O.E.B

Writer, Bookbinder, Poet.

[create-ninety]

Wednesday 19th June, ‘19

The roller-coaster never ends. There I was, yet again, thinking the decision itself was the most complicated part of the process. How wrong I was! I hadn’t tried to buy a car in the UK!

Finding the right car was relatively easy. Discovering that my international license is an automatic disqualifier for reasonable insurance premiums was not. And learning that the process of switching my NZ license to a UK one might be relatively straightforward – but that, in doing so, I am automatically listed as a ‘new driver’ and therefore subject to equally extortionate premiums.

Ignore the fact I got my license aged 15. It’s irrelevant.

Also, it appears that insurance is somehow linked to credit score. Which, by default – as an immigrant – is low. It’s low because I’m eligible to vote in the general election… which is impossible for me, as I’m not a UK citizen! Ignore the fact all my bills and credit card payments are made on time. That’s irrelevant.

I honestly cannot get over the ridiculous bureaucratic nonsense that defies logic and pragmatism to satisfy the system.

“It’s just how it is in the system. I can’t change it.”

This kind of thinking, language, or belief garners automatic disrespect and hatred on my behalf. Systems are designed by people, for people, and can therefore be changed by people. This idea that some computerised system somehow has more power and authority than an actual person is utterly ridiculous. Fine – have a system, have a damn process, but don’t lock it to the point that it’s impossible for the user to change it. Argh!

As a result, I now have:

-       A three week wait for my license to be switched to a UK one, during which time I start the new job

-       An insurance premium likely to cost £2,500. The same price as the car.

-       Booked an Airbnb for the first week of the job so that I can avoid a 2 hour, £40 a day return train journey.

There isn’t much room to worry about the severity of the work in this moment. My financial situation is dire. I have back pedal significantly before I can even consider planning and saving for the future.

*

Last night Lucie and I saw Fleetwood Mac at Wembley Stadium. It was an experience we knew would be a stand-out memory in our lives; we may never have the opportunity to see them again. We were quite far from the stage but could still see Stevie Nicks dancing wistfully around the stage, her long sleeves and shawls visible even from our little chairs high up in the stand. Their sound was powerful and intense and at times, even emotional. It’s a thrilling experience to see artists at the pinnacle of creative success. Art spanning decades… getting into the heads of hundreds of millions of people. Connecting strangers to such a degree that fifty thousand people can sing the words to in unison. It’s a special and somewhat transcendent experience.

It makes me desperate to get on with my next book. I don’t want to lag behind or waste time that could be better spent creating art. But there’s a reality I can’t escape. And so yes, I am choosing the fastest, hardest and painful method to get ahead. But it gets me ahead and that’s what matters.

[create-ninety]

Throwback to my beautiful wife trying on wedding outfits. I don't know what I did in a previous life to deserve the love of such a wonderful human but gee effin wizz am I gonna cherish it forever and ever 😻💐❤️🏝️ . . . . . . . . . #createninety #observations #eastlondon #london #wives #mrsandmrs #wife #love #marriage #wedding #lgbtwedding (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/By2f-73n8RP/?igshid=18iqu9ytxi0am

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Friday 7th June, ’19. 7pm.

I can kiss goodbye to writing and anything that resembles ‘balance’. Apparently life only exists at two ends of the spectrum for me at all times.

The hours on the film job are going to be ridiculous. I’ll probably have to stay overnight nearby the studio twice a week. Driving the long commute at the end of an impossibly long day isn’t sensible.

It’s only three months. Only three months. Only three months. It’s like inverted garden leave. It’s my sentence for taking time off. It’s the cost of the freedom I just had.

I feel like my hands are tied. I want to be excited about the prospect of working on a film set. But the truth is, I don’t care at all. I don’t care if there are going to be famous actors around. That I’m seeing inside some coveted business. All I care about is whether or not it can give me more freedom at the end of it. I keep imagining it’ll be this thing I’ve been waiting for: interesting, creative, mentally challenging (in the right way), lucrative. Such a thing doesn’t exist. Someone told me that the hours as a shoot coordinator are the worst. The money is the best, but it comes at a cost. The cost is – your personal life.

