Out of the void

It's been months since I've updated my blog. February was rough. I was at my wits' end. I had given up. I was done.

In the nick of time, things happen.

I remember reading this amazing essay by Jeffrey Essman back in the winter called Work Is a Four-Letter Word about a man who suffers through 15 months of unemployment, getting by through freelancing, temping, whatever it takes. He can barely believe it when he gets a job. Life changes over night. He can buy things.

It was an essay that meant a lot to me after 17 months of unemployment and 7 months of couch surfing and subletting, doing whatever it took to get by, while clinging to my dreams. It gave me some reassurance, to know someone else went through this and came out on the bright side. I didn't have the strength of vision to see my happy ending coming, but it did.

I'm now three months into a job - a good one - that I somehow managed to be beat out 1,700 applicants for. That number baffles me. It's a huge number! There's a comma in it!

Day by day I'm feeling stronger and more myself. I'm regenerating, coming out of the void.

Things happen, sometimes, when there is nothing more you could possibly do by your own efforts. And the victory is never quite as sweet, as when it is also your salvation.

Down & Out in London

I got back last week from an amazing visit home to Vancouver, which was incredibly rushed and stressful and busy, but also fantastic and rewarding and great. Being home made me realize how much better my quality of life would be if I moved back. Vancouver is such a beautiful, special place, and things would be a million times easier if I went home. But while I tremendously miss friends and family and the delights of the city, I know that Vancouver isn't going anywhere. And the only thing that got me on the plane back to London was knowing that I always have the opportunity to life in Vancouver. I won't always have the opportunity to be elsewhere.

And really, I think the last thing I need right now is the comfort and safety of home. As much as I want it, as much as I want to feel safe and secure, I know that continuing the struggle is probably going to reap the best rewards. I need to fight these battles. These are the adventures I need to learn from, this is how I'm going to fill my mind with characters and stories, ideas and inspiration.

I hate living the life of a vagrant, which is what I've basically become as of late. I want my own room, my own safe quiet space. I don't want to be a burden to friends, and I don't want to continually feel uprooted, adrift. But this is just for a season, and I know that it is offering me opportunities that I would otherwise not gain. I'm starting an internship for the next few weeks at the BFI London Film Festival. November, I'm thinking seriously about arranging a research trip for a project I'm working on, which is something I could potentially only really do under these circumstances. A lot of good can come from this period, I just need to try and not be so disheartened. Things will pick up and carry on.

May? How is it May?

Battersea Power Station on a spring evening

My entries for the last couple months have been mostly pictorial. I guess I just haven't had the words. I'm going to try and find them again.

Since rock bottom, I've managed to get some job interviews. Nothing yet, but I feel like the momentum I'm gathering is leading towards something. I just need to keep plugging away.

Adela moved back to the States a few weeks ago, which was a brutally hard transition. It felt like a break up. We had spent most of our days together for 8 months, and her presence in my life and flat had become so integral to my sense of grounding and balance. As always, life goes on, but this was the hardest goodbye I've had since Jelena moved back to Sarajevo last summer.

I've more consciously started dating again, as the cynicism and disinterest of winter slowly begins to melt away. But the fact is, that I haven't met a single person since the fall that has even remotely piqued my romantic interest. Everyone bores me, and makes me feel boring at the same time. I'm still hung up on November, I think. There's nothing worse than finally meeting someone who seems amazing, and then watching it fall apart before it even begins. And when nothing else of consequence presents itself, I guess you remain holding onto that idea of promise, of untold potential.

I don't want to be one of those people that pines after someone they barely know. I'm not that person, and I always tell those people to move on, to stop being stupid and sad and to get over it. I just find that whole situation unfortunate though, because it was my eagerness that fucked things up, and killed something before it had the opportunity to get good. I think it could've been really good.

But it wasn't, and it isn't, and I need to keep an open mind and try to have faith that there are still interesting, engaging people in this city that are worth the time and effort. But the last season has reaffirmed that regardless, I'm fine. And I could be fine forever, if that's how the cards are dealt.

London, be good to me.

I'm running out of time, money, hope, and patience. I need a break, and I need it now.

Alright, London, alright... I still love you.

City Song

"The city called me so I came

It isn't mine to question what it said

I sleep until the point when I'm awake

I walk until there's nothing left to trek

And everyone is looking for an answer

And everyone is waiting for a break

I came and I was bored of it soon after

But I had nowhere to go and so I stayed

I dreamed a lifetime of this place

It seemed an awful thing to waste"

Emmy the Great

Over the past week, I've found myself missing Vancouver quite a bit. I think it's the first time I've actually really, really missed it since I moved to London in 2008. I always miss the forests and the ocean and the mountains and the accessibility of beautiful deep, dark wilderness. But Vancouver itself, not so much. So why now?

