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.

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.

Time Stands Still

In one month, I will be either in London or in the midst of my final preparations for the move, so it doesn't seem like nothing should be happening on the moving-to-London front, but somehow that seems to be the case. I think I'm caught in some sort of time loop in which I keep living the same day over and over, and nothing ever happens to bring me closer to the future. My life has devolved into a fairly pleasant cycle of breakfast/reading, running, lunch, wasting time on the internet or other miscellaneous afternoon activities, dinner, TV, and sleep. Repeat as needed.

Oh, summer. 

Relaxing (boring?) though this lifestyle may be, it's lulling me into a stupor. I can't say what would happen if I didn't wake up at about 9:30 in the morning, have a bowl of cereal and two cups of coffee while reading, then get ready to go for a run, but I suspect that it would be physically and emotionally jarring. I vaguely remember a time when I had a job. And classes. And I had to wake up before the sun had fully risen. I cooked my own food. I did my own laundry. I tried (sometimes in vain) to keep my apartment clean. Then I graduated and became a little kid again. Makes sense.

I'm absolutely certain that there are things that need doing - Projects of Great Importance - like deciding what I'm going to pack, opening a UK bank account, and buying a plane ticket. Every time I try to start one of these projects, however, their full complexity become clear, and I decide to put them off for another few days. Deep down, I think I assume that if I procrastinate for long enough, someone else will do everything for me. Except that's not how real life works. Some previous incarnation of myself understood that if I want things done, in most cases I'm going to have to do them myself. I don't think I completely understand this anymore.

Pardon the rambling.

A List of Uncertainties

1. Where specifically I will be living next year. In theory, I should be receiving pictures of potential flats so that I can give feedback, but this has not happened yet. These days I compulsively check my email, thinking each time that there will be something significant waiting in my inbox. Instead I find myself constantly sifting through (figurative) piles of spam.

2. Whether I can find a job in London. Seriously, I'll do anything just to have a source of income again. Wait, maybe not anything. Almost anything? No, that sounds dangerous, too. As a point of reference, though, a job in a coffee shop is currently my dream.

3. The extent to which I will have to decimate my beloved clothing collection when the time comes to fit everything into a surprisingly not-big-enough suitcase. You see, when I ask myself what I want to pack, my default answer is, "Everything." And then I remember that everything really isn't an option.

4. When exactly I will be leaving. Whether I can find a reasonably-priced plane ticket. What city I will be flying out of. Whether I will have any layovers (hopefully not - rushing through airports, filled with the nagging dread that I will miss my next flight absolutely terrifies me).

5. Whether I'll be happy in London. Whether I'll make friends easily. How intense the homesickness will be.
Whether I'll have an acceptable internet connection
What size my bed will be.
Where I'll do my grocery shopping.
Whether I'll be able to sustain my habit of eating excess Mexican food.

This is getting ridiculous. I'm going to stop worrying. Right now.

Wait, maybe now...

No, now. For real this time.

My Trendy Hipster Hobby: I don't have one

I was flipping through a magazine the other day, and I came across this tampon ad featuring a girl who writes a blog about knitting. Immediately I think: "I'm not as cool as her." Given my history with knitting, this thought is fairly surprising.

I first considered the craft when I was probably about 10 years old, and I bought some knitting needles and yarn with the intention of making really amazing things. Except the fate of the knitting needles was to be props in my make-believe games, specifically in those that required me to impersonate an old lady. Just go with it - my childhood pretend games were pretty convoluted.

Maybe four years later, Kim (my sister - she writes here sometimes) decided to learn to knit for real, and she tried to convince me to do the same. I, however, adopted the knitting-is-for-old-ladies-and-spinsters attitude. I had realized neither that spinsters no longer exist, nor that all properly cool girls these days must behave and dress like old ladies from time to time. In addition to being oblivious to cultural trends, I failed to acknowledge how cool it would be to knit my own scarves. Seriously, if I could knit, I would knit scarves by the thousands.

In many ways, my relationship with knitting resembles my relationships with all other hobbies. This means that I pretended to do a lot of things as a child, became too cool to even consider doing these things as a teenager, and then really wished I could do them as a young adult. Hypothetically, I know that it's never too late to take up a hobby, but every time I try, the experience is somewhat akin to dying my hair, in that it seems exciting at first, but I eventually decide that the upkeep requires more effort than it's worth. At least this has been my experience with my forays into photography, sewing, drawing, and writing poetry.

