Liam has just brought home the most phallic carrot I have ever seen.
There really is no adequate response.
19 December 2010
16 December 2010
Today I have to clear out my desk.
My replacement starts the day after we get back from Christmas, and I think it's important she's sitting at her own desk from day one.
I'll still be there, for almost a month all in, to help her transition (read: braindump all the things I haven't yet had time to write into cohesive handover notes) and train some of the new staff while she settles in - but it'll be from a hotdesk. Which is going to be supremely weird if I'm not careful.
My replacement starts the day after we get back from Christmas, and I think it's important she's sitting at her own desk from day one.
I'll still be there, for almost a month all in, to help her transition (read: braindump all the things I haven't yet had time to write into cohesive handover notes) and train some of the new staff while she settles in - but it'll be from a hotdesk. Which is going to be supremely weird if I'm not careful.
13 December 2010
11 December 2010
Official
Yesterday we had to take the day off work and catch a dawn-o-clock train to Glasgow.
The mission? Avoid getting deported.
Currently, I am granted leave to remain in the UK because my big important job sponsors me to stay (they even had to write the government and say no one else in Europe could do my job as well as me to prove I wasn't stealing work from EEA nationals and everything).
Which means the day I stopped working there, I technically would have been an illegal alien.
So, after much agonising discussion (after all, we are planning to leave, it's just a question of timing) - we decided I needed a visa that let me live and work until we finally board the plane and wave goodbye.
Which meant in government terms form FLR(M). Or, a marriage visa.
The UK government is all up with modern life and so this form is for anyone married, civil partnered, or "living in a relationship akin to marriage".
So, yesterday we traipsed to the Border Agency with our bank statements and tax forms and proof we live together for the past few years and had our own pseudo-civil-service.
We had to sign a bit of paper saying we intended to stay in this committed relationship. This was promising the government that we are Us, and will be from here on out.
It could just be an ID card that means I'm not deported.
But actually, it's a pretty big fucking deal.
Because for me, it's the same promise as married. One I already made in my heart, I just finally said it out loud.
Being legally bound doesn't change anything, yet it is more than just a document. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like I made a big step yesterday.
A momentous moment, thrown into relief by the shitty cubicle in the dodgy office complex in which it took place.
And yet perfectly highlighted by its weirdness. How he held my hand in the creepy waiting room. How I chatted to the security guards to help ease the formality (and tension in his shoulders). How we made weird faces and silent conversation about the menagerie around us, including the adorable toddler and the insane mail order bride. How we came home to collapse in a sleepy heap and have celebratory cheesecake straight from the tin.
How no matter how weird or hard or exhausting the process is, at the end of the day we're still two little beans in our little bean pod. Just the way it should be.
The mission? Avoid getting deported.
Currently, I am granted leave to remain in the UK because my big important job sponsors me to stay (they even had to write the government and say no one else in Europe could do my job as well as me to prove I wasn't stealing work from EEA nationals and everything).
Which means the day I stopped working there, I technically would have been an illegal alien.
So, after much agonising discussion (after all, we are planning to leave, it's just a question of timing) - we decided I needed a visa that let me live and work until we finally board the plane and wave goodbye.
Which meant in government terms form FLR(M). Or, a marriage visa.
The UK government is all up with modern life and so this form is for anyone married, civil partnered, or "living in a relationship akin to marriage".
So, yesterday we traipsed to the Border Agency with our bank statements and tax forms and proof we live together for the past few years and had our own pseudo-civil-service.
We had to sign a bit of paper saying we intended to stay in this committed relationship. This was promising the government that we are Us, and will be from here on out.
It could just be an ID card that means I'm not deported.
But actually, it's a pretty big fucking deal.
Because for me, it's the same promise as married. One I already made in my heart, I just finally said it out loud.
Being legally bound doesn't change anything, yet it is more than just a document. I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like I made a big step yesterday.
A momentous moment, thrown into relief by the shitty cubicle in the dodgy office complex in which it took place.
And yet perfectly highlighted by its weirdness. How he held my hand in the creepy waiting room. How I chatted to the security guards to help ease the formality (and tension in his shoulders). How we made weird faces and silent conversation about the menagerie around us, including the adorable toddler and the insane mail order bride. How we came home to collapse in a sleepy heap and have celebratory cheesecake straight from the tin.
How no matter how weird or hard or exhausting the process is, at the end of the day we're still two little beans in our little bean pod. Just the way it should be.
03 December 2010
Life in the fast lane
Things are changing. I am changing.
All of a sudden, life isn't happening to me - I am making life happen. Which is highly unexpected, but incredible.
In sum, I have quite my job. I am leaving Scotland. We are beginning a new life.
It will probably be back near Midwestia, and it will probably involve Liam being an academic. Me, I want to make documentaries and be a creative consultant on science and history projects. I want to write a book of essays. I want to be my art, not just commission other people's anymore.
