actuality.log

I barely got any sleep over the weekend, and nearly all my time awake was spent having fun. It began with a concert (where I was the only non-white person in the crowd!) on Friday evening and ended on my couch in the wee hours of Monday morn over an episode of Nip/Tuck along with my friends. The events in between are still a bit fuzzy in my mind, but I remember it being a blast.

When I was first contemplating coming to Scandinavia over a year ago now, I thought of the move as a very temporary step. Like it was some unpleasant detour I needed to take before I proceeded with the actual course of my life—where I’d have interesting and fun things to do, where I’d form bonds with like-minded people, where I’d feel peaceful and relaxed… but the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that I already have all these things. Right here, right now. This place has been good to me. The people I get to be with are warm and friendly. Work is interesting and relaxed. I spend a lot more time doing fun things—including activities outdoors. I eat healthier. I feel healthier. I make more money, and I live a lot better.

But why am I bringing any of this up now? I think it’s because the chance I have to go to Cambridge has resurfaced again, and I am not convinced I should leave all of this behind.

Even if it is a fancy uni. Even if everyone there speaks English by default. And even if the population there is a lot more diverse.

I shot a small series while hanging out with some friends late last evening. With its old school colours and comfortable ambience, I kinda like how it turned out.

hlea. I’m having difficulty focusing on the live band.

I’m pointing this out only because it hasn’t happened before: I’m writing this entry drunk. It’s about four in the wee morn and I just hobbled back home. I had a fun evening out—one that began with a viewing of the latest comic book-turned motion picture extravaganza, “Watchmen.” Overall, I really liked it and thought the copious shots of naked male bums and proud glowey penises were well done.

My silence has belied it, but I’ve been doing a lot more adult-y things with my life lately. I’ve been entertaining guests at home, hanging-out later at bars and inviting people over afterwards. It’s like for the first time in my life, I’m not embarrassed about how I live it. And that’s made me comfortable with the notion of sharing it.

It’s not like anything has fundamentally changed, it’s just that life has become more fun to navigate after moving here. With everything being so laid back, I have all the time in the world to focus on whatever catches my fancy. Without guilt.

Of course, with all that leisure time and substance-induced inhibition reduction, my mind often tends to revert to its core state. And rather than explicitly spell out to you what I mean by that for the 400^th time, I leave you with the following metaphor.

Most of the buses and trains in this city have an approximately equal number of seats that face forward and back. I’ve been keeping some notes over this past couple of weeks, and guess what? Given a choice, 98% of the people choose a forward-facing seat from which they can see where the bus is going.

I always pick a seat that faces backwards.

Just peeking out, it’s hard to miss the characteristically cheery vocal intonation and the sudden dearth of distinctive facial features—I must be back in Scandinavia!

It appears I’ve returned home in one piece (accidentally leaving my 3 mW phone on during the flight didn’t mess with the plane’s navigation system or cause it to crash!) after weathering a week in Paris. I chose to go with the verb “weathered” because the entire experience—while admittedly exciting—was remarkably draining. Intellectually, I had much to do there which kept me occupied for a large chunk of my time. I spent the rest gallivanting between the usual tourist spots and tagging along with friendly locals to some of the more intimate nooks hidden-away in the city. Apart from a couple of exquisite pieces at the museums, it was getting to experience these little gems—the tiny, crowded pubs heavy on the attitude and the atmosphere-rich cafés that were the highlight of my trip.

All in all, I have to admit that good times were had. It’s just, since there’s still so much to see and experience, I’m going to have to plan multiple trips back if I ever intend on scratching beneath the surface. Some months just for soaking in the plethora of art, another couple for relishing the various shows, even more for sampling the variety of local fare, … I clearly enjoy places rich in history, culture and character (even if the locals aren’t the friendliest when you first get to meet them).

I better start saving if I ever intend on pulling this off. And I also have to start spacing things out a little better. This past week, each of my days began 7ish in the morn and proceeded until 3–4 the subsequent morn. I’m barely able to stay up as I write this; I really need to get some sleep.

Boy am I fucking old.

I spent all of last week in Germany—my maiden trip out exploring Europe since I first moved here. I am pleased to report that my EU visa works, and I was freely able to country hop. About three-quarters of my time was spent in a teeny-tiny town called Oberwolfach (at the MFO, a fairly renowned mathematics institute) and the last two nights were with a good friend of mine from grad school.

All in all, I had a wonderful time.

After flying into Germany, I got to experience first-hand their ultra-efficient train system, which allowed me to systematically (and quickly, like 250+ km/h quickly!) get from Frankfurt to the teeny town without needing any hand-holding. I got to try out some of my broken German from language courses so long a go. I was also lucky to see their countryside and experience small town charm at its finest.

