They Said Never in Your Wildest Dreams

Today marks an official year since I left New York for London.
Hard to believe.

It’s been a rollercoaster, but it has proven to be the best decision I’ve ever made.

Here are my top 10 highlights from the past year in London:

1. The entire beginning, the magic of starting a new life in a new country, the excitement and anticipation of everything to come. It was always a dream, and the challenge of keeping it a reality proved to be an adventure in itself.

2. Moving into my house with people from all over the world, signing my first lease, and finally having a place to base my life here, a place to come home to instead of taking the last train back to Kent where I was staying (even though I was lucky to be staying there at first). It made everything feel a bit more permanent. Even if I didn’t have any sheets for a few months.

3. Finding a job at Jiq Jaq, the art gallery where I spent my first year as a marketing executive/promotional writer. Days in the gallery brought some interesting acquaintances and I also met some great new friends. Marketing wasn’t my first choice, but it was an excellent first job to have, putting together an art catalogue, writing letters and email ad campaigns, learning about the art world and being surrounded by colour. Not to mention the glory of that first salaried paycheck when my bank account was dry as the Sahara.

4. Obtaining my British passport and making my dual citizenship official. The day it came in the mail was the day I knew I could keep my dream alive, even if I ever did have to go home for a while. It was the moment I knew I could always come back and work here with no restrictions. Here, and anywhere in the EU.

5. My recent week of work experience at The Sunday Times was definitely a highlight. It brought back the rush of exhilaration that comes from being in a newsroom and solidified my goals of being involved in journalism. With the task of calling high profile people and researching for future stories, I made quite a few great new contacts and received some excellent advice from the people on the news review desk.

6. Having my first article published in a magazine. I had articles published in newspapers, but Graffiti was the first magazine to let my words grace its pages. It has since changed its name to Art in London, but it is still the same. Seeing my article title on the front cover and four pages of my work and some images in the center as a feature was another rush. Also, becoming the arts and culture editor for a new Vancouver-based magazine project, Haute, and an invitation to be a sub-editor for Seven Magazine.

7. Summer festivals. I was lucky enough to go to both Isle of Wight and Reading festivals this summer. In fact, they were my first camping festivals ever. I’ve always been a huge Smashing Pumpkins fan so being a few feet from the stage with an enormous crowd pushing from behind me when I saw them at Reading for the first time ever was unbeatable. Not to mention Rolling Stones who headlined Isle of Wight, some sunshine, a little bus trip to the English Channel “beach”, good company, dance tents, campfires and fish and chips. Also, though it wasn’t a festival, a trip to Brighton that caused much fun and frolicking on a cold beach and ended up with arcade games, tea and donuts.

8. Love. Meeting S. He’s been there for me since the beginning, making sure I had everything I needed when I moved into my house, spending money on my happiness left and right, moving in with me, making me laugh, taking me to new places and introducing me to a whole plethora of new friends. Not to mention being supportive of my dreams and booking a three day holiday in Budapest for my birthday with a double deluxe room and a private Jacuzzi. So maybe I’m spoiled.

9. The general awesomeness of London, which includes all of the free gigs I’ve been to, the new bands I’ve discovered, the amazing people who have become great friends, the culture, the fact that there’s always something going on, the tube and its usefulness, all of the exhibitions I’ve seen, the beauty of the parks that let you escape from the city noise, the shopping and the markets, the fire pit we built in our backyard for barbeques and parties, the social life, the fact that we have two almost tame foxes living in our back garden the food from all over the world, the new magazines and books I’ve discovered, etc. I am deeply in love with this city. After a year, it’s still just as fantastic and I don’t plan on leaving any time soon.

10. Finally feeling like I’ve made London my home. Also, being lucky enough to be able to visit my other home back in New York twice in this one year. I will always be tossed between the two, I think, but the fact that they both now feel like home makes me quite lucky, don’t you think?

