That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
Hi everyone.
I'm assuming this will be my last entry before my trip to Belgium next week, and as Thursday will be my last day off before I make the trip (La Liga final matchday this weekend, so it'll be busy) this will be everyone's last chance to let me know what they'd like me to bring from London. Sorry mum, but it's pouring down here as well. No sun to bring. Seriously though, make your requests right now. Like, before Thursday. I have a number of errands to run anyway so I'll be all over London, might as well pick some stuff up along the way.
Schedule-wise we're looking pretty solid, Monday is arrival day and pretty much booked full. Tuesday I'd like to go visit my grandparents on my dad's side in the morning (still need to check whether they'll be in) before meeting up with Mum at 3 p.m. (15:00) to go see grandma. Brother and rest of the family after before I head to Leuven, around what time guys? Meet up at 8.30 p.m? Pool?
Still need to confirm a place to stay, Vincent's available? Meeting up with my brother again on Wednesday, say 2 p.m. in Mechelen? Does that work? So I'd have time before that, should anyone so feel inclined, and after I could squeeze in someone or just go to my dad's and pick up some stuff/say goodbye there.
We're nearly half-way through May, meaning I'm just about at the half-way point of the contract I signed to take this flat. August 17 is when I'll either have to re-sign or move on. It's perhaps the right time to reminisce about these last three months, or to at least do it openly. On one hand, time just flew by, but at the same time I feel like I've been here far longer than just three months. There's little things I've come to do that add to the sense of routine, as if I've lived here all my life. In a way, that's what this feels like. As if there had always been a part of me living here, in this city, and part of me never made the move three months ago to begin with.
Three months is a really short time, but I'm quite scared of what it is I'll find when I return home. And it's absurd, I know. I always do this, and I've been away from home a lot more than just three months in these last six years. But somehow this time it's different, or it feels different. It's hard to explain, really. Perhaps it's the lack of like-minded people all around me, or the fact I don't speak any Dutch unless I'm talking to my dad or my friend Elise.
Maybe it's just how different things were when I came back home last time. At some point I just lost track of time. People don't really change all that much when they graduate high school or attend uni, but at some point, we do in fact reach that point in our lives where we undergo some sort of transformation, and I guess I missed that. It's hard to do much maturing when you live in this idyllic world of surfing, parties and toes in the sand.
These last few months have been a blur really. I've yet to do so much of I had planned on doing when I got here, and looking back on it I kind of f*cked things up right from the start. To be fair, the entire situation was f*cked from the beginning and there was little I could do about that. Now that I've finally "settled in" as people say, I really have to start making some changes, and I know that. I will. I know it's easy to say that and I have a history of doing the exact opposite, but I like to believe the move here proved I'm done not taking control of the things that are within my grasp.
That said, I do think I was wrong in my original assessment of this move. When I decided on moving to London, I wanted this to be permanent. I felt like I had to fully separate myself from all of the sh*t that had been going on and all of the things that drove me to the very brink of my being, and what I truly needed was a fresh start. I called it a do-over, kind of like pushing the respawn button. I apologised the to everyone around me, because I thought I sounded like a complete ass. As if the people around me hadn't been enough, and I needed to replace all of you with new, shinier versions of yourself. That's never how I felt of course, and I really hope none of you took it that way.
Three months into this whole ordeal I've come to the full realisation that I was wrong. Mind you, this wasn't a mistake. But life doesn't deal in absolution. There's no such thing as permanent, not in this world. And there's no breaking free from the places and people that made you who you are. We never, ever leave our loved ones, no matter how hard you try.
You know how you associate certain songs with films to the point you can no longer disconnect them (think Moby's Extreme Ways at the end of the Bourne films, or Beck's Everybody's Got to Learn Sometime in the snow-scene of Eternal Sunshine, or perhaps John Legend's Who Did That to You in Django Unchained)? Or how certain smells or sounds or places are etched in your mind?
What I'm trying to say is that despite of all of my moving abroad and travelling and running away, I keep noticing these kind of connections with home. It's been just three months but I'm really anxious to see all of you. I feel like we haven't seen each other in a lifetime and that idea physically hurts. I want to apologise and explain to you all how sorry I truly am, and yet I'd feel like such a hypocrite because I know that at this particular time I can't come back.
I am however certain London isn't where I'm supposed to end up. This city is all kinds of things (I wish I could explain in great detail how I feel about this place and being here in general, but that would take a few thousand words) and I feel priviliged I get to live and work here, but I don't think this is where I'm meant to stay.
