The year that was

A year ago today, I left London, unwillingly, sadly, and not on my own terms. Here are some thoughts, on what followed...

When the clock struck midnight last year, and we turned the page on 2011, I felt a sense of relief at putting that year behind me. 2011 began with hope at where I was headed, and 2011 ended, well, with hope at where I am headed. In between those two midnights however, there were a lot of hopeless midnights, where I felt the only place I was headed was further down into a well of black.

I had big plans last January, that included career advancement, European travel, and truly becoming a Londoner, and not a long-term visitor. Whilst, I was still reeling from my Grandma's unexpected death in December, I could easily see the positive road ahead. For the most part things were good. I had worked very hard to get to this place; months of low-paying jobs, nights spent unsure of my place, and struggles to understand English education at my job. I had spent so much of my time in London feeling uncertainty of job, money, and friends, I knew that was soon coming to an end. After all my hard work, I was almost there, just one more hurdle. The one I thought was surely the easiest, after finding a job, fighting to ensure that job stayed funded, developing my 'urban-family' support system, and learning my way around. I had done everything I was supposed to do, and soon, I'd be on my way.

Then February began and well, it all fell apart. The work visa wasn't coming, it was easier to get rid of me than fight for me, and a mere twelve days later, I was saying good-bye to the city, the life, that had become home. So, I headed back to my other home, where I had to figure out what was next. I had to figure out what you do when you've done everything,when you worked hard, when it still isn't enough. What you do when you miss your new home so much, but don't want to hurt those in your old home who just want to help you. What you do when you lived in a capital city and are forced to move back to the small town. What you do when you get accused of being superior, when the truth is simply that your experiences have changed you. What you do when your career is snatched away, and you have to find a new one. What you do when you hate being stuck inside, but don't want to be outside either. What you do when you feel betrayed, but still miss that which betrayed you, all the same. What you do when feel stupid for believing it would work out. What you do when you didn't get to say good-bye on your own terms. What you do when you are running out of hope.

I can't say that I have the answer to those questions; the only one I have is that, I think, all you can do is try not to drown in those questions. I think you do have to feel them, and you have to give credence to them. Perhaps, I wallowed, perhaps I spent too much time feeling bad for myself. I don't know. All I know is that the way I kept from drowning was to take the time to cry and be angry and talk about it and feel betrayed. To be grateful that I had some place to go, but still think it is okay that this shouldn't have happened to me. To understand that I am still relatively blessed, but to be mad as hell that this ended the way it did. To let time do what it does and scab over the wounds and let them begin to fade.

In time, I found another job. One in the U.S., but one that I like nonetheless. I have spent time with my family making up for so much time spent away. I celebrated my Mom's 60th birthday and my sister's 30th. I have started to reconnect with friends. I am figuring out what my next steps are. Where I am going; where I am headed.


A year later, I am still sad. Still angry. I still feel betrayed. I still miss London, my friends, and my old life. I am still caught with unexpected waves of nostalgia for a double-decker bus, my independence, and strangely at times, the smells of London. But, not all the time any more. I feel better; I have some hope again.

Songs I Dig: Runaway

There are some songs that just stick with me for whatever reason, that I become obsessed with them, and I listen to them over and over. One such example is TV on the Radio's Family Tree --I couldn't get enough of it for awhile--and I can still listen to Tunde Adebimpe's tale of a forbidden love any day of the week. I imagine ghosts connected to the tree keeping the lovers apart.

There are also songs that conjure up certain memories. Like smells, the memory songs can take me back to a particular place and/or time. There is that All Star song by Smash Mouth which makes me think of the summer of 1999, the one before I graduated from college. The last summer before I had to become an adult. It's a stupid song, but it reminds me of that time of fear and excitement and longing.

This is all a preamble to introduce what I intend (hope?) to be at least a semi-regular feature about songs such as those above. I don't have grand illusions that they will all be winners but I do promise to try and feature either a good song or a good story about a song.

So to start off this feature (called, for lack of a better name, Songs I Dig), I dig Runaway by The National. Off of their latest album High Violet (of which I highly recommend), I started listening to the album on my work commutes, and I got hooked on this song in late January/early February. I can't tell you exactly what the song is supposed to mean, though to me it sounds like love and loss. And maybe about the fight to keep the love and not giving up. Seriously, I'm not sure.



Of course, I think the beauty of music is that it doesn't always matter what a song means, or what the writer intended. Sometimes you can make it your own, and the deep, melancholic voice of singer Matt Beringer put sound to how I was feeling in early February. I was reeling from losing London and all that London was for me (friends, experiences, possibilities, making my own way) and feeling completely helpless about it. Lines like, "there's no saving anything," "I'll swallow the sun," and "We've got another thing coming undone," was the poetic version of how I felt. I might not have been running away, but I was going and I was blind-sided, and it felt like everything was closing in, or that I was '"being led to the flood," if you will. I was sad (still am), and I needed a quiet space to feel my loss, and this song provided it.

