Getting there.

Things are slowly shifting and settling, sort of like a bunch of leaves finding their place on the ground after drifting in the cold air.

I've been quite the nervous ninny since I've moved here (even for the little whie before we even moved from New York). My loved ones have borne the brunt of my wild mod swings and my inability to feel like I belong here yet. And I adore them for that. Especialy the poor, patient mister who only sees me once a week because of his schedule, and all he's gotten is a whiny Myshka, and not the Myshka that he wants and needs. Oh dear.

I know that I'm still settling in, and it'll still take me about a year to feel at home, establish some new friends and just know my way around here without using my (well-worn) copy of A-Z. For those of you who are thinking of moving to the UK, run out and grab a copy of this little book as soon as you land. It has every single street that you would ever need to find, a tube map on the back, and it's the size of your palm. Genius.

Our flat is also "settling". And by "settling" it's a nice way of me saying "every other day something falls apart and the contractors never show up to fix it, and we're paying way too much rent to have to deal with this ridiculousness". We keep fantasizing about one day in the near future when we will finally buy our own place and design it the way we want. Oh, that's so dreamy.

My job life is also settling. I finally landed one, and I start in a few days. I'm so excited, and it's a perfect role for me. And I celebrated my decision yesterday by going for a horseback ride. It is one of the best feelings in the world, to wrap my legs around a 2-ton animal and feel my body move in perfect rhythm with the horse's canter- the faster the better. It will always be one of the things that puts a huge smile on my face, and I love that exhausted feeling I have after I ride- my legs throbbing, face flushed and sweaty and being out of breath. Goodness. Take that out of context and it sounds quite sexy...haha.

Yes, things are well on their way to becoming more of a routine, which is a lovely feeling. It makes me feel like there is a method to all of this madness. And though I know that the mister tries his hardest to calm down his days but can't seem to be at home as much as he likes, my routine will also be the method to his madness. That's the kind of Myshka that the both of us need.

When the hell did it become only a month before Christmas?!?!!

I don't get how the time flies that quickly. We've been here since the beginning of October, and it has felt like ages in one respect, and milliseconds in another. And it's frightening that Christmas is around the corner and though it's my favourite holiday, I have a distinct feeling that I won't be able to appreciate it until about April. It's been a retarded whirlwind of sorts.

The mister and I haven't seen much of each other, mostly because of us working, and a lot of that work involves the mister settling into his job and spending time with people in the business that he wants to get to know better. Granted, there's a balance that we have to remind each other of, the balance of working/networking/making sure the homelife is taken care of. It's a hard balance for people with high-powered jobs like the both of us, but there's no other way to do it, otherwise, my opinion is: if you don't want to figure out the balance, then don't bother getting married.

I met someone the other day that said "Marriage is amazing but it's tough and you have to make sure that as long as the two people in the relationship are ok, then everything else will be ok. Lots of compromise, lots of patience and understanding, but above all, both people have to realize that it is a fundamental lifestyle change. There are things you have to stop doing and start doing once you get married."

Now, as boring as that sounds and I'm sure people out there are saying "What?! I don't want to change, I am who I am, and that's too bad." I totally get that, and marriage doesn't mean changing the person you're with into something unrecognisable, but you have to come to the realization that it's not just one person anymore. You are now accountable to not only yourself, but another person in the decisions you make and the consequences that result. Some habits are hard to break but have to be broken, and there are some characteristics that you have to retain to make someone the colorful and fascinating person that they are. It's all a pretty hilarious, fun and sometimes fragile balance to maintain. And you have to remind yourself 50,000 times not only how to be YOU but also be the new YOU that is a part of WE. It's a constant education.

On the other hand, all of what I've stated, plus the trillion more fun stuff and hard stuff is what makes marriage so freaking cool. You have this person next to you that calls you out on your behaviour but that supports you no matter what. Your biggest cheerleader, the one you trust your heart, soul and life with. The one you fancy. The one you inspire. The one that challenges you. The only one in the world that even in a room chock-full of gorgeous and witty people, will look at you like you'll always be sexier than any of them. The only one that even after a nasty row, will still really like you and want to hold your hand.

Maybe I'm a bit of a romantic (yeah, okay, I'm a BIG romantic), but it's those romantic feelings that get you through the tough stuff and remind you why the hell you decided to marry this crazy person in the first place, and that you cannot imagine life without them.

