The thoughts that didn't get thunk

[cosmolinguist]

It's Manchester.

Like all epiphanies, it seems obvious now that I've thought of it. But it was kind of a big deal on the bus to town a few days after Andrew and I returned from Christmas in Minnesota.

I was staring out the dirty plexiglas window at the familiar landmarks of the only bus route I ever seem to see, feeling the buoyancy and contentment I'd found over the holidays (despite their pain and stress) seep out of me. I was trying to figure out why that was happening.

Admittedly some of the reasons are obvious. I was leaving a place where the emotional comforts of nostalgia were matched in the physical comforts of a soft mattress in my childhood room and dinner I didn't have to shop for and cook all on my own, and the mental delights of watching the Discovery Channel again and playing Scrabble. It may not be palm frond fans and peeled grapes, but I did say I was feeilng a little like a visiting dignitary with the way my family fussed over Andrew and me.

And of course I was coming back to work and a house I had to clean, groceries to buy and make into meals, a thoroughly dark, bleak and chilly climate, the looming residency application, and much less human interaction. I was exhausted just thinking about it.

The obvious immediate explanations would normally have been enough for me. The kind of mopey mood I was in isn't prone to deep thinking anyway, just self-pity. That's probably why the next part felt like an epiphany; it came out of nowhere.

All that stuff matters, I acknowledged. But looking at this bus, these buildings, this city... that's not helping me either.

Yes! Like I said, it's obvious now. Perhaps I should explain, though; a lot of you haven't known me long enough to know about what's happened to me in Manchester, and it'll do me some good to go back to the beginning and look at the big picture, because I think that's where the epiphany came from.

From the start, I was guaranteed to feel like I didn't belong in Manchester.

I was still unsure what to think about internet relationships and wasn't particularly comfortable having to own up to the impact this one was having on my life, even when it became unavoidable. It was nothing to do with Andrew, with the specific relationship, it was just a hanp-up of mine that left me wary of telling my friends that I was seriously planning going to England for the summer and was terrified of telling my parents.

My friends, who knew more (thanks to my first friends-locked entry, and probably still the one with the highest comment-count), were largely supportive and willing to trust my judgment. My parents amazed me with how well they took it, helping me get my passport sorted out and everything. It was wonderful; I would've had a much harder time (and possibly not done this at all) without their encouragement... but even so, it was clear to me that two paths were diverging in a wood and I, I was opting to jump in the lake instead. I was quickly out of my depth.

So far I hadn't really exercised any choice in my life. I'd been in school since I was three. I was supposed to be getting near the end but the horizon was gloomy: by the point where I met Andrew, I was supposed to be in the last semester of my undergrad career, but by that point I knew that even if I did well that semester, I would not be graduating. For the previous year or so, my academic career and my extracurricular life had been competing to see which could crash and burn more extravagantly, which was the cause and which the effect of my problems with the other.

It might look now like I decided that I may as well be slaughtered for a sheep as a lamb, opting out of the expected life trajectory before it could kick me off, but in truth I was not that brave. I just wanted someone to take care of me. My friends were increasingly busy, my family were increasingly distant, and Andrew was just there when I needed someone. I've said before that I think this is crucial: I don't think I would've entertained his suggestion of visiting him at all if not for the dire and, in some ways, vulnerable state I found myself in.

No wonder some people were so concerned about me; they didn't know what kind of person I could've ended up with and in that kind of state I might have clung to anyone. Of course I didn't think Andrew was just anyone, but then I would say that wouldn't I? I think experience has proven me correct; while Andrew's certainly not like anyone else I know, that does not seem to be true in the ax-murderer-preying-upon-young-women sort of way.

But I think that hasn't helped me either. I felt, fairly or not, that I had to put on a good face about it. I had to be happy because I wanted to redeem my decision. And while there's a good deal of genuine happiness, I found myself getting a little defensive publicly and thus letting frustrations fester quietly inside.

Anyway, the point is that I first got to Manchester in what would have been an uncomfortable point in my life even if I hadn't flown away to another country to stay with someone I hadn't met before. I was one of those smart kids who felt the rug pulled out from under me when things stopped being effortless and flawless, and I was still reeling from that when I got here, not to mention nearly being run over by looking the wrong way when crossing the street.

