Occasionally My Sappy Nostalgic Side Wants a Look-in

Isn’t it amazing how life gets in the way of our plans? As most of you know, I came to the States almost 8.5 years ago on the pretense that I would live, work a little then leave. I craved a change of scenery, a shift from the mundane. Wow, I got my challenge wish (just with the USCIS alone). My plans started, but didn’t end that way.

If you know Immigration much, you’ll know it’s not easy to gain willful employment here without a Social Security number, something I learned after my 6-month visitors’ visa and I stepped off the plane in broad daylight in a comfortably warm San Francisco, early December 1999. It was a far cry from the dark, 3-week long, frigidly cold rain-fest I left behind in Scotland.

Short of wishing I had been blogging back then, or at least jotting down my thoughts in some way (without fear of having them read and critised*) I can only share my sketchy memories at best. Everything was different: the concreted highway roads, the 100-foot high billboards dotting the Interstates, the amount of traffic lanes, the blinding sun.

After getting over the initial jet lag and culture shock, and perhaps even lifestyle shock (I was used to Clubbing every weekend and always being on the go, to — nothing), and even after applying for jobs, sitting filling out application forms until I couldn’t fill in anymore blanks, I resigned myself to the fact that when it came down to it, I was stuck here for at least 3 months and I had to find something, anything to do. The house was straightened, the laundry done and hung up and put away, carpets were spotless and meals were cooked. Where much is given, much is required. I refused to clean the litter tray or make her bed though. At first I was glad to do it, just to do something to fill my day. I’m not the type to just sit and do nothing, I have to be doing SOMEthing.

After a while I started getting, “Anita at work wishes she had someone like you at her place. She wants to borrow you, but I told her you were my wife and she wasn’t getting you!” Funny? Maybe. I wasn’t laughing though. It implied my busyness was almost being overlooked and horribly under appreciated and taken for granted. It also implied a dark, sick joke and I wasn’t going there.

I needed some intellectual stimulus, anything to fill the void I was feeling after working for so long. Online gaming was fun for a while, but I got lonely with no one to talk to except the two cats. Don’t get me wrong, I like cats, but there’s only so much one-sided conversation you can take before you realise there’s a thin line between interacting with them and morphing into the psycho cat lady with no life.

I soon found an online forum with some like-minded (non-cat related) sarcastic-fuelled antagonists — all in fun, of course. Soon after, Bryan joined the group and I felt drawn to him in a I’ve-known-him-for-ages kinda way. I wasn’t looking for any sort of relationship, but definitely liked the attention my uber-sarcastic persona was attracting — the good, and the bad. The bad just validated it for me and encouraged more of it.

After a week or so of chatting with Bryan, I added him to my messenger and we left the forum behind. We’d chat until it was daylight. One night we chatted right up until he had to leave for work that day. It still amazes me how everything unfolded. He was, and still is, easy to talk to. He exemplified many traits and qualities I admired and wanted in a mate, but I never really thought for a moment – at least in the early days – that anything would come from it. It’s still interesting to me how being online and getting to know someone from the words on the screen breaks down many barriers society and even social etiquette teaches us. Some of the limitations we even impose upon ourselves taken from past experiences and relationships. But when you don’t have that to complicate everything, you open up and share things you’d probably be a lot more reserved about sharing. And being British, I’m reserved by nature anyway.

As time passed and our trust grew deeper, I felt myself letting my guard down more and more which made our connection stronger and our friendship deeper. It was a surprise. It totally crept up on me; us. Neither of us were looking for a relationship, but are we ever? And just when you feel like you’ve given up on relationships and the complicated emotional headaches they can be, and you’ve reigned yourself to having to settle, settle for something less than you know you’re worthy of, you’re handed something you’ve wanted but didn’t really realise you wanted it. Until you realise you could lose it.

