Where do I go from here

Over the last few weeks a lot has happened in some areas of my life and in other not so much. I’ll begin by talking about Fall break, which was about two weeks ago. I went home with my best friend Devi to visit her family and friends in Thorton Colorado (just outside Denver). The trip was a long one. It takes 8 hours to drive straight there (not exactly going the speed limit). We gained an hour on our way there and lost an hour on our way back. We went in Devi’s car which unfortunately (or fortunately) is a stick shift, which meant that I could not help with the drive. I did my best though to stay awake and keep her company.

I was really excited for this trip. One, I was going to finally go mountain climbing (a task I had been planning and failing to do for almost a year now), two, I was going to see the places that my best friend loved and had told me about, and finally, and most importantly, I was going to get the opportunity to reconnect with my dearest friend. During the first two months of school, I had been anything but a good friend. So caught up in my own suffering, I found it difficult to talk opening and closely with her. Each time I spoke with her, I would watch her face frown and her eyes intensify with a mixture of worry and pity. It hurt me to see the hurt in her and I knew that as someone who had just come back from a life changing journey of her own to India, she was suffering in much the same way I was. It was my hope that during this trip we could get back to the core of our friendship and it did. I think that is what made this trip the best for me. No matter what I saw, or did, I got a best friend back and I got to make some new memories with her.

We only spent 3 and ½ days in Colorado, but it was filled with plenty of activity. Devi had numerous favourite coffee shops to show me, and that is what we did. We also left a little time for work, as the first day was spent homeworking (yes I made that a verb), with a little break through a park. This break was actually quite a nice surprise as the park near the library (where we spent the rest of the afternoon) had hundreds of prairie dogs…they were extremely adorable and I had never seen them so up close and personal. The next day we went to downtown Denver and I got to admire the long pedestrian walk way and some of the finer points of Denver’s public transportation. We also just saw the sights and sounds of the city and I was once again struck with the ways cities function in the US.

Now, I have been looking at Med schools and a lot of my choices have reflected a very careful consideration of the environment around that med school. I have looked at schools in cities which I think would have some of the lifestyle choices that I want to experience. Denver is on that list (University of Colorado, Denver). I was really hoping that Denver would feel new, and fresh and innovative…but it didn’t. It felt like Indy, or KC, or any other American city I have been to (with a few exceptions). I was a bit disappointed. This did kind of scare me. Maybe the feeling I was looking for, the public transportation, the nature cityscape, was a dream or a fabrication that I was never going to find again. I tried not to let this bother me. There are plenty beautiful things in Denver as well and I was grateful for the opportunity to explore it with a local.

We ended the day in Denver by going to the art museum with Devi’s mother. It was a great experience. We saw a local exhibit from a oil painter that I found captivating. We limited ourselves to two exhibits and I was thoroughly impressed with the scope and beauty of the museum. There was a moment though that stopped me dead in my tracks. I have made great strides in my ability to get over Oxford and my experience. I no longer feel the weight and longing that I did and I can usually talk about it freely without having to revisit the depression that I felt. But something about walking through the art museum reminded me of one of the last times I had been to an art museum, the Ashmolean near the end of my stay. It was as though the wind had been knocked out of me and I wondered if I wouldn’t collapse where I stood. Just another reminder that you can’t run away from your past and there will always be scars.

