Thoughts from the Box Room
So I'm sitting in my tiny box of a room.The Holloway Road traffic is dashing past, muffled by the walls, and I'm thinking, "Damn, I really should write a blog post. But I have nothing to write about."
Which isn't true, but my life is so busy right now that my ability to put my thoughts into coherent prose seems to have limped away like a wounded gazelle to die and be pecked at by vultures.
But in this brief moment of clarity, I have picked up my laptop to write about what is on my mind right now:
Living in London.
London's a bit of an oxymoron. On the one hand, it is a cultural melting pot; there's theatre, art, music, dance, opera, museums and galleries. There are bookshops with coffee shops and tables inside so you can sit and read. There are buskers everywhere, from musicians and living statues to circus artists and street dance crews. And there are loads of parks and gardens that are open to the public.
But on the other hand, living here feels like the fabled "rat race" a lot of the time. I get irritated by the smallest interruptions to my otherwise seamless morning commute. My days, even when I'm not in college, go by in a blur. And when I'm alone I feel isolated, disconnected from the millions of people around me.
I love living in a city that has so much going on and I can't wait to have time to explore it. But the longer I'm here, the more I feel, bizarrely, like a tourist - I don't feel like I "own" this city like I did in Southampton, or back home in Medway. And, for the moment, I can't figure out how to change that feeling.
Maybe I just need a little more time. Or a less boxy living situation.