When A Woman Is In Love With London...
I have been sleepwalking through the past few months. Long, boring days filled with nothing but repetition and unhappiness. And as I sat down in the classroom, and opened my notebook and looked expectantly towards the lecturer, I suddenly felt myself waking up. A part of my brain that had lain unused for too long. That dormant curiosity, that relentless intellectual longing for more information, more discussion, more *discourse*.
By lunchtime, as I sat in cafe in Holborn with a Buddhist painter, discussing spiral symbolism and labyrinths in the archetypal symbolism of C.G. Jung, I suddenly thought "Hang on, there *is* a place for me. There is a place for people *like* me - and it's called a University."
I signed up for a course at City Lit, for no other reason than I was interested in the subject. Mythical and Legendary London - combining two of my great loves, esoteric lore and the Psychogeography of my hometown. Within ten minutes, the lecturer had mentioned Nigel Kneale's Stone Tape, T.C. Lethbridge, Geoffrey of Monmouth and Alfred Watkins. I was sitting forward in my seat, eyes wide open, scribbling away taking notes, mind racing - not with mania or illness, but with the sheer joy of learning.
The petty feuding of the past few weeks simply evaporated, utterly unimportant. Surrounded by people who don't think it's "weird" to learn, to question, to dream, to wonder... I experienced something I haven't felt in I don't know how long. The sense of being in the *right* place. Sod everything that turned me off University the first few times round - the barriers to entry, the test-taking, the ivory tower mentality - actually, sod it. Right now an Ivory Tower seems like a pretty dream. Learning just for the simple joy of finding stuff out.
I'm hooked, and I'm going back - I've found a reason to keep living.