It may be because the city has been at the height of olympic fever for the last couple weeks, and that everyone seems to be having the time of their lives back at home. Or it may be because it's March and I'm still banging my head against the wall here in London. The city is waking up to spring, but I'm still frozen in the battles of the winter.

Now that I have my 2-year visa - now that I no longer have to fight to be in London - I don't even know if I want to be here anymore. I was convinced that I did, but maybe that was just because I had nowhere else I felt I wanted to go? Or because I was clinging onto something that is no longer here, or wasn't even here to begin with?

The last week is the first time in a long time that I've actually looked at Canada as being a possibility for the future; a place where I am relevant and wanted and loved. Lately I've felt really irrelevant and foreign in London, and like I'll always be an outsider. It's nice to know that somewhere in the world, I'm home, I'll always be home, and I don't have to fight for that right. I may never be a Londoner, but I'll always be a Vancouverite.

I've been listening incessantly to Emmy the Great over the last couple days, and it made me realize that some of the artists I have most fallen in love with over the last couple years have all been English, and tied to the London scene. The music that has resonated with me and kept me going is so entrenched in being young and lost and broken and in-and-out-of love in (and with) London.

I love London. And once I get my shit together, I know I'll be able to see that once again.

"I must've been drunk when we dated, 'cause nobody tells me what to do anymore."

After a month of visa-related anxiety, and a stupid hiccup that had me convinced I was going to be deported, I finally got my passport back from the UK Border Agency yesterday. I'm a LEGAL RESIDENT. I'm here. And I can be here until February 2012.

So I guess I can begin to feel grounded now, for a while. Which means I really need to get my shit together. I'm really bored with how things are right now. I'm bored with my patterns, I'm bored with my days, I'm bored with the people I'm meeting, etc. It's been a long time since something really inspired me. And this, of course, is all my fault.

The only thing that I'm really thrilled about right now, surprisingly, is the fact that I'm single. I think this is the first time in my life that I've actually really, really wanted to be single. Being with someone, for a while now, has just seemed so unnatural, so foreign. I get why it works for some people (though many of my friends that are with people, it's not working, it won't work), but I just can't envision myself in that position.

Maybe it's because I haven't met anyone I've found interesting in the longest time, maybe it's because I've just grown into my cynicism. I don't really know. The happiest I am right now, is alone: running in Battersea Park, walking on the Southbank, reading in bed, smoking an early-morning cigarette in the quiet solitude of our mews (not that I ever smoke).

I barely even have the stomach to socialise with anything but a select group of friends right now, how could I even begin to fall in love? Gross.

(Still, I guess a tiny part of me, somewhere, hopes everything I just wrote is a lie. I fear, however, that tiny part may be a voice from the past.)

Still crazy, after all these years...

Hana, Francois & Jean were in London the other weekend for a visit, coming in from Stockholm, Paris & Lyon, respectively. It was the first time I'd seen the Frenchmen since our visit in Paris back in autumn 2008.

Hard to believe it's coming up on five years this July since we all first met, back in the Singapore days. None of us have really changed. It's comforting, but also unsettling.

Goodbye, Katie. I love you, and I'll miss you!

(Katie is not dead, she just moved back to the States.)

London?

Hana at Cafe String in Stockholm

I'm thinking about applying for PhDs for next year, which has also had me thinking a lot about cities and countries and the future, and where I belong in this world.

I've really loved living in London, and part of me can see myself being really happy here in the future. The other part of me still has an insatiable curiosity for the world, and for experiencing life - not just travel - in new corners of it.

I'm not sure whether the fact that I've enjoyed London is necessarily a reason to not keep searching. I was really happy in Singapore, after all, but I know now that having returned would've been the worst mistake of my life. It was a nice chapter while it lasted, but Singapore was not my future.

I spent the other weekend in Stockholm with Hana, and we talked over the options. Hana is from Vancouver too, but we met in Singapore. She's Czech-born, has been doing her Master's in Sweden, and is starting med school in Ireland next year. We've been to 14 countries together across 3 continents. She's my other 'international' friend, and she understands me probably as much as anyone does. Thus, talking to her was really helpful, and discussing leaving London seemed a lot less scary when I was actually outside of England. When I'm in London, it's hard to picture myself elsewhere, like I'm caught in an urban vortex.

Maybe Amsterdam is the place for me? Or Berlin? Or maybe even New York? Or maybe London is indeed the perfect fit, but I'll likely always regret not trying other places while I was young and had the chance. If it's the place for me, I can always come back, right?

I know I learn the most about myself and the world when I'm living in a new city, and I want to keep learning. But at the same time, I also feel the desire for a little bit of stability; to lay down some roots; to build strong friendships; to perhaps have a long-term relationship.

