Please See Me

I am ten big A4 pages into editing Dystopolis, and it’s struck me not how hard editing is but how time-consuming it can be. When I write, the words tend to tumble (no pun intended) out of me in this huge stream, often getting a couple of pages written in half an hour; by contrast, when I edit, I labour over every line. I cut about as much as I write, which is a lot - there are paragraphs I’ve slashed through on every page, replaced by exposition and better pacing and (especially in this first story) a better understanding of what the fuck is going on.

As I edit this book, I am keeping an eye on the visa timelines of other people in my situation, and learning upsetting things - namely, that someone who received a particular letter at a similar time has their visa interview scheduled, and that it’s in late December. I look at this and wonder how realistic my hopes of getting to America before Christmas really are.

In the last couple of months, I have been the sometimes-close and sometimes-distant witness of a thousand emotional moments. Two of the people I follow on Tumblr have gotten married (to other people) - something that I have been wanting to do for so long, now, with the cold hard hand of the US Government pressed squarely into my chest as it grins humourlessly, simultaneously yelling “WELCOME” as it makes me feel as unwanted as it possibly can.

Today, at work, someone came back from maternity leave - leave that was being covered by my job - and I saw her instantly re-integrate herself just as I’m preparing to grab my things and leave forever. One staff member said that it was as if she had never left. I can’t help but wonder if that sentiment extends to the idea that it’s as if I was never there.

The hardest part lately has been knowing that until I move, no part of my life can really move forward. This isn’t just talking about my relationships with other people - Arden most of all, but also the people I’ll end up meeting in the US. It’s also my career, and finding a place I can call home, and getting financially independent for (really) the first time in my life - something I approach with just as much trepidation as eagerness to get started. All of this is cut off by that same invisible hand, with no real idea when it might beckon me a little closer.

Until I begin to pack my bags - and I hope that’ll be soon, but hope is all I have - I can carry on editing a few pages a day. The illusion of progress. I can immerse myself in the only thing that’s left under my control.

This was probably a downer to read, and usually I’d end with some quip about how things aren’t all bad because hey Masters of Sex is a great new series on Showtime that you should definitely check out but - no. The person I love is 3,156 miles away from me, and that’s normal, and it shouldn’t be. There’s a danger of feeling entitled to this sort of thing, and I’m aware that there are situations far worse than mine, but sometimes envy sets in. I want to be the subject of the next elated emotional moment. Not just another witness.

2013-09-30

• I am terrible at dealing with grief; worse at observing the grief of others. I cried at my grandfather’s funeral, but the tears came more from a sympathetic connection to the wailing people around me, and less a sense of personal loss, even though the loss of my grandfather hurt. I cry at unexpected injustice, emotional swells in movies and goodbyes. The last time I broke down completely was around this time last year, when the prospect of ever moving Arden to the UK suddenly felt impossibly distant. (Things have changed since then, obviously.) In general, though, I don’t cry. I retreat.
• Today, blessed with an abundance of time but without the mental energy to really get to grips with editing my book, I finished an inventory of everything I own. Seeing it all reduced to a list is strange - as if the combined clutter of twenty-three years is suddenly manageable. It’s still a fucking long list, and I’m not sure how much I’m really going to be able to bring with me, but this feels like an achievement. Another step forward.
• Speaking of progress, I am now at what most of my fellow visa applicants describe as the most stressful period - the time between submitting all of my application forms and the visa interview itself. There is no way to track this. I have confirmation that my application forms arrived, at least, and a record of my medical exam, but beyond that I have to sit here and wait with no fixed end. The best thing I have right now is hope.
• I’ll be okay. There is a part of me that refuses to engage with the world at the moment, as if limiting my interaction and turning my days into amorphous blobs rather than discrete events will allow me to forget the passing of time. To some extent, it’s working. There is no Living My Life To The Fullest at the moment. That’s a doomed enterprise. Best to live my life at a mediocre level, and save myself from extra stress.
• Really, though. I’ll be okay.

