Cultural Difference, University Whining, the Usual.

So I'm back in England after what felt like the shortest break from university ever. And in some ways, it kind of was, since 5 days were shaved off of it due to London's snow and poor excuse for damage control, and I only got four weeks to begin with. But I got to see Coldplay again in that time, so I can't complain too much about that.

I mostly did a whole lot of nothing at home, which is exactly what I wanted and needed. It snowed three times (one of those times it snowed three feet!), it was absolutely freezing, I got to eat all the disgusting food I've been missing, I got to live in a clean, mold-free house again for a little while, and I marveled at the sheer size of my bedroom, which never felt large to me before I moved into this 5x10 foot box that I currently live in here in Norwich. All of these are good things.

It's interesting, though--I think I've reached the point in my ex-patriotism, which is slowly coming to a close for the time being, where I'm not phased by the constant country-switching anymore. Last year when I came home for Christmas, I had the most culture shock I'd ever had in my life upon returning to the US. I didn't have any when I got to England that September, but by the time I came home for the first time, I had epic reverse culture-shock. It seems to have lessened each time I've switched countries since then, to the point where now my spelling and vocabulary effortlessly switch to suit the country I'm in the second I land. I was only surprised by American accents this break for a few hours, and the same for English accents when I came back here. I think I'll forever be startled by the way I talk here when I do open my mouth, but I think that in itself marks my complete acclimation--until I'm reminded of my country of origin by my voice, I don't think about being a foreigner unless I'm confronted with something new (which still happens a remarkable amount of times for living here for so long).

And yet, despite all that, I think I've decided for the next few years, at least, that I know where I belong, and it's not England. I've said that before, but perhaps not that bluntly. That's not to say I never would live here again--I actually plan on it, probably for a masters degree in a few years, and a good chunk of the industry I want to work in is in London. But for the short term at least, I feel a burning desire to return to America. To do what remains to be seen, as I don't have any grand plans for the coming year and I'm more than OK with that, but after being an expat for two years, I need to reacquaint myself with the country I grew up in for longer than a month at a time and see it through my new lens. If I'm going to be completely honest, I'd go back right now if I could, move out this very second. The idea that I'm going to have to bum around Norwich all summer between my exams and my graduation actually has begun to traumatise me. I thought I'd be OK with it a few weeks ago, and then I remembered what my everyday existence is like here upon returning to start this semester. I saw the 727 bus on the road today, the one that goes to Heathrow Airport, and I instantaneously wished I was on it.

This probably has something to do with the fact that I have very little affection for either of my classes this term, whereas I was in love with one of them last semester and at least generally OK with the other. I'm taking a class in Native American writing and film, which is actually pretty good despite the fact that I don't have any stirring interest in the methods of studying the topic, and a class in the Supreme Court, which I feel wholly unprepared for and uninterested in, probably because I didn't really have a whole lot of choice in taking it. This has happened before. This has happened pretty much every semester of my university career, but somehow it feels like insult is added to injury since this is the last semester and my last semester was actually marginally good for once. The Supreme Court class has already begun to put me over the edge two weeks into the whole thing, not only because I feel like I have no background in this stuff but also because I can't seem to muster a scrap of shits to give about it. PLUS I have to take exams for these classes, an experience that didn't exactly go well last year, as well as write two essays for each. By American standards that sounds like nothing, but the fall semester and the spring semester are imbalanced with regards to means of assessment, and I most certainly prefer the fall semesters, to put it lightly.

Anyway, this has been nothing new by way of me writing about anything, except that I'm reaching the point where I'm no longer couching my situation in noncommittal, diplomatic terms: I want this whole gig to be over already and I want to live in America again.