In Transit, Apparently

 4 min. read

January flows into February and the gradual tell tale signs of a seasonal transition become more apparent. Temperatures are still appropriately low for this time of year (which is a strange relief given how unseasonably warm February has been in recent years). Yet nightfall tarries ever so slightly and we no longer have to wait until 8am to see the sun. Perversely, the late sunrise is probably the aspect of Northern European winter I appreciate the most. The darkness helps my mind and body understand I need rest. My sleep hygiene is already compromised as it is. When it’s bright, it’s much harder to get some shut eye, particularly in the early hours. Spring and summer also tend to be busier, thus the desire to rest diminishes with the increased activity as well as daylight. 

I like to believe during winter, I can make up for some of the sleep I’ll lose at other points in the year. Not that I’m doing so well on that front, in any case. It’s the same old issue of heavy mental traffic. I have found that crossing the threshold into my naughty-40s, current life challenges and a general malaise make it even more difficult to still the mind. I persevere with meditative practices and therapeutic self-care. Whilst they no doubt take the edge off the worst of it, the beneficial effects of these habits are probably more long term than immediate.

On the practical end, I continue to put myself out there professionally. In late January, I am invited to an online interview for a remote position based in the US. Currently, my application process is split between roles of genuine interest and those for which I’m just going through the motions. This particular post falls into the latter category (as have a number of my most recent callbacks). The organisation does great work but I wouldn’t really be part of that. More of an administrative lackey with mediocre pay. I nevertheless try to prepare well for the interview. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing properly. 

I’m interviewed by two women, one of whom is the incoming president of the organisation. I had expected to meet her predecessor. I didn’t realise the turnover of that role was so swift. 

The two interviewers unwittingly fall into a good-cop-bad-cop dynamic. I don't appreciate the incumbent president's line of questioning. It makes me all the more apprehensive about joining this team. I’m told I’ll receive a response the following week. 

Hmm. Enough time elapses between the online screening and verdict for me to lose track of when exactly I was interviewed. 

It’s hard to read the situation. I’ve experienced delays even when the outcome was favourable, such as when I was previously recruited by TTUO. More recently however, I’ve begun to perceive it as poor etiquette when employers take inordinately long to update me. It doesn’t augur well. It’s thus a relief of sorts when, over a fortnight after being interviewed, this recruiter confirms what I’d already suspected; they’ve gone for another candidate. My hopes of resuming employment in February have faded even before I’m invited for that ill-fated interview. My morale plummets again. I focus my energies on getting back into work in March. TBC.

In the meantime, I endeavour as always to use my time constructively. I keep my mind active through sharpening my French and Portuguese language skills. I try to refresh my knowledge around my MA in Sociocultural Linguistics as well as other areas of study. I am not messing around with my workout regimen either, recently adding Body Combat to my routine. I ache in all the right places after my first session.

I ease into my political year with a New Year’s evening ceremony organised by the Belgian Worker’s Party (PTB). There I bump into Augustin – who convinced me to join – his wife, as well as a young Franco-Brazilian who, by some pleasing coincidence – I’ve met a couple of nights previously at a live music event. More on that later. 

The following month, I'll attend a two-day workshop on reimagining immigration policies in a more humane way at the Beurs culture venue. At the start I have the impression of walking into a parody on contemporary Western society. Participants seem to compete with each other for the most distinctive gender and/or queer identities. I quietly ignore the instruction to indicate my preferred pronouns. It feels inauthentic and like virtue signalling. However, once we get into the nitty-gritty of national and international policy and their underlying ideology, it's a lot more engaging, not to mention informative. It's good to find points of commonality in anti-imperialism and our desire for just migration laws.

Also in February, I attend a donations-based Brunch organised by Amitié Sans Frontières; a Migrants’ rights campaign group. I invite Cindy, a member of my church home group along for what turns out to be a slightly chaotic but aimable event of live music, rousing speeches and deliciously eclectic food. Elsewhere, I’ve resumed activities with the gender deconstruction (GD) group run by Bruno and his hottie of a partner-in-overturning-the-patriarchy, Miguel. More specifically, I’m attending this term’s Book Club discussion about bell hooks’ Will to Change (at the time of writing, my own copy is MIA at Karin’s house). Fortunately, my erstwhile friend Lorenzo – also part of the GD network - has given this particular event a miss. Apart from seeing him at the Group’s New Year’s meet-up - where we merely exchange a hasty farewell - we’ve not interacted since crossing paths at a summer 2022 silent retreat.