London & Art: Failing creativity

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.


-

My last day as a student

Today marks my last day as a university student, or a student in general.
My university student card expires on this day.

Mixed feelings. Bittersweet. Redemption, relief, anxiety, sadness, melancholy...

I started going to primary school in Greece when I was six years old. I remember how excited I was to learn the alphabet, the tool of the writer. I immediately started keeping a diary and then writing stories, and later poems and lyrics. Primary school was easy and fun, and then not so much fun when the school shut down and I had to transfer to a bigger one. Then senior school was ok, I was reading a lot of literature at the time, and I started learning about all sorts of different subjects at school. High school was when I started questioning the knowledge passed on by the teachers and books, and when my ability to think critically really evolved and started shaping the person I am today. Then, came prep school to get to uni. Next year, off I went to uni in Greece. Two years of learning things I wasn't sure I was interested in. I decided to go to the UK to study music. To push myself to do that which I have always loved. My time as a music student was eye opening. I learned, I lived, I experienced, I grew, I lost myself and I found me again. After that I took a gap year to decide what I should do next. Then, off I went to my masters degree. Little did I know these would be the hardest three years of my life. I went through trauma, mental breakdowns, I learned, I rediscovered myself, I improved my research and writing skills and I became an adult. Yes, at almost 28 years old I became an adult.

Overall, I've spent 21 years of my life in education. And that chapter of my life is coming to an end today.
I'm not sure what the future holds. The future is terrifying territory for me.

What I'm sure of is that being in education helped me become the best version of myself. It helped me become aware. It provided me with the tools I need to be a decent human being. And not necessarily because of the teachers, even though I encountered a few of them that were exceptional -not a majority unfortunately. It was my effort, my resilience and research that gave me the tools, but had I not had education as a platform, I doubt I'd have ever made that effort and engaged in such research.

So, if you ever have the chance to go to college, university, or anything similar, grab it. Make sure to use that time creatively, meaningfully, lose yourself, find yourself, do crazy shit, learn crazy shit, question everything, and above all,  _________ .
No, I ain't telling you that part. That is for you to discover yourselves.

Just fly,
Lara

London Housing Chronicles (Part 3)

Intro

For anyone who follows my blog this isn't gonna come to you as a surprise.
You already know I'm not the luckiest person when it comes to accommodation in UK.

So last time I mentioned my housing situation I had just moved out from that horrible house to my uni halls (the posh version, since I managed to get a cheaper deal).
Time there was heavenly and I was feeling so much better. All good things must come to an end though and so did my contract, forcing me to move out and in to my other uni halls. There my room was dope, the building was shit, the people were nice, the resident assistants were pricks and thankfully I only had to live there for a month and a half. After that I went back to Greece for sometime.

When I came back I rented a room in my other uni halls (different from the previous ones). I had been warned by a friend that I should better not live there, but the rent was considerably cheap, and the location was great.

And now let's get to the main dish...

Despite all the bad rumours of these halls (people stealing from each others' rooms, people stealing food, mice running around etc) due to my finances I had no other choice but to move in.
So my flat has the shittiest structure any flat has ever had.
The kitchens (2) are on the top floor, the way toilets and showers have been placed makes no sense, there are only 2 showers and 2 baths (which cannot really be used) for 20 people...

I hated this place from the second I entered the building. But things became worse when I was moving in and within the first 30 minutes of being there one of my neighbours started telling me about all the drama that was going on. Imagine moving to a place with 19 more people and immediately being aware that people don't get along with each other. I even had to participate on a housemate meeting on my first night there, because the flatmates decided there was too much drama which needed to be resolved -which didn't happen.

The drama & The housemates

I'm not going to go into detail out of respect for people's privacy.
The sure thing is that many people don't like each other. They have done nothing to try and live together in harmony and many gave no shits for causing great discomfort to their flatmates. In less than six months we had more than six people move out and that is no coincidence. Life in this flat is extremely stressful, people love talking behind each others' backs, many flatmates are extremely pretentious, they are extremely disrespectful to their flatmates and they generally don't realise that this isn't a hippy commune nor their own house, this is Uni Halls.

