An Ode to Trains: A Life Update From London

"I bet you thought your life would change, but you’re sat on a train again" 

- The 1975

This is a lyric that in January brought tears to the eyes of an energetic gen zed filled stadium. I was one of them, desperately wanting to relate to this lyric since first hearing it last year. Trains are now not only my main mode of transporting my physical body, but they’ve become a place of refuge for my wondering mind. In this chicken and egg situation, the lyric came before the relatability, something I'm sure has never happened to me before. Maybe because there’s never been something I've wanted more than to feel at home in this city full of trains. I don’t yet think I’ve achieved this. I wake up every morning expecting to see a different bedroom when the blur of sleep fades and focus returns to my eyes. It’s not home in Kelowna or a dorm that likely belongs to someone else now that I expect to see, but it isn’t London either.

As I’m writing this ode to trains, if you will, I've missed my stop. There must be some form of irony in there, I'm sure of it.

Filling an empty seat on the Overground gives me a sense of peace. No matter how many stops CityMapper has told me to stay on the train, for the moment all I am expected to do is sit. These are moments free from the thoughts that cloud my mind day to day. I'll share a few with you now; I should exercise more - I should eat more vegetables - I started Little Women ages ago and will surely not finish it before the movie comes out - I really should be writing every day - I could never make it in the fashion industry, I don't have what it takes - I really don't know what I'm doing with my life. 

Some of these thoughts stem from truth (I am one of those people who gets their veggie intake almost exclusively from smoothies). Though these are expected, natural thoughts of a young creative person in a new job, I can't help wanting a break from them. Something about the forward movement, the rotation of fellow passengers and the contentment found in knowing where you're going, makes trains my perfect place of solitude. 

Now, can we please stop this train... of thought (wow, you're hilarious Emily), and switch gears to highlight a very important man in my life the past few weeks. Yes, It's Mr. John Mayer. Touching my heart all the way from the O2 stage, bringing me to tears during a song which is, I believe, a train dedication of his own.

“Stop this train, I want to get off and go home again”

This is yet another train metaphor that speaks to me, especially now as I near the end of my year abroad. It's exhausting feeling constantly in limbo, not knowing where to call home and never staying somewhere long enough to loose the sense of surprise when you open your eyes in the morning. At the moment, I feel a lot like John at the beginning of this song; overwhelmed by the rapid rate of time and begging life to just take a pause and let me get off the ride for a little while. The truth is, the train's never going to stop, as he so wisely accepts by the time the bridge rolls around. Though I'd love to say I've reached the same acceptance, I have to admit, I'm struggling to feel settled in this temporary home of mine. Time presses on and something inside me is resisting, as if I'm standing by the train doors insistently pressing the outward facing arrows button while the door refuses to open. 

I know this feeling is to be expected when nearing the end of the craziest year of my life. I suppose for now I need to do in my mind what I do almost every day in London; take a seat on the overground, breath deeply, and trust the train will take me where I need to go. 


Thanks for reading.

- Emily