The last full day we spent in Denver was the one that I was looking forward to the most. Getting up extremely early (5am), Devi and I set off for Estes Park to go mountain climbing. We went to one of her more familiar trails and set off in the early hours to reach Tiger lake. It took about an hour or so to drive to Estes park from Devi’s home. When the car turned a corner and stretched before me was a valley which contained a small town beside Estes Park and the snow capped mountains just beyond, it was breath taking. I could feel my self grow more excited. We started the trail at about 8am (this was after grabbing coffee at another one of Devi’s favourites). It is a good thing I had a lot of enthusiasm because it was a constant uphill battle towards the lake. We climbed so high that it began snowing and both Devi and I covered ourselves back up in layers. I felt the challenge, but always kept up with the quick pace that a natural of the mountains, Devi, took. We reached the lake, after crossing some rapids with the bridge out, about 4 hours later at noon. We were getting a little tired, but mostly we were cold. We didn’t stay too long before turning around and making our way back. Sometimes you never realize how long you have been going up hill until you start going down it. It was a bit worrying going down, as the trail was littered with jagged rocks and once or twice I landed on them wrong. I tried to keep cheerful, but by the end of the journey, I was hurtin pretty bad. My hips were surprisingly the first to protest and I was relieved to reach the car. That said, I felt very accomplished. I have a fitbit pedometer and all around fitness calculator, which I wore through the whole journey. It felt good to accomplish the 16 mile hike round trip and climb the equivalent of 288 flights of stairs. I like to feel that I have earned my day, I have earned the opportunity to live, I have demonstrated my youth and fitness. Though it is clear it wore me out, as I crashed at 10pm that evening (an early night for a college student).

The last day we enjoyed some more time with Devi’s family before making the long and exhausting journey back. The drive back was a lot harder than the drive there, but I was grateful to have gotten to take the journey with my best friend.

Since coming back, I have continued to balance my social and academic life. It is working out better now, but I am struck by the constant grind that is academics at Jewell. I still struggle finding meaning in all of it. One of the good things that has happened is that my Medical School application is finally live and I have begun filling out the numerous secondary applications for the 9 schools that I am applying to. This has gotten me thinking about what I want to do after med school (I realize this is looking a bit far). I have begun to try and imagine my life as a doctor. There is one thing that has been rolling around in my head quite a bit. I have developed a fierce affection for infectious disease (this I’ve had for a long time) and I have also become very sensitive to global crisis. For awhile I joked about working for the CDC combating infectious disease in the lab, but with my new found global interests, I am thinking that maybe it would be better to look at a more global organization. I am honestly considering a career with the world health organization. Now there is a part of that which terrifies me. The idea of going into the developing world (far from my western amenities) is a struggle for me, but I also really like the idea of helping people and being there to fight crisis. I’m not adverse to putting myself at risk for such a goal either. I also like the freedom that such a career would give in terms of livability. Being a part of an international organization will give me the opportunity to see the world and possibly be based in any city I like. The restraints that I have now become aware of as a United States citizen may be more flexible as I truly get to be a global citizen. I’m of course not committing to anything yet, but it has been on my mind and it will take some time for me to sort the reality of the situation to the fantasy that I have constructed in my head. But it is worth mentioning.

I guess to conclude, I am trying to make the most of my situation here. I am trying to incorporate the lessons I have learned and the experiences I have had to my future in a real way. I still talk with people from the UK every day and I am touched by the friendship that I have found there. I am looking forward to visiting again next summer. There is a community there and it is waiting for me. There is a part of me that will never feel whole again without it. In the mean time, I am trudging forward, intrepidly and with a little bit of weariness. But, it is safe to say, all things considered, I’m doing just fine.

Until Then,

Adventures Await!

This is what Friends are For

The last two weeks have been more of the same. By that I mean, I have been crushed and beaten and despite my efforts to be a good person, I have failed. Despite this, I have really validated some of things I learned about myself over the last year and have come to new revelations about myself. It is very difficult to express grief (I feel offended by anyone who describes it as angst). I have also reached the point where I refuse to let myself wallow, because honestly that is what I have been doing. I have allowed myself to take joy in grief, particularly twisted satisfaction in the form of self perceived martyrdom.

