those couches, they’re are a slippery slope

it scares me when people my age begin to make big “investment” type purchases and post about these on Facebook.  Remember when our statuses used to be about our big nights out, or cramming for exams, or YouTube video links to the clip of the week?

now you’re telling us about your newly purchased couch, car, house or crock-pot. i’m not against domestic goods, nor am I really into YouTube, but it’s what the transition is symbolic of.  you’re settling down.  and i’m not, yet.

you probably won’t be jettisoning off to the UK to visit me anytime soon because you’re too worried about your couch payments or your mortgage or feeding your cat.

i still like you though. i’m just not there yet, but when i arrive, we can all talk about how much we hate the rising interest rates and how we fundamentally oppose the concept of pet-sitting.

anyways, i’m off to book a train ticket, later.

inner monologues #1

It was about 2 minutes into my Tube ride to work that my iPod battery died.  Crap, I thought to myself, I can’t go without music in the morning. It’s my version of coffee.

I’m forced to take off my headphones and look at those around me, instead of losing myself in my own little world for 20 minutes as I cruise the Central line to Holborn. I look at people and instantly develop back-stories for them, typecasting their entire existence based on what they look like at 8.30am. The woman in the beige peacoat — she’s the wife of banker, she works in a gallery in East London, mostly to pass the days and allow her to justify having a full-time nanny and being a bad mother to her Notting Hill baby.  The short guy in the cheap suit has freshly arrived to London from a second world country and is currently living in a hostel while he searches for work. He’s on his way to a job interview and if he doesn’t get this one, he will cry in the bathroom of a McDonald’s afterward. He’s close with his parents but they think he’s stupid for moving to the UK so he can’t call them for consolation. I want to tell him things will work out, and I want to tell the Notting Hill mother to fire the nanny or her child will grow to be as shallow and self-loathing as she’s become.

I quickly get bored of this game and am forced to sit with my own thoughts.

I’m so tired.

Of course you are. You haven’t been sleeping enough.

I know. I never do. Things have been so busy lately and I’m trying to stay on top of it all.

It’s not just the business. You can’t ever stop thinking. You never let me turn off. It’s always one thing or another.

I know. I wish it wasn’t like that.

You’re wondering if she will call you back. She said she’d call you back to hang out.

I don’t care if she calls.

You do.

I do. I know she probably won’t. I don’t have her phone number. How do I even get in situations like these?

I’m not sure. You have nothing but the best of intentions but I think you get misunderstood sometimes.

Well, I’m awkward. Let’s face it…

No you aren’t. You’re only awkward because you tell yourself you’re awkward.

I don’t buy that mind over matter stuff.

 

I get sick of listening to myself and try the iPod again. It turns on but then promptly goes blank. Maybe I can play the back-story game again. I look up but am already tired of it. The masses, crammed like sardines into this subterranean rocket all look the same at this hour; a jumble of flesh and wool coats and orange Sainsbury’s bags full of hastily-made lunches.

Maybe you should go home. You miss your family and friends in Canada.

I do. But I’m not ready to go home. I’ve worked so hard to get up on two feet over here and I like it here. They understand.

I don’t know if they do. You feel guilty for abandoning everyone.

I feel guilty but I think the term ‘abandoning’ is problematic. It’s too harsh.

You feel like you’re missing out, in some aspects.

Of course. But on the other hand, I’m gaining a lot over here.

Everyone is aging. That scares you.

It does. I need to get past my irrational fear of dying and of those around me dying. I need to accept mortality in a healthy way.

It’s hard for you, though. Circumstances have led you here.

Let’s not go into this, brain. It’s 8.45 and I haven’t ate any breakfast. And my body is aching from the gym yesterday.

What else are you going to dissect then? We’re only at Marble Arch, you’re a good 10 minutes away from your stop.

Can’t we just think of stupid things? Casual, easy thoughts. Baseball. Popsicles. Why strawberries taste the way they do?

You’re distracting yourself. She’s not going to call.

