Heading in the right direction

So far I haven't really written anything about writing. That doesn't mean that I haven't been writing. It just means that the things I felt the need to write down here had nothing to do with writing. And me writing, has not really been interesting enough to write something about.

This week I had introduction at the university. After my interview in June, I was prepared to meet a group of people that were, on average, ten years older than me. I was prepared to meet a group of professionals that had already been working in the business for a couple of years. I was prepared to be the only one that did not think they were going to be selected.
And so it turned out, that I came to the university completely unprepaired.

I had been entirely wrong. There were a lot more young people, a lot less professionals, and the two people that I "hung out with" that day both did not think they were going to be selected. There were also a couple of more foreigners, something which I found out, I had also not expected.
Still I did not feel disappointed that my expectations did not turn out to be truthful. It means that I am probably not the only one that will feel a little uncomfortable about having other people critisize their work.
And even if the 12 of us are more alike then I had expected to be, we are still special because we got selected out of 150 applicants.

The day seemed very basic for the most part: the course leader explaining about the course, enrolling and paying tution fees, getting your university acces card and getting a tour of our department.
But there was more to it really. This year, I and my fellow screenwriters would get the oppurtunity to practise our craft, to create a feature film screenplay and perfect it, to meet important people of the industry; writers and producers, chat with them, learn from them, listen to their advice, ask question, get along and make contacts.
Our department contained a full fletched studio that was as big as the one I'd been working in, in Holland for Making the Movie. All the equipment you would need to make a movie, it is there, to use, for free.

The last part of the day was a welcome party together with last year's students (or I should say professionals, as we are all expected to be on this course). We all drank, well most of us, a glass of "bubbly" (as put by course leader S. May) and shared a chat about writing and the course. I talked to a guy that was doing the course part time so he would still be with us this year. And later we both talked to another guy that was now finished (or almost I think) and he explained to me what his major project screenplay was about.
Unfortunately the "bubbly" had gone to my head a by that time. So I found it a bit difficult to focus on what they were saying. Especially as there were so many other people talking as well.

When I went home, I was so excited I immediately wanted to get writing. Also because I had actually thought up two stories during the day. But I alas, I was too tired with today's impressions, and the "bubbly" might also have had a little to do with it.
So I went to bed early that night to get a fresh start the following day, feeling more and more close to where I want to be. Even though I am not sure where exactly that is. I know I am going in the right direction.

Of wood

This week on tuesday my wardrobe arrived. Well the wood, fixings and instructions to put the wardrobe together arrived. Of course first of all I had to wait a couple of hours, because it would be delivered between 7.00 and 13.00. A very broad amount of time if you ask me, it is not even in-the-morning anymore, it is already afternoon.

Thoughts of handsome men delivering and already put together wardrobe, or at least offering ot pout it together, or carry the parcel up stairs were all in vain. When 11:50 the doorbell rang there was only one guy of no notable appearance and he only carried the parcel inside. I signed and heaved the thing upstairs.

After a couple of hours which mainly consisted of screwing in fixings while trying to hold the pieces together I had produced a wardrobe. Not of course without the general frustration that comes with putting together furniture yourself, accidentally swapping two posters and having to switch them back again and something breaking.

The breaking had to do with two things. One: the quality of the wood was cheap. If it would've been expensive no doubt it would have been delivered already put together by a whole party of handsome men offering to carry me upstairs as well as the wardrobe.
But no, it was cheap. And so I learned that when you screw fixings too tight into cheap wood, it can break.
Nevertheless my wardrobe was standing. It didn't fall apart, not even when I had stored all my clothes inside.

I could finally put my suitcase, which I had now offically been living out of longer than in
Manchester , away. Mind you, in Manchester I did not have my own room yet so I guess it wasn't too bad waiting a little longer for a wardrobe.

Soon to be not homeless anymore

A little over two weeks ago I was still living in Amsterdam. Amsterdam very much is my hometown. It's where I was a child and where I became an adult. I know it better than any other city. But still a little over two weeks ago when I was there, I did not have a home.
In fact I did not have a home for almost half a year. Though I was living in a house that used to be my home, it was not.

The last home that I had, was in Manchester. Unlike most friends I had there, I used the word "home" for where I lived at that time. I used it because it felt like that; I had my room there, a room which I had made my own. And most important it contained a bed that slept so good, it felt like home.
Manchester is not too big a city, I came to know it quite well. At least the parts where I had to go. I felt comfortable walking around on my own, confident even and very happy at times when the weather was nice.
For about five months, perhaps a little less because I had to get to know it first, Manchester was my home.

I came back to Amsterdam not having a home, even though I came to live somwhere I used to call home. And it felt good, for a while it did feel like home. But the room that once was mine now contained a lot of stuff that wasn't mine. And my bed was okay, but it did not sleep like home. Most important, I knew it was only going to be temporarily. In a way I did not want it to feel like home, because I was aware of having to leave again.

My last week in Amsterdam was in a new house altogether. I had helped paint it, but it wasn't mine. I felt comfortable there, but it wasn't home, even though it contained things of a place I used to know as home. And even though I knew the neighbourhood quite well, it was not home.

