Thursday, November 21, 2013
je l'aime, je ne l'aime plus, et je me deteste du coup.
If being a graduate student means experiencing a spiral of hating then loving then hating then redoing everything you're working on, followed by haunting dreams of inadequacy and self-doubt, then I guess you could say I'm pretty good at being a graduate student. Yeah.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
je viens... d'où?
So, here we are in week six of my master's program, already wondering how soon I'll be able to discern the light at the end of the tunnel. The thing is, while I enjoy one of my modules immensely, the other one can suck it as far as I'm concerned. This makes it decidedly difficult to get motivated for spending several hours in the library reading political pamphlets and various discourses that just don't interest me. Plus, there's the fact of being alone pretty much... All the time.
And with all the hours I've spent either in the library or my bedroom staring wide-eyed at my kindle, I'm not sure how much of my objective I'm actually going to end up accomplishing. That ultimately being, to live in the UK. I think that walking through the same park on my way to one of two buildings that I frequent shouldn't really count as "living" in a place, nor does occasionally going to the co-op to stock up on my favorite gummy treats. When does the socializing part come in? In a program like this with a weep-inducing reading list, it's not really conducive to making friends or living socially and to be honest I'm finding it quite a lonely process. Besides the people I chat with on a weekly basis on the seminars or various lectures, you are forced to work alone the majority of the time.
And as far as "living" here goes (if we can call it that), on the rare occasion that I'm chatting with someone new, I'm finding the question "where are you from" more and more tricky to answer. Where am I from?
When I was in France, I could say that I was from the U.S., but had been living in Toulouse for X number of years. So, it was implicit that I had spent my life in the U.S. but my life was now in France. Telling people here I'm from Arizona doesn't feel like the whole truth; it inevitably leads to questions like "how do you like being so far away from home?" or "do you miss the US?" or "where did you do your undergraduate degree?" -- the answers to those questions don't necessary concern themselves with my life in AZ. Is this something that happens to everyone as they grow up? When does your hometown stop being your hometown?
Let's finish on a high note and look at a nice picture of a rainbow I took the other day. I've never known a place where you had to have both sunglasses and a umbrella... At the same time...
And with all the hours I've spent either in the library or my bedroom staring wide-eyed at my kindle, I'm not sure how much of my objective I'm actually going to end up accomplishing. That ultimately being, to live in the UK. I think that walking through the same park on my way to one of two buildings that I frequent shouldn't really count as "living" in a place, nor does occasionally going to the co-op to stock up on my favorite gummy treats. When does the socializing part come in? In a program like this with a weep-inducing reading list, it's not really conducive to making friends or living socially and to be honest I'm finding it quite a lonely process. Besides the people I chat with on a weekly basis on the seminars or various lectures, you are forced to work alone the majority of the time.
And as far as "living" here goes (if we can call it that), on the rare occasion that I'm chatting with someone new, I'm finding the question "where are you from" more and more tricky to answer. Where am I from?
When I was in France, I could say that I was from the U.S., but had been living in Toulouse for X number of years. So, it was implicit that I had spent my life in the U.S. but my life was now in France. Telling people here I'm from Arizona doesn't feel like the whole truth; it inevitably leads to questions like "how do you like being so far away from home?" or "do you miss the US?" or "where did you do your undergraduate degree?" -- the answers to those questions don't necessary concern themselves with my life in AZ. Is this something that happens to everyone as they grow up? When does your hometown stop being your hometown?
Let's finish on a high note and look at a nice picture of a rainbow I took the other day. I've never known a place where you had to have both sunglasses and a umbrella... At the same time...