I don’t care. It was nothing. I’ve got so much else to think about right now. I’m moving this weekend and haven’t started packing. I need to sort Christmas plans. And I keep forgetting to download that Arcade Fire song I’m missing.

Suit yourself. You can distract me with To Do lists for only so long.

But the longer I make them, the better. And there’s so much to do this time of year.

You’re worried about turning 26, aren’t you?

No. Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s strange. We almost died 6 years ago, we need to be embracing growing older. It’s a priveledge.

That sounds like something from a bargain-bin greeting card.

True but it’s how I feel. But…I am worried. I feel so accomplished and then at the same time, I feel so unaccomplished.

You’ve done a lot. You shouldn’t benchmark yourself against others.

I just worry about the future but lately I feel so wrapped up in the past and present that I can’t think ahead. There’s no 5 year plan. Not even a 6 month plan.

There doesn’t have to be. Those are motivational tools set up by people who are actually gross underachievers behind the scenes.

The train’s at Tottenham Court Road. I’m just going to get off here and walk in to work the long way.

You’re that sick of me?

….Yes. Sorry. I’m going to make sure I charge my iPod when I get home tonight.

I do all these things and then I wake up and do more things again.

Greetings. Well, firstly, I just re-read my last post which I forgot about and man, a bit of a bitter expat day huh?  But those happen, it’s all good.

The title: ever feel like that? I mean, you wake up and have to go to work again?  But I’ve been working the past 3 days! And there’s more laundry to do? And I’m out of food? I feel as if I live at Tesco’s sometimes. Oh no, a trip to the post office? I can’t handle that.  Remember when you were 12 and your day consisted of riding your bike around the neighbourhood and getting a chocolate bar when you met your friends at the 7-11.

Lately I’m feeling a bit overstretched. So much to do. Work’s great, but very busy. Social life as well. One weekend I would just like to sit in my room and have my meals and necessities delivered to me by a well-trained and clean monkey butler. To not answer my phone. There’s so much going on in my head. As much as I rarely have time to think lately, when I do, it’s seemingly the more heavy things.

I just found out (via Facebook, of course) that my cousin and his wife back home had a baby – amazing news. It’s very weird not to be there to see my new little cuz and hang out with the family. It’s strange. In a sad way but also in a weird, “I’m growing up” sort of way.

I’ve also realized lately that after 2 years in the UK, it’s feeling more like “home”.  The things I used to hate are bugging me less…or perhaps I’ve just learnt to ignore them.  But I’m gradually getting used to it all to the point where the things that once seemed huge and really different aren’t phasing me anymore. In fact, I often have to struggle and think quite hard about “how they do XYZ” back home, or what the name of that great little pizzeria in Toronto I used to go to all the time is called. And then, upon realizing I forget and feeling as if doing so means deserting my home country, I frantically google “Toronto + pizzeria + college street” until something rings a bell. I guess, though, it’s  a good thing…it means I’m transitioning better here (than I did in Scotland) and actually enjoying it.  This morning I gave rather complex directions to some tourists and was pretty proud that I no longer walk around with a map book of London, but just know parts of it well.

Today was weird though. I awoke to a BBM from my brother, a BBM from a good friend, a lengthy FB message from an old uni roommate and an email from my Aunt and Uncle about said new baby (their granddaughter) and well, it made me incredibly homesick.  Before, my homesickness was for things like good customer service, the wide open spaces of Canada, or Wendy’s Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers.  Now though, it’s for my dad, my brother, my family, my friends. I could give two craps about a box of Timbits, I just want to see my loved ones. Although, if they had a Frostie when they met me, I wouldn’t say no to it.

Anyways, I will try to get back on blogging but if life stays this busy, I can’t promise. I’ve still gotta update you about my travels to Spain and Germany, as well as Thanksgiving in London.  And then there’s Christmas, which I can’t even go into right now, other than to say it might be my first Xmas away from home and I don’t really know how I feel about it.

Good day.