It's Getting Haute in Here

I suppose I’m not much of a role model for the green movement having flown across the ocean five times in the past year, but when you have a home on both sides of the world and five of your friends get together to buy you a plane ticket for Christmas, it’s hard to turn it down. This is part of my excuse for not updating in a month. I spent about three and a half weeks in New York reacquainting myself with snow and the bitter chill of Niagara Falls in winter.
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My friend D came over from London for nine days. It’s the first time I brought a piece of my London life into my New York life rather than the other way around. He said it gave him a lot of insight into the mysterious other half of my life (which really isn’t all that mysterious at all, only different). Besides enjoying the company of family and friends, D and I built a short-lived snowman named Pierre and documented his existence. He was a French snowman, slightly angry, with a lot of attitude. Sadly, he was quickly destroyed by his archenemy, Sun.
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RIP Pierre.
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Another highlight of my trip home was movie nights with my mom to see Juno, a hilarious and heartwarming story about a cheeky pregnant teenager who decides to put her child up for adoption. The story evolves around her relationship with the couple who is set to adopt her child and her high school experience as The Pregnant Girl.
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We also saw The Kite Runner, the controversial film based on Khaled Hosseini’s number one best-selling novel. It was one of the best books I’ve ever read, highly recommended. As always, the book was better, offering more details, but the movie was quite good as well. Plus, I’m a sucker for subtitles. I love em. The actual story is about a boyhood friendship in Afghanistan that falls apart after one boy is raped and the other witnessed it but didn’t have the courage to stop it. Excellent story with a twist at the end: the best kind of story.
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My dad and I spent some time up in Canada at Niagara-on-the-Lake, I was taken out to dinner a few times, played a lot of pool with my brother and scrabble with my gram, celebrated New Years, Christmas and my 24th birthday. All around, an excellent three weeks. Plus, when my brother comes to London in February we’re planning a trip to Amsterdam and our parents surprised us by offering to pay for our flight, hostel and a QPR football game back in London.
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When I came back to London, S told me what my birthday present will be: he’s booked flights and a nice hotel in Budapest for us over Easter weekend! Awesome boyfriend I have, no?
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There goes that carbon footprint again… but I think to discover other cultures and gain a greater understanding of the world or reconnect with family at home, it is worth it. What is life with out travel or family?
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My other excuse for not updating in a while is that I’ve been enjoying a work experience on the news review desk at The Sunday Times all week. Excellent opportunity. I met some great people, made a lot of phone calls and did a lot of research. Mainly, I got to see what a typical day is like in the newsroom. Quite honestly, it’s just a larger scale of The Leader where I used to work. And I still love the energy that comes from being in a newsroom, the constantly changing stories and topics. It’s magnetic and I know it’s where I want to be.
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Friday was my last day. Eleanor Mills, the news editor, said to me, “So, are you ready to be immersed in the giant newsroom of a paper like The Sunday Times?” “I would absolutely love it!”
“Usually by Friday people who come in for the week are overwhelmed and can’t wait to get out of here.”
“Really? If anything, it made me want to do journalism more.”
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I was told to keep in touch with ideas and come back anytime for more. I’d love to. But money is good too, so I’m off to do a bit more job hunting.

First, in more exciting news, Zin has finished the final version of the very first issue of Haute. Here’s a bit of it - the beginning and my article. I’m going to continue to be Culture Editor and am really looking forward to putting together the next issue. We’ve been brainstorming for topics and general story ideas - always exciting. Here's a more readable version and the rest of the articles!
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Reviving a Melody

It has been almost 10 years since my fingers last coaxed a melody from piano keys. Ten years since I tried to look at a line of music notes and already hear them in my head.

For 11 years, all through my childhood, my grandmother gave my brother and I piano lessons. It started when I was 3-years-old. I had to sit on a cushion placed on top of the piano seat so I could see properly. I played every day. And then, when I turned 14, I just stopped.
I stopped because I was too cool for piano. I wanted to play sports instead. I didn't appreciate it.

