and again...

I'm jumping on a train today to head back up north for a final time. Well, not final in the last-time-ever-never-again sense, but final in the, I'm-packing-up-all-my-shit-and-bringing-it-South-with-me sense. I'll be in Scotland again next month, but for very different reasons. 

They say moving and divorce are two of the most stressful things folks do, and I can buy that. I feel they're quite similar to each other, really. There have been a few sleepless nights in the last week, turning over in my head the large catalogue of 'things' I have accumulated in the last four years. Then there are the things I had already. It's not the sort of collection that should belong to someone still renting. To possess that much shit, I should have a house or at least of flat to shove it all in.

The hope is that once the move is done and I've squeezed my life into my parent's garage (for the time being), that some degree of routine and normalcy can commence. No more commuting to Scotland, just the odd long weekend. The flow of both the book and the new job and rediscovering London and all that can proceed without the nagging sense of displacement and unfinished business. 

The truth is, though, that I'm an ex-pat, and there's always a nagging sense of displacement. 

And I've yet to meet anyone without unfinished business.

But I'll take a brief respite, regardless. And the train up will be good. Infinitely superior to driving a van down, I've no doubt. 

 

Buy My Book. Please.

too dark

It's too dark in the mornings. I should be expecting this by now; it's a yearly thing, after all. But the sound of my alarm in the dark feels more like an interruption to sleep than a call to start the day. I get up regardless. Everyone's getting up in the dark, I guess, my own grumbles about it make a pretty shallow dent in the universe, if any. 

And so the cat hears I'm awake and headbutts me to make sure I stay that way, and that while I'm that way, I feed him as soon as possible. 

I check the baseball scores, lamenting the lack of Red Sox in autumn ball, and try to get the balance right for the caffeine in my life.

life keeps happening

My diligence slipped again, and this blog has gone unloved and unattended for over a month. 

Between getting my book funded and written, understanding my new job and moving to London, there never seems the appropriate moment to sit back and pour it out here. Throw the words of my life into the world and see what makes sense. Pausing for reflection these days only leads to yet another mental to-do list. It's not so much reflecting as trying to figure out what comes next. 

It's different. I'm beginning to enjoy this life-in-progress thing. I do miss whimsically staring out to the North Sea and wondering idly if that was it. I was doomed to sit on the edge of Scotland, jobless and watching the waves. I miss the sound of the sea, but not so much the sense of doom. 

Next weekend I must rent a van and move out of the flat in St Andrews. That's probably the largest and most angst-laden item on the to-do list. No idea where I'm going to put all my shit once it's down here, but there you go. My flatmate's been diligent in steadily reducing his possessions over the last few months and I have not. I have a library of books, a library of DVDs and god knows what else. Boxes of outdated computer kit and a shoebox of birthday cards going back to the last century - just the essentials, really. At least I'm not buried under broken old laptops anymore. I did manage to get rid of a few items along the way. 

Well, as far as angst-laden goes, there's that and writing the book. It's coming along, peaks and troughs and whatnot. The lovely folks at my publisher, Unbound, are incredibly helpful. There has been a remarkable number of people offering to help and very kindly buying the book. Friends going back to my youth and complete strangers have all become patrons. It's humbling in a sense. But I'm greedy. I want it fully funded so that it's one less thing on the to-do list. 

I'll be around here more. I feel there's a lot of writing to be done, in all directions.

 

Buy My Book. Please.