Two Weeks To Go!

I guess this is a post to commemorate my survival of four months and two days of doing essentially nothing with my life, waiting for that moving to London thing to happen. So now if I ever wonder, "What was I doing in the final few weeks before the most monumental move of my life?", I will have an answer. And, knowing myself, I will ask this question someday.

And, because I need a break from thinking about serious things, here's some fluff:

1. I finally watched the final episode of the second series of Sherlock yesterday, then paced around my living room and explained to my dog why it was so good. More than any other episode, this one addressed the relationship between Sherlock and Moriarty, and I found myself absolute transfixed by the action on the computer screen. This is rare - normally when I'm watching TV on the computer, I jump around a lot from tab to tab, listening to everything, but actually seeing only about 75% of any given episode. In this case, though, Sherlock is just so intensely serious - and Moriarty so intensely insane - that I don't really have any choice but to watch. Maybe this clip will show you what I mean:

(spoilers ahead)

I also have to say that I really, really love Moriarty and would be really, really upset if he is actually dead. I know, I know, he's evil, but he's also fascinatingly eccentric, and my, my does he have style. Seriously, what other villain would break into the Tower of London not to steal the crown jewels but to wear them?

 I feel like this is turning into a Moriarty fan page. I'm going to stop.

2. I want to make pesto and Thai iced tea - not necessarily for simultaneous consumption. In other food news, I thought my dreaming mind invented peanut butter cookie cake, but it turns out that lots of people have already thought of it. I think I may never be a great innovator in the kitchen.

3. Today I stood on the precipice of creating a tumblr account, but when I looked down into the chasm of potentially wasted time, I decided not to jump.

Update: Never mind. I jumped. oskdagrunu.tumblr.com. Whatever. I can restrain myself. Maybe I won't even use it at all. Yeah, right. I know myself and addictions to websites, and it's bad.

4. Today I dressed up like a hipster (meaning I wore normal clothes but felt glaringly weird in this small, fashion-backward town) and shot footage of things that make me think of home. This way, when I'm far away, I'll hopefully have something to stave off the homesickness, or possibly something to make me more homesick. I don't really know how this will turn out.

5. I really should get back to researching possible thesis topics and European nonprofits. These things could be important to me someday, although I have to admit that I'd much rather waste time on this tumblr thing. At the moment I'm asking myself whether I have any self-control at all. Probably not.

What Do I Have To Offer?

A metaphor, perhaps? I don't know. But I like the picture.

When I was in high school, if there was something you could read about in a book, there was probably a time when I considered it my thing. You know, my thing: my calling in life, my passion, my fate. I pictured myself as a doctor, a medical researcher, a novelist, a journalist, (for a couple of hours one afternoon) a poet, a professor of literature, a political activist, and, from the vantage point of a high school senior, all of these futures appeared equally possible.

Then I started college, and I stopped believing in fate. Just because I memorized all the paths of blood flow in the human heart and my best friend once said she could see me being a surgeon, I wasn't necessarily meant to cut people open and fix broken things inside of them. Likewise, just because I was reading Dickens and the Brontë sisters and Dumas at 14, my future didn't necessarily lie in dissecting these texts and passing judgement on what the writers were trying to say. I can't pinpoint the moment it came to me, but sometime during my freshman year of college, I realized that I could do whatever I wanted; I could change the way things work out just by changing my mind. It was liberating, and it was disorienting. For the first time in my life, I couldn't picture my entire future stretched out in front of me because I knew, in all likelihood, I would spend the rest of my life changing my mind, always searching for some better option than the one that currently holds my attention.

Had I majored in biology or creative writing (neither of which I actually majored in, both of which I very seriously considered), I probably would still have reached my current impasse. I would still be debating whether it's possible to do something that's romantic and creative and idealistic while working toward practical solutions of at least one of the world's problems and making at least enough money to survive. My instincts say that there's no real reason for this to be impossible, but, like everything worth doing, it'll take a fair amount of planning and a fair amount of luck, not to mention a bit of spontaneity. I may have to take jobs that don't come with the perk of a guaranteed successful career trajectory. Someday I may take a job at a nonprofit that doesn't necessarily work in a field of personal interest, but this type of work would nonetheless give me a sense of what it actually means to work for a nonprofit organization. I may live in quite a few cities before I find one that's a good fit.

I have to start seeing every experience as valuable. I have to stop believing that there will be a point in life where I make one decision that cements the future conditions and circumstances of my life. Maybe the real world isn't the all-or-nothing, black-and-white place I once assumed it to be. Maybe there's room for mistakes and changing your mind. Maybe everything won't always work out according to plan, and when it doesn't, I'll have to learn to make the most of what opportunities are available. I think it's a lesson worth learning.

Instant Inspiration!

If my previous posts give any indication, I've been having a bit of trouble with motivating myself to do anything that isn't watching funny youtube videos and reading lifestyle blogs. With this in mind, I decided to compile a list of things that generally inspire me to think of life more as an adventure and less as a series of mostly uneventful days.

1. Make something. Or in my case, force yourself to make something. Maybe the process will be slightly frustrating, but I promise that the end result will give you a feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction. For details on the do-it-yourselfing project, see my post on repurposing a box to make it more practical for storing jewelry.

