Three days ago my boyfriend excitedly pointed out…
“Wow…you’ve been here for a month!”
Hmmm….yes…yes, I have…
Unfortunately my boyfriend did not know me during my London/Banbury/New Orleans days. Actually – this might be for the best. My New Orleans days occurred at the height of my travel itch – I couldn’t sit still to save my life, and my life revolved around my backpack and credit card. Apparently London/Banbury occurred at the end of the jitter, because for as much as I still want to travel, I started to crave stability more than anything else (whatta mistake!).
FYI - Never, under any circumstances, should you tell your present boyfriend:
"All of my other boyfriends lived in way more exotic places than you do..." It might be true, but it doesn't go over so well (especially when your present love interest hasn't traveled).
The point though – my boyfriend never learned that there are certain things that shouldn’t be pointed out. The fact that I have been here a month is one of those things.
Here’s why…
He said: “Wow…you’ve been here a month!”
I heard:
….a collision, of sorts….
….the world grinding to a halt….
….the walls closing in….
….panic, woah…realization…flooding thoughts….I’m living with my boyfriend (I hate commitment)…I miss stability…I miss my dogs…I miss my home…I miss a clear sky (no smog)….work…need work….where is there work?...money…need money….ESCAPE…
But yes. I’ve been here a month.
It’s not London. It's not New Orleans. It’s far from exciting. I could spend all day staring at a wall, and not feel any the worse for it (because really, I’m not missing anything). I shouldn’t compare it to London – or anywhere else I’ve been…but it ain’t no Istanbul either. Or St. Petersburg. Or Panajachel. Or Mitchell, South Dakota (now that’s bad).
Maybe this experience is making me start to crave what I thought I gave up (and no, not just cigarettes).
Sure, I’m periodically mystified by things in this town.
For instance: walking outdoors, you know it is sunny, even though you can’t actually see the sun…or the sky…
And here, they drive like they are in Toronto but live like they are in the Ozarks (hate me for saying it, but it’s true).
But I’m also mystified as to why Timbaland degraded himself by collaborating by Miley Cyrus (c’mon now!)
Ya. So I’ve here for a month…
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Friday, 12 March 2010
Tuesday, 16 February 2010
Southern Cooking
Ahhh…a Tuesday night in small-town Southern Ontario. Ok…not truly small-town, but smaller than Thunder Bay.
I have already recognized the dangers of living here – namely the re-embracing of my former travel-happy self. Yes, the destinations have been fairly insignificant thus far, but there is a definite novelty with proximity. 24 hours after arriving here (and after a 15 hour drive, might I add) I found myself driving down 8 Mile in Detroit. No, I wasn’t sightseeing based on the Eminem movie – I was looking for Popeye’s Chicken & Biscuits. For the record – getting lost in Detroit after dark, with minimal sleep – I’m not sure I would recommend it.
Family Day was spent tooling around Frankenmuth, Michigan. Don’t get me wrong – I love Frankenmuth – but we weren’t there for the quaint Bavarian feel…we were there for Zehnder’s chicken. I’m telling you – I have spent the past eight years drooling over Zehnder’s. Never fear though – we also discovered the Zehnder’s bakery (delicious butter cream). And some Bavarian stuff down the street. But really, it was all for the Zehnders.
Ok, aside from the eating potential (I am soooo close to so many delicious things), I can actually see this move being problematic. Already I have found myself already scoping out the Air Canada website - I’m close enough to Toronto, that suddenly it is actually AFFORDABLE to fly to exotic locales. Oh – and a winery tour of Niagara Falls, sounds absolutely amazing (ya, free samples = easy drunk). The only minor detail standing between me and the world – employment. Those job things are really hard to find at the moment – which means it is make or break time. I need to either bite the call-centre bullet or jump ship back to the north. I’d like to think that there is an easy answer, but until jobs start dropping out of the sky, this is something I will have to sort out.
I have already recognized the dangers of living here – namely the re-embracing of my former travel-happy self. Yes, the destinations have been fairly insignificant thus far, but there is a definite novelty with proximity. 24 hours after arriving here (and after a 15 hour drive, might I add) I found myself driving down 8 Mile in Detroit. No, I wasn’t sightseeing based on the Eminem movie – I was looking for Popeye’s Chicken & Biscuits. For the record – getting lost in Detroit after dark, with minimal sleep – I’m not sure I would recommend it.
