Offsign

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Hello again Reader,

If you are reading this on Saturday, 7th of March, it means I’ve been able to post this before I’ve signed off.

At the moment I’m about an hour and a half away from berthing, and I’ll be hopping aground and going to the train station soon after. Timetables, as they always do, have hopped skipped and bumped back and forth and only now, with the pilot on board and the quay in sight, can I confidently say that I’m going home today. Originally I’d be on my way home by now, on the train back up north, but due to the ever-fickle nature of maritime schedules you’re receiving this around 12:45.

Also, as a sidenote, the terrible curse of the “final night of contract” struck me BAD. This curse sees one have the worst nights of sleep before crew change, and in my case I didn’t sleep a wink, meaning that as of writing, I’ve been up for thirty odd hours give or take. So forgive my typos and weird phraseology.

Honestly, most of this post, (apart from the paragraphs above), is being written the day prior by past Nicholas, who is only in a state of potential. As in he is not quite sure if the schedule will hold and he’ll get off on the seventh or no. Maritime is a fickle profession in that respect. Present Nicholas knows damn well if he got off or didn’t.

Materialism

But, the things past Nicholas from the 6th does know for sure is his future prospects (at least in some measure), so I shall give him the stage:

I was asked to return! And what that means is that in six weeks from signing off I’ll be coming back for another approx. six weeks! Stable job here I come. Furthermore: MY OWN CAR, HERE I COME!

I cannot express to you, (though I shall try), just how lonesome it has been without my very own car. Just like our friend Buddy Limbo, I’ve been stuck using public transportation and other crude means such as bipedal locomotion to travel from place to place, even though I used to have a car. See, I sold it when in 22 I moved to southern Finland to study. “Car payments are not in the budget,” 23-year-old me said, and sold his beautiful green Nissan Primera 1995.

Since that day I’ve felt like a caged bird in the ever more fifteen-minute-esque cities of an ever compressing and condensing Europe. Everything is too close. Everything I need is at my fingertips, and if not, possible to order through the witchery of the internet. Also, no exploring. No casual day trips to towns an hour or two away just for the fun of it. Only dreams of “when I’ve a car I shall go—”… (fill in the blank). No growl of engine beneath me. No feeling of control as my hands are on the wheel. No morning chill and frosty windows, or baking interiors hot to touch and impossible to cool. No more complaining about gas or sitting in silence at a parking lot overlooking the ocean or sunset. No more nighttime drives just because. No more tired drives home on summer nights, or groggy trips in early morning hours, when that unique feeling of “I am all alone in this world, and it is mine to explore,” comes about like a secret which makes you smile.

Oh, how I’ve cursed that day. How bitter the poison of nostalgia. But now, the time has come that money shan’t be an acute issue any longer, and I can semi-safely invest in a car. Much to my girlfriends future displeasure, it WILL BE a pickup of some sort. Something from the early aughts or nineties. Think King Cab. (I’m no Mercedes, BMW, or Audi guy).

Car, Pickup Truck, Chevrolet, Png Free Stock Photo - Public Domain Pictures
Of course a Chevy is best

 

Man-o-man I am BURSTING at the seams! A car! Freedom!

Regarding Writing.

I’m still working on the short story, but I will be having it wrapped up next week, (fingers crossed). And the bio page is in a horrid state of non-being. Once those are a-ok I will hop back to book four and start releasing the first chapters!

I feel energized in my creativity! I really need to remember that hopping from project to project is quite helpful when blocks occur.

But anyways, I’m going to get ready and fight the insurmountable fatigue that I’ve accrued and head back home.

I’ll see you next Saturday, hopefully with more Z’s under my belt.

 

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