And that the same crazy person is waiting to hug you at the end of a long day.

Talking killer geese

I swear, I can analyse dreams to the point of scary accuracy. I don't even have to know someone well, they can tell me what they dreamt about, and I can start telling them who they are, what they know and what they're afraid of. It's really fun. I do that for my own dreams every once in a while, but hey, who the hell really wants to pick themselves apart? It's more fun doing it for someone else..

But I've been stumped. I swear, this is the funniest dream I have had in a long time, which is a good sign that the Myshka's brain is very active and very kooky again, but it really threw me for a loop. I've been laughing about it all day, really.

Synopsis: I was chased, cornered, tackled and sat on by a 4-foot tall talking goose.

I'm not joking, I woke up feeling exhausted-- like I'd actually been running full-tilt away from a pack of angry, threatening geese.

Let me start from the beginning, then- and let me preface this by saying I do not take drugs, I wasn't drunk, nor do I have multiple personalities and live in some alternate reality:

The mister and I were in a field on some autumn day, just having a walk around, it was a large green field bordered on the edge with a thick forest. In the distance we saw a pond, and next to that pond a whole gaggle of HUGE geese where just hanging out, some sitting, some walking around- there were about thirty of them, and they were the size of a toddler, all hovering around 4-feet tall.

We started getting closer, to see how close we could get without disturbing any of them. While I was walking closer, at some point I noticed that Tom had gone off to take care of something somewhere, and after that point, I was aware that I was all alone in this field. Me and the geese.

I proceeded to get close enough to see their faces quite clearly. I was about 30 feet away when one of the geese started looking at me, and kept direct eye contact with me, so I stopped moving. It then started glaring (I have no idea if an animal can glare like a human, but this one was), and moving towards me. I started backing up, as it looked pretty upset.

Then, the goose started running after me, taking really long steps, and at first I thought it was funny as I was running away, but then I got quite anxious and panicky, and I started legging it through the field, yelling for the mister to help me.

Before I knew it, I felt a cold hard beak with rough teeth clamp down on my forearm and drag me down, tackling me to the grass, face first. This thing was freakishly strong and heavy, and proceeded to overpower me and sit on my back. I kept yelling, but all was quiet.

The goose then started talking. I know, I know. How do you think I feel, writing this?

It said to me: "Stop yelling, you're being ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen to you, so just calm down and I'm going to sit here for a while and rest."

Now, the duck was so heavy, I found it difficult to breathe, but I tried to take short, quick breaths, waiting for the mister to come and save me from this preposterous situation.

Then it sunk in that the goose was speaking to me. And I thought hell, when will I have the opportunity to speak to a talking animal again? I might as well as it a question (yes, I rationalize in my dreams as well).

So I proceeded to ask the best question that came to mind:

"Do animals like to be petted ad stroked and gushed over?"

And the goose actually answered. It said: "well, you'd be surprised. We've all decided to just put up with you humans because all of you are so insecure and need attention. We don't enjoy being petted, but we've all agreed to just deal with it because you feed us."

And as I lay there, pondering that question with a 4-foot goose sitting on my back, I turned my head and saw the mister's trainers out of the corner of my eye, and I was relieved that he had come to help me (probably thinking to himself.. "jesus. I leave you for two seconds..."

And then I woke up.

Don't make any conclusions about me, I'm a normal person with an active imagination.

Who happens to dream about oversized wildlife.

Poor turkeys have nothing to give thanks for today

Over in the UK, today is Thursday. No special occasion, and I quite like that. Why do people feel a need to eat until the point of mental, physical and sartorial exhaustion? And then pass out on the couch, pants unzipped and turkey grease on their lips? Mmm. Yummy.

The thing that I like about the American holiday "Thanks"giving, is exactly that, though I shudder to think how many children describe it as Food Day. It's actually a day to be thankful for what we have, I think. Once, on a totally average day, the mister and I sat around a big table with a handful of our friends and everyone said two things that they were grateful for. It's a really fun thing to do, and I think it lets you discover more about who your friends are.

I'm thankful for my husband, my family, my health, my smile, my body, my future, my giggle, my ambition, and my heritage. I'm also thankful for cool shoes and my iPod alarm clock, but I digress.

