Well I’ve failed that project just three days in. The poem-a-day project was supposed to be an excuse for not having to write long blogs but seeing as I couldn’t even keep up with one measly poem every 24 hours, I thought I owed you a blog.
I’m entering the last five weeks of my programme here which means England beckons. As does my old life, which I came to America to get away from. Well, take a break is probably a better phrase, and it’s fair to say that’s exactly what I have done. My standard of living here could not be more different from home, and it is not neccessarily a good thing.
Before I was living in a tiny, yet cosy, flat in Tunbridge Wells. My lifestyle was modest and my economic approach meak. But I liked that. I lived well withing my means and didn’t need 1,000 commodities clogging up my small room. I lived a simple but ultimately very fun life. All I needed was my awesome flat mate and friends around me and I was happy. What other people had didn’t worry me.
Fast forward six months to Summer 2009 – Manhattan Beach, Los Angeles. For the last month I have been living with a very wealthy family near the beach. I’m staying in their guest house all on my own, which is a few yards from the main house. The house is large, beautifully decorated and filled with TVs, expensive furniture and modern gadets. Most importantly though, it is also filled with an amazing family, who have taken me in as one of their own, and as a result I’ve settled in quicker than my brother in front of a Die Hard DVD.
But I worry that subsconciously I am getting used to this lifestyle and returning home will be a shock to the system. Here my family take me out to dinner, back home I had to make do with what was left in the cupboards. Here my family but my clothes I need, back home I had to save up and then still go to a second-hand store. It’s brilliant living here, but it’s not my life. It’s theirs. I’m just a part of it for a small amount of time.
That said, my family are building a new house around the corner (even closer to the beach) and I popped round to have a look today. I think it is fair enough to call it a mansion. Even that isn’t generous enough. It’s the sort of house you’d expect Usher to be showing you around on MTV Cribs. It has sea views, three floors, 10 plasma TVs, a bar, a theatre complete with confectionary stand, a lift from floor to floor, a pool, a hot tub, massive bedrooms, a bathroom for each room, and so on. I have never been in such a place and I doubt I ever will (unless I visit them next year). And yet they have designed it so well that despite being such a large space, every corner of every room is as homely as my flat in Tunbridge Wells was. Just slightly bigger. And with imported French bricks for the wine cellar.
