Immigration matters? Uh, no thanks. Not interested.
Well, that’s been my approach pretty much the entire time I’ve been here. I was a student back in 2011. So when I moved from the U.S. to the Netherlands, the University handled everything with very little input from me. Aside from a bunch of fees and a delay when I first arrived, it was a pretty mindless process. From my residency status to my city registration, they had it covered. I received my registration details in the mail. I barely understood the purpose. And I just had to show up with my passport and smile (or not) to receive my residence permit card.
For once, I was basking in the glow of privilege.* Continue reading
Have you ever had trouble getting a key to turn a lock? Sometimes a key will go into the slot pretty easily, confirming you have the right one. But no matter how aggressive you are with the right turn and jiggle maneuver, the thing won’t budge. You turn it upside down. You adjust its depth. You try other keys. But you know you have the right key – the one that won’t turn.
Then you take a second to breathe. Frustration subsides. Your grip loosens. And suddenly, as if you were imagining the countless seconds of resistance, the key finds its groove. The lock turns with ease.
I may have made some mistakes. But isn’t there some sort of saying about life being about taking risks, making a mess of things, and somehow coming out on top – or happier – or wiser – or some shit like that? If not, such a saying should exist.
I was in the U.S. for a couple of months a little while ago. I traveled quite a bit while there, getting to see lots (though not all) of the important people, including my Mom. It was at my Mom’s when I started to have some doubts about returning to Amsterdam. In a safe refuge where I was fed, emotionally supported, and understood the language spoken, I wondered if it was time to close the chapter and wrap up the fantasy of living in the Netherlands.Perhaps all signs were directing me back to a stable and U.S.-based reality.
To save money, I’ve been staying with an older woman who lives in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina. As I mentioned before, she’s 82 and delightful. And we’ve spent hours talking. Our topics range from her time in the Air Force, dating life (hers and mine), racism in the South, racism in the North, the children we both love (but never birthed), and memories of childhood.
Her honesty is refreshing. And I’m happy that she likes me. I was even shown a picture of her single nephew who’s about my age, with the slightest hints of our future together (though she doubts he’ll ever marry).
But there’s just this one thing that came up recently: Continue reading
I complained in my last post about not having a stable place to live. Well, technically I’m still homeless. And I stand by my complaints. But sometimes the bright side of a bad situation turns out to be the point of it all. In this case, once I was able to recognize that bright side, I realized it’s what I’ve been wanting all along: freedom.
Stability would be cool. Eventually I want to have all of my stuff in one place. And I’d like to eliminate that uncertain pause when people ask me where I live. But in the meantime, what have I been complaining about? This is the perfect time to take advantage of my life with no leash. As you may know, I thrive on opportunities to pick up and go wherever, whenever. So I trashed that rising anxiety and purchased another plane ticket.
One of the major disadvantages to this quirky lifestyle I’ve created for myself is home instability. When everything else is up in the air, not having a stable address just might be the worst part. It’s probably the thing that would deter most people from choosing this route. And I don’t blame them.
Occasionally I look back on some of my former apartments and try to remember what it felt like to be at home. Places where I could have stayed for much longer. But they rarely kept me for more than 3 years. There was the cute, oddly-shaped Oakland apartment with the red door. I had a sliver of a view of Lake Merritt, a private entrance, and a back door, all of which made me think I was doing something. In Philadelphia I had the nicest and cheapest (in retrospect) apartment, with a huge porch, two floors, a gigantic bedroom, and a view of one of my favorite Ethiopian restaurants. Forget about everything else that may have been upsetting me at those times…they were the good ‘ole days! I had a lease, some keys, and immediate access to all of my belongings.
Today, well, not so much. Continue reading
Perhaps the most extended silence on the blog has just passed. I wish I had an excuse – maybe I haven’t had a minute to write; or perhaps I forgot my WordPress password. But nothing like that. I’ve had plenty of time. And Chrome remembers all of my passwords. I’ve even had things I wanted to write. But I’ve just been unable to commit to the finality of blogged words. Many of my thoughts have felt fleeting. Most of my grievances have passed. And a bunch of my recent “lessons learned” have been challenged. So even if I had written in the last couple of months, I probably would have wanted to take them back. Turns out I just needed some time to be quiet.