op de fiets door de stad, in de regen, met een glimlach. want geluk. en de lichtjes in het donker, de studenten aan de tafels buiten, drankjes in hun handen en gelach over hun lippen. de geur van sigarettenrook en liefde. en ik was blij, want ik fietste daar, tussen de lichtjes en de lachende mensen, door het dikke gordijn van regen dat zo vrolijk tegen de stenen kletterde en door mijn kleren sijpelde. het maakte me allemaal niets uit, met spieren nog warm en moe van het dansen en muziek in mijn oren. de hoge gebouwen verderop en de voorbijrazende auto's met koplampen die wel kampvuren leken. knusse huisjes, zo hoog en smal en lief.

die groene bossen zijn mooi, het gevoel van rust met de geur van jonge natuur en drassige grond, maar dit. dit is stadsliefde waar ik nu warm van wordt.

this is currently the background on my phone.

i had a really lovely weekend not too long ago, and i tend to cling to those kind of things. especially when the future doesn't seem particularly bright and happy, i'll usually want to either stay in the past, or go back it. those moments where i was blissfully happy for whatever reason. i could say 'well, and that's no way to live', but it is a way to live, it's just not the way i want to live. it makes me unhappy, because it's such a hopeless longing. that moment is never going to come back. there's no fun in wishing for it to return, all it does is cause sadness to bloom inside me.

so. i read that. the there are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind. and it relaxed me a little bit. i'm learning to let it go. it makes me feel better, like i can breathe a sigh of relief. even if what the future holds are not things that are actually better, they're still good things. there are good things ahead.

and really, i should remember that all we have is now anyway. now. now. now. now. now. now.

now.

“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.’”

—	Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country

i am happy. yesterday was beautiful. today is beautiful. tonight will be beautiful. i feel good.

&life;

are you just waiting, or are you really, really listening?

everytime someone asks me "do you still live at home?" i feel embarrassed saying "yes, i do." i'm twenty-two and it seems like i should've moved out a good while ago, but i haven't.

so here's the deal: i'm going to.

my friend found a place in the city, a floor with a tiny little bathroom, a kitchen and two bedrooms. with him in one bedroom, he asked me if i wanted the other one. the whole idea sounded appealing enough for me to tell him i was interested, and after a look around i was sure i was in. on the top floor are another two rooms in which we can dry our laundry or maybe, if they're lenient enough, make a shared living room. overall it seems quite wonderful.

my room is small, but has tall windows with low windowsills, so i'll be able to sit in them with a leg dangling out - something i love doing. it has a little nook in which i can place my bed and a view on trees and someone's roof terrace. and our shared little home is in a really pleasant, lively neighbourhood in which i'll be able to buy lots of cheap fruit and vegetables from lovely moroccan or turkish men. i've already had a dream in which i was doing just that.

on wednesday i'm getting the key.

i'm excited and happy. life is moving again.

four days of london with three girls and one bag of stuff.

there's so much and so little to say, and i'm struggling wildly to find the words. four days of fatigue would describe the general feeling best, i'd say. that's not to say there weren't any wonderful moments. that's not to say this wasn't a lesson in the principle of acceptance, and how that's rarely a bad thing. besides, i always kind of knew it was going to be like this. i knew what i signed up for.

so, i'll talk about the good things, since those are the things we all like to hear and remember.


( the first lunch... )