I Left My Heart in London

 

I've been burdened with the same ever-revolving thought for about ten months now. If it hadn't been for my loved ones and responsibilities, I would never have left London. (Okay, and the lack of housing and money played a role too).

At least 67 times a day, I think about London. And how I want to live there. And how great it would be to win the lottery because I would give my parents half and buy an apartment in London right away. It's not just that it's a big city--I wouldn't want to live in NYC or Chicago or LA. But London. So full of history. Everywhere you go is usually at least a hundred years old. The accent. Oh the accent. It will be the death of me. Being a train ride away from Charleston Farmhouse and Virginia Woolf's house. How I long to spend a Saturday back there again. I want to go to the British Museum and Library for free; both Tate Museums (also free); I want to sit on the Thames, chill out at the Abbey and walk around the Tower one afternoon. And I wouldn't have to drink nasty beer at the pub--they have cider. 

I feel akin to Jenny in An Education who says when she graduates she'll go to Paris and see French films, listen to French music, smoke all the time, and basically become French. This is the sort of thing that every high school and college student says. "One day." One day, I'll be here, doing this, where I truly belong. And as dreamy and wish-y as it is, I feel like London is where I belong. Where I one day wish to call home, even if it's just for a short bit of time. I want to read Brit Lit in the environs of its authors and smell the hustle and bustle of the Underground, the women with their Longchamp bags, smelling euphoric in Burberry. 

I keep trying to tell myself to list all the things I appreciate about America but the task is a bit daunting. Once you've seen a place that makes your heart spill out in happiness, how difficult is it to come back home to the drudgery of everyday life; working, responsibility, getting grades, housework, etc. And the gas just keeps getting more and more expensive.

I'm not here to say I'm a hater of my country. I'm not. And honestly, if I ever moved to London, which is a bit of a lark anyway, I couldn't go it alone. I would need somewhere there. Because I know how anonymous and lonely it can start to feel after awhile unless you're being loved and have someone else to love. 

I'm really hoping to save up enough money to go to London and Paris, each for a week, after I get my Master's in 2014. I think it would be the ultimate. Because I love French culture too! I'm just not as much of a francophile as an anglophile I guess. Oh, and the theatre! What I wouldn't give for another night on the West End out to see a play! And maybe this time I could actually make it to Stonehenge and 221B Baker Street...

Enough rambling, I suppose. I've got mundane tasks that need attending.