(no subject)
I am feeling pretty stoked, but also relaxed. I've been working so hard since I arrived in France a couple of months ago. I'm sick of my language school, but I only have to conjugate advanced grammar for one more month and then I will be free. I've sent off two out of three of my graduate school applications for next year in the UK, I am really curious to see if I will get it. I want it so badly, but I also know its incredibly possible to fail, as most of the time when I apply for things I don't get them. I guess I am not a winner, or maybe the system is hard. But I always find a way to weasel into some weird version of success. Par example, I was rejected for the teaching assistantship that i thought would land me in France, but here I am, living and working legally on a visa, and probably having a much better time in this big city than I would have in the middle of a little village, where all my friends who got accepted into the program were put, with no public transport and not even a bar in sight.
Next quarter I am going to be in London, writing my senior thesis and hanging out at archives and hopefully touching and drooling on old books, or even potentially letters and manuscripts, written by my lady, Mary Wollstonecraft. I miss reading everything laying around me. I miss English, but I do like having everything be French. its not so weird anymore, I just only understand about 65% of what happens around me. Still, English. Its my babe. I am starting to really miss libraries and bookstores and magazines laying around. I hadn't realized how much written work I consume, and although I can read in French, there is a struggle that disconnects me from that full body experience of thought that I get when reading in English. I have a kindle with me and sometimes I buy the International Tribune paper at the train station which is expensive, but mostly I read online/on screen and I kind of hate that. My old house mates were sweeties and they sent me a package with books and magazines but it has yet to arrive.
Goodnight!
Next quarter I am going to be in London, writing my senior thesis and hanging out at archives and hopefully touching and drooling on old books, or even potentially letters and manuscripts, written by my lady, Mary Wollstonecraft. I miss reading everything laying around me. I miss English, but I do like having everything be French. its not so weird anymore, I just only understand about 65% of what happens around me. Still, English. Its my babe. I am starting to really miss libraries and bookstores and magazines laying around. I hadn't realized how much written work I consume, and although I can read in French, there is a struggle that disconnects me from that full body experience of thought that I get when reading in English. I have a kindle with me and sometimes I buy the International Tribune paper at the train station which is expensive, but mostly I read online/on screen and I kind of hate that. My old house mates were sweeties and they sent me a package with books and magazines but it has yet to arrive.
Goodnight!