2013-09-16

• This is a busy week.
• Tomorrow, I have forms to print, check, and compile, and more forms to ensure get delivered to me on time.
• Wednesday, I need to post those same forms to the US embassy because I work late on Tuesdays and can’t make it to the post office.
• On Thursday, I need to print the manuscript for the first draft of my book because it’s the only time I can get away with printing 150 pages on the college’s dime; I also need to collect a certified copy of my birth certificate, again for the visa.
• On Friday, I’m planning to work a little more on a short Twine thing that I’ve been making for Arden’s birthday (that you will never, ever see), and I’ll also be beginning an inventory of most of the things in my room that aren’t books or clothes. You know. So I know what I’m leaving behind.
• It’s only struck me recently that I am actually nervous regarding my upcoming medical exam - not because I think I’ll somehow fail, or because of the sheer fucking expense, but because as part of it I need at least three vaccinations, and I don’t like pain. Well. I don’t like the pain associated with vaccinations. Best to cut this train of thought short.
• On the heels of the release of Grand Theft Auto V, it’s hit me how little I want to play it because of how my ideology’s shifted in the last couple of years. Maybe, also, part of it comes down to the fact that I now follow video games journalism, which is a fucking joke at best and harbours truly evil people at worst. (Not that good people aren’t video games journalists. They just tend to get fired for being right, or work independently.)
• I think this has maybe been a month for meltdowns tied to not being able to process complex thought.
• Case in point: GTA V is either a masterpiece or a shitshow, but rarely an ugly concept shrouded in a technical wonder. (I would say that reviews challenge this notion, given that a few highlight the game’s glaring misogyny, but those reviews have still given scores of nine or higher. Apparently being genuinely unpleasant doesn’t matter as long as you get particle effects right.)
• And here’s another: this stupid, stupid notion that Miley Cyrus is somehow either a) a representative for an oversexualised generation of mindless morons (despite her latest video being shot by a middle-aged man), or b) the actual Destroyer of Worlds, summoned by some ancient prophecy predicting the total breakdown of society as we know it.
• The problem with doing this sort of thing is that you first get the backlash of people claiming that no, actually, Miley Cyrus is literally Jesus; second, everyone misses the more subtle problems with the video for Wrecking Ball - that it depicts an extremely young woman as the willing participant to her own objectification as part of a wider culture that generally doesn’t have any problem with doing exactly the same.
• And even then, the moment someone says “willing participant” Miley Cyrus either becomes vacuous and stupid or cynical and malicious. Even down to the wire, people hate thinking in shades of grey. Blame E.L. James for that one.
• All this said, this might be coming from somewhere altogether more personal. My personal life has had a few bumps lately - without going into much detail, I’ll say that the process of applying for a visa and gearing up to move to another country can throw your heartstrings into a banjo in a bluegrass metal covers group. And maybe that’s made me a little moodier, and a little more susceptible to seeing the worst in people.
• Still trying not to, though. No-one can fault me for trying.

ICYMI

My visa petition was approved today, two months early. This means I’ll be going down to London for shots and interviews very soon and maybe leaving the country as early as mid-November.

Honestly, I’m still freaking out. It’ll be a few days before I fully process this.

An unordered list of things you need to do when you move to the United States of America

