5:57 p.m. - 2002-06-22
What have I got myself into? Part 4
A Warning before you go on: This is one damn long entry. I started writing it, and have been for the past few hours, and I'm hungry, so I'm going to go make dinner. I just thought I should warn you. It's long. Very long. Very, very long.
Ok, so I realize this thing is getting a little long. But, as I said before, I'm finding it quite theraputic, so I'm just going to muddle along with it and you can read it in installments, if you desire to do so.
I was just thinking about all the stuff I haven't yet mentioned...some more bad stuff, and some good. Why aren't I mentioning any of the good stuff? Well, I supposed because I'm in the mood to rant and rave about all the crap I'm going through at the moment, probably because of the events earlier on in the day. I'll get to the good stuff eventually...but maybe when I'm in a better mood. Or maybe I'll just stay on the computer all day and night and just go on and on and on. Who can tell?
Anyhow...on to the Big Questions.
1. Why did I come here again?
I have come to realize that I came here for various reasons that perhaps weren't the right ones, or maybe just slightly naive ones.
I had previously mentioned to someone that I liked the idea of coming here with a clean slate. I could start anew, without anyone here (accept for a very few) having any preconcieved notions about me. Making new friends, making a new life for myself, at least for a little while. I've since come to discover that, perhaps, the slate was a bit too clean for my liking. I have generally been the kind of person who both enjoys being in a comfort zone but is always looking to get a litte more out of life. I went away to University (twice) but almost always came home on the weekends. I travelled around Europe and New Zealand/Asia all by myself, but always made sure I had an open-ended plane ticket so I could return home at any time. Basically, I look for change, but I put myself in a position to run back home when it doesn't work out for me quickly and easily. I thought, or maybe just wanted, it would be easy here. I could just find a job and a flat and all would be good. Nope. I need to make an effort, a big one. This is something I've realized. But that raises a whole other load of questions? Am I willing to make the effort? Invest the time and energy? To, perhaps, be miserable for a while, and reap the rewards of hard work and toil? I don't know. Maybe not.
The second reason I came here was to begin living life on my own terms. To put it bluntly, cut the apron strings and start to fend for myself. In London, I wouldn't have my parents' house to live in, my parents' office to work in and my parents' money to fall back on if I got myself into a little debt. Basically, I wanted to test myself - see if I could pay my own rent, handle my own bills with my own job and my own life. It seemed a reasonable idea to come to London to do this.
But why couldn't I just have done it at home? I could have found myself a good job, my own place and done the fend for myself thing just as easily in TO as I could in London. More easily, in fact. I know TO, I know that I can get a good job there, and I would have a social support network to keep me going. And at home, it might have been MORE of a challenge, because I would have had to actively resist the temptation to fall back on my parents. In short, why did I need to travel 1000s of miles over an ocean to prove that I can make it on my own? Again, I dont' know.
2. What am I going to do now?
This is a very big question that I've been thinking about a lot. I've kind of got myself into a slightly perplexing situation that is making the answer to this question more difficult than I'm comfortable with. But I think it requires some context.
I came to London knowing that my brother and his girlfriend (now fiancee) were going to be here, and that made me feel good. I had hoped they would help me find a job and a flat - give me advice on where to look, peruse their contacts for a bit of assistance, just basically help out. But maybe I had hoped they would help a bit too much...hold my hand. I have to admit, I like having my hand held when I'm trying to change my life or do new things. People often think that I'm a confident person, but I'm not. Not all the time, anyway.
So, when I get here and they leave and I'm left on my own for 5 days, it kind of gets me down. I'm not blaming them or saying they're bad people. Far from it. It's just that I kind of set myself up for a fall because I was relying on them too much (and I hadn't even been here 24 hours). That first weekend, the job search is slow, but I'm feeling pressure to get out of their place as soon as possible so that I don't burden them with my presence in their flat for too long. Again, this is me doing the over-analyzing, not any fault or error of theirs. In fact, in the last couple of weeks, they've graciously offered to let me stay as long as I want until I can find a good job and get myself on my feet and what not. They're being really supportive, I have to tell you.
So, I take this crappy job, the first job I was offered, which all of us realize from the onset that it's a crappy job and that I'm not making much money, that the hours suck and that my boss is an idiot. And I start to look for a place the first weekend after, which doesn't work out so good because it's hard to find a decent flat (or flat share for that matter) in London. So, perhaps needless to say, I start to get a bit discouraged.
I'm a Precipitous person. "Precipitous" is my new favorite word, because it really does describe my decision making style. I get an idea, a plan or whatever, and I just go with it. I find ways of rationalizing it so that it's the best idea I've ever had. Later, I realize that maybe I was just running away from something that was going to be a bit difficult or that I jumped on the bandwagon of popular thought with my friends or whomever. Impulsive is another way to describe it, but I prefer "Precipitous".