Yet, when I listen to Runaway now, I smile through my (sometimes figurative) tears. On my last day out in London, I took the bus across the Thames at Vauxhall. Outside my bus window, on a clear day, with Runaway playing in my ears, I had a beautiful view of Parliament, Big Ben, and the river. A most spectacular view, one that each of the countless times I witnessed reminded me of all that I loved of London. That it was my last meaningful look at London (for a little while at least) was a fitting end to three years well spent. And now, Runaway mostly makes me remember that view and my time in London. Which is why I dig it.


To download a live(ish) version of Runaway for free, go here.

TV on the Radio has a new album out in April. You can get a free download of Caffeinated Consciousness here.

Paging 'Cave' Equality

These days I am spending a significant amount of time at home during the day. One of the things I am doing, along with soul and job searching, is watching a significant amount of home improvement/house buying television. And let me tell you, there is a lot out there, all designed to entertain the middle class masses. (Which certainly should be a subject for a different post!)

One of the trends I have noticed that appears new to me since last I gorged on these shows, is the idea of a 'man cave.' The term is apparently describing a space for the man of the house (because, it seems this idea is always perpetuated by couples in opposite marriage) to do as he pleases. And while I don't inherently have a problem with couples having their own space or spaces in a house (in fact I think it is a good thing), I find a lot of the talk around man caves to be problematic.

The term man cave has entered the lexicon enough to have its own wikipedia page. The 'man cave' is described as a place "where guys can do as they please without upsetting female sensibilities about the house." The page further talks about how it is 'generally accepted' that women decorate the rest of the house, and men need to create their own space as a reaction to 'feminine domestic power.' These caves, generally full of 'manly items' like electronics (since women do not like electronics, duh), are where they can put their beer can lamps away from the eyes of the guests to the house. The page goes on at length about how the 'women's movement' have left men with identity problems and how they just can't please all the women in the whole wide world who want them to be sensitive and manly. Yes, I am paraphrasing, but I think you'll find I am on the money.

I find this whole dialogue around man caves to be full of fail. To start off with, the idea that women decorate the rest of the house without input or thought of men, is an annoyingly sexist idea. Sure this is the case in some households, but I think it is important to dig just a bit deeper. Traditionally women's identity and power have been almost totally defined by the home, and despite the 'women's movement,' women are still overwhelming the ones expected to keep the home. That men should respond to this 'feminine domestic power' by demanding a man cave rather than looking at that inequality, shows a lot of unchecked privilege. For a show to perpetuate this idea, sell it as not only as an accepted, but a coveted norm, make the move for gender equality in the home more difficult.

In all of the discussions of man caves, I have rarely (I won't say never, since as soon as I say never, someone will tell me I'm wrong) seen discussion about a 'woman cave.' And while I shudder to think what home shows would propose to be in these caves (sewing? scrapbooking? vacuum cleaner?), the idea that men need to get away from the womenz, continues to advance the idea of women as nagging, controlling, shrews. Ones that won't 'let' a grown man have his buddies over for a poker game, watch football, or play video games. It also seems to implicitly say that women don't really need their own space, that women would never need time away from their husbands or children.

The whole man cave idea assumes that couples of the heterosexual nature are made up of stereotypes. The wife-as-mother married to the man-child. It doesn't consider that a relationship between a woman and man could be equal, that it could be based in love, respect, and communication. It doesn't say that in a couple, both partners need to have time and space from the other one, even in their own home. It assumes couples would never share decisions about the upkeep of their home, and that if one partner does more of the decorating the other is resentful of that. And it assumes that all women care about are how their home looks to others.

I wish that these shows, because they do shape and reflect a certain way of thinking, would talk more about a cave that both halves could use for time away. That this cave is a safe space from the pressure to look a certain way, a place that is comfortable and fun, a place free from judgement. A place that was respected for alone time, but could be shared sometimes too. Wouldn't it be great if the pop culture narrative from these shows was more evolved than this!

Trailblazers

I share my birthday with some pretty cool people, including Galileo and Susan B. Anthony. (Also, Jo Miller, a poker player, and a girl I went to high school with--all cool in their own right.) Most of you know Galileo, he who the Church condemned for daring to support the theory that the Sun and not the Earth was at the center of the universe. He has been hailed as being responsible for modern science, and is enshrined in pop culture by both Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody and in the song Galileo by the Indigo Girls. If Queen sings about you, I think that makes you cool.

Most Americans know, or should know, Susan B. Anthony. A Quaker who campaigned for various social justice causes, the most well-known being Women's Suffrage in America. Famously working with Elizabeth Cady Stanton they created the organisation that would become the National American Woman Suffrage Association (NAWSA), and lobbied tirelessly for a constitutional amendment. Susan B. Anthony was once arrested for voting; she never paid the fine. Susan B. Anthony was immortalized on a US dollar coin, which is pretty darn cool.

Galileo and Susan B. Anthony were long dead by the time they got their justly deserved comeuppance. In the 1990s, the Church apologised for making Galileo recant what was later found out to be basically the truth, and in 1920 the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was ratified, using the original language written by Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. Their largest legacy is that they helped to create a new world of sorts. One where scientific study and reason was the norm over religious mania. One where women were allowed to exercise a basic democratic right that helps to ensure their rights as citizens. I would wager to say that in the 21st century we must continue to fight for both principles.

