A phone call brought it to a head. This has been going on for too long, and still the smokescreen persists, was the complaint. There wasn't much I could say in return. It was all true, all points were valid and needed immediate addressing. Flucha hung up and I got going writing, remedying past injustices.
The trigger was the New Year's post where I envisioned the year to come, sketching the things that might happen and letting a projection of myself dream a bit. As befits my blog, the freewheeling vehicle of my vanity, I wrote only about myself. Today, over the course of a long conversation, I realized what it means to look at the result with the eyes of the mysterious other person that has been implied long enough but never mentioned explicitly.
I didn't go to Cornwall by myself. Frequent trips to Marseille were not taken solely for the beauty of Provence. A we that keeps cropping up as if it had a will of its own. Three indicators that things are not as they used to be, that they are in fact very different from when this blog was started. The list could be expanded ad libitum.
I've been with Flucha for several years, the last of it, thanks to the vagaries of academic careers, long-distance. Continuing despite the separation was not an easy option, but quick and reasonably priced direct flights between London and Marseille made it at least bearable. Now we stand stronger and with a vision for the future.
Here in London, I've three months left. My search for the ideal next position hasn't led to it yet, but I'm not fretting. My goals are high; I would never settle for second best, never in any context. If I have to take a break from work for a month or two, the world wouldn't end. Life, in contrast, might even improve – once make the journey down to Marseille one last time, with all my possessions in tow.
All posts of this blog are filed under the fictionalized label. That's what it says on the tin – or, to be precise, at the top of the page, directly below the title. But this post is less fictionalized than any other, and certainly much less than the appalling post that, by a tortuous chain of events, led to this one.