Family Day was spent tooling around Frankenmuth, Michigan. Don’t get me wrong – I love Frankenmuth – but we weren’t there for the quaint Bavarian feel…we were there for Zehnder’s chicken. I’m telling you – I have spent the past eight years drooling over Zehnder’s. Never fear though – we also discovered the Zehnder’s bakery (delicious butter cream). And some Bavarian stuff down the street. But really, it was all for the Zehnders.
Ok, aside from the eating potential (I am soooo close to so many delicious things), I can actually see this move being problematic. Already I have found myself already scoping out the Air Canada website - I’m close enough to Toronto, that suddenly it is actually AFFORDABLE to fly to exotic locales. Oh – and a winery tour of Niagara Falls, sounds absolutely amazing (ya, free samples = easy drunk). The only minor detail standing between me and the world – employment. Those job things are really hard to find at the moment – which means it is make or break time. I need to either bite the call-centre bullet or jump ship back to the north. I’d like to think that there is an easy answer, but until jobs start dropping out of the sky, this is something I will have to sort out.
Tuesday, 2 December 2008
Lessons to London
Two weeks back in the Bay, and as far out in left field as ever. I don’t know if it is to my advantage that I still feel displaced. Usually, when you return from a vacation, or time abroad, it takes you a couple of days to get back into your schedule. Yes, you pine for the experience, but life goes on again. It is inevitable.
My life isn’t going on….
Maybe it was because I was not vacationing; maybe it was because I went with the intent to stay, but I am not readjusting to my life. I am in limbo, and am moderately displaced. London was my independence, my career, and my ambition. Home is my safety net, in which I can hide from all challenges. This time though, the challenge is in being home. Honestly, I am OK with the displacement at the moment – that is what keeps me motivated to return. I am continually asked- why not teach in Thunder Bay? Ontario? Canada? Closer to home? etc etc etc. That is where people miss the point. If I am going to teach, I want the full experience. I want to live on my own, in a place completely separated from Thunder Bay, have the career, and the independence. God, I want my independence. I want to say that I can cope with change, experience what most people only dream of, and be the person that I thought I was.
I am still kicking myself for coming back here. I made the mistake of letting my emotions govern my head, in a moment of weakness. I should have just gone out and signed with another agency. But then, there was that substantial financial risk – I could still be sitting in London with moderate amounts of work. And stressing about it; so much stress! Instead, I disrupted my transition by returning here, which in retrospect I should not have done. Why? Because when I go back, I will have to start from emotional scratch again – right?
The past year has posed many challenges, and yet I am not sure I am any further ahead. Maybe in personal growth (if you want to look at it from a teacher’s perspective!! HA HA HA). It has been a year since I decided to loose my university weight. I still have a bit to go, but that has been moderately successful, yet an emotional rollercoaster ride. I can’t say that I’ve particularly enjoyed it (but that is a whole separate blog entry!). Then there was Banbury. Oh Banbury….what can be said about that? I wasn’t ready for Banbury – I made so many mistakes in deciding to go. Aside from taking a terrible contract, I emotionally wasn’t ready. So disassociated from my decision was I, that I rushed into a decision with no prior knowledge. Is that not the basis of teaching? Prior knowledge, scaffolding, etc. I know the buzz terms and yet, I do not live by them. So what brought me to Banbury – the realization that I was suddenly hitting an age in which I am supposed to have answers. Suddenly I needed to have my career, be moved out of my family home, have a direction, and have the future all figured out. Leap first…
I was far from ready for Banbury though. I was so scared about weight (sad, but true), money, my career decision, etc. Add all of the apprehension and uncertainty and Banbury was on route for a cataclysmic crash. Under the right circumstances (or mentality) I could have made the bad contract work out. I tried to change my life overnight (and still remain emotionally detached from it) and that does not happen.
