Hating Cosiness

I find myself hating Southfields. Sure, it’s extremely pretty, serene and I have a very nice place that I’m paying next to nothing for, but I had that back in Cape Town as well. I guess, at the end of the day, I didn’t go through the drama of packing up my life and flying 10,000 kilometres to live in a slightly worse version of where I already was still surrounded by thousands of South Africans.

Having the above play on my psyche, I find myself antagonistically resenting what in actual fact is a nice, cosy, innocent English suburb. I guess that I must frighten little children and their minders by firing hostile glares and wielding the cucumbers I buy at the local fruit and veg shop as twin daggers that I’m ready to plunge into the nearest passer-by. (Note: I purposefully exclude Britain’s old people here – they require something much more appropriate and reliable than a blunt cucumber; holy water or a sharpened crucifix preferably. I’ll write about them further as they deserve their own full tirade post.)

Basically, this is a colourful way of saying that I need to get the hell out of here.

London definitely has an amazing side, but it is also a city that one has to treat with respect and tackle consciously. It is frustratingly disappointing to see so many of my South African friends spending their time lost in the South West and ignoring a city that lays claim to being the most diverse on Earth.

The heart of Southfields - where it all happens

Obviously engaging is easier said than done, otherwise I would likely be snorting cocaine off some midget Swedish stripper’s breast rather than writing this post in my cosy abode, but I came to London because I wanted to change – and to change you need to open yourself up to new things, a new perception on life (even if you don’t agree with it, you need to give it a chance – anything less is dogma) and to remove yourself from your safe comfort zone.

The South Africans I see on a regular basis don’t seem to be changing anymore than if they had gone to another city or suburb in South Africa, and I see the same in many of the English people who live here. I guess that it is a truth and a danger the world over and I am worried that I am inclined to follow suit if left to my own devices.

So I have made a plan of attack: finances permitting, I will look to move to Greenwich by the end of the year. I haven’t chosen that area out of any particular logic. Rather, I have visited it a few times and have fallen in love with it. It also seems to be quite close to our new offices, which should save me an hour’s worth of commuting every day.

I doubt it’s the best choice (I’ve been here for three months; what do I know of London?), but at least it is both a choice and a step in the right direction (or at least, away from the wrong direction).

If nothing else, it’s a change.

Watching death gods and little boys

Ok, at 17 he’s not a little boy. But it makes for a better post title.

I’m of course referring to the anime, Death Note. One of London’s most painfully obvious characteristics is that its inhabitants are forced to ‘trudge’ a lot. A single wrong-turn, or getting on the wrong bus / train means that you lose half an hour of your day.

As such, after furiously exploring the city on the weekends and working equally fervently during the week I decided to pursue a bit of tactical cocooning. It is thus that I have ended up spending four hours watching the series on my laptop.

It tells the story of a death god who (not so accidentally) drops his notebook into the human world. Whoever is lucky / unlucky enough to pick it up, remains bound to it and the death god in ways that aren’t immediately clear.

The passerby in question this time happens to be one Light Yagami, the son of senior police officer Soichiro Yagami. Light is a top student and an ace sportsman. Unfortunately, these traits combine to leave him feeling bored with a drab, rotting world which he feels could be significantly improved upon.

Upon finding the Death Note and its instructions, he begins writing the names of criminals in it. Criminals who promptly die. As his actions spiral out of control, a special detective squad headed by the brilliant and eccentric L sets out to find the identity of this mysterious criminal killer.

The resulting game of cat and mouse makes for an extremely tense psychological and supernatural thriller. One is never sure who to cheer for, nor where each of the characters will draw the line. L in particular is an extremely well drawn out individual – moody, eccentric, mysterious and brilliant, he stands in stark contrast to the straight-forward excellence of his counterpart Light.

All in all, this is probably the best anime series that I’ve seen. It doesn’t have a lot of action or special effects, but it’s as absorbing as it gets. After a couple of episodes you’ll find yourself stuck to your screen dying to see how it’ll end. There are twists and turns aplenty, which will leave you perched on the edge of your seat.

Unfortunately, the moral dilemna of having someone carrying out justice whilst remaining unaccountable to the law is never fully explored. It is often hinted at by the conflicting opinions of the public, but the focus of Death Note remains squarely on the battles of wit and machinations of the various belligerents.