And the hunt is on....

Or at least, the hunt is ongoing. As you all know, from before I even landed in Miami, I have been hunting up job leads and posting updated resumes on all the leading sites. I think there is nothing so tiring as the job hunt - looking through jobs, trying to assess your chances, and sending of emails and envelopes stuffed full of resumes and fudged truths. Why you're excited to work for that particular company, how you're a perfect fit for the role described (well, it is truth but then again, I am sure that I am a perfect candidate for many roles described on job search websites).

What seems even more tiring is that this is the third time in less than two years that I am doing this. Once before moving to England, once more when trying to score a job that would possibly afford me a work visa for London, and then again now that I have camped out in the States for a limited time period. But there is a difference: when I was searching in England, I was selective. I was looking for a career, not just a job. I had planned (and still plan) to live out the rest of my life in London and so I wanted something that had potential for advancement, was educational, and something I could also excel at. Here, I know that this is a limited time offer - the whole idea of living and working in the States - and so I am applying for jobs. Something where my skills are needed and suited, potentially with the chance to become trained in an area I am not familiar with, but in the long run, just something to make enough money to move back to London with.

All of this to say, my plans have not changed. In the past two weeks I have been here, I have realized that I don't seem to gel well with an American state of mind. I am an anglophile through and through. Which also means that I have started considering options I had not before and am applying every which way, just hoping to land a job sooner rather than later. In the end, I am not sure where this hunt will lead me. I have gotten letters of interest from Chicago (Illinois) and Madison (Wisconsin) and sent off replies. To be honest, I have lived in the Midwest before and the chance to see some proper snow would be great. I have got family (that might be a little easier to live with - see previous blog) relocating to Atlanta and I have started job hunting there. Just in case something comes up and there are more research companies in Atlanta.

So keep your fingers crossed. I would try to, but I am so busy personalizing my cover letters and sending out resumes that my fingers are just flying over the keyboard.

Regressing, Not Progressing

Less than two weeks and I am already frustrated. I think there is something to be said about living at home; you just feel like you've never grown up and you're still the little girl (or boy) that your parents remember. The only thing is - I'm looking down the barrel at thirty, not thirteen - so that fact that I get annoyed like I am in high school does not really work for me right now. I don't think it works for anyone once they are actually past high school.

And I would like to think that maybe I would not be so frustrated if I had not spent the last nine years living on my own, but I know of friends who have never lived outside of the familial abode and they seem to get as annoyed with their parents as I do with mine. Maybe it is just a thing that families do; maybe parents can never see you as anything more than their little son or daughter, no matter what you accomplish, where you go, or how much older you grow.

And sure, there is something bewitching about the idea of never being considered a youngster still, especially when you look into the mirror and see all those signs that say you are well past being carded. But at the same time, I am proud of all the things I have done. I have studied hard and gained a solid education; I have gone out there and scored a great job; when circumstances have not been the best, I have tried my hardest to be as independent as possible and not come crying back to mum and dad. And while it is good to know they are there for me, it would not kill them to maybe acknowledge that I have managed to make something of my life for all the years I have been living it.

What it all comes down to, in the end, might be that simple. When you're living with your parents, you can't help but feel that you really have not made anything of your life. Nothing seems to really have changed since you were a kid and coming to them for money, advice, etc. And if you're feeling like nothing has changed; that you're still stuck in the same place, it might be nice to have someone tell you differently instead of reinforcing the same downward spiral of thoughts...

Back in the Saddle

Well, I tackled another challenge today; namely, I got in a car and drove again - in Miami traffic - for the first time in two years. And to be honest, getting behind the wheel of my mum's car was like riding a bicycle again. Something I had not forgotten, only I thought I had. Hell, I even had some worries that I might try to drive on the wrong side of the road or maybe even take a left turn on red. But no worries. I got to where I was going and home safely, listening to music with bass (this is Miami after all) all the way there and back. Sometimes it really is amazing how easily you can fall back into a way of life you thought you had left behind.


