where did it go?
I can't believe that I have only one week of classes and two weeks of exams left. I'd "known" this for a while but it really just hit me in the past couple days. I have an incredible amount of work to do before it's all over: four exams and a lab practical, a pile of homeworks, some tough crew workouts and a 2k test, not to mention all the packing and goodbye-ing. I probably won't see any of my friends for over 6 months, starting when we go home for Christmas break. SIX MONTHS. Is a long time. I'm really excited about going to New Zealand, but I don't think I quite believe that I'm going yet, not in my deepest thoughts/heart/mind. I haven't really done much research about it, except for what I have to do, like figuring out what courses I'm going to take, where I'm going to live, how I'm going to get there, etc. I've almost been avoiding it. Well not really "avoiding" it, but ... I haven't quite invested myself in it yet, honestly I think because I haven't had time to think about it much, with everything that's been happening this semester. Nana and Grampa are certainly excited about it; they brought out their old fifties-style atlas to show me where they went when they traveled "down under" last year. Apparently Christchurch is in farm country ... I think I'd been hoping for a school nestled in some very dramatic, deeply green mountains under a brilliant swath of sky, next to a gorgeous crashing ocean ... when Nana said "farm country" my fantasy promptly squashed into an Indiana cornfield. I know it's really going to be beautiful; I've seen the pictures, I've heard stories, I've read various accounts, I DID do a little research, of course ... although I kind of like the idea of going, and not knowing what to expect. I won't know what it's really going to be like anyway, so why go to all the bother of creating a pre-idea that will just melt the moment I step off the plane? Every time I think about "New Zealand" my thoughts automatically go to David. I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing for us, if it bodes well for our long-distance relationship or not. It's a delicate thing, to hold on to something far away, while also charging ahead into a new place, new people, new everything, with all your energy, so as to make it worthwhile. I WILL NOT let myself whine and pine myself away while I'm there, however much I ache for that touch and smell and voice and heartbeat that has become (scarily?) so intensely important to me. I think he's a little worried about my leaving, which I suppose he has a right to be. I'm worried about him, honestly ... not that he'll "go astray" or anything really, but that he'll be lonely, and close himself off, and start to get mad at me for leaving him for so long, going carelessly off on my own adventures. We were joking around the other night, lying on my bed, and I said "this is going to be hard" ("this" meaning, being on other sides of the world for several months) and he said "you'll be fine, you'll probably find some hot new zealand guy and forget all about me." He was kidding around, so I laughed and kissed him and said "don't be silly" but I wonder if there was any small wisp of a real worry behind the jokes. Even Nana, who knows I'm crazy about David, said "Maybe you'll meet someone and decide to stay down there." Weird. I mean, I don't pretend to know what's going to happen -- anything could -- and I've already said a million times in this journal that I have no idea how long David and I will be together. We'll just have to wait and see. Actually I don't like that, "wait and see" ... we'll just have to keep living, and seeing. I hate waiting.
Nana picked me up after classes on Wednesday (and after David left to visit his oldest sister's family in Atlantic City). I hadn't realized that they wanted me to stay the whole weekend. After my last class, I'd looked at the vast 4 days stretching in front of me, nothing scheduled, just homework and studying and a few workouts, but all MINE, time to be alone, and relax, and do things I always wanted but never got around to ... I love being at Nana and Grampa's house, but I admit that when they said "We'll bring you back to campus on Sunday" I felt like it had all been taken away from me. This is a nice place to eat and chat and play cards and take naps, but I had a lot of things planned, in my head. And I felt even worse about the whole thing when I told them that I wanted to go Christmas shopping with Jenna and Erin tomorrow, and they looked so disappointed. Nana said something like, "It's good to be young, I remember. That's when the thing to do is be with your friends." It's not that I don't want to spend time with them ... I do, I have. I just ... have so many things to do! It's hard to relax and watch a TV feature on the life of Queen Elizabeth II when you've got finals and NZ paperwork and tricky physics homework looming over your head, not to mention thoughts of your friends back on campus, eating pie and watching the James Bond marathon, or even worse, a full house back home, everybody stuffed to the brim with Mom's fabulous bread rolls and sweet potatoes and tangy cranberry dressing, so much laughter and life and after-dinner chatting sprawled out all over the family room and in the kitchen. I haven't been homesick all semester really, until today, when we started eating Thanksgiving dinner, and I thought to myself This doesn't really feel right. Immediately I felt incredibly ungrateful and reminded myself that I am SO lucky to have family, such wonderful family, here to stay with and spend the holiday with, and I do love them SO much, really deeply with all of my heart. But ... if I could have chosen between here and Maine, there would have been no question. I just feel so antsy here, like I'm wasting time. I constantly feel like I should be doing something, that I'm losing ground, there's this quiet panic always in the back of my mind. It is fun to watch them fuss and fudder over little things like where to put the leftover beans, and to