My outlook is different now that I know I'm leaving. I no longer feel the need to "grin and bear it" and I allowing myself to recognize my unhappiness with the situation. I don't like living here, and I'm not entirely satisfied with my job. I don't feel at home, and I don't feel like part of the team here at work, or like I've integrated into the town. I feel like I've been a satellite, absorbing as much information from this planet as possible, but from far far away.
I should explain my transfer. It was not offered to me, so it is not a promotion, per-se. I heard about an un-advertised opening from a dear friend who works at the Moncton Public Library. When she told me I should "express interest" sooner than later if I wanted a shot at it, my sweat pores opened and dispelled all my nervous energy onto my dress shirt in the form of warm salty water. I knew, I just KNEW that I had to . Even though I was 100 percent resigned to finishing my term here in Saint-Basile, was settling in for the grueling winter in the middle of nowhere, making big plans for huge projects at work, despite all this I knew that this was one of those golden opportunities that don't come along very often. Being one who is familiar with a certain amount of negative fate (I am not longer allowed to say that I am "Bad Luck" because it chips at the fragile amount of self confidence I do have), I knew that this was a giant morsel of delicious good luck and I had to it snatch up. I also had a feeling that because I had originally promised to stay here for the full term, "expressing interest in transfer" would potentially cause some hard feelings. So I gathered every ounce of courage, like collecting scattered sequins into a handful sized pile, put on a cardigan to hide my sweat stains and approached my boss for a meeting.
Note about "expressing interest in transfer" This is a biz-talk way of skirting politely around the issue that you would like to leave your current position, but without straight out saying you are leaving. A transfer isn't quitting, but if you are the one asking for it, it is a way of showing that you aren't really satisfied and want out. In my situation I "expressed interest" about a position that was opening in Moncton before I "expressed interest" in a transfer. This way nothing was definite, just "wanted to let you know I maybe, possibly, might be a good candidate for this new position if a transfer is possible" kind of thing. It's tricky!
So the conversation at my meeting went a little something like this:
Mouse: "I don't really know how to begin... "
J: "I already know what you're going to say."
Mouse: "WHAT?"
J: "Yes, I am psychic, and a wonderful caring person, so I am attuned to your needs and desires. I think this is a golden opportunity and that you should go for it."
Mouse: "I just want you to know that you are a wonderful, caring, supportive person, and I enjoy working with you and am in awe of the TS dream-team. I will not leave if it is going to cause a rift, or any kind of drama."
J: "We are accustomed to people coming and going in this region. It will not cause a rift. Go, with my blessing."
Then we hugged. WOW. Right? It turned out she isn't actually psychic (ok so I editorialized the conversation just a bit) but that she had actually spoken with the Regional Director in Moncton who alerted her about how I had "expressed interest."
I will truly miss working for J and can only hope that any boss I have in the future will be half as intuitive and supportive. Note to all bosses! A little positive reinforcement, and a sense of support, goes a really really really long way.
I will miss many things about this place. Probably more tangibly once I am away from it. Nine months isn't a very long time, but it is long enough to get intimate with a town, to grow accustomed to people and places, to find a way to make a life. I feel sad when I think about things I will no longer be able to do, such as bike past a field of sheep and other vast farm lands, or explore trails through reserve land, or along a dirt road to nowhere, or enjoy the overwhelming smell of woodsmoke hanging in the winter air, or revel in the open ended possibilities of a weekend where absolutely nothing is happening.
I think I am good at relocating and quickly adapting to new environments. Since I moved out east four years ago I have moved eight, eight times. This upcoming move to Moncton will be my ninth. I have to say it's getting a bit tiring, all this moving around. It's not that I dislike traveling, not at all. I wish I could do more of that. It's the packing up and relocating of the home-base that grinds one down. Each time I move I feel like pieces of me get left behind. Each time I have less and less (in attempts to make moves easier and faster I try not to accumulate many material things). And maybe it's because I can see my thirtieth birthday on the not-too-distant horizon that I have started to faintly hear my bones calling for a place to settle down, a place to call home. I don't want to feel so scattered any more. I don't want to say for sure that Moncton is destined to be the place where I will finally begin to put down my thirsty, ragged roots, but I do know two things: Saint-Basile is not a place for my roots, and Moncton is a step in the right direction. I can just feel it, East, you know?
It's true the sky was filled with dust and silver
Waves of light across a crooked highway
The ocean in a silver flask
Best get new dreams, these old dreams won't last
This is not your home, leave this place alone
Windy Road.
You said I had the look of a prairie crow, that year when all your friends were married
A gold ring on a leather boot, when all these mean lonely days are through
This is not your home, leave this place alone
Windy Road. ~The Constantines
Waves of light across a crooked highway
The ocean in a silver flask
Best get new dreams, these old dreams won't last
This is not your home, leave this place alone
Windy Road.
You said I had the look of a prairie crow, that year when all your friends were married
A gold ring on a leather boot, when all these mean lonely days are through
This is not your home, leave this place alone
Windy Road. ~The Constantines
I believe I will continue to blog, so don't worry you haven't heard the last of me! But I've decided to begin a new blog, for a new phase of my life, which I hope is to be some kind of a journey home.