In its own way, sometimes picking up where you left off is a good thing. Following from the last post, one of the reasons I was out and about tonight was the chance to finally see my best friend again (yes, the stunningly gorgeous girl to the left of this post). I would not be lying to say that this girl knows me better than I sometimes know myself. And like the good friend she is, she has never been afraid to tell me exactly what is on her mind. And vice versa. She has been there through my heart aches and my luck in love, through ups and downs, and sometimes in just the in-between parts of life. The boring bits that only people who know you well are there for.

When I lived across the country, she and I would sometimes talk seven times a day just because we could or talk for hours at a time, sitting on the phone in silence - doing what we needed to but glad for the companionship. She is the only person I have ever watched a football game with cross country (and had a better time than at most bowl parties I have had the privilege to attend). When she lived in England and I was here, we talked when we could and I was one of the first person to be called when momentous things happened: job, life, love. Whatever was important at the time - no matter the cost or the time. And when I was living in England and roles were reversed, she was the one person that significant relationships knew they had to please in order to be someone I could consider a serious contender. Her stamp of approval is like the stickers they put in clothes: "inspected and passed by C"

All of this to say that some friendships truly do make life. This girl is the person I turned to and really ranted about my life about six months ago, and I could actually open up and share with someone exactly how much things were affecting me, without feeling like I might be burdening them unnecessarily or that what I said would provoke unwanted and unwarranted concern. This was the person who knew I did not need platitudes or cuddling: instead, I gained an insight into how things were with my friends. And while the phrase misery loves company might be true, the exchange was rooted in a much deeper understanding. This girl is the one person to not tell me how happy I must be to be back home; the one person I can actually be honest with and know that she completely understands. We may joke about the idea that I am following in her footsteps, but I would consider myself only so lucky to do so. And so I know she understands.

Over the years I have known her, it seems to have been just my luck to share my life with her. Sometimes I joke about the fact that I can't even remember how we met but I do know that our friendship was sealed when I sat down across from her one summer, listening to her tell me about her current relationship, and thinking that I did not know this person well enough to be sharing all these secrets. And years later, I know her well enough to know most of her secrets. And she mine. If you ever wanted to get some dirt, you could do no worse. If you ever want to know what would be the perfect ring, proposal, wedding day for me, this girl would know. No wonder she is the person who will stand next to me should I ever get married - more than likely, she is the friend who got me there with advice, support, and encouragement. The kind of friendship you can never put a price on, and hopefully you will all be lucky enough to know.

Disappearing Friends

Oddly enough, making a move thousands of miles away means I seem to be losing friends left and right. Well, not so much losing friends as people I know who were in contact with me electronically have dropped off the map. Or perhaps, just dropped off the FB radar. Which - in this day and age -is probably the same as severing all ties, right?

I could take it personally, or hunt through my friend's list, trying to figure out who is was that is gone but I don't have the time and energy for that. I am not being lazy - I am being realistic. Things like finding a job, organizing my life in the States, or simply making time to have a girly night with my best friend ever is the sort of thing that is on my mind at the moment. Not which person is not interested in being in touch now that I am living far away, in a strange land of strange customs (really? no 'zed'????).

But the other thing about this situation is that I don't feel threatened or anyway put out by this. It is simple: I have spent almost thirty years getting to a point where I am not confusing things like true friendship with something more fleeting. I have friends who I have not spoken to in years, and yet, we pick up as though it has not been more than a hour that we've been apart. There are friends I know I can count on to always be looking out for me, to be there for me, no matter where or when I need them. And they know I will always be there for them as well. And those are the friends that matter; I would be more concerned if one of those friends had decided that I was not worth knowing anymore. I would wonder what I had done and try to repair things if I had done a wrong.

