(I wrote the following weeks, perhaps months ago. It happens, shit happens. Complaining and reviving and exhausting, again and again. That's life. Ce'st la vie, as the French said.)
It's been a long week.
I kinda recall the Caribbean guy I met in Brick Lane last week. I asked him where he's from. He said 'everywhere'. That's creative. I knew he's joking around. And 'What do you do?'
'Everything and noting.'
I raised my eye brow. But after roughly 20 mins chit-chat I reckon he's right in a sense. He went on and explained to me the way leads his life, well, quite the way he pleases. He's a fashion designer and it seems that he's making trading and collecting antiques, stuff like that, too trivial to recall.
'I've done everything and nothing.'
And then a week after, here in front of my laptop, his words make sense about everything that happened these days, the months and weeks after the diss was done. I've been doing everything to prepare the next stage of my life. I am open to any possibilities in academia, considering taking another MA or going for PhD studies, pondering on at least 3 different approachs for the subject matter and being ambitious to work on an independent research on Scotland's identity. I had plans, or, precisely, many options, for the next stage of my life. I applied to some MA programmes and volunteering works, consulting several professors at King's about my studies and anxiously taking
Not long ago the symptoms of ambitiously aspiration began to developed and turned into confusion of life.