state of the raven

So from conversations I had over the weekend with various people, it seems as though I have been sufficiently internet-quiet for people not to know where I am, and what I'm up to, and whatnot. So, er, hi. I aten't dead. I've been back in the UK for nearly three months, and am still in the place where I am very glad to be back and miss the States with an unromantic ache like a toothache, in that it waxes and wanes and sometimes I almost forget I spent the last year in another country and other times I wish I could turn around and be back in Ithaca, back in New York, back in last September and that crisp and perfect fall.

I have spent the last three months doing nothing at all. This is not true. I have been trying and failing to be a good daughter - my mother and I are not getting on very well at the moment, but better when I'm not actually living in my parents' house - and doing somewhat better at being a good granddaughter. Due to a genealogical quirk, my grandfather on my mother's side has three grandchildren somewhat spread in age. I received my Masters degree the same summer his youngest granddaughter was getting the hang of consonants. But I'm hoping that he appreciated my company. He's not doing so well, healthwise, and I spent a lot of days in July, just reading, keeping an eye on him, and talking to him about whatever he wanted to talk about: the last Stieg Larsson novel, Congress's foreign policy, my career plans. His Hindi is as bad as mine, so we talk in English. My mother and grandmother underestimate him, all the time, which perturbs me.

(Case in point: they were arguing some time ago about why a particular cousin hasn't got married yet.

"Maybe he's shy," my mother said, in Bangla.

"Maybe he doesn't know what to say to girls," my grandmother said.

"Maybe no one's asked him if he's gay," my grandfather said, in English for my benefit.)

They return to India today, and I'm glad they came. But still, after several weeks of family time, I was glad to come home. It's probably hormonal or a response to never living anywhere more than nine months in six years or something like that, but I feel like I'm finally living somewhere and being at home at the same time. I've never lived with a partner before, but it makes sense and it's right and Shim and I fight more about the washing up than we used to, but we used to go six months without seeing each other and change is good. We live in this quiet, sweet suburban flat; our next door neighbours have small children and dogs, and everything is quiet as the grave after dark and I love it, I do. We have bookcases, uplighters, candles, lamps. Everything is full of light. We're rewatching The West Wing and I'm happy.

So, I came home, and I spent August writing the first 25,000 words of a novel. I'm really, really hoping I can manage to finish it, and I'm feeling good that I got this far. The month's winding down and I had a lovely Bank Holiday weekend; today gavagai and I went to Notting Hill Carnival and came back cheerful and trailing a miasma of cannabis smoke. Last night she showed me the first X-Men film, and cheerfully tweeted everything I bemusedly said about it. (It all made sense about twenty minutes in! It's about a tragic love affair between the two old guys!) I kind of want to watch the next one, now. Oh, and we had dinner with friends tonight, and I saw apotropaios and anotherusedpage for the first time since I came back from the States, and it was just a perfect evening.

In exactly one week, I start my training contract. This is my first job at above minimum wage; it's my first nine-to-five job, it's my first time doing something that really matters. I'm excited and terrified and I don't know what to wear and I guess, it's all things at the brink of things.