But the fleeting relationships? Sure, they make life more interesting and increases my social circle. More people to hang out, with more to chat to, and some really cool people to find out more about. But in the end, when either that person or I are in our beds (separately, I might add as I see those eyebrows raising), I am not going to miss their friendship or think how lucky I am to have them in my life. That I save for the people that have proven themselves to be there for me, through the bad times and that good. I have very few of those friends, but thankfully, I know they will never leave my side or sight. And I hope that I may always be so lucky to make more friends like that throughout my life, even if few and far between.

On Nurturing Nature

I have been thinking alot about whether the nature v. nurture debate applies in real life. You know, in the everyday of 'you' and 'I' versus the everyday world of a psychology article and I am thinking it does. Obviously, this could be a confirmation bias on my part but I am realizing - having been back for all of a week - that there are ways in which I am very like my mum. And there are ways I am very like my dad. Which is probably why I am also sometimes at loggerheads with my parents - more often with my dad, since we are both stubborn and like to do things our own way.

But I think it applies in other ways: looking at my nephew whom I have not seen since he was two, I think more and more than he has alot of mannerisms that are similar to my brothers. In fact, there are things he does or ways he acts and I immediately flash back to growing up with my youngest brother. But, additionally, in ways that would not be expected, there are so many physical characteristics that everyone in the family says is just like when my brother was younger. Which is weird? Can nurture influence nature that much?

Frankie Says Relax

Amazingly, it has been a pretty relaxing weekend. My dad, myself, and my nephew drove to his (my nephew's) home and we spent a couple of days just relaxing. The first thing I had forgotten is that Miami is nothing like the rest of the United States. Hell, Miami is nothing like the rest of Florida. So, after driving about three hours to the west coast (my brother lives around the Fort Myers area), there was less spanish and more White people (not meant to sound like a bad thing). Remember, I just moved from London and I loved it there LOL

Anyways, the other thing about not living in a crowded "big" city like Miami is that there is space to live. Sure, you're stuck driving further to get to things like the supermarket or ginormous retail stores, but still land to live is not to be sniffed at. Visiting my brother's house is like seeing the kind of place I would love to live in, except after about one week outside of civilization and I would drive myself nutters.

But a weekend was just about the right amount of time. It was great to see my family again, especially after the last two years. And I got a chance to swim in the pool, see my brother and my dad go fishing, and just chill near the coast. Talk about the perfect way to spend a relaxed weekend.

Confessions of a Fashionista

I have spent the last day clearing out the remnants of a life I had left behind and searching through my closet for all the things I no longer need or want, I am surprised. Ten years ago, I was about the same size but seemingly, I chose to wear lots of long sleeved men's tops - hiding behind a sort of genderless identity. Even most of my pants are bought from the men's department and while yes, there is something sexy about wearing "boyfriend jeans" or something similar, that obviously was not what I was going for. Looking back, I realize that I did not think of myself as someone who could be sexy and so why not go in the completely opposite direction and become one of the guys? Perhaps more literally than figuratively...

Now, ten years on and returning from a lifetime away, I am realizing that I am more confident about the person I am. All my clothes are very feminine and in fact, often revealing. Hell, you've seen the blog photo: I love what god has given me and while it may have taken almost three deades to get here and two years living in a country where I was both exotic and curvy (UK), rather than fat and different (US), I have given in to being revealing and asserting that I am not just one of the guys. Sure, I may still talk like one of the guys - I make no qualms about the fact that I am a visiual person, that I am open about most topics that girls/women find distasteful - but I think most of my friends would agree I no longer look like one. Now, if I am slipping into "boyfriend jeans", they do literally belong to a boyfriend

Better Not to Know

One of the things that has made me most sad about leaving London was leaving the opportunity - or maybe just the chance - to see if there was anything between myself and a friend. Everytime I spent time with them, we had a mutually good time and there were indications that I assumed were a green light without any actual declarations that could be highly embarrassing should there not be reciprocation.

But when I was back and hectically trying to plan things with friends, I could not seem to pin this person down to a day or time to meet up. Hell, I could not pin this person down to reply to an email or a text and I just figured I had been immensely wrong. Getting on that plane, I was disappointed to think I had missed out on seeing him one last time and seeing if something developed, but at the same time, I was not getting on the plane heartbroken. Or worse, longing for something that I don't think either of us would be able to wait for.