• Try not to panic.
• Suddenly scrabble around for “documentary proof of a relationship”. This can be: ticket stubs, flight itineraries, Skype call records, photographs. This cannot be: late-night explicit Skype chatlogs, half-finished erotica, a nagging sense of loss whenever you leave each other.
• Somehow amass £2,500 in savings from a job that pays you £6,000 a year. Do this by obsessively accounting for every expense, continuing to live in your parents’ house, and taking on extra work whenever you can.
• Really, don’t panic. It’s going to be okay.
• Go to London and pay £227 for a doctor to examine every part of your body, including but not limited to a chest x-ray and careful inspection of your genitals. Pay another £150 for vaccines that you would never need in the UK, including but not limited to rabies, rotavirus, and hepatitis B.
• Pay another doctor in America $20 to look at your newly-completed vaccination records and copy them onto a form, then put it in an envelope.
• Get used to doing everything in triplicate.
• Get used to waiting.
• Make vague plans for the things you can plan: getting a US driver’s licence, a rough picture of the job market in the US, where you’re going to get married. Try and keep them as firm as you can without over-planning.
• I mean it, panicking solves nothing. I know that living and breathing bureaucracy for two years of your life isn’t what we in the business call “fun”, but there is an endgame here.
• Try and remember that other people are going through this process because if they don’t, they’ll be executed by authoritarian governments.
• Don’t deliberately go looking for horror stories on visa forums. Keep in mind the statistics - that, taking into account appeals, 99% of the people applying for this visa have it granted. Which, given that it’s also the visa with the highest rate of fraud, is not a bad statistic.
• Try and gently loosen ties without severing them altogether. Gear up for departure. Don’t obsess over what you’re leaving behind, but don’t ignore it either.
• Remember why you’re doing this. Remember that a few thousand miles away is the person who changed your life, who makes you laugh more than everyone else you know combined, who inspires you to work harder and make art in a way that no-one else does, who is so jaw-droppingly beautiful that you sometimes need to pinch yourself when you’re in a room together.
• Don’t allow a mountain of paperwork to distract from essential truths, like the fact that buried under that mountain is love so impossibly solid and secure that you’re amazed it exists.
• Keep in mind: a green card is just a means to an end, and that end is fantastic.

Today in Tomorrow

I’m going to move to America.

Let that one sink in for a moment. Remember that for the last few months, I’ve been futilely attempting to bring Arden, my fiancé to this country. That the last time I had considered emigrating was around the age of eighteen, long before I had even heard of Arden or met most of the bunch of native USA-ians who I now call friends. Bear in mind that this plan is so new that I haven’t even told my Dad yet.

Got a sense of what I’m dealing with yet?

I say “dealing with”. This is exciting, as it should be. And I’ve been on a strange high for the last few days that I haven’t felt in months.

Putting it simply: my main priority right now is getting to be with Arden. It’s for a few reasons, and not just the short-sighted “I love her” one. Arden motivates me to be a better person, be more proactive, and - contradicting the age-old cliché of neutering one’s personality to fit a partner - express myself more and be an individual. I thrive around Arden, and I want the chance to do that.

Doing that by bringing her here was always going to be hard, of course. I’d need to get to a point where I was 100% self-sufficient, having moved out and earning enough to fully support two people. I am an English and Philosophy graduate. I might have a nice little temp job until the end of October, but I’m not even close to that. Add in a family willing to put ethical principles in front of short-term suffering, and it was always going to be rough.

And then things got worse. There’s currently legislation being drafted that’d bump up the minimum salary requirement for a UK citizen moving their fiancé or spouse to this country to around £23,000. I’m not going to earn that for a while unless I’m extremely lucky. And by “a while”, I mean years. And there are peripheral reasons, too - while the employment situation anywhere is dire at the moment, there are a lot more small presses in the USA and a lot of video game companies. And in the US, there are people willing to offer their generosity so that I can settle in. It’s still a long road, but it’s something that feels within reach.

It means that the low-wage, low-stress job that I’m doing at the moment counts towards a savings goal that’s lofty, but not so daunting that it doesn’t feel within reach. (I’m uncomfortable saying what that goal is, as I’m not looking for yet more offers of money, but I feel confident that Arden and I can reach it.) Even if/when I’m getting a pitiful sum from the government while I look for a new job, I can add it to the steadily-growing pile. This is all stuff I couldn’t really do before. There wasn’t any point - what’s a few thousand saved now when it’s just going to fester until I’m two or three steps up the career ladder?

I feel like I have agency for the first time in months. Maybe even years - granted, I was studying, but there’s nothing like an arts degree to make you feel like you’re not doing anything with your life.

This feels like a new chapter, rather than a really slow page-turn. On Monday morning, I’ll be going into work with just a little more energy, because I know that what I’m doing is worth something. I’m looking forward to living with the person I love, and having the breathing space to make a life together without collapsing under stress. It’ll be months until we can even put the next step into effect - beyond October, I have no planned employment, and welfare payments only bring in so much - but the end has turned from something in whose direction we’re blindly sailing to a faint glimmer on the horizon.

I turned 22 last week, and after a few very long months, I feel like I’m finally getting things on track.