I make no claims on ever getting into a pop song, or becoming money, but I do hope that some of what I do can make a difference. Each year on February 15th, I am inspired of these two trailblazers that came before me, and hope that I can blaze a small trail of my own.

Happy New Year, 2011 Style

2010 was an interesting year for me. It was completely brilliant and totally challenging. It brought me great joy and great sadness.

All of that left me really tired and worn out and not feeling like I could write. Also, I was afraid the answer to the Is Sara Interesting question would be no, she's just a bit boring. A result was this blog was silent for the whole of 2010. I'm quite sad about that and the plan is to get it back up and running in 2011. Well, the resolution is to start writing more (or ahem, again) and hopefully some of that will end up here. I've started by picking a new blog style for now. I liked the old one, but thought something new could be fun.

For now I'm processing the start of another year, and how I am going to complete this resolution. As well as some others. I'll report back!

The ups and downs of the journey...

This is only my seventh post in 2009, and it is already November; I’m not even averaging once a month. This post is basically why I haven’t written much this year, which goes way beyond the standard ‘I’ve been busy line,’ but because I was dealing with a lot. I do hope that I’ve reached a point where I can begin blogging more often, that I feel up to it and have the necessary mental and time capacity. I’ve been wanting to write this post for at least two months if not more, and writing it is a bit like getting the monkey off my back and putting the past year behind me.

If you read my last post, you know I got a job in London after months of looking. And the looking was really hard and painful and discouraging. I applied to nearly 80 jobs, mostly in the non-profit sector, a fair few in the educational sector, and even a few in the business sector. [From an American perspective, 80 may not seem like that many jobs for all that time applying, but applying was about way more than simply sending in a resume and cover letter. For each job I wanted to apply to, I had to fill out an organisational-specific application, which normally wasn’t formatted very well, which meant a lot of re-formatting on my part in order for the application to show up properly. Within each application, I would have to invariably type out job titles and tasks, figuring out how to tailor each job or internship of my past to the specific needs of the organisation and job. Beyond this, I would have to write a personal statement extolling the merits of Sara, and why I should be hired.] [Also, if you are wondering why I now organise with an s and not a z, it was because I decided it would be best to try and be as English as possible, and I now work for an English organisation—I’m not deliberately being pretentious. I’m sure a month back in the States will knock it out of me.] It is absolutely not an exaggeration to say that each of these applications took, on average, four hours. This is on top of the five to six days a week I was working (often having to get up at 5:30 am, and you know I ain’t no morning person), as well as searching for jobs on a daily basis.

While the physical exhaustion was great, frankly, it was the mental exhaustion that I am still recovering from. I was told, (or often not told but my application went ignored) that ‘on this occasion I had not been selected for an interview,’ or that I didn’t have enough experience, or thanks but not thanks. I wasn’t shooting for the stars: I was applying for jobs that did not require the MA degree I just worked for, in jobs that barely paid above the poverty line. I applied to jobs that I had experience in, and in jobs that weren’t jobs, but volunteering in prestigious organisations, where I would not get paid but hoped to get an ‘in’. (I have a lot to say about this, but that’s for another post). From all of this, I had five interviews, and not a single one was with a NGO or non-profit. Not one.

All of this alone would have been enough to shake my confidence, I’m sure, but add the recession, the constant worry about money (I was the very definition of scraping by), and no existing social or family safety net, and to say my spirit was beaten down would be an understatement. There were so many nights where I would lay awake with worry, cry myself to sleep, or just simply wanted to go home. I think half the reason why I didn’t book a ticket was because I’d have to walk downstairs and the prospect of physically moving was out of the question. It was something I couldn’t articulate well over the phone or in an email, making it difficult for family and friends to help from the other side of the world. They tried, and they did help, because I always knew they were there. My flatmate (who is now on her own adventure, and has now moved solidly and forever into the ‘one of the best my friends’ category) spent hours upon hours listening and reminding me that I was in fact not a worthless person. The few other people who I have managed to make a connection with in this country encouraged me as well, and for that I am grateful. Without these people, I’m not sure I would have made it in London.

I recently went through and read some of my old posts on this blog. I remembered writing about searching for a peace within myself that I tried as hard as I could to make it work in London. When I wrote that post, I was miles away from that actual inner peace. It was somewhere I wanted to be, and at that point knowing it was half the battle. I was slowly coming to grips with the very real idea that I might have to leave London, that it didn’t actually matter what I wanted, or how educated I was, but that economics would drive me out. For a few months (around February to May) I was really angry with that. There weren’t many jobs to apply for, both because of the economy and because I began to eliminate almost any job to apply for that I wasn’t over qualified for. I didn’t try and explain how my skills were transferable, because I knew that at least 100 other people would have direct skills. The number of jobs I applied to within that period dropped because I was just so discouraged. There was a lot of self-examination and a lot of putting things into context. I began to really look at the concept of privilege, which is what perhaps let me get to a place where leaving London wasn’t the end of the world. So, I moved into a sad acceptance of the way it was, and mentally prepared to leave London at the beginning of September, when my lease was up and the lack of fundage would be critical.

