Aug. 3rd, 2010

fox_in_the_library: (trixie)
So. There is flat drama. Much of which isn't about to be gone into, but, very rapidly - this is my current situation.

As of October 1st, we will all be moving. I will either be going a) to Glasgow to commence a Master's in Library Science at the University of Strathclyde, or b) to go hang out on my parents couch in Ontario while I apply to various library schools and employment sectors in Canada. My parents don't know this yet. They're still in blissful ignorance on holiday in the reception-less South Shore of Nova Scotia. However, I don't think they'll be too fussed if it ends up being the latter option that pans out. My grandparents are actually really thrilled at the thought that I might be coming back to Canada; my grandfather has even said that I can sleep in the basement. (It's furnished.) He also volunteered my aunt's basement. I said that he may wish to ask my aunt before moving me and my books in...

I love Edinburgh. I do, it's a great city. The only problem is that the economy is rubbish, and temp work is only just paying the bills. It's not letting me save anything for the future, or actually have a life outside of work due to limited funds and unpredictable hours. I've reached a point where I can't really live like this anymore, and as awesome and supportive as my flatmates are, we all ultimately (by mutual agreement over dinner and wine) have decided that we all need to be selfish and put ourselves and our respective situations first and act accordingly.

Plan A, in an ideal world, is to get into Strathclyde. This would be really excellent. My application's almost done. I only have to finish the personal statement and get copies of my transcripts.

Plan B (the Contingency Plan of Extremis): Go through all of my stuff. Pack up all of my stuff. Ship all of my stuff. Ship myself back to my parents. Apply to the University of Western Ontario for either a January or a May entrance; apply to Toronto and McGill for September entrances. In the meantime, pick up work over the holiday rush (possibilities: retail at Limeridge Mall, coffee-making at The Second Cup, or hopefully My Dog Joe, which is a nice studenty cafe; see what sort of admin/library/assistant posts come up at Mac). Hamilton's possibilities are highly, highly limited, but, if my aunt was up for it, I could actually live in her basement and hopefully find work in Toronto...

I don't know, guys, I'm trying not to feel too low or stressed out, but being almost thirty (okay, still in my late 20s) and having to go home and live with your parents because you can't get a freaking job is pretty damn depressing.  I'm holding onto the fact that it's really, really not just me - one of my coworker's daughters, with a doctorate in chemical engineering, (an employable field if ever there was one, you'd think) has been unemployed since she graduated. That was a year ago. She's moved back in with her parents.  And every single day at work I have conversations with customers who have been made redundant and who have been unemployed for three months or four, or six, or nine, and who are trying and trying to find themselves something, anything, and who are in the same position as me. There are simply no jobs. The last reception position I applied for had 360 other applicants.  Everyone I know is reading oral and/or economic histories of the 1930s, trying to find methods of coping.  I, personally, am taking comfort in the fact that John Steinbeck only got through the Depression because his father owned a small cottage on the Californian coast which he lent to his son, rent-free. Which is how I'm attempting to view the prospect of moving home. I know plenty of people who were still living at home in their mid-late twenties because they simply couldn't/can't afford to move out, so why should my predicament be any different?  In fact, Actor Girl, who is coming to visit me in less than two weeks (\o/\o/\o/\o/!!!!!!), still lives with her mother, because Toronto rents are through the ever-lovin' roof.

So, in the best case scenario, I get into Strathclyde with a bit of funding, but, in the good old-fashioned spirit of keeping one's chin up, and In an effort to forestall the serotonin level drop which is surely about to occur, I hereby bring you the Pros of Plan B

1. I'd get to see my parents on (an all too regular) basis.
2. I'd get to see friends who I normally only see once a year, if that, on a much more regular basis.
3. I'd be able to attend my cousin's wedding next spring without it being the financial hassle that it otherwise could be.
4. The British contingent are already making plans for the Great Canadian Road Trip, and one would hate to disappoint them.
5. ...I'm sure that I had a fifth point earlier, but I can't think what it was now.

The other thing about Plan B is the following: As much as I love Great Britain, the older I get, the more I do think about returning to Canada. Mostly  this is because I am an only child and my parents aren't getting any younger. So, going back to Canada was always sort of on the cards at some point, I just hadn't thought it would be quite as soon as this.  

My grandparents have actually been pretty awesome over the last couple of conversations I've had with them (they're my de facto canvassing audience since my parents are out of town), and we talked a lot about their emigrations and childhoods and growing up with limited options due to a terrible economy. They're also helpful for reminding me that I have a safety net when so many people don't. I might have to go home, but I have a home, I have multiple homes, with people who love me and who are supportive and practical in equal measures, to go to.  This helps. A lot.

Right. Now I have to stop being maudlin and go finish that application and email my references, and  have a trawl through Western's requirements...

Hope everyone else's week is going considerably better than mine, and take care.

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February 2011

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