Sunday, October 6, 2013
deux semaines après
So, I'm over two weeks into this new adventure and am feeling decidedly less freaked out about it. Though I really don't have many (read: any) real friends yet and I've resigned myself to the fact that 95% of my weekends will look like something like this...
 |
| what've we got here... 1. The Origin of Species 2. The Works of Sir Walter Scott 3. The Vindication of the Rights of Men / Women 4. Wordsworth's Lyrical Ballads 5. Collection of Coleridge 6. Wordsworth's The Prelude 7 and 8. The complete works of Percy Shelley / William Wordsworth 9. an old book of 17th century poetry from my undergrad that I will have no use for. Goddamit. |
... At least I feel good when I'm reading and studying. I mean, it's hard to tell since it's only been a week, but I have to admit that I don't feel too terrible about spending 4-5 hours in the library every day. It's no Copley but it's got that lovely old book smell and it's peaceful and it even overlooks a duck pond! I trudged through Wordsworth's The Prelude and Shelley's Alastor; Or, The Spirit of Solitude today and afterwards I felt a sense of accomplishment that I haven't really felt in a long while, something that I think I've been missing (an intellectual challenge? Is that what that was?).
It's all well and good to be exiling myself to the library everyday and staying inside my head about these books but the real challenge will be the lectures and trying to keep up with all these yuppies. Most of the people in my modules just finished their undergraduate degrees two months ago so I feel like an old fart who's out of touch with most of the online resources and research journals. I only have vague recollections of reading The Picture of Dorian Gray in freshman year. No wait, or was it sophomore year? Actually no, I think I'm thinking of Moll Flanders...
Crap. I'm really REALLY hoping I'm not totally in over my head on this.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
étrangère à nouveau
So here we are. At long last, I'm sitting in my new (but actually quite old) house writing a blog from the UK. I wish I could say I was filled with excitement and optimism about this new adventure but it's hard to shake the feeling that.... Oh yes, I've made another huge mistake.
In truth, I've been waiting to do this big relocation for ages, having decided on doing it within my first six months in France. I've been preparing myself mentally since May of 2012, until I was told later in the summer that it wasn't possible and I had no choice but to defer my acceptance. Though devastated at first, I came around to the idea that delaying one year had it's benefits (spending more time with Jon, duh)
This summer though seemed to drag on and on as work was very slow and I always knew at the back of my mind that come September, things would be a-changing. I tried hanging on to every fun moment, the sunny Toulousain days that I knew I'd miss terribly, savoring the pastries and cheeses, sleepy Sundays at home. Excited as I was about changing things in my life, I anticipated the inevitable settling in period and then slowly and very surely, a pit in the seat of my stomach started growing, getting the better of me over time.
After spending two weeks with my mom--one in Toulouse and one here in the UK getting set up--I'm now finally HERE! And alone! And as amazing and life-changing and totally worth I'm sure it will be... Right now.... It's depressing. It smells weird. There was a spider in my bed, which is not, in fact, my bed but I have to sleep in it nonetheless.
Tomorrow I have an induction meeting where I'll meet people and get my bearings and I hope that, little by little, I'll be able to chip away at this heavy pit until I feel a little more normal. Little by little.
In truth, I've been waiting to do this big relocation for ages, having decided on doing it within my first six months in France. I've been preparing myself mentally since May of 2012, until I was told later in the summer that it wasn't possible and I had no choice but to defer my acceptance. Though devastated at first, I came around to the idea that delaying one year had it's benefits (spending more time with Jon, duh)
This summer though seemed to drag on and on as work was very slow and I always knew at the back of my mind that come September, things would be a-changing. I tried hanging on to every fun moment, the sunny Toulousain days that I knew I'd miss terribly, savoring the pastries and cheeses, sleepy Sundays at home. Excited as I was about changing things in my life, I anticipated the inevitable settling in period and then slowly and very surely, a pit in the seat of my stomach started growing, getting the better of me over time.
After spending two weeks with my mom--one in Toulouse and one here in the UK getting set up--I'm now finally HERE! And alone! And as amazing and life-changing and totally worth I'm sure it will be... Right now.... It's depressing. It smells weird. There was a spider in my bed, which is not, in fact, my bed but I have to sleep in it nonetheless.
Tomorrow I have an induction meeting where I'll meet people and get my bearings and I hope that, little by little, I'll be able to chip away at this heavy pit until I feel a little more normal. Little by little.
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