We’re more fun, so suck it.

I’ve come to this conclusion, and not hastily or for lack of due diligence. I’ve had this hypothesis since I walked off the plane many moons ago and settled into Edinburgh.  And I’m just going to cut to the chase and say it:

North Americans are more fun than Brits (and several handfuls of other cultures).                        I repeat:  We’re just more fun.

No seriously, we really really are.  Now perhaps my idea of fun is just different but I really came at this whole thing with an open mind. I observed and I adjusted. I hung out with different cultures, folks from different strokes, etc… I gave even the most assholiest assholes the benefit of the doubt, often many times over.

And I’ve come to love things about folks from different places quite a lot. For example, I love the Aussies/Kiwis laid-back disposition and their ability to have fun. I love the Spanish (and Latin Americans, as well) and their interest in different cultures and their desire to hear your stories just as much as they want to share theirs. Those mofo’s would also give you the shirt off their back and their last bottle of water in the desert, I must add – I can’t say enough about friends I have made in Spain.

Back to the topic though….I don’t get homesick but I often miss things about home.  And October is a month that’s a triple-whammy.  Firstly, I miss fall (or autumn as the Mr. Peabody’s call it over here). The UK does spring much better than back home, with cherry blossoms lining the streets and the sun poking up to say hello after what seems like an eternity of not existing.  But Lord, the area I’m from in Canada does fall so much better. I’d say that southern Ontario as well as the Northeast US states probably have the best fall scenery around.  I would gladly trade in this lacklustre show of dissipating chlorophyll and leaves that fall to the ground far too quickly to be appreciated for a nice, leisurely drive down the Niagara Parkway.

Ok, but the fun part.  So in October we have Thanksgiving (the Canadian one), which is awesome. I can’t express my excitement enough for it and also what it means. Not only is it an awesome feast and pumpkin pie (which they don’t have here either), but it’s time with those you love and it’s a moment to reflect on the past year and for everything you have.  I was bewildered to find out when I first moved here that they don’t celebrate it. I commented on this to a native and he replied, “Well, us Brits don’t have much to be thankful for”.  If he was specifically referring to access to orthodontists, then he sure is right.

What else is really fun that occurs in October? HALLOWEEN, of course!  Back home, H’ween is just as much for grown-ups (or uni-aged students and 20/30somethings) as it is for the little tykes. They go trick or treating, we go trick and drinking. It’s a law of science, pretty much up there with gravity, that everyone loves drinking in costume. It just makes for an all-around more fun, more random night. So you’ll understand my shock when I realize HALLOWEEN isn’t really much of a big deal here, and it seems that means just as much or the youngins as well.  I can’t imagine a childhood without Halloween – the house being decorated to the nines with pumpkins and fake spiders on the windows and fake spiderwebs covering the hedges outside. Bales of hay on the front porch, covered with gourds and pumpkins. Bowls of candy filled to the brim as dozens and dozens descended on our house. These are memories that have formed traditions and are experiences I’ll hold with me forever and one day hope to be able to give to my kids. And why do I remember these so vividly? Because they were FUN. Because back home, we aren’t so concerned about keeping up appearances that we deny ourselves of a bit of pleasure. Laughter trumps higher than pretention, thankfully.

I’ve also got fond memories of Halloween in more recent years. Costumes in your twenties become more imaginative, more topically relevant, more hilarious. Nights out at bars, in cities literally full of people in costumes walking the streets and flooding public transport, were far too fun. Photos with randoms in awesome costumes you never would have though of yourself, and so on…you get the idea.

I made a comment to a friend earlier, resenting the fact that Halloween isn’t such a big deal in other parts of the world, to which they replied, “Well not everyone wants to be America”.  Cool, fine, I get that and I’m with you…I’m not saying you all need to walk around saying “eh” or “y’all”, drinking Bud, and doing controversial things for oil (Alberta and Texas, I’m looking at both of you…). I’m not someone who thinks everyone should adopt my culture – if I was, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a few weeks abroad.  I’m just someone who wants to show the rest of the world how to get a little more enjoyment out of life. After all, Halloween comes but once a year!