So, it's getting progressively colder here, and it gets dark at 4pm. The cold here is really damp, not like bracing, can't-feel-my-face New York cold, but a damp cold that sits with you all day, residing in your bones, and making you wish you had a fire to jump into. And when it's cold AND rainy, I swear I end up smelling like "wet dog" (thanks to my wool coat and usually running out the door without an umbrella).

I'm getting progressively warmer on the job front, which is exciting. I've given up trying to force myself to take the handful of job offers that I've gotten. It's pointless if I don't pick the exact right thing. No dream job exists, I'm aware of that, but I have to be able to "feel" it. Trust my instincts. Know that in 6 months' time, I won't be cringing every time the girl next to me laughs. I also don't want any recruitment companies to shove me into a company somewhere just because they have to make their fees off of me. I have no patience for that.

All I can do is wait and see. And pretend that the TV perched on a cardboard box in our unfurnished living room is actually a roaring fire.

So many things to learn

When I was little, I was always in my own little world. Being an only child didn't help either (sorry, don't mean to offend anyone out there), because I was encouraged to be "me, myself & I". My parents are wonderful, but they did me a disservice by constantly sheltering me and overprotecting me and making sure I knew I was the princess. I wasn't spoiled, but I was pretty damn sure that I tried to get my way a lot of the time. And anytime I was upset, I was given license to vent my feelings and stamp my feet (to a certain degree).

Ok, so this paints me as a pretty rotten kid. But I swear, I was quite fun, playful, happy, gregarious, and constantly cared about people- almost to my detriment. I wanted to make sure everyone was happy with me all the time and that people liked me. It never happened that way, hilariously enough, because I had braces, didn't shave my legs until I was 13, had short curly hair and was a bit chubby. Not the coolest kid on the planet.

Now that I'm all grown up, I tend to underestimate how much of my childhood shaped the person I am today. I am still child-like, giggly, vivacious and I still find my greatest joy in making the person I love happy. However, some of he gnarly bits of my childhood still remain as bad habits. The tempermental, impatient, negative (it's the Ukrainian in me- we're all a bit melancholy in our genes) and selfish sides are my biggest hurdles to overcome. Why? I have no idea. Everyone has an evil twin inside themselves, and mine has almost all but disappeared, save for these few traits. It's annoying as hell to see them come out of me, because I become the Myshka that isn't exactly fun to be around. I'm really tough and opinionated and passionate, but mix those together with the bad habits, and you get a very fiery woman. I'm trying to learn and change and grow as a woman, and sometimes these are little road blocks for me, and make it hard for me to operate normally in my day and in my marriage. The mister is really good at being a grownup, and in my eyes, he is a lot of my inspiration for being a well-rounded fun person that doesn't look at the dark side of things. But there's only so much that someone outside of myself can help- I have to do that on my own, from within.

Honestly, what really sets me straight is reminding myself how blessed I am. I am healthy as a horse, I have a wonderful life in London, I have 2 families that I adore to pieces, and most of all, I have a man who promises to stand by me, adore me and witness my life, for better or worse. I'm a very lucky Myshka.

All I can do is recognize this evil twin and remind her of what she has to lose by being a big baby. And that every day is a new opportunity to start fresh and remind the important people that you fiercely love them no matter what.

Iceland

Strains of sound
Curl and wind their way
Up the path today.

The stones dig beneath my feet
The wind stains my hair with salt
My purpose is ahead of me, without fault.

I see the silhouette in front of me
The spire cutting the grey in half
A chill goes through me, the sun keeps hiding its laugh.

I touch the white wood in front of me
My feet falter, but I open the gate
The black door in front of me contains my music, my fate.

The darkness of my dress competes with the clouds
The wind whips my hair in front of my eyes
I can’t see for a quiet second, but the louder seconds follow.

The door slowly opens and the music surrounds me in a warmth I’ve never felt
Eyes peer around to see me, searching for an answer to questions of themselves
I walk slowly forward, wind pushing me, pulling me. Let me see.
Let me see him first, let me hear his laugh, let me hear him say
It’s you today. It’s you from now. It’s you that I need to smooth my furrowed brow.
A rush of lights and smiles and hands to guide my way
Leading me down a wooden floor to where he stands, looking at me like his heart knows no other way.
My heart competes with the beat of my heels on the floor
Silence is the canvas for my breath
I see my birth, my life, my death
In his face, his touch,
All in front of me
My hands shake as he,
A gold band in his hand,
Promises me eternity.

