I am not very nostalgic. I didn’t have an idyllic upbringing (nor did many of you) and I’ve tossed out anything sentimental from my life before the age of 18.
- No yearbooks.
- No high school love letters.
- No pictures.
That kind of stuff doesn’t bring back positive memories — and I move too much to trot this junk around the country.
I am nostalgic for my time in London, though. I’m so obnoxious about it. I owe everyone an apology. If I had a dollar for every time I talked about living in London, I’d be rich. If I had another dollar for every time someone rolled their eyes at me, I’d be richer. I’m sorry. I know that I am insufferable — but moving to London was an amazing break in my life. Truly. I had a break from some stupid chaos, a break from my family, and a break from the mediocrity of my life.
It was the first time in my life I could sit still and shut the heck up.
So this town is kind of special to me.
If London were a man, I’d lay it down and lick its face. If it were an employee, I would sexually harass it.
But I’m not nostalgic for the London where people are indifferent, the tourists are stupid, and the weather is shit. I’m not nostalgic for rugby and pretending that England v. Wales really matters. I am certainly not nostalgic for blowing my nose and seeing gray snot.
I just want to reclaim part of my youth and find some peace.
And I have, this week.
Are you nostalgic? Do you treasure a certain time in your life? Tell me. I’ll be sentimental with you…just for this short period of time.
And here’s me in my tiny studio apartment for the week. I have a kitchen which goes unused (just like the one at home) so I took advantage of the counter space and made a video.