Don't take this to mean that I spend all of my time doing nothing. I cook things from time to time and do what I like to call food-ography:

Occasionally I acquire random new skills, like sailing:

I read things, I write things, I listen to music, but I don't really make anything by hand. Sometimes this troubles me, because I really like the idea of coming up with a concept and then creating this thing from raw(ish) materials. The fact that I read a lot of blogs by very creative people only compounds the problem. They're like, "Oh, look, I woke up today and decided to hand paint a rug" And I'm like, "Cool. I painted my toenails last week." 

I think the secret to having creative hobbies is having creative ideas, and maybe this is where my major failing lies. Or maybe I'm just lazy. Maybe I don't make anything because every time I think, "I'd really like a new shirt," I never consider making my own or repurposing one from a thrift store. Usually I just go to Forever 21. 

Could it be to my advantage, though, to begin making more things as I take on my grad school debt? Quite possibly. Maybe the desire to look really cool won't inspire me to be creative, but maybe financial necessity will...

Maybe learning to knit wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. 

Writing a Statement of Purpose

Quite a few months have passed since I wrote my statement of purpose for my grad school applications, and for basically the entire time, I've been meaning to tell the internet what I learned. 

Writing a statement of purpose takes a lot of motivation. I like to take my motivation in the form of coffee and tea - sometimes at the same time. 

As I was writing my statement of purpose, I devised a formula of sorts, and I was extremely pleased with the result. Here it is: 

1. Talk about an experience that is in some way related to your graduate study. I chose the time I helped to tutor children of Turkish immigrants in Berlin, and how this got me interested in European social issues. This makes your statement of purpose more personal.  

2. Relate the previously described experience to your university studies. If you have an unconventional major, explain it here. 

3. Talk about specific college courses or experiences that sparked an interest in the course of study you're now pursuing. This is where you specify your academic interests. For example, I like to focus on the experiences of disadvantaged populations, and I explained the roots of this interest here. 

4. Propose a topic you would like to focus on in grad school. Of course you can change your mind after applying, but I think admissions people like to see some specific 

5. Explain why you selected the school and program you're applying to. You can mention courses you might want to take, the city you would be living in, and so on - really, whatever appeals to you. 

6. I call this the miscellaneous section. This is where I talked about other, non-academic experiences that are relevant to my graduate program, specifically my social research job. 

General Tip: Although you will mention things you did in the past, remember to consistently relate these experiences to what you want to do in the future. 

General Tip #2: Write a lot of drafts of your statement. I think I wrote a new one every week for about five weeks. Were there time when I wanted to give up on all the editing and just submit the thing already? Oh yeah. Am I glad I took the time to get my statement to a point where I was really happy with it? Absolutely. 

I hope this information is helpful, and I will soon be posting an example of my statement of purpose! How exciting. 

Be a Better... Conversationalist

Part of the reason I started this blog was to motivate myself to do more interesting things, because when I write about the things I do, I'm more likely to, you know, do things. I know this sounds like circular logic, but it really does make sense in the context of my life. You see, I was spending the summer doing absolutely nothing - no classes, no job - and hence encountered some difficulty in motivating myself to ever leave the house. By committing to writing a blog, however, I signed on to making a more interesting person of myself. This should prove to be a great challenge.

With this in mind, I'm starting a series of posts in which I basically pick some personal failing and try to fix it. And because I used to take a lot of science classes, I'm going to write these loosely in the form of lab reports. It just makes sense to me.

The Project: Get better at talking to people. (Actually, I've kind of been working on this one for the past few years, but I made some definite breakthroughs about three weeks ago.)

Introduction: I went to London a few weeks ago to meet with potential future flatmates and hopefully find someone to live with next year. It was absolutely necessary that I did this and did it well, but I knew that I'm not necessarily one to be normal and fun and interesting during a first meeting. It's not that I'm boring (at least I hope I'm not). No, it's just that sometimes, when I'm in an unfamiliar social situation, I forget everything about myself, everything I'm interested in, and everything I've ever thought about.

Travel: So much fun, so much potential for awkwardness.

Hypothesis: I need to stop overthinking every social interaction. In other words, people are not nearly as judgmental as I imagine them to be.

Materials: Probably just the internet. Oh, and other people.