It's not really a plan. First time in my life I haven't planned every step and sub-category along the way.
But you know what? That's not the only way to do it. and in fact, it's fucking exhausting to worry so much.
To be so preoccupied with the future I never get to enjoy now.
I am quitting more than my job, I am quitting being typeA. No matter what battlescars made me cope that way, I am unchoosing it. Right now.
Besides, everything I put on the list of life achievements so far has happened (yes, I really did have a list taped inside my closet):
Go to Italy - check
Travel the world - check
Be important and powerful - check
Fall in love - check
Live in Europe - check
be published - check
be famous - check
Go back to Scotland - check
Have letters after my name - check (it's BS MSc, but still)
Maybe I set my sights low.
Maybe I changed my mind.
But being on the local news and recognised in the grocery store isn't as fun as you think.
And living in Europe is amazing, but exhausting too. I'm ready to not be the foreigner for a while. I've forgotten what it's like to fit in. Maybe I never will, but I'd like to put down the burden of being special for awhile at least.
and I figure I'm young enough to throw it out the window and have an adventure.
We talk about joining the peacecorps or backpacking in Thailand. Roadtriping the east coast and learning to sail. I have so much more life than spreadsheets. And my ideas are too big for a town this small.
And frankly, for once, I don't care if I fail. I don't want to be perfect anymore, I just want to be Sara.
And for now she is just not a desk job, small town, salaried person. Even if it's an amazing job and a big salary. even if it's a heart breakingly beautiful town. and a world of people who re passionate about interesting things.
It's just not going to cut the mustard until I make and do and be what I want. What I believe in.
And I've had just enough success to know other people believe me too. My one great gift in life is so much enthusiasm it's contagious. So many ideas and connections and possibilities the world is teeming with projects and more things than I can ever do.
I love having ideas. They are pretty good ones too (good enough other people steal them for their book jackets and newspaper articles, and if you are my boss, a lot more than that). And if they are good enough to steal maybe they are good enough to sell. Hell, good enough to actually do something with instead of shelving for someday.
And frankly, my ideas are way better than my work ethic, so I may as well find a way to make money at what I do well. So why wouldn't I take the leap? What have I got to lose?
All of a sudden, life isn't happening to me - I am making life happen. Which is highly unexpected, but incredible.
In sum, I have quite my job. I am leaving Scotland. We are beginning a new life.
It will probably be back near Midwestia, and it will probably involve Liam being an academic. Me, I want to make documentaries and be a creative consultant on science and history projects. I want to write a book of essays. I want to be my art, not just commission other people's anymore.
It's not really a plan. First time in my life I haven't planned every step and sub-category along the way.
But you know what? That's not the only way to do it. and in fact, it's fucking exhausting to worry so much.
To be so preoccupied with the future I never get to enjoy now.
I am quitting more than my job, I am quitting being typeA. No matter what battlescars made me cope that way, I am unchoosing it. Right now.
Besides, everything I put on the list of life achievements so far has happened (yes, I really did have a list taped inside my closet):
Go to Italy - check
Travel the world - check
Be important and powerful - check
Fall in love - check
Live in Europe - check
be published - check
be famous - check
Go back to Scotland - check
Have letters after my name - check (it's BS MSc, but still)
Maybe I set my sights low.
Maybe I changed my mind.
But being on the local news and recognised in the grocery store isn't as fun as you think.
And living in Europe is amazing, but exhausting too. I'm ready to not be the foreigner for a while. I've forgotten what it's like to fit in. Maybe I never will, but I'd like to put down the burden of being special for awhile at least.
and I figure I'm young enough to throw it out the window and have an adventure.
We talk about joining the peacecorps or backpacking in Thailand. Roadtriping the east coast and learning to sail. I have so much more life than spreadsheets. And my ideas are too big for a town this small.
And frankly, for once, I don't care if I fail. I don't want to be perfect anymore, I just want to be Sara.
And for now she is just not a desk job, small town, salaried person. Even if it's an amazing job and a big salary. even if it's a heart breakingly beautiful town. and a world of people who re passionate about interesting things.
It's just not going to cut the mustard until I make and do and be what I want. What I believe in.
And I've had just enough success to know other people believe me too. My one great gift in life is so much enthusiasm it's contagious. So many ideas and connections and possibilities the world is teeming with projects and more things than I can ever do.
I love having ideas. They are pretty good ones too (good enough other people steal them for their book jackets and newspaper articles, and if you are my boss, a lot more than that). And if they are good enough to steal maybe they are good enough to sell. Hell, good enough to actually do something with instead of shelving for someday.
And frankly, my ideas are way better than my work ethic, so I may as well find a way to make money at what I do well. So why wouldn't I take the leap? What have I got to lose?
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