Somewhere in that sad acceptance I got a second (or maybe a fourth) wind to give it one last go. A few more jobs were showing up that I could see myself qualified for, and letting go of the worry about if I would have to leave (because, I almost surely would have to) freed up some mental space. I was still tired all the time, and still worried about money, and still sad about leaving, but that particular fight was gone. It was freeing. Maybe that’s what allowed me to ‘see it.’ A job I knew I was highly qualified for, a job that I would like, working with students similar to my job at USM. Certainly that’s why I got excited. In fact, there were several jobs at this one organisation, and I started to think ‘surely I can get one of them’. Which was so different from the ‘surely I’ll never get one’ narrative working in my brain for so long. I think letting go of the anger about leaving London, left me some space for the positive. It was not easy, and sometimes I don’t know how I did it. And it took a long time, about 8 months in fact. But that positive feeling showed up in my energy level, and I think it showed up in my application, and it most certainly helped me in my interview.

The most interesting part of this is that the job that got me excited is not actually the one I got. It wasn’t even for the same organisation. The one I got I almost didn’t apply for, because I was afraid it was completely beyond my reach. But, because I needed to know I had done all I could, I went for it. And in the most extreme case of luck literally changing over night, I actually got two interviews in the same week. I only got one job offer, weirdly the one I thought I had no chance at. It still hurt a little to not get the other job offer, but truly it is about perspective. I was able to rationalize why I didn’t get the job, because I realise it could be that I don’t have enough experience, or it could be that I didn’t give it my all because I had the other job already, or it was just how the cookie crumbled on that one day. I felt dishonest feeling this way, like it was too easy to accept this. Yes, I was now on the other side, almost a traitor to my former self—where was the pain at not getting the job that should be there. I didn’t get that it was much bigger than one job offer. I think that feeling was truly earned. I think the blows to my confidence; to my very being that I worked through earned me the right to be okay with not being offered two jobs in one week. Because one job, one job that I knew I had the real potential to love, one job that would pay my bills, help me begin to get out of debt, and let me enjoy London, was enough. I was lucky, and thankful, and most of all relieved that it actually went my way when I was sure it wouldn’t.

And now here I am almost four months later. I am working in London, working with students, training and developing, and doing things I really like. The destination of the past ten months, the job, has not been a panacea to every bad thought I felt the past 10 months, and I don’t feel happy 100% of the time. I didn’t think it would. I still have very few people I feel like I can really trust or count on. I’ve had a few incidents that have shaken me lately, and tend to feel like I generally don’t rate very high on most people’s lists. But, I feel a million times better than I did, and when I get the urge to complain, I have tried to do it gratefully.

When I write about myself on this blog, I find it difficult to figure out how to articulate certain things. How do I say it was really hard, while making it clear I understand that the fact that I was living in London with an MA is a certain privilege? Heck, that I can view this experience as learning one and not one which plunged me into debt for all times, is a privilege. How do I explain that I understand my experience isn’t universal? Most importantly, how do not sound like this is a ‘just work hard and you’ll get what you want’ story? Because many people work hard, and don’t get much. I got lucky, both by birth and by accident. I don’t know if I articulated that well, but I do know it's true.

So I suppose to sum up nearly 2000 words there is this: The past year has been one of the most difficult times of my life. I think it is because I’ve been ready to tackle some issues that I might not have in the past, to challenge the way I have always thought, and to go through a process of discovery. To work for something in a way I have not in the past, to understand the difference between true complaints and whining. This past year in all its warts, its tears, its pain, has also been one of the most necessary in discovering what I am capable of and what my worth is as a person. The past year has been a very literal representation of ‘the journey.’ I don’t think all journeys need to be so painful, and I also know they don’t all end the way mine did. If my destination would have been different, I don’t know what this post would have looked like. The journey may not be more important than the destination, but it helps you recognise the destination for it is: the opportunity to rest, reflect, and let yourself off the hook because boy you sure did try, and then, to gear up for the next journey. Because, soon enough, there will be another one to begin. I do hope that my next one isn’t so painful, but if it is half as educational it will be worth it.

Working 9 to 5

I have some exciting news, which frankly I wasn't sure I'd be able to write. But here they are, some of the sweetest I've written in long time: I GOT A JOB IN LONDON.

Yes, you have read that correctly. I was offered (and obviously accepted) a job working for the National Union of Students (NUS) here in London. I start on the 13th of July and will be working with students. It is similar to the work I did at Saint Mary, and the work I did at Saint Mary is the main reason I was offered the job. It is a one year contract, so I will be in London for at least another year. Whee!

I will have much more to report once I actually start the job. I also hope I will have some fun things to write about now that I will able to do things in London, like go to shows and travel around England and Europe.

Thanks to everyone for their support, prayers, and thoughts. I certainly couldn't have done it without you.

