When A Woman Is In Love With London...
...she's in love with life itself.
I have been sleepwalking through the past few months. Long, boring days filled with nothing but repetition and unhappiness. And as I sat down in the classroom, and opened my notebook and looked expectantly towards the lecturer, I suddenly felt myself waking up. A part of my brain that had lain unused for too long. That dormant curiosity, that relentless intellectual longing for more information, more discussion, more *discourse*.
By lunchtime, as I sat in cafe in Holborn with a Buddhist painter, discussing spiral symbolism and labyrinths in the archetypal symbolism of C.G. Jung, I suddenly thought "Hang on, there *is* a place for me. There is a place for people *like* me - and it's called a University."
I signed up for a course at City Lit, for no other reason than I was interested in the subject. Mythical and Legendary London - combining two of my great loves, esoteric lore and the Psychogeography of my hometown. Within ten minutes, the lecturer had mentioned Nigel Kneale's Stone Tape, T.C. Lethbridge, Geoffrey of Monmouth and Alfred Watkins. I was sitting forward in my seat, eyes wide open, scribbling away taking notes, mind racing - not with mania or illness, but with the sheer joy of learning.
The petty feuding of the past few weeks simply evaporated, utterly unimportant. Surrounded by people who don't think it's "weird" to learn, to question, to dream, to wonder... I experienced something I haven't felt in I don't know how long. The sense of being in the *right* place. Sod everything that turned me off University the first few times round - the barriers to entry, the test-taking, the ivory tower mentality - actually, sod it. Right now an Ivory Tower seems like a pretty dream. Learning just for the simple joy of finding stuff out.
I'm hooked, and I'm going back - I've found a reason to keep living.
I have been sleepwalking through the past few months. Long, boring days filled with nothing but repetition and unhappiness. And as I sat down in the classroom, and opened my notebook and looked expectantly towards the lecturer, I suddenly felt myself waking up. A part of my brain that had lain unused for too long. That dormant curiosity, that relentless intellectual longing for more information, more discussion, more *discourse*.
By lunchtime, as I sat in cafe in Holborn with a Buddhist painter, discussing spiral symbolism and labyrinths in the archetypal symbolism of C.G. Jung, I suddenly thought "Hang on, there *is* a place for me. There is a place for people *like* me - and it's called a University."
I signed up for a course at City Lit, for no other reason than I was interested in the subject. Mythical and Legendary London - combining two of my great loves, esoteric lore and the Psychogeography of my hometown. Within ten minutes, the lecturer had mentioned Nigel Kneale's Stone Tape, T.C. Lethbridge, Geoffrey of Monmouth and Alfred Watkins. I was sitting forward in my seat, eyes wide open, scribbling away taking notes, mind racing - not with mania or illness, but with the sheer joy of learning.
The petty feuding of the past few weeks simply evaporated, utterly unimportant. Surrounded by people who don't think it's "weird" to learn, to question, to dream, to wonder... I experienced something I haven't felt in I don't know how long. The sense of being in the *right* place. Sod everything that turned me off University the first few times round - the barriers to entry, the test-taking, the ivory tower mentality - actually, sod it. Right now an Ivory Tower seems like a pretty dream. Learning just for the simple joy of finding stuff out.
I'm hooked, and I'm going back - I've found a reason to keep living.
posted by Masonic Boom | 10:03 pm
3 Comments:
Hooray! I am also in love with London at the moment. Though some of this is due to seeing through another's eyes.
yay! glad to see some happiness there :)
that's funny how I've been looking @ my diary and found out that 90% of stuff I wrote there is sad...about depression...about bullshit that's going on in my mind.
and you know what I did? I decided to BURN it...why? because, diary is *supposed* to remind you of good things? of progression? I mean, I don't want to remember sad times, just the good times. And everytime I was reading it, I was thinking to myself, 'hey, you, what the F*CK is wrong with you?'.
since two weeks I am actually happy, because - similar to you - I've found *something* that's cheering me up.
I am doing what I love now...sharing my interests with people who understand me, who don't tell me to *change* or say that they're more important things than your dreams, or needs, or even feelings...and that's not true! because if you're doing something what is not giving you satisfaction, and the day after day after day after day is the same, and boring, and exhausting...all you want to do is shoot yourself in the head.
Life is short, you gotta follow your dreams, fight against the ones who say you're worth nothing.
It may be hard, but it's the only way to joy...
so, keep your head up darling, from now everything's gonna be fine :) you just gotta believe it!
xx
Aw, I'm glad that you've found something to engage with that is making you happy. You're so absolutely right, there is no point in continuing to bash your head against people who don't understand you or try to force you to change.
I wouldn't burn my diaries, even when they are negative - because it's so good to write, and get your negativity out of you. So long as you don't dwell on it, it's a good way to work through the things that are troubling you. Plus, you'd be surprised. I have kept diaries through some of the worst times in my life - but sometimes going back and reading just how unhappy and depressed I was then makes me realise just how *far* I have come now. Progression can sometimes be so slow you don't realise it's happened until you look back from a distance.
Anyway, hugs, and thank you so much for saying this.
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