Not that I had to cross many streets. We didn't do much. Andrew had no job and I certainly didn't have any money, so there was lots of listening-to-records and internet time. Every other Wednesday (I think it was Wednesday) Andrew would buy a new Cerebus phonebook and make me go see a bad movie just because we couldn't find anything better to do. He basically lived his life as he had before; meanwhile I was reeling from the unexpected way my own life was going, still watching my life — that life, anyway — slide out of view, and didn't mind the lack of excitement too much. If I wanted excitement, there was the strange local cuisine.

Summer ended and I stayed, now having given up even the pretense of returning for fall semester. I never really thought I would — I was out of money, I didn't know what I would do, my friends were mostly gone from Morris for good — but I felt even more illegitimate being in Manchester then. I wasn't studying, or working. I wasn't even your proper kind of irresponsible-early-twenties-world-traveler because I had no money and nowhere else to go.

I feel like I grew up inside a snow globe: calm, quiet (boring) and of course snowy. Having run away from that, I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere. I didn't want to go back there, but i couldn't stay here.

I had to go back, and in some ways I was glad to, though I felt bad about that because it was an unmitigated disaster for Andrew. It was complex for me but simple for him because his life was exactly the same except without me in it. Mine was now irrevocably complicated; it wouldn't ever be the same again. But I was right that I didn't belong there either, and after failed attempts at jobs and relationships in Minnesota I found myself wanting to go back to England*. So I did.

Things were better in some ways: Andrew had a job, I met irrtum and belladonnalin and spinningtoofast and showmehowyou and demiurgician and sablin1975 and did the Cornerhouse pub quiz and karaoke at a pub full of toothless middle-aged drunks.

But we still lived in a horrible flat and I was very consciuos of not being able to work or go to school or do anything respectable with myself. Andrew and I had been engaged and not and then again without me feeling able to tell my parents about it and that didn't seem right to me.. I was sick of all this and just wanted to be normal.

Eventually I told my parents I was engaged (they said "Congratulations, and we're not surprised at this point") and went back to America again and started to plan the wedding. As tedious as most of the details were, the familiar accoutrements of weddings made me feel comfortingly aboveboard, proper, legitimate, respectable, all the things my life had been lacking lately. While I was anxious about my parents dealing with me emigrating 4000 miles away, I was starting to feel really good, not just happy but settled for the first time in years.

And then Chris died and the bottom fell out of the world and so I came back to Manchester in a worse state than ever. The combined effects of my brother's funeral, my wedding, emigrating, and having to move house within a week of getting here because the bad flat had gotten so much worse left me almost literally unable to do anything more than stare at the walls for the first several months I was here. I don't even remember them.

We didn't get a honeymoon, we didn't even get much sex because my brain and body just weren't up to it... to the frustration and disappiontment of both of us. So I was back to feeling like I wasn't quite doing this right. Stress kept piling up: money troubles consumed me and left me in tears on a fairly regular basis, and my continuing inability to even look for a job properly didn't help that.

It's all Manchester. All of that stuff happened here. And sometimes it seems like not much else has happened here, certainly not enough to cancel out all that rubbish.

I'm so jealous of people who live here and like it, because I just don't get that.

Andrew does, because he grew up close enough to Manchester for it to represent excitment and escape when he was growing up, and then he went to university here so it has all the delicious connotations of being a student too. To my other friends it represents all kinds of exciting studenty and partnery goodness too. Some of them might even have been 24 hour party people.

Of course I have a partner in Manchester too, but one who seems content to still stay in with music and internet and while he says he loves, as we did on Monday, being able to spontaneously decide to go out for a curry and to see a play (An Ideal Husband at the Royal Exchange! go! it's brilliant, especially if you're sitting on the stage floor as we were). But we never do that. We can't even remember the last play we saw before that. Of course there are all kinds of reasons, work and money and time and everything, but still.

I miss my tractors, is all I'm sayin', and my stars in the night sky.

