If I sit back and close my eyes and just feel the weight of the cat on my lap and hear her purring, I can almost pretend I’m home with Oxford. Almost, because this cat won’t stay put on top of me and just flopped to the floor and left me all alone again.
It’s… strange, honestly. This entire thing. I’m feeling sentimental, so bear with me for this one post. I have David Gray songs playing through my head — and now on iTunes — and my mom asked me if I was happy here. I want to be here, but it’s still early on. I’m still in the process of finding a place to stay long term, and everything I’ve seen feels temporary. Even if I committed to three, six months, it would still be temporary.
I don’t know what a permanent place looks like. Maybe it doesn’t even exist right now.
It’s so hard for me to wrap my head around temporary solutions. I have long adjustment periods, adjustment periods longer than my stays in some cases. It helps to know what I’m getting into. It helps to be alone a lot, or to be with friends. Not strangers. I guess that’s part of what permanent would look like: alone or with friends, not strangers. Buying instead of renting, too. A cat.
Fairly far into the future, because I can’t afford that right now. And I don’t know exactly where I want it.
I’m not happy. I’m not happy, but I’m optimistic — most of the time. I get out of bed in the morning. I’m scared, I’m terrified, but I keep going. I miss my cat and I miss my mom. A lot. I even miss my guitar sometimes. I miss Annemari. I feel as though we haven’t been talking as often as we used to. I also feel like I’ve been longer here than it’s really been, and simultaneously like I’ve barely got here.
I haven’t got much done. I spend so much time looking for places and jobs that it overwhelms me. I have folders upon folders of photos to edit, and design work to complete. I feel like I went back to it yesterday, even though I’ve been trying since I went to Leicester.
I mentioned in my last post that I cultivated a habit of thinking only day to day and not any further ahead, but I still want to set things down in stone. I want to know where I’m going to sleep tomorrow, next week, a month from now, the rest of the summer. I want to know where I’m going to work. I want to stop carrying all this luggage. I want to know that I’ll have a place to leave most of it — more of it — whenever I fly back to Spain for a weekend, for a week, to see my cat and my mom and my sister.
I want to have got somewhere by then. So many meanings in that sentence, and they all take a while. A long time. And I’m not a patient person.
But I’m trying, and I love this city, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.