five years ago today, i landed at heathrow airport, to begin what i did not know would be a new life.

each year as i reflect on my u.k. anniversary, i’m struck by how my perspective has changed from the years before. this relationship is a complicated, ever-evolving bond, that confuses even myself at times with its fluctuations and intensity. surprises me with how i can hold both love and disdain for my adopted/adoptive country in the same hand. how i can feel both tenderly protective, and angry. how i can feel grateful for some aspects and disgusted by others.

stopping to think about it, however, i guess i shouldn’t be so surprised. it is, after all, much the same way i feel about america.

and now we have plans to leave. shed this cramped city like a too tight skin. i think about leaving a lot lately, and it brings a quick lump to my throat. i’ve always known this would not be somewhere i would live forever, even as i wanted so desperately to become a permanent part of it. as eager as i am to move on, there is so much i am loathe to say goodbye to – family, friends, identity and lifestyle. the tension of being pulled apart by so many contradictory feelings is overwhelming and heartrending at times. yanking up roots is sometimes necessary, but always painful.

because if there’s anything i’ve learned since getting off the plane back in 2003, it’s that it’s impossible to leave home without leaving some part of yourself behind.

arriving at this place was damn hard.

but leaving will be even harder still.

foo fighters – home

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it’s officially spring – which means after a winter’s worth of hibernation, it’s time to come out from under the squashy layer of padding i seem to have accumulated, dust off the shoes, and go for a run.

i haven’t run a single step since last november. and yet, it was like my body slid right back into the rhythm it’s been carrying on for more than 22 years. at various times i’ve tried running faster, picking up my pace… but i always come back to this, the same beat tattooed into the pavement. over and over again, run after run after run. it’s as soothing and constant as a pulse. my legs and lungs instinctively know exactly what to do, even if they’re not particularly happy about it. it’s automatic, mechanical and steady, freeing up my mind to think or listen or just rest.

i’ve never been good at sitting still, so running is my meditation in motion. something about the ritualistic nature of running loosens my brain, allowing things to bubble to the surface. and on my best runs, a distinctive calm pervades – a state of being i don’t naturally find easy to come by. how ironic that it’s the force of movement which brings about that stillness.

that might just be what i like most about it. the simultaneous combination of generating kinetic energy and internal quietude.

and in spite of the rusty joints and extra jiggling of today’s run, it felt good.

beastie boys – body movin’

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Spring comes on the World –
I sight the Aprils –
Hueless to me until thou come
As, till the Bee
Blossoms stand negative,
Touched to Conditions
By a Hum.

– “spring comes on the world”, emily dickinson

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the british psychological society has determined, in its delayed inifinite wisdom, that my b.a. degree from new york university, does not meet their criteria. this is because they clearly can’t count.** they have, however, offered me the opportunity to withdraw my application and refund my £100.

i guess i’m supposed to be grateful,*** but it feels like a fucking slap in the face. part of me wants to scream and appeal even if it does cost £100, just for the sake of my tattered pride.

**the bps criteria are that the degree must be made up of at least 50% psychology. nyu’s b.a. required completion of 128 credits, 68 of which have to be in your declared major (psychology). however they only counted 55 credits out of 135 credits??!? not to mention the extra psychology credits from mcgill which nyu wouldn’t even transfer (the rule being that you must complete more than half your major credits at their university).

*** now that our plans have changed and i won’t be attending grad school here anyway

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he took apart the dehumdifier today to try to fix it.

it didn’t work. but he did try, bless.

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happy easter!

to help celebrate the holiday, i give you: the ultimate peep show.

the washington post has a whole “peep show” of peep art which is hilarious – check it out here.

jesus and mary chain – some candy talking

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yesterday was the vernal equinox – that point at which the balance between night and day begins to swing back in my favour, the dark recedes and the fullness of light and everything it brings, is elevated.

the world has already begun regreening itself in these parts. there is a freshness emerging that pierces the air and hits the back of your lungs with an invigorating sting.

watching the dormant spring back to life never fails to astonish me, even as i eagerly anticipate it every year. it’s incredible to think about the complex biochemical processes which occur, deep inside the seemingly-moribund and near-extinct, bringing forth a flourish of renewal and growth from the brink of death. all because the sun returns just in the nick of time.

these past few weeks have been hard – i’ve felt like some vital organ was withering and hardening inside me, forming a thick, bitter crust. i’ve been waiting to turn a corner, waiting for a weight to shift – needing a change in some inner balance to bring the pendulum back into rhythm.

the easter holiday signifies rebirth for many. and while i no longer celebrate the story which inspires it, i will participate in spirit when i plant my tiny seeds and my tiny hopes in my carefully tended flowerbox this weekend, and anxiously await rebirth in the form of tomatoes.

a miracle if there ever was one.

ryan adams – so alive

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three months late, but just when i need it most… my christmas cactus is rioting.

