The Self-Improvement Impulse

Let's just say the desire to become a better person is on hiatus for the time being. I suspect that summer killed it, or at least severely wounded it. This is not to say that I've abandoned my (sometimes faulty) moral compass, but rather that I haven't been in the mood lately to do Things of Long-Term Importance. No, I would rather spend my time reading The Hunger Games and watching Doctor Who, which, in fact, is exactly what I do. Yes, let's slip into fantasy worlds that bear only the faintest resemblance to my real life. Solid plan. Ignoring reality is, after all, extremely comforting, until I invariably remember that reality is still out there, sort of pressing in on me from all sides. From the feel of it, reality is made of wool: it's thick, it's heavy, it's sometimes a bit stifling, but not entirely uncomfortable. And sometimes it's itchy. Yeah, I took this metaphor too far. True to form.

Then I wonder, "How am I ever going to transition back into being a serious student?" Because, at this point in my recent graduate-ness, the concept actual work is so foreign that it's terrifying. I mean, I spend my time thinking of the best natural fiber to metaphorically represent reality. And the thought of reading something that isn't at least vaguely fantastical... What? Also, why? I know, I know, reading about reality is a component of developing ideas. Whatever that means. I do remember a time when I had ideas, when I read books and my thoughts had a bit more depth than my current standard: "I am so entertained right now" (with crazy eyes - see below).

Yes, I do look quite a bit like him when I'm reading an especially exciting book.  This expression is some combination of "I have never had this much fun reading in my life" and "I strongly advise you not to interrupt me." 

The only relatively productive thing I do is write this blog, and that's something of a joke because I just talk about stuff and have probably no readers. There is possibly a larger purpose in all of this, though. It just hasn't fully manifested itself yet. Or potentially at all. There is a reasonable chance that this has something to do with my future move to London, but for the time being I'm in Michigan, at home, mostly waiting for things to happen, looking at these things from a distance of about two months, thinking about how two months is at once a long time and not a long time, feeling unmotivated, maybe because the future is still a long way off, maybe because it's all very close and very scary.

Social Anxiety: The Online Edition!

I can just imagine the response that an email from me must elicit. First vague excitement over having received an email, followed by vague exasperation upon realizing it's from me, followed by mocking of all of the stupid things I say. When I write to people over the internet, I invariably feel as though I'm making unsolicited demands on their time. It's like I'm saying, "Think about me! Me! I know you probably came on the internet to do other things, but I ask, nay, I demand that you take the time to read what I say and write a thoughtful and insightful response. But if you don't, I mean, that's fine. Whatever. I will, however, assume that you hate me if you never write back."

I think I really need to stop assuming that everyone hates me.

What terrifies me most about internet communication, though, is that I can't see people's reactions. So, unlike in the real world, I can't watch their facial expressions changing slowly to distaste or confusion, indicating that I should probably change the topic of conversation. If an internet conversation were a real-life conversation, it would probably be like talking at a completely expressionless face, then waiting a few minutes, maybe a few days, for a reaction. And the whole time, you're just staring at this blank face, waiting, wondering, hoping you haven't made some irredeemable social blunder. Knowing yourself, you probably have.

Creepy, isn't it?

As of a few weeks ago, the problems associated with internet communication have become a point of major concern. See, I began the process of London flathunting with the naive belief that I would engage in one exchange with the perfect future flatmates, we would quickly develop a mutual affection for each other and I would be done. Yeah, it wasn't quite like that. Instead, I had to send off at least 20 unsolicited emails to various people, trying to persuade them of my sanity and asking if they would like to meet with me during my brief upcoming visit to London. Fortunately, a few of them must have believed that I'm not one of those I'll-sneak-into-your-room-and-watch-you-while-you-sleep kind of people (which, thank you very much, I'm not), and they agreed to meet with me. Then, as luck would have it, I really liked the first people I met with, and they must have liked me too, since they offered to form a flathunting group with me. The only issue with all of this is that I haven't communicated with either of them since returning home from London a week ago.

I daresay there will be some awkward emails in my future.

Who am I? Good question.

I'm Sarah. This is probably important. 22 years old. Equally important (in my opinion, but this is coming from the girl who, in the past week, has been mistaken for both a 25-year-old and an 18-year-old, so I'm rather protective of my actual age). For some time I was a Creative Writing Major. The capitalization is important because I thought a lot of myself back then. Then I became a German major. The capitalization has to do with proper nouns. I thought less of myself then. Not too long after officially choosing a major, I graduated. This happened precisely two months ago, and the shock still hasn't worn off. I can only deal with all these life changes by assuring myself that I don't have to be a grown-up yet. No, I'll get my Master's first (is that capitalization even correct?).

This is me. Being stupid. I know it seems egotistical to include too many pictures of yourself in blogs, but people like to know what the people they're reading about look like. I think. At least I do. Hence the picture. 

Which brings me to my next point... Yes, I am a Master's student. Well, sort of. I haven't officially started yet. But in the fall, oh yeah, I'll be a Master's student at University College London, studying European Studies. Studying the studies. Well, obviously.

Anyway, the point of this blog is to write about living in London, being a grad student (postgraduate student, whichever terminology you prefer) and just general life things, most of which will be related to being a grad student/living in London. I expect my family to read this. If you're not a relative of mine, then that is very exciting for me. It means I have an audience. An audience... Cue reverie.