I think i’m made to live in a big city. Wait a second, i know i’m made to. I have these obsessions with buildings, markets, parks. I revel in wandering, people-watching, observing, and exploring. I’m notorious for seamlessly navigating transport systems, maps, streets… and for finding bakeries, coffee shops, or bookstores. I’m not just being nostalgic. It’s not just Sydney life that i miss (though i unbearably do)… it’s city life. I am not created for the suburbs. I absolutely hate how in the suburbs, you have to plan everything. You have to know where you’re going to drive, where you’re going to park, who’s going with you, how much parking is going to cost, and why the heck you’re heading downtown in the first place. Blah blah blah blah blah… i long to hop on a train or whisk down a few flights of stairs, and instantly be planted into the living, breathing organism of a city.
I don’t like the concept of “working out”… it has always seemed contrived and pointless to me. I prefer instead to be active… i like my exercise to be walking hundreds of blocks, climbing endless flights of apartment stairs, or carrying armloads of art supplies or groceries or antique finds. I have always had this obsessive fixation on things that are “real”. I say “real food”, “real coffee”, “real beer”, “real music”. My radar goes haywire whenever I experience, ingest, or observe things that seem contrived. I like history & culture, and anything steeped with them.
I’m not hating on fields, rivers, trees, and mountains… i’m talking about the awkward in-between stage humans have created called the suburbs. I get it; i get that it’s nice to have some of both worlds. To have your own refuge away. To have your yard, but be able to be downtown in 20 minutes. I get that, and appreciate it. But it doesn’t resonate with me anymore. It’s not me. It will be again someday, inevitably.
But not now.