WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 2010
Prolepsis Analepsis
I am at the same café I started my Oxford journey on, a little over a year ago in March, 2009, during my first week’s exploration of my new surroundings. I’m sipping away at my cappuccino outside (though it’s still a bit chilly), enjoying the blue skies above. The airplanes are still grounded due to the Icelandic volcano so there are no jet streams traversing the clear blue.
I just made my first visit to the Citizen’s Advice Bureau on St. Aldate’s Street in City Center to explore my options for establishing residency in England. I am going to try to work part-time, volunteer, and study on my own time next year; I need a respite from all the radical changes I’ve undergone during this past year. What future holds – I am not certain. It has all been a little overwhelming and I need to pull the reigns in a bit so I can make sense of the choices I have made, am making, and will continue to make.
I really love Oxford – and the greater England – it’s like a home to me, and I can’t imagine returning to the sterility of Los Angeles with all the cars and distances between places. I can’t imagine not hearing the many permutations of the English accent that I hear daily, nor can I imagine not seeing the numerous friends I’ve made here. I also can’t imagine not walking or taking a familiar bus to places that are now mapped out in my head.
There is so much life here – people from all over the world come here to see Oxford; I was one of those tourists with cameras once-upon-a-time, and now I look to the newcomers and smile to myself with some quaint sense of satisfaction. Students from various European countries regularly cluster together, speaking their respective languages, and there is a flow to life now, here.
A boutique in the Covered Market caught my eye today; there was a part-time job offering posted on their front door. I went in and inquired as to the nature of the job, and indicated my interest. The couple who owned the store seemed nice enough, and we joked about my “Americanness.” I’ll bring a CV to them soon. It would fit in with my 20-hour a week mandate, and though I wouldn’t make much money, it’s a start. I just want to be a regular person here – not a student, and I want to receive a little moral support for trying.
My “sensitivity” is the whack-a-mole hammer that reduces me to nothing and makes me out to be an idiot, so I now tell myself that I’m on my own – this is between me and myself; no one outside will or can do a thing to help me or offer their comfort. Next stop: Job search. I might have to go back to the U.S. to renew my visa, but I don’t really care anymore. I’m on my own, and this is the life I chose way-back-when, last year. I wish I were strong. Instead, I’m realizing how weak I actually am, and how foolishly I act.
In this world, one is on his/her own; battles aren’t played out with others holding your hands or helping. Battles are fought on lonely fields, and in times of uncertainty, one’s word means nothing; actions speak for themselves and words are cheap. So I press on, hoping that I will be able to resolve matters on my own – all strings severed. Expect nothing, and everything else will be a surprise.
I just made my first visit to the Citizen’s Advice Bureau on St. Aldate’s Street in City Center to explore my options for establishing residency in England. I am going to try to work part-time, volunteer, and study on my own time next year; I need a respite from all the radical changes I’ve undergone during this past year. What future holds – I am not certain. It has all been a little overwhelming and I need to pull the reigns in a bit so I can make sense of the choices I have made, am making, and will continue to make.
I really love Oxford – and the greater England – it’s like a home to me, and I can’t imagine returning to the sterility of Los Angeles with all the cars and distances between places. I can’t imagine not hearing the many permutations of the English accent that I hear daily, nor can I imagine not seeing the numerous friends I’ve made here. I also can’t imagine not walking or taking a familiar bus to places that are now mapped out in my head.
There is so much life here – people from all over the world come here to see Oxford; I was one of those tourists with cameras once-upon-a-time, and now I look to the newcomers and smile to myself with some quaint sense of satisfaction. Students from various European countries regularly cluster together, speaking their respective languages, and there is a flow to life now, here.
A boutique in the Covered Market caught my eye today; there was a part-time job offering posted on their front door. I went in and inquired as to the nature of the job, and indicated my interest. The couple who owned the store seemed nice enough, and we joked about my “Americanness.” I’ll bring a CV to them soon. It would fit in with my 20-hour a week mandate, and though I wouldn’t make much money, it’s a start. I just want to be a regular person here – not a student, and I want to receive a little moral support for trying.
My “sensitivity” is the whack-a-mole hammer that reduces me to nothing and makes me out to be an idiot, so I now tell myself that I’m on my own – this is between me and myself; no one outside will or can do a thing to help me or offer their comfort. Next stop: Job search. I might have to go back to the U.S. to renew my visa, but I don’t really care anymore. I’m on my own, and this is the life I chose way-back-when, last year. I wish I were strong. Instead, I’m realizing how weak I actually am, and how foolishly I act.
In this world, one is on his/her own; battles aren’t played out with others holding your hands or helping. Battles are fought on lonely fields, and in times of uncertainty, one’s word means nothing; actions speak for themselves and words are cheap. So I press on, hoping that I will be able to resolve matters on my own – all strings severed. Expect nothing, and everything else will be a surprise.
No comments:
Post a Comment