My dad just told me that of all his children, he is not the most disappointed in me, but he is still very disappointed. I think its time to move out for good.
— Federico García Lorca
I’ve had such a wonderful day for no real reason apart from:
Hair in a ponytail being the right amount of tightness, egg and soldiers for breakfast (yolk perfect amount of runny), dark hot chocolate, giggles on the walk to work, talking to a sculptor about his passion for maths, enjoying watching people gesticulate while they debate instead of listening to what they say, zatar fatira for lunch at my new secret lunch spot, bead and string shopping to make my own jewellery, being asked to go for a drink by the best one and accidentally saying yes (sad day when I cancel but today its about the buzz), oranges and jaffa cakes, Alt-J, The Streets, Weezer, web coding, evening gig in the wardrobe with gin and good company, walking home in the city lit drizzle with chips and the freshness of spring wrapped round me. La la la.
In the last week I’ve been rejected from London for my PhD and thus rethought it completely as an option, found out that I was cheated on alot by K before we broke up, said goodbye to one of my best friends as she embarks on an American adventure, and decided the date I’m going to be handing my notice in.
However, I feel fucking great because I can move to any country I want, do a new job wherever I can find it, kiss whoever I please, I have incredible friends that make my heart warm, and right now I’m in London lying on Leo’s sofa after a night of Greek food long chats and lots and lots and lots of beer and have a weekend of parties and seeing heaps of people I love. Live is long if you know how to live it, as the most excellent Seneca said.