Now that I am in London, I am in a completely new environment; another room, another house, another neighbourhood, another city. I have to get to know everything all over again.
In a way it feels like losing a tiny part of your identity and having to find it and make it part of you again.
I painted this new room (same colour as it was though) because it needed to be painted. And I bought or brought the few things that decorate it. I know how to walk to the store and back, I know how to walk to the university.
Tonight for the first time, I felt a glimpse of home. A glimpse of completely blending in, when every little thing you do becomes a part of your daily routing.When you feel like you're doing everything without thinking, and it feels good. That's when you're at home.

Money matters

I put the Crunchy Stir Fry Vegetables back and took out the cheaper sack of vegetables that looked less appatizing but where half of the other's price. It was Fresh Egg Noodles for me again as they were still on sale; half price. "Good", I thought. I added some sauce and a yellow bell pepper to the ingredients and concluded that this two-day-meal would cost about four to five pounds. "Ecellent", I thought as I continued shopping.

"Should I get the kilo bag of Crunchy Muesli?" Yes, definately! It is 1,32 for twice as much as the bag that is 0,99!
I counted the number of items in my cart; 14. Most of them were under a pound, some of them over, but all together it would be less than fifteen for sure.

The cashier lady smiled friendly; "Thirteen pound ninety please". I had succeeded.

Smiling while walking back home I had spent less than my aimed budget for three days groceries and that fifteen was even less than the budget I had planned for before coming to London. Quickly, I calculated that I would save up more than a hundred pounds a month. That would be more than 1200 pounds a year I could save! Or actually that I would have to borrow less. But still, 1200 pounds, I could even spent a little bit of that, right? On something nice, or going somewhere, or buying a DVD or two.

That evening as I went to the kitchen to prepare my cheap but healthy and tasty noodle dinner, one of my flatmates asked me if she could borrow my Oystercard. She had lost her's and she was going out tonight, but she did not want to spent a lot of money on a daily travel ticket.
She asked me if I wanted to come along? I told her I was staying in. Immediatly after I gave my answer I started to hesitate though. It would be nice to go out and meet some new people. Thoug obviously it was not guaranteed that I would actually meet new people. Besides, I had to pay not only for the transport but also an entrance fee and at least a drink or two.
My answer remained; "No thanks." and I gave her my Oystercard.

Later in my room I was reading the script for Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze, 1999) and checking out to see if there were any good gigs on in London. I was just checking to see if by any chance there was something nice but cheap. Little did I think, because of course there was also a lot of very good bands playing live in London. Bands that I would have considered spending more than a little money on to go see. But of course those shows were long sold out. And the smaller venues for unknown bands were in such remote places that I would surely have to carry my heavy Street Atlas around in hopes of not getting lost.
Besides, I did not want to decide to spent the saved money yet. I could better wait a little longer to see if I could maintain my current budget.

As pleased as I felt that afternoon spending so little money on three days of grocery shopping as sad as I was feeling now that I realised I was looking at a year of staying in at night. Roughly another fifty friday and saturday nights when everybody goes out to have fun. But not me, I will be in with no one to talk to; reading and writing with my face buried in my laptop.
Because I am on a budget.

Confined to my London Street Atlas

I had just seen my good friend M get on the bus to Luton Airport when I was walking back to Baker Street tube station, by myself. It was not the first time that I was in London by myself. It did feel like it though, which was not strange because it was actually only the second time, and I tried to soak in the feeling of being in big London by myself. No special feelings of excitement emerged as I walked down Baker street and went into the tube station. There were some tourists there and amazingly enough after having only been there for five days I already felt different from them. One reason for this probably was the fact that I was not rolling a giant suitcase around. But another one was that there was something missing in my handbag; my London Street Atlas.

I actually thought of strolling around downtown for a bit. I was there anyway and I had already paid for half the trip. Having to pay for the other half as well I thought I might as well walk around downtown and get my money's worth. But I didn't have my London Street Atlas and I must admit that I was too afraid of getting lost not having my guide there. And with that the feeling of distinction from the tourists disappeared again. So there I was not feeling like a tourist and not really feeling like an inhabitant of London either.

Street Atlases are one of my favourite types of books. I can browse in them for hours getting to know different areas thinking of where I want to live. I can get lost in a city without even being there. It also helps me remember a route, because of the shape of a street. I realize that most streets are straight, but not all are.
The best way to get to know a city might be walking around loads, but in my case the Street Atlas is. This has one reason alone: it's the cheapest way.

If I am able to spend less money than my budget I might use that money to go downtown every now and then to walk around and get to know the city. But than again there are many other things I would want to spend that saved money on; mainly DVD's and going to the movies obviously. And then I also want to just save that money and having to borrow less money from my parents which is pretty much my number one source of income for the next year.

But I guess the coming year I have to focus on writing, studying and working anyway. So there will be no time for me to go downtown. I will have no business there unless I bring my laptop which is of course the coolest thing to do in my opinion. Going downtown with your laptop and settle yourself in a hip cafe with a cup of tea. Of course pretending to drink all day after you finish you first because you can't afford another, plus you can't go to the ladies because you can't leave your laptop. I can't anyway; I won't trust the staff of the cafe to look after it for one second. In fact I would not even go and sit in cafe with my laptop. I am far too afraid some crazy thief might come running in and steel it.

So this year the main places where my "writer's" life will be taking place are: at home in Wembley, at the university in Northwick Park and at work (where ever that might become). Downtown London will be visited by me mostly in my Street Atlas and hopefully occasionally in person.