Reclaiming*

Why is it that as adults, we find it difficult to remember what it's like to feel like a child? Are we so jaded and single-minded that we don't know what wonder and amazement and naked joy feels like? These are obviously unanswerable questions, but it's nice to put them out there.

I had lunch with my old boss the other day and he reminded me of that. He said "When it feels like your days are hard and frustrating right now, try to fake yourself out by convincing yourself that the 'hard' bits are the 'exciting' bits. Like not knowing where to go food shopping, or not knowing which bread to buy. Make everything an adventure and it might help you get the energy back to deal with the transition." (he probably put it more eloquently than that, but you get the point.)

I do appreciate the fact that I've always had that child in me, that wonder, that distant "ooooh..look!" while I'm walking down the street and forget what I was supposed to be doing. That's the purest form of my nature: a child-like curiosity and excitement about life. It's been in hiding for a little while, just because I'm trying to focus on so many little things in this city, everything taking just a little longer than normal to sink in. We tend to forget, as adults, how to giggle, how to sing, how to love. So, in order to bring the little Myshka out of hiding for a bit, I'll reclaim some of what I love and what gives my life that unadulterated joy:

peanut butter sandwiches
the colour green
giggling so hard my stomach hurts
silly jokes (i.e: why doesn't a cannibal eat clowns? because they taste funny.)
watching a band play in a small venue
berries and cream- fresh whipped cream.
the smell of the mister's skin
hot croissants and butter
sunrises in Paris
chilly mornings waking up on a boat
holding hands
horseback riding (or doing any sport) to the point of exhaustion
5 hour dinners with lots of wine and friends
happy/sad crying at a film, opera, etc.
singing fun little songs to myself
making jewelry
singing along to songs by Journey and Chicago
picnics
board games
kisses. lots of them.
happy coloured shoes
dressing up for a night out
horses' faces
sleeping on a boat at sea
hot chocolate in front of a fire after skiing
seeing my wedding band sparkle
having a good current events debate
the way a kitten sounds when it first meows
speaking different languages
challenging myself
sunflowers and peonies
going on road trips
monkeys
sliding on a wooden floor with socks on
dancing little dances that I invent
hearing the mister laugh
burning dinner (but honestly trying not to. it's hilarious)
falling alseep to the ocean
filing and organizing
feeling sand under my feet
the smell of the outdoors on me when I come home
finding something so unique I know it was made for me
hugs. lots of hugs.
working really hard at a dream and not giving up
travelling and imagining the next country we'll live in
smiling. lots of it.

This is such a small chunk of who I am, but I'll stop the list now- not just because I don't want to bore anyone, but because special stuff is meant to be saved for me. Everyone has their box of magic, and I just have to remember that I have lots of deposits to make into mine.


*Disclaimer: I'm trying to formulate thoughts for this blog, but forgive me if I don't tie the threads together eloquently, as I'm competing with a table of 4 loud Indian girls with voices like chainsaws sitting next to me, and they keep slamming their fists on their table or clap to punctuate their conversations about their respective lives. I dare think what they're clapping for, all I've heard is "size", "he wants it too much" and "position". Great. I doubt they're clapping because one of them found a rare Amazonian flower that contains the cure for idiocy. Unfortunately.

Long ago, in a land far away called Starbucks...

I've turned into one of those people I despise. The pretentious writers/webdesigners/stocktraders who sit at a Starbucks sipping lattes (that have gotten so expensive, they should probably just start making the cups out of gold) and looking very pretty whilst they plan out their futures. Though there is an entirely different reason I'm here, and I'm not sipping a latte. In fact, I look like a lost little traveler, in jeans, trainers, hair pinned back and my rucksack by my pink-Conversed feet.

I am in Starbucks because we don't have internet yet, and Starbucks has gone hi-tech and installed wireless.It's been 12 days now, and we don't have a phoneline or internet. Plus, we have about 4 fuzzy channels on our TV. Our bed is still on the floor, and we have no dressers to put our clothes in. Life is good. I think it's quite an exercise in patience for us to go through this. Life for us, like I've mentioned before, is never boring. We're constantly moving, constantly uprooting ourselves, constantly shifting our perspective to save up for our dream of conquering the world.

