Two years. Two Embassies. Two Visas. (Hopefully.)
If, instead of moving to America, I had gotten pregnant instead, I would be having a baby about now.
That’s a patently ridiculous statement – after all I don’t want kids – but it’s interesting to me as a measure of time. My last post on this subject was at the end of December, and it was very much a commentary on the sadness and loneliness that can take hold when relocating from a country that you’ve spent your whole life in.
Thankfully, the nine-month report is a much happier, healthier, and altogether bouncier child (sorry).
It’s that time. Time to talk about the Big H. No, not Harvey Weinstein, the other thing. Homesickness.
A few months ago I dumped a bunch of potential titles for posts into my Drafts folder to remind me what I had ideas about. One title was simply Homesickness, and AJ said “Well, you can’t write about that yet, because you haven’t gotten over it.”
I think I’ve been truly homesick just once before, back in September 2003 (or was it October?) when my family drove me the three hours from Wales to Manchester, and dumped me there. I remember feeling a profound sense of loss that day when they drove away, leaving me living on my own for the first time ever. This experience has been wholly different, for obvious reasons.
In case anyone thinks I’m being in any way sexist, I am of course referring to the Ludacris song ‘Move Bitch’ that has been co-opted into some of the most hilarious videos I’ve seen.
New York City has a problem. Now, I know it’s not a problem isolated to this particular city, nor even this country. I am also aware that London has its fair share of it too, but I swear it is nowhere near as bad as it is here (despite AJ’s protestations to the contrary. She’s supporting her hometown, I get it. But Jesus Harry Christ people, get the fuck off your phones.
‘Sup guys and gals, it’s been a while!
I started this blog as a way to talk about my relocation from London, United Kingdom, to New York City, United States of America. Since getting here, I’ve written one post about my mental first day, two posts on how amazing a Caribbean Cruise is (who knew?), and another about how crap American banks are.
So why, exactly, has it been so bloody hard for me to write something new and meaningful in two-and-a-half months, and what have I been up to in that time?
As it turns out, quite a bit. So I thought I’d finally sit down with some Biffy Clyro and tell you about it.
There’s a lot of Nationalism floating around at the moment, in both America and the United Kingdom. I’ve stayed inoculated against the disease by avoiding the rightwing press and staying informed, but it’s a risky business.
One of the big topics that’s been beaten to death by both sides is how ‘imports’ are ruining our lives, how everything would be so much better if we just ‘bought American’ or ‘brought our skills back to England’. Now I’m not going to delve into the whole globalisation argument, but I did find that an odd thing for Trump to be banging on about, especially when everything in America is the same.
Okay, that’s a little hyperbolic, but hear me out.