... it's realising most of your social life is actually centred around work (or your work location) and your work colleagues.
I do have more friends/family on the net than IRL (in real life), owing to the fact that none of them live here in the UK. But here's the problem: with online friends you can receive encouragement, validation, a word to cheer you up, from your friends on the 'net, but once the screen flicks off, you're alone again.
I didn't realise I had to actually put in the work of making friends and going to social events, what with my near-crippling shyness and all (so for me yeah, it does feel like work). Stuff does happen, friends get made, but I am not your standard hard-drinking, hill-walking, football-loving fella so I guess even in friendly Scotland, "getting a life" a.k.a. freeing yourself of the work circle of "friends" (workplace friends are not really your friends) does take time and effort.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Owner, Group, World...
Years ago, in my endless quest to become a more fun person, I found a group of really fun people in London. In this case I met them through a friend some years ago. And almost all of them speak Spanish, and know many Spanish and Latino customs.
I don't know why I thought I could fit in with the group -- as far as speaking Spanish I was struggling but doing fairly well in my opinion. But there were always going to be other things, from in-jokes, to things expected of house guests, that I would miss. At best it would cause me some awkwardness and a little isolation in an otherwise cracking multi-party conversation; at worst I would lose a few friend-acquaintances over perceived rudeness and ingratitude.
But lacking a 'posse' where I live (and lived in London), they were probably the closest thing I had to such. I've tried it a couple times before and have always felt a little odd -- not blogging as much as the rest, not geeking out as much as the rest, not drinking as much as the rest, not having Nepali as my first language, and so on.
Well, sure, posses aren't for everyone. But I still do feel 'left out' when I see groups (and that particular one as well) having a great time on (where else) Facebook. Almost rubs it in my face that I can't seem to get it right in a 'group setting' at all, with the -- almost sad -- exception of probably work.
Next thing they'll say it's the 21st century and IRL posses are over-rated...
I don't know why I thought I could fit in with the group -- as far as speaking Spanish I was struggling but doing fairly well in my opinion. But there were always going to be other things, from in-jokes, to things expected of house guests, that I would miss. At best it would cause me some awkwardness and a little isolation in an otherwise cracking multi-party conversation; at worst I would lose a few friend-acquaintances over perceived rudeness and ingratitude.
But lacking a 'posse' where I live (and lived in London), they were probably the closest thing I had to such. I've tried it a couple times before and have always felt a little odd -- not blogging as much as the rest, not geeking out as much as the rest, not drinking as much as the rest, not having Nepali as my first language, and so on.
Well, sure, posses aren't for everyone. But I still do feel 'left out' when I see groups (and that particular one as well) having a great time on (where else) Facebook. Almost rubs it in my face that I can't seem to get it right in a 'group setting' at all, with the -- almost sad -- exception of probably work.
Next thing they'll say it's the 21st century and IRL posses are over-rated...
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Moving
"You're leaving Trinidad and going to Atlanta? ... oh, college. Well, are you thinking of coming back?"
It was easy to answer "probably not", given that programming, software and the web hadn't really taken off in the Caribbean yet.
"I heard you're moving to New York ... oh, for work. Lot less laid back there, you know."
Another easy one -- I had a job offer in hand, had already visited the Big Apple a couple times and completed an internship in NYC. (Plus, Trini food is a lot easier to find there than down south, with the exception of Miami...)
"Why are you moving to London? ... You'll miss NYC. You know there's more crime in London, don't you?"
But the place felt more personal, and once you got to know someone, even the reserved English, they were (likely) your friends for life.
"Why did you move to Glasgow? ... You'll miss London. The place is a lot ... erm, less Caribbean up there, you know."
But the locals are even friendlier and the city more walkable.
And so on and so forth. But when will I be having this conversation again? And will the reasons and justifications eventually become rationalisations and weak excuses? With each city I leave, I also leave behind friends and acquaintances whom I still visit when time/money/energy permit.
Back at my old place, closer to the Clyde, I once shared a lift with an elderly gentleman who had lived in various cities all over Africa and Europe (and was complaining about the manners of the couple just in front of us who had grabbed the lift and gone -- further adding to the anxiety of this new Glaswegian!). The Russian shopkeeper down the street has lived 16 years in Paris, 16 in London and just over 2 years here in Glasgow -- he does, however, have family living with him, or close by, I believe. So moving more than a few times doesn't have to preclude putting down roots, establishing yourself in the society, feeling part of the place (for once?).
