You see . . .

There's not a lot I have to say really. No I guess I should re-word that. There's not a lot I can say. That's part of the problem with a blog, unlike a personal, physical journal, it's something the world has access to. Mind you, past experiences show me that this too can happen with a real journal -you know who you are.

Point being I feel like talking. Not really to anyone in particular mind you, just talking. Trying to give method to the madness that rolls around in my mind every once in a while. Its like suddenly I've tuned into three different radio stations at the same time, one is playing loud banging music, one is static and one is a bunch of adverts. All different pitches, but all just pounding out at me. Makes it sound like I've little people in my head, banging on the inside of my skull. Which then makes me sound like I have multiple personalities. I do not.

Its just that sometimes talking something out makes more sense. Makes things seem real and plausable and practical. Not that there is any one thing bothing me, rather a few different things that sometimes I need someone else to talk to about to get their point of view. To make sure I"m not mad, or being dramatic or jumping the gun. I suppose I'm not really making all that much sense. In the grand scheme of things I am fine, rest assured its sunny outside and I feel happy. Which I have to add is nice, the past three days have been wonderful sunny, spring days and we're supposed to have a few more. This is the kind of weather I have missed. I rather enjoy it.

I've been reading much more lately. Laid off the writing part and decided to indulge in the work of others. Usually it creates this response, because I will have read something which has made me think about something in a different way. Then I'll have a conversation which then turns around what it is I've read. Like I don't have enough on my mind!! What I was driving to (man I miss that) was that in the choice to read much more (and varied at that) I have to be prepared to want to talk more. To think more. To verbally trace those very patterns. Only I wasn't quite prepared this time.

I've also realised I've used a whole bunch of words to really say nothing at all. What a bore I am.

During the week I placed my passport and Aussie drivers licence in an envelope and posted it away. That's right, I'm getting a UK drivers license. Which really I should have made a much more memorable moment. That was the last time I was to touch my first, full driving licence!! Such memories!! However in light that its shortly to expire and the notion that this summer I want to do a little driving, its time to let go of the old and welcome the new!! All I pray is that my passport comes back in one piece. Such a tight bond I have with that little book.

The other thing which happened during the week was the oh so close, but not quite, light at the end of the tunnel. I was offered a job! However, it was only a temp job and not a position I'd initially applied for. The idea is to take on a job that will provide me with a better income, not a lesser one! At the time I'd used the term 'job stability' but in light of recent times, I'm not even sure thats applicable any more. But yes, for a moment there I was very excited! Alas, nothing changes though. On and on I shall go until the next glimmer shows itself. At least I have a job, right? For that, if nothing else, I should be thankful. Well that and a few other things which again I need not go into where all the world can see.

Hmmm I think I am getting hungry. Tonight I am cooking Mexican.

Essence

Every once in a while I need to be reminded why it is, of all the cities in all the world, that I've chosen to call London home. True the legalities of living in some cities are so complicated that it would take years to get right. Most would assume that London is the chosen one simply because of the convenience of having a Right of Abode. Indeed, it makes the process somewhat simpler. However, it's not the full weight of the decision. Personal life will indeed have its advantages living here, but there again it's not the full weight of the decision. No one thing is. In saying that, one factor does indeed sway me much more significantly then others. Belonging.

In talking to people about this, it always leads to one inevitable question: Did you not feel like you belonged in Melbourne? The simple answer is: no. The complicated answer is: I never had. Now don't get me wrong, Melbourne is a fine city, it's has a vibration of life unique to any other, it has beach and mountains and bush and snow all within a reasonable distance. People are friendly, the lifestyle relaxed and visually it really can be stunning. But a sense of belonging goes much deeper than that. Much in the same way you can make the distinction between a House and a Home.

When I was preparing to go overseas at 17, I somehow knew it was going to be an important trip. The clincher -I just didn't realise how important. Upon my return some three weeks later I was a changed person, both obviously and not so much. In that time I fell in love with Vancouver in the way that most people fall in love with places they go on holiday to. What the subtle, yet significant difference is, is a sense of belonging. I felt I belonged somewhere. For the longest time it confused me. I questioned myself over and over and over again as to how I could feel such a way when in reality I spent a little over a week in Vancouver before moving on elsewhere. As confused as I was about this, it clarified one thing: a simple sense of knowing that I would not live out my days in the fair city I was born in. I'd known for some time that this would be the case, that feeling, that hunch or even that hope that there was something more out there for me. What the trip did was made me realise there is a vast world out there, much bigger and complicated and cultured than Melbourne could ever give me.