As an aside, fun things we also do that they don’t do here include: homecoming parties, high school prom, keggers, May 24 weekend, tailgating, etc…   Just saying.

Anyways, you can bet yourself I’ll be enjoying Halloween here even if it makes me an outlier (story of my UK life, anyways). I’ve come to realize there are many cultures who have the same joie de vivre (look, I used my French Canadian lingo!) as me and many of my fellow countryfolk. I won’t name them specifically, but those of you who know me will probably easily guess, as they tend to be almost exclusively the cultures/friends I surround myself with over here.

To the stuffy Brits on this island who act like they don’t know what a Band-Aid is when I ask for one, please think of me this weekend, eating delicious pumpkin pie and laughing more in 6 hours than you will this entire season.  I’ll leave you with this little video — this is for my people:

Not a douchebag, just stating how glad I am to be where I am from sometimes,

D.

The Bucket List Mentality

Alright, I’ll start this with a soul-baring confession: I have a fear of death.  There, said it – done and dusted. It’s a part of my psyche that might sound weird, but a near-death experience I had, as well as the loss of some close people in my life, has made me hyper-aware of my mortality at a young age.

I realize this isn’t ideal, although having said the above, I’m not a fatalist. That might sound hypocritical, but my general demeanour 95% of the time is that of an optimistic, easy-going, happy-to-be-here guy. But as I said, I’ve got a stronger dose of reality than most and it’s all changed my perspective a bit. Negatively? I wouldn’t say so…things happen for a reason, they say, and as cliche as that phrase is, I believe we have to kind of roll with it. Things may seem inexplicable to us right now but my faith in some higher power (and at this point in my life, I’m not sure what I call him specifically, but God will suffice) means I have patience not to question things, because questioning these can become all-consuming and is in the end, fruitless.

So where was I before that tirade? Well, my experiences have given me a new lease on life. That life really is short and that it shouldn’t be lived with regrets.  And so that’s why I live my life for me and cast off to experience things, instead of wishing I would have or should have done X, Y, and Z.  Why ponder and dream when you can do? Sure, there’s always going to be obstacles – be it financial, time-wise, etc… – but I truly believe that where there’s a will, there’s a way.

I guess this attitude is what pushed me over the edge to move overseas in the first place. Another confession: I’d always wanted to do a year-abroad during undergrad but I kind of wussed out, although the reason why I never wanted to go was because I was enjoying my time at Queen’s way too much and couldn’t imagine a year away from all of my awesome friends there. So instead I opted for a 2-month summer course studying in a castle in southern England. Not too shabby at all and let’s just say that for wanderlust, it was the proverbial can of worms.

So my newfound mentality was that everything works out in the wash. And since about 6 years ago, I’ve become much more laid back in my approach to things. So off to Scotland I went. It wasn’t without it’s fair share of tough times and obstacles, let me tell you that. In fact, it downright sucked at first. But I persevered and it got better. Then, with about 3 weeks left in my lease I had to decide what to do with my life. I hit a major fork in the road: go back to Canada or move to London with nothing but my suitcases and a pocketful of dreams?

It came down to London and it’s a decision I don’t regret. Once again, it was tough. The pace, the cost of living, the ridiculous process of flat hunting in this city, and the working a menial job until I found something solid – it all added to the slog. To quote Jason Lee in Vanilla Sky, “The sweet is never as sweet without the sour.”  I like that quote – it’s so cautiously optimistic and silently resilient and I feel I can relate.