Luckily, there are things to do in the West End (besides go to the many bars and clubs) so with any luck I will get in where I fit in soon enough.
It was easy to answer "probably not", given that programming, software and the web hadn't really taken off in the Caribbean yet.
"I heard you're moving to New York ... oh, for work. Lot less laid back there, you know."
Another easy one -- I had a job offer in hand, had already visited the Big Apple a couple times and completed an internship in NYC. (Plus, Trini food is a lot easier to find there than down south, with the exception of Miami...)
"Why are you moving to London? ... You'll miss NYC. You know there's more crime in London, don't you?"
But the place felt more personal, and once you got to know someone, even the reserved English, they were (likely) your friends for life.
"Why did you move to Glasgow? ... You'll miss London. The place is a lot ... erm, less Caribbean up there, you know."
But the locals are even friendlier and the city more walkable.
And so on and so forth. But when will I be having this conversation again? And will the reasons and justifications eventually become rationalisations and weak excuses? With each city I leave, I also leave behind friends and acquaintances whom I still visit when time/money/energy permit.
Back at my old place, closer to the Clyde, I once shared a lift with an elderly gentleman who had lived in various cities all over Africa and Europe (and was complaining about the manners of the couple just in front of us who had grabbed the lift and gone -- further adding to the anxiety of this new Glaswegian!). The Russian shopkeeper down the street has lived 16 years in Paris, 16 in London and just over 2 years here in Glasgow -- he does, however, have family living with him, or close by, I believe. So moving more than a few times doesn't have to preclude putting down roots, establishing yourself in the society, feeling part of the place (for once?).
Luckily, there are things to do in the West End (besides go to the many bars and clubs) so with any luck I will get in where I fit in soon enough.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Out here on my own :-)
I was invited to a friend's wedding, and was also asked to be the best man. The wedding was in Shimla, so I carried my camera. Click the pic for the general touristy pics :
But I noticed something that I miss when I am in Glasgow. I blended in like nothing. Here, even in a city that's becoming multi-ethnic, multi-lingual and (supposedly) multi-cultural, I get stared at quite a bit. Shimla's quite smaller, and I was all right there -- or at least unnoticeable compared to the priest with whom I went touristing around Shimla town centre. Tallish guy with white hair and white skin. And I was the one with the camera!
I guess with the staring in Glasgow also comes the question, "do I belong here? will I belong here in time?" Last Sunday I returned from London and was waiting on a bus back to the West End. The 62 eventually came along and these teenagers (twentysomethings?) got off the bus, the first yelling something random as he disembarked -- frightening the old lady in front of me, who let out a surprised "ohh!". The guy behind the yeller said something meant to be apologetic like "kids today" with a knowing grin. I rolled my eyes. "Welcome back to the Land of the Nutters", I told myself. Although to be honest, that place isn't really Glasgow so much as the front of Central Station (especially as the evening arrives) -- I usually avoid the place myself.
But I have had a hard time trying to put the stereotype of Scottish people as joyful noisemakers to rest (see old post about previous flat). The barber at the south end of the station had told me Scots take stuff less seriously and I think I took that to heart -- meaning consideration for others as well. Although noticing people keeping doors open for others behind them did give me pause. And it does help to be a part of some groups off Meetup.com since I have met many quiet Scottish people there.
And then, too, I've only been here about 15 months, so I guess I'll have to do my time. No shortcuts to feeling a part of a town... especially when it's in the UK and you don't drink much or follow the footy...
*resigned sigh* Well, London's only 400 miles away.
But I noticed something that I miss when I am in Glasgow. I blended in like nothing. Here, even in a city that's becoming multi-ethnic, multi-lingual and (supposedly) multi-cultural, I get stared at quite a bit. Shimla's quite smaller, and I was all right there -- or at least unnoticeable compared to the priest with whom I went touristing around Shimla town centre. Tallish guy with white hair and white skin. And I was the one with the camera!
I guess with the staring in Glasgow also comes the question, "do I belong here? will I belong here in time?" Last Sunday I returned from London and was waiting on a bus back to the West End. The 62 eventually came along and these teenagers (twentysomethings?) got off the bus, the first yelling something random as he disembarked -- frightening the old lady in front of me, who let out a surprised "ohh!". The guy behind the yeller said something meant to be apologetic like "kids today" with a knowing grin. I rolled my eyes. "Welcome back to the Land of the Nutters", I told myself. Although to be honest, that place isn't really Glasgow so much as the front of Central Station (especially as the evening arrives) -- I usually avoid the place myself.
