So... I guess I'd better put this up and tell everyone, now. Not least because naranek will let the cat out of the bag for me when he advertises my job, if I don't get a wiggle on here
( Read more... )
It's... a mixture of things, really. Partly the simple fact that I am Northern born and I have never, in a decade, gotten used to the lack of hills and rocks and heather and cliffs and sea and everything else I grew up climbing on/sitting in/living among. And partly that I just think there's something toxic in the psychic atmosphere of the place - we used to joke about there being a Great Old One buried under the market square, but seriously, I've never known anywhere that had a higher density of inexplicable misery and mental suffering than Cambridge seems to. Weird though it sounds I literally feel better, mentally, every time I get out of the city limits, and I'm kind of sick of only feeling that way a few times a year!
Also, there's the purely practical fact that this city is stupidly expensive, touristy and overcrowded and I'm sick of never being able to buy anything for a reasonable price. (Admittedly Whitby is a tourist town too, but it's cheaper and scruffier and much more down to earth, and I'm far more comfortable in places like that...)
Ah, fair enough. I do occasionally get the need (rather than desire) to be somewhere wild and made of solid stone, rather than of swamp. I'd probably be happier if I managed it more often, but I think I'd probably also be miserable about leaving Cambridge forever.
As for mental health... I will take your word for it: Zurich is the only place other than Cambridge that I've lived, and I'm not exactly getting to know many people, and my view of Cambridge is coloured by the fact that I spent most of secondary school here thoroughly miserable, and only started cheering up once I got to sixth form, so.
The touristy does get to me, yes, but the place is so thoroughly Mine that... well. The people are, by and large, and unwelcome distraction from my libraries and my architecture and my hidden corners, and the tourists only slightly more so than anyone else.
Eh. I got a five-words-meme prompt to write about Cambridge. I should get around to that and write about my love affair with my town somewhere other than here. :p (And no, I'm not taking it personally or being upset - it is good to know the bad, too!)
*nodnods* If it means that much to you, I completely understand that. It's just that I have never been anything but an outsider here, and the places that feel that way to me are hundreds of miles away - Bradford, Scarborough, Whitby, Leeds, Halifax, Huddersfield, all the dirty grimy industrial towns and the old fishing ports - plenty of people think the North is fookin' 'orrible, but it's home to me. *s*
Everyone has Their Place. I know Cambridge is it for some people - just not for me...
Mrmm. Likewise nod. I am, obviously, going to be sorry to see you go, but I completely understand the need to be at home and, well, congratulations to you for having it so nearly sorted, and the best of luck.
And, FWIW, I certainly don't think the North is horrible, and would love to come and visit you, if I'd be allowed to. :)
And partly that I just think there's something toxic in the psychic atmosphere of the place - we used to joke about there being a Great Old One buried under the market square, but seriously, I've never known anywhere that had a higher density of inexplicable misery and mental suffering than Cambridge seems to.
...
Also, there's the purely practical fact that this city is stupidly expensive, touristy and overcrowded and I'm sick of never being able to buy anything for a reasonable price.
Yeah. I love the place myself, but I doubt I could afford to live there without leeching off my parents' money and the weather doesn't seem conducive to my mental health nine months out of the year.
Amen to all of that. If I stay in this horrible hellhole for much longer, it *is* going to kill me and I don't want that.
Every time I get out of it I start feeling better (as in I am not hideously stressed, don't throw up before leaving the house because I'm scared as to what I'll encounter) and then when I return everything goes downhill again.
People have actually seen me *happy* when I'm not in Cambridge ...
It's... a mixture of things, really. Partly the simple fact that I am Northern born and I have never, in a decade, gotten used to the lack of hills and rocks and heather and cliffs and sea and everything else I grew up climbing on/sitting in/living among. And partly that I just think there's something toxic in the psychic atmosphere of the place - we used to joke about there being a Great Old One buried under the market square, but seriously, I've never known anywhere that had a higher density of inexplicable misery and mental suffering than Cambridge seems to. Weird though it sounds I literally feel better, mentally, every time I get out of the city limits, and I'm kind of sick of only feeling that way a few times a year!
Also, there's the purely practical fact that this city is stupidly expensive, touristy and overcrowded and I'm sick of never being able to buy anything for a reasonable price. (Admittedly Whitby is a tourist town too, but it's cheaper and scruffier and much more down to earth, and I'm far more comfortable in places like that...)
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Ah, fair enough. I do occasionally get the need (rather than desire) to be somewhere wild and made of solid stone, rather than of swamp. I'd probably be happier if I managed it more often, but I think I'd probably also be miserable about leaving Cambridge forever.
As for mental health... I will take your word for it: Zurich is the only place other than Cambridge that I've lived, and I'm not exactly getting to know many people, and my view of Cambridge is coloured by the fact that I spent most of secondary school here thoroughly miserable, and only started cheering up once I got to sixth form, so.
The touristy does get to me, yes, but the place is so thoroughly Mine that... well. The people are, by and large, and unwelcome distraction from my libraries and my architecture and my hidden corners, and the tourists only slightly more so than anyone else.
Eh. I got a five-words-meme prompt to write about Cambridge. I should get around to that and write about my love affair with my town somewhere other than here. :p (And no, I'm not taking it personally or being upset - it is good to know the bad, too!)
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Everyone has Their Place. I know Cambridge is it for some people - just not for me...
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And, FWIW, I certainly don't think the North is horrible, and would love to come and visit you, if I'd be allowed to. :)
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And partly that I just think there's something toxic in the psychic atmosphere of the place - we used to joke about there being a Great Old One buried under the market square, but seriously, I've never known anywhere that had a higher density of inexplicable misery and mental suffering than Cambridge seems to.
...
Also, there's the purely practical fact that this city is stupidly expensive, touristy and overcrowded and I'm sick of never being able to buy anything for a reasonable price.
Yeah. I love the place myself, but I doubt I could afford to live there without leeching off my parents' money and the weather doesn't seem conducive to my mental health nine months out of the year.
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Every time I get out of it I start feeling better (as in I am not hideously stressed, don't throw up before leaving the house because I'm scared as to what I'll encounter) and then when I return everything goes downhill again.
People have actually seen me *happy* when I'm not in Cambridge ...
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