And so back to Thunder Bay I went. And I was OK when I got here. I expected to have a crash when I returned, but I did not. I went on living, although still detached from my life. I did not really think too much about Banbury, and yet debated myself on a daily basis. And over time, as I numbed Banbury, I realized that I wanted to return to England and try again. Wait…no…it wasn’t nearly so romantic as it sounds. One day I woke up and realized that I needed to either sh*t or get off the pot (that is the expression, after all) and decided to stop debating myself, and go back to England. I wasn’t disassociated from this decision; I had every emotion possible.
And then came London. Moving is always a difficult task; for some reason it is harder when there is an ocean between you and home. That “home will always be there” mentality doesn’t really help. No matter how you try to convince yourself that “home is merely a plane ride away”, it is still an incredibly lonely experience. You have two options – either let that loneliness consume you, or force yourself to integrate with society. I let my loneliness consume me – initially. Sometimes you forget about that lag-time – you know what I mean; the time between continual upheaval and settling. Moving to London was a huge upheaval, and settling seemed like a distant illusion. Then arises the larger problem (and I did discuss this while in London) – integrating your home life with your present life. Two lives? No I’m not crazy (much).
When you try to establish a new life, completely separated from your familiarity, you begin to see your old life slipping away. You start to worry about your old life forgetting you. I had this plan that I could lessen the blow by staying well connected to home (technology, you see!). I don’t think that is a good solution though – by staying in constant contact with home you actually impede yourself from adapting to your new environment. Or integrating yourself with it. You begin to realize how far removed you are. It becomes harder to function, and eventually it gets harder to breathe. The only answer to all of this? Establish a happy median, in which you stay connected, but gradually lessen the connection.
I have been fortunate; I have had people who have come with me on this bumpy ride. Through the weight loss, Banbury, London, the Thunder Bay Fallout (that’s what we shall call it from here on). My Mom mainly, a couple of friends who have heard me ponder, breakdown, rise up, break back down, and remained fairly tolerant of my indecisiveness. I have made no secret of my commitment issues, but there comes a point that you have to commit to something. It is the same point at which you also realize that you need to move on with your life. So back to the original point of this entry – why am I not teaching closer to home? Because I want to experience life, and it is time for me to leave the safety net and establish my own independence. It is easier said than done, right? I just hope that as long as I maintain this displacement, I will continue with my desire to return.
My life isn’t going on….
Maybe it was because I was not vacationing; maybe it was because I went with the intent to stay, but I am not readjusting to my life. I am in limbo, and am moderately displaced. London was my independence, my career, and my ambition. Home is my safety net, in which I can hide from all challenges. This time though, the challenge is in being home. Honestly, I am OK with the displacement at the moment – that is what keeps me motivated to return. I am continually asked- why not teach in Thunder Bay? Ontario? Canada? Closer to home? etc etc etc. That is where people miss the point. If I am going to teach, I want the full experience. I want to live on my own, in a place completely separated from Thunder Bay, have the career, and the independence. God, I want my independence. I want to say that I can cope with change, experience what most people only dream of, and be the person that I thought I was.
I am still kicking myself for coming back here. I made the mistake of letting my emotions govern my head, in a moment of weakness. I should have just gone out and signed with another agency. But then, there was that substantial financial risk – I could still be sitting in London with moderate amounts of work. And stressing about it; so much stress! Instead, I disrupted my transition by returning here, which in retrospect I should not have done. Why? Because when I go back, I will have to start from emotional scratch again – right?
The past year has posed many challenges, and yet I am not sure I am any further ahead. Maybe in personal growth (if you want to look at it from a teacher’s perspective!! HA HA HA). It has been a year since I decided to loose my university weight. I still have a bit to go, but that has been moderately successful, yet an emotional rollercoaster ride. I can’t say that I’ve particularly enjoyed it (but that is a whole separate blog entry!). Then there was Banbury. Oh Banbury….what can be said about that? I wasn’t ready for Banbury – I made so many mistakes in deciding to go. Aside from taking a terrible contract, I emotionally wasn’t ready. So disassociated from my decision was I, that I rushed into a decision with no prior knowledge. Is that not the basis of teaching? Prior knowledge, scaffolding, etc. I know the buzz terms and yet, I do not live by them. So what brought me to Banbury – the realization that I was suddenly hitting an age in which I am supposed to have answers. Suddenly I needed to have my career, be moved out of my family home, have a direction, and have the future all figured out. Leap first…
I was far from ready for Banbury though. I was so scared about weight (sad, but true), money, my career decision, etc. Add all of the apprehension and uncertainty and Banbury was on route for a cataclysmic crash. Under the right circumstances (or mentality) I could have made the bad contract work out. I tried to change my life overnight (and still remain emotionally detached from it) and that does not happen.