But I'm stuck here so I'm trying to be good. I'm envious of, say, ecdysiasm's excitement — and many photos! — of her new city. It feels too late to do that sort of thing myself, now that I'm old and jaded and have been here two years (properly, not even counting the weirdo nearly-a-year-cumulative before I was married) but of course part of me does recognize how silly that is. It's because of these two years that I need exactly that sort of appreciation of the place now.

Suggestions welcome.

* Looking at the comments, I can't help missing tubewalker all the more.

Comments

[auntysarah.livejournal.com]

Not sure what to suggest, but wanted to thank you for writing such a thoughtful and interesting entry, and to say that if anyone can find comfort in a situation, it's the sort of person who can pull off an intercontinental move like yours.

*hugs*

[cosmolinguist]

Well, suggestions aren't required. :)

This is very sweet of you to say, and very cheering. Thank you. ::hugs::

[angeoverhere.livejournal.com]

Wow. I knew you'd moved here to be with A, and that things had been tough, but not so much of the background. Moving where your home is is always hard, nevermind coming so very far combined with such big life changes.

I wanted to say that I get your feeling of 'not quite fitting' with Manchester - not about Manc, which I do like, but I've had that feeling about other cities, having moved around a lot in the UK since leaving home. I do think cities have quite strong personalities, which sometimes you just click with, and sometimes you don't, and sometimes it takes a while to tune into. Considering how different it is here, and how isolated you've been, it's not surprising you still find it tough.

In terms of 'getting' Manchester better, I've done a lot of that through wandering round the place and taking pictures as I go. You can see some of them if you go back through my journal under the tag 'pics on the move'. I've also posted and written about some at angeoverthere, or you can see the gallery here (http://pics.livejournal.com/angeoverhere/).

[cosmolinguist]

Wow. I knew you'd moved here to be with A, and that things had been tough, but not so much of the background.

I consider that a triumph, really, as I do try not to trot out all this ugly rubbish at parties. :) I'm not always successful. Even when I'm not drinking, so I can't blame alcohol.

Though even I hadn't thought about all this with such a full-on intensity in a long time (or possibly ever, since there is an element of epiphany here even though nothing new has happened). It's good for me to look up at the big picture every now and then, because so much of the context gets lost in the day-to-day around here. I still struggle with depression (and the holidays are a bad time for that of course) so recently I've been considering it a great accomplishment to get the dishes washed. And in that kind of state it's almost dizzying to think about such big swathes of my life, but I think it's good for me.

Beats doing the laundry anyway.

[diffrentcolours]

Wow, it's really sad that you have so many negative associations with Manchester and so few positive ones. I recently described how I feel about Manchester but I didn't manage to come across as enthusiastically and positively as I'd like.

I suspect a lot of my association with Manchester comes from the music - listening to the Stone Roses and Joy Division as a teenager meant that the city has a soundtrack for me, one that's expanded over the years. To this day, I can't help but hum Made of Stone whenever I wander up Tib Street into the Northern Quarter, up to where New Aeon Books used to be with its giant mugs of coffee for a quid.

One thing that really helped when I moved back here after five years of Oxford was being unemployed and having a bike, which gave me the time and freedom just to wander around the city, going places I'd never been as a student, and to get a feel for the distances and relationships between places. Manchester now seems a lot more compact than it did as a student, and also a lot bigger. There are also loads of museums, galleries etc. which I've not taken time to visit yet; one of my plans for 2008 is to see more of the culture that the city has to offer.

[cosmolinguist]

See, I had no awareness of Manchester at all before I met Andrew. I think I could've recognized it as a city in England if I'd heard the name (though this is debatable, not least because there's a "wide spot in the road," a few houses and a bar, that rejoices in the name of Manchester, just near where I grew up; the population is supposedly 60 or so; it's a pretty pitiful town even by rural Minnesota standards). I just had no exposure to Joy Division or any of the music that people here associate with Manchester.

I have wanted a bike for a long time, and the reasons are only increasing. I used to try to do this on foot, but I'm a wuss when the weather's bad and, heh, when is it not. It was a long time before I got even the most basic geography of the smallest bit of the city centre through my head, but when I did I found that, just as you say, I'm both surprised by how close together things are and how much stuff there is there. I do like what I've seen of the museums and so on here (except for stupid Urbis) and hope to do more of that myself.