The institute was a remarkably serene place; purposefully built in the middle of nowhere to avoid being bombed during the Second World War. I got to meet a lot of interesting people in my field as well as my former boss. The food was authentic, rich and varied. The discussion just varied. Having no TVs or Internet access (or even locks!), the spartan (but fully functional) rooms at the institute encouraged people to be out interacting. The meeting itself was informal and free form—exemplified by one session running late into the night causing a ruckus from the sleepy crowd.

While my work obligations were to keep me at the MFO until yesterday, I skipped out a little earlier to head out to Stuttgart to be with a friend—who too had decided on a post-doc in Europe after finishing her stint at the uni. It was a blast being with her again, and we were able to explore the town, sampling some of the finer things it had to offer—courtesy of a (very elaborate and crowded) wine festival!

Now, after a surprisingly exhausting week of arguing with older Italian gentlemen about select terms in obscure equations, figuring out the German transport system, extremely fun and eventful evenings running late into their subsequent morns, I am finally flying back home. Relaxed and rejuvenated, with a definite plan forward and some neat research ideas to pursue.

I have no better words to explain things than to say, “I’ve fallen into a sort of anti-routine.” Much of how my life goes on now seems to be entirely contrary to how things were when I was in grad school. For starters, I’m spending a lot more time outdoors—socialising, hiking, playing, shooting pictures.

Crazier still, much of my time at work also seems to be spent socialising and laying down plans for further fun after work and on the weekends! The only times I’ve seemed to have gotten any real work done are the few days I’ve forcibly isolated myself at home. And this has been necessary from time to time, for the world has gone entirely topsy-turvy: Work stuff isn’t trivial any more. Much of what I’m looking at right now I haven’t delved into before, requiring quite a bit of catching up.

Either way, what I guess I started off trying to say is that I’ve fallen into a routine here. And even if it the specifics of this routine starkly contrast how things were before, constancy is not the best inspiration for me to write—explaining the recent silence.

May be I should just get irked enough about the ghetto neighbourhood I’m temporarily domiciled in, so I can entertain you better. Or at least, try to with greater frequency.

you wouldn’t dress like that.

I’ve been wanting to pen this for a while now, but I’ve been too busy… having fun!

I arrived here expecting things to be cold. And by that, I don’t mean the temperature outside (that I can handle, given my training over these past years)—I expected the people to be very cold. I thought I was going to be isolated and end up lonely and miserable. Truth be told, I almost wanted things to be that way, so that it would hasten my move to England.

But alas, it wasn’t to be.

I really like this place and it’s people. Everybody is warm and helpful, and they make it a point to drag you into whatever shenanigans they’re aiming to pull. Consequently, I too have begun leaving work early, and most of my evenings and all of my weekends have been packed with fun activities. In fact, I probably didn’t go to sleep at all last weekend, choosing instead to attend one party late Saturday, which sort of lasted until late Sunday… around which time the next one began!

There are definitely some perks to the sun not setting.

(Not getting yelled at by the cops for disorderly conduct at 4 a.m. is not one of them.)

I need to get going now. I’m joining a group of people for the awesome does of fun that is frisbee golf; an ingenious sport that replaces the dullness of golf with the hilarity of athletically-challenged science dorks trying to throw things over long distances!

I awoke last night in a cold sweat.

Actually, I awoke once many nights ago but I’ve just been too lazy to write about it. In fact, I wasn’t even in a cold sweat at the time—I just threw that in there for effect.

Like I was saying…

I awoke in a panic late last night, extremely conscious of my own singleness. After unsuccessfully racking my brain for the thoughts that concluded in my anxiety attack, I promptly shifted my focus to how I was going to remedy my situation.

And that’s when it started: I began cataloguing the list of people in my life I’ve genuinely been attracted to (at one point or another).

Now, I don’t have a really clear idea how that intellectual exercise helped me, but I’m now desperate to know from them the answer to the obvious question: “Are you married/betrothed/taken… or aren’t you?” And so, I’ve decided to take the bold step of just asking them. I intend on doing this via e-mail because that makes it all cold and impersonal, just ripe for this sort of occasion.

I think it’s going to read something like this:

Dear Admiree,

I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you, but never the guts to tell you so.

Hoping I’m not too late,
Me

Of course, there are some shady aspects to this plan. In particular:

1. I intend on sending this same letter to about three different women.
2. In every instance, I’d be utterly devastated if I were to find out they’ve moved-on with their lives and want to have nothing to do with me. And this is where I believe my great plan falls apart.

In any event, I think the reason I’m bringing this up here is because I want to run it by you first. Just what would you do if something like this arrived at your doorstep?