It's now 9:43 am and I woke at 7 am to my alarm. This was nice, as for once I actually felt rather well rested. Yesterday was a special, albeit stressful day.
I woke too early, and spent the morning gradually getting ready to get out of the house. I needed to be out by 12:30 in order to meet a friend by 1 to get into town by 2. This was an impromptu plan we had made yesterday so it hadn't quite sunk in to me that it was actually happening. Our plan was to go into central London in order to take photos of the rather emptier than normal streets. This wasn't quite what happened though. Upon arriving at Bank, it was certainly emptier than expected, but it wasn't the desolate ghost town that I had hoped for. Considering the recent decision of the prime minister that construction workers were to return to work on Wednesday, there was a great number of them and a much higher ratio of these people to the average city worker. This was refreshing.
After arriving at Bank we meandered our way over to the Millennium Bridge via short cut by St. Pauls. Before we got to the bridge. My friend spotted something out of the ordinary. One of the local takeaway shops was actually open. It was a cute little Italian shop run by a New Zealander. I walked in, said hello and immediately asked whereabouts in the store I should stand. She was affable to talk with and ran me through the options available and how her system works. I really liked their menu as there wasn't a lot of options. Less options in a restaurant is generally a good sign. After ordering, me and my friend ambled over across the road to a granite wall that had been well positioned. My friend made the suggestion that we use it as a table. And so we did. I'm blown away by how good the pasta was. It was chewy and thick and just unctuous.
After lunch we continued our walk. Slowly travelling down the Thames with a selection of my music scoring our journey; we were content. Every now and then one of us would stop, take out a camera and take pictures of something striking. This was a natural and expected part of the rhythm of the walk. I had hoped to show him the roof gardens at the National Theatre, however they were closed to the public. Soon after, we arrived at the bridge that overshadows the Southbank book market. Giddy and nervous, I made my way to the central reservation separating the two lanes of traffic. The whole day, I had hoped to get satisfying photos of an empty bridge. Until now I had not. Even as I crouched there, camera in hand, watching the intermittent cars, vans and busses make their way from North to South and vice-versa, I was apprehensive. I didn't think that my moment would come. And then it did, carefully I lined up the centre of the frame, I took my shot. I checked it, satisfied, I went across the road to continue our walk.
At this point we had come to a nexus. We had to decide if we wanted to go North to central or South to somewhere else. My friend wanted to go back to central, but I insisted on going South because of how little we had ever explored that half of our city. So we got on a bus and travelled. Aiming to get to Brixton, we stopped in a town before our bus branched off. Soon thereafter we landed in Brixton on another bus. It was surreal for me to be there, because I hadn't walked there in at least 8 months, if not a year. I had hoped to show him the first salsa place that I had been to, however I could not find it for the life of me. Instead we ambled around until 5pm rolled by, as that was when I wanted to begin going home, and so we did.
My friend was concerned that it would be higher risk to travel between 5 and 7 pm due to rush hour. However he was gladly mistaken. Everyone on the tube respected social distancing and we had a relaxing, if boring journey home.
You can tell you're having a good conversation when you're sweating as the realisation dawns on you that you're making the wrong decision in life. This is what happened to me in the evening. I had arranged to have a chat with an old friend of mine after having not talked to her in 2 weeks. The last time we talked I was giddily discussing plans and ideas for my fork of shattered pixel dungeon. This time was different. After 40 minutes of going thorugh the patchy progress I had since made, I came clean about something that had recently bubbled up in my mind. I no longer wanted to pursue this project. Until now I had put roughly 20 hours of my time into it. I estimate that it would take between 200 and 300 hours to create a fork that I could be proud of. When I consider this. This initial time, my apprehension is brought into focus. I told my friend about this and she was surprised. I was scared of saying this as I didn't want to admit it to myself. However, she quickly warmed to the idea as I told her what wanted to do with my time instead.
The thing that I want to do instead is what you are reading. I have found myself to thoroughly enjoy the experience of writing. Furthermore, I still feel drawn to it. This is different to how I feel when I think of the programming project. The latter is a burden and a chore. With my mind made up, a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I can see my future better. I don't know what's in it, but I know I'll be writing.