hear their stories about Mom when she was younger, and life when they were in England. It never ceases to amaze me that they have been alive for such a long time; they're not actually very old, mid-seventies, but when we were watching the QEII documentary they would say things like "I was there" or "I used to wear hats like that" or "Remember Enid went to her coronation in '53." Those corny old black and white film clips always seem to have a marching band playing in the background, with the same assertive, announcer-like male voice narrating each one, whether it's British or American, WWI or WW2. It always seems to me like these people, these times, must have been made up, or at least, much longer ago than they actually were. If you really think about how much has changed, it's enough to fill up your brain and keep on filling until you find yourself turned into a roaring niagra falls of people and technology and values and history and old stockings and old photos and old ladies hats. Another thing that struck me is how much Mom looked like Lady Di when she was younger. Really, it's a striking resemblance -- the same haircut, blue eyes, complexion ... wow. She was beautiful. She IS beautiful still, now that I think about it, but in a different way, not stunning, not fresh and stylish like those glamourous photos of Di in long dresses and big hats and high heels and sunglasses, but ... I don't know how to describe it, except to say that, if the beauty of a person were measured by her/his actions, expressions, emotions, and love for other people, she would be the most beautiful person I know. I never really got over that "mom-worshipping" stage that most girls go though on their way to "mom-doesn't-know-anything" stage, which usually leads to the "mom's-ok-but-kind-of-annoying" stage. I wonder if I ever will.
Nana picked me up after classes on Wednesday (and after David left to visit his oldest sister's family in Atlantic City). I hadn't realized that they wanted me to stay the whole weekend. After my last class, I'd looked at the vast 4 days stretching in front of me, nothing scheduled, just homework and studying and a few workouts, but all MINE, time to be alone, and relax, and do things I always wanted but never got around to ... I love being at Nana and Grampa's house, but I admit that when they said "We'll bring you back to campus on Sunday" I felt like it had all been taken away from me. This is a nice place to eat and chat and play cards and take naps, but I had a lot of things planned, in my head. And I felt even worse about the whole thing when I told them that I wanted to go Christmas shopping with Jenna and Erin tomorrow, and they looked so disappointed. Nana said something like, "It's good to be young, I remember. That's when the thing to do is be with your friends." It's not that I don't want to spend time with them ... I do, I have. I just ... have so many things to do! It's hard to relax and watch a TV feature on the life of Queen Elizabeth II when you've got finals and NZ paperwork and tricky physics homework looming over your head, not to mention thoughts of your friends back on campus, eating pie and watching the James Bond marathon, or even worse, a full house back home, everybody stuffed to the brim with Mom's fabulous bread rolls and sweet potatoes and tangy cranberry dressing, so much laughter and life and after-dinner chatting sprawled out all over the family room and in the kitchen. I haven't been homesick all semester really, until today, when we started eating Thanksgiving dinner, and I thought to myself This doesn't really feel right. Immediately I felt incredibly ungrateful and reminded myself that I am SO lucky to have family, such wonderful family, here to stay with and spend the holiday with, and I do love them SO much, really deeply with all of my heart. But ... if I could have chosen between here and Maine, there would have been no question. I just feel so antsy here, like I'm wasting time. I constantly feel like I should be doing something, that I'm losing ground, there's this quiet panic always in the back of my mind. It is fun to watch them fuss and fudder over little things like where to put the leftover beans, and to hear their stories about Mom when she was younger, and life when they were in England. It never ceases to amaze me that they have been alive for such a long time; they're not actually very old, mid-seventies, but when we were watching the QEII documentary they would say things like "I was there" or "I used to wear hats like that" or "Remember Enid went to her coronation in '53." Those corny old black and white film clips always seem to have a marching band playing in the background, with the same assertive, announcer-like male voice narrating each one, whether it's British or American, WWI or WW2. It always seems to me like these people, these times, must have been made up, or at least, much longer ago than they actually were. If you really think about how much has changed, it's enough to fill up your brain and keep on filling until you find yourself turned into a roaring niagra falls of people and technology and values and history and old stockings and old photos and old ladies hats. Another thing that struck me is how much Mom looked like Lady Di when she was younger. Really, it's a striking resemblance -- the same haircut, blue eyes, complexion ... wow. She was beautiful. She IS beautiful still, now that I think about it, but in a different way, not stunning, not fresh and stylish like those glamourous photos of Di in long dresses and big hats and high heels and sunglasses, but ... I don't know how to describe it, except to say that, if the beauty of a person were measured by her/his actions, expressions, emotions, and love for other people, she would be the most beautiful person I know. I never really got over that "mom-worshipping" stage that most girls go though on their way to "mom-doesn't-know-anything" stage, which usually leads to the "mom's-ok-but-kind-of-annoying" stage. I wonder if I ever will.