When is the best time to write?
On Sunday mornings, I want to sleep in as late as possible. And when I’ve realised how late it is I hurry to the shower and then throw on my day clothes to get ready to spend the day at grandmother’s house.
On weekday evenings, I’ve just returned from a day of staring at computer monitors – mostly reading, sometimes writing – hence my desire to continue to do more of the same is at its lowest.
Saturdays are when I try to pack in everything I couldn’t do during the rest of the week. I always set lofty goals for myself, like ‘Go to the gym’ or ‘Finish reading that novel you’ve been neglecting for four months.’ It wasn’t until this morning when I opened up a correspondence from my friend in England and he asked me ‘What happened to your blog?’ that I went ‘Oh!’ and promptly began to compose this piece.
My 26th birthday passed just over half a month ago. It came and went without much fanfare. Dinner with friends. Not all of my friends were there; I’ve resigned myself to the fact that there will always be an empty seat wherever I go. That’s the flip side of having lived in different places. I had a party afterwards, it was fine.
May 26 will mark my one-year anniversary of living in Vancouver. It’s been a tumultuous affair with this city, much like London but also totally unlike London. I won’t go into the details, for there are too many, but at times I yearned to leave it and other times I wished to make it my home. The people are what make a place worth calling home, and for the time being I like the people here: my family, the friends I’ve made.
I’m returning to a stable state, no longer reaching outwards as much as I did before. I’ve learned a lot in 12 months – that’s an understatement. My entire world has changed, and so have the people within it. I must learn to not rely on others for happiness, but I am fine with making other people happy. I must learn not to trust everyone I come across, for there are some people out there who were never taught how to treat others.
I thought it was in London that I finally emerged from my cocoon. I was mistaken; it was only in London that I spun it. These wings are growing restless, it’s almost time to see the light. But not yet.