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just wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

i’m pretty sure kurt would be turning over in his grave.

why are the best parts of my youthful nostalgia always co-opted by the titans of crass commercialism?

seems like all my fondest adolescent memories are destined to refashioned as disposable, faddish tat marketed towards today’s “tweenies” who believe they were born to be the arbiters of cool.

this must be what it feels like to get old.

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I’ve been feeling a bit guilty lately about supporting Obama over Hillary in the presidential campaign. In fact, in many ways, i feel like a bit of a traitor.

I mean, I know why I like Obama better (I have this silly thing about voting for someone I can actually believe in, and for me Hillary’s vote for the war was indefensible). I’ve written here before about the thought process which ultimately decided who got my vote.

But I cannot ignore this feeling that I’m somehow letting down the side. Undermining the all-important work and sacrific of generations of feminists before me which *got us* to this pivotal and incredibly symbollic point. And the unvoiced fears of what happens if Hillary doesn’t win – the fear that her loss will be used to corroborate every naysayers argument that ever was.

The country just wasn’t ready for it. Back to the drawing board. Try again in another 50 years.

If Hillary doesn’t win, when will we next have a *real* contender for first woman President of the US? Hillary has become (you should pardon the tongue-in-cheek expression) our “great white hope”.

I heard a podcast the other day which postulated that younger women who are supporting Obama are only doing so because they want so desperately to believe we live in a gender-neutral la-la-land, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Now I’m certainly not naive enough to believe that the political world I live in is genderless. But the inescapable fact remains: I don’t want to vote based on gender identity. As someone else I know put it, “I resent having to stop every time I’m annoyed with [Hillary] to examine my feelings and make certain I’m not buying in to some repressed, societal sexism.”

And more to the point, I don’t want to vote for Hillary because she’s a woman, for the same reason I don’t want people to vote *against* Hillary because she’s a woman. If I truly believe her gender shouldn’t be a factor for those who would vote against a woman for President, then I have to believe it shouldn’t be a factor for me. In other words, if I vote based on gender, I am not only acknowledging that gender bias exists (because of course it does), but also validating it by giving it more merit than other, much more important factors.

That’s not naivete. I simply don’t think you get where you want to go by pointing yourself in the wrong direction.

And I’d like to believe that the ultimate goal of feminism is about women having all choices available to them in equal measure.

I’m grateful for the choice to have a female candidate, and I will continue to fight for the right to ensure that choice continues.

But given the choice? I choose Obama.

wilco – side with the seeds

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i never thought i’d be jealous of will ferrell…

i love dave grohl.

i do not, however, love the jesus freak look he’s sporting lately.

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amity just texted me to tell me my favourite movie, E.T. is on television. which is rather apt because i just got off the phone with my sister.

Back in 1982 when I was 9 and my sister was 4, my parents took us on a cross-country camping trip for our summer holiday. We went camping for 3 months, from Massachusetts to California and back. And while as an adult, I am ever-so-grateful to have had that experience, at the time, I was pretty annoyed – as any nine year old who had to spend the summer doing “educational” things would be.

So then, we got back from camping, and went back to class in the autumn, my friends were all asking, “Have you seen E.T., have you seen E.T.??!!” Because seeing E.T. was apparently *the* only important thing to do that summer, and it was one of the first summer blockbusters ever. I, being stuck in a tent for 12 weeks, had missed out on THE seminal cultural experience for my peergroup.

And since videos didn’t even really catch on for several more years, I didn’t actually see it until I was about 15. My sister and I finally saw it for the first time together… and, being 10, she cried. And I just can’t bear seeing her upset, I’ve never been able to stand seeing her in pain – when my little sister cries, I cry reflexively. So I cried, she cried more, which made me cry even harder…

She and I continue to cry every time we see it, in a kind of unspoken empathic response – much like the one that exists between elliot and e.t. in the movie. When it was re-released in 2002 for the 20th anniversary, we went to the movie theatre together to watch it on the big screen for the very first time. Within minutes of the opening credits, at the scene where E.T. gets left behind by his spaceship, I glanced over and saw her chin beginning to tremble in the darkness, and that was it – we both ended up sobbing our way through the entire movie.

And since my move to the UK, it has become a kind of symbollic metaphor for our relationship – my needing to leave, her wanting me to stay, the bond that exists at the core of us making parting deeply painful, but our lives inexorably drawing us in different directions. she is my elliot, and i am her e.t. and just as in the climactic scene of the movie, when e.t. says “come”, and elliot says “stay”, no matter how far away i may go, i need only remind her that “i’ll be right here”.

And that’s why I love E.T., and why i can’t help but cry every time i see it – as I am doing now. because my sister is so very important to me, and because it always makes me think of how very much I love (and miss) my sister.