It’s only three months. It’s only three months. It’s an injection of money, yes. And that’s the point. But what comes next? This looming, empty darkness. A blank canvas. A long road with shimmering heat coming off the road. It doesn’t matter what metaphor you throw at this problem. It remains just that: a problem.

How much is money worth? Is it worth not seeing your partner much? Is it worth exhaustion? Bad health? Is it worth the sacrifice so you can have something else in the future?

What is the answer? And why can’t I just settle on it?

I often get far too obsessed with the bigger picture. I spend so much time with my head in the future, picturing what I would want my present self to be doing, based on whatever vision I have constructed in that moment. So – when that vision changes, which it does often, it shifts what I think my present state should be. It’s a constant state of restlessness and disappointment. I move these thirty-year goal posts and it ripples through time and knocks me off my feet right now. How silly is that? But I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember. That method has pushed me along, physically, so far, to great heights. Whatever is my greatest dream for the future directly influences the path that I walk today. But what if that picture keeps changing? Or if it’s dark? Or blurry? How do I orient myself in the moment? The picture changes every five fucking minutes.

Because the truth is, we don’t live thirty years in the future. I’m alive now and I’m living my healthiest, youngest years now, and I am too obsessed with getting it right. I feel like I’ve fucking tried everything and I’m still standing there in a room full of doors, spinning around like a crazy person, trying to decide which one to open, while hating the room and resenting the fact that they’re doors in the first place.

Why do we have this stupid working week structure in the first place? Why does everyone go along with it? We are the most intelligent and technologically advanced civilisation whoever lived (that we know it), and yet we choose to spend our precious time grafting like we’re slaves? All this shit – expensive shit that is totally superfluous to living life – just chains us to these working weeks. Months and years, all sliced up nicely so all the little minions can slave away at their spreadsheets and move their pretend ‘assets’ around. I hate this game! Imagine – sitting next to someone you don’t know and don’t like, seeing them more than your spouse! At an uncomfortable chair in front of a computer! SITTING ALL DAY! In a square room! With bare walls! And aircon! Board rooms! Carpets! Glass doors! No art! No music! No connection! No poetry! No colour! No fucking colour! No texture to life! Just a fucking boring, boring, boring, waste of a life!

[create-ninety]

Tuesday 21st May, ’19. 1pm.

Some endings are quiet.

Sunlight is pouring through our open bedroom window. I’m laying down, the only sound that of my breathing and a plane up in the sky. It’s almost impossible to imagine how different tomorrow will be. I’m not even telling myself to soak up the last moments; I’m not forcing myself to ‘enjoy it’. I’m just letting it rest. Letting it be. It doesn’t matter what I do, what I think, what I say… the sun will rise tomorrow and it’ll be the end of something and the beginning of something else.

My writing time is over. My experimental living time is over. I’ve had five months – more than a gift, more than an opportunity – to figure a few things out about my life. And… have I figured things out? Can I really even attempt to answer that now? Or does it take a while to fully appreciate the experience and draw everything out of it? I suspect the latter.

It’s hard not to feel like I could have done more. Yes, I published a book – but I could have sold more copies. I could have made more headway on the sequel. I could have pushed harder, earlier, to get into a bindery. I could have secured a part-time job sooner to avoid the financial stress and pressure. I could have spent more time submitting work to competitions. I could have played more guitar, learned more French, kept the house even tidier. I could have tried more business ventures.

But those are all things I only realise now, at the end. Could haves aren’t very helpful. I should focus more on the learned things, which is harder to do, because it involves a degree of self-praise which is painful at best and cringe-inducing at worst.

I’m going to attempt to ask myself anyway.

What did I learn?

