Oh wow. I'm headed home in a day. At this time tomorrow, I'll be at London's Gatwick airport, preparing to fly home. I am definitely, definitely excited about coming home and I will be thrilled beyond words to see everyone.
BUT. I am also having feelings of trepidation about leaving England and not knowing when I'll be back. There are a lot of things I have learned to love about this country, and I think what's really problematic for me is the uncertainty of just not knowing when I'll be back again. I'm sure I will, but it all feels so up in the air right now.
I also don't know how I'm going to deal with school. This semester was basically kind of a vacation for me, and spring semester I'm throwing myself full force back into everything that keeps me busy and crazy, and then some. But I think it will all work out in the end and it should be a fun time. I'm looking forward to new people and new friends and a new house and all that jazz.
My family saw 'The Producers' over here. Not the new film, the musical, in the West End. It was incredibly funny; I think it's the only activity we all did as a family that we all have thoroughly enjoyed together. My family members and I all have such different tastes and interests. My parents, I have realized, are hopelessly, helplessly American. In a way it's part of what I love about them. In a way, it's also been driving me slightly mad.
Anyway. Whether I'm ready for it or not, it's time to go home.
I'll see you all soon, I hope.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
oh my.
I think last night might have been the best night I've had in York.
Well, maybe not. But it's awfully close.
I don't know what I'm getting myself into, if anything.
But for once I took a chance, and put myself out there. And it has already paid off in the fun I had.
I don't want to go into details here.
In short, I went on a date. It surprises even me still. At least, maybe it wasn't exactly a date, but it turned into one by the end of the evening, I think, and it was good.
the end.
It's funny how one incident can change a person's outlook on so many things. I feel so lucky. And happy, and surprised.
I'm just going to enjoy it for now, and try not to over-analyze anything the way I tend to.
Well, maybe not. But it's awfully close.
I don't know what I'm getting myself into, if anything.
But for once I took a chance, and put myself out there. And it has already paid off in the fun I had.
I don't want to go into details here.
In short, I went on a date. It surprises even me still. At least, maybe it wasn't exactly a date, but it turned into one by the end of the evening, I think, and it was good.
the end.
It's funny how one incident can change a person's outlook on so many things. I feel so lucky. And happy, and surprised.
I'm just going to enjoy it for now, and try not to over-analyze anything the way I tend to.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
on sunday...
I experienced a moment of sublimity. It was nothing huge, and I have already babbled about it to far too many people, but for a brief span of time, I was completely happy without another thought in the world. I was rosy-cheeked and smiling and unaware of basically anything outside of a certain small space, and it was a perfect little time capsule.
So then the question becomes, do I go back and try to find another such moment? Or do I let it remain as it was, and just forget about it, and go on with everything else?
I have a 2500 word essay due Friday by 12.30 that I have not started even outlining yet. I have another 2500 word essay due Friday by 4 that needs serious revisions, revisions that I've marked all over the essay but haven't started implementing yet even though the library books I use for the essay are quite overdue and I'll have some hefty fines to pay. I had a philosophy essay yesterday that I probably did more poorly on than any other written exam that I have ever taken, and I'm uncharacteristically unshaken about it. I'm not sure if this is a good sign or an indicator of too much apathy.
I could not sleep again last night. I think I fell asleep somewhere around 4.30, so a solid three hours of sleep then.
I went ice skating last night! It was beautiful and worth the money and time it cost, as well as the blister my left heel now sports. It was magical - there's a tree in the middle of the rink (not a Christmas tree, but a TREE tree, growing out of the ground, that the rink is constructed around) and there were sparkling white little lights everywhere. It made me think of movies and would have made me extremely extremely bitter about being single (there were many couples hand-holding and falling and being all cute) if Irina and I hadn't been having so much fun almost-falling and if I hadn't still been in too good of a mood from the combination of Sunday and being finished with metaphysics forever.
I have a 9.15 class today. After it is over, I can revise and hand in my English essay. I could've handed it in yesterday, but then she might have read it by today, and she is the sort of professor that I really, really, really do not want to disappoint and for whom I fear disappointment is inevitable because my essay isn't too grand. But it's an essay, and I'll pass well enough, I hope.
I can't stop listening to Jeff Buckley. It's addictive. Everyone go buy the cd and see if you can stop listening to it once you really begin.
So then the question becomes, do I go back and try to find another such moment? Or do I let it remain as it was, and just forget about it, and go on with everything else?
I have a 2500 word essay due Friday by 12.30 that I have not started even outlining yet. I have another 2500 word essay due Friday by 4 that needs serious revisions, revisions that I've marked all over the essay but haven't started implementing yet even though the library books I use for the essay are quite overdue and I'll have some hefty fines to pay. I had a philosophy essay yesterday that I probably did more poorly on than any other written exam that I have ever taken, and I'm uncharacteristically unshaken about it. I'm not sure if this is a good sign or an indicator of too much apathy.
I could not sleep again last night. I think I fell asleep somewhere around 4.30, so a solid three hours of sleep then.
I went ice skating last night! It was beautiful and worth the money and time it cost, as well as the blister my left heel now sports. It was magical - there's a tree in the middle of the rink (not a Christmas tree, but a TREE tree, growing out of the ground, that the rink is constructed around) and there were sparkling white little lights everywhere. It made me think of movies and would have made me extremely extremely bitter about being single (there were many couples hand-holding and falling and being all cute) if Irina and I hadn't been having so much fun almost-falling and if I hadn't still been in too good of a mood from the combination of Sunday and being finished with metaphysics forever.