One night in mid-May and approximately 3 weeks before my Visa expired and I’d have to head home, I got an e-mail from Bryan saying he was sorry he couldn’t talk to me that night that he was tired from work and Uni and was heading to bed, but wanted to share something with me. He told me that he’s not the spontaneous type (and he’s totally not, he has to plan things, make lists and bloody spreadsheets and pivot graphs…) but had booked a flight to California to come meet me and spend 4 days with me over Memorial Weekend, 2000.

I was excited, scared, elated and panic-struck all in one breath.

But mainly excited.

He was just the kind, compassionate, sensitive but strong man I had grown to know and love across the 600 miles that separated us. His gentleness and spirituality mirrored each other perfectly. He was that mix of responsible but fun I’d been waiting for. He was my best friend, and still is.

It almost sounds crazy now, but just 4 months after the initial meeting, and after I went out to Yellowstone with him and his family and spent three weeks with all of them (on his dime), I moved states to be closer to him.

My love for him over the years hasn’t changed, but expanded and transformed into something greater. He remains the most amazing man I’ve ever met. The roads we’ve walked together have been rewarding and very difficult at times, but they have brought us closer together and made us stronger; and especially, have given us perspective and a respect for what we have now.

Things won’t always be easy and I know there’ll be more times in the future where we have to make difficult decisions, and sacrifice something for something better, but I feel better prepared for it having Bryan at my side.

I am so grateful God helped me find you eight years ago. I am a better person because you love me.

* I could write 6 or 7 blogs on this very subject (old room mate). I have it all written down. Maybe one day.

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More Answers to the Burning Questions

I’m actually still thinking about some of the questions I’ve already answered, it’s amazing what else I’ve thought about since being asked. Here are some additional points.

Some other things that surprised me about the US:
Debit cards. Back in the UK, I was so used to having people at the till hold on to my card until after I had signed the receipt. They’d take it and compare both, boring holes in both with their laser beam eyes until they were satisfied it really was me. It’s nice that it’s quicker here, but disconcerting if anyone ever stole my cards. It would take much longer to sort out the mess.

The amount of different drive-thru facilities. I had never been to a drive-thru bank until stepping on to American soil. They built some in recent years though.

An American saying:
99% of the saying are the same, including ‘raining cats and dogs’, but there was one saying that totally caught me off guard and took a while to understand: Smacking someone upside the head. I just didn’t get it. What direction was upside? we’d say ‘on the side of.’

1. LceeL asked:
Although I know that Scotland is wetter, do you find similarities between the Highlands and Montana?
The air actually smells the same as it does in Scotland, and that’s kinda cool. As for where I lived, it was in a much more built-up area with a lot of housing and buildings (The Lowlands). My older brother actually lives on the Isle of Skye in the Highlands which is part of the Hebrides (heh-breh-dees). It’s really similar, I think.

2. Jameil asked:
Are you a U.S. citizen?
No, I am a Permanent Resident, or legal alien (ha!) which means I hold a Green Card. It’s a 10-year Green Card that expires when I turn 40 (the fee to renew is $290). It took a lot of time and money to get to this point: around $3000 I think. I stopped counting. Before we were married, I was on a visitors’ visa for a year (two separate fees). When I was making preparations for our wedding, we were also filing some paperwork too, so we hired a paralegal rather than a lawyer to save stress and money, even then, she charged us $800.

After we were married, I was issued a work permit and a social security number. The work permit was only good for a year, then I had to apply for a (conditional, due to 9/11 changes) Green Card. I also had my fingerprints taken. After two years, I then had to apply for the conditions to be removed and have my fingerprints retaken (all at my expense). After almost 4 years of marriage, I got my real Green Card. I could have applied for citizenship after two years but didn’t. I picked up the paperwork for citizenship the last time I was in a USCIS office over three years ago, but never applied. It cost over $400 then to apply. It has been something I have thought about a lot, I had decided against it as I felt like I would be abandoning my family by doing so (even though I can retain my British citizenship), so I’ve never been serious about it. I actually thought about going through with it last year, but as I was about to start the process, they increased the filing fees to $595. I can’t justify or afford that now.