The week before last was homecoming. I have my own reservations about the nature of homecoming and particularly the way my university practically forces everyone to participate through the strict homecoming competition. Even with my reservations about the meaning behind such activity, I do generally enjoy the opportunity to work towards something and I think by now, most of you know how competitive I am. It was probably during the practices for homecoming that I realized how vital it is for me to have a creative outlet. We were practicing our song and dance for competition and the activity, the theatrics of the event sent me into a creative high of un-abandoned joy though perhaps a bit chaotically. The opportunity to be theatrical, to improv, and creatively express myself had been so stifled since my return. Without regularly role playing (or GMing), I was missing a piece of myself and it was very clear that this was a major component to my unhappiness. To some degree, this realization spurred my seeking alternatives, and I have, though tenuously, found a group of people to role play with again.

Another problem with homecoming for me is how it affects my health. A good majority of homecoming requires screaming and cheering as loud as possible (in order to win the competition). I suffer from migraines on occasion. Migraines for me are triggered through exertion of my voice and result in aberrations of my vision followed by a painful headache (enough to knock me out of doing anything), and if I remain conscious, regional numbness and tingling. Even if I take the maximum dose of ibuprofen, I still get a headache. Not to mention, the next day, I am usually scattered and suffer from secondary lack of focus and mental fortitude. I avoid migraines as much as possible and have even become attune to notice when I am approaching the point of no return for them. Every year that I have participated in homecoming, I have gotten a migraine. Of course, this year was no different. This was not made better by my required participation. It makes me feel awful to let down the members of my sorority. I want to be able to participate, but I am always hesitant and it is not often understood my need to step back to avoid disaster.  

So homecoming was busy and emotionally draining. Fortunately that weekend I was able for the first time in two weeks to hang out with friends. I felt revitalized (well perhaps not physically, yay parties). Friendship is all I need to sustain me. For the first time in weeks, I actually felt a considerable amount of peace and happiness, even when everything else in my life was a reminder that nothing had really changed.

This last week has been far less eventful, but still a reminder that I’m not through the woods yet. There is a degree of distance that I have undergone. The emotions are less intense, but I will admit that this has left me wistful. A reminder about the impermanence of everything. I will admit that this has brought on a considerable bought of nostalgia. As I mark the one year mark from when I left Oxford, the ability to visualize that time has become so clear. Though the feelings and emotions associated are held at a distance with the bittersweet mark of nostalgia.

One of the classes that I am taking, and I don’t think I’ve complained about on this blog, is my Critical Thought and Inquiry capstone (for non-Jewell people this just means final course in the core curriculum). It is a class which focuses on the relationship between Plague Piety and Public Policy. Now you might be saying, “Kayla, didn’t you pretty must take this class in Oxford through your human growth and development epidemiology course?” and the answer would be yes. Yes I did. I could teach this class most days. Yet another example of the frustrations I am having with this year. But ignoring that fun little tidbit about my life, the reason I bring it up is to talk about one of the books we are reading in it. Camus’s Plague does perhaps the best job capturing some of my emotional states over the last few months. In his book, he follows the narrative of town in Algeria as it is hit by a plague and enters a quarantine. In particular, his writing in the first part of act 2 is particularly poignant. At this point in the story, the town has shut down its boarders suddenly and without warning for most of its people. This has left a number of people trapped inside the town and a number of people trapped outside. He spends most of this first section discussing the feelings of separation that the people within the quarantine zone suffered. The following are quotes that I think capture the many moments and frustrations that I felt I faced and thus felt great empathy for.

 “It was undoubtedly the feeling of exile --- that sensation of a void within which never left us, that irrational longing to hark back to the past or else to speed up the march of time, and those keen shafts of memory that stung like fire” (Camus 71).

“Therefore they forced themselves never to think about the problematic day of escape, to cease looking to the future, and always to keep, so to speak, their eyes fixed on the ground at their feet” (Camus 72).

 “Thus, too, they came to know the incorrigible sorrow of all prisoners and exiles, which is to live in the company with a memory that serves no purpose. Even the past, of which they thought incessantly, had a savor only of regret.” (Camus 73).

