words fail me

So this is my third attempt at writing a blog post this evening. It's strange how sometimes words just dry up and refuse to present themselves the way they usually do. It's not that I haven't experienced anything. Today alone I've stuck my nose in a thick layer of fat on top of my microwaved milk that for some reason just wouldn't run into my mouth; I've ENJOYED running, only to be hampered by the the feeling of shin splints lurking in my legs. I saw a perfect reflection of the bridge over the serpentine (unlike the picture above it was at night), and I saw a duck dive into the river never to reappear. I've also had a great talk with one of the coolest people ever over skype, washed clothes, and even done some studying. Now that should be plenty to write about, yet you're stuck with this - tough luck.

far from here

Having written about how great the weather has been yesterday - today was prettey much bound to be a lousy day. The sky is a heavy, depressing grey, and everything is wet. As I walked back from uni the drizzle turned into a proper shower, the downpour began as I turned onto Roland Gardens - so I increased my stride leaving the beat of "Time is a Runaway" by The Alternate Routes, behind. It didn't help, though; I was soaked by the time I got back to my room.

Today made me think of Alissa Moreno's song "Far from here." The song is basically about looking to the future in order to make it through the present. Hope for the future is a great motivational factor, yet is it enough? We're consumed with looking forward to things - letting what the future holds dictate the mood of the present. Kids look forward to getting older so that they can stay up later, teens look forward to getting their license, students look forward to graduating, I could go on. By waiting for the future, we deprive ourselves of the present.

Although I recognise the carefree joys of childhood, and the excitement of professional life; students have the best of both worlds. I'm old enough to do basically whatever I like, yet I'm young enough to behave like a kid without having anyone judge me too harshly. I'm going to make the most of my time as a student - instead of constantly wishing I was far from here.

autumn paradise

I love autumn!

Now that's quite a statement, especially coming from a chronic melancholic. As I walked to uni today, along the road where I saw the Indian president and her entourage, I found myself wading through oak leaves. There is something very special about wading, I can't quite explain it. Wading in leaves is kind of like wading in water, which is also very nice. After my last lecture, which finished at 12, I walked through Hyde Park on my way to the Kensington Central Library. I felt happy, truly happy deep down. Perhaps it was because I had no labs today and could leave early. Or maybe it was because I had understood everything in the lecture, and was left feeling really good about myself. It may have been because of the crisp clear air and faint breeze that prickled my face, while the rest of my body was snuggled down in my jacket; which today wasn't too hot, because of the lower temperature. Also, the sky was completely clear, and I could almost feel the blue colour in the distance. Most likely it was a combination of all these things, and a few more.

This experience may not seem at all significant to you, but to me it was amazing. Feeling utterly content is a rare feeling in my world, probably because I think too much. Today was perfect. As I entered Kensington Gardens I could see the Albert Memorial framed by a row of golden oak trees on both sides of a wide expance of grass, where we had played halls football a couple of weeks ago. I turned left towards High Street Kensington and waded on through the leaves scattered along the path. You can argue the case for pine trees as much as you like, but in my world deciduous trees win any day. That's one of the things I love about England; there are so many old majestic trees, many of which seem to have found their way to Hyde Park.

I can't ever remember liking autumn before. I associate autumn with mud, cold and the colour grey - none of which are particularly endearing. Normally autumn in London would probably be much like the autumns I've already experienced. Rain and bad weather is often associated with London, especially during the autumn months. I've lived in London for a month now, and I have yet to buy an umbrella; I think that must be some sort of a record. The reason for not buying one isn't merely that I am stingy either; in fact I can only remember needing one on two occasions this past month... I dare say my luck is about to run out - but for as long as it lasts I'll make sure I am enjoying my awesome autumn.