I have a 9.15 class today. After it is over, I can revise and hand in my English essay. I could've handed it in yesterday, but then she might have read it by today, and she is the sort of professor that I really, really, really do not want to disappoint and for whom I fear disappointment is inevitable because my essay isn't too grand. But it's an essay, and I'll pass well enough, I hope.
I can't stop listening to Jeff Buckley. It's addictive. Everyone go buy the cd and see if you can stop listening to it once you really begin.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
photos!
If you are at all interested in seeing more pictures from my trip to Germany, please go to my flickr page and enjoy. Also, all three of the lovely ladies featured are single; we are currently accepting boyfriend applications. We are pretty selective though.
My state of mind is much the same as it was on Monday - see the post below.
My state of mind is much the same as it was on Monday - see the post below.
Monday, December 05, 2005
under the gun.
I had a good weekend filled with good company and good food and laughter and comfort. It was exactly what I needed.
And now so much frustration has come upon me. Much of the weekend's relaxed ease and contentment are quickly becoming memories. I am trying to write an essay and I can't come up with a thesis. Not even a working thesis. There is not a single original thought in my head. Although there seldom is, I suppose. Creativity has never truly been my forte and it's like the older I get, the more my brain slows and stops absorbing as much. School and learning used to be so exciting and fresh for me. I felt like I could never learn enough, and now I just feel so ineffectual and academically worthless.
Not that it really matters. Oh, discontent! I have such moments of wonder and glory and beauty and then I fall into the aching sadness for people who are, I suspect, much like myself and find each struggle out of the continual onslaught of valleys harder and harder until we wonder how much bending we can do before we snap. So much sadness, so much anger, so much fury and rage and tempestuousness and sorrow with nowhere to go so that it continues to stockpile and build and amass until it greedily starts feeding on itself and flourishing in spite of all the hopes that might try to spring up.
I feel a disordered dull, throbbing pain for all the words I wish I had to tell people how much I care about them and how desperately I wish that anything I could ever say would matter and make anything any better. But that's the thing. It won't make any difference. No matter how many ways I agonize and try to console or comfort, the gaping hole is still there for others. I'm not using my words, as Malin would say - I'm not getting out what I really want to be saying. The more I write the less I'm able to make the words do what I want them to, it seems. There's so much empty sadness.
There are people that I love dearly and I have been lamenting that I can't be there for them because I'm over here in England. Really, though, that's a quite selfish thought of me to have because why do I suppose it would make any difference? I can't fix anything. I can't go back in time, I can't change any of what they are feeling because what's happened has happened and whether or not I'm physically there is hardly going to make much of a difference. The problems, the voids, the unrelenting, vast heartache would be there regardless.
The funny thing is, this is one of the most down posts I've written in awhile, and I do manage to be a downer quite a lot of the time. But I'm not feeling hopeless or awash with grief - I'm awash with the infinite and unavoidable triviality of the comfort I might try to offer others. It has to be sought elsewhere. I can't give that which I so desperately wish I could.
Do the holes ever get filled, or do we walk around forever, partly empty because of what others have taken with them?
in other, totally unrelated and unimportant news, i am thinking of dying my hair either a much lighter brown or a deep auburn and getting it cut more. this may be a shallow outgrowth of my discontent. thoughts and/or suggestions are welcome.
And now so much frustration has come upon me. Much of the weekend's relaxed ease and contentment are quickly becoming memories. I am trying to write an essay and I can't come up with a thesis. Not even a working thesis. There is not a single original thought in my head. Although there seldom is, I suppose. Creativity has never truly been my forte and it's like the older I get, the more my brain slows and stops absorbing as much. School and learning used to be so exciting and fresh for me. I felt like I could never learn enough, and now I just feel so ineffectual and academically worthless.
Not that it really matters. Oh, discontent! I have such moments of wonder and glory and beauty and then I fall into the aching sadness for people who are, I suspect, much like myself and find each struggle out of the continual onslaught of valleys harder and harder until we wonder how much bending we can do before we snap. So much sadness, so much anger, so much fury and rage and tempestuousness and sorrow with nowhere to go so that it continues to stockpile and build and amass until it greedily starts feeding on itself and flourishing in spite of all the hopes that might try to spring up.
I feel a disordered dull, throbbing pain for all the words I wish I had to tell people how much I care about them and how desperately I wish that anything I could ever say would matter and make anything any better. But that's the thing. It won't make any difference. No matter how many ways I agonize and try to console or comfort, the gaping hole is still there for others. I'm not using my words, as Malin would say - I'm not getting out what I really want to be saying. The more I write the less I'm able to make the words do what I want them to, it seems. There's so much empty sadness.
There are people that I love dearly and I have been lamenting that I can't be there for them because I'm over here in England. Really, though, that's a quite selfish thought of me to have because why do I suppose it would make any difference? I can't fix anything. I can't go back in time, I can't change any of what they are feeling because what's happened has happened and whether or not I'm physically there is hardly going to make much of a difference. The problems, the voids, the unrelenting, vast heartache would be there regardless.
The funny thing is, this is one of the most down posts I've written in awhile, and I do manage to be a downer quite a lot of the time. But I'm not feeling hopeless or awash with grief - I'm awash with the infinite and unavoidable triviality of the comfort I might try to offer others. It has to be sought elsewhere. I can't give that which I so desperately wish I could.
Do the holes ever get filled, or do we walk around forever, partly empty because of what others have taken with them?
in other, totally unrelated and unimportant news, i am thinking of dying my hair either a much lighter brown or a deep auburn and getting it cut more. this may be a shallow outgrowth of my discontent. thoughts and/or suggestions are welcome.
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