From January through March or April-ish, Bluestalking exploded with activity like it hadn’t for ages. Then a Big Life Decision came knocking, consuming all my attention. The issue? Should I, or should I not, return to Scotland.
The answer, after weeks of torturous back and forth: Yes.
Pulling up stakes once again, selling or storing possessions not crucial to day-to-day existence, I’m again living with Scottish friend and fellow writer/blogger Chris. I can only describe last year’s attempt to build a relationship as a complete crash and burn. Not without good times, the volatility ultimately lead to a swear-laden shouting match, ending with me stomping out, slamming the door behind me. I flew home three months early. The friendship, I thought, was smashed to bits, beyond repair.
But angry passion is still passion. A few months’ fuming outrage releasing the fury, I didn’t believe the story was over.
It’s a somewhat wonky relationship built not on romance, but a friendship evolving over five years’ worth of on-again, off-again communication about reading, writing, and the banality of life. After the demise of my marriage I approached him first about the idea of my moving to Scotland, but the timing was off. Biding my time two more years, something clicked. He asked me to come live with him. Working out the details of moving abroad was exhausting, but I managed. Living in the same house was awkward, sometimes contentious. It morphed into something explosive and unhealthy.
Yet, I knew it wasn’t the last chapter. Somewhere deep inside I knew there was something there.
Five or six months later, tentative communication started. I don’t remember who approached whom first, but I kept writing and the Scot continued replying – terse and snarling, but he answered. He hadn’t forgiven me for walking out. A month-ish later I came out with it: should we try again? It was crazy. Insane.
It was inevitable.
Last year I was relatively flush; this time around the money’s tighter. Distant travel will have to give way to local trips, of which there are still a plethora. Living a short distance outside Edinburgh, you bet your arse I’ll explore the capital city extensively. Though staying in the Lowlands, the Highlands are accessible. Scotland is a small country.
Edinburgh’s been christened The City of Literature, birthplace of writers major and minor, home to a plethora of literary festivals, bookshops and book events. There’s a literary salon I plan to join. I’m considering options for other endeavors, including blogging about Scottish literature.
At home, life so far is smooth. Can I predict the outcome this time around? Not a chance. There’s sniping, but much more sedate. Sedate is good.
I don’t know where I’m headed, professionally speaking. I need to decide soon and get on with it. Reviewing won’t stop. It’s more a matter of specializing or staying more general. My life situation would translate well to articles, not to mention the knowledge and creativity accumulated throughout my life. I have options. I need to pick one or three and get cracking.
Once I do, I’ll post. Wish me luck.