Paris. was. crazy. I'm not going to tell, but be sure I'm making a film about it one day.
Talking about Paris, Friday the 13th. I'm horrified by the news I woke up to this morning. Many of my coursemates from my Photography degree are at ParisPhoto at the moment, my housemate stayed up last night to make sure all students from our University had made it safely back to their hostels and hotels. Luckily none are hurt. My thoughts go out to everyone involved.
On a brighter note.
So I'm two months into my masters course. I've read and written so much in the last weeks that I'm finding new muscles in my fingers and arms every fortnight. Headaches have become a well known enemy, and I now find myself with two pair of glasses. One grandma and one secretary piece of glass. I'm still not sure if I actually need them.
British University Surf Championship in Newquay last month. I didn't compete. I did, however, spend my hungover hours in the most stereotypical, cliche, pinterest campervan, with the boot open towards the beach, right next to Redbull and their unbelievably good looking employees. It was amazing. Gabi and Matt, won boards and ££££, well done you.
I have watched more films in the last months than I have in my whole life. I knew before I started the course that it's silly of me to do this exact line of work when I've barely seen any movies. In the last seven years, I've had a TV for about 18 months. I know absolutely nothing about this media - Except the effect it has on you by not watching it. We've got so much to write by January. Every single lecture or guest speaker I attend to, I'm inspired to write or work with. I've got so many possible essay subjects and titles in my idea book, but I can't decide on one of them.
While I'm lying in our sofa, alone on a Satuday night, still in my pyjamas from last night, watching Eat Pray Love and eating nutella out of a jar with a spoon, I realise I have reached the bottom. I've furnished the basement. I'm rocking the foundation. Upon picking up my phone and reaching out for some human contact, wanting to ask my dear friend Meagan if we can run off to India and meditate and eat, I get some happy news - She has called off her ski season and IS GOING TO INDIA. What is life.
Everyone I've met during my undergraduate degree are slowly disappearing. Some have stayed and made their living in bars, some have just clung to the moist, damp and mouldy rock that we call Cornwall, but most of them have left the coast - To the smelly grey large built city; London. Some have gone traveling, some are going traveling. And I'm here. Waiting.
For what? God probably doesn't know either. But I'm waiting. After Eat Pray Love (I really should have watched it earlier, why haven't I watched any films??), I got a slap in the face when this particular issue was challenged.
I need to stop waiting.
I am going to stop waiting.
I don't wait.