We are the World

When I was in kindergarten, I remember buying a Michael Jackson button at the Vineland Fun Fair. It was raining that day, so it was in the gym, and the button had a blue background and Michael was in a white jacket (I think). It most likely cost 25 cents, but man was it cool. It was also a really big deal one day during rest time when we got to listen to one of his records, most likely Thriller, (and yes I said record), in Mrs. Hawk's class. These lovely memories, along with good music, have always made me smile with regards to Michael, even as he became, more, ahem, odd. So, I think it only proper that I post a little something to say RIP Michael, albeit a week late. Hey, I was in Dublin!

Of course, if it is the the cheesiest thing ever, that's okay too. But really, what could be better, I ask you, than a little "We are the World?" It is a trip back to the 1980s, (which some of you will recall, were my home), and it really will make you laugh (and laugh) and cry (even if from laughter). But, honestly, I kinda like the song, I love the memories it makes me think of (which may be why I like the song) and for sure it gets stuck in your head.

So, here's to you MJ.

I know I've been away

For like ages. Mainly it is because things are kind of hard right now. Still no proper job, working six days a week, spending my time applying to jobs. It's all rather unglamorous and a bit depressing. And who wants to read that? And, I really don't want to write all about that. Blah.

But, things will have to change soon, whether I get a job in London, or have to move on to my next destination (which, I so don't want to do, but the reality of economics may force me to). And I'll be back boring all of you with my life.

In the meantime, keep the faith, pray, or send me good vibes, that I'll get a job in London.

Some of the Best of London 2008

I have chronicled my past year in London, and have written about the good and the bad. But, I thought it would be nice to "show" everyone why I love London, and why I'm trying so hard to stay here. Whenever I look at them, I am hit over the head with the realisation that I DO LIVE IN LONDON. Sometimes I can't believe it. These pictures won't do London justice, and they certainly can't show the parts that can't be quantified, but I do hope you enjoy them.   So, without further adieu, here's London (and Scotland): 2008

Saying Good-Bye, It's Not Getting Easier

I've recently returned to London after three great weeks in Missouri.  I had been almost a year since I was home, and despite a few changes to the landscape, most everything was the same. And it was great.  I love how home is always the same for me; I know what my house is going to smell like, I know where the floorboard creaks, and I just generally feel comfortable there. I love seeing my Mom, Dad, and sisters.  I love hanging out with my friends who really 'get me,' and I love not having to be so outgoing to meet people. After a year where I struggled in many areas, it was nice to take a break from all the worry.  It was basically my own version Cheers, since everybody knew my name. A few people even cried out, "Sara!" when I entered the room. 

After the holiday, where I got to see many people, but not everyone, I had to go through the whole process of saying good-bye again.  It was not easy.  I was just getting used to being home and seeing my family and friends when it was over.  Although I wanted to go back to London, and I missed London, it was very difficult knowing it would, most likely, be at least a year before I saw many people again.  

I have been thinking, as I re-adjust to being in London, that ever since I went away to school at 18, my life has filled with saying good-bye a lot. First it was to my family and a whole way of life, and then at the end of each year of school, good-bye to all my friends.  Then there was that big good-bye to college life and Truman State University.  Good-bye to all my friends from various work places when I left, good-bye when I left for (and from) Jamaica, and now again bye, bye, bye. And sometime, I'll probably have to say good-bye to London.  And after all of this practice, it's not really getting easier.  I still cry when I have to do it, and I still miss people and places, when I'm not with them.   All the time, actually, no matter where I am. I'm not depressed about it, I realized this is just how it is.   A price, I suppose, for moving around. 

Still, there is a reason why I keep doing it, and it has a lot to do with my desire to try new things and push the limits of my comfort zone.  While the past year was hard, it has also been an incredible learning experience.  It has allowed me to meet people I never would have, and learn so much about myself.  The trade-off of course is that the more people I meet and grow close to, the more people I will eventually have to miss.  But, I have decided, that I'd rather miss than miss out on something because I was afraid to say good-bye.  I think, in some sort of way, the difficulty of saying good-bye is a very real signal that all of this worth it for me.   And that all of you who are increasingly scattered around the world, and that I never get to see enough, have helped to make it that way. Because, if it hard for me to say good-bye to you, then the time we spent together really meant something.  Each good-bye is a representation of both beginning and ending, but more importantly, all that comes in between, the proof that I truly am making connections, learning, and growing.

That was the year that was...

2008 was an interesting kind of year for me, one with a whole heck of a lot of fun, and yet also a lot of time feeling pretty low. I entered a new decade, and after freaking out about it for two years, have discovered that it isn’t so bad. I realized that much of the freaking out was based more on what or where I thought I should be at this time in my life. Once I understood that it was simply a milestone on my journey of life I should be glad I was able to have, I felt better. (Yes, I just typed journey of life in all seriousness. I suspect the “anti-cheese” police are now hot on my tail.) In fact, turning the big 3-0, helped me take myself more seriously, and I’ve noticed others do as well. I’m slowly figuring out that getting older isn’t the most awful thing, because while it does come with wrinkles, it also brings experience, confidence, and a better understanding of who you are. Plus, I’ve started to find wrinkles fascinating, which I guess is good, since I’m probably getting new ones daily.

