Hey all,
As I sit here in the tiny little common room in my flat, staring out into the darkness that has fallen over London, I'm thinking pretty heavily how things will be different in just two days time. In less than 48 hours I will be on a plane on my way back home for the longest I've been home in 9 months. It's a little surreal.
I know this post is along the same veins as the last one I put up, but I've been thinking a lot about how things will be different in the next two months, much less the next two years. There's going to be a lot that I'm going to miss.
First off is where I live (and who I live with). I live with one of my best friend's ever, and I'm really going to miss her when I head back home. It's good to have a buddy to cook with, or hang out with, or even to just go and do stupid shopping with. I'm going to be on my own a lot during the days when I'm home, everyone I know has a 'normal' job. I'm sure I'll do a lot of visiting and I'll spend a lot of time doing work, but I'm going to really miss the atmosphere of living with people my age and in my situation. I'm going to miss Kelsey's ridiculous food OCD when it comes to dissecting chicken, and also just having stupid stuff to talk about and ridiculous videos to watch. I'm going to definitely miss having a drinking partner, and a climbing partner (and a climbing gym).
I'm going to miss being in the city, where if you want to, you can just walk out the door and explore. I've spent hours walking around Hyde and Regent's Park, going up and down the South Bank, or just wandering down Oxford Street. I'm not looking forward to paying for gas again, or having to deal with traffic. The tube and bus are great ways to mindlessly get around. How else am I supposed to feed my Solitaire addiction?
Thursdays at the Betsy Smith are definitely going to be missed. Nothing like getting a great group of people together for delicious pizza, awesome 2-for-1 cocktails, totally inappropriate conversation, and ridiculous 90s music. Plus it's just a stumble down the road!
I'm going to miss feeling like I'm in charge of my life. I don't think I'll have that same sense when I go back to Philly. I won't be living in my own place where I contribute to rent, which already puts you into a weird position of owing. It'll be interesting to see how it works out.
Obviously I'm going to miss Sean. I feel like that might be the hardest part about this whole trip. I hate the 5 hour difference, and I've gotten so used to him being a part of my everyday life. I don't think we've gone a day without talking since we started dating, even when I was in Ireland we still made time to chat for a little bit. I've actually never gone this long without seeing each other ever, in any relationship. It's scary, especially since we haven't been dating for all that long, two months apart is a pretty significant chunk of our relationship alone. I know we'll be okay, but it still worries me slightly.
Anyway, I'm hoping to fill my days with productivity. I hope my normally (week)day will go as follows:
8:30 - wake up
9:00 - get on the treadmill or out for a run
10:00 - eat you some breakfast (probably yogurt and muesli with blueberries, because I'm oh-so-original)
10:30 - shower
11:00 - work on some chemistry review
1:00 - lunch
2:00 - work on dissertation, I want to have 2000 words a week (I'm already behind by about 500)
4:00 - maybe hang out by the pool if it's nice, if not, blow through to 6:00
6:00-8:00 (whenever I'm actually hungry) make and eat dinner
9:00-12:00 more work/dissertation/chemistry review/note-taking/transcription
12:30 - bed
I'm betting it doesn't make it a week, but I do want to start getting back into running. It was so miserable here for so long that I couldn't bear the thought of running outside, and I didn't really want to fight for a spot on a treadmill at the school gym (or drag my bag of gym stuff that far).
Here's hoping I'll be productive! And fill my hours so I can't miss England too much.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Monday, June 3, 2013
Countdown to Home
This page is a method of procrastination.
Today is 3 June, 2013. In 4 days I will be in Madrid, in 16 I will be on a plane, heading back to the United States for approximately 2 months. This date has crept up on me much quicker than I thought it would, just a few days ago it felt like I had ages before I'd be flying 'home'.
The problem is, beyond deadlines and schoolwork stress, beyond missing the lifestyle and independence that I've gotten accustomed to being over here, I feel as though Pennsylvania 'home' isn't really home anymore. Don't get me wrong, I've missed my friends and family and I am really excited to see them all, but I feel like I'm leaving a pretty solid chunk of who I am here in Kilburn.
I've never thought I would take to city life. It's noisy (there are sirens flying down the High Road as I type, and I guarantee that around 12.30-1.00 the people downstairs will start their normal shuffling noises), it's dirty, there are weird people everywhere (some that want to just catcall at you, some which you avoid because you're 90% certain there's nobody home upstairs), and it's busy with the constant pushing of people trying to get places or tourists trying to block traffic. My flat is small, it's not glamorous, the paint is peeling on one of the walls and during the fall/winter we had a bad case of mould because of the persistent cool and damp. There are four people and only one bathroom, no dishwasher, and the oven takes 20 minutes to preheat and has only one rack.