[taimatsu]

As you say, I do have good assoiations with the place. It's scary thinking about moving there because I have always lived down south, and that's where my 'family' is; but my brothers are both at university up north so they might end up staying, and my dad rather wants to live in the Lake District eventually, so maybe it won't be an issue.

Manchester is never going to feel like your own hometown - it can't, there are things about growing up somewhere which can't be replicated. But you probably could get to like it more. If I actually lived up there I'd plan small trips with you, say once a fortnight, and we could go and explore stuff together. We could probably still do this, just less regularly. What do you think?

[cosmolinguist]

Yes, we talked about doing sightseeing, didn't we? Sounds good to me. I know you're busy when you're here but if/when you can get around to it, I'd definitely love such shenanigans with you: exploring is more fun with someone else anyway.

[mippy.livejournal.com]

I feel the same about London - I miss Manchester, and more so at the moment as things are a bit stressful.

[cosmolinguist]

Come visit! If you can. I know work, moving house, etc. might not make it easy, but if you can manage it it'd be good to see you.

[mippy.livejournal.com]

I wouldn't mind - plus I need to speak to Andrew about Teh Pep.

They do look like phonebooks!

[lurpak.livejournal.com]

It's a real shame you can't feel 'right' in Manchester... I don't suppose there's any way you could move somewhere else? I recognise that sinking feeling you describe very well, though I am luckier than you in that I get that feeling when I go back to my home town (a boring and over-developed commuter town near London). Whenever I travel away from there I can feel my spirits lift again; it's such a strong feeling it's physical; I still feel now all these years after I'd moved away. An ex-boyfriend of mine told me my personality changed - expanded, opened up - when I got away. Where I live now suits me very well, and I am always thankful to have found a place where I feel at home. All this is a long-winded way of saying that I don't know what to suggest, but place is incredibly important.

I can't read that 'wanting to go back to England' post, but I miss Tubewalker too.

[lurpak.livejournal.com]

ach I clicked post too soon... what I wanted to add was that I do feel for you, it's tough when you feel like you're in the wrong place. One good thing I've learned is that you don't have to be in the place you grew up in to feel at home

[cosmolinguist]

That's okay; I clicked post too soon too. :) It's funny that we mentioned tubewalker, because I was thinking of him anyway for a completely different reason: I think his namesake, the tube walks, were born in the same kind of feeling about London that I seem to be having about Manchester, and that he was hoping such a scheme as that would help him overcome the feeling.

I don't know to what extent they worked for him, but I think it's a marvelous idea; twice I have ventured to London specifically for tube walks, and enjoyed them both immensely, both for the sights I saw and the company I was with. They've become a really interesting phenomenon.

Manchester's public transport (to my dismay; I love public transport) does not lend itself to such an undertaking, but I have been wondering if there's something different I could do to similar effect as the tube walks...

[diffrentcolours]

I dunno, I was thinking about tramwalking...

[cosmolinguist]

This has been discussed among the tube walking management (i.e. my friends hoshuteki and miss_newham), actually! They've done trips to Glasgow and Blackpool to walk the tube or trams respectively, and I've long campaigned for them to come to Manchester.

Of course we could do it without their help, too. :) But i would miss miss_newham's tube walk whistle...

(I can't believe editing that comment made it worse! I hope I've fixed all the formatting now. Sheesh.)

[diffrentcolours]

Well, I'd be happy to get the tram up to Eccles and work back down, or maybe just go to the Imperial War Museum North at Salford Quays, since I've not been.

[cosmolinguist]

Sorry; I fixed the link. There seems to be a statute of limitations on how long I think it's worth bothering to hide my angst before it's "timed out" and safe for public viewing. :) As if it were radioactive or something.

As for moving from Manchester, really not likely. Andrew adores it here, and while he has assured me that he'd live anywhere if I wanted to, he clearly wouldn't be happy anywhere else. We've talked briefly, back when we used to have excuse to get the train to places like Mytholmroyd, between here and Leeds, that it'd be nice to live somewhere like that: I loved the village, and it's not far on the train to Manchester from there. But it's not close enough for Andrew, who complains that he wouldn't be able to get home after a gig or something. (Neither of us drive; I'm legally blind and he's dyspraxic (also stubborn and philosophically opposed to cars) so public transport is an issue.