2008 brought the successfully completion of my MA, with grades that weren’t quite what I hoped, probably what I deserved, and good enough for me to be content. I finally got to France, and Paris, and the Eiffel Tower, and the Arc de Triomphe, which I have been dreaming about since sixth grade. I developed friendships with some great people, and with these people I traveled to 5 countries (3 on one trip!) and 2 continents. Two of my best friends from the States came to London, and good times and trip to Scotland were had (the good times included the trip to Scotland). I queued in the line for Wimbledon, sat at Centre Court, and had strawberries & crème. I “flew” the London Eye a few times, started to learn the underground and bus system, and began volunteering with some great people. I moved into a new flat, lucked out in the flat mate department, took some deep breaths and begin to make new friends, and I am still in love with London.

I also struggled a lot in 2008, the first struggle being learning how it is to live so far away from friends and family for so long. Then, in September, after seeing the last of my classmates off, I was really alone. I had to take some chances, go to some places by myself, and trust that there are nice people who will like me everywhere. I also struggled mightily on the job front, sending out over 30 applications, and being rejected by all 30. I have never been quite so financially restrained, nor had this tough of a time finding a job. After all when you are rejected by the industry you worked in for four years, you really start to appreciate the times you had a job, a paycheck, and some financial peace of mind.

I never really make official New Years resolutions, and the ones I unofficially make tend to be of the kind that ask of me to sort of change who I am, what I look like, or how I act. I’ve read many places that most New Year’s resolutions have been broken by the third week of January or so. I suspect this is for many reasons, but probably because people view resolutions, as the chance to become a different person, and that, my friends, will nearly always fail. But, I have decided to make a list of things that I’d like to work on for the next year, things that I already am, or can be (or can have or can do), but that require a little patience, a little hard work, and/or a little being open to new possibilities. So, without further adieu, here is my list of things I’ll be working on:

1) Find a job that I will not dread going to work/can pay the bills with (maybe not in that order)
2) Live within my means and start building up my savings
3) Continue to work to build relationships in London
4) Try and keep my room clean (I think this will be on my list for all of eternity, but I work each year to do it)
5) Take French lessons, or at least listen to French podcasts, to begin my journey back to fluency
6) Write and blog on a more regular basis
7) Travel within Europe this year (obviously dependent on numbers 1 & 2)
8) Work to stay in better touch with my friends not in London
9) Read a few more books
10) Read a little less internet

So, to all my old acquaintances and all my new ones, I wish all of you a very Happy New Year, and if 2008 was great for you, I wish 2009 to be just a great, and if 2008 kind of sucked, well, let’s hope that 2009 can only be better.

Cheers.

Almost Home

I'm almost home for the holidays! I am sitting in the Toronto airport and will be boarding in a few minutes. I know I've been terribly silent on this blog, but I've been trying to sort out the London situation. And while it isn't perfectly sorted, I am headed back after Christmas!

All the stress was just making it so difficult for me to spend energy on anything else than making that decision. So, now that it's made, let the posting commence. Maybe even this week!

In the meantime, Happy Holidays!

Happy Thanksgiving

Although I am working today, and England doesn't know it's supposed to be giving me a long weekend for turkey and shopping, I wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. 

I know times are hard for me, and for many.  Despite this, I give thanks to my family and friends who are always behind me, supporting me, and wishing me the best!  

The one in which I am still emotional over

It's been a little over two weeks since that little thing called our election happened.  My election night tale, from across the pond, included a lot of crying. Which should come as absolutely no shock to anyone who knows me.  After all, some claim, I once cried during a Sally Jesse Raphael show. To that I answer: I plead the Fifth.  

I cried a lot on this election day, finally out of happiness and not disappointment.  I cried because the beauty of all those very different looking people from across the country coming together in Chicago, Atlanta, New York, and all those other places I didn't see, to celebrate what I can only describe as a Super Bowl win for the whole country.   I cried because the country made history in the best kind of way, by doing something that seemed impossible before this night.  I cried when I saw all those people waiting to vote and wanting to actually be part of something, and I cried when thinking about how important youth (which, according to who you ask, I may or may not still be part of) were, and how engaged they became. I especially cried when looking at those Kenyan people, who truly live in a different world than most of us in the so-called developed world do, and their jubilation at the role their country played in making this president, and I cried at the symbolism, because I always cry at symbolism, of those two countries, Kenya and U.S., working together to make a president. I cried when looking at that beautiful new first family, because what has always made America the "land of opportunity" is this idea that all can be American, despite background, wealth, or color,  and at least at this moment, that felt true. 

I cried because in 1998 one of my college professors asked how many of us thought a woman would be president in our lifetime, and about two of us (including me) raised our hands.  And while a woman didn't win this time, I believe it will happen in my lifetime. Because in the lifetime of my parents and grandparents, Black people were systematically kept from voting, and now a person who would have been kept from voting is president. And while racism is most certainly not dead, it did sustain a blow that will hopefully one day lead to its death. I hope that there are little kids out there from households in America that are a little different from our own, who believe they too can be president one day, even if they are Muslim, or gay, or marginalized in other ways. And I will know that racism, and its twin, intolerance, really are on death's doorstep when that little kid becomes president in 2048, and we can point to 2008 when things began to change. 

