I've been wanting to blog for ages. Essentially since I've relocated to this neck of the woods again. But I've mostly been keeping my writing to myself. It's a different sort of writing, you know? I mean, this is a different sort of writing because, while a lot of it is mostly for myself, I'm also aware that I'm not the only person who's going to be reading this. I don't like to think of it as writing for an audience, but I suppose it kind of is. I'm not trying to be inspirational or entertaining. I guess sometimes I like sharing what I like in the world. Does this makes sense? Can I just move on from the meta and get on with the story? Yes, okay.
So in the Netherlands I found myself wanting to write about culture shock. Because I guess I had a bit of it this go around. I was in the Netherlands visiting Sanne in mid-August, for clarification's sake. What was weird was when I touched down at 6 in the morning and made my way through customs in the early morning grey and then sat in the train station/meeting area of Schipol, I felt normal. And I was weirded out by me feeling normal. Because here I was in a new country with a trolley stacked full of my worldly possessions. Waiting on my internet friend I've now been friends with over four years. And none of it was phasing me in the slightest. I mean, I was excited that the life I had been waiting on for months to begin was finally commencing. But usually with me there is more nerves and suppressed panic. But no. I just felt like I had a handle on things. And my calm-cool-collection weirded me out more than any of these other big things I was doing.
So I mentioned culture shock, yeah? Well I found myself a little unhappy my first couple days in the Netherlands. I think it was having to deal with unfamiliarity all the time. For example, going to shops and having to speak English was causing me terrible anxiety. And whenever Sanne and I would have to ride to town and we'd go on bikes. All those little things add up to really wind you up and make it hard to enjoy yourself. But I powered through. And I have to say that putting your head down and barreling through things, as sucky as they may be, is really the only answer to anything unpleasant in life. I'm still trying to get this in my head. I don't listen to myself, my own advice. Even though once I grit my teeth and just went through with things, my time in the NL really started to be wonderful.
And I'm still frustrated that I didn't blog everyday while I was there because Sanne and I did so many things! So much train travel and vegetarian meals and ice cream and cycling and dancing around to Childish Gambino. But I want to get on to some London stuff.
So I've moved to London. As permanently as permanent can be for a student. I've transferred to a university here as a second year, still doing the film studies thang. Also I'd like to say hello to the people I met at Summer in the City who said they read my blog. There were a couple of you, and that was just the nicest thing to be told and I thank you!
I've just been having the nicest of days. Days also really blur together here. I never know what day it is. Probably because I'm bouncing between places and don't have the structure of university upon me yet. My life just feels like one giant errand. Not in a bad way. But it just disorients you in terms of time.
For example, I can't remember if it was yesterday or the day before that Rosi and I had one of the nicest days ever. I'm thinking it was the day before because yesterday was key copying, Sainsbury's, skipping parties, Schnapps, and Kinder bueno. So on the nicest of nice days, Rosi had her stuff transported from her mum's house to our new flat. She hired one of those man-in-a-van deals, and the guy was really, really nice and helpful and didn't break the bank. And then I got an IKEA desk off of Gumtree for FREE. And it was right down the road. Actually I gave the guy a pound for his trouble of bringing it to the corner. Spreading the cheer, you know. And someone shared a song with me and it was very good and nice and I got to listen to it while sitting in the windowsill of my new room in my new flat. And earlier that day, Rosi and I went around to charity shops to look for some houseware things, and I got two bowls, a mug, and a cheese grater all for £4. And one of the shopkeepers was this grizzly old man who picked up my cheery yellow teacup and said, "This is just an empty mug! What am I supposed to charge you for this." He could have been Olivander in his rickety old shop. Okay, I'm just gushing now. But just know that things have been good. I'm good, and I hope you're good too.