Hi hello and goodbye for now. This is the last post on this blog for a while, at least for a year, as I’ve moved to the Great Down Under, so you can follow my adventures on my new blog The Melbourne Diaries!
It’s 11pm and you’re still in the office. By your count you’ve worked at least 50 hours this week and it’s only Thursday. You’ve been working on a big piece of work, it’s important, you feel like you’ve put your blood, sweat and tears into it, trying to ready it for a presentation to the boss. But you already know you’ve wasted your time.
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. Of course, I wanted to document everything, write something interesting about how I felt etc, etc, but I couldn’t seem to muster anything worth reading. And I’m not even sure this meets that quota, but we’ll see.
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. He never looked at the cube for longer than a few seconds, and it seemed that the task had merely become one of dexterity practice. I watched him from the other side of the carriage and thought “huh.” I had seen two other men doing the exact same thing in the last month, on the tube, late at night. Is that weird, does it mean something, or both?
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. Yes I am familiar with it but I haven’t always embraced it, which I think most of us could do more of.
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. However, my memory is not what it once was, so I must dig deep to pull out some positive treasure.
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.
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. I wonder what I’m doing out here, at night alone, doing a mediocre impression of a mole. Bruno Mars tells me to raise my pinky in the air but only if I’m a player. I am not.
“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.