Imagine my surprise to land almost nine hours later and receive an explanation. Fair enough, I may be gullible and perhaps I have misunderstood the whole situation. But when there is an explanation for someone's absence, I will give them the benefit of doubt. Perhaps the incommunicado has not been excused and needs some further explanation, but there we go. And I am wondering with thoughts all a turmoil, perhaps I would rather have just chalked this whole affair to a giant cosmic letdown than to start thinking again about possibilities, even those afar

Sitting on the Tarmac

Gliding down over the city, I realized with a sinking feeling that I did not recognize these streets and landmarks as home anymore. Even knowing the layout, being able to find my house from thousands of miles in the air, I still did not feel home. Truly, homecoming would have been three weeks ago and in a place thousands of miles to the east (or west, depending on how you want to travel). It is that intake of air the first moment that you glimpse some part of the city or landscape that you recognize from the air; the feeling of being complete somehow - more yourself, more alive, back in the arms of a bosom friend. And all of that is missing in this place. There is something depressing about being around the familiar and feeling like a stranger.

Home Is...

In the past few months or so, I have often talked about 'home' but I find that I must be confusing my friends as they keep asking "Which home do you mean?" So I thought I would try to clarify exactly what I mean and which 'home' I mean when I am talking about the places I have been and the places that I am going.

When people ask me where I am from, I often say that my home is in the Caribbean. But, honestly, my home is Guyana. It is the place I hold citizenship for, it is the place that I have a passport of, it is the place where I can always return to when I need to find somewhere to go to call my own. But I have never lived there; well, not never. I just left when I was young enough that I don't remember much of it. And honestly, after having spent a month there, I realize that I can never feel at home there. I don't know the place and it is so different from everything that I grew up with and around, that I feel out of place. I just seem to sit on the outskirts and fabric of my land of birth. Everything about me screams foreigner when I am there

For the longest time, I have considered my real home to be where my parents where. That is where I belonged, I felt. And for the first twenty-one years of my life, I lived with them, so it made sense to call where my parents are as home. Even when I was living on my own, pursuing my future, I still would call flying back to see my parents as returning 'home'. Chicago was wonderful, but never felt like home. It just felt like somewhere that I was just hanging out, enjoying the new experience, but in the end, I always wanted to back home with mummy and daddy.

But in the past two years, home has taken on a new meaning for me. It now means the place that I feel at home in. It is the place that I don't feel like I will need to roam in another two, four, or ten years. It is the place I can see myself putting my roots down and living my life. The life that I imagine for myself, as well as the life that I am meant to live. And that place is here and now. It is London and when I talk about finally coming home, I mean London. When I talk about missing home, I mean London. And I can't imagine a better place to consider home than London. I know not everyone understands it or even would want to call London home, but I do. And everything that has happened - the good, the bad, the indifferent - has happened to make me more certain of that feeling of finally being home when I am in London.

I know that people say that home is where the heart is, and I think that is true. So I must be leaving my heart here, hoping to return sooner rather than later. And while I am not leaving my heart with any one person while I am gone, I am leaving all the tangible and intangible things I love about London here, willing myself to return. So look out for me, as I will be coming home sooner than you might expect.

Making Plans

Hi All,

As you may or may not know, I am going to be leaving England by the end of March to go and live in America for a while. Specifically, Miami. And yes, mi casa es su casa. But before that, I have about two weeks back in London and trying to make the best ad most of it. I want to see people, so please, plan things and tell me about them. I have organized my last S1L event as a Down The Pub event on March 12th, 2009 at the Founders Arms (starting around six) but I am happy to make plans with friends - even if it is something as low key as walking around london. If I am free, I will probably be up for it. Just let me know - either via FB, via email (mcyates79@hotmail.com) or via mobile (07964168932).

Love y'all lots. Thanks for having made the last 20 months really enjoyable.