I’d planned on breaking out my bike today, pumping up the tires, and rolling around Chambly handing out job applications…but then it ended up being a bit too chilly (seriously, Canada, it’s May…what is this).
Rather than have my adult plans ruined by too-fresh weather, however, I hit the Internet and sent out a flurry CV’s to promising-looking companies. Online ESL positions, telemarketing (hey it’s $20 an hour), video game testing…even a really amazing looking junior script writer in what looked to be the dream job of the year.
I was feeling pretty accomplished already when I actually got an email back from one of the companies – one for video game testing. To my astonishment it was a real live We’re Interested response.
So I’ve sent back some questionnaires they requested I fill out, and I’ve been left feeling pretty encouraged. Aside from saying goodbye to Ricky for an indeterminate number of months, finding a job has definitely been my #1 trepidation about coming back to Canada. No saying how it’ll go, but I’m crossing my fingers pretty hard.
It has put me in a contemplative state of mind, that said. This first week away I’ve been trying to play mind games with myself to make it all a little easier.
“It’s almost like vacation,” I can tell myself. “It’s a prolonged visit with family and friends. A summer holiday…a working holiday, if you will. I’d pay $5000 to do that in Australia!”
But throwing myself into the job market like a baited hook is making it all feel a lot more real. It may not be forever, but it also isn’t temporary. At least not in the sense that a vacation is. I’m back, I’m down to the grindstone again, I’m easing back into real life – and it’s unfortunately a few thousand miles farther west than I wish I was doing it.
Still. Trying to make the best of it. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything so bittersweet before. If I had cosmic genie powers, I’d be mashing together worlds right now pretty fast to get Hastings and Chambly a little closer together. Perhaps one of the hardest things about traveling is that your personal emotional house is a series of bricks laid out across the globe that can never be stacked into a single unit. So a lot of the time you’re left shivering through the night because there’s a big obvious hole in one of your walls.
To stave off the nostalgia – or perhaps indulgently succumb to it – I’ve started to rewatch Goodnight Sweetheart.
A 90’s British comedy, it’s about a time traveler torn between 1993 and 1940 as he tries to live two lives at once yet seems to fit in neither one exclusively. Ricky showed it to me about a year ago, and though I had a bit of trouble getting into it at the time, it’s been something that’s grown on me like mould on cheese (but the tasty kind of mould, like gorgonzola).
Rewatching it now definitely hits that sweet spot. The show itself is thematically perfect, and the memories of watching it the first time around make me all warm and fuzzy too. I’m so happy there’s fifty-eight episodes to look forward to (well, fifty-six now…).
But enough philosoraptoring: turning in early tonight to hopefully rid myself of the last of these suitcases under each eye that is jet lag.
Until next time!