London could be a great place to assert myself, to build the life I want. This prospect has been somewhat clouded by the fact that things have been really rough lately. I have been in a rut, and so I guess I have seen my life in London as also being in a rut. But things will pick up, surely, as they always do. And London will continue to be that great bustling metropolis; representing beauty, diversity, challenge and opportunity. I guess only time will tell whether that's going to be enough to keep me here.

Guy Fawkes Day in Clapham Common

I'm not in love, except with Autumn

Today is Sunday, and I spent it sprawled out in a pile of autumn leaves in Finsbury Park, watching children, dogs and lovers frolic around me in the colourful leaves that littered the ground. It was beautiful.

I'm not in love, I don't have a job, our shower is broken, our internet isn't working, the days are getting colder and darker, and I have no idea what I want from my life, but still, I'm happy. Today, I'm happy.

Adorned with the fleeting warmth of the autumn sun, crunching alone through the leaves with nowhere to go and nobody to see, I realized that for now, this is all I really needed.

This is all I really need.

Back in the Fast Lane

Sarajevo

My first week back in London was a bit shitty. I got the worst jetlag I think I've ever had, and wandered around the city like a zombie. So many of the people I loved in this city have moved away in the short time I've been gone, and their ghosts lingered on street corners. To make things even more grim, the rain began to fall. And fall. And fall.

I booked a ticket to Sarajevo, and 36-hours later I was greeted at the airport by my dear Jelena. Two other close friends who are moving from London to Singapore (sad!) were also visiting her, which is a large part of the reason I decided to go. We had a great time in Sarajevo, which really charmed me the second time around, and then spent the weekend in Dubrovnik, soaking up sunshine beside the sea. They had rented an amazing flat just outside the walls of the old town with a great view over the harbour and the city, and a little garden in the back where we drank too much at night and recovered over coffee and breakfast the following mornings.

I came back to London totally rejuvenated. Being with people I love - and possibly the people that understood me and tolerated me the most in London - was exactly what I needed. I had no idea how drained I really was, never really getting a holiday after the dissertation wrapped up. It was the perfect last-minute decision.

And now I'm back to London, out of the funk I was in, ready to move on and start (re)building a life. Applying for jobs, getting settled into our new flat, making new friends, maybe even dating again. Life, as always, moves on. And I'm okay with that.

One battle won; the neverending fight of London approaches

The dissertation is done.  Done!  Not necessarily done well, but printed and stapled and submitted and, therefore, finished.

Right now I'm sprawled out on the sofa on my parent's patio, wrapped up in a light blanket, listening to the late-summer rain fall around me, Noah and the Whale playing in the background.  I just want to be alone here in this moment.  I don't want to go anywhere, and I don't want to see anyone, and I don't want to do anything.  I just want to be alone and quiet.

But I'm returning to the bustle of London in 5 days, and I've got far too many goodbyes (and hellos) to say before then, and so much to do to get ready.  Oh, London.  You seem so far away from me right now.  And I'm afraid to return to you.  I don't want to start living again, just yet.  And London forces me to live, or even more, to fight to live.  And that reality, as I lay here listening to raindrops fall on the green leaves of the backyard garden, is a bit overwhelming.  I'm not sure I'm ready to fight again. Yet.

The End; The Beginning

What a miserable week. Starting to say goodbyes to friends that are leaving London, many of which I will not be seeing again for a very long time. I myself am moving flats tomorrow, leaving my beloved Southbank behind to stay with friends in West Hampstead before returning to Canada in a couple weeks. I still haven't booked a flight, which is ridiculous, and adds so much stress to an already stressful enough chapter. My last dissertation meeting with my supervisor is tomorrow. I'm not prepared. I'm overwhelmed. And just trying to get packed is too much for me. How did I accumulate so much stuff? And how can I pack myself neatly into two suitcases?

The icing on the cake this week has been the break-up. Our two-month was (uncelebrated) about a week and a half ago. Things haven't been as good lately, nor have they been bad, I've just assumed that the problem was the typical British emotional unavailability, and that once that was overcome things would be better, like they were in the start. But I think I secretly knew that wasn't the problem; it just wasn't meant to be. I can tell myself that, but that hasn't changed the fact that I've been shocked twice now to find myself in tears, both times when talking to my sister on the phone. I'm not sure whether I'm crying over the break-up, even, or just the disappointment. This year in London has been so amazing, and simultaneously so laden with disappointment. I think part of the reason I was hoping this relationship would last over the summer until I returned to London in September, was just to finish the year with a blazing victory. To return home triumphantly in love. But there's no triumph in a love that isn't meant to be, and I know my heart will catch up with my head soon enough in that regard. I know I'll get over the ache, as I always do. It's always just so sad saying goodbye to people. Because yes, you say goodbye to all their bullshit and their ridiculousness and the things that piss you off and drive you crazy, but you also say goodbye to the qualities that captured your heart in the first place, and the ones that redeemed them in your eyes for so long, and the things you know are specific to them, specific to your time together, and untouchably special despite the way things turned out.

