I figured it out!


July 20, 2013 :: 8:34 PM

how is it possible for him to be so perfect?

OK.

So.

Remember those notes I took at the Matt Nathanson concert?

Particularly the note that said “look back at life, regret punches you in the face”?

I figured it out.

Took me forfuckingever, though.

I put the note right after the song title “Sky High Honey”, but since it was off of his new album, I didn’t have access to the song right away.

After listening to the song a few times, I heard these lines and…

LIGHTBULB!

I bet you’re laughing at some joke he told you. With his arm around your sunburnt shoulders. I spent the morning with my face against the window seat Looking down at all the things that got the best of me…

You know those moments when you look back at your life and regret punches you in the face? Yep.

I try not to regret the majority of things I’ve done/will do. Regret doesn’t do anything but make you feel like shit. It’s done. It’s over. Move on.

That said, I do regret a few things. But they’re important and I don’t want to delete them.

I regret not getting to know the woman my father loved so much.

I regret not going home when he was in the hospital - even though I was forbidden to. (You didn’t want to fuck with my father when he pulled rank. Remember when I talked about the games of “You Lose”?)

That’s it.

Mostly.

At least, it’s all I’m going to admit to right now…

Anyhoo, to get back on track:

I was doing OK until I heard… You wait too long, you never leave

That line, though? That fucking line?

Absolutely killed me. (Kicked me right in the feels, for you tumblr folk.)

If you don’t know why go spend some time in the archives.

I made a very conscious decision not to look for work at international companies unless the position was perfect. It wasn’t worth suffering at a shitty job hoping to hell they’d sponsor me to move overseas… and of course, because I inherited the Nelson Black Cloud of Doom (trademark pending), the companies I would have killed to work for passed me over because of…

wait for it…

THE COMMUTE INTO BOSTON.

Well, fuck you, too.

(Why do you think I got so pissy every. single. time. it came up in an interview?)

I don’t quite regret the decision to apply for jobs at local companies. It’s better knowing I don’t have a chance in hell to get sponsored by my employer instead of killing time only to find out it will never happen.

Is it stupid logic?

Probably.

All it means in the long run is that the move to London just became that much more difficult logistically.

Financially, we’re getting (back) to a position where we might be able to cross the pond more often than not. If I stay at the hotel chain, I get a really good rate at any brand under their corporate umbrella, even the international properties. Of course, worst case scenario, I have friends who would probably be more than willing to let us crash at their house if need be for a week. (This constant vacationing in the UK assumes that we don’t want to go anywhere else. Germany’s been brought up and tabled in favor of another trip to London. A few times.)

More importantly, if we can figure out how to do it, there’s always the option to use the 6 month visitor visa.

Consistently.

Why not pack up and move every six months or so? Snowbirds do it. Why can’t we?

——

Unrelated. Kinda.

I’m the end of a Hitchcock movie: A little dark and a lot confusing. I’m the last of the worst pretenders. So lost, so lost…

(Since I’m listening to Matt and this song came on, I figured why the hell not? “Mission Bells” is my favorite song. This week.)