3. If so, when did you gain citizenship and how?
After you file and pay the fee, you are interviewed and go through a series of questions to determine how much you know about US history and government. It is not multiple answer – argh! They also determine how well you can speak and read English. After that, you have to go to a court house and get sworn in by a judge on an alloted day.

4. How do you feel about the immigration debate?
As you can imagine, I have very strong feelings on this subject. I am flabbergasted by the amount of illegal immigrants who are gainfully employed (under the table) when so many others do it the legal way and feel almost punished for doing so. The process is not easy, and definitely not cheap, but it doesn’t make it right to come here essentially breaking the law and expect to stay because of longevity or family ties. I wish there was an easy remedy to the situation, but amnesty is definitely not the answer. It makes a mockery of those who have done so properly and through the right channels.

When I first arrived in California, no one would hire me because I didn’t possess a social security card, yet there were many around me who were being paid (tax-free too) by unethical companies. It’s a touchy but important subject for me.

5. Can you vote? Do you want to?
The only right I am not entitled to as a Permanent Resident is the right to vote. After being here through two other general elections, this is the first one where I would actually like the right to vote. It’s sad that more people don’t. I took the online survey to match me with a candidate. I answered as honestly as I could, and was matched 86% with Mitt Romney. Ironically, I liked his stand on immigration the most.

6. Who do you like in the current election?
I may step on some toes, but I can’t vote, right?

Hillary Clinton, I feel, has already been the President, because we all know who wears the pants in that family.

Barack Obama: Great public speaker, visionary and motivator. I haven’t really followed his policies enough to make an informed opinion though.

Ralph Nader: Was he in a coma or something? What a numpty.

John McCain: He just seems too old to me. Plus, I have watched quite a few pieces on him which have highlighted him flip-flopping, specifically within 8 minutes of saying something else. I don’t know if I trust him.

Mike Huckabee: His last name–it’s not very presidential, is it? When he talks I see Jimmy Stewart and can’t get past that.

7. Do you want more children?
Yes. When I was 21, I wanted four kids. I didn’t get married until I was 26-and-a-half and it took 2 years to conceive Ian, so I feel like I am really behind schedule, so-to-speak. When I was in labour with Cameron, I waited until I was dilated to a 7 till I asked for the epidural (don’t ask me why, I have no idea), thanks to that, it didn’t work properly and numbed my left leg only. I felt e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g and had chills thinking about it for the preceding eight months. It still gives me the heebies.

8. Did you think online dating was bizarre before you did it?
Yes, I thought it was kinda crazy. Thankfully, it was a little safer when I did it eight years ago, and I made sure I talked to his mother and sisters and brother before we ever met. What’s weird is, about five years ago, Bryan and I both filled out the personality profile on eHarmony for a joke and it didn’t match us. It essentially rejected me. It got my personally about 90% right though.

9. Do you want your kids to grow up in Scotland or do you want to live here forever? Will you move back one day?
That’s kinda of a difficult question to answer because I don’t do well with things unless I have some sort of deadline or goal to reach. The thought of dying and being buried here is so foreign to me. I am dreading the day I am in the States longer than I was in Scotland (25 years). I don’t know what will happen, but I don’t see them growing up in the UK though. I wish I could have the best of both worlds. I specifically feel bad for my Mum, her other grandkids are 4 hours away too. I think she should move to the Isle of Skye when my Gran passes.

10. Maria asked:
If you could have any eye or hair color, what would you have?
I kinda like having brown hair and blue eyes because it’s different here (but so common in the UK), but if I could choose, I’d have black hair and green eyes.

I’ll answer more questions Thursday!

Scrolling Saturdays – A Post From the Past

I feel like this is the only subject I have harped on about for the past few weeks, but some of my most favourite posts are the ones I am sharing. This is one of the other posts I was thinking of re-publishing last week. It was originally written 10 August 2005.