 “Hostile to the past, impatient of the present, and cheated of the future, we were much like those whom men’s justice or hatred, forces to live behind prison bars” (Camus 73).

“’But, damn it, Doctor, can’t you see it’s a matter of common human feeling? Or don’t you realize what this sort of separation means to people who are fond of each other?’
Rieux was silent for a moment, then said he understood it perfectly. He wished nothing better than that Rambert should be allowed to return to his wife and that all who loved on another and were parted should come together again…
‘No,’ Rambert said bitterly, ‘you can’t understand. You’re using the language of reason, not of the heart; you live in a world of abstractions.’
 The doctor glanced up at the statue of the Republic, then said he did not know if he was using the language of reason, but he knew he was using the language of the facts as everybody could see them---which wasn’t necessarily the same thing” (Camus 87).

"Abstraction for him was all that stood in the way of his happiness. Indeed, Rieux had to admit the journalist was right, in one sense. But he knew, too, that abstraction sometimes proves itself stronger than happiness; and then, if only then, it has to be taken into account" (Camus 91)

So, hopefully his words can better express the way I have been feeling. I hate to have to defer to the words of another to express myself, but I was struck by the skill that these passages had at capturing those feelings.  But once again, I foresee your comment. You say, “but Kayla, you are not in a quarantine. You are not physically prevented from going places. Probably most all, you are not faced with death and loss in the same way as the people in this book faced them. Surely your emotions could not hold the same strength.”

To that I say, I think they do. The quarantine is not imposed by the government, it does not result in physical death and the people I know and care about are still within touch via Skype and many other means of communication which makes my position all the more privileged. However, the internet does not contain the same reality as real life and is subject to a number of conditions that aren’t necessarily always true. In particular, does the other person have technology capable of communication, do you or the other person have internet. Images can not replace physical presence. I am not free to go anywhere. I am restricted by convenience. Limited by what is inconvenient. And the more I am absent in those people’s lives, the more they diminish in significance and reality as I do for them. Perhaps we are all quarantined in such ways, but the situation is made painfully apparent to me through this abrupt transition. I am struck each time by how much my life in Oxford feels like a fantasy. My travels must have happened in my imagination, because the memory is no more real than television. That is what is most painful. Reading this passage of Camus’s book nearly brought me to tears as I found myself face to face with my own reality.

All this being said, the only way to move forward is positively. I have to keep trying to make things better and I have to keep fighting the oppressive feeling of exile. I have learned that I don’t advocate for myself when I am suffering. I am more inclined to value the suffering of another over my own. I will trap myself into complaining about my own suffering but not doing anything about it.  It is self-centered in a way that is self-gratifying and I need to make changes. So I am trying, one day at a time. For now though, I may dwell in some nostalgia, but only for a moment.

Source: Camus, Albert. The Plague. New York: Modern Library, 1948. Print.

Update

I have tried a new experiment this time. Rather than in one moment writing out all of my thoughts, I have kept a record of my thoughts and feelings over the course of the last week. The result is a little more disjointed than usual and in some ways more personal, be warned now. To give the short of it, this week was a few thousand steps backwards in terms of my emotional journey coming home. Additionally, I was hit is a new set back, my research project needs to be completely redone. There goes nearly a year of work. These are some of my reflections and while I could have kept them to myself, I did feel some need to post them more publically. I still don't know why I prefer this medium of sharing my life, perhaps it is because I acknowledge that I am not wise or experienced enough to understand myself and by publically stating it I hope for some kind of help. This feels more real. An honest acknowledgement of myself. It is a way to embrace who I am, because if I don't share it then it suggest there is something I dislike or am ashamed of about myself. Well, I suppose I should get on with it. These musings are for another time. 

