Londoner

But you carry with you a blueprint, a hint that your history will always be with you, that you were your parents’ breakthrough.
Your blood will be the crazy glue that keeps you together on the eventual day when you must stand alone.
So stand and make mountains jealous of how much you’ve grown.

— Shane Koyczan, "Blueprint"

You would think that I had trekked to outer space with the amount of silence on the interwebs that I delivered since my last blog. And there abouts, I had. I first started writing this blog a week back, but was then tunnelled back into the hectic schedule that is university life. I moved into university in London over two weeks four weeks ago now, and it feels like an age. The first few days were a non-stop mess of madness, where everybody operated a Pirate’s Code policy, “He who falls behind shall be left behind.“. So the quest was...

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Momentous

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There are two things that are about this post. This will be the last time I blog from living in my childhood home with my family and a certain feline friend. And this is the first time I’m going to mention items of fashion in considerable detail in a post. So I’d call this a momentous blog. Really momentous. Note: It is long, but it’s mostly photographs! Also, sorry for the lag- I’d recommend letting the photos load before you scroll! On point 1, the action of moving out, I don’t think I even need to explain how nervous I...

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Hideouts

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I warned you, didn’t I? I told you I had Rotary Layout Syndrome, and did anybody listen? No. And now it’s happened again! Well, you’ve got your comeuppance! Here it is, yet another new theme! last one too plain. I get the feeling I’ve seen this theme on somebody else’s site (or maybe tumblr), so wanted to clarify that I’m not meaning to copy (sorry!)- if anything, you’re a subliminal trend setter. Edit: Turns out, Chynna is the victim of my crime! Everything is slowly getting sorted for my move to London, which is only a few weeks away now....

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Pressure Point

As I walked into my old school library, my whole function turned to automatic, calculating the shortest route to the desk without meeting human contact. We kept the small talk small and I received my envelope in an increasingly violent, shaking hand. I passed some friends without saying hello in fear of drowning in a conversation of terror about what demons lied await for me under the glued flap. Inside, in the form of some Serif lettering, was the judgement of my future. And this was the moment where I would destroy the raising tension with a sharp rip and...

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