Birthdays

Yesterday, I turned the grand old age of 22.  This is not cool.  


I loved being 21; I had the year of my life.  To kick start it, I spent a long weekend in Lille and Brussels, following my favourite band through two countries with one of my oldest friends.  We've both been huge Muse for such a long time; they were the first live gig we ever went to see, and that was at a meagre £16 back in the day.  At the age of 21, I must have spent in excess of £400 on going to see them perform: twice in Europe, once in the old Millennium Dome a couple of weeks after my Birthday, and then once more in Wembley a few weeks back.  Not a penny was wasted either.

21 was was so much fun for so many more reasons though - I really got to grips with university life, and really fell in love with it.  Following a fairly lonely first year in university after a long, arduous and rather messy break-up, my second year was so much fun.  Having turned 21, I found myself gaining friends, and thus gaining confidence, and really enjoying, not only my education, but the environment in which I was living.  I found a great house, and some wonderful house-mates, with whom I am so happy to still be living.  I have found a wonderful new home here.  I suppose 22 is just an age; just a number in fact.  I am still the same person I was on the 29th.  Alas, it is the idea of getting older that is so haunting.

With that said, 21 had two excellent bookends, as a Eurotrip started it brilliantly, it ended with an amazing house party.  An outdoor fire-place is definitely the way forward, and even with the cold October weather, the back yard was a pleasant place to sit.  The company was wonderful, and it truly epitomised the year that had just past.  On one level, I may be worried that the near future won't live up to that which has just gone by, but at the same time, I don't think it needs to.  I'll always have these memories, and I'm really looking forward to having a different year this year.

It's important with whatever comes to pass now, I really make the most of it.  Your're only as old as you feel, and to be honest, at my age(!), I can't complain, and pah! - Even if I am 22, I still get ID'd at the bar.

Tuesday

Having spent my (long) weekend working in a coffee shop, I get to wait until today before my lectures and seminars begin.  What better way to begin the week than looking at maps of 16th century London?  Reading early, and often conflicting, histories of the city and its development, and juxtaposing these with the views of cartographers and artists alike, has allowed me to gain an insight into both the potential seen in the city, as well as the sense of nostalgia for the older city, rather than the newly developing one, that's prominent John Stow's work.  Seeing (in the maps) the city spill outside of its walls, and grow into the hub that we have today is actually pretty astounding.  To be honest, looking at it clinically, it's pretty obvious to say that the capitol's expanse was anything but slow.  

However, the point I'm making here has little to do with London.  I myself have little to do with the city, other than an undying love for Chelsea football club and the Underground.  What it got me thinking about was change.  Despite revolutions, great fires, and world wars, the core of the city is still there, with many a landmark making it visible, but so much has changed around it, grown around it, that the centre itself must have changed too?  My initial question is whether or not London has maintained its identity despite everything it must have endured.  I suppose to say it's 'endured', is giving the answer, but I can hardly speak from experience; I would say there aren't too many who can.

The real point here though, is how do we change, adapt, or hold fast against that which changes around us?  Now speaking from experience, I would say I'm not the same person I was a few years ago when finishing school, or even a year later when starting university; and for this I am thankful.  But with images of England's capitol in mind, am I still at heart the same person I was, perhaps with just the outer layers changing?  Or even, is the real me lost beneath a skin of ever changing layers?

To me it's obvious that these thoughts are not coincidental.  I have, for years now, been lost as to who I am, and more confusingly, who I want to be.  Hitting the grand old age of 22 in a couple of weeks, I wonder (constantly) what I should be doing and where I should be going.  What's more, I wonder whether or not I should be thinking about 'should' or 'want' or 'could'.  

At the moment I'm still very much living within my own present time, and using these words in a passive sense or past tense is something that's still in my future, or with a little luck, isn't.  What I'd like to know is how other people define themselves, whether or not they use their choices as a means of finding meaning, or if their choices reflect who they really are.  I'm starting to ramble now, and my own frustration is shining through.  Maybe I should stick to making coffee.