A Christmas Carol

It's Monday of 12th week; went inside the historic Canterbury Cathedral for the first time. I was [this   ] close to crying. My heart is so bloody full.

It was the University Carol Service tonight, and I was surrounded by a couple thousand students and staff, all [attempting] singing Christmas carols (the notes were so dang high, my sick voice had to keep jumping octaves! -_- what else is new). We all lit candles at two points during the service, and they turned the lights off, creating the most spectacular cloud of light and Christmas cheer.

Happy Christmas season, from this beautiful, old, loving English town.

Just another manic Monday, er Wednesday

Chipotle in London somehow tasted like rebirth. I basically cried as I ate my first burrito bowl in over 4 months. It was that rad.

I want to be a British football fan. Went to a Chelsea Champions League game, and HOLY COW was it awesome. Cursing Brits left and right, "zigah zagah zigah zagah oi oi oi" chanting, and the thrill of the game. It rocked. Too bad I support Swansea ;)

It snowed. Oh bless, it snowed. I went to sleep to a green, clear Canterbury (or rather laid awake in bed for 3 hours to the sounds of my housemate and his friends having fun and getting high, despite my asking for them to be quiet please 3 times... too bad he's my friend), and woke up thinking I'd be tired all day long because of my lack of sleep the night before. Well I checked my phone as I turned off my alarm, and my friend Aaron texted me some variation of "SNOW!" to which I proceeded to have the lowest expectations ever as I got up to open the blinds.

But no.

It was freakin' glorious. So absolutely beautiful. It was snowing pretty heavily, and seeing as this was only the second time in my life I had seen snow falling from the sky, I was elated. Nothing could bring me down. I basically jumped up and down and grabbed my camera and posted as fast as I could to Facebook (because this was news I just had to share with all my loved ones back home). Then I got dressed for my day in London and played in the snow and took pictures before Genna, Rita, Aaron and I headed to the train station.

And today it's all gone, save for some icy patches on the grass and in the shade. I am so thankful to have experienced some snow in Canterbury before leaving in two weeks, as snow in December is not a sure thing.

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas.

I don't want to break up

Ever since I passed the halfway mark of my stay here in England, everything's been tinged with a slight shade of obsession. Every experience here has tasted oh so sweet, and since the halfway point, I've become even more obsessed with everything.

The past two nights, however, I felt truly, deeply sad about leaving. I've known the end's been nearing for a while, but I'm already missing what I've barely felt.
Last night, I went out with my housemate and his beautiful, free-spirited, angsty friends to Ruby Tuesdays at the Origins Bar on campus. Ruby Tuesdays happens each Tuesday, and it's the one night a week they play only indie/alt/rock music all night -- right up my alley. As I was flailing my arms about, dancing to "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac (from one of my favorite albums ever), I couldn't help but throw my head back, smiling and wanting to cry. Every British or international/indie/hipster/angsty/'nobody understands me' kid was dancing around in lace-up boots, denim vests, indie band t-shirts, and freedom. I belonged. But at the same time, it felt like I was looking through a window at their world. I won't ever be a part of their world again, come two and a half week's time. This world was all I imagined a little British corner of the world to be. I finally got to live it, finally started finding my way around it. And now I have to leave it all behind. 

2.5 weeks. 

I'm crying- cue "Never Going Back Again"

And then tonight, out at Whetherspoon's, the cheap classic old student pre-drinking/hang out bar in town, drinking a sex-on-the-beach out of a paint can, admiring accents and fashion I'm not here long enough to have fully incorporated into my wardrobe, I felt myself peering in through the window again. 

I won't be here anymore.

This won't be my life. I'll never get to live these moments again. I barely started. I know I've lived the most of my experience, but I feel like I've barely started. 

I'm crying- cue anything from the Perks soundtrack (just watched it here, I didn't need anything else to make me a mess..)

Then there are my housemates, who've unobtrusively paved their way into my heart. My Swedish housemate and our deep talks, laughs, dreams- she's now my sister.  My French housemate, his loving ridiculous ways, his affection and unknowing humor- a brother. And the other two, the only freshman in the house, I've grown to admire their quirks, despite the fact that both of their cooking sends fumes into my upstairs bedroom, resulting in bacon-and-curry smelling clothing errday. These people are part of the stability in this British Uni life I've come to love. I can't leave them. AND TO THINK that someone else will be coming into my room, room D, and replacing me?? It's just absurd. I won't have it.

I've fallen hard and fast. I can't deal with this break up.

Chronicles of living with a French dude

• The cigarette smoke smell continuously billowing from under his bedroom door
• The fact that he always has a lady friend around, and never has trouble finding new ones.
• He bakes his own bread. In our nasty ass kitchen.
• His accent. Oh his endearing accent.
• The image of him running into the kitchen this morning, shirt unbuttoned, hair tousled, neck hickey-laden, and half-smoked cigarette clutched by his lips- with a bowl of risen dough in his hands, which he kept in his bedroom, now ready for the oven.
• He bought a desktop and computer circa 1998 because he broke his laptop on the train coming home from France one weekend. The same trip where he got lost en route to France, got stranded in the early morning at a god-forsaken train station, and was let into the closed ticket office by a janitor so he wouldn't freeze to death. 
• He has a band. 
• "You bring a boy to ze house until six-therthy AM and you don't have sex with him? Why, S, why."
• He is too cool for school. Literally. 
• He is a loving housemate, and I'm so happy to call him my friend. He also ups my street cred in these parts, so I can't complain. 

Damnit. But awesome.

Another one of those nights that ends up in a completely unanticipated way (not that most nights here don't turn out like that..).

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Oh except crap, I'm supposed to be done having this kind of sleep-draining fun, and working more. Damnit.

And how does a boy enter your head and take over your thoughts without permission, huh? I told my emotions to stay aside, and it worked... for a few minutes. Damnit.

Light-Bulb

"For example, Erikson believed that having a fully formed sense of self (established during the identity versus confusion stage) is essential to being able to form intimate relationships. Studies have demonstrated that those with a poor sense of self tend to have less committed relationships and are more likely to suffer emotional isolation, loneliness, and depression.

Erikson believed it was vital that people develop close, committed relationships with other people. Success leads to strong relationships, while failure results in loneliness and isolation."

This was me, for 2 years of college, up until about last month.

I'm still struggling with this concept though, and it takes conscious effort me to be myself, love myself, and know that I am worthy of being loved, uncertainties and self-doubts included.

I finally get that I may never have my epiphanic moment, lighting up a path that I feel my soul is destined to follow.

And that's just fine.

Again, as I'm pretty sure I've written about before, that path of mine is going to be a squiggly, dirty, mistake-laden, growth-filled one. I'll get wherever I'm going to get, but it really is the journey that's important to me: all the people I hope to help in the curves of my path, all the places I hope to give a piece of my heart to, but hopefully keeping it just as full.

Please don't let yourself become stagnant. Please. Not until you're ready for it, not until stagnancy becomes your happiness. You'll know when that day comes, just don't think it has to come so soon, like you once hoped.

Porcupines

Last night, for the first Friday night since being abroad, I attempted to sleep early (ed: not true, I tried to sleep early when I had to go to London at 7am a few weeks back. Not important).

Anyways, the following simile went through my head, as I lay in bed trying to drown out the noise of Uni students who were having the fun I was supposed to be having (but decided against, because I was tired and needed to wake up early and work on my million word essays. Again, not important):

Attempting to sleep early on a Friday night is like trying to get a porcupine to wear a tuxedo.

Whaaeett?

And that, my friends, is probably why I chuckle in my sleep (which, according to the 4 roommates I've had in college, happens).