And so back to Thunder Bay I went. And I was OK when I got here. I expected to have a crash when I returned, but I did not. I went on living, although still detached from my life. I did not really think too much about Banbury, and yet debated myself on a daily basis. And over time, as I numbed Banbury, I realized that I wanted to return to England and try again. Wait…no…it wasn’t nearly so romantic as it sounds. One day I woke up and realized that I needed to either sh*t or get off the pot (that is the expression, after all) and decided to stop debating myself, and go back to England. I wasn’t disassociated from this decision; I had every emotion possible.
And then came London. Moving is always a difficult task; for some reason it is harder when there is an ocean between you and home. That “home will always be there” mentality doesn’t really help. No matter how you try to convince yourself that “home is merely a plane ride away”, it is still an incredibly lonely experience. You have two options – either let that loneliness consume you, or force yourself to integrate with society. I let my loneliness consume me – initially. Sometimes you forget about that lag-time – you know what I mean; the time between continual upheaval and settling. Moving to London was a huge upheaval, and settling seemed like a distant illusion. Then arises the larger problem (and I did discuss this while in London) – integrating your home life with your present life. Two lives? No I’m not crazy (much).
When you try to establish a new life, completely separated from your familiarity, you begin to see your old life slipping away. You start to worry about your old life forgetting you. I had this plan that I could lessen the blow by staying well connected to home (technology, you see!). I don’t think that is a good solution though – by staying in constant contact with home you actually impede yourself from adapting to your new environment. Or integrating yourself with it. You begin to realize how far removed you are. It becomes harder to function, and eventually it gets harder to breathe. The only answer to all of this? Establish a happy median, in which you stay connected, but gradually lessen the connection.
I have been fortunate; I have had people who have come with me on this bumpy ride. Through the weight loss, Banbury, London, the Thunder Bay Fallout (that’s what we shall call it from here on). My Mom mainly, a couple of friends who have heard me ponder, breakdown, rise up, break back down, and remained fairly tolerant of my indecisiveness. I have made no secret of my commitment issues, but there comes a point that you have to commit to something. It is the same point at which you also realize that you need to move on with your life. So back to the original point of this entry – why am I not teaching closer to home? Because I want to experience life, and it is time for me to leave the safety net and establish my own independence. It is easier said than done, right? I just hope that as long as I maintain this displacement, I will continue with my desire to return.
Friday, 7 November 2008
London Transition
I am peeved. Normally I would be excited that it was Friday; yesterday at this time I thought it was the greatest realization in the world – I had made it through the week. Today – not so much. After a particularly rough day in the classroom, I am ticked off.
Last night at 10pm, I was informed that I needed to move out of my hotel this morning. I had previously informed the hotel that I would be staying until Sunday (at which point I am moving into a hostel). Due to an apparent break down in communication, the hotel interpreted that to mean that they could give away my room beginning on Friday. After a mad dash to pack up, and a rather sleeplessness night, I am not a happy camper. Realizing there mistake they are putting me up in a room across the road. Still not particularly happy, because I now have to move twice this weekend! Regardless, I agreed to the move.
So today, at the end of my day, I was looking forward to grabbing my bags and moving. Lo and behold, the room across the road is not yet ready. I am tired, and have had one of those days that makes me question whether I really want to continue teaching. I want to move now. Grrr….some days I feel like for every one step forward, I end up taking ten steps back. Going home is looking more and more tempting…
Last night at 10pm, I was informed that I needed to move out of my hotel this morning. I had previously informed the hotel that I would be staying until Sunday (at which point I am moving into a hostel). Due to an apparent break down in communication, the hotel interpreted that to mean that they could give away my room beginning on Friday. After a mad dash to pack up, and a rather sleeplessness night, I am not a happy camper. Realizing there mistake they are putting me up in a room across the road. Still not particularly happy, because I now have to move twice this weekend! Regardless, I agreed to the move.
