I feel like I’m supposed to give a “support group meeting” type of introduction. My name is Sara Golnabi, and I have been writing for 13 years. I wouldn’t say I’m addicted to writing like I am, say, to Starbucks —I’ve just grown a tiny bit dependent on it. It’s not a bad thing though, is it? I mean, writing keeps me off the streets and controls my unwarranted levels of sass, so we should actually all be thanking WordPress for letting me do this.
But as you can probably tell by the name of this blog, I’m not just here for my writing. I’ve come to realize that there’s two things in this world whose thought gives me butterflies: travel and architecture. So I’m learning to combine the two, using my writing addiction for good, and test my boundaries as an aspiring explorer and future architect.
Books, stories, sentences, words… they’re all just infinite combinations of letters. It’s odd how I can arrange them to say “I love you” or “Sorry I ate the last pizza slice” and each combination incites – very different – emotions.
In a perfect world I would have become a writer. A pen and paper have always been my go-to on a bad day, a good day and, let’s face it, any sort of day. It was in my journals, notebooks and Word documents that I could always be myself. My writing usually only saw my own eyes, remained to a stranger an incoherent disposition of letters stamped on a blank sheet of paper. So I decided to make (some of) my writing public. Maybe it’s to make my voice heard, to understand it and to feel understood. But it’s also to prove to myself that I have a voice. A pretty damn decent one, too. And if along the way I meet a few eyes that like the way I combine my letters, then I guess it’s a win-win.
I like to compare my life to a travelling circus. Instead of in trains and trailers, I spend most of my time in planes: watching movies, pacing up and down the aisles and making faces at the baby sitting in front of me. Plane rides are interludes, pauses, the only routine I have in my constantly changing life.
When someone asks the typical “Where are you from?”, I’m that girl who responds with five sentences instead of a single word. My parents are Iranian, I was born and raised in Spain. I temporarily lived in the US twice: for two years when I was seven and for four years when I was 14. Now I’m moving to the UK. Yes, obnoxious, I know, but a good conversation starter.
As a member of this circus, I get to embrace my nomadic tendencies and anticipate on each plane ride how my next act will go. On the way I pick up pieces from an endless array of people and leave in each place a part of myself. That’s what makes culture such and important part of who I am. So here I want to share my experiences and inspire you to do the same. To live life for the ride, even if it’s surrounded by the not-so-subtly insane.
When I was five years old, I made crowns out of cardboard, wands out of straws and dresses out of old tablecloth. I also designed castles. I was no child prodigy, so my drawings were as good as any other’s. But I did my best to convey details on gates, towers and walls. As years passed my room filled with piles of plans and drafts of dream houses, imaginary parks and futuristic cities. It wasn’t until I was eleven years old that I knew I wanted to be an architect.
I am now a first year Architecture student at the University of Kent, Canterbury. Although right now I’m just warming up and learning the basics, becoming an architect has been a huge goal of mine for as long as I can remember. Here, I want to document my journey as an architect, starting from the very first steps, as hideous, most barbarically rudimentary as they may be.