We could move to another city of course, but Andrew's not keen on that either: he thinks none of them are as lively as Manchester except London, which he hates with a broiling passion and which I wouldn't really like to live in, much as I love many of the people I know there.

But who knows. Last summer he came back from his week of summer school at Oxford (he's doing an online course) and asked what I'd think of moving to Cambridge if he got a position at a research institute there, which is what his course tutors were suggesting he try. I said I didn't know anything about Cambridge really but it sounds nice and I'd be happy to try living somewhere else... which dismayed him; he didn't think I'd take so well to the idea. :) Something like that still might happen, we might still end up somewhere else. We even have grandiose plans for possibly living in some other country eventually, so perhaps I should try to appreciate Manchester while it's here.

Part of the reason I'm writing this is to remind myself that it is my personal history that makes me crazy in this city, and not the city itself. If people I like do like living here, then I'm confident there's something to it so I can figure it out and join them in their Mancphilia.

[lurpak.livejournal.com]

that sounds quite positive... it's interesting that Andrew was surprised at your eagerness to try living somewhere else; if it's something he'd consider again in a few years would you feel happy with that while you give Manchester a bit more of a chance? I guess if your move to Manchester coincided with so many other upheavals in your life they were bound to become tangled up with your feelings about the city itself. I've always thought moving to another country is incredibly brave, my mum did it as a young woman without even knowing the language and was homesick for many years. Now she loves it here, but there's always that pull to her home country.

[cosmolinguist]

f it's something he'd consider again in a few years would you feel happy with that while you give Manchester a bit more of a chance?

Might happen even sooner than that; we're not sure. And yes, I'm hoping to behave more like I'm giving Manchester a chance now.

I guess if your move to Manchester coincided with so many other upheavals in your life they were bound to become tangled up with your feelings about the city itself.

I should have just written this sentence instead of all this stuff I'd written here. :)

I've always thought moving to another country is incredibly brave

It certainly can be, but I don't know if it necessarily is; it depends on the circumstances. Like I said, I know what I've done can look brave, but for a long time I felt like it was actually the cowardly way out, because I was going to the only place I knew where someone was willing to look after me as intensively as I needed/wanted. I worried for a long time about my lack of independence and so on, which I know isn't usually associated with intercontinental moves.

[nameandnature]

Cambridge isn't particularly lively, I'd say. Depends on what you mean by lively, but there aren't a whole lot of really amazing nightclubs or suchlike. I'm not a huge live music fan, but I'm dimly aware that there are gig venues (pubs, the Corn Exchange), but nothing like on the scale of Manchester, I'd imagine.

What makes the place for me is the friends I've had since university, since it's one of those cities where people tend to hang around and get jobs after uni. There are lots of clever people here. It's quite pretty too (although very flat).

[cosmolinguist]

Well, we're not amazing nightclub people. :) We're occasional-gig people, and cinema people, and I'm a going for walks in parks person, and I'm SURE these things are possible in other cities.

Since the only city with all my uni friends in it is Minneapolis, MN, such a feature is sadly not an option of any city I'm likely to live in now, and I have at least a few LJ friends in most areas of England so I hope I could manage. :)

Very flat sounds fine to me. I grew up on the edge of the Central Plains, and went to university on the actual prairie. Not far from that is North Dakota, a place my dad says it's so flat you can see the Earth curve.

[mippy.livejournal.com]

'Cerebus phonebook' made me laugh. Which I needed today. Moving continent is a brave, brave thing to do, you know this, don't you?

Can you re-enter academia?

[cosmolinguist]

I'm glad you got your laugh, though it's not intentional! That's what they're called!

I'm sorta in the process of re-entering academia now, finally. I'm taking an OU course, hoping to finish my degree (though not in the thing I started it in, which is a good thing; a poor choice was part of the reason I didn't make it the first time). Finishing my second TMA is one of the things I've been putting off this morning by writing this. :)

[spinningtoofast.livejournal.com]

You might get used to it eventually. My parents literally spent the first 15 years they were in Toronto comparing it unfavourably to Montreal (in everything but the lack of Separatist politicians, obviously). Now, my mom in particular brags to the Montreal family about how great Toronto is.

