It is starting to get dark early again. I looked out at eight o'clock tonight, and the sky was already black. I always try and keep in tune with daylight hours ever since I drove myself mad experiencing none of it at university. Once you get past the novelty, waking up when the sun goes down fucks with your head.
I got a letter from the US Embassy in London on Friday. Per its instructions, I’ve scheduled a medical on the 25th, and I’ll be sending a shitload of forms off next week. It’s so close. If I think for too long about the seconds slipping by, I begin to get anxious and stressed. It’s a minority candidate, but there will always be some part of me that doesn’t want to leave this country. As a counterpoint, though, the thought that I’ll be in my fiancé’s arms in a couple of months (hopefully) is electrifying.
Someone I’ve exchanged a few words with - someone who knew and spoke to Arden - has been outed as having sent sexually explicit photographs to an underage girl a few years back. By all means, there are countless parties that are more aggrieved by factors of tens, hundreds, and so on - but it still depresses me that ugly impulses appear to exist even within people who seem altogether good. There’s a hierarchy of loss here, definitely, but at the same time the knowledge that no-one wins with this sort of thing is hard to ignore.
I’m still writing, incrementally. The last week has been stressful - waiting to spring into action with visa paperwork, in a constant state of hypervigilance, and the secondary effect of those around me having a pretty rough week too. I’m hoping that I can get back into a rhythm fairly soon. Not long to go, now.
I’m finally up to date on Breaking Bad. That last episode was brilliant.

I have started reading my first ever Stephen King novel (The Green Mile). I am still doing a job I don’t really like for not much money, but overall consider worth it because at the end of it all I’ll be able to move to America. I am still in love. I am seeing friends a little more often after a couple of weeks of hiding away. If I get a job I have applied for (one that pays more), I am seriously considering taking the test to join MENSA, something I’ve wanted to do for a while but never got around to. I am starting to mentally catalogue my possessions, sorting them into the things that I’ll need immediately upon leaving, things I’ll really want to ship over, and things I couldn’t care less about. I’m surprised at the sheer amount of stuff in that last category. I am getting outside more, suffering from a cold, and occasionally writing - even if it’s just filth for my fiancé to read. I am learning to drive, still. I got to thirty miles an hour this week, and nearly pissed myself in terror.

It’s strange - the last few weeks have changed me a little, even though I’m not quite sure what precipitated it. I’ve become a little more focused in terms of my future, and a little more open to living for the moment, and the tension between the two leaves me feeling a little less detached, while having a stronger sense of my ability to treat situations rationally. When people launch into hysterics, I don’t follow suit - and I never used to, so evidently something slipped that I’m only just getting back. I can still love, hate, and have messy, complex emotional responses to people and events, but there’s a greater sense of control in terms of how I express those feelings.

One thing I am reclaiming is my desire to explore things outside my room. For three years at university, I was almost cemented in place in front of my laptop, only occasionally emerging for the odd anthology meeting or seminar. There was a brief period in my second year - helped immensely by the fact that I was living with people I wasn’t scared of - where I used to go for these walks at 2am, and while the time’s changed - usually after I’ve eaten in the evening, about seven, when the streetlamps are at full brightness and the chill’s starting to set in - the practice is something I’ve reclaimed. Today, I took a bus to Salford, walked for a couple of hours along the river, then came home - and I feel better for it. I had time to think - to not be constantly distracted by a barrage of information, and just take in the atmosphere.

It must sound a little ridiculous - all of the above is just me becoming a functional human being again - but it’s a big deal to me. When I move, although I’ll be in the best possible emotional situation, I’ll need a certain level of motivation and practical skill to properly get settled. That’s what the next few months are about for me - I’m slowly getting to a point where I won’t just settle, but thrive while living in another country.