The thing is, I love it. There's a wonderful feeling of anonymity that you get in a city, which I suppose could be daunting, but I love it. It has made it more difficult to meet people, I will grant that, but there's also a level of freedom associated with it. I am responsible for only myself. I can come and go as I please, my days are mine to do what I will with them (right now, that means putting of the literal pile of books that I have to read, process, and write a literary review on to write a nonsense bit of blog post). I don't have people constantly checking up on me, I haven't spoken to my family in longer than is probably appropriate to admit.
I'm a little terrified of the culture shock of going home and being at the mercy of other people's schedules. I'm not looking forward to living in a house where I will be questioned about what I have accomplished that day, or how my dissertation is coming along, or whatever. I want to relax by the pool, visit museums, write, draw, do whatever and not be harassed. It may be difficult to do that.
I'm also feeling crushed by the impending deadlines. I have the literature review and detailed outline with sources due in a week (four of those days will be in Spain and will leave me accomplishing nothing), I have an interview with a museum tomorrow to gather research and a meeting with my advisor the day following. I'm worried I won't have anything to report on since most of my research is stuck in the late 80s/early 90s. As it is, it's almost 11 pm over here and I'm starting to feel a little tired after a long day of reboxing people at the museum, and tomorrow is going to be early as well. And the day after. And the day after.... and the day after.
This post has lost its focus (not unlike its author), so perhaps it should be left at that. I'm sure once I start writing, life will be easier. Until then, just keep swimming.
Today is 3 June, 2013. In 4 days I will be in Madrid, in 16 I will be on a plane, heading back to the United States for approximately 2 months. This date has crept up on me much quicker than I thought it would, just a few days ago it felt like I had ages before I'd be flying 'home'.
The problem is, beyond deadlines and schoolwork stress, beyond missing the lifestyle and independence that I've gotten accustomed to being over here, I feel as though Pennsylvania 'home' isn't really home anymore. Don't get me wrong, I've missed my friends and family and I am really excited to see them all, but I feel like I'm leaving a pretty solid chunk of who I am here in Kilburn.
I've never thought I would take to city life. It's noisy (there are sirens flying down the High Road as I type, and I guarantee that around 12.30-1.00 the people downstairs will start their normal shuffling noises), it's dirty, there are weird people everywhere (some that want to just catcall at you, some which you avoid because you're 90% certain there's nobody home upstairs), and it's busy with the constant pushing of people trying to get places or tourists trying to block traffic. My flat is small, it's not glamorous, the paint is peeling on one of the walls and during the fall/winter we had a bad case of mould because of the persistent cool and damp. There are four people and only one bathroom, no dishwasher, and the oven takes 20 minutes to preheat and has only one rack.
The thing is, I love it. There's a wonderful feeling of anonymity that you get in a city, which I suppose could be daunting, but I love it. It has made it more difficult to meet people, I will grant that, but there's also a level of freedom associated with it. I am responsible for only myself. I can come and go as I please, my days are mine to do what I will with them (right now, that means putting of the literal pile of books that I have to read, process, and write a literary review on to write a nonsense bit of blog post). I don't have people constantly checking up on me, I haven't spoken to my family in longer than is probably appropriate to admit.
I'm a little terrified of the culture shock of going home and being at the mercy of other people's schedules. I'm not looking forward to living in a house where I will be questioned about what I have accomplished that day, or how my dissertation is coming along, or whatever. I want to relax by the pool, visit museums, write, draw, do whatever and not be harassed. It may be difficult to do that.
I'm also feeling crushed by the impending deadlines. I have the literature review and detailed outline with sources due in a week (four of those days will be in Spain and will leave me accomplishing nothing), I have an interview with a museum tomorrow to gather research and a meeting with my advisor the day following. I'm worried I won't have anything to report on since most of my research is stuck in the late 80s/early 90s. As it is, it's almost 11 pm over here and I'm starting to feel a little tired after a long day of reboxing people at the museum, and tomorrow is going to be early as well. And the day after. And the day after.... and the day after.
This post has lost its focus (not unlike its author), so perhaps it should be left at that. I'm sure once I start writing, life will be easier. Until then, just keep swimming.
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