Anyways, I think I got way off topic. Sorry. Right, so a bucket list, as the title implies. Now I don’t actually have one written down anywhere or anything. I’ve got ideas in my head, of course, but I guess I’ve more so adopted a bucket list mentality.  What the hell does that mean D?, you ask. Well, I think I’ve pushed my boundaries and opened my mind up a lot – about the world, about people, etc… A good example – traveling to Morocco last year.  A few years ago I don’t think I would’ve at all considered that. Africa? But don’t they all have AIDS and malaria there? I mean, I don’t even think you can drink the water…and the whole blood diamond thing…surely I’ll be shot if I don’t catch dengue fever first. Cut to a few years later and suddenly I’m craving the exotic, more extreme trips. And as of May 2009, I was riding camels into the Sahara, eating strange street food, and sleeping on a sand dune.

I guess more commonplace examples would be in my day to day.  Now, instead of staying in to save money or because I’m “tired” when I get invited to what I can see will be a fun night out, I go.  Life’s too short to stay at home and watch TV … I can do that when I’m older. I’ve done a lot, seen a lot, experienced different cultures, lived in a couple different countries, and formed relationships with people from all walks of life, all corners of the world and learnt so much in the process.  To me, this is what life is all about right now.

I love living in London because I’m constantly slightly outside of my comfort zone but that’s thrilling. And I love that I can travel easily to a plethora of different locations, with different languages and crazy-ass currency and learn about the world and see that it’s all so much bigger than just me. And that for all it’s hardships, heartbreaks and sorrows, life really is beautiful.

Visits to A Small Island

Since living in London, I’ve been lucky enough to have had many visitors.  The fact that London just isn’t a common destination point but also an even more common hub for transcontinental flights has brought nearly a dozen visitors to me in the 11 months I’ve lived here. Some have been old roommates, old classmates, and old friends – from highschool, university, and even kindergarten. Some have been here for several weeks, several days, or several hours.  But each visit has been very memorable and a lot of fun.

Superficially, it’s fun to hang out with friends, catch up on things, and it gives me an opportunity to play tourist in my new hometown. But on a deeper level, I’ve found that having visitors from various stages of my past acts as a barometre for where I stand in the present. I guess they sort of act as marker points and since they’re often quite fresh to the UK, it’s fun to see their observances.  Things like:

“You have a TV license?!?!! Are you serious? That’s insane!” (I know – I was once outraged but have sadly come to accept that the BBC pillages everyone in a dictatorship kind of way.  Fidel would love it)

“I love the chocolate here, it’s definitely so much better than in Canada. And it’s so cheap! You must eat it everyday, right?” (Nope).

“The plugs here…THEY’RE SO UNNECESSARILY LARGE! It’s like a kids toy or something. Why?!?” (Not sure, but I agree completely!).

I guess it all allows me to sort of see how far I’ve come, if you want to say it like that – and I don’t because it sounds a bit self-involved, but it’s late and my mental thesaurus isn’t functioning well. In many ways, all these and more were things that once were on the forefront of my mind – manifestations of culture shock, really. So for me to hear them now and almost giggle at these novices makes me realize, I’ve come a long way.  But not long enough that I spell it “realise” 

So to all my visitors, thank you for bringing plenty of laughs, a familiar accent, and most of all, perspective. Oh yeah, and who could forget all those boxes of KD, issues of Maclean’s and bags of Fuzzy Peaches as well.  Those have all gone down well.

few and far between

The title refers to my blogging frequency as of late, for which I apologize (kind of).

I moreso apologize to myself because I just typed “apologised” the British English way before having heart palpitations and hitting the Delete key as quickly as I could.  My new job has seen me writing up several reports and lots of e-mails and I always feel like I have to check my Zed’s and watch my date formatting. Today I spent half the day working in the hospital and since I got bored and felt bad for the patients waiting around for hours, I got up and asked them if they wanted any cookies.  One old Irish lady got a chuckle out of my unintentional joke, cracking, “I love that you call them cookies, that’s so funny!”.   Wow, easy crowd!

Speaking of the different date formatting….one wonders if September 11 would have ever occurred in the UK, because it would’ve really been 11/9, which doesn’t have the same ring to it as “9/11″.  Not that 9/11 was cool or has a good ring to it, but you get it.  I’ll shut up soon.