She still refers to Montreal as "home" and wants to move back someday, but she's happy and comfortable in Toronto now.

Also: you say Andrew hates change (as does James; my Dad claims it's a male trait, but I'm reluctant to gender stereotype). So maybe if you do want to move, he just needs some time to get used to the idea. When I first met James he loathed London, and not just on principle, as many northerners seem to. He had been there as a teenager for music lessons, and found it really intimidating and overwhelming.

A few trips later (with someone who's grown up navigating large cities) - and he loves London! He's all on board moving there! Now, I'm not suggesting you move to London (as you don't appear to have any interest in it), but if you want to move to a village or something in the country, you could take Andrew on frequent trips, and maybe he'll get used to the idea, like James.

[cosmolinguist]

Thanks for the words of encouragement. I don't think I can fix Andrew's problems with villages like you did James's with London, but it's nice to know that even people who fear change can sometimes manage it. :) And I do think in less than 15 years I should have something nice to say about Manchester. Though it shouldn't stop me saying nice things about Minnesota.

Plus, frequent trips to the countryside sounds like a good idea to me in any case! Whether I like it here or not, I do want to go places more, and hopefully once I pay off my residency application fee I should have a little more money and a little more free time to do so.

[xianrex.livejournal.com]

Had you ever lived anywhere else before you emigrated? I'm just wondering if this was the first step away from "home", and it turned out to be a huge one. You'd have double the getting used to, with a change of city, and a change of country. That's rough.

I'm leaning towards reading Cerebus again, btw - I find my thoughts drifting that way recently, and I know that means it's going to be a necessary thing. I'm getting very bored with Scientology texts.

[cosmolinguist]

Except to go to college, no, I hadn't lived anywhere else. And college wasn't much different: I went from a farm to a small town in southern Minnesota to an even-more-isolated (because it was further from Minneapolis — you had to drive further from there to get to Fargo than you have to drive from my house to get to the Twin Cities), and very small, town which was famous for its ethanol plant.

I've often said that growing up on a farm and moving to a large city has been almost as disorienting as any US/UK difference... though it's hard to tell because both kinds are happening at once and it's not always easy to see which are specific to the UK, much less Manchester, and which are things that I wasn't used to because I'm a hick from the sticks.

Andrew's been talking a lot about Dave Sim recently too, though more for this new thing he's apparently doing than Cerebus, though I wouldn't be surprised if I have to hear more stuff about that again too. It does make me a little nostalgic thinking about it, though: the year I met him, his attention was consumed with Dave Sim and Brian Wilson and we had Brian Wilson again last year so I guess I'm due for another bout of his particular... quirks.

I'm sure it'll make a nice change from the Scientologists, though. They say such silly things! Good thing Cerebus doesn't have crazy ideas in it.

[xianrex.livejournal.com]

You said exactly what I meant about not being sure where to pinpoint the disorientation. It's tough, and probably takes longer to recover from. I'm kind of doing that on a small scale, moving to a new state and buying a house.

I just loaded up the bookshelves, and shelving the phonebooks made me think about Cerebus, which made me check http://www.cerebusfangirl.com/update.html, which put me back in that world mentally. So I'm probably going to do a complete read-through, the first since I completed the phonebook collection.

Yeah, I'm swapping one escalating loony for another :) But at least this one can draw and letter with the best of them.

[ecdysiasm.livejournal.com]

Well, I spent my first two years in Portland in one of the worst (and most embarrassing) periods of my life, and when I pulled myself together finally I still managed to fall in love with the city. It wasn't the fresh, clean love I have for Boston, of course, but the nice thing about cities is they're always changing, so there's always a new place to drop anchor. Get out, explore places you've never been just for the sake of checking into them, dig into the history of the spaces you have been. The nice thing about cities is there's just so much to them, you can always make them new.

[cosmolinguist]

That's very sensible of you, and possibly just what I needed to hear. Thank you.

