Since the middle of January my life has been in a bit of limbo. I left London and moved to the South Coast and moved in a small room at my 'in-laws'. The house is tidy, warm and not too crowded, so it could be a whole lot worse. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, six weeks at most, but life is never that simple and my planned living arrangements got rather scattered. The plan was to rent for three months or so and then buy somewhere of my own, but problems with rental times and the purchase have resulted in that original six weeks, spreading to an uneasy sixteen. Three quarters of my stuff is still in boxes and I haven't even seen my CD's since December.
I was sat in the car today, off to get some oil for the FireBlade, waiting at the lights, watching the wind play with the daises on the roadside when I really started to really understand a few things.
For the last few months I've been feeling really lost, like I don't belong. I'm finding my new job harder than I had expected and if I'm honest, a little difficult to find my place. Don't get me wrong, it's full of some great people and my department has some serious talent running through it, but I still feel like an outsider. Those who really know me, will know that I have no problems speaking and interacting with people, but it whilst waiting at those lights today, that I started to see. I don't have a place at work, because I don't have a place that is really mine at home.
While I sit here writing, I look up and see pictures of people I don't know, books I have no interest in and objects that aren't mine. The one and only place I feel home is when I close that visor on my helmet, lean forward, grab the bars and let out that clutch. Since January, the road has really been the only home I've had, the only constant from my life before. It sounds like a bit of a cliche I admit, but its honestly, at the moment anyway, the place I feel most at peace.
Once the house situation is under control and I have a place that is mine again I'm sure I'll start to feel at home again and finally get the chance to break out some Dylan.
I was sat in the car today, off to get some oil for the FireBlade, waiting at the lights, watching the wind play with the daises on the roadside when I really started to really understand a few things.
For the last few months I've been feeling really lost, like I don't belong. I'm finding my new job harder than I had expected and if I'm honest, a little difficult to find my place. Don't get me wrong, it's full of some great people and my department has some serious talent running through it, but I still feel like an outsider. Those who really know me, will know that I have no problems speaking and interacting with people, but it whilst waiting at those lights today, that I started to see. I don't have a place at work, because I don't have a place that is really mine at home.
While I sit here writing, I look up and see pictures of people I don't know, books I have no interest in and objects that aren't mine. The one and only place I feel home is when I close that visor on my helmet, lean forward, grab the bars and let out that clutch. Since January, the road has really been the only home I've had, the only constant from my life before. It sounds like a bit of a cliche I admit, but its honestly, at the moment anyway, the place I feel most at peace.
Once the house situation is under control and I have a place that is mine again I'm sure I'll start to feel at home again and finally get the chance to break out some Dylan.
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