I miss Scotland, but I’d also miss the U.S. if I wasn’t here. I know this unequivocally because I’ve experienced it in the past. I spent a year-and-a-half in PA and went home to Scotland in late November 1997. It was a rough adjustment at first. It was also a rather interesting experience. Scotland is a *touch* greener than the east coast. ‘Why’ I hear you ask? Partly due to the 150 inches of precipitation per year we experience. I missed my family greatly, and I spent the first 4 days home telling them they “talked funny”, to be met with the “you sound like that too” defensive rebuttal. I was therefore grateful I had not lost my (alleged) accent.

I also had a greater appreciation for the old architecture in Scotland, and old things in general. I had someone in Pennsylvania tell me, “This house is a hundred years old …” I tried to look awe-struck, flabbergasted — anything really. But in reality, all I could think about was the protected tree outside my church in Scotland that had been around just as long. The irony of the story was the woman showing me her home was from Hull (England) originally. Interesting.

I had been living back in the U.K. for 2 years when I decided to come back to the States, just for 6 months though. I missed something, and I still have no idea what it was. Six-and-a-half years later (at the time), I am still here, my immediate family remaining in Scotland. I was talking online to my younger brother yesterday, a blessing in itself. It’s comforting to talk to him, even if the conversation is the demise of Scottish life with the infestation of neds (non-educated delinquents, aka chavs).

During our casually ramblings, my dear brother decides to flash miniature photographs of my hometown in the Messenger window. My reaction was a lot like it has been in the past when I have seen it in pictures. I felt strange, hollow almost. Something was missing from me for that small moment. And yet, a connection, a feeling of security swept over me. It’s something I know, recognise, identify with — whatever you want to call it.

My night dreams are still based in Scotland with America mixed in for good measure. Sometimes I feel like I am in a country purgatory, neither here nor there. It’s especially noticeable to me if I watch “The Weakest Link” on BBC America and try to answer British questions, only to realise I don’t remember anything, and am so behind the times – 6 years to be exact. So I take comfort in the fact that I have somewhat of a longevity here and watch “The Weakest Link” on GSN, and I am beaten down quickly as I come to the realisation that I don’t know as much as I thought I did. Maybe I should stick with “Jay Walking” on the Leno show. I know more than those people, especially politics and American history. But then again, they never show the smart people.

Anyway, maybe I wanted to point out to myself that it’s amazing the things we all take for granted. But I really endeavour not to. With everything. I promised myself when I got married that I would always tell my husband that I loved him at least once a day, and I have lived up to my own promise, 1826 days later. It’s not a hollow “I love you” that reverberates against tall buildings or sinks in shallow waters. I treasure him, he is precious to me.

So why the introspective comments and serious demeanour of this post? I feel the need to pay homage to life, give it the respect it deserves. And in doing so, proclaim that there is nothing more strengthening or humbling than being that of an ex-pat.

Scrolling Saturdays: A Post from the Past

The following post may give a better insight to me and my immigration background, it’s a huge trackback basically. I originally wrote it 08 Dec 2006.

* * * * * * * * * * *

My hometown in Scotland

It was still dark on the 8th December 1999 when I left my tearful Mum behind standing outside our house and climbed in to the waiting taxi; two suitcases and a fairly large carry on in toe. Oh, and my ex-boyfriend. He was ‘ex’ at the time too. I had promised and reassured her that she would see me again in 3 months and not to worry about me. Little did I know at the time it would be a whopping 3 years before I would get to see her again. I was very discontented with some aspects of my life at the time. I had had a failed relationship with a man trying to be a boy, and that, in essence affected how I viewed other areas of my life. I felt like I needed a challenge, a change of scenery. I was tired of the 8-5 routine with the mundane life fluff mingled in-between.

I landed in San Francisco airport thoroughly jet-lagged and hoped that I could make it through the checkpoint convincingly. I had been there just 3 months previously on a 15-day trip and thought that might raise suspicion. After I got through, I met my friend and we travelled north to Sacramento and there I remained for the ensuing 10 months.

I quickly found out I couldn’t work and spent my days talking to a grey and white male cat and a calico female, interspersed with doing the laundry and other things to pass the time, which then became expected (with the I’m-keeping-you lecture suspended over my head). The more I did, the less I was appreciated for (follow the mantra: where much is given, much is required).