It is amazing the need I feel to impact my surroundings, to truly inhabit them. I am suffocated by the endless fear that my absence will not be felt, particularly in a space I enjoyed inhabiting. If I've found a home, a place worth being, then I want to mark it as my space, wrap myself in the scenery, make an indention in the matter that makes my absence a void, a reminder that I am not there. For I know that to be forgotten is a true death. To be forgotten by people you care about, a more true death than any in mortal flesh. (I find the drama, while melancholy in nature, also peaceful because my feelings are melancholy in nature and weigh me down. It makes me sad to think that honesty and phrasing make others rebuke and mock my feelings. There is truth in melodrama. Sometimes things are felt strongly enough to warrant strong responses. Just because language seems extreme it doesn't mean I don't have the experience to judge it so and or that I am trying to manipulate people into being sympathetic.)  It feels as though my life before England was filled with half emotions. To feel is to be alive. I remember the haze only interrupted by Gencon and moments of embarrassment. I recognize that memory is an untrustworthy historian, and I'm sure there were a few happy moments as well as there were sad ones in England. Memory is all I have and I think back to the moment where I sat beside someone I cared about and thought, come a months time or two, I will be sitting somewhere else, far from this person and the new place will feel more real than this moment. This space will be only memory and imagination, a pale replacement for real life. I will begin to question its reality and make fictitious accounts of this experience. It will no longer be the present. I will lose its presence in my self and I will be entrenched in an experience which lacks even an ounce of the life I so enjoyed. I will be trapped in a foreign place which I have no desire to impart myself into. I will mourn a space I left more strongly than any person who still inhabits the space around it. Because I know that my impact will be lost. Like an impression in snow, my presence is impermanent. I will be forgotten. I will die. 

and no, it will not be a quick death. It will be a slow one. Like a terminal patient, I will get many visitors for a time, then fewer and then none. I anticipate the loneliness and that loneliness when it comes will be unbearable. 

The emotions I am having are unstable at best and self destructive at worst. My back has clenched in more ways than I can count and despite spending an hour meditating and trying to relax, I only felt a deep pain in both my upper and lower back. I get anxious all of the time, often without reason. I have been prone to burst of anger so red and hot that the thought of punching someone or something was appealing for the catharsis. I feel like I can't rely on my friends because they don't quite understand these feelings and many are struggling with their own version of suffering. To rely on them would be cruel and burdensome, Particularly when there is little they can do. Sympathy or empathy are unhelpful as while they may alleviate temporary stress and frustration, when those feelings are constant, it becomes disingenuous. My attempts to find solutions have all been met with failure and I am stuck and hopeless. I just need something to change and I've run out of options or the only changes I see are ones that are worse. 

My family suggested medication or therapy and that terrifies me more. Why should someone live a way that makes them unhappy? Taking medication or even therapy feels like treating a symptom not a cause. It is a step to live with a situation, giving up, making a situation bearable. Why shouldn't we listen to our feelings? Why do I feel like everyone denies their feelings and expects me to do the same? 

One of the struggles is that my life is filled with so much tedium that there is often little time to seek alternatives. I waste my time with my courses which aren't preparing me for my future career and are meaningless boxes that I have to tick to receive a piece of paper that says I'm competent enough to continue my education. It is remarkable how little this year will impact my future and I am left questioning why it has to happen at all. I've taken the MCAT and my applications are sent out. I struggle to see how this year is making me a better physician and given the struggle it is to live through, I wish that I didn't have to bother. 

I have found some calm, today or yesterday, and this is through the realization that I have to find some way to make being alone fulfilling. Which for an extrovert like me is like asking a person to live in a desert with no water.  I read somewhere that happiness is about action. It is engaging in activity which makes you happy. Passivity is never going to make a person happy. And I do try. I have tried many times to actively pursue happiness, but with little luck these last couple months. It is funny, in moments where something resembling the activity I once liked occurs, I become giddy with emotion as all the emotions and outlets that have remained bottled up spill over. Similarly, in those moments alone, I still find the pain creep out and suffocate me. Where I thought I was done crying, I find more tears and suffering. 

