BAFTFT 9:

Written by Jessica George

More than anything, this last year in America has taught me patience. Moving in with a family in rural North Carolina after living with three kiwi gents in a slightly dingy (see: well-loved/hated & rat-infested) Auckland flat meant a drastic change to my lifestyle.

For the first five months back in the States, I lived with my sister, her husband and my six year old niece. They were kind enough to let me stay in their massive and charming house in the historic district of downtown Monroe, North Carolina in exchange for me acting as a nanny. Having to keep my cool for five months when there were no gallery openings or music gigs to attend (well, at least not ones a 20-something would be interested in, hello rustic crafts!) gave me insight into what I am really made of when it comes down to patience and to keeping myself sane. I am a very impulsive person. It comes with the territory of being passionate and well, maybe even a touch immature at times. I like to think it is a charming, exciting quirk instead of a flaw.  Over the course of those five months I slowly and sometimes hesitantly learned that a lot of good things take time to develop or to create.

Although I have now thankfully relocated to a town with a few more bars, venues and galleries, the patience and thoughtful planning strategies I learnt while in near solitude in Monroe have come in handy. I have been applying to graduate school,* a massive, frontal lobe crushing, money guzzling hassle. I applied and I waited, then I waited a bit more.  This is where my patience had to kick in. I was rejected. The best remedy for nursing my pride and clearing my head? A trip to the northeast USA. There is nothing like leaving your life behind, letting your thoughts simmer and spending some time swept up in the hustle and bustle of a big city. I chose two of my favorite US cities for R&R and D&F (drinking and friends); NYC and Boston.

I met my friend Miss Wolf, who coincidentally is a young adult librarian, in New York City; the place of dreams, nightmares and a lot of strange smells. It proved to be the perfect place to remove my brain and allow it some space. Jenna and I ate our way around the city. Mussels, french fries, cupcakes, nachos... we went where the menu took us, whether that was a takoyaki bar or a quaint Belgian cafe. In addition to food, we indulged in art.  The Sketch 4 Sketch Tour is an art tour with artists Alex Pardee and Dave Correia roaming the USA, creating drawings on the spot for anyone who brings them one. A great concept but surely tiring for both artist and art enthusiast?  I waited 6 hours in line! Although I could have left, my newly found patience emerged and the line became a fun place to chit chat, make new friends, have a homeless man sing at me, come up with a new dance (which may have somehow summoned aforementioned homeless man) and heckle someone, from a safe distance away, who may have been both drunk and tripping. And In return for my six hour wait, I was given two drawings of perverted and demented looking narwhals. What fun!

After two days in chaotic and intoxicating New York, I was ready to find my heart in Boston. There is no other city in the United States that feels more like home than Boston. The extreme ups and downs of city life there are what have plunged me into my manic relationship with Boston – the frigid weather, the mind-melting heat of summer, the rats poking around old apartment buildings, the smelly garbage piles on Allston’s streets, the cool, stale air in subway trains, the docks down by the Charles River in the afternoon in spring, the big, bright, retro bulbs of liquor stores that cast red light through brownstone bay windows, the endless supply of well-crafted beer, the smell of laundry creeping up out of apartment buildings during winter.  I drank, I read comics in bed and I  reconnected with old friends who are never shy to tell me they want me to move back. Boston is a dreamy nightmare that I am madly in love with and in this visit it electrocuted my senses enough to provide me with big picture perspective.

I didn’t get into graduate school the first time around but to become defeated and lost is the easy route to take. Sure, it would involve a lot less paperwork, but it wouldn’t be a very satisfying. I returned to Carrboro and began searching for other opportunities. And guess what? I found them. I’ll let you know how the sexy librarian look works out when I am partaking in my online classes at Florida State University in the Fall.

*  In what you ask? Well, that’s not really pertinent to the article but I will indulge, mostly because every time I tell people I am greeted by the same reaction - confusion and even a bit of disappointment. They all seemed to think I would become a professional hula hooper/cupcake bakery owner. I am applying to study children’s librarianship. That’s right, everyone take a moment to let that settle in. Those who know me or have been reading this column know my choice is probably mostly based on the awesome fashion choices I can make once established in this new profession: thick black glasses, pencil skirts, flowery blouses and kitten heels. Take that.