2. Go to the library and check out on a book on a subject that interests you but that you've never examined in any detail. If nothing else, you'll learn something. For me, this was young adult literature, namely the collected works of John Green. I haven't read anything in this genre since I was about 12, so I decided to give it another try, just for fun. And, oh my, has it been fun. I read Paper Towns in one night, completely absorbed in the suspense, humor, and commentary on the nature of human relationships. I look forward to tackling the rest of my books-to-read stack. Right now it's An Abundance of Katherines. Thoroughly enjoyable.

3. Read some newspaper articles to remind yourself that there is lots of stuff going on in the world. There are things that need fixing. This isn't to say that you're going to change the world all at once, but I find it inspiring just to think about one person's potential to fix some societal problem. And, hey, maybe eventually I will devise a plan of action to change something for the better.

4. Listen to this song: "Young Lovers Go Pop!" by This Many Boyfriends. Something about the chorus makes me feel like things are possible. And that is important in the motivation/inspiration game.

5. Caffeine. Lots of it. I had four cups of Irish breakfast tea while writing this post, and, sure, my hands are shaking a bit, but that just makes me type faster. 

6. And if you must watch youtube videos, at least choose something When I watch this type of video, I generally end up thinking, "Look at this guy. He's my age, and he's making artistic, insightful videos on a weekly basis. What am I doing with my life?" Then I go attempt to do something productive. 

1 Carry On, 1 Personal Item, 1 Checked Bag: Under 50 Pounds... GO!

Sometimes I do this thing I call over-anticipating, which basically consists of preparing for things far earlier than is reasonable. This is why I began packing for London a few days ago and also why my room is going to be cluttered with half-packed suitcases for the next month or so.

All I can really say about the process of packing for a year (or possibly forever) abroad is that it's not going especially well. The problems are as follows:

1. London is not known for being warm, which means that I have to pack heavy things like coats and sweaters and boots. Don't get me wrong, I love all of these types of clothing, but their weight does make it a bit difficult to stay under the 50-pound limit for a checked bag.

2. I want to bring everything I own. This is not possible.

3. But how am I supposed to make my room look warm and welcoming if I can't bring all 12 of my candles?

4. Also, how am I supposed to dress well if I don't have all of my clothes? And won't the clothes I leave behind miss me? Of course they will. Of course.

5. The internet has failed in providing me with a comprehensive guide to packing for a move to a major European city. I concede that packing guides for moving abroad do exist, but they seem to fall into two not-very-helpful categories, namely (a) packing guides for grown-ups with that elusive thing called disposable income and (b) packing guides for study abroad students with a definite return date. The former is unhelpful because I can't afford to bring five checked bags (one for books alone!), and the latter is unhelpful because I will probably never move back home. This means that in not taking something with me, I could very well be forever relinquishing my claim on it.

So the question remains: How does a 22-year-old recent college graduate pack for a move to London, where she would like to dress stylishly and have a well-decorated bedroom? Let us furthermore stipulate that buying replacements for everything that was left behind is not an option.

I guess I'll just have to write the comprehensive guide myself. Fine, then. Fine.

Reality Check

I think part of me really wanted to believe that the world is just one big hedonistic playground, and my undergraduate days didn't help in dispelling my belief that this might, in fact, be true. By some miracle of financial aid, I managed to get my Bachelor's degree without any debt. What's more, my grant money allowed me to eat out and study in coffee shops basically whenever I wanted, and when I got a job, it was more the result of wanting work experience than financial necessity. I studied hard, sure, and sometimes stressed out to a considerable extent, but mostly I dabbled a lot in subjects I thought might be interesting without taking on the responsibility of focusing too heavily on one thing.

Now, though, I feel reality hitting, and it's hitting me hard.

The main thing I'm learning is that Money Is Real, and it doesn't just magically materialize in your bank account because the financial aid gods have decreed that it will be so. Moreover, evil extortionists (I'm looking at you, apartment company) will try their hardest to milk you for all you're worth. I mean, I don't have $100 to pay a fine for a parking tag that certainly never existed. Why wouldn't I have a parking tag? Well, because I DON'T HAVE A CAR. I don't even want a car. Shocker, I know. What kind of American am I?

Partly because I have absolutely no income and lots of things to pay for, partly because of the complete lack of action on the moving-to-London front, partly because I'm back to playing dozens of games of solitaire everyday, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not much good at real life. I remember the days when I used to consider myself a competent adult. I always showed up on time for work and class; I cooked my own food, did my own laundry, cleaned my apartment, worked out every day. And I know that I stopped being that person because summer happened and I moved home and I didn't have to be fully accountable for myself anymore.

Then I remind myself that some people have real problems, and I am not one of those people. I remind myself that everyone probably gets this life-isn't-a-game reality check at some point. Maybe mine just came so late that I was lulled into the delusion that it never would, that I could go on forever spending and spending and spending and having fun and never having to deal with any consequences and never having to take any real responsibility for my actions.

It's time, I suppose, to enter into actual reality - not the glamorous pseudo-reality of doing whatever I want whenever I want, not the teenager's version of what it means to be grown up - no, the reality of determining what you really want out of life and going for it, of doing things that are difficult and frustrating without complaint, of sucking it up and not acting like a child about every little setback. Yeah, I'm well overdue on that one.