Convenience and Professionalism, or lack there of

I should preface this by saying that I am doing better, or at least some version of better. I no longer feel like each day should be spent in bed and the amount of crying has subsided. I even have a few moments I enjoy here or there. So, while things are better, there are still plenty of things which frustrate me day to day. I still get sad and angry and there are still days where my bed seems to be more attractive than spending another moment here.

I am fortunately more busy. I think this is one of the main things to improve my mood. When I am busy, I don’t worry about the future and feeling productive has always been something that makes me feel good about myself. Though as a result, I have noticed that my mood often parallels my level of busy, with the beginning of a week beginning better than the end or the weekend. It is a weird cycle that tends to contradict most people’s feelings about the week and it leaves me often not emotionally available when other people are up for hanging out.

One of the ideas that I have been contemplating these last couple weeks is the idea of convenience. How much of our lives as humans is determined by convenience. There seem to be many levels of convenience. Things that are convenient and you do, things that are convenient but you don’t do, things that are inconvenient and you don’t do them and finally things that are inconvenient but you do them anyway. Convenience also seems to be a sliding scale with the activity falling into a careful cost reward calculation. Humans seem most inclined to do things that cost little and have a large reward. That seems to be darwinian in a way and thus natural. But to do something that is inconvenient seems to be contradictory for human nature. What does it mean to do something that is inconvenient? Does it suggest that you are betraying some natural part of yourself. I’m not sure I want an answer, but it has been something on my mind as I consider how my life is structured now and how I want to structure it in the future. To what extent do I let inconvenience dictate my life, my relationships.

The other concept which has been popping up in my life a lot is professionalism, in particular the lack of it here at Jewell. It is a systemic problem of both the faculty and students here at Jewell to check their email and respond in a timely manner. I don’t care how busy you are, it is irresponsible to not be reachable by email. In particular, my pre-med advisor has been bad at getting to me about medical school aps, the athletics department took forever to email me back about archery, and most of all my sorority sisters are completely failing at being available. This lack of professionalism leads to me feeling alone and isolated. I’ve gone back to the old way of thinking that I can’t rely on anyone but myself to get things done. It becomes frustrating when you feel as though other people are holding you back. One particular anxiety I have is concerned with my medical school applications. I am still waiting on Oxford and my administration to handle my grades. Without my transcript, I can’t even submit my med school applications. The first deadline (Sept 30) is fast approaching and I am left stagnated waiting on other people to get their shit together.

It is an unending string of frustration here. Finally after nearly a week from when I went into the offices to inquire about archery they got back to me, perhaps the only good news I have had in awhile. I can’t rely on this community to support me. The infrastructure is weak. I never felt like I had this problem when I was in Oxford, even when I had two tutors bail on me.
In fact, my whole education here has been an unending string of frustrations. Last week, I came to the realization that a majority of my tutorials here at Jewell were from first time tutors. In fact, all the current biology tutors are tutors who has me as their first tutee. I have systematically trained and become the benchmark for all the tutorials at Jewell in the Molecular Biology program. The person in charge of my program now had her first tutorial experience with me my sophomore year. I can’t help but feel like my education has suffered from this string of misfortunes. Add on the fact that I am the single Molecular Biology major in my grade and that my experience was already unique to begin with. I just feel the weight of this frustrations on me every day as I am inconvenienced left and right by other people. As I suffer each strike against me that could have seriously negative consequences on my future, a future that I am already sacrificing for.

So yes, I suppose my latest emotional thrust has been one of deep anger and frustration and not one of depression. Still there is a sort of hopelessness that accompanies these frustrations, so much of it is beyond my control. A common theme of this year seems to be having to accept with resignation what is happening to me, because the commitment I made was one of ignorance but not without reservation. Now I am vindicated by the reservations I had but it is to late. I must lie in the bed I made.

