Well the times, they are a’changin’. After months of infuriated cage-rattling as a graduate with an overinflated sense of entitlement (see here) ,and then a couple more as a redundantee with confused and burning eyes from stepping out of the Plato’s cave of acutely overqualified employment, I finally got me a job. And I’m moving to Cambridge.
We perceive elements of ourselves, I’ve always thought, in continual relation to the lack or abundance of similar elements. Therefore, in Hull, I always sort of perceived myself as other in relation to the schlepping flocks of dumbly patriotic shitheels. Like Bill Hicks, my tie to my hometown was weak and vague: 'Well, my parents fucked there...' etc etc. Now I’m moving south however, I’ve never felt so violently and strongly Yorkshire, if not Hull. I even have a mug that says so.
It’ll be interesting to see how I adapt to these new circumstances, how it might affect or stifle creativity; hell, I might be spending all my damn time cooking and washing now. Yeesh. I have an attic room, and the flush of light from the two windows is something I’ll look forward to. Either way, it’s good to, in a sense, be able to finally get out there and just make that damned first step already. Short of the satisfaction of actually having a job even slightly related to my degree, it’ll be great to, you know, do life. There’s something satisfying about plunging into these situations with no idea of how I’ll adapt or function (within reason, that is), it brings to mind this TED talk on synthetic happiness by Dan Gilbert:
Of course, watching that in the first place makes me hopelessly white, I know. Now back to packing hokey miscellany and looking forward to missing Yorkshire...
