Including today, I have only nine full days before I head back to Tallahassee. That place seems a million miles away, like it's not my life, like I don't belong there. I don't, and I never have. This place has always been home. I just didn't know it until now.
On Thursday, C* and I have an appointment with an advisor at the Citizen's Advice Bureau to talk about the steps I can/need to take to come here permanently. It's not going to be as easy as I once thought.
I looked at the web site of the immigration office for the United Kingdom the other night. I can apply to come here as a fiancee, but the application has to be accompanied by all kinds of documentation including C*'s passport, a copy of his lease, a statement of our intentions to marry, financial statements, proof of employability, etc., etc., etc. The fee is $1,050, and the money is nonrefundable even if my visa is denied. If it's accepted, I can live here for a maximum of six months before we have to be married, and I can't work until we tie the knot.
C* putting new front brakes on his car at his mum's house:
I've been applying for jobs this past week, and I think my chances of finding a job here are pretty good. I have a college degree and loads of professional work experience, and smart people tend to leave the Highlands for better jobs in bigger cities. I really like it here, though, which is good considering we'd be here for 5 years minimum. This place is really decent for a small city. It has a nice downtown with a city feel yet there are great country walks and drives not far away.
Boats on the Seine - photo taken by C*:
a-z of the 90s is on the TV right now, music videos of popular and not-so-popular songs from that decade. I'm starting to get sad knowing that I'm going to be leaving here and that I won't be with C* again for months and months. Worried that my visa will be denied. Worried that what I want rests in the hands of some fucking stranger in New York City. Perhaps I'm being too negative. Why should my application be denied?
Bridge in the woods, Cawdor Castle:
I talked to my brother the other day. He told me that my dad was rushed to the hospital the other day with weird heart problems. It turned out that one of his chambers was beating ultra fast, out of time with the others. The doctor said that in 95 percent of these types of cases, there is something else wrong with the heart, some kind of more serious problem. But, in his case, the doctor said, he should be fine. He didn't find any other problems.
My dad was put on medication and will be reevaluated in six months. Instead of being happy at hearing that my dad will be OK, I was disappointed. What a weird feeling. To be disappointed that my father isn't on his last legs. I'm not just being adolescently morbid here. I was actually disappointed. I still am. I think I need to go back into therapy.
The beach at Loch Ness:
Did ZZ Top really have a song, much less a video, in the 90s? Viva Las Vegas. God help us all.
A trunk in the woods, Cawdor Castle:
My dad and I haven't talked since last September. That's when he called to find out how I did on the LSAT and found it highly amusing that I spent $500 and studied my butt off only to do so poorly on the test. He. Was. Laughing. That's when I informed him that I didn't exist for his amusement and that I was really, really tired of him treating me like he does. That's the day he hung up on me (again) after informing me that he wasn't ever going to talk to me again (again). Since then, there's been a Thanksgiving, his birthday, a Christmas, a New Year's, my step-mom's birthday, my birthday, Mother's Day. Not a single phone call in either direction, though they still sent the yearly Christmas card and $200 check - the same thing I've gotten each year since I turned 18. We could have no communication for the entire year, and I'd still get the card, a corporate-type boxed card they send to everyone, and the check. There's no thought put into it on their end, and it has never meant anything to me.
My step-mother had a birthday in March. My brother lives a 10-minute drive from our parents and had a birthday card to give to her. He called to find out when a good time would be to come over that day, and our father informed him that he should mail the card instead because they were hosting a birthday party for her at their house with all their friends. Mail the card. Because there was going to be a birthday party. For his mom. At his parents' house. He wasn't invited. Am I the only who thinks this is weird?
Paris - photo taken by C*:
Every time they shun him, which is often, his feelings are hurt. That makes me very, very mad. It also makes me mad that they are willing to fly to Virginia to stay with my dad's other son, the one he didn't raise, and his wife and their daughter. They do it several times a year and have photos of their grandchild all over the house. But my dad can be in Tallahassee and not even take 10 minutes out of his schedule to see me. It has happened. Oh, yes. It has.
An alley in Paris - photo taken by C*:
I can't stand him. Or her. I wish they'd fall in the water on one of the two cruises they take each year and never be heard from again.
Hm. I think I definitely need more counselling.
Oscar Wilde's grave, Paris - photo taken by C*:
In other news: my ex-boyfriend and now ex-friend
got married last month. Good for them. Seriously, I'm actually happy for them. Everyone has their match, and I'm glad they found each other. I didn't send a gift, but, then again, they didn't tell me about the wedding. I heard it from the father of ex-friend's kids. He gave them a dinner cruise as a gift.
Paris view - photo taken by C*:
Time to get moving for the day. Thank you for listening. : )