Ennui

There were many times over the last week where I considered writing a blog post. However something I can only consider akin to fear stopped me. Maybe it was a fear that for once my usually blunt honesty would only reveal just how uncomfortable I was and by saying such things I would be dooming myself to accept the fate which is slowly killing me (not quite physically, but the parts of me that make me love myself).

The last few weeks have been many iterations of one step forward a few steps back. Like a receding tide, I could feel my self growing more complacent at home but at the same time this accompanied a sort of numbness that reflected a backwards progression in my mental state. Apathy and a sense of ennui accompanied my days. Fortunately, there were brief moments of something, (perhaps passion) as I anticipated and developed my costume for Gencon. I would consider this a plateau of sorts over the course of the next few weeks, just because in terms of emotional outbursts there was a sense of calm. And I began to hope that I had found an element of stability.

Gencon was everything I expected and then not. I could feel long forgotten excitement well up in me as my sister and I spent time at the convention hall the Wednesday before the convention. Or the various messages that I used to coordinate seeing the people who I only got to see once a year. But despite this, my anticipation led to no pay off. Even when I saw people who I had missed, or who had made my experiences at Gencon for the last few years something remarkably special, I felt little to nothing. I tried repeatably to enjoy myself, to get lost in the experience, but everything was filtered with at best gray apathy and at worst frustration. There were few moments which I could honestly say were lost in excitement or at the very least a fleeting distraction. By the end of Gencon, I was devastated. I had hoped for some relief from everything in my life that was crushing me, but instead found that the strangle hold that my mental state had prevented me from enjoying or find solace in something that was once so special and dear to me.

I didn’t have much time to consider this as I had to drive the very next day to university in Kansas City. It was surprising but being extremely sleep deprived as I was, did provide some comfort. For at least the purposes of the trip, I was not really capable of reflecting on my experience. It was nice to spend some time with my mom.

When I had gone to meetings about traveling abroad before I’d gone to Oxford, one of the aspects of the emotional journey was reverse culture shock. When I came home the two times, I would not have identified really any elements of reverse culture shock. I kept in fairly good contact with home during the course of the year and I was able to track any substantial changes in my home life (of which there were very few). Jewell, on the other hand, had changed so much that the only thing that could describe the plunge that my mental state took was reverse culture shock. Between having a new building which was finished the August before we left, a complete reworking of the classroom setting with the introduction of our new ipads, half the school population being strangers I had never met, and the many more subtle changes that just made me feel like this was a strange and foreign place. I immediately felt like a stranger and became heartbroken to discover that the people I thought I knew were just as changed. I felt very singularly alone. The worst of it all was that as a senior, who knew that a year was a short amount of time, I had no desire to become familiar with this place again. I felt myself withdraw and the first few days were mentally and emotionally exhausting.

As classes started, I tried to remain productive. There were only two or three problems with this. For one, there were many things that I no longer remembered about the process of registration and about reincorporating myself into the system, so understandably I had to deal with frustrating mistakes. The second was that I didn’t have a lot to occupy myself with. I came to Jewell with the fantastic revelation that yet another of my tutors had up and vanished and that I would have yet again new tutors for the coming year. Additionally, one of my tutors was still in the process of moving and would not be here until September. This meant that my work load was already a bit underwhelming. Two of my classes are physical education, which means no outside work. My remaining class, which I would come to realize, was going to be largely review as my combined tutorial work over the last term at Oxford covered all the material. So as boredom crept in, I became more reclusive.

I was able over the course of this time to remain in touch with the individuals dear to my heart in Oxford. But even that didn’t free me from the weight I was feeling about everything. One of the major problems at Jewell, is that there is very little to do outside of school work. The town square, which is the only thing in walking distance, is very dead most of the time and lacks adequate places worth visiting. This means that most free time must be taken up one of two ways, internet or drinking. Neither of which, I have at late enjoyed.

