I'm Not a Citizen

When I first arrived in Toronto, I went to see a band. They played a song with a chorus that repeated itself thusly:

I'm not a citizen *clap-clap clap*

Everyone in the band, all 11 or 12 of them, chanted and clapped along. I wondered if they were trying to tell me something. Yet Toronto was a very welcoming place, so much so that I look forward to moving there in the New Year. What I didn't expect was how small it would now seem.

St. John's has been a bit of a culture shock. It's great to be home, but if I had no exit strategy I think I'd probably wind up sleeping myself into a coma.

Coined

I’ve coined a new term: proactive puttering. It means slowly making your way through the day via a series of mundane yet necessary tasks which, if left unaccomplished, will eventually incur the stress and anxiety normally associated with having to complete a mountain of tasks with a molehill of time and a firmly fixed deadline.

I’ve the day to myself as everyone I know is tucked snugly into the nook of their current occupation, and so I must currently occupy myself. What better way to do so then by meandering through laundry and household scrubbing, sifting through my personal affects and affairs, and, well, blogging? The latter’s perhaps not as practical in terms of getting me ready to leave London, but it does help put me at ease amidst a day littered with sudden little pockets of anxiety.

The party was very good fun. It seemed to go on forever, and in an instant it was over. If pressed, I’d describe my time here in London the very same way.