And then, as I got a bit older, I started to regret that decision. When I went to my grandma's house, I'd sit and listen to her play, watch her wrinkled fingers with perfectly manicured nails skip over the keys effortlessly while she closed her eyes. It was as if she was listening to someone else play Handel or Bach, as if her hands were not her own.

So many times, I almost asked her to teach me again, but I was nervous I'd forgotten everything she ever taught me and what a shame it would be if that turned out to be the truth. So I never touched her piano again. Not one note.

S came home last night with a box. A big box. He set it on my bed and tore it open, pulled out bubble wrap and soft packing material. Then he pulled out a keyboard. He said he wanted to learn how to play and his grandma had it stored away for years and she just gave it to him.

He sat on my bed and started playing random notes and chords, trying to hit the right note. When he plays bass or guitar, he doesn't really read music, he plays by ear, working it out from songs he plays on his laptop. I watched.

Then I saw a book. It was yellowed, ripped a bit and curled at the edges. I pulled it from the box and opened it, releasing a puff of air that tasted of stale cigarettes. It was a simple beginner's book with no chords and only the treble clef. Songs like Silent Night, Yankee Doodle, Oh, My Darlin' Clementine.

While S played, I studied the lines of simple music in the book and closed my eyes trying to remember how to read music. A few minutes later, he left to take some stuff to his mom's and said, “You have a go.”

When I heard the front door close, I put my fingers on the keys and I looked at the book. It came rushing back to me and I went through the entire simple book, playing every song so easily I surprised myself.

I took out my laptop and searched for free sheet music. I wanted to see if I could find some chords, some music with the bass clef, a little challenge. When S came back, I was working through a more difficult version of Silent Night, with chords on both hands. It all came back to me. I had to stop and think about the really high or low notes and I was still really rusty, but I know if I started practising again, I would be able to get back to where I was at 14.

Those 11 years of lessons haven't gone to waste.

James, the Mac and Cheese Mouse

A few days ago, I had a rare London moment: eye contact and a smile from a stranger on the underground. *Gasp*
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It was at Euston Station, walking toward the stairs that led up from the platform. A woman and I were walking side by side, each in our own “can't-wait-to-get-home-from-work” mindset when all of a sudden, a furry body scurried in front of us, stopping us dead in our tracks. Hence the look and smile before continuing up the stairs.
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The mouse wasn't rare, of course. They sniff and scuttle along the rails all day and night. From afar they're sort of cute. In fact, it came to our attention that we even have one in our house. This is fine when we hear him squeaking from invisible mouse-sized crevices in the kitchen walls. We even gave him a name: James. But last night, James came into sight for the first time and that was not okay. James should stay hidden if he's going to live with us. That was our unspoken agreement.
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C told me about a shop called The Rosslyn Delicatessen on Roslyn Hill in Hampstead just a short walk from where I work. They stock all sorts of American food and have been voted Best Deli the past three years in a row. Bonus: They're located practically across the street from the award-winning and delicious Hampstead Creperie.
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Anyway, I bought some graham cracker pie crust, Kraft mac & cheese, authentic Buffalo wing sauce, some A&W vanilla cream soda, and some Aunt Jemima's pancake mix. When I got home, I left the mac & cheese on the counter intending to make it when S came back from the gym.
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Back to James.
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It was, oh, around 10pm when I decided it would be a good time to start cooking. I walked in the kitchen and James emerged from a corner of the counter sniffing at the air, little paws held up like he was praying...and ran straight across the stove and dove in a gap between it and the counter on the other side. I froze and walked slowly backwards into my room and shut the door behind me.
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James has crossed the line.
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In fact, yesterday was not a good day for being home. Not just because of James and his sneaky appearances on the kitchen counter, but because the heating broke and we all sat around frigid in Arctic conditions with bundles of clothes and blankets. Not exactly conducive to doing much of anything but curling up with a good book, which is exactly what I did.
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But first, I had to make a cup of tea. I walked into the kitchen wearing two hoodies. One of them had fur around the hood, which I was wearing because it was That Cold. It earned me a new nickname from H. I am now The Stephskimo. Cute.
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Here's hoping the heating is fixed tonight and James is tucked safely away in a little crevice and doesn't decide to make any surprise appearances.
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In other news, I have been invited to participate in a week long work experience under Eleanor Mills, the News Review editor at the Sunday Times.

