Meditating in the rain - the day I couldn't open anything

All of the stars
Have faded away

Just try to not worry
You'll see them someday

Just take what you need
And be on your way
And stop crying your heart out

Vomit. I'm sick of Oasis. They're an overrated boyband.

Still the lyrics remind me of yesterday, stuck in the rain, unable to unlock George's door for 20 precious earth minutes. Soaked to the bone. T-shirt transparent and plastered to skin. Trying to hold my umbrella, twist key and pull the heavy door up and to the left, and say the magic words, while keeping my sanity. Dignity was long gone. Yes, there was a bit of violence acted upon the stubborn door. There may have been a few tears and there were certainly some foot stamping. My mood went from hysterical to a dangerous calm and back to hysterical again. There is nothing more frustrating than being locked out. In the fucking rain.

I even enlisted a neighbour. She was unlocking her door when I swooped and asked her if there was a trick to the apartment doors. She tried to help for a few minutes and failed, and offered me a dry place to wait in her flat.

At that stage I was too angry, and just wanted to go to a warm pub, sup a beer and wipe away some pathetic tears. So I politely declined. Amazingly hospitable and kind people, Londoners, if you catch them unawares.

Being locked outside made me think about homelessness. I have almost been homeless in my life a few times. Once was when I started uni. My flatmate ended up being a big time drug dealer and getting busted in Queensland. I lost my job and the Government hadn't decided whether I was destitute enough to recieve Student Allowance while a University student. Government's attitude - 'Why don't you live with your parents?' Is Education only for those with a family?

Anyway I moved from floor to floor, couch to couch, and slept in a bus-stop one night. Ended up moving in with the boyfriend at the time, despite my pledge to never do that. Funnily enough it worked out for a while and I stayed there for almost 3 years until we split. Then back to my vagrant ways again, moving flats and houses and boyfriends until settling in Newtown and a career. It's odd because I didn't need to be such a bum, and to move around so much, but I didn't ever want to ask for help. I've never really had it rough, and I've met a few people that have really been below the poverty line or through that safety net. It's easy to criticise but it's hard to experience or imagine how horrible it is to not fit in anywhere. I can't even come close and it's good to remember your blessings sometimes.

There's also nothing worse than being an unwanted guest. Everyone wants to belong somewhere or with someone. In a way I left Australia because I felt like I didn't belong anymore. I was far from being homeless, and I put myself out of my comfort zone by uprooting and coming here. But I didn't have a job and it seemed like my fantastic friends had glittering careers and social lives. My relationship was great, but there was some fundamental shifts going on far beneath the surface that neither of us wanted to acknowledge, but seemed to cause some structural weaknesses. A lot of that was to do with me not knowing where I belonged. I felt like there was nothing for me in that city anymore. Nothing to keep me rooted there. Nothing to stop me just floating out a window, over the ocean, and away.

That feeling of not belonging has stayed with me from high school, like it's stained my very soul. I've buried it deep, but little things bring it back and make me irrationally upset. Little things like being unable to open a door, or to find a pair of trousers that fit, or being stepped on in a crowd, or overlooked at a restaurant - like I'm invisible, inept and insignificant.

So back to outside G's flat. By this stage the water is streaming off my face. Think Rutger in the last scene in BladeRunner. Finally G gets back and lets me in. I'm like an excited dog, shaking and shivering, jumping about and in a bit of a state. I want to be dry and warm. I want to be safe. He holds me still and attempts to calm me. The jeans are thrown over the boiler to dry. The T-shirt is replaced with an ugly boys jumper that reaches the knee. The tea is freshly brewed. The couch is nicely grooved. Oh yeah. That's the comfort.