I learned that I have the discipline and the focus to see a writing project through to the end if it’s what I set my mind to. That, if possible, I would pursue writing at the exclusion of every and any other career path. I learned that I can be exceptionally perfectionistic when it concerns something artistic, and that striving for perfection (but accepting it is unattainable) is still important to strive for. It keeps me trying to be better.

I learned that I love to take care of the people I love. That it brings me joy to make meals, keep a house functioning, and just generally make sure everyone has what they need. This was surprising to me – that I could find pleasure in something I once thought mundane (cooking); that I didn’t mind repetitive tidying as much as I thought I might. Overall, being the person who ‘looks after’ things was something that gave me joy and I genuinely felt like I added value in a different way.

I learned that, when possible, I like to take things slow. I like to start my day when I wake up naturally. I like to have little routines and appreciate things like the way the light hits the house, the way coffee tastes, and listen to good music. I like to adapt what I’m doing to my energy level, my creative motivations, and I like to listen to lectures and educational talks when doing anything with my hands. This is perhaps the most self-indulgent, pleasure-seeking way to live; and yet, living this way, I produced my most beautiful books, intense creative results, and best meals. It was living like this that made me calm and able to socialise without restriction. It’s clear why: this is living without stress. This is what a day without stress, obligation, duty, and depression looks like.

[create-ninety]

Maui Confronts and Scares a Small Dogue: An Epic Tale 😂🐈🗡️ . . . . . . . . #createninety #observations #eastlondon #london #hackney #hackneywick #mauiandluna #kittensofinstagram #scottishfold #cat #cats #cats_of_instagram #cute #hujicam #dog #wives (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByYQi4DplT5/?igshid=1i6hvyxxcrxcp

[create-ninety]

third highlight:

accidentally hanging up on an external call

[create-ninety]

second highlight:

pretending to leave a voicemail 

[create-ninety]

highlight of day so far:

a lawyer choking on a blossom petal.

[create-ninety]

Monday 3rd June, ’19. 7:30pm.

The winds of change blow steadily behind me. Today I had a phone conversation with a potential new team on project that could start as soon as Monday. It would be a new chapter, indeed, and I am actually finding myself anticipating it. I’ve had enough of not making any money at all. Visions of the next few months – what could be accomplished – have become crisp and sharp, not like the place of misty dreams and potential could-be’s I’ve been living in. While this temporary job has been good as an interim, I am already bored of it. I am tired of asking for help and I am anxious to move forward. I hope that perhaps I am starting to put two feet on the ground and looking at the world at eye-level, not from above or from below. This picture of being an artist, of being a wife, of being a functioning member of society, it shifts like moving water. Compulsion, duty, responsibility, instability… I miss alcohol so much, as for so long it was the dial that turned the volume and frequency of my thoughts down to near-silence. Trying to figure out how to distract myself long enough to enjoy a moment for what it is requires herculean effort. But I practice, every day, and some days it’s easier than others.

Anyway, I have made something that resembles a decision, and am acting like it’s happening, so I suppose that masks as a certainty of sorts.

[create-ninety]

Patiently waiting 👀⏳ . . . . . . . . #createninety #observations #eastlondon #london #hackney #hackneywick #mauiandluna #kittensofinstagram #scottishfold #cat #cats #cats_of_instagram #cute #home #house #love #wives (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByLE17cH6EK/?igshid=oc5mwrq88cf0

[create-ninety]

Thursday 30th May ‘19, 9am.

Here’s a list of all the jobs/ideas/business propositions I’ve thought are genuinely viable options in the past year:

-       Author (made back what I invested in the first book; profits too small to even consider living off; pursuing anyway)

-       Creative writing classes for children (pursued until booking office space; was going to be too expensive and time-consuming)

-       A historical art/walking tour in East London (researched, created and executed: failed, no takers)

-       A freelance bookbinder (active but slow-going; not enough to sustain living; pursuing)

-       Poetry writing by the Thames (pursued until permit granted; tried one round, was successful. Haven’t been back.)

