Rudhraigh

So, I’ve been pretty reticent to write up the specifics of what’s been going on with this particular project, simply because the majority of the process was so fucking insanely boring. But also because being so close to it yet not here was too difficult to put into words. And on top of that, let me tell you, applying for an American work visa is not a process you do because you’ve seen all of the current episodes of Friends that are on telly and are looking for a fun alternative. It’s more like having a protractedly desperate conversation with a coked up bouncer who knows that he can do or say anything, make any demand or outrageous command and you will still desperately scurry and scrape to funnel his two second attention span into the “He’s good to go” column.

So, it took a month more than I thought, but I made it. I’m here. Finally. I pushed through the interminable obstacles, the endless pains in the ass, the constant and crippling doubt that all the effort would actually pay off in the end. And now, finally, I’m sitting in my new apartment in Greenpoint in Brooklyn. In New York. Finally.

I remember all the times where I sat slumped on my own. Feeling shit and ignored. Purposeless. Mistaken. Forgotten. Needing but not having. Wanting but not getting. And the only thing that kept me going, was this. When I looked at the Hyper Island experience and found it lacking, the only thing that reassured me, was this. When I sat in Google and wondered why it was that everyone else seemed to be happy and I wasn’t. When I thought about the many, many things in my life that I found intolerable, this was the only thing that stood out as a definite and complete good.

It’s the culmination of two years of decidedly substandard living. Of not really ever being more than pretty okay. Of accepting an immediate awfulness for an assumed eventual payoff. Of being lonely, down and fucking ridiculously overly sensitive. Of estranging myself from all the people I know and love, who remind me that neurosis aren’t real. Of living in a situation that I knew to be damaging.

And I have to say, overall it was the worst period of my life. It was my weakest moment and worst and most protracted period of insanity, partially because I just happened to come into contact with some seriously fucked up people, but mostly cause at the time, I was just as seriously fucked up.

But like, fuck it.

It’s done. Finally.

And now that I’ve done it, all of it was worth it. Every second spent sitting alone in my room in Sweden. Every hour spent gazing at the clock in Google. Every day I realised I didn’t really care what day of the week it was.

I’ve been dreaming about living in this city since I saw Ghostbusters aged nine. I’ve wanted to live here since I saw Taxi Driver, Trading Places, The Secret of My Success, Three Men and a Baby, Coming to America, Crocodile Dundee, The Godfather, TMNT, Hackers, Being John Malkovich, Finding Forrester, Requiem for a Dream. I’m finally in the picture and I couldn’t be fucking happier.

Tonight I shall be patrolling the rooftops searching for crimes to stop and beautiful women to kiss while hanging upside down from my Spiderman web. I’ll be smashing it Gotham style. I’ll be wandering amongst my dreamtown and a really couldn’t give a shit if anyone thinks my happiness is anything other than amazing. I’ve fucking earned it.

Finally.

After just over a year of abiding in Stockholm, I’ve finally made the step back home to Ireland. And I have to say, mixed feeling aside, sitting at my desk in an incredibly comfy armchair in my room and considering the whole transition, I’m so glad to be home.

Mostly for the following randomly conceived reasons that I am pulling off the top of my head.

1) In the day since I’ve been back, I’ve gotten more phone calls than I did in 6 months in Stockholm. For real.

2) I can now actually read incidental pieces of text, I now know what street signs mean. I can actually even listen in on conversations that don’t actively include me. Although as I am awesome, they are usually about me, so it’s kind of awkward.

3) It is a balmy 5 degrees here. It was -5 in Stockholm when I left. Now that might sound awesome to you, but I doubt you are reading this from the inside of an igloo.

4) I am back in my home and can now bask in the glow of being able to eat honey that cost more than my weekly food budget and not worry about it.

5) All that’s standing between me and New York is a plane ride. And like a couple of buses. And a visa. And like, maybe an apartment issue. And probably some kind of mid-Atlantian dragonmonster if my luck is holding.

6) My mum, dogs and room. Maybe not in that order.

7) This is the big one. I no longer have to dread the hassle of moving, and thank God for that.

Now this may not seem like a major thing but put this in perspective, on the day I moved, this was the day before I even had to get up at 3AM to actually take myself to the airport I had to wake up at 6:30 to transport 70KG of immensely awkward physical history that seemingly had the density of dark matter from my apartment near Hagsatra to the outlying Cargo terminal at Arlanda airport. This is roughly a trip that even without suitcases takes about an hour and a half. I had to get a train to another train to a bus and back again.