Methods: About a week before going to London, I started looking at myself in the mirror and just talking, rehearsing entertaining stories and just giving basic information about myself without sounding too awkward. Yes, I really did this, and yes, it was slightly humiliating.

Additionally, I thought about all the progress I made in the art of socializing during my college years and realized that my discovery of self-deprecating humor marked the end of my complete social failure. See, when you employ it during a conversation with someone you don't know very well, it makes answering the awkward small talk questions so much less awkward. People would often ask me about my major, for example, and my standard answer was something along the lines of, "It's German. Mostly pointless, but I like learning languages, and, who knows, maybe I'll find a job someday that'll let me use it." With this answer, not only do I give information about myself, but I let the other person know that they don't have to take me too seriously. In fact, I much prefer teasing and banter to earnestness. I still have trouble with sincerity in casual conversation with relative strangers. I mean, I don't mind when other people are sincere; I just have trouble expressing it myself. Somehow it always feels artificial, even if it isn't.

Finally, I compiled a list of questions I could ask in the event of an awkward silence. These included: Where are you from? (Naturally); Do you have any siblings? (Family tends to be a topic that people can discuss at length); What do/did you study? (this can lead to a discussion of general interests). I tried to stay away from the "What's your favorite...? questions because I personally hate them and generally don't have adequate answers. (What my favorite band? Um, well, I like lots of different bands a lot and I don't think I could choose one and maybe I could pick a genre?.... No, I like lots of different genres too.... Cue loss of interest.)

Results/Conclusion: My meetings went quite well, really. I managed to find flatmates, and I think they liked me! And the thing was, I didn't even have to use any of my practiced methods (except maybe the self-deprecation). In the end, all I did was answer questions, talk about my life, ask about theirs, laugh at their jokes, and hope they liked mine. I didn't think too much about what I was saying before I said it. No, instead I just went into a conversational autopilot of sorts, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I made friends after just one meeting.

The lesson? Don't overthink; just talk.

Grad School Application Tips

Not to sound full of myself or anything, but I think I've made quite a bit of life progress since January. Let me elaborate: I was two weeks into the second semester of my senior year of college, and I had no idea what my next step would be. I went home for a weekend under the pretense of "applying for jobs away from the distractions of school," but really I went home to freak out. I think it was midway through one of the intensest freak-out sessions that my dad suggested that I look at graduate programs in Germany. I was a German major, after all. So I did, and I think at this point I can safely say that that internet search changed my life. 

This has absolutely nothing to do with anything, but here's a donkey for your viewing pleasure. I was going to my iPhoto looking for something relevant, and, well, donkeys beat relevance.   

On the University of Hamburg's website, I found the description for their Master's of European Studies program. Coursework in international relations, politics, and European culture? Check. European location? Check. All of a sudden, this beautiful thing called a Master's of European Studies emerged from the smoldering wreckage of my "job search." And I desperately wanted one of these Master's degree things. 

I promptly abandoned the "get a job" plan in favor of the "go to grad school" plan, and during the process, I learned some things:

1. Apply to some schools that you think are basically guaranteed to take you, as well as some schools that you think would never, ever, ever take you. For me, UCL was my reach school. And guess what? I got in. Taking chances can pay off. 

2. Write a few drafts of your statement of purpose. It can take some time to settle on what you want to say, but if you're really proud of what you wrote, you'll feel slightly better during that torturous waiting period between submitting your applications and getting decisions from schools. 

3. Set aside some time every week to work on applications and only applications. For me this was Thursday between 10 am and 1 pm. I think this designated application time was the only reason they actually got done. 

4. If your recommenders agree to it, get pdf copies of your letters of recommendation. This way, you have them for future use. I found this to be extremely useful, since it allowed me to make additional, last-minute applications when I was panicking about not getting in anywhere. Which brings me to my next point…

5. Don’t panic. I know this sounds like empty advice, but seriously, your quality of life will be infinitely better if you at least attempt to maintain some perspective through the application process. How to maintain perspective? Always keep in mind that there are lots of things you love in life that are not at all associated with education. Listen to good music. Focus on developing new skills (mine was writing/blogging). You'll get through it. Really.

TIP: If you start the grad school application process late, like I did, it may be a good idea to look at schools abroad (assuming you're American). Their application deadlines are generally later than most American universities, AND they don't require the GRE. 

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.