Adventures in Hard Decision-Making

I've been frozen in inaction for quite some time. With my lease and job coming to and end this month, though, it was time to make big decisions. And the decision I ended up making was one I didn't even realise was an option 10 days ago: homelessness.

I'm handing in my keys tomorrow morning, and I'm no longer looking for another flat. I'll be staying with friends for the next couple weeks, going back to Vancouver for a couple more weeks, then back to London early October. I feel like this is exactly the decision I need to make, the decision that will give me a bit of a financial and emotional reprieve, and allow me to garner some momentum, to concentrate on taking some big steps forward, professionally. That has to be my number one priority right now.

So I feel good about the decision, even if I feel bad about being without a home. I'm so thankful for the generosity of my friends in London, though, who have stepped forward to offer couches and storage and hugs. In that regard, I'm the richest boy in town.

Last night was my final sleep at Warwick Way, and the few hours I managed to squeeze in between packing and cleaning was interrupted by haunting, haunting dreams that left me tired and unsettled this morning, and sad about this transition. But there is opportunity and adventure in the months ahead, and the blessings of friends and of choice, and I need to cling onto the positivity of the situation, and concentrate on things I can productively work towards.

I'm committed to put love on the back burner for now, but the universe is cruel, and I'm not safe in my dreams. Waking up is hard when you get what you want - who you want - only when you're sleeping.

Tomorrow, Sarajevo. Saturday, Austria. Tuesday, back to London. And a couple weeks later, beautiful Vancouver: home. The waking hours are going to be good!

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.

Montreal

So, I’ve really trimmed down...  

After losing 30 lbs (after my switch to a balanced vegetarian diet, sans sodium, caffeine, and refined sugar, and jogging 15-20 kms per week) none of my clothes fit anymore.  I dug deep into my drawers and purged nearly everything, as nothing fit any longer.

 

It was, yet again, another chance to start over.  Filling bag after bag with clothing for charity was far more therapeutic than I could have ever imagined.  It scared me to realize that I had so many clothes in my possession, I had actually lost track of what I owned.

 

After the great purge, I can now name every item of clothing I own, probably right down to my socks and underwear.  That’s an empowering feeling in an age where people are always looking for more closet space.  I can fit everything I own nicely in a suitcase and move across the world without having to pick and choose.  It all fits!  Though I must admit, I took two suitcases with me (just because I could). 

 

I spent a few days in Montreal on my way to London, England: my new home.  

In my suitcase, you will find:

8 T-shirts

5 dress shirts

3 pairs of jeans

1 pair of pants

1 pair of shorts

1 cardigan

This is still a lot, I suppose.  It’s definitely excess, but it’s an improvement.  It feels great to have such a manageable collection of possessions.  I wonder how it would feel to have only 2 changes of clothes.  I really do believe that the fewer the material possessions, the lighter the soul.  My soul needs to be lighter.  And lets be honest, so does my body.  I’ve got a long, long way to go. 

I have a dream that I will lose another 30 lbs and be emo skinny, and then will go on a trip with nothing but a change of underwear, a camera, and a toothbrush.  I have a lot of dreams though, you see. A lot.

Montreal is a city that I have long dreamed about.  I always thought it would feel just like home to me.  I expected to be blown away by it.  I expected magic and fireworks on every corner.  I didn't find it.

I think you have to be in love to really enjoy Montreal in all its glory.  In love, and fluent in French.  At the moment, neither are realities for me.  But they are both dreams.

Blurg...