A Website, A Job, and An Opportunity

Since I've last written, quite a bit has happened. It started when I found out the gallery is closing. Turns out, this is great because I need something more challenging and stimulating anyway. Perfect motivator.

First I got S to teach me how to build a website using just HTML and Notepad. I know there are programs like Dreamweaver and FrontPage, but I like to know how things work and it turns out it's not so difficult. I spent the next few days creating a website that employers can use to see some of my clips and my CV. If you care to see, it's live now at http://www.abowlofcherries.co.uk/.

I also tossed my CV up on Gumtree, which turned out to be a great move. First, I found out that Marc, the editor of Seven Magazine is looking for some help. I wrote about Seven a while back and Marc found the entry and left me a comment. Since then, we've been in touch on and off through email.

Well, I met with him a few days ago and he offered me a position as Sub-Editor for the magazine, something I can do from home on nights and weekends. I love this because Seven is something I really believe in. It's a magazine/website that looks seriously at issues on all seven continents (hence the name) and also at the culture, arts, fashion, music aspect of countries around the world.

If you know me, you know this is right up my alley.

Then I got a message from another man called Sean. We met for about 2.5 hours this morning.

He is from Ireland, has family in England and lives in Slovakia for work. He works for a blind charity in Britain. He had a friend, Brian Faul, who died of cancer who was also seriously involved with the blind charity. Apparently, this man gave up all of his appointments but the ones he had with them.

And so Sean wanted to do something in his memory. The Brian Faul Foundation is what resulted. It is almost ready to be “launched”, so to speak. As in everything is in place, it just needs to be finalized, which will happen in in the next few months.

Last week, he was browsing Gumtree and found my resume. He said he read it and then had to go make a coffee and come back and read it again. He was amused by the fact that I was American and interested in all this international stuff. What struck him were my projects – Jammin' for Jamaica and my new Traveling Mag Project, funny enough. Then he read this blog. He had asked me to send him the last entry so he could use for his English classes he teaches in Slovakia.

He works with street kids in the Ukraine among other less fortunate people in other places all over the world. What he wants this charity to do is to give people a chance who wouldn't have otherwise been given one. And he wants to do it by letting people use their talents/creativity to raise money for these projects that will benefit them.

His idea for me is to be a project manager/co-ordinator. I would come up with ideas like the Traveling Mag Project and Jammin' for Jamaica (which you can read about on my website if you're interested), ways to reach out to groups of people around the world, to connect them so they can better understand each other and to give them opportunities. I would set up and manage projects around the world, promote them, travel to the countries where they are occurring on occasion to check things out. There would be basic admin as well as I would be the link to Britain for the charity so I would answer a phone and deal with queries.

He said when he heard my ideas about the Traveling Mag Project, he asked if I would be willing to start similar projects in these different countries and he could then publish those under the name of the charity. He was very keen on the idea of asking the street kids he works with in the Ukraine to draw or write poetry in a book and then publish it and sell it and use the money to build them a shelter because, sadly, they live inhumanely in the sewers under the streets. I love that idea of redoing my project for something like that.

He couldn't offer me an official position yet until he speaks to the trustees, but he said he wants to go back to them with some ideas from me. I have a million ideas. If the trustees approve and want to meet me, I will have another inteview with one of them.

If they don't offer me a job, Sean said there's still opportunity to freelance for the Foundation.

I've also had a few emails in the past few days from different companies asking what my freelance rates are for writing marketing articles.

Now that my website is up, I'm going to use it in my applications so it will be much easier and I'm going to apply to lots more places, but I'm hoping this international projects one follows though because I think it would be awesome. And creative and stimulating and rewarding, etc.