It’s been about six and a half months since I moved here¹ (although, I suppose I mean closer to five months and a quarter, since I flew home for nearly three weeks over Easter break) and I haven’t said shit except to round up a few of my favourite things from last year. Is there a reason for this other than laziness and busy-ness? Probably not.

I realised, too, that I do tend to equate the lack of “productivity” with laziness, which isn’t a good idea now that I’ve become much less sedentary than before. I am so tired all the time, but I still don’t think I do enough. Isn’t that weird? Having down time doesn’t mean you’re lazy, you knob. But at the same time, there is always something to be done, it feels like.

For the record, I am in the middle of a research masters in the general field of art, theory, and philosophy. It sounds daunting and useless (i.e. impractical, etc.)… and it is. I have been having a trying time reading the assigned texts and trying to parse everything and thinking of the theories, but I am also having—in the words of Angela Chase—A Time. A general question that people have been asking has to do with my plans after the research masters (and potential PhD, we’ll see), and I mean, that’s an understandable curiosity. But I don’t think that these avenues are really a step towards anything more practical, and most people just pursue them because they have insatiable curiosity (a.k.a. an obsessive tendency that can’t quite be tamped down). And, I realised that further studies, especially in arts and humanities, is sometimes a thing to do for itself, and not necessarily as a stepping stone for something that is a) well-paid, or b) “useful,” in the apocalyptic sense of the word. Let’s just say that if a zombie attack does happen at some point in the near future, academics are the last people you’d want on your team. Maybe. Who knows? When the world is in shambles because of zombies, let me die in a book club, honestly.

They let us do something at the Tate, if you can believe that.

Right now, I am actually probably the busiest I’ve ever been, but in the midst of the flurry of activity, I feel both a) super fucking tired, and b) more or less energised. I think I prefer this feeling over that of purposeless aimlessness (with a sprinkling of restlessness and the lack of desire to accomplish anything), which was more or less my default setting for a while.

Aside from school, I’ve been juggling some personal work (because I gotta earn dem monies), a book club (because I’m pretty fucking stupid with no sense of time and also because I’ve been meaning to read Proust anyway), a move (to an actual house! I can’t wait?), another class I signed up for (because why not), interning with some of my heroes (!!!), some health issues (hahaha), and a lot of other things I’ve decided I can’t say “no” to. Suffice to say, I sometimes feel like I am drowning, to be honest, but again, this feels more like something I’d elect for myself rather than those periods where I can’t bring myself to get out of bed. Which, embarrassingly enough, has happened to me for days on end. Even here, where I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

It’s not that lonely, although of course that doesn’t mean I don’t miss people and doggos and bidets/esperesso machines from home. I think I’ve always needed to go away to sort of find my footing. It’s a place of privilege, sure, but I haven’t felt like myself in a real long while, and despite a lot of issues surrounding this admittedly massive move, it feels really good, and I’m so happy I came here.

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¹ In case it’s not gleanable from the title, “here” is London. Yep.