This meant I would have to theoretically pull two cheap yet expensive, insanely flimsy suitcases and also carry an incredibly uncomfortable US army rucksack on my back, to do it solo and to do it when I knew that the suitcases could break at any time. And they did. Immediately. Before I even got them out of my building I managed to completely smash the wheels on one of the suitcases so that my only option was to carry it, and I could hardly do that for more than four steps at a time before I had back spasms. At this point I was convinced that the flight I had booked the next day to Ireland was a no-go. Unless I went and bought ANOTHER one of the really incredibly expensive, yet insanely flimsy suitcases.

So, having no other option, I went to go buy one, with a heavy heart full of hopelessness and a realisation that I was doomed to live the rest of my days in what was basically the most depressing part of Stockholm. And that was pretty fucking depressing. And it was then, as I trudged towards the shop where I would have to wait for an hour for it to open, that I saw it. Glistening in the morning dew. The most beautiful site a man in such need ever did see.

A Lidl shopping trolley had been abandoned on the side of the road, by some kindly saint, some passing angel, some drunken tramp. It was lying on its side, I think shopping trolleys are the turtles of the modern world, when they’re the right way up they move with a smooth purpose that belies it’s amazing design, but put on on it’s back and it’s one of the most pathetic sights imaginable.  The strange thing is that there is no Lidl ANYWHERE near my apartment, so it was an erratic, odd thing. It had no reason to be there. It was encrusted with mud and dead leaves, it had plainly been there some time. The yellow handle was smeared with something that resembled shit mostly obscuring the lettering, but I didn’t care. I still loved it. I would have kissed that shitty handle if I thought it would have resulted in agreeing to help me. It was as if the world had presented me. With a present.

I grabbed the shitty handle with gusto, pushed it right side up and we were away! We ran back to my apartment, skipping, hopping and jumping like a giddy schoolboy and his shopping trolley chum. I loaded the suitcases into the trolley and off we went on our merry way! Yes! It was still a MASSIVE pain in the ass! Yes! Swedes kept staring at me for my obviously non Lidl sanctioned usage of the trolley! Yes! Halfway through my trudging journey the first of Stockholm’s Winter blizzards hit, making the temperature drop so fast I suddenly couldn’t feel my toes! Yes! one of the bags fell off and ripped a long bloody gash in my leg!

BUT ITS DONE. THE SUDDEN AND UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF THE MAGICAL SHOPPING TROLLEY MAENT THAT THE BAGS WERE SENT HOME AND NOW THEY ARE UNPACKED AND I NEVER HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THEM EVER AGAIN.*

And so, now I’m sitting here, in my armchair and considering the huge list of things I have to do before I go to NYC.

They include :

-Sorting out documentation for the Visa App

-Calling my Health Insurance company

-Cancelling my second Ryanair flight

-Rebooking my NYC flight.

-Go to Dentist

-Get new Driver’s Licence.

-Kill enemies, see them driven before me and hear the lamentation of their women.

Oh, What fun!

*Until I move to New York City in about three weeks.

Today I booked some MORE flights home to Ireland, this time on the 10th. I shall be home in time to enjoy a leisurely stretch at home before jetting off to the rest of my life. So, I have to go to Clas Ohlson today (A huge and awesome swedish department store) and go buy some packing boxes so I can see exactly how much stuff I have to transport. Fingers crossed it’s not like some kind of obscene amount as I really don’t have the energy to carry them around.

Well, physically I probably do, but I have one hell of a flabby mind.

As many of you possibly maybe already know, I’m moving to New York City which is a city in America where they have buildings and money and telekinetic giraffes.* So, a smooth and effortless tactical withdrawal from Stockholm is almost decidedly on the cards. Well, by smooth and effortless I mean with a minimum of red flags, shouting points or worrying stress rashes.

I’m kind of coming to writing this late in the game, I’ve already booked my flights back to Ireland, my flights to New York, sourced an apartment for the first month with a pretty decent option for the rest of the time, so the majorly burning questions are gonna be how the hell do I get all my mounds of stuff home from Sweden to Ireland?

The major contender for achieveing this goal is by using http://www.trustforwarding.com/, I quite like the idea of shipping a load of stuff I don’t need home in a shipping container across the ocean. It seems romantic or something. I wonder if when the shipping containers go, is there like thousands of shipping container families and loved ones down at the docks, to wish them a happy and safe voyage across the ocean. I worry that this is not the case.

Other issues include getting my visa sorted, which is kind of up to the company I’m interning at, although since I’ve already booked my flights, I hope they get it sorted before my arrival date. So

To do:

1)Buy Packing boxes and see how much stuff I actually have.

2) Pack up apartment

3) Get Quote from travel companies.

4) Bring stuff to airport or port area for shipping

5) Talk to employers about how long the visa process will take.

6) Leave Sweden. Begin new and hopefull superior life in the land of the mentally surreal giraffes.

*I read a guidebook written by a LSD abusing economist.