I mention my precipitousness because one week ago, a mere two weeks into my adventure, I was ready to end it all. I'd pack up all my stuff, give my thanks to JandC, and tell Eddy to stick this job where the sun don't shine and, while you're at it, kiss my big, fat ass good-bye cause I'm outta here! There were a couple of reasons for this: the first was that I was, as I mentioned, a little discouraged. The second was a conversation I had had with Charlotte the on the Saturday. John was away for the weekend, so we went out to the pub for a couple of drinks. It was actually a really good evening - we talked about everything; jobs, friends, the upcoming wedding and I started to really get to know her. We also talked about my situation, and various aspects of it that I won't go into detail about right now (as confessions go, this is a good one, but I still have to be guarded on some things). And there was one conclusion that we came to that gave me the impotous to seriously think about going home, and that was this: I thought that if I went home, it would be considered a major failure on my part. I wasn't able to do it, I didn't have the right stuff, I couldn't even make it a couple of weeks, what a pathetic loser I was. But Charlotte helped me realize that it didn't have to be that way. If I went home with a purpose, with a reason, and not just because I was a wimp, then I wouldn't necessarily be a step backwards, but a step forwards. If I could go home, and still find my way into cutting the apron strings from my parents, but have a good time doing it, then it would be a positive thing.
Let me tell you, she (and I) had me convinced.
But, as is proven by my current situation, this was not to be. I didn't change my plane ticket and tell Eddy off, I decided to stay...at least for a little while, and there were a couple of reasons for this. The first was a simple matter of money and common sense. JandC are getting married in 7 weeks. The wedding ceremony is taking place in London and I have to be here for it. It just didn't make sense for me to go home for a month, spend the money to get back here for a week, and then return home. In the face of common sense, I was kind of obliged to stick around. The second reason came from yet another conversation, this one with my mom. She thought about what I was saying about a step forward, not back, it would make more sense for me to be in TO, yadda, yadda, yadda. But she saw through me. The fact of the matter was, I was giving up. No matter how you rationalize it, I just hadn't given this whole thing a fair shot. Going home would be a positive thing, but doing it too soon (too Precipitously) would be a bad idea, and I would probaly regret it.
I really hate it when people throw the truth into your face. It's just not fair. How am I supposed to live a happy and non-stress life when all around me I have to be faced with the unadulterated, brutal truth? I spend hours upon hours trying to get away from it, trying to rationalize my way around it, or just attempting to avoid it altogether. My mother is just not helping matters.
But I digress. The fact was, I had to stay, at least until the wedding which, at that point was a long 8 weeks away. This simple truth discouraged me even further, for a little while. But I'm not quite so down on the idea anymore, I'm just trying to figure out what to do in the meantime. Another thing I've realized of late is that I'm the type of person who likes to have a plan. I'm uncomfortable with being up in the air about things, not knowing what the Hell I'm going to do. I know, perhaps a little too well right now, that plans change, sometimes drastically. But I'm down with that, I can change my plans no problem, I just don't like NOT having A Plan. So, basically, for the past two weeks I've been trying to get my head around a plan of action, and my situation just keeps on throwing me for a loop.
Take for example today. About 8 hours ago, I had a bit of a plan. I was going to get my National Insurance Number, give a week's notice at the Globe, and then look for another job, preferably temporary so that I didn't have to commit to staying for a long time, move into a long term-accomodation hostel-like place so that I could meet some people and let things run their course for a little while. Perfect, A Plan. But, as you may recall, the whole NI# thing got a bit bunged up and I'm in a state of uncertainty with a capitol U - Uncertainty. I won't get another interview for at least two weeks, and I can't just go to Eddy and say "I need another letter confirming I'm employed (this one using the pro-noun SHE). Oh, and by the way, I quit." (Actually I could conceivable do this, I'm just not really comfortable with the idea) We've already established the un-common sense-ness of going home. And there is just no way I can stick out 2 or 3 more weeks at my current job (I think I would literally, and I mean LITERALLY, go insane). So...what am I going to do now? That is the question.
To be honest, I haven't come up with an answer yet. But I'll keep you posted.
3. Do I regret having come here?
This is one I've been toying with for some time now. I was kind of regretting it that first lonely weekend, regretting it a bit more that second week of work, and totally regretting it when I had my going home epiphany. But now...No, I'm not.
For a while before I came to London, I was debating the question "Should I stay or should I go". There were some very good reasons for this debate, which I will not get into at this time, and it was taking up most of my over-analyzing-my-life thinking time. I was up and down on the subject - one minute deciding to stay and the next deciding to go. In the end, as is quite self-evident and probably needs no mention but here it is anyway, I decided to go. The big part of it was that I felt I need to "get it out of my system". I had been planning this for a long time. The thing was, by the time I actually got around to doing the London/on my own thing, the original circumstances had changed. I was supposed to come London right after my fairly long trip around New Zealand/Asia and get started on setting up a life in London. JandC would be out for a couple of weeks after I had arrived, so there wasn't this big pressure to get out of the flat and, having been away from home for 2 months already, I was in a perfect frame of mind to do it.
Then I went home for two months and everything got screwed up.
I got comfortable. Too comfortable, in fact. I was having the time of my life in TO (to a certain degree, I should admit. There was some negative stuff that actually pushed me to come to London, but that's a later paragraph or two). All the time I was at home I was planning my eventual return to London, but getting more and more involved in my life there. By the time it came to make a decision, I was in too deep and, as I see it now, it was one of the hardest things I've had to do in my life.
But despite my indecisiveness, the idea had been planted in my outrageously lavish imagination (by me) and I needed to see it through. I think I would have regretted staying in Toronto more than I would if I left London. Which is not to say that leaving Toronto was easy. It wasn't. I had to leave some pretty big parts of life back there, ones that I really didn't want to leave. But it was for the best, so I suppose I can't really regret leaving entirely. Maybe just a little, though.
So, that's the story. Actually, it's probably only part of it. I could go on for a few more (hundreds of) pages, but I think I'll rest now.
Thanks for getting this far.