Well, the reason I haven’t been blogging is basically because work during the week is hectic/busy and I usually come home, eat, do stuff, watch a bit of TV and crash.  And on the weekends I’ve been far too busy having fun and living life.  That’s what I’m over here to do, and while I wanna blog about it, it’s been a month full of visitors, crazy nights, sight seeing, London wandering, travel planning, and so on.

I just wanted to write this for the 5 or so people who actually read my blog (Hi Dad!) and let them know I haven’t given up on it. I’ll make a conscious effort to get back on the bandwagon and hopefully provide you with a laugh or two.

Until then, I’ll continue telling work colleagues to call my “mobile” while a tiny piece of my soul dies inside.

Weekend Update (minus Fallon, Poehler or Meyers)

At this risk of sounding too much like a product of my generation, I’m going to go ahead say that the past few days have been very blogworthy.

It all started on Friday. My boss invited me to go to this workshop/conference thing on Innovation and Leadership in the health care sector. As the project I am working on is one of 12 winners of an innovation fund from NHS London, we had the opportunity to learn how to make our project more robust and successful by getting some tips from innovation experts, as well as networking with the other winners.

The event took place in leafy, well-heeled Islington, a borough that oozes of yuppy gentrification enclosed in centuries-old buildings. The event took place in on the fourth floor of a building owned by a charity, but that looked more like a media agency. From the window nearest the table I sat at, I could see the Gherkin in the distance; not too shabby, I thought (the picture below was taken haphazardly on my phone and if you look closely you’ll see the Gherkin, peeking between the chimneys).

The day was filled with brainstorming exercises and dialogues that proved incredibly helpful. We met some amazing entrepreneurs who came in to talk to us, but moreover, the other delegates themselves proved equally – if not more so – helpful in giving us good contacts and links to resources that I’m sure I’ll be following up on as part of my duties. Excuse the nerd factor, but it was a very inspiring day and helped get the creative juices flowing. It also solidified the fact that I love my job.

After the event ended, some of the delegates and event leaders headed to Exmouth Market, a pedestrianized street full of bars, restaurants and random stores. The heat here lately has been amazing, with sunny skies and high 20-s weather the norm (in a country where that’s far from the norm) and so an ice cold Corona was much welcomed. The bar quickly filled though and my boss invited me to join her and her husband for dinner, so we left the tiny Exmouth pub and ended up near Angel at a gastropub (that’s British for fancy pub) that was described to me before we arrived as “quintessentially English”, and which was. The pub itself was an old Georgian building but the best part was the huge beer garden aka patio out back  (the pub’s pictured below).

Apparently you normally need to make reso’s for the beer garden days in advance, but my boss and her husband are locals and regulars and so we got preferential treatment. After a few ciders and a great meal, they walked me to the nearest Tube station so I could get my bearings as to where I was. Minutes after getting in the door, my Aussie mates rang me and told me they were heading to Shoreditch. So off I was, back towards the East End.

Shoreditch is an incredibly cool area – gritty and urban, it’s full of artists and hipsters and derelicts and business-folk from the nearby financial district. The former are the most predominant though, dotting the area in plaid and cycling around on their fixies. On the weekends it’s buzzing and we headed to one of the larger clubs, Cargo. Located underneath a railway track, it’s a maze of tunnels and bars that eventually open out to a massive beer garden that has everything from a grill cooking up food to a photo booth that seemed to get a lot of attention. With amazing DJs and a chill vibe, it’s a place I will definitely head back to (especially on nice nights when the beer garden can be enjoyed!).

On Saturday I met up with two friends, Andy and Kat, who were in town for a night on a stopover on their way back to Canada after a two-week Eurotrip. We watched the third-place game of the World Cup before meandering around Covent Garden (pictured below) and stopping for dinner in the courtyard of the big marketplace there.

It’s always great to see friends from home, catch up on the past X amount of months, and to just be around those with a familiar accent and jargon. This isn’t to say that I don’t like non-Canadians, but a break from having to concentrate on deciphering a multitude of accents was nice and I really enjoyed their company.