During my time in this flat I had (and still have) to put up with the following:

• People leaving their unwashed dishes in the sink (even when they're away travelling outside the country) causing mountains of unwashed dishes at times, which made it impossible to use the sink
• People leaving their unwashed dishes next to the sink, leaving no space for anyone to place any other items there
• People placing dirty dishes on the drying rack
• People placing the dishes in a way that is dangerous (I almost stabbed myself a couple of times and had pans placed on the shelves fall on me)
• People not washing communal stuff that they have used 
• People leaving the kitchen in a state
• People stealing my glasses
• People stealing my food from the fridge
• People stealing my food from my cupboard
• People using my stuff and food without my permission
• People using my cutlery (which is in a cupboard) without my permission and not washing it or putting it back to its place
• People from the other kitchen leaving their shit in the kitchen I use creating unnecessary discomfort
• People leaving their shit everywhere in the kitchen, creating a mess
• People not cleaning after partying
• People partying in the kitchen late at night when they know some rooms are underneath the kitchen and the noise is unbearable
• People being extremely rude when told off about their inappropriately loud partying on top of my room
• People drunk banging on my door at 4am causing me a great deal of anxiety
• People making noise in the middle of the night in the kitchen or slamming and banging things when they know people live underneath
• People not flashing the toilet
• People not cleaning their pubic hair off the toilet
• People leaving the baths in a disgusting state
• People playing extremely loud music or watching movies at 3am, causing my whole room to tremble and ofc causing me not to sleep
• People leaving their shit in communal spaces and never picking it up
• People from past years leaving their shit all over the kitchen forcing me to have to clean and organise three cupboards to be able to have some space
• People hoarding massively in the kitchen
• People not throwing away things that have expired and are in communal spaces
• People making no effort to keep the kitchen clean, that so many times me and a couple of other housemates had to clean loads of disgusting dishes

On top of that I had to tolerate a hateful cleaning staff who not only didn't clean properly, but was also extremely rude and many times didn't clean the showers or the bathtubs at all.

The building

As if all this wasn't enough, causing me an immense amount of stress I had to deal with the following as well:

• Cracks on the wall (that were painted over and not fixed)
• Continuous sink blockage for months (making the use of the sink impossible)
• Continuous boiler problems turning the kitchen -and my room that is underneath it- into a hotbox
• Power cuts and internet issues throughout the year
• Shower and bathtub problems (including blockage and a disgusting smell)
• Major pest issues (cockroaches, spiders, mice -and mice' dead bodies underneath the oven)
• Extremely sensitive heat detectors that go off even if you're blow drying your hair 
• Ventilator issues
• Problems with the lights

In addition to all these there was insufficient communication from the Accommodation office, many times ignoring the issues/our reports or alternatively aiming at temporary fixes.

The area

In case you didn't think all this is bad enough let me tell you a few things about the area:

• There are loud police and ambulance sirens every few minutes (which unfortunately I can hear in my room since it faces the main street)
• It's one of the most dangerous areas in London, having extremely high stabbing rates
• I get catcalled all the time, and many times catcallers become verbally violent
• The entrance of my Halls is on the dodgiest dark alley 
• Many times people pee outside or next to my Halls or in general on the streets
• There are fights around the area almost every night and especially during Thursdays and the weekends it's almost impossible for me to sleep with my window open (due to the screams, bottle smashing, fights, sirens etc)

There are a few good things about the area: many shops, pubs, takeaways, restaurants, clubs, parks etc. And I'm sure I would have been able to focus on those if I didn't live on this building.

To sum up...

Nevertheless, it's always hard to focus on the positive when the negative is so overwhelming.

Worst part of all?

I got to tolerate this shit for one more year. Yes, my financial situation doesn't allow me to live somewhere else for the time being, so I had to renew my contract...

Wish me luck.

Sincerely,

Lara

I can't get over it

I can't get over it.

I don't think I will ever be able to let go... of these moments, of the memories, of those amazing years I spent in my university campus.

I said I would go again, but I have not managed to bring myself to visit. I told myself it was because I didn't have the time... But look at me, I got plenty of time. Between panicking for uni and procrastinating I could spend a Sunday evening there. But still, I don't know if I can.

I can feel tears dancing around my cheeks. I can feel my heart aching. Every time I go through the pictures of my years in my university halls a sweet melancholy numbs my body.

How am I supposed to move on? I can't forget. I don't want to forget.
I don't think anything in my life can top up these two last years of my ba studies, the university halls experience ...

I know life changes. I know people change. People move on. My mates moved on. I moved on. But did I?

I never -not even for a split second- stopped hoping things would turn back to the way they were back then. It's not possible anymore, I can see it. Nevertheless I'm still clinging onto that idea.

The utopia of my uni years.

I think that's the problem. I lived, I experienced utopia and now I can't be happy and content with anything less than that. I am having a good time, I am appreciative, yet there is always a little shadow lurking inside me reminding me of the dream, the life I lived as a ba student in London, the university halls...
That protected environment, that magical forest that ensured me and my mates would be back together every september, altogether in one building.

I need closure but I sure don't know how to get it.

*that picture is the most iconic picture of my university halls for me; it's the view from my window.