[rainmerlot.livejournal.com]

As you know I don't have much frame of reference since I am living in the same town I grew up in. Although I can imagine feeling just like you are if it were me.

But I enjoyed this post, and it once again reminds me of what an incredible writer you are. I really really think you should find a way to do more of it, get it out there in places other than LJ. There has to be magazines, or online sites that are looking for writers and I can't imagine them turning you down after seeing how you write. I know that means deadlines, but it would also mean getting paid... so that's cool. But I think more people need to get a chance to benefit from your talent. :-)

xo

[cosmolinguist]

Thank you, as always, though even more than usual I have to confess that I am baffled. This entry particularly just seems a recap of a huge number of things that I'm trying to do justice to, but not having the time/space to talk about properly, and still feeling like I've written too much. :) It's just a recap, it's not artistically written or anything and it doesn't have a story to tell. I'm not much good at fiction; I can talk about things that really happened or things I really think, but other than that, I'm pretty hopeless.

I'm not great with deadlines but I'm especially not good at writing about things I don't care about. That was a big problem in college, being given assignments I didn't even understand and not being any good at bullshitting like everybody else seemed to; I actually was incapable of writing if I didn't genuinely have something to say, not because of any principle or anything, but just because I could not think of a single thing to say.

Plus I think just for the moment my life is hectic enough. :) But I know i'll keep hearing people tell me I should be writing, and I'm kind of glad of that (I think at this point I'd miss them if they stopped), though I'm sure there are many writers on the internet who are just as untrained and undisciplined as I am. :)

[scarletts-web.livejournal.com]

I agree that you could be earning money from writing.

Manchester represents escape for me - we moved to Warrington from a tiny town in Cumbria where it felt like everyone hated us for not being locals. Once we got to Warrington, we escaped to Manchester every weekend just so I could see tall buildings, funny people and big, big shops.

Annabel was asking about you the other day. We must arrange something, soon.

[cosmolinguist]

Aw. Hello to Annabel. I was just thinking I haven't seen you lot in about a million years. I'll be less insanely busy/broke by the end of this month and would love to do something with you.

[comradexavier.livejournal.com]

It's never too late to take pictures. I take pictures of the stuff around me all the time, even though it's rarely new. Most of them never make it out of my camera, but—like making an argument aloud helps me understand my thoughts—in framing a picture I often notice details I've never valued before.

[signal-moon.livejournal.com]

Sometimes a city just doesn't wrap you in its arms the way it should. It's a very emotional thing. When I first came to Newcastle I was *in love* with it. I thought it was the most wonderful place. Having lived in small towns and miniscule towns forever, it seemed cosmopolitan and exciting.

But so much and so many things have happened since I came here. Many of them awful.

So now it seems a place to get away from. But you know, for me it's England rather than Newcastle. I don't know what it is about this country, but it drags you down. There are some wonderful things, but they're set against a backdrop of drearyness, of cynicism, of dull weather and jaded people. Or maybe that's just me? :)

I have tractors next door! And a field behind the house! I'll be posting pictured soon as I move next week.

[cosmolinguist]

You seemed to speak quite well of Newcastle when I was planning to visit it (which I still am! how are you for February?), and I am still excited to see it.

Especially if I can also see the tractor next door to you. :)

I guess you have special reason now to feel restless in England too. I remember feeling that way when I had been to visit Andrew and had to go back: it was just that uneasy feeling of not belonging where I thought I did. It didn't even matter if I liked it or not; it wasn't about liking, but just about what felt right.

I think there's a lot to appreciate about England, too, but I don't think it's just you: certainly not on the dreary weather and all. It'll take me a while to get sick of cynicism, having come from a country where everybody is always earnest, but I easily tire of jaded people.

Probably because I'm the sort of person who goes around being excited about tractors.

[signal-moon.livejournal.com]

Don't get me wrong - Newcastle is probably one of the best cities I've been in. As you'll see when you visit. But I'm ready to move on. Or maybe it's just a phase I'm going through because of the relationship - detaching myself from one place and ready to move to another? It's one thing to take vacations together, but another when when you are finally able to be together and you spend some time in your partners daily life. Going home doesn't feel like home anymore.