-       An app for self-published writers (thoughts/notes only)

-       Teaching English online (created profiles; no hits)

-       Tutorials for high school kids (visited physical tutorial centres; no interest in what I could offer)

-       Becoming an electrician (thoughts/research/notes only; considered on more than one occasion)

-       Online transcribing (started; terrible pay; not worth it)

-       Creating an online training programme for VFX Production (thoughts/research only; a huge amount of work.)

- Training as a swimming teacher.

I’ve had days where I think every single one of these things is possible and could be pursued to its greatest extent. I’ve had days where I’ve focused on one and one only, thinking that all the other ideas would fail and were stupid. I’ve had days where I believe my idea of success is writing novels at all costs. I’ve then woken up and thought about how selfish that position is, and that my main focus should be obtaining security and stability for my family. I’ve had days that I’ve woken up and felt all of the above: certainty beyond doubt, and nothing but doubt. It is exhausting. Especially when these feelings aren’t divided between one day and the next; sometimes, it’s the difference between morning and evening. Or the beginning of a train ride and the end of it.

I know that the thread of truth runs through all of this, somewhere, in amongst all the idealism and the grand plans. It requires the utmost effort to battle each of the pillars that could hold up my life. They are all equally compelling in their own way. What is the most unsettling is the instability of it all. Not being able to find the truth makes me afraid. Perhaps because I know, on some level, it isn’t about finding truth at all – it’s about creating it. This is all about choice. It’s about acknowledging that the forest, the sea, the castle and the sky are all beautiful and frightening in their own way. All four options offer something and demand something in return. At a certain point you have to face one and walk, and accept your choice, and not worry about the places you could have gone but chose not to.

And maybe we occupy each of those places at different times in our lives. I can’t know yet.

I’ve made a decision. At least, one decision, that will set us on a particular trajectory. I’m going back to film temporarily. Not VFX specifically – I vowed I wouldn’t do that, and I’m standing by it – but to the Production side. The money is double. It’s contract-based. Taking one of these jobs will set us up for the next life stage: saving for a family, getting my student loan cleared, and putting money aside for my next book. I’ve had to abandon, for now, the idea that I could split up a working week and enjoy ‘balance’. Out of sheer desperation I’m currently a temporary receptionist (‘client services’) at law firm by St Pauls.

 Even after a week here I can say with certainty that a mindless part-time job is only a temporary solution. As a long term strategy, working part-time might give me ‘free time’ to pursue writing, but would create a whole host of other problems that would become much more pressing as time goes on.

And so, in a way, I have already made up my mind. The details are still scattered and choosing the ‘right’ project feels daunting in itself, but I’m starting to feel a tiny bit better knowing there is a plan.

[create-ninety]

Wednesday 29th May, ’19, 9:30am

This time a week ago was my first day at my temporary job in the city. I’ll admit – I don’t mind it. It’s quiet, the responsibilities are simple, and it allows me to think and have time to myself. St Paul’s is visible from my desk. It stands like a giant limestone wave, its intricately carved pillars and fringing impressive and imposing. Through the glass double doors is a garden terrace; the stage of many important ‘client parties’ and events, lawyers and their clients get to enjoy the view with free alcohol a couple of times a week. I have been told that the terrace is reserved for client-affiliated events and meetings only. Certainly not for us lowly dwellers on the front desk, or any of the other junior associates or secretaries.

The hours are good. This week I have all the early shifts. I get to come in for 8am and turn everything on, set everything up, and check the rooms are clean and ready. There’s a lot of checking in this job. Check this, check that. It’s fussy, busy-work, but it requires such little mental effort that the majority of my brain can be left to thinking about other things. Which I like. Even though the money is tremendously average, just knowing that some is coming in at all is a relief. And it’s wonderfully relaxing to come in to an empty, quiet, naturally-lit space without stress.

