea for these ‘journal’ entries was originally on the basis of frequent posts. Maybe I can blame these hectic last few weeks, my trip to Prague (poems + pictures to come) or the fact I have recently moved to London for a period.
I’m never sure if I like the idea of frequency, consecutive pieces rolling on and on throughout the week, or a more relaxed, mercurial approach to writing on this blog. The analytic part of me says “Hey, if you want the viewers to see your work, to read it often, you must write often” and I agree wholeheartedly. Another part of me says, “Yo, you do you. Take time off when you need it, art doesn’t have to be produced daily. Is it art if it constantly flies off of the assembly line?”. I guess one thing I’ve learnt is that whatever you choose to do, you can never be truly satisfied.
I don’t think true, full satisfaction even exists, but that’s ok.
In my hometown I was a bit depressed. Nothing you could diagnose, nothing you’d need medication for. I’d never compare what I feel every now and then to people who struggle with that illness. Yet with any moment of depression, all thoughts of work go out the window. I guess it was because I was in a job where I was wasting myself, and my days blended into each other, and were over fast, so that I could never get anything done. You adjust to things after a few months and get tired of them, so changing things around to gain fresh horizons and perspectives is such a breath of fresh air.
My change came in the form of two things: 1) I went on a trip to Prague with a bunch of very good friends who I’d not seen in a while, and it rejuvenated me. 2) I recently got an internship at a travel writing magazine based in London, and although it wasn’t financially beneficial to me, I moved down there to do it regardless (experience > money). I’m here now, writing at my new desk in my tiny little blip of a room in a house full of people I haven’t met yet, but I’m happy.
I’ve been living off cereal for the past three days, as I’ve had nothing to cook with and all I have wanted to do is stay in my room. Even though I’m happy in this new stretch of my life, I’m a little scared. London man! Big and beautiful and fucking frightening. All I’ve ever known is a small northern town, and then Lancaster, which compared to London is still a small northern town.
It takes a few days to adjust, but I’m getting there. Plus I’ve been very tired since I moved in the day after getting back from Prague, and started work the day after that, and my diet has been poor and my feet are sore and I know no one in my area.
This bothers me, and doesn’t bother me, which I guess means lack of comfort or unease or annoyance come on different levels, the types you can brush off, and the types that hit you directly in the chest. Humans learn to deal with both. S’all part of life innit.
Changes are inherently good and bad simultaneously. They throw you into miraculous situations where you have no clue what to do. For example, I’ve been learning about tube lines and times and destinations since coming to London, and it’s exciting. I’m afraid of getting the wrong train, and I’m afraid of running out of money, and I don’t like how nobody speaks to each other, but yesterday as my train home was on the overground section of its journey, the sun was setting behind the roofs of houses which were on eye-level, and the chimneys and washing lines and antennas stood pitch black against the evening caramel Sun, and it was beautiful to watch as I passed. It may look odd to a Londoner, a lone man smiling to himself on the train as he looks out the window, but I guess they’ll have to get used to it.
Moral of this journal entry is embrace changes. There is beauty in variety. There is strength in being terrified.