You can probably guess from the title that this post is going to be a bit all over the place. But its been so long since I’ve posted and I feel I should just write something, even if I don’t know what that is (I really have been quite lazy the past two months. Well, truth be told I’ve actually been quite busy. I’ve been writing for other blogs and things and I just haven’t had much to say. London is grey. London is rainy. There is much rushing about, but its all kind of same-y same-y now. Nothing to write home about. Ha ha ha).
The truth is that the past month or so has been a bit of a rough one. Starting late January, early February, I somehow lost perspective. On most things. My stress levels went through the roof (evidenced by the fact that I was grinding my teeth in my sleep. Evidence by the fact that my jaw was so sore and stiff during the day I couldn’t eat anything but soup, bircher museli and egg mayonaise. And they get pretty old, pretty quickly). There is/was a lot to blame this on. I was, of course, beating myself up spectacularly over any mistakes made in my new position at work. Or, anything that I didn’t know how to do. And, in the meantime, I was panicking about what else might possibly turn up that I wouldn’t know what to do about. Then I started making mistakes in my old position, probably because I wasn’t doing it as often, and, oh, goodness did I start to feel awful.
The weather has been, it is uniformly agreed, pretty shit for February/March. And yes, yes, yes, I know, I told you all I liked the winter and the cold and the snow, but as we have previously discussed, I am a changeable person and I prefer the weather to be constantly in flux (thereby reflecting my persistently mercurial nature). So the fact that it is now almost the end of March AND IT IS STILL NOT NEARLY SPRING-LIKE makes me despair. There aren’t even daffodils (except the brooch ones for Marie Curie). And, in February last year, there were daffodils EVERYWHERE. One of the posts I recently wrote for a different blog was talking up London’s parks. I figured it was a lovely and appropriately Spring-like topic to be writing on. You know, because it was Spring, and it was almost Summer and so therefore, outdoorsy topics were appropriate. I visited 4 parks with my camera and my high hopes. IT SNOWED.
My personal life has been a bit all over the place (when is it not) and its not something I really wanted to discuss on the blog. So, I kept talking around the topic, under it, over it, or just not posting at all. Two related incidents about a month apart from each other has ultimately ended in some major Facebook surgery, if you get my drift. The past few days, in particular, have involved a lot of use of hot water bottles, DVD’s, red wine, comfortable, oversized clothing and suddenly bawling my eyes out in public places whilst listening to sad music. Of course, naturally, it’ll all work out in the end and in a year or so I’ll feel much better for having gone through this and it probably needed to happen and blah blah blah, insert comforting platitude here, but right now, quite frankly, it’s all shit.
Early February I idly picked up my passport off the windowsill to gaze nostalgically at all my travel stamps and realised that condensation had absolutely destroyed the picture (rest of the passport was JUST FINE, by the way). By the time the condensation was done with my image, it looked like the special effect for some science fiction movie, where the evil person is, like, stealing my soul or sucking out my personality through my photo. If you get me. There was this kind of empty, dead face, with a few black lines where the eyes and eyebrows used to be, then all the colours seeping through to the other pages. Anyway, the upshot is, I had to get a new passport (which made me unreasonably upset – I was getting quite the lovely collection of stamps and visas in the old one). And the upshot of that is that I had to get my visa transferred to the new passport. And the upshot of that is I had to pay an arm and a leg to get the new documents (Though, it was quite enjoyable going to Australia House, simply to discover that EVERYONE they employ is Australian. Right down to the security man who checked my bag before allowing me inside). However, it has meant that I’ve been stuck in England with no way of getting out of the country for the past month and a half. Which wouldn’t have been such a big deal, except that my cousin was in Paris in early February and I was desperate to take the Eurostar to visit her. I am determined to take the train to Paris AT SOME POINT. Just, clearly not anytime soon.
I’ve been a little obsessed for the past month or so with the idea that I’m going to have to leave London next year. I know it might seem far away to all you people who are not currently on a visa. You know, you people who live in the country you were born in, or, alternatively, one of you lucky bastards who has a Passport and/or Ancestry visa and/or Leave to Remain for whatever reason to stay in the country of your choice, even if you weren’t born there. But I feel like I am mentally checking off every day, thinking, ‘Well, that’s another London day I’ll never get back’. And if it wasn’t a great day, or an interesting day, or in anyway amusing or particularly ‘London’, I get a bit panic-y. I think its probably being made worse by the fact that this is the time of year when my plans for the next 9 months become clear. I’m going to be doing some exciting things, but a lot of them involve leaving London for weeks at a time, and I’m getting a little desperate at the idea of wasting any more of my London time somewhere else. Of course, I’ve had some very generous female friends offer to pretend to be in a de facto relationship with me in order to get me leave to remain, but I’m really not that ballsy/stupid (no, seriously, Border Control. I’m not that stupid. Though, I did just write about it on my public blog. So, I’m at least THAT stupid).
Of course, February and March haven’t been all bad. I discovered a cute new theatre, called The Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond. I got accepted into the Last Frontier Theatre Conference again in Alaska. Old friends visited, new friends were made, wine was drunk, nights were had. And, in the end, like Kristen Wiig’s mother says in ‘Bridesmaids,’ at least, if this is bottom, well, there is nowhere to go but back up.