(no subject)
So 2013 is here. And I am sort of indifferent to it. There is nothing in 2013 that I can look forward to. Nothing. I am moved out, and (technically) employed, not quite earning but definitely getting somewhere. I have friends, and am making new ones while I'm working in more ways of seeing the old ones. I am finally proud of myself, and positive about my future. Except there's nothing exciting about 2013. It's either more of the same, or less of the same. My cousin is expecting a baby, but I doubt it is going to be super exciting when I hardly see him anyway. It's all a damp squib after the joy that was the Diamond Jubilee, the Olympics and the best summer of my life.
[more]Whilst we were walking along the Southbank, I pointed this out to a friend. I was so sad to see 2012 go; what is there to hope for in 2013?
He couldn't help but see the positives, and spoke of how I was in for a year of knowing where I stood, and the number of times you get that are rare. I hopefully wouldn't have to move jobs; I knew where I was living and my self-confidence wasn't taking a knocking everyday; my networks were developing and I could see a list of my own contacts ahead of me. It was all good.
The only thing he thought I should do, was improve and grow my friendships. At first, I was surprised. In London for less than a year and I have people - friends - to go out with several times each week, if I want to, not to mention the people I work, live, and practice Tai Chi. Starting from nothing, I had found friends, I had found friendly people, and I had a social life that had been different from anything before. "I can't go any faster!" I wanted to tell him. I don't trust others easily, and I'm not going to rush it. There's not much of a love life for me, but I tell myself that will come when I'm ready (and I don't think I am yet, tbh); otherwise I am happy and things are great.
But I asked him what he meant, nevertheless, because input from friends is always worth understanding.
He erred for a moment. "Do you want to stay in London?" he asked.
"Well, I don't want to go home," I answered. "I could probably live anywhere, as long as there were some things to do and work for me, but going home would be a backwards step."
"So let's take it that - providing you get paid work and that looks likely - you'll be in London at least for this year."
"Ok?"
"So you need to have people who are there for you..."
I thought about the mental list I constantly bear in mind entitled, "People who would be there in an emergency, whatever the cost to themselves." He's on it.
"I do."
"I mean, here." he indicated.
It sounds naiive, but what he'd alerted me to was something I hadn't considered before. It was a brand new concept.
I've rarely moved house - in fact I never moved before going to university, which I'm not sure really counts, and even now it wouldn't be far out to suggest my family home acts as a "base" - and this is the first time I've had to find some people that I like to spend my time with, without having any means of specifying the pool in which I find them, like in University or School. I have friends here, and people I'm on friendly terms with, but where are my Friends? In that moment, I understood what he was talking about.
"You mean, Bridget Jones Stylee?" (And yes I actually say 'stylee'.)
He was in the middle of trying to elaborate more, but stopped to confirmedly agree.
I thought about Bridget Jones for a bit. There she is in this pokey flat, not sure where her job or life is going, and annoyed at her parents for being a bit pushy, but whatever happens, whatever the weather, she's got her friends.
My family have never lived around the corner, and moving away from uni never affected my relationships with my school friends, so it's not surprising that I'd never thought about making really good friends more conveniently close to my living arrangements. Now he'd noticed it, I couldn't help noticing it too. I depend on my friends everyday, to stop me going insane and to keep my heart warm (I'm a hufflepuff, we run on friendship) and yet while I had several really good friends across 4 different counties, none of those included places that could have been listed under the heading "close enough to have a coffee with me at lunchtime" or "can make arrangements for the evening on the day". Of course when we're in the same places we do these things, but we have to arrange these things, often weeks in advance.
I'd realised that all my friends lived a distance from me last year, and had felt the consequences of having to make all those arrangements. But I've never considered the other side of things - that maybe I should make better friends closer to home as well.
The thing is, that I can't stop thinking about this. Where does one find best friends? What happens if I can't? Should I try? Should I just try to be happy with the way things are? Wouldn't it be good if I did have someone in London like that?