I had been in California for 3 months when I met Bryan on an online forum. We became friends instantly and chatted for as long as time would permit. Neither of us were looking for a relationship (are we ever?) and the truth be told, I was still being pestered by my ex-boyfriend (“I’ll talk to your step-dad to get your address, come get you and take you back to Scotland and marry you.” So romantic and non-appealing).

One evening near to the end of April, Bryan sent me an e-mail surprising me with his flight itinerary. We had talked about him coming to visit at some point, but I had no idea that he had actually booked everything. He was coming to meet me, and it was just weeks away. By nature, he’s a very cautious person and so his actions pleasantly surprised me. It surprised him too, as he had told me that he had never done anything spontaneous in his life.

We spent 3 great days together, our first date held at Six Flags. This impressed me no end, and any ‘great’ dates I had chalked up in the past to memory were quickly forgotten. He took me to dinner, bought me cheese (I was really liking him now), went to the Jelly Belly Factory and drove around U-turning more times than I cared to count. I didn’t mind anyway, even the silences weren’t uncomfortable, and it was easy to like him and enjoy his company.

The time together was gone in a flash and I was quickly hurtled back into reality; only this time, it wasn’t much of a reality, but more of a nightmare. I began noticing behaviours that I hadn’t seen before. My friend was dressing like me, her hair styled in the same cut and she watched me like a hawk if I happened to strike up a conversation with anyone within her line of sight or grill me if I was giving her less attention than she felt she deserved. It wasn’t long before I was uncomfortable with the arrangement, especially when she told me one evening that before she went to work she would open my bedroom door and watch me sleep. (I have 8 pages of more venting – and worse stories – still stored on my hard drive.)

I left that situation behind on 27th September 2000, headed for Utah and never looked back. If it hadn’t been for Bryan, I would have found the means to return home to Scotland. Just over 4 months later, Bryan proposed to me in downtown Salt Lake and we were married 3 months later.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 7 years now, and what was probably a hasty decision to leave Scotland at the time has turned out to be the best thing that I’ve ever done.

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

We closed on our Utah home last Thursday, selling it to a young couple purchasing their first home together.  I know I’m supposed to be happy that we finally got the double mortgage headache off our minds (and wallets), but I can’t help but feel remorse knowing that it’s finally gone.  It still feels like my home; and although we’ve hung pictures and have everything settled here, I’ll always love our first home there.  Thankfully I’ve found solace in the arms of a tiny newborn who is willing to offer unconditional love and great bear hugs whenever I need them.  There’s nothing like that quiet serenity to bring peace and calmness to a emotional day (or two).

In spite of myself, I think I’m getting used to living here.  I still miss my previous neighbourhood, but I enjoy the peace and quiet here (overlooking Ian’s noises) and the less stressful traffic.  All we have is a 4-way stop, not much else.

The biggest help has been Bryan, who makes everything all worth it.  He is my advocate, even when I least expect it.

For Valentine’s Day, he ordered some British goods from an online vendor and paid extra to have it to me on time.  Sadly, it arrived very late (and with a packing slip, complete with pricing, which he asked to be excluded).  Anyway, he wrote them an e-mail and really touched me with his words:

I was quite disappointed when I found out that the gift I had sent included a print out of the pricing which I had left instructions to not include.

In fact, I have the print out that states, “Is this a Gift?: Yes– Do not include price on packing list.”

When my wife opened the package the first thing she found was this print out with all the pricing listed on it and the total including shipping.  Not only is this embarrassing to me, but it also took away from the surprise I was trying to send her.

My wife left her family over 5 (technically 7, but we married over 5 years ago – Siobhan) years ago to move to America with me and have our two children.  As you can imagine it has not always been easy for her and she gets homesick.  We do not have the funds to visit her family much and our only communication is via e-mail and telephone.  I wanted to give her something from home, something to help her find a little taste when she was feeling homesick.  Her grandmother has been sick as of late and she wishes she was there.

