I’ve been trying to blog since the 8th grade when I thought I should jump on the bandwagon and get a Live Journal account. It went pretty well until a certain AIM chat (because that’s where all great social interaction took place). One of my guy friends referenced something I had written on it. I realized anyone could read what I’d been posting and was significantly embarrassed. Don’t worry, though, it wasn't a super traumatizing event that I’ll seek therapy over. I survived.
Eventually, I graduated to a Mind Say account that I kept strictly on the down low to protect my delicate ego. I chronicled my Freshman year, focusing primarily on my attempts to gain the attention on the man of my dreams. Each and every week my self-narration cast a different 14-year-old boy into the role of leading male in the romantic comedy that was my life. (Complete with Lime Wire soundtrack.)
I tried to start a blog last summer too. I figured it was something I should do, being a Journalism student and all. I even felt a little joy upon embracing the media outlet, however, I also quickly felt like a wanna-be hipster dreaming of Williamsburg and couldn’t take me life seriously. At least I wasn’t wearing plaid, though.
Let’s face it, I am NYU student and frequent customer at American Apparel, so lately I’m recognizing that I may have to start dissolving my irrational prejudice of hipsterdom. I might be a little more hipster than I like to think and at least blogging is free and effective way to let me friends and family know I’m alive across the pond. All that being said, here’s my latest attempt to engage in the activity deemed the future of journalism. (Bah.)
The last day I spent in Manhattan was beautiful, not too cold either. It was one of those days that reeks of joy, one when your pores just soak up delight as you walk downtown, listening to an iPod. It was the kind of beautiful day that equates Taylor Swift philosophy with absolute Truth. Everything is good with the world. I guess the nice weather affected everyone because checking in at Laguardia, the US Air guy didn’t even charge me for my overweight bags.
104 lbs. split between two suitcases, that’s my life now guys. I’ve scattered some boxes between Long Island, New Jersey and North Carolina, but all of the necessities I couldn’t part with are with me. (Hopefully they’ll arrive in London the same time I do.)
I arrive in London, tomorrow morning, and then I live there for five months. (Bahah. I still don’t quite believe it.) The best part about all of this is not that my ex-boyfriend is also going but that the fact I will be a resident there for almost half of a year hasn’t hit me yet. It was surreal enough for me to move to New York, now I’m moving to England to find my next big adventure. (And the best academic semester ever! - I’m taking all Lit. classes, though both the last sentence and this abundance of parenthetical phrases creates a very cheesy tone.)
I’m not sure I would say this is the biggest adventure I’ve ever gone on. It might be, but I have a sorority sister in every class and know lots of other people going. I’m not switching universities, just continents. I’ll see my mom is April, and I’ll be back in North Carolina in mid-May. I’m not moving to a third-world country by any means, so parts of it just seem like a regular semester.
But it’s not because it’s across the Atlantic ocean. It’s in England; therefore, it’s fundamentally more badass. I also positive that once I’m there I’ll find its a very foreign and very big adventure after all. (I certainly hope so at least.)
My goal is that this will serve as an outlet to keep people in the know about what I’m up to while over here (when I’m not dutifully studying of course). It may be fun for me too, though this is all assuming I’m successful in my attempt to blog and of course have lots of British (mis)adventures.