Today I googled myself, and by myself, I mean my online self.
Yes. Don't judge. I just wanted to see what kind of pictures I have uploaded. Sometimes we get carried away after all.
When I ensured nothing shameful has been shared with the world, or at least nothing shameful appears on google search, an old blog entry caught my eye.
As I started reading I thought I'd feel nostalgic, but if I actually felt anything, that was annoyance.
The blog entry was about me loving London, London life, reminiscing my uni (bachelors) years etc.
I was going on about friends, parties, and having a great time in London. Mind you, the post was written in 2012.
Now, four years later, I just graduated from my masters degree, which took three long years to complete, and I got a job (for which I am severely underpaid).
I also have close to zero social life. Firstly, due to many of the friends mentioned on that old blog entry moving to other places, secondly due to drifting away from people (as you do the older you get), and lastly, due to my shit finances.
In the seven years I've been in UK, not even one day has gone by without me stressing over money. And that takes a toll on you. That, combined with the masters degree experience, which was extremely traumatic and draining -not to mention the Brexit news- left me extremely... tired.
Rent prices and overall cost of life skyrocketed, which left me struggling for survival. In the past three years, I cannot say that I have lived in London. I can only say that I have survived London.
Many of my acquaintances and friends in Greece believe that because I'm in London, I'm living the life.
Well, let me tell you: I'd rather be somewhere else and live comfortably. Because in London, unless you make over 30k a year (after taxes) you can't live. You can only survive. And at the moment, I'm not making a third of that. I'm struggling to pay my rent, I'm struggling to pay for food.
I have two degrees, and I can't find a job that pays well enough, so that I can live with dignity.
Because, as someone pointed out on youtube, art degrees are 'laughable' and useless. So, apparently, I should have studied something I don't like, just so I can live with dignity. But then, would that be living with dignity? If I did a job I hated?
The same person who called art degrees 'laughable' suggested I should have checked the Forbes list of the best paying jobs before I started my studies. To her, it's stupid that I chose to study subjects that aren't on that list.
But you see, unfortunately, I am an artist. Every part of my body has been dedicated to art since I can remember myself.
I was four years old when I started singing. I was fascinated. I would sing arias by the window. I didn't even know what opera was at the time. I just knew how to make those sounds, that I later found out to be arias.
Then, I learned how to write. My whole world changed. I immediately started keeping a diary. I started writing stories. In the meantime, I was reading books all the time. I started reading comics as well.
I realised I also liked drawing a lot. I always drew, as all little kids do. I could be good at it, if I put the time and effort. But, I loved writing and singing a little more. And since writing was something I could do anywhere, anytime, I focused on that.
When I was eight-years-old I started learning English. I immediately started writing in English. I was fascinated by how well English worked with lyrics and poems. Even though, I still wrote in Greek, both novels and poems/lyrics, I started writing in English a lot more. Today, I rarely write in Greek. Nevertheless, when I do, it is something I enjoy and cherish. I feel that different languages work better in expressing different things.
In my late teens, I was in a band. That didn't go greatly, but it urged me to push myself to study music. I dropped out of my Greek uni to come to London and study music. I wrote lyrics frantically. I sang, I recorded myself. I was happy. The singer and lyricist within me was satisfied.
But I didn't manage to make connections, as I am an introvert and suffer from performance anxiety. I didn't manage to make it big.
Therefore, music didn't work for me.
I started loving photography around the same time I was in a band. You see, the internet made it possible to share your pictures, and to see others' pictures. That was inspiring to me. It gave me ideas. It urged me to share my pictures with the world. Even if it was pictures taken from my phone. I created a Deviant Art page. It's not popular at all.
My love for photography -which I got from my mother- didn't lead anywhere either.
My masters degree helped me gain knowledge in the arts (theatre, music and drama among others) and management, in correlation to marginalised social groups (e.g. prisoners, persons with disabilities etc.) and how to plan, deliver and organise relevant workshops/projects.
However, as I lack people's skills, which are essential to work on this field, I didn't manage to get a job on that field.
Now I'm a notetaker for uni students with disabilities. Despite the fact that I enjoy the job, and I learn so many things for free, this isn't a post grad job. It's a I'm-still-doing-my-bacherlor-degree job. Which means I'm extremely underpaid considering my qualifications -and the fact that I work for an agency means they get a lot of my money.
So all of these years of studying, all of these years of creating... and nothing came out of them.
I have hundreds of pieces of writing that I've written over the years. I also have hundreds of drawings. And I used to have a lot of recordings of me singing, but many of those I decided not to keep. But I do have a few finished songs, recorded for uni, and a couple of performances. I have thousands of pictures I have taken.
In vain.
It's sad. It's really sad. But you may ask: How is this relevant to London, wouldn't it be the same if you were in Greece?
Maybe, maybe not. But at least in Greece I would be more comfortable financially.
However, the thing is, London is known for its art scene. It's known to be the USA of Europe. Meaning, it is the land of opportunity, and aspiring artists from all sorts of backgrounds and art forms come here to make it.
Or it was supposed to be. Or it used to be. But it's not anymore.
Take it from someone who has lived in London for almost seven years now:
London isn't an easy place to be. And with all the instability that the Brexit brought, the prices rising even more, it's turning into a very ugly place; a place that isn't very friendly to foreigners and poor people.
I can't even remember why I started this blog entry anymore. So, I'll stop here, hoping that one day, maybe, just maybe, I will be given the opportunity to live with dignity, as an artist, in this world.
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