It made me understand a few things. I have people who (I think) look out for me, but who is there to come round to see if I'm ok or suggest a film? I end up having a lot of fun, but wouldn't it be nicer to not have to tag along to other people's events all the time? Where are the people who I can be sure will definitely want to do something with me? Where are the people who I can feel entirely comfortable and cosy with? If something happened, whose sofa would be closest?
I just can't stop thinking about this bloody hole in my life. It'd be nice to not be lonely.
[more]Whilst we were walking along the Southbank, I pointed this out to a friend. I was so sad to see 2012 go; what is there to hope for in 2013?
He couldn't help but see the positives, and spoke of how I was in for a year of knowing where I stood, and the number of times you get that are rare. I hopefully wouldn't have to move jobs; I knew where I was living and my self-confidence wasn't taking a knocking everyday; my networks were developing and I could see a list of my own contacts ahead of me. It was all good.
The only thing he thought I should do, was improve and grow my friendships. At first, I was surprised. In London for less than a year and I have people - friends - to go out with several times each week, if I want to, not to mention the people I work, live, and practice Tai Chi. Starting from nothing, I had found friends, I had found friendly people, and I had a social life that had been different from anything before. "I can't go any faster!" I wanted to tell him. I don't trust others easily, and I'm not going to rush it. There's not much of a love life for me, but I tell myself that will come when I'm ready (and I don't think I am yet, tbh); otherwise I am happy and things are great.
But I asked him what he meant, nevertheless, because input from friends is always worth understanding.
He erred for a moment. "Do you want to stay in London?" he asked.
"Well, I don't want to go home," I answered. "I could probably live anywhere, as long as there were some things to do and work for me, but going home would be a backwards step."
"So let's take it that - providing you get paid work and that looks likely - you'll be in London at least for this year."
"Ok?"
"So you need to have people who are there for you..."
I thought about the mental list I constantly bear in mind entitled, "People who would be there in an emergency, whatever the cost to themselves." He's on it.
"I do."
"I mean, here." he indicated.
It sounds naiive, but what he'd alerted me to was something I hadn't considered before. It was a brand new concept.
I've rarely moved house - in fact I never moved before going to university, which I'm not sure really counts, and even now it wouldn't be far out to suggest my family home acts as a "base" - and this is the first time I've had to find some people that I like to spend my time with, without having any means of specifying the pool in which I find them, like in University or School. I have friends here, and people I'm on friendly terms with, but where are my Friends? In that moment, I understood what he was talking about.
"You mean, Bridget Jones Stylee?" (And yes I actually say 'stylee'.)
He was in the middle of trying to elaborate more, but stopped to confirmedly agree.
I thought about Bridget Jones for a bit. There she is in this pokey flat, not sure where her job or life is going, and annoyed at her parents for being a bit pushy, but whatever happens, whatever the weather, she's got her friends.
My family have never lived around the corner, and moving away from uni never affected my relationships with my school friends, so it's not surprising that I'd never thought about making really good friends more conveniently close to my living arrangements. Now he'd noticed it, I couldn't help noticing it too. I depend on my friends everyday, to stop me going insane and to keep my heart warm (I'm a hufflepuff, we run on friendship) and yet while I had several really good friends across 4 different counties, none of those included places that could have been listed under the heading "close enough to have a coffee with me at lunchtime" or "can make arrangements for the evening on the day". Of course when we're in the same places we do these things, but we have to arrange these things, often weeks in advance.
I'd realised that all my friends lived a distance from me last year, and had felt the consequences of having to make all those arrangements. But I've never considered the other side of things - that maybe I should make better friends closer to home as well.
The thing is, that I can't stop thinking about this. Where does one find best friends? What happens if I can't? Should I try? Should I just try to be happy with the way things are? Wouldn't it be good if I did have someone in London like that?
It made me understand a few things. I have people who (I think) look out for me, but who is there to come round to see if I'm ok or suggest a film? I end up having a lot of fun, but wouldn't it be nicer to not have to tag along to other people's events all the time? Where are the people who I can be sure will definitely want to do something with me? Where are the people who I can feel entirely comfortable and cosy with? If something happened, whose sofa would be closest?
I just can't stop thinking about this bloody hole in my life. It'd be nice to not be lonely.