9 months in

Don't worry Mom, I'm not pregnant. But I have been here, in London, for 9 months as of today.

I know I say this all the time, but time really goes by pretty fast. In March I was a skinny, lanky, heartbroken dreamer who liked to impose his perspective and ideas on his friends and family by conversation. And look at me now! A skinny, lanky, headstrong dreamer who promotes his perspectives and ideas to friends and family and complete strangers through a blog. And also through conversation.

Ok so times change but things stay the same. Really I can't say that the last 9 months or moving to a city have changed me much. I may have stopped looking for middle-aged or pregnant women and old people to volunteer my seat to on the Tube, but I'll still give it up when the opportunity arises. Also when I walk around I look more at the ground than I do at the skyline, but that just means I have more coins in my pocket: I'm still economical (cheap).

I might also walk around with more determination and vigor. I don't wait for the walk sign and I will jam myself onto an uncomfortably crowded train without any apology.

And because there are some bad parts to London, I've perfected a facial expression/gait that suits any potentially volatile situation. It can be perceived as tough, drunk, distracted, good-humored, or lost. Or all of the above. It diffuses things before they become an issue.

Other than that, I'm the same. Oh except I wear skinny jeans now and a scarf everyday. And occasionally I sport a mullet.

And I say: mate, right, hiya, cheers, sorry, FA, pint, football and alright multiple times per day.

But other than that.