'I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does.'
So London is a funny place.
We spend our whole lives trying to connect.
Whether that connection is to our goals, to our definition
of success, to our friends, families or romantic partnerships. We are all
trying to connect, to attach to something. To belong. To have ties to something
or someone we can be-long with.
Actually in psychiatry / psychology, if a tiny human doesn’t
form an attachment with those who raise them, they are in for a little bit of
trouble.
I must tell you, moving to the other side of the world is
very refreshing. Starting again, seeing the world like a baby, but also effort is required to make
new attachments.
I don’t know about you, I am always looking for connection.
Whether it’s the guy in the dairy, my managers, new cool friends or my
hairdresser.
A bit like this (you'd be surprised how many memes on the web cover this):
I look at the people I interact with in the eye and I am
always up for a chat. With most.
I’m trying to crack this London egg. And I am, cracking
these bastards one at a time. Sounds very psychopathic, lol. Let’s call it getting
people to open up, haha.
There are people in my new job who are fond of me, my new
housemate is fond of me, my AirBnB hosts have been fond of me.
Or is it I who is fond of them? I’m not always great at
telling the difference.
There’s been a few hugs (platonic!) let’s just put it that
way.
The point of this post is that mostly it’s been harder to
crack that London egg.
So many grumpy people here. And who can blame them? This
city is huge, it’s more than rough for more than a few people.
So very grateful it is not rough, on the scale of things,
for me.
The fact that I have time to blog and moan about First World
Problems is testament to this.
But on the street, in the dairy and crowded spaces…. You
think going ten floors underground in a packed tube for over thirty minutes is
natural for human beings?! Probably not. Have you heard about black snot? Let’s
not go there.
There is this slightly mean culture in the politest city on
earth. Like when no one cares how they act when no one’s looking. No social graces
to honour. I know this happens everywhere, but those people who take two seats
(one for each butt cheek and maybe a third for their bag) on public transport,
for example.
A work culture where people would rather please you at the
time than honour what they promise you.
Disclaimer: I do not have experience of this in my current
workplace (yet). This is the word of other expats.
For me, the proof is in the pudding. Judge people by what
they do, not just by what they say.
Again, back to project management, a healthy project should
be very action-oriented. With a plan.
If you have a dream, always follow with the word plan.
Don’t be fooled by my travels, I may be living a dream, but
are dreams always sensible?
If I travel, it’s harder, yet more
fulfilling, to be in a new city and have all this reconfiguration to do.
Many people who I have managed to connect with have said
‘wow I could never do that, travel alone.’ As if I’m being brave or something.
I’m not brave I’m just curious.
You’ll have to excuse these monologues. Maybe this post is
dreary, but the experience I am having is one of feeling like I am on to
something very good.
Thank you for reading.
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