It has been so tempting to just run out and buy the first cheap particle-board dresser we trip over, but we've had to gain a larger picture which is: why buy crap when we can invest in proper furniture that won't need to be repaired with duct tape in a year? It's a very tough question to ask ourselves, but it's an important one. The mister is working hard and travelling, so it's better for us to be patient in buying our furniture and letting ourselves focus on work, rather than adding more to our list of things to do. I have now taken on the project of making our home livable-it's in that in-between stage at the moment, where items reside for about a day, and then they're moved to a different part of the house. I hate that feeling. It's very unsettling. So, I've pretty much unpacked everything, sorted out our papers and filing, and put away in the closets what I can. The rest I'll have to wait for our dressers.

I haven't found a job yet, still in rounds of interviews. I won't go on about that, because although it's frustrating, there are loads of people out there without even a roof over their heads, and some who live in unhappy homes, so I have nothing to complain about.

I've also noticed that throughout my time here in this cafe (though it's become so generic it doesn't feel like a cafe anymore- it feels like a pit stop for urbanites to mainline espresso into their veins and leave without saying thank you. Very impersonal.), I've found it nice to hear people's voices. Right now, I feel very disconnected from people, places and things. With the time difference it's hard to reach family in America, and my friends here have very busy lives (4 girlfriends of mine have had kids in the past year). Other than the mister, my horses (I have to start my riding again) here and my in-laws are my saving grace, because when the mister is travelling, I know there's always someone to have a glass of wine with (though lately I've taken to long showers with the music playing and Sex and the City DVDs). No, the horses don't drink, I meant the in-laws.

So, until I get offered a job, I should probably feel lucky that not only do we have a flat and a very happy marriage and future together, I get to blog in the late afternoon and reflect- something that not many people get a chance to do.

I do have one complaint, though: Starbucks needs to make chairs suitable for skinny people- my arse feels like it's writing its name in the wood.

I am living the narcissist's dream

It's taken me ages to post. Not because of laziness, I'm proud to say, but because zero internet, unpacking boxes, and overproductivity. Is that even a word? Oh, forget it. I don't even know what day it is right now.

I've been interviewing for jobs left and right, and meeting people and shaking hands and hearing about how great I am. I'm exhausted. It's flattering to have people rave about me, but the amount of interviews required to land a job are enormous. First Round, Second Round, Third Round, Maybe Round, Hmm Let Me Think Some More Round, I Need You To Meet Some Of My Colleagues Round, I Think You'd Be Amazing Round... you get the picture. Selling oneself isn't easy (not in the prostitute way, don't get the wrong idea, although I'm sure it's exhausting to conduct what is essentially a naked job interview).

I'm not used to repeating to people over and over again about how I'm so great and so amazing and how much I love my job. But I use a tactic in the first 15 minutes of an interview to make it less painful: I'm literally telling people "Listen, I'm fantastic at what I do. I'm not someone who spouts bullshit to people, I love the industry that I work in, I'm very honest with people, and I'm good for a drink and a laugh. It's that easy. I won't bore you with any fancy talk." It sounds arrogant, but it works. Every time. I'm lucky that I'm tall and can be imposing in 4-inch heels, so I can get my point across and my foot in the door (literally. I'm a US 9, which is big for a girl, I know). And I have a husband who has a brilliant reputation in the same industry, so we feed eachother inspiration now and again. Anyway, it's an adventure to say the least, and if all else fails, I'll join the circus.

The other thing that's preventing me from writing is that we don't have the internet set up in our new flat (I love saying that. Yes, we found a home, and it's dreamy). Funny, I never used to care when I was living in New York, as I had the computer at work and I could always use it if I need to do anything online. Didn't need it at home and quite liked the feeling of disappearing into a non-electronic world after work. However, not having a job yet means I don't have easy access to internet if I need to contact someone about a job, or do any banking online, so it's a bit frustrating. The mister is so busy at his job that we barely have time to spend together, let alone discuss house stuff, so neither of us feel like we can get organized. Maybe that's why unpacking things in our place makes me feel like at least something is getting sorted. I think I'm a person with Procrastinative ODD- my own word that basicaly means I like to organize things but I have to "feel" the moment to do it, otherwise I just leave it to another day.

Speaking of leaving it to another day, this post has languished in the "Drafts" box for too long. I'm going to publish as is... and start another one in a moment.