Is this the real life?

I survived the first day of London. It doesn't sound like much, but this required four or five winds of energy, a lot of caffeine, and an unflinching hope that the interminable, freezing rain would stop.

Flights were fine, save for a hyperactive, step-dancing child in Newark who nearly kicked my laptop. The 90-minute-long queue for border control was not so fine. Dragging a 40-pound bag on my shoulder was also not fine. The cab ride in from Heathrow, in which my sympathetic driver stopped at the Theatre Royal Haymarket so I could get a ticket for a play, was extra fine.

Was unable to check in at Grosvenor House until 1:30. Room is not big enough to fit suitcase horizontally. Refuse to pay 300 GBP a week for this shit if this is the room I'll have come the academic year. Room also has no electricity upon arrival. Solid job, LSE.


SERIOUSLY?

Having arrived at 10:15, this sucked inordinate amounts. Bought UK SIM card. Registered with NHS. Begged housing to let me into my real, non-miniscule room early. Was denied. Went food shopping at Tesco Express. Broke the cash register at Tesco Express. Am now probably banned from Tesco Express. Will now subsist solely on Special K, white wine, and Diet Coke.


Meal of champions.

Have UK debit card with no money on it. Cheque won't be processed for two weeks. Is there a British colloquialism for "shit"?

Napped for approximately one hour before realizing that London could have both outrageous heat and muggy rain in the same minute. Could not find convenience store that is apparently a block away, so went to Piccadilly Circus for conditioner. Made it home, returned to Piccadilly for coffee. Despite coffee, still almost passed out during Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, starring my two favorite History Boys. Sat in favorite seat in the center of the front row, which now means I've seen up said History Boys' noses. Stalked the stage door until was informed that History Boys were drinking at the bar inside and would not come out. Until tomorrow, History Boys.

Tomorrow: Betrayal. Friend from home. Sleep? This is England.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is what we call "purgatory"

I leave in 23 days. Am I ready? No. Am I remotely prepared for my MSc in Political Sociology? God, no. Do I understand sociological theory in the slightest? HA. Will I have crushing student debt for just a year of studying? In the words of the lesser Sarah P., you betcha!

I have the distinct feeling that studying abroad isn't going to be so unbearably light this time around.

BUT. I do have my visa and I FINALLY have a housing assignment. I also have a Hannah Arendt finger puppet to bring some unbearable lightness to this year of dense theories and repetitive readings. This, dear readers, is what we call a great success.

Winning London one unexpected acceptance at a time

'Ello, readers!

So you might have noticed that I haven't posted in a few months. It's partially because I'm no longer living a fabulous existence jet-setting around Europe, and also partially because I'm bored to death in Miami, and yeah. What's happened the past few months? Well, I've been trying to survive senior year. There have been a few close calls, but I'm still standing.

There was a time where I thought I'd be spending the year after graduating in Germany, and while that's still a slight possibility, there's something potentially even more exciting.

I've been accepted to grad school -- not just any grad school, either. Only my dream grad school in one of my favorite cities on earth.


Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to the London School of Economics. You may have guessed from the name (but a surprising number of people don't make the connection), but it's in London: London as in the capital of both England and the United Kingdom.



Guess who's going back to Europe this fall!

But yeah, any way, I have a conditional acceptance for the MA History of International Relations, the only conditions being that I, you know, actually graduate, and that I do so with a 3.5 overall, which I think is doable but really, finite math might thwart me yet. I decided that I don't really want History of International Relations so I've applied to change my degree to MSc Political Sociology, but even if I don't get in, I don't lose my original acceptance.

Song of the year:


Living the dream.