This blog is now officially dead. Closed. Whatever. However, this whole blogging thing must have been good for me, because I now have a new, non-study-abroad-related blog here. It's called A Few More Words, and it's mostly me ranting. And if I ever manage to type up any more of my poems, they'll go here. But then you knew that.
JJ over and out.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Monday, 4 July 2011
Born in the USA
I've been avoiding writing this post. No, really. I have, I think partially out of a misguided belief that if I don't admit it's all over, it won't be.
I've been back over a month now, and things are still weird. English food, English customs, English dress, English attitudes, hell, even the English sense of humour, grate on me far more than they once did. Josh and I have been watching a US/UK colab for one of the games we both recently bought, and I find myself yearning towards the American voice (the accent! The jokes! The little fillers!) with a truly scary sort of desperation.
It's not that I dislike being back, or have instantly switched into 'want what can't have' mode. (Well...). It is amazing to be in the UK once more, to have proper cups of tea, to hang out all night with my closest friends (if I'm honest, I think they make the place more home-like than anything else), to walk and catch the bus and use public transport and to hear beautiful BBC English on the radio. I'm America plus in that respect; I love all accents, provided they're not my own. No, it's more that I want the best of both worlds, the cynicism and the silliness, the space and the public transport, the people, and, well, the people. I want my own little transatlantic island, damnit, and I want it to be packed with American coffee shops.
Would I do it again? Definitely. Would I recommend it? In a heartbeat. There's an awful lot of culture shock and homesickness involved in a year abroad, that I won't deny, but the rewards far outweigh the detriments. You meet amazing, varied, interesting people, and, at the risk of sounding like a very bad movie, you learn an awful lot about yourself, about your culture, and about globalism. You change. You begin to see things in very different ways.
So what of me? I won't be going for our girly reunion in Paris, because I simply can't afford it. That said, I should soon start working as a shelf stacker type grunt in Tescos (fingers crossed). This sucks. Fortunately the school will be holding a more formal reunion in London come October, and this I am determined to go to. On Thursday I will go for my first post-America, post-Laura haircut, and I'm not sure how I will survive. I've been listening to a lot of radio, and gaming a fair bit. Dying mostly, but that's besides the point. I'm keeping in touch with the UConn bunch as much as possible, and I daily miss Pu and her general wonderfulness. I textspam Vaughney whenever I get bored. In just under a month I'll be spending a week in a field at a folk festival with my Exeter bunch. I've been playing a lot of guitar in preparation. I have a bike. A real, live, rusty bike. I didn't get my internship. I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life, and how to fit America into it. I miss people, very much.
I'm happy. I'm always happy. And I'm glad I went.
I've been back over a month now, and things are still weird. English food, English customs, English dress, English attitudes, hell, even the English sense of humour, grate on me far more than they once did. Josh and I have been watching a US/UK colab for one of the games we both recently bought, and I find myself yearning towards the American voice (the accent! The jokes! The little fillers!) with a truly scary sort of desperation.
It's not that I dislike being back, or have instantly switched into 'want what can't have' mode. (Well...). It is amazing to be in the UK once more, to have proper cups of tea, to hang out all night with my closest friends (if I'm honest, I think they make the place more home-like than anything else), to walk and catch the bus and use public transport and to hear beautiful BBC English on the radio. I'm America plus in that respect; I love all accents, provided they're not my own. No, it's more that I want the best of both worlds, the cynicism and the silliness, the space and the public transport, the people, and, well, the people. I want my own little transatlantic island, damnit, and I want it to be packed with American coffee shops.
Would I do it again? Definitely. Would I recommend it? In a heartbeat. There's an awful lot of culture shock and homesickness involved in a year abroad, that I won't deny, but the rewards far outweigh the detriments. You meet amazing, varied, interesting people, and, at the risk of sounding like a very bad movie, you learn an awful lot about yourself, about your culture, and about globalism. You change. You begin to see things in very different ways.
So what of me? I won't be going for our girly reunion in Paris, because I simply can't afford it. That said, I should soon start working as a shelf stacker type grunt in Tescos (fingers crossed). This sucks. Fortunately the school will be holding a more formal reunion in London come October, and this I am determined to go to. On Thursday I will go for my first post-America, post-Laura haircut, and I'm not sure how I will survive. I've been listening to a lot of radio, and gaming a fair bit. Dying mostly, but that's besides the point. I'm keeping in touch with the UConn bunch as much as possible, and I daily miss Pu and her general wonderfulness. I textspam Vaughney whenever I get bored. In just under a month I'll be spending a week in a field at a folk festival with my Exeter bunch. I've been playing a lot of guitar in preparation. I have a bike. A real, live, rusty bike. I didn't get my internship. I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life, and how to fit America into it. I miss people, very much.
I'm happy. I'm always happy. And I'm glad I went.
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