I got a very interesting job offer involving a move to New York last week, and while I hardly had to think about turning it down (I absolutely love my position with Turner Media and have little interest in giving it up just months after taking it), the concept of moving to New York for a while was intriguing. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about New York as a potential destination once the whole London experience is over, and an offer like the one I got (one-year contract, meeting with higher management at the end of the contract to discuss the future) could be something that would greatly interest me at some point in the future. These people wanted to move me back in front of a camera (interestingly I've had three such offers in the past month, with the other two coming from Belgian companies offering me a job next to the one I hold with Bleacher Report. We'll see what these people say, but it might be worth looking into B/R's stance on this as I can only imagine they'd welcome collaborations with foreign media), something I hadn't considered in a while.
But I digress. At this point I have no idea of what I'll be doing in three months. I very much want to keep working with the B/R Breaking News Team, but as it turns out my location would no longer be an issue once all of the initial paperwork is handled (and that took a while, somehow). A colleague has already invited me to move into his flat (although he might be leaving the place by then, but we could always find something new together) and things aren't altogether horrible at my current flat.
There's one major issue though. I really, truly, absolutely miss the ocean. I think this one's quite hard to explain for people who don't surf or have never really spent any significant time near/on the ocean. But there's something about the vastness of the thing, the pure power of the swell beneath you and the significance of the horizon, if that makes any sense. I don't just miss surfing -- I miss the actual ocean. I miss being in it at six in the morning or at sunset, I miss hearing the crashing waves in the dead of night and I miss the constant smell of salt in the air. On that note, I should perhaps look into moving to Cornwall.
Short hits before I sign off, as I must be boring all of you at this point. I uploaded a photo of the local fruit shop here in Shepherd's Bush (which somehow is open later than the pubs), which is about as run-down as the rest of the street. That wasn't the London I figured I'd be experiencing, so I set out to find the most modern, gargantuan hypermarket in the city, the kind of modern nightmare we don't even have in Belgium. I finally found my Orwellian monstrosity in Stratford, housing thousands of shoppers with blank stares on their faces as they found their way throughout dozens of blank aisles. The contrast with my jolly little shop back in Tobago couldn't have been greater, until I found the fruit section. It was lifeless, bland and stale. Too hygienic and grey. Somehow I couldn't help but think of George, who ran our fruit stall (yes, our surfschool had its own fruit stall) back in Pleasant Prospect. He'd sit there all day, fruit stalled on the ground next to the road, hoping for the one tourist that would pass every hour to stop his jeep. And his mangos looked infinitely better than the ones I saw in Stratford. Tasted better too.
I know, I'm such a hipster.
On the cancellation of Community. I know, some of you think I'm overreacting and I should preserve this energy for other causes, like Nigerian kidnappings and such. But damnit, I loved Community. I still remember the very first time Vincent told me I should look into it (at the door of De Weerelt as we walked in, telling me "it's a show about a community college. I know it sounds stupid, but you'll like it." and he was right, as usual) and my goodness, what a gem it was he had found. Along with Blackadder, it's probably my favourite comedy series of all time. Community's season two is one of the single greatest seasons I've ever watched, perhaps only bettered by the first season of LOST and Blackadder Goes Fourth. It was so clever and simple and meta and real, all at the same time. So f*ck you NBC. We deserved six seasons and a movie. You promised us six seasons and a movie, by allowing that tagline to become a recurring joke.
Not all hope is lost however. HULU still owes part of the rights and Sony will no doubt be contacting several other cable networks. I'm sure fans will pull a BMS and crowdsource the sh*t out of the movie. All we need is the sixth season.
As an adieu, and for those of you who've yet to experience the absolute awesomeness that is Community (you're the AT&T of people. A pizzaburn on the roof of the world's mouth. YOU ARE THE OPPOSITE OF BATMAN! And you should really give it a go): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j25tkxg5Vws
And finally, I just want to share this video one more time. This is a historic moment, and without a doubt my choice as TV moment of the year so far. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nW-_fFdkegs#t=13
Okay, I think that's about it. I switched to my UK phone when I moved here so if you need to contact me while I'm in Belgium I'd suggest you text as I will hardly be online. My old Belgian number should still work, though you will most likely receive an answer from a British number as I can't be bothered to top my Belgian credit. Seriously, like I'd ever use it. The most likely scenario sees me drunk-dialing a load of people on Tuesday just to get rid of it all, and if there's one thing I should never ever do again it's drunk-dial.
#darkesttimeline y'all.
Edit: My hairdresser was a little overzealous today. Please don't be shocked when you see me.
Song of the Day: Willie Nelson - Are You Sure
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lARIX1EMbwA
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