Sorting through all my junk and papers yesterday, while listening to a break-up mix CD I made for a friend in the spring, I came across a ticket stub for Breathless at the BFI from our second date, when we first held hands, a ticket for High Gate Cemetery, the day we had our first kiss, and a pamphlet from the Wetlands Centre, the date that confirmed things for me. It's been a great fling. And I think thinking of the beginning yesterday made me so much sadder about it all, but also so much more aware that things are no longer as they were.

And so begins another transitionary period. Yet another one.

Spring Fling

Well, it's spring in London: the days are warm and long, the air is filled with pollen and cotton, and smiling people are coming out of hibernation to fill green leafy parks and bustling streets. In short, lovely.

I've been seeing someone new recently, enjoying somewhat of a spring fling, which is making the season all the more enjoyable. It's only been a few weeks, but it's been surprising and interesting and a lot of fun. There's nothing quite like falling for someone in the spring. There's so much optimism.

A brief return to London

Tracey came to visit.

I also found a new potential love interest. Potentially the best I've found so far. I know better than to get my hopes up by now, but I'm being optimistic in general these days, instead of in specific. It's the only way I'll pull through.

Date three, after Cyprus, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon... And yes, I'm tired already.

My Heart Is Where The Waves Crash

It's March 1st, which is scary, as I only have 3 weeks of class left at LSE. It's nearly Spring now, and I actually saw cherry blossoms on Portobello Road the other day. We've been getting some lovely mild sunny days, and picnic season is now in the foreseeable future. I also, maybe, am falling for someone. It's too early to say; I don't want to jinx it, but it's nice. It's really nice.

Today I was having a late-afternoon brunch with my friend Ariel. We both had tons of school work to do afterward, but we talked of how nice it would be to get out of the city and take a bit of a break, have a bit of an adventure. And we did.

Two hours later we were in Brighton, just in time to grab a cup of tea and watch the sunset from the beach. I miss the ocean so much, and it was so invigorating to spend a couple hours there listening to seagulls and to the waves gently caress the pebbled seashore.

And as it goes with a city you love, it was nice to come back to London too.

Sometimes London Makes It All Better

It's amazing how quickly things turn around in life, and in London. What a difference a month, a week or a day - or just a good night's sleep - can truly make.

I was walking home today along the Thames with the sun shining down on me while I listened to Patrick Wolf's "The Magic Position." Some of my best moments in London have been walking alone along the Thames listening to music that fits perfectly in the moment. And when the sun bursts through the clouds after days of rain and grey, it makes you take a look around and recognize how beautiful things really are. It brings me back to centre.

I've got two dates arranged next week - two dates that came, more or less, out of nowhere - with people who both seem worthy of the aforementioned butterflies. But moreover, I'm more in-tune with the fact that I see a dozen faces everyday that I could easily fall in love with. The opportunities abound. There's no reason to get discouraged. Life is good. London is great. I am really happy.

London really does make it all better sometimes.

Toronto (is not my lover)

I stopped in Toronto for two nights on my way back to Vancouver for the holidays. Part of me just wanted to see it (it's my country's largest city, and I've never actually been) and visit some friends, but another part of me was window shopping for a new city. It seems like in the last year or two, every time I go to a new city I’m more consciously assessing whether or not I can see myself there. I know Vancouver well (obviously, it’s my home), and find it has a combination of beautiful urban qualities unmatched by any other global city I’ve been to. I love it, but I’m not convinced I’m meant to end up there forever. London I love, and I can picture myself being very satisfied there long-term. The cultural and professional opportunities - coupled with the general charm of the city and the (Vancouver-like) mild climate - are exactly what I’m looking for. But at the same time, I’m open to another city sweeping me off my feet; I’m open to an endless number of urban possibilities.

Toronto is (in many regards) the cultural and economic centre of (Anglo) Canada, with a population twice the size of Vancouver’s. I like the fact that the music scene is better, that so many companies are headquartered there, that I can get a good job easily, etc. On paper Toronto seems like it has a lot to offer me, and so I was totally open to being charmed and courted. And to be honest, I was partly hoping it would win me over. Five million people seems like two-point-seven-million more opportunities to fall in love and be happy than in Vancouver. But in the end, Toronto didn’t really reach out to me. I realize you can’t really make judgements about a city in 36 hours, but sometimes you just know. I liked it, but I'm not sure it's in my cards.

And so, my thoughts return to London. Beautiful London. I’ll see you again in three weeks! Though I must admit that I’m going window shopping in NYC in January, and as always, I’ll keep an open mind.