a sense of place

I'm a little punk rock. Just a bit- enough that I've dumper dived, and sat on the corner asking for spare change, and I've gotten into questionable political activism, survived within underground economies, done urban exploration, shit like that. But there's one thing that always prevented me from squatting, and made me hate couchsurfing.

I like to have a home. A little corner, somewhere, that's mine, that I can take care of, that I can decorate and make into my homebase. 
And there's friends I've stayed with that I feel at home with- Syph, and H, and my mad community in Krakow. It's certainly been a godsend that I'm lucky enough to have had places to crash when I've needed them. There's a kittybed in Massachusetts that I feel incredibly safe snuggled into. But you get into this weird feeling, living out of bags, moving from place to place, never settling in, never establishing roots. Even when I had apartments in London, it's been a transitional space, whether for a year, or for a few months. I've felt on the move for a long while. 
Finally, I think I've settled down.
A friend in SF recommended I meet a friend of him from Twitter, and from there I went to a party and met her. I was couchsurfing at the time, and she said I might be able to chill out on their couch for some time.
And then they had a room free. And, scrambling, I got the rent together, barely. And I moved into the first place I've been in London where I felt I could stay, where I felt at home, like I could be myself and do what I love and have a taste of San Francisco. Never mind that it wasn't far from my other friends, or that there was an adorable cat, and that my housemates were creative, inspiring, fascinating people I liked chatting with. Those were unexpected bonuses.
I spent a good portion of this week moving things in, decorating, painting my walls like a crazy person, and putting stuff away. I watched my creativity blossom and expand, my energy go up, my Domme side returning (and how!).
Sometimes you don't realize how depressed you felt until you're out of it. I didn't know how much I was bummed out, how listless I felt. But now, I feel like singing as I look out of my skylight into a blue sky unmarred by airplane trails, thanks to Iceland's volcanic ash. I wake up earlier than I ever have, and feel like eating, and being productive, and Getting Shit Done. I feel like I can conquer the world. 
This all springs to mind as Time Out London came to interview me and take a photo of me in my room for a spread they're doing on Londoners in their bedrooms. It comes out, not this Tuesday, but the next (I believe). I felt proud to show off my room, my little haven. I'm excited to spend time there, and I'm endlessly happy to fall into bed there. 
As easy as that, London has welcomed me home.

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