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courtesy of my mother, if this doesn’t improve my disposition, nothing will:

that’s a seriously hefty amount of candy – and i didn’t even manage to get the chocolate covered pretzles and sugar packets (yes, my family sends me sugar packets!) in the photo.

sugar – if i can’t change your mind

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this week is finally over, thank the sweet lord. thursday was pretty much sheer hell. i’ve been waiting what-feels-like-forever to turn a corner on this streak of crummy luck, trying to be patient and as optimistic as possible. that doesn’t, unfortunately, make for very interesting blogging.

however, amity has tagged me – so to go along with my renewed effort to be more positive, here’s a meme.

Five things I do for myself:

1. listen to zen podcasts
2. run (which i need to start doing again)
3. spend time with friends
4. buy whimsical socks
5. write here

Five things I do for my husband:

1. make him coffee every morning
2. cook him dinner every night
3. buy him socks
4. take his glasses off when he falls asleep
5. kiss the back of his neck frequently

Five things I have done for a stranger:

1. paid the toll for a car behind me
2. stayed with someone after an accident
3. called for help for someone who was passed out
4. let someone go ahead of me in a queue
5. stood up for someone who was being bullied

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the screaming title of the article on the free rag passed out as you enter the tube?

“l.a. gangs come to london”

the actual article: (see if you can spot the ridiculous leap of logic!)

America’s terrifying gang problems are coming to the streets of London, the Home Secretary warned today.

Jacqui Smith admitted there is increasing evidence that hoodies are wearing “colours” to show allegiance – just like rival LA gangs The Crips and The Bloods.

And rivals are shooting and stabbing each other for simply straying into a postcode which is another gang’s terrority, usually marked out either by graffiti or by hanging trainers stolen from mugging victims from telephone wires.

Smith said: “Some elements of gang culture tend to come from the States. We have seen the development of things like the use of tags, the use of colours. Those are all things we need to address.”

The Bloods and the Crips, which boast more than 30,000 members each, have terrorised LA for more than 35 years.

Hundreds have been murdered in tit-for-tat killings, with many being killed for nothing more than wearing the wrong colour T-shirt.

Smith also warned parents that the age of gangsters involved in violence in London is dropping, meaning families must keep a better eye on where their children are and what they are up to.

But one former London gang member dismissed the Home Secretary’s claims – by saying the problem facing the capital is even worse that America.

Ex-Hackney gangster Darrell James, 35, said: “Kids in London aren’t mimicking LA gangsters – they are even worse here than there. You can’t mimic something you have never seen. In LA, gangsters are 21 but in London it’s much younger.

“The whole system has broken down. The family is broken and the schools are broken so the kids have nowhere else to go except onto the streets.”

…snip…

(emphasis mine)

umm, okay. the fact that some gang members are starting to wear the same colour hoodies does *not* mean that london has been invaded by the crips and the bloods, and we are in for all out gang warfare, as the article would have you believe.

also: anyone who actually believes that gang violence in london is worse than south central l.a. is off their fucking head and clearly has not a single shred of credibility.

why do i even look at these stupid things? they just rile me up and they aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.

sensationalistic fearmongering directed at people who don’t know how read critically.

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“it never rains but it pours.”

it’s been pouring here today. more than pouring – a violent lashing rain blowing under doorjambs, around window seals, down chimneys. a watery invasion, leaking in from around edges i wasn’t even aware of. this is marching in like a lion to be sure.

and it’s been pouring here as well. the list of things going wrong in the past few weeks continues to mount. a $1500 cheque is offically lost by my bank. the doctor who was supposed to refer me to another doctor, hasn’t – i have to go back to my gp and start again. the british psychological society still hasn’t evaluated my degree, and now that i’ve changed my plans i can’t get back the £100 i paid. work has, unbelievably, managed to get even worse, with no glimmer of any opportunities on the horizon. and this morning i awoke to the flat seeping water from all sides.

and me, helpless to stop it.

i know that these things arrive with a thunderclap and cloudburst. that sometimes life just sweeps you off your feet in an flash flood of problems, and there’s nothing to be done but to ride it out, surrender any illusions of control. and that eventually the storms will recede, and i will forget the sensation of drowning until the next time.

but today, i found myself caught in a downpour – soaked to the bone, face lifted in abject surrender to the sky, shivering and cursing the heavens.

jose gonzales – storm

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when i read news like this, i just can’t wait to leave this country. and i won’t be flying BA again, that’s for sure.

treating immigrants like potential criminals is one thing. treating citizens travelling within their own country as criminals is quite another.

what’s next, a dna sample to book tickets?

Millions of British airline passengers face mandatory fingerprinting before being allowed to board flights when Heathrow’s Terminal 5 opens later this month.

For the first time at any airport, the biometric checks will apply to all domestic passengers leaving the terminal, which will handle all British Airways flights to and from Heathrow.