Today I did nothing spectacular. I had to go get my haircut and following this, instead of bus’ing it back home, I decided to take the long route and walk since it was so nice out and after living through British winter, my body needs all the Vitamin D it can get. Cutting through Hyde Park is always a favourite of mine and having a lazy Sunday was much needed after a hectic few days and the late night that was Friday.

Well, blogworthy indeed, if you ask me. But I’ve got to get to bed now, the work week starts tomorrow and I need to be up bright and early.  Peace y’all.

Greener grass? Maybe not…

I’m starting to really love London.  This is aided by the fact that my new job means I have a higher disposable income which will do two things; 1) allow me to enjoy the city itself more by going out more often, checking out concerts, festivals, etc….  and 2) start traveling around Europe!!!

But sometimes I wonder, should I be somewhere else? Maybe that’s worded wrongly…not should I, but I wonder what it would be like.  I occasionally have this vision of living all around the world but sometimes I think that concept is much more romanticized in theory than it would be in practice. Starting over isn’t easy and, as I’ve learnt first-hand, starting anew in a foreign country is even more challenging. It’s a lot of fun, but a ton of work, and it takes a bit out of you.

So where would I even go?  Who knows. I mean, I love London, but sometimes the English get on my last nerve (y’all need to just chill out and stop taking life so seriously – and I don’t mean by binge drinking, I mean in your day to day inclination). But would it really be better elsewhere? I visited Stockholm last year and fell in love with the city and Swedish culture. Recently though, I read a blog by an American expat living in Sweden and the way he described Swedish winters (which almost entirely lack sunlight) made me coil in horror.  I also loved Barcelona to death, but I wonder if the fact that everything shuts mid-day for a siesta would bother me. I think it would…I like convenience. And I can just imagine how slow everything would be there…I bet setting up a bank account would take months. They would probably make the British banking system look superior and the thought that that is even humanly possible scares me. This harsh perspective can be further repeated for several other countries I’d consider moving to.

So then I wonder, am I the issue? Am I too hard to please? A tough crowd towards planet Earth? I don’t think so. At least I wasn’t always this way. Did moving abroad change me? Perhaps. Can I ever go home again, or will I always be comparing what X lacks and what Y had and how great the people in Z are? Can’t I just be less of a Type A personality and more easily amused?  I wish all it took was midgets and clowns in hydraulic cars to make me laugh for ages.  Or something.

Anyways I almost forgot where I was going with this. I guess what I intended to end with was that I do realize I need to stop and smell the roses. I just feel like I’ve been running for so long that I forget how. Any tips?

A potpourri of a blog post

1) I’m eating fish and chips for dinner, but not intentionally. It just sort of came together; I had fish fingers and I had some leftover chips. Not as good as from a chippy though, but they’ll do. Mayonnaise with fries, as the Dutchies do, is the way forward.

2) My daily commute to my new office in Bloomsbury is all well and good, save the fact that the Tube is 491 * Celsius.  Why haven’t they invented little personalized flying space-pods to carry me to and from work in climate-controlled comfort?  OR, why haven’t they put air conditioning on the Tube?  Oh that’s right, because God forbid that Britain, in the 21st century, embraces any sort of modern convenience dating after the 1940s.  I think I’ll sooner see flying space-pods than A/C on the underground.

3) Chest coughs/colds suck. I can beat cancer, but give me a sore throat and I become a bumbling, feel-sorry-for-myself baby.

4) Desk fan for my room = best £13 I have ever spent. It’s teeny but it does the trick and I actually slept soundly last night for once.

5) Looking forward to: the weekend, pay day, sleeping, 3 more Canadian visitors in the next 2 weeks, and planning some traveling soon!

6) Missing: family (especially being away from home at Dad’s birthday), not sounding like a chain smoker due to my sore throat, Canada Day fireworks tomorrow, and driving my car aimlessly.  Oh, and air conditioning.