The following year I ventured to the UK. In all honesty I hated London. It was this crowded, cramped and chaotic city which for three very long days I trotted around in. I really had no intentions to return. But as fate would have it, I did. At a time when I'd lost hope in a lot of different things a few years later, I made a selfish choice to take advantage of an opportunity that presented itself, I would go to London for five month, a city I did not have fond memories of. Indeed fate would step in again just a few months later, extending that stay from five to fourteen months and create a love affair unlike anything I had expected.

What I always find so challenging about London is showing it to people. I've done it a fair few times now, both in my volunteer life and that as a resident. Its a city that has so much to offer in so many varied fields, interests and even histories. When I ask what people want to see, they'll often say to me that I should show them what I think they need to see. And its here I always end up at a loss, not because there is nothing to show nor nothing to see, indeed far from, rather because we'd look at things from two very different viewpoints.

In my time in this magnificent city during those 14 months as a volunteer it was my viewpoint which changed and what bought about the love and affection I now hold. I stopped looking at London as a tourist and started to see it the way the people who live here see it. Most Londoners will avoid tourist traps with great skill and care. In a city of over a million people, the last thing you want to do is be in the thick of it all. And as time passed, I began to see past the crowd pullers and begin a rather delightful dance with the hidden corners and back streets. I found the life and pulse and vibe which had been calling me for some years. I suddenly felt I belonged. I'd found my people. I'd found a place where pretty much anything goes and where expectation can be as much or as little as you choose it to be.

Upon my return to Melbourne, I was lost. Not only had I changed as a person, but I had seen a bigger picture. I felt grander things and shared experiences that altered who I was and what I wanted. I realised that I'd distinguished that subtle difference -Melbourne was my House, yet somehow London had become my Home. As my life story continues, I followed that feeling and came home.

Like life everywhere, it can be trying. And like I said earlier, every once in a while I need reminding as to why it is I am here. Why I chose to come here. Again, personal life aside. What drove me here was not a legal right to remain, nor the ability to make my lifestyle choices more freely, rather its that sense of belonging. Of feeling like you fit in somewhere in this huge jigsaw of pieces which are completely different to each other. Most of the time I'm aware of when I need that reminder. But every once in a while it catches me off guard and it's not until I'm in the midst of that life or vibe or culture that I realise that yes, this is it. This is the essence of what it is I was searching for. This city feeds my imagination, allows for creativity and expression. Escapism as well as the ability to firmly ground you in what is going on in reality.

And what prompted this confession? Why it's simple. I simply got off the bus much earlier than I'd planned to. You see, I was up in Central London yesterday and homeward bound I was taking the 24 to Victoria to get my train. It was mid-late afternoon. The sun was out, there were a lot of people around and I was on the lower level of the bus, zoned out in my thoughts created by the music flowing from my iPod. The bus pulled up at the intersection of Shaftsbury Avenue and Charing Cross Road and I promptly got off. I'll be honest, I have no idea why! The bus pulled away and as I turned around, I noticed a large crowd had gathered out the front of the Palace Theatre (currently home to the West End version of Priscilla Queen of the Desert) and a rather loud band. Now in this city its normal to find a busker with an instrument. Perhaps a chair, an amp and a microphone. At the most. But as I crossed the road I came to realise not only were there amps and mics, but two electric guitars and a drum kit. I was looking at a complete band.

I stood there for close to 20 minutes listening to a group I'm going to dub the 'Jammers of the Desert' simply because even they admit they weren't a band as such, just some friends who liked to jam together. That said, they were awesome. Had I been the sort of person who knew someone who knew someone, I'd have been in there getting them a gig somewhere. They were really that good. And so I stood, amongst at least 100 people in the growing shadow of a giant stiletto, soaking up all of the things I love most about this city. Its life. It's pulse. Its rhythm. Its promise. Its spontaneity. Chances are they'd have been in a bit of trouble for busking where they were, but I'd also imagine the crowd would have booed a heck of a lot should anyone try stop them playing! Its was just so brilliantly alive.

Afterwards, I walked along with a spring in my step. Its so very hard to show someone that feeling. Its hard to show them atmosphere in places they don't expect to see. I stand firm by the notion that London is a city you have to live in to appreciate it for what it's truly about. Indeed I was not presented with an answer as to what I can show people, because that's the beauty of this place. There is something for everyone, no matter what it is they want to see or experience. Sure, I can lead you to Big Ben, through Trafalgar Square, take you to the theatre, see Buckingham Palace, ride the Tube . . . but I cannot show you My London, because thats the point. It's My London, its what makes London home for me, something that only I can appreciate. Its that feeling of belonging.

In saying that, if you're in the neighbourhood, do drop me a line, I'll be happy to show you around, but be prepared to tell me what you want to see otherwise we could end up anywhere :-)