I’ve made a decision. I don’t like it, at all, but after weighing up all the pros and cons and agonising over it for plenty of time, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot afford to work part-time at this stage of my life. Dreams and reality have collided in brilliant fashion, leaving me scrambling around in the dirt trying to see if any rough diamonds fell out of the impact.

The dream of being a writer full-time – of pursuing art in all its forms – versus wanting a family and providing. I certainly don’t think it’s an either/or situation, but it certainly won’t be a black and white pathway to attainment. After experiencing both ends of the spectrum – of paid, full-time, demanding work – and complete artistic freedom – it is now much easier to understand this often talked about concept of balance. I think it’s easy, when you’re in the state of one extreme or the other, to idealise and believe that the answers lie in the exact opposite of whatever it is that you’re desperate to run away from. But this is naïve and idealistic thinking.

I’ve wanted to escape this so-called ‘capitalist working-week’ for a long time. But it’s so tricky not to fall back into those mind-sets when making plans. For instance: the concept of balance itself. Why is it that my idea of balance is still tied to the standard working week? As in… thinking that I need to work three or four days on, and then three or four off. That’s still locking yourself to the concept of a seven-day week. Well – maybe that needs to be done away with altogether, in my case. Perhaps balance – for the sake of satisfying all areas of life – looks like one year on, one year off? Or… six months on, three months off. Or whatever combination it needs to be in order to achieve what needs to be achieved. It is tempting to look at the weekend as some kind of respite. A reward for the effort put in across the five other days. But as I have realised, and learned, it’s not as simple as saying “I want to work in employment half the time to make an income, and have half the time off to pursue something else.” Half of what, exactly? The day? The hour? The ‘week’? I think it should be up for redefinition entirely. For me, at least.

[create-ninety]

🦊🦊🦊 @hackney_wick_creatives . . . . . . . #createninety #observations #eastlondon #london #hackney #hackneywick #streetart #hackneywickcreatives #art #fox (at Hackney Wick) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx-l0_SH4Ba/?igshid=1vq51nn9vhxtm

[create-ninety]

Lunch time exploring around my temporary work environment 📸 . . . . . . . #createninety #observations #london #stpauls #architecture #millenialbridge #londoncity #londoncityworld #history #huji #hujicam #londonlife #theshard #shard (at St. Paul's Cathedral) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxxmcOpACyJ/?igshid=1u4e5ko4onw2x

[create-ninety]

Omg people on the tube with no spacial awareness: get any closer and I'm gonna fucking throw that ugly ass bag on the tracks

[create-ninety]

Just your locals gays taking their cats for a walk in the park 🌈🏞️ . . . . . . . . . #createninety #observations #eastlondon #london #mauiandluna #kittensofinstagram #scottishfold #cat #cats #cats_of_instagram #cute #playground #outdoors #cat #lgbt #wives (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxvIRPMgUjq/?igshid=1idu97484lu3k

[create-ninety]

"This is the book I didn't even *know* I was waiting for. Not only is the front cover so cool and unusual, like me (I mean - how many cats do you know with eyes as orange as these?) but the character went on a journey that forever changed me. I am dying to know what happens next. Apparently O.E.B is already writing the sequel so I'll just have to wait patiently. But if you don't have one already, you should definitely order a copy of Drinking the Ocean. Personally I went for the ebook version because turning pages with paws is a challenge. Love, Maui." Maui just finished Drinking the Ocean and seems to have loved it! Have you read it yet? Get your copy www.createninety.com ❤️ . . . . . . #createninety #observations #eastlondon #london #author #authorsofinstagram #publishedauthor #bookmaker #bookbinding #books #cats #cats_of_instagram #cute #book #goodread #lgbtlondon #lgbtauthor #drinkingtheocean #queerfiction #queer #lesbianwriter #lesbian #yanovel #yaauthors #ya #scottishfold #mauiandluna #kittensofinstagram #scottishfolds #writersofinstagram #writer #poet #catreview (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxpBDHjgMFk/?igshid=iipdggd5jjsu