 I cried at John McCain's speech, which was gracious and humble, and I was reminded why I  once liked him.  And I cried during Obama's speech, especially at the part where he talked about humility, because we all could stand to be a bit more humble in our lives. 

I know there is much work to do in the country, and that one man can not fix it all. Expectations are exceedingly high, and I suspect it will take exactly one week from inauguration for the punditry to began in on all he is doing wrong, and I will know life is just where it should be. But right now, I'm focusing on the moment, and the joy of it.  

Here are two videos, the first is of the coverage on the BBC that I watched, calling the race (and I am sorry the video is so bad, but for some reason this is all I could find). I doubt I will ever be able to watch this clip without crying for the rest of my life. The second, from Obama's speech, reaching out to those that didn't vote for him.  It so markedly different from talk of political capital to spend, and I hope for all those that didn't vote for Obama, it helped assure them that he wants to work for you too, since, as he famously once said, there is not a Red America or a Blue America, just a United States of America. 

Video 1:

Video 2:

(my favorite part starts around 8 minutes in)

Hope

I am pretty speechless right now, at 4:07 am in the morning, in London.  But, I am crying and in a bit of disbelief, because I think part of me was always afraid that it would all go wrong.  But it didn't and there is something to be said that our country now has its first non-white president, when 50 years ago many non-white folks were actively kept from voting.  And I think wherever you fall on the ideological divide this is progress in the best kind of way.  

So, this is what I have now: Happiness, tears, and hope.  

My current mantras

The first, by way of my flat mate Nicole (who has been wonderful at encouraging me to stay positive and listening to me when I have bad days) who gave me a little bookmark with this on it; the second by way of my Mom (who has always been wonderful and supportive of me in many ways, including listening to me when I have bad days).

DON'T QUIT
By: Anonymous

When things go wrong

as they sometimes will,

When the road you're

trudging seems all up hill,

When the funds are low

and the debts are high

And you want to smile

but you have to sigh,

When care is pressing you down a bit

Rest, if you must, but don't you quit

Life is queer with its twists and turns,

As everyone of us sometimes learns,

And many a failure turns about

When he might have won had he stuck it out;

Don't give up though the pace seems slow--

You may succeed with another blow.

Success is failure

turned inside out--

The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,

And you can never tell how close you are,

It may be near when it seems so far;

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--

It's when things seem worst you must not quit.

To me, I take this as some comfort in these hard times for me. This endless struggle to find gainful employment in something that is at least somewhat enjoyable to me is taking its toll, financially and emotionally. This poem, with its assurances that something just might be around the corner is helpful. My sense of quitting, in the current situation, is just giving up because it has gotten a little hard. So, I'm giving it the old college try, and if it doesn't fall into place the way I want it to, it won't be for a lack of trying. And at that point, it won't be failure, it will be a growing experience. An experience in the worth of trying when it gets hard, and being open to other paths that one doesn't realize exist. Maybe my way is in London, or maybe it is someplace else. I know that right now, I want it in London, and I need to know at the end of the day, I did my best at trying. I've never done so well at trying at things that are hard for me, so it's about doing that. But it is also about learning to recognize failure that comes from lack of trying, and a different kind of "failure." And that's where the second "mantra" comes in.


THE SUCCESS OF FAILURE
By: Joan Chittister (a really cool nun who always has such great and calming things to say)
If there is anything that strikes terror into the soul of the sincere it is fear of failure. To be a success in something marks the measure of our worth. It gives us honor on the street corners of the world. It gives us stature among our peers. It gives us a sense of invincibility. But one of the central questions of life may well be how to tell success from failure.

It’s not so simple a task as we are inclined to think, perhaps, at the first toss of the question. Failure, we know, is unacceptable. We do a great deal to avoid it. We do even more to hide it. But the real truth is that there is a great deal of failure in all success: Winning pitchers lose a good many baseball games. Scientists can spend their entire lives mixing the wrong compounds, writing the wrong formulas, testing the wrong hypotheses.

The problem is that there are two faces of failure, one of them life-giving, the other one deadly. I have seen them both.

The first face of failure I saw in the life of an internationally recognized writer who, first intent on being an English professor, studied at Oxford but failed. I gasped at the very thought of it. But she spoke about the loss of those years and that degree with a laugh and a toss of her head: “Luckiest thing that ever happened to me,” she said. “Otherwise I’d be in a small college someplace teaching writing. As it is, I’m doing just what I’m supposed to be doing.” I thought about the remark for days. Here was a woman who knew the place of failure in our eternal quest to be ourselves.

The second face of failure I saw in a woman with great musical talent who, discouraged by the difficulty of her early studies, dropped out of music school and never studied another thing in her life. She died disgruntled, underdeveloped, and trapped within the boundaries of the self.

Clearly, failure may, in the long run, be the only real key to success. The first step to becoming what we most seek may well be indifference to dashed hope and perpetual disappointment and the depression that comes with reaching for guinea gold and grasping only dust.

But if that is the case, then we must develop the capacity for failure in a society that glorifies success but gives short shrift to the forging of it. We must learn to recognize, to value, to prize all the endless attempts it takes to do what we want to do but which for us is still undoable.