February I am busy every weekend *except* the 16/17th if you want to try a weekend? Midweek is fine anytime except the first and last weeks - when I am with Tracy both times. In fact, Tracy is here on the 1st weekend in February if you want a day trip on the Saturday?

let me know.

PS tractors rule.

[ulffriend.livejournal.com]

I thought hard about responding given that I've come in so late, but you struck a chord with me and my relationship to Atlanta, so:

I fell in love with the city where I did my undergraduate work (Chattanooga, TN) and stayed for about 10 years, leaving only when my first marriage broke up (I left everything but my books and my dog) and I had to move back with my parents to rebuild some financial resources. I love that city and consider it "home", and had ALWAYS planned to move back after graduate school.

Enter Jeff, who was going to school in Atlanta. I did some internships here, thinking that I was getting wonderful experience. We moved in together, I finished my masters and was anticipating that he'd finish his bachelors and we'd leave. Then he told me that it was his intention to stay and that if I wanted to be with him I would do it in Atlanta.

Now none of the horrible things that happened to you in Manchester happened to me (although there were some bad times: my parents divorced after 32 years, Jeff and I fought almost continually for the first year we lived together), but I didn't like Atlanta at all. It was the anti-Chattanooga for me, and I hated it. And I kept right on hating it for years. We never DID any of the things that were here (Jeff's reason for wanting to stay), everything was expensive, traffic was bad, smog was terrible, etc etc ad nauseum.

One day, I woke up and realized that I considered myself an Atlantan. I have no idea when that happened, and it doesn't mean that I love the place. But I now have enough history here that it feels like a place that I belong even if I don't love it, if that makes sense. I know it's ins and outs, where to go for what, have seen things begin and end.

Chattanooga is still "home", and Jeff has become convinced that it would be a great place to live so there's a good chance that we'll retire there (years away, I know, but you have to plan). Friends came slowly, but they came. I found nooks and crannies that I've come to love, like Kennesaw Mountain.

Bottom line, it can get better, sometimes without you realizing that it's happening. But that doesn't mean that a run to Cambridge might not be a bad idea just to see what it's like.

[cosmolinguist]

I'm glad you did respond, and hope to put your mind at ease and keep you from agonizing again: I'm happy to read responses — and such thoughtful and interesting ones as yours are my favorite — whenever they arrive. I get e-mails about them no matter what, and still get the occasional comment on years-old entries.

It's one of the nice things about keeping a journal on the internet: the pages don't yellow, the ink doesn't fade, the words seem no more irrelevant than the post-its I write today.

Thanks so much for telling me your story. It hit me close to home (so to speak :)), especially things like "We never DID any of the things that were here (Jeff's reason for wanting to stay)"... which I could have written exactly. Andrew goes on about Manchester's gigs, plays, museums, etc.etc. but spends all his time off at home in front of the internet. Which, surely, he could do anywhere... I know the idea of being able to get out and do things if he wants to is very important to him, but it's hard to feel like I've sacrificed everything — everyone, everywhere, every tangible thing except him — that I know and love for "just the idea."

I'm glad your story ends hopefully, with Jeff liking the place you consider "home" so at least you can look forward a bit to the prospect of a future there. "Home" seems the best place to retire to. :)

And this too:

I now have enough history here that it feels like a place that I belong even if I don't love it, if that makes sense.

It makes a lot of sense to me. I think I'm starting to feel a little like that myself. Not too much, but it does occur to me sometimes that if things like my bus route to work are familiar enough to be boring, they're familiar enough for me to miss them when I'm away from them and I wouldn't be at all surprised to be sentimental about them when/if I move away from Manchester.

I think it is getting better, at least a little, without me realizing its happening (that seems to be how I do things these days, without realizing!), and I have every confidence that as I spend more time with the friends I'm making here, as I am more able to afford trips to see my family and friends and hopefully getting them over here too, I will get better quicker.

I'm optimistic, anyway, even if it doesn't sound that way from what I wrote here. :) Maybe I'm just in a slightly better mood than I was a few days ago when I wrote this, I don't know. Whatever the reason, I'll take my cheerfulness where I can find it.