I was recommended to the Facebook page, I am a Triangle, by a long time friend, whom I met in post natal class some 8 years ago, almost to the day. She lived round the corner from me in London but what bonded us together was that she used to live in Malaysia, and I was from Singapore. We were expats (of one kind or another) living in a suburban neighbourhood in South West London, and there was much to talk about.
Since then, she has moved a few times during my (only) stint in London and when she heard that I had moved across the Atlantic, she recommended this group on FB (along with a friend from hers that I am meeting up with next week!) She laughingly said that she is addicted to moving and can't keep still for more than a few years in one place.
I'd agree with her about that addiction.
I am a Triangle is a FB page for people who move around a lot for work (and their "trailing spouses"). Like most FB groups, it's a place to share about your new experiences, vent about what isn't working for you, ask questions about a whole host of things related to moving and somewhere where you can comment and critique without fear of recrimination. Until now (and after speaking to this lovely friend of mine), I never really understood the restlessness that stood in my way of making a home in London. Was it me ... or them?
Ten days into California, and you could say it was going swimmingly. I'm really enjoying discovering the new things. I remember longing to leave Singapore when I was 12, waiting for that moment to be free of the monotony, and London my creative escape which I loved down to its seedy Soho core. And that same sort of tingling excitement grips me. I have always been happy with my own company (dangerous for not making any friends!) and so the initial blush of a shiny new place isn't tainted by the lack of socialisation. I am drinking it all in and it's not just the sunshine that is giving me that sun-kissed glow.
I'd say that I am addicted to moving too. And I am a Triangle has helped informed me about the questions that I have around my "unsettledness" in London, over the years. I don't do routine very well (which I am learning to do), and I love new shiny experiences. Not things (I don't like shopping that much!), but new shiny experiences.
But this move has reminded me of one thing - that I'd forgotten that America was on my radar of things to do. Those forgotten dreams? They tend to come back and bite you. I'd forgotten that when I was applying for university, I had planned to come to America to do a degree in journalism (albeit East Coast!). I'd forgotten that I had made plans to write for a magazine (not a newspaper) about social observations (a weekly column I might add!) and then naturally segway into write books for a living. I'd forgotten that I took the TOEFL and the SATS and got into Boston U. I'd forgotten that I gave it all up to conform to my parents' ideal of a perfect dream.
Silly, you might say? To have given it all up for a parents' dream. Where was the rebelliousness? And courage? Ah, but in a culture of obedience and filial piety, when that is all you know, fighting back is hard, especially when they withhold the fees! Not matter, law has stood me in good stead. And I don't cry for what could have been.
Except that I had forgotten. All of that for a moment. And in a twinkle of an eye, it returns. Like a memory slowly trickling back, to who I was, and how I wanted it to be.
What I do now I guess is up to me. I'm back to where I wanted to be, twenty years ago, ironically. London was a perfect, wonderful distraction. I made great memories and great friends in an ever changing beautiful, seedy, contradictory city. In some ways, it remains home. I could never give it up, with its museums and galleries, the tube (I love the tube!), iconic buildings and theatre. But now, I am back on track in a way.
What do I do with it now?
Lots of love, from California xoxo
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