So, I'm taking both of these writings with me each day, not quitting, and also learning to "recognize that prize of endless attempts at trying," without feeling like if it doesn't work the way I want, I did something wrong. Not that this is easy nor have I perfected this quest that amounts to a peace within myself that I've done what I can do. But I am getting there and feeling more confident each day, even within many moments of doubt, that it will work out, somehow, in the end.

[if you want to read more of Sister Joan's stuff, go to http://www.benetvision.org/]

I have my degree!!

I recently found out that I was successful in my dissertation attempt and therefore have officially completed and obtained my Master's Degree!  While I don't officially graduate until March, they can't take it away from me now.  

The past year has been such an experience for me as I've chronicled as much as I could here on this blog.  And as excited as I am, I am also sad because it is officially over. Somehow I think I would be more excited if I could just find a job in the non-profit sector and felt like I was really getting myself some skills to help me get to the next level. 

Anyway, I have many thoughts running through my head, and I can't seem to get the thoughts to align into a coherent piece of writing--I've tried several times since my last blog post.  I'll keep trying and hopefully something soon will emerge!

Ocho Rios

Here are some pictures of Ocho Rios in Jamaica, which marked the first of many trips around the island I took while in Jamaica last year.  It's been a little over a year since I moved to Jamaica and that fact combined with me finishing my dissertation centered around Jamaica, I have been missing it very much lately. 

And because of that, you get a Jamaica picture. 

These particular pictures are at Dunn's 

River Falls, a "must-see" in Jamaica.  Yes it is touristy and cheesy, but it is also very cool and pretty. We climbed up the falls (and I didn't even hurt myself) and then walked down and played and lay on the beach, before heading home to Kingston. If I recall (and I do) our driver was late and there was a lot of traffic, but even that did not ruin the trip. 

 If you want to see more of beautiful Jamaica, as captured by me, click here.  

That's all for today, but I'll be back soon.  

Endings and Beginnings

I have come upon yet another time of change in my life, and frankly I've had quite enough for the past year. Since January 2007, I had three jobs in the U.S., got accepted to and began graduate school, lived in Jamaica, lived in London, worked another job in London, interned at two different non-profit agencies, finished graduate school, completed my dissertation, moved into yet another place, and said good-bye to (too many) people. Whew.

Really, it has been a bit much of late. Seriously though, the past year has provided me some wonderful opportunity for growth, both through good times and the not-so-good times. I've struggled to find my place as an intern in agencies when I was used to being integral in the daily decision making of the Service-Learning Center (oh geez, I almost wrote Centre). I've had to re-evaluate who I am as a student adjusting to not only new grading scales, but how I have changed (or not changed) since the last time, many long years ago. I've had to face the realities of a tight job market for the first time ever, and swallow my pride and be willing to take positions I feel I am over-qualified for. And then swallow it some more upon finding out I'm not even being considered for those, and ask lots of questions and make lots of phone calls to figure out what I'm doing wrong. I've celebrated reacting less emotionally in certain situations, but realized that on this front, I still have a long way to go. Duh. Most recently I have had to tell most, and soon all, of my newest friends, (my counterparts, my partners in this past year: my fellow classmates) good-bye as they left London to start their own new paths. I have struggled with the realities of living someplace where I literally have no support system anywhere near me and what that actually means, and wondering if I have the will to create a new support system. (I do, don't worry). But, I've also marveled at the opportunity and excitement that living in a new place, completely on my own, can bring.

I suppose all of this musing is to say good-bye to my year of graduate school, and hello to what comes next. I'm not entirely sure what this holds, but I know that for awhile, it is London. As is often the case with me, and I've written about this before, endings are sad for me. Even as I look forward to forging new relationships and building a new career, I am nostalgic for the past year. Part of this is of course the good times and people I met along the way; part of it surely is because at least then and there, I had map telling me where to go. I feel quite unsure about where I'm headed, although I feel like it is in the right direction. And writing all of this here is, I guess sort of "internet therapy," or not having to say it out loud all the time but still let you know, or maybe it is just because I enjoy writing, and they say write about what you know, and right now this is what I know.

Actually, it's probably just about me seeing how many commas and semicolons I can use in one post. I'm too tired to count, but if the goal was to use a lot I surely succeeded. Hmm, I think that is a byproduct of too much dissertation writing lately. But, actually, it is very indicative of what goes on in my head. People who know me well, know that my brain runs faster than my mouth, but my mouth runs pretty fast, and sometimes when it all comes out I wish I had the benefit of visual commas, semicolons, and parentheses to help me out.

Anyway, practically speaking, this blog may change a bit now that it isn't solely about my graduate school journey (since I started it as I was leaving). I'm still going to keep posting, but it may not always be so directly related to my life, as I presume that will become very boring in the upcoming months. (Which is, assuming it ever was not boring, which may be a fallacy of thinking on my part.) I will still keep up the picture of the week as I still have a ton of pictures and hope to keep traveling, once I get some money again. I'd also like to have more comments so if you're reading out there, let me know what you think!

So, now, onto my next challenge, and on that I will obviously keep you posted.