The controversial security measure is also set to be introduced at Gatwick, Manchester and Heathrow’s Terminal 1, and many airline industry insiders believe fingerprinting could become universal at all UK airports within a few years.

All four million domestic passengers who will pass through Terminal 5 annually after it opens on March 27 will have four fingerprints taken, as well as being photographed, when they check in.

To ensure the passenger boarding the aircraft is the same person, the fingerprinting process will be repeated just before they board the aircraft and the photograph will be compared with their face.

BAA, the company which owns Heathrow, insists the biometric information will be destroyed after 24 hours and will not be passed on to the police.

It says the move is necessary to prevent criminals, terrorists and illegal immigrants trying to bypass border controls.

…snip…

Although fingerprinting is carried out at some foreign airports – most notably in the US – as part of immigration checks for international arrivals, Heathrow will be the first to fingerprint domestic passengers before they board their flights.

Even if domestic passengers have a passport with them, they will still have to go through the biometric checks.

Dr Gus Hosein, of the London School of Economics, an expert on the impact on technology on civil liberties, is one of the scheme’s strongest critics.

He said: “There is no other country in the world that requires passengers travelling on internal flights to be fingerprinted. BAA says the fingerprint data will be destroyed, but the records of who has travelled within the country will not be, and it will provide a rich source of data for the police and intelligence agencies.

“I grew up in a society where you only fingerprinted people if you suspected them of being criminals. By doing this they will make innocent people feel like criminals.

“There will also be a suspicion that this is the thin end of the wedge, that we are being softened up by making fingerprinting seem normal in the run-up to things like ID cards.”

…snip…

Officials began talks with the aviation industry within months of an alleged plot to blow up transatlantic airlines in August 2006.

At the time, the Home Office refused to rule out the use of fingerprint and biometric checks as part of routine embarkation controls, and some industry insiders believe universal fingerprinting may be brought in when biometric passports are introduced in 2012.

One option could be to routinely check fingerprints against the criminal record database – a step which is currently only taken when immigration officers have a reason to be suspicious.

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things which arrived in the post for zeke this week:

- 4 boxes premium cat litter (unavailable in regular pet stores)

- a new litter box

- a laser pointer toy

- a radiator bed for our bedroom (he already has one in the lounge)

y’know, when i write it all out like that, it *does* seem a little ridiculous…

though to be fair, the laser pointer is probably more for our entertainment than his

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off to a meeting in kingston this afternoon, i headed into the tube station at vauxhall. i’d just missed a train so the platform was empty and i sat on the bench to wait. i had my ipod firmly plugged into my ears and was just zoning out when out of the corner of my eye i saw this guy walk slowly and unevenly down the platform. he walked with the sort of weaving unsteady gait and contracted body posture that some people with cerebral palsy have, and on a second glance, he also had the unbalanced look in his eyes of someone with mental health problems – a look i’ve seen often enough living in big cities and working in social services, but have come to dismiss as a sadly common part of urban daily life.

he came and sat down on the bench next to me – near enough, but not uncomfortably close, hovering only at the periphery of my awareness. he had a newspaper and pen, and after sitting for a few moments started scribbling in an unsteady hand.

the wind picked up as the train approached from the depths of the tunnel. i began to sling my bag across my shoulder and prepare to stand.

he nudged me gently with his elbow, and i turned to give him a quizzical look. he nodded at me with a small smile as the train squealed to a stop and the doors opened spilling out people.

with a tremorous finger he pointed to something he’d written shakily in the margins of the newspaper. it was written so shakily that i had to look closely to read it, as he reached his hand inside the lining of his jacket.

and then i was flying down the platform, running as fast as i could, ricocheting off the crowds of people to the furthest train car, leaping aboard just as the doors slammed close, and tripping down the aisles over bags and legs til i could go no further and my legs gave way dumping me into the nearest seat, my body overcome with shaking, my lungs gasping for air.

it was only then that my brain finally caught up with my racing heart and registered what it had seen written there in blue scrawled ink:

“i will shoot you.”

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ah, currently watching the twins trounce the yankees in a spring training game.

opening day for my

is only 20 days away!

that makes me inordinately happy

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i got into work today and wrote this email to jonno:

From: J
Sent: 4 March 2008 10:00
To: J
Subject: okay then

let’s go. i can’t take it any more. i’m tired of commutes where i can’t even get on the train. i’m tired of stepping over piles of vomit. i’m tired of the incredible passivity. i’m tired of inept public services. i’m tired of the invasion of privacy. i’m tired of the incredible expense.

let’s go. let’s get out of here as soon as possible. let’s go tomorrow.

and so we’re going. we’ve decided that it’s full steam ahead with the plans to leave.

it feels good to have made a decision, to finally have a direction.

i feel like i’m breaking free of a giant weight.

shout out louds – tonight i have to leave it

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