It occurred to me recently, as I listened to my "Harvard Business Review" podcast, that I clearly have not embraced the ways and means of my host country. I religiously watch Sky+ TV tapings of the "Daily Show with John Stewart", devour my weekly international edition (I use this term loosely) of Time magazine, and have lately been spending an inordinate amount of time listening to the Allman Brothers. I beg Andrew to take me to Costco's so I can stock up on the American products I long for, like Skippy peanut butter and Chicken of the Sea solid white tuna (though I note that I've had to compromise on the brands, since the ones I prefer are not available even at Costco, but close enough). It seems I am the embodiment of the stereotypical immigrant: the snivelling, obdurate emigre who comes to live and work in a new land yet refuses to assimilate. I can only now fully appreciate why adults who move abroad cling to the features, sounds and images of their home country; I suppose it's only natural. I realize we are most happy with and comforted by the things on which we were raised and are most familiar, and if I had been born here I would crave and seek that which I currently find not so much to my taste.
Although we bought it in November, we didn't actually move into our new house until the end of January. And I mean house: no more flats or apartments; we've got ourselves a lovely four bedroom, mid-terraced Victorian home. We had wanted it to be 'ready' before moving in, but soon realized that making a home, especially with a 100-odd year old house, is a work in progress, probably up until you eventually move out again. I do love the place, but it feels a bit like we're living in someone else's house. Musty odors and creaky noises challenge my senses and test our skills to either eradicate or adapt to them. But I am thrilled to now be a UK homeowner, and for Andrew and me to make our house our own, warts and all.
Not sure why I chose to write about a card game on 1 January 2009 (below), so I thought I'd top up my blog with a great big shout out to everyone: Happy New Year! Wishing you love, peace and happiness.
Lately, I've developed a nasty little habit of playing solitaire on my ipod, almost incessantly. Of course I understand completely that this simple form of entertainment keeps me from more lofty pursuits such as reading, writing or, say, playing a musical instrument. However, I've discovered some key principles coming out of this practice, the first one being, er, the importance of practice. By playing the game regularly and repeatedly, I've learned a great deal about how to improve my game. Not from reading about it, or because someone showed me, just from practicing. Something to keep in mind when engaged in doing more essential work. Secondly, I've learned not to regret anything. In the game's programme, you have the opportunity to 'restart' the game after losing, and I've found that playing the game again didn't change the outcome. In life, forget 'what if' and stick to what you are doing; don't bother with wanting to start over! Lastly, and perhaps harder to pinpoint the broader application, it is important to differentiate among the suits and colors; by blurring the lines in your mind, you miss the right moves and your progress in the game may be stalled. So look carefully and know where things fit in the world. Play on!
I had a wonderful evening with my work colleagues at our Christmas party this past Friday. We floated in a barge on the Manchester Ship Canal, enjoyed a good meal, good company and a bit of drink and karaoke. It was festive and fun. I suppose I brought that good feeling with me to sleep because that night I dreamed I was with my work colleagues again and we were making honey, just by clapping our hands. In my dream I thought, if we could make honey just by clapping our hands, then indeed anything is possible! What a fantastic, uplifting thing to imagine. I remember having the same feeling on another occasion: I was in the car with my friend Roya, when I saw a bumper sticker on a van which said something to the effect of, "yes, even you can train to become a carpenter". At that moment it occurred to me that, yes, even I could be a carpenter if I so desired; anything is possible!
