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On being in-between things
It's been a crazy few weeks guys. I got my visa for Australia in late January and I'll be moving there at the end of this month; so everything has been a whirlwind trying to get things ready.
when sides align
I saw a guy last night on the tube, solving and then resetting a Rubik’s Cube, over and over again. It took him about 30 seconds to solve before he mixed the squares up and started over.
build your own room
Anger for me is a funny sort of thing. I haven't always been able to express it, identify it or even understand it. I have undoubtedly felt its effects; the sneaky way it erupts in my too-pointed sentences, or festers in my stoic silences.
lots of little things
Sometimes the week just kind of disappears, doesn’t it? I’ve been trying to focus on/ remember the little things that make me happy throughout the week; the things that seem inconsequential but when I look more closely at them, I realise that they helped me survive the week.
here's hoping for 2017
So I keep coming across the phrase 'New Year New Me', and although it's shrouded in cliche, I like what it represents. If like me you found 2016, especially the second half, to be an unconscionable beast with a mind of it's own, impacting negatively on your personal life and general view of society, the opportunity to start again is enticing as fuck.
bracing for the cold
Midnight, or 12.04am to be exact. The Piccadilly line is taking an age, and there are people scattered on the platform. I'm exhausted, in the way that's starting to feel more and more like London.
never on time
Don't talk to me about doing things on time. I haven't updated this blog for a month and I'd like to pretend that it’s been intentional, but really time has just gotten away from me. It's been doing that a lot lately.
the shark
"Home is where the heart is."
I have always struggled with this phrase. It sounds simple enough but actually, I'm not sure it means anything more than "Home is where you like to sleep", or "Home is where the person you like, likes to sleep"; but that sounds a bit like the mantra of a stalker, so maybe it's not quite as simple as that.
11.40pm
It’s 11.40pm. I’ve been circling my living room for the past ten minutes, humming the same tune over and over again, with a bottle of whiskey perched casually under my arm. The pacing is self-soothing, as is the humming.