So today, at the end of my day, I was looking forward to grabbing my bags and moving. Lo and behold, the room across the road is not yet ready. I am tired, and have had one of those days that makes me question whether I really want to continue teaching. I want to move now. Grrr….some days I feel like for every one step forward, I end up taking ten steps back. Going home is looking more and more tempting…
Thursday, 17 April 2008
How A Canadian ends up in Banbury
So to get everyone on the same page - I need to answer the question...how exactly does a Canadian end up in Banbury? I wouldn't say I moved here on a whim - well not exactly. Four months ago, out of the blue, I had a recruiter contact me about moving to England. At that point was perfectly content to live out my days as an unemployed bum. Ok..not quite - but you get the point. I wasn't unemployed entirely - I was on a leave of absense from my hour a day job due to distress - how one gets distressed in an hour a day job is beyond me - but I did. All I knew was that I desperately needed to get out of my hometown - picture economic instability mixed with alcoholism, and a dash of depression. Plus there was snow...and cold. Why not trade all that in for rain?
So anyway..the recruiter gets in touch with me - and hey! I've really got nothing better going on. So why not move to the UK? I'd thought about it before. Sure, I'll move. But it has to happen QUICKLY - I can't sit around and ponder this until September, because I will talk myself out of it (welcome to the inner workings of my mind). Soooo....long story short: 3 recruiters and 2 months later, I accept the first job offer that comes along...in Banbury. 6 weeks after that, I'm on an Air Canada flight into Heathrow Airport.
In the weeks leading up to my departure, I truly had no feelings over my move. Of course I was regularly asked
"Are you excited?"
"No."
"Are you nervous?"
"No."
"How long are you going for?"
"I don't know"
"What are you teaching?"
"Science"
"To what grade?"
"I don't know."
"What's Banbury like?"
"I don't know."
My answers were largely noncommital, and "I don't know" became my motto. My feelings towards the move were largely detached. I'm not sure if that was a good sign, or a bad one - but needless to say, on April 9th I packed up and moved continents.
So...an hour outside of London, emotionally detached me is nearing the end of her journey - and suddenly the reality hits me (4 months late, I realize)..."holy *explitive* what the *explitive* am I doing?". Panic. More panic. Deep breaths. Turbulance (unrelated to this, but still unnerving). These were the longest seconds of my life - luckily I am emotionally detached, and after 5 seconds I overcame reality and went back to my ignorant contentment.
So...to sum up...that is how a Canadian ends up in Banbury. Emotional detachment, indecisiveness, and the overwhelming need for change. Welcome to my reality :)
So anyway..the recruiter gets in touch with me - and hey! I've really got nothing better going on. So why not move to the UK? I'd thought about it before. Sure, I'll move. But it has to happen QUICKLY - I can't sit around and ponder this until September, because I will talk myself out of it (welcome to the inner workings of my mind). Soooo....long story short: 3 recruiters and 2 months later, I accept the first job offer that comes along...in Banbury. 6 weeks after that, I'm on an Air Canada flight into Heathrow Airport.
In the weeks leading up to my departure, I truly had no feelings over my move. Of course I was regularly asked
"Are you excited?"
"No."
"Are you nervous?"
"No."
"How long are you going for?"
"I don't know"
"What are you teaching?"
"Science"
"To what grade?"
"I don't know."
"What's Banbury like?"
"I don't know."
My answers were largely noncommital, and "I don't know" became my motto. My feelings towards the move were largely detached. I'm not sure if that was a good sign, or a bad one - but needless to say, on April 9th I packed up and moved continents.
So...an hour outside of London, emotionally detached me is nearing the end of her journey - and suddenly the reality hits me (4 months late, I realize)..."holy *explitive* what the *explitive* am I doing?". Panic. More panic. Deep breaths. Turbulance (unrelated to this, but still unnerving). These were the longest seconds of my life - luckily I am emotionally detached, and after 5 seconds I overcame reality and went back to my ignorant contentment.
So...to sum up...that is how a Canadian ends up in Banbury. Emotional detachment, indecisiveness, and the overwhelming need for change. Welcome to my reality :)
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