But I have had a hard time trying to put the stereotype of Scottish people as joyful noisemakers to rest (see old post about previous flat). The barber at the south end of the station had told me Scots take stuff less seriously and I think I took that to heart -- meaning consideration for others as well. Although noticing people keeping doors open for others behind them did give me pause. And it does help to be a part of some groups off Meetup.com since I have met many quiet Scottish people there.
And then, too, I've only been here about 15 months, so I guess I'll have to do my time. No shortcuts to feeling a part of a town... especially when it's in the UK and you don't drink much or follow the footy...
*resigned sigh* Well, London's only 400 miles away.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
A post about being too busy, or not creative enough, to post
Does creativity come from boredom? Having your mind switched off, away from TV, instant messaging, BlackBerrys[R]/iPhones[R] long enough for your muse to work?
My head ached from watching screens all week, but maybe it also ached from lack of stimulation -- boring admin-style work, from just surfing the net when I got home, and from not playing music almost daily like I used to do, a few years ago.
I played for half hour today, reading from sheet music, playing new music (badly) and picking tunes as I went. The relief, while not immediate and complete, was there. What a sight I must have been, sounding out notes, going back and playing phrases again, wincing at that not-quite-right chord ... but hearing the song go by in my head, melody and harmony waiting for my fingers to hit the chord and then feeding me the next phrase. And that was as close as I got to that stereotype of the artist, painting/drawing/singing/dancing as the muse whispers in his/her ear. :-)
Time to search for some classical music concerts / piano recitals in Glasgow then...
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Be it ever so humble, there was...
I moved westward.
I got tired of walking at least 15 minutes for EVERYTHING (20 to Central Station, 25 in other direction for PC World, 25 minutes to the GFT, 40 minutes to Buchanan Galleries, 30 minutes to St Enoch subway station -- and the West End). And passing under the Kingston Bridge each time. Dodging the cars turning off Stobcross Road (or Argyle Street) down towards the Broomielaw. Walking home with a backache (when I had one). Having tall industrial buildings, empty lots and that damn ALEA sign be my only company usually. Nothing but a SPAR (supermarket) close by. Sure there was ALEA, Nando's, bowling, bingo and others -- across the Clyde. Noisy neighbours upstairs dropping stuff and having people over and laughing away the day (and sometimes the night). And the police (bless'em) coming by every so often. I saw the notice about "lewd acts have been captured on CCTV and we just want to remind all residents that..." and all I could do was roll my eyes.
But still, I do miss it a little. Because it still used to be home, if only just for a year.
Happy one-week movingout-anniversary to me.
I got tired of walking at least 15 minutes for EVERYTHING (20 to Central Station, 25 in other direction for PC World, 25 minutes to the GFT, 40 minutes to Buchanan Galleries, 30 minutes to St Enoch subway station -- and the West End). And passing under the Kingston Bridge each time. Dodging the cars turning off Stobcross Road (or Argyle Street) down towards the Broomielaw. Walking home with a backache (when I had one). Having tall industrial buildings, empty lots and that damn ALEA sign be my only company usually. Nothing but a SPAR (supermarket) close by. Sure there was ALEA, Nando's, bowling, bingo and others -- across the Clyde. Noisy neighbours upstairs dropping stuff and having people over and laughing away the day (and sometimes the night). And the police (bless'em) coming by every so often. I saw the notice about "lewd acts have been captured on CCTV and we just want to remind all residents that..." and all I could do was roll my eyes.
But still, I do miss it a little. Because it still used to be home, if only just for a year.
Happy one-week movingout-anniversary to me.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Random thought #123
"How did you celebrate your birthday?" .... errrr, I went to work and had an extra bit of chocolate from the vending machine?
The thing about birthdays -- and most other major calendar events e.g. New Year's Day -- passing me by mostly uncelebrated is there is no forced evaluation of where I am in my life (more than normal anyway) hence no feelings of regret/disappointment when I realise a year has passed and certain aspects of my life still aren't "up to scratch".
When you're one of those people who can't switch their minds off, life planning is for a quiet weekend or impromptu lunch time walk, not so?
The thing about birthdays -- and most other major calendar events e.g. New Year's Day -- passing me by mostly uncelebrated is there is no forced evaluation of where I am in my life (more than normal anyway) hence no feelings of regret/disappointment when I realise a year has passed and certain aspects of my life still aren't "up to scratch".
When you're one of those people who can't switch their minds off, life planning is for a quiet weekend or impromptu lunch time walk, not so?
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