To add to this complication, we recently moved to a new home and a new state in efforts to better our situation financially.  I have been saving money on the side to buy her this gift.  This money could have been used for new clothes, or to pay bills, but I wanted to do something just for her, she deserved it.

I hope by giving you this information you will better understand how much this error on your part has affected us.  We are very hurt and upset.  I have found myself wishing I had made another choice in vendors.

Bryan W.

After all that, their only response was “Sorry.”  As you can imagine, this infuriated Bryan and he’s made formal complaints against Goodwoods.com.

I’m starting to wish there was a British Imports store closeby.

Seventh Anniversary

It was still dark on the 8th December 1999 when I left my tearful Mum behind standing outside our house and climbed in to the waiting taxi; two suitcases and a fairly large carry on in toe.  Oh, and my ex-boyfriend.  He was ‘ex’ at the time too.  I had promised and reassured her that she would see me again in 3 months and not to worry about me.  Little did I know at the time it would be a whopping 3 years before I would get to see her again.

I was very discontented with some aspects of my life at the time.  I had had a failed relationship with a man trying to be a boy, and that, in essence affected how I viewed other areas of my life.  I felt like I needed a challenge, a change of scenery.  I was tired of the 8-5 routine with the mundane life fluff mingled in-between.

I landed in San Francisco airport thoroughly jet-lagged and hoped that I could make it through the checkpoint convincingly.  I had been there just 3 months previously on a 15-day trip and thought that might raise suspicion.  After I got through, I met my friend and we travelled north to Sacramento and there I remained for the ensuing 10 months.

I quickly found out I couldn’t work and spent my days talking to a grey and white male cat and a calico female, interspersed with doing the laundry and other things to pass the time, which then became expected (with the I’m-keeping-you lecture suspended over my head).  The more I did, the less I was appreciated for (follow the mantra: where much is given, much is required).

I had been in California for 3 months when I met Bryan on an online forum.  We became friends instantly and chatted for as long as time would permit.  Neither of us were looking for a relationship (are we ever?) and the truth be told, I was still being pestered by my ex-boyfriend (“I’ll talk to your step-dad to get your address, come get you and take you back to Scotland and marry you.”  So romantic and non-appealing).

One evening near to the end of April, Bryan sent me an e-mail surprising me with his flight itinerary. We had talked about him coming to visit at some point, but I had no idea that he had actually booked everything.  He was coming to meet me, and it was just weeks away.  By nature, he’s a very cautious person and so his actions pleasantly surprised me.  It surprised him too, as he had told me that he had never done anything spontaneous in his life.

We spent 3 great days together, our first date held at Six Flags.  This impressed me no end, and any ‘great’ dates I had chalked up in the past to memory were quickly forgotten.  He took me to dinner, bought me cheese (I was really liking him now), went to the Jelly Belly Factory and drove around U-turning more times than I cared to count.  I didn’t mind anyway, even the silences weren’t uncomfortable, and it was easy to like him and enjoy his company.

The time together was gone in a flash and I was quickly hurtled back into reality; only this time, it wasn’t much of a reality, but more of a nightmare.  I began noticing behaviours that I hadn’t seen before.  My friend was dressing like me, her hair styled in the same cut and she watched me like a hawk if I happened to strike up a conversation with anyone within her line of sight or grill me if I was giving her less attention than she felt she deserved.  It wasn’t long before I was uncomfortable with the arrangement, especially when she told me one evening that before she went to work she would open my bedroom door and watch me sleep.  (I have 8 pages of more venting – and worse stories – still stored on my hard drive.)

I left that situation behind on 27th September 2000, headed for Utah and never looked back.  If it hadn’t been for Bryan, I would have found the means to return home to Scotland.

Just over 4 months later, Bryan proposed to me in downtown Salt Lake and we were married 3 months later.

It’s hard to believe it’s been 7 years now, and what was probably a hasty decision to leave Scotland at the time has turned out to be the best thing that I’ve ever done.