But here we are, come to the end of another blog post that is me complaining about my life. A life that for most people would be blessed. And I know that. The rational and objective part of myself is still at war with the passionate and emotional part of myself. As they duke it out, I fear that I will lose one or the other. The only conclusion I have come to is that I have changed so much that I no longer fit in this life, as defined by the activities and environment and people that surround me. So I feel constrained and beat up as I try to fit in here, to find a way to survive this chapter of my life. So, I’m sorry. I’m just another privileged person unable to delight in the privileges I have. Who with a cry for attention, can’t just accept the way things are and is therefore so weak. I would say I’m trying but I think I’ve forgotten how.

Family

I was hoping that after nearly a month of being home, I would be able to report a feeling of accomplishment and overcoming the deep heartrending mourning to my life in Oxford. But that is far from the truth. Over the last couple weeks, I have struggled with the question of what I want in life. Unfortunately, I have come up with few answers and while I manage to put on a facade of calm, I shatter at any moment.

I feel guilty when I see the look of disappointment in my friend's and relative's eyes whenever I mention the struggles I had during my travels in Europe. Frustrated at my lack of gratitude at the opportunity to see places they have never been, may never be able to go. It makes me want to hide my honesty, and frustrated in myself for not enjoying and being humbled by the experience. It makes me feel as though people don't understand the difficulties I encountered, and reminds me that I held similar assumptions about what an adventure through Europe would be. My heart drops whenever I see the heart break in my parents eyes every time I mention my unhappiness at being home and my desire to have the life I had in Oxford. It makes me feel spoiled, like a brat. Oxford was always meant to be temporary. And now I'm complaining and pouting about it like a child. This is a first world problem, my life at home is perfectly comfortable, with more things than I probably need, food, shelter, a family that loves me. Why should I feel dissatisfied and by feeling dissatisfied does that make me a greedy and selfish first world brat who can't recognize their own privilege. It feels as though the appropriate response is to move on, to smile and to look back with fondness and be grateful.

I am grateful. I am grateful for every moment good or bad that I got to experience. Maybe I'm not expressing it well enough. I am humbled by the opportunity, but in doing it once, I am reminded that the barriers for travelling abroad are not as huge as people assume it is. But I can't seem to move on. The last few weeks, I have been preparing for medical school applications. When I really and honestly looked at myself and tried to answer the essay question about why I wanted to go to medical school, I found a self-doubt that had not been there before. At first I tried to hide it and the result was mechanical and artificial. Then my aunt, who was my editor and a frequent reader of my blog, tried to showcase it, a decision I fought initially out of fear. For a moment, I thought I could feel pride in my doubt, in being human, but then the appropriateness of it was questioned and I was back at square one. These months have taught me that no one wants to see your pain and your struggle. I don't blame them. I wish I didn't have it either. I rationally want these feelings to go away, to remain resolute once again. I want to stop feeling like a problem and a burden. I want to feel grateful and humble. But when I can't just will the emotions away, when I can't stop feeling the way I am feeling, it only feeds into that self doubt, that self-hatred. So each week, rather than getting stronger, I feel myself getting weaker and guiltier as I see the people around me get fed up in dealing with me.

I spent the last week of my life on the annual family camping trip. In the past, this tradition has always been one of my favourites. Each year, a good majority of my mother's side of the family between 14-18 people all go camping at a different location around the US (and sometimes Canada). I have seen so much of the US in the 10 years that I have been allowed to go. Since there are so many people, the trip is fairly structured with an itinerary of events and most meals planned out well in advance. Now one of the things about home that I have struggled with is the lack of people, so I was optimistic to see a large portion of my family that I had not seen for over a year and to be surrounded by so many people. This year we went it Chattanooga TN, a beautiful location along the TN river near the border of Georgia  and nestled between some of the mountains of the Appalachian. I was immediately optimistic when we rounded the corner and I was reminded what a natural location the city had and was reminded that I never did get to go hiking like I had wanted to. Going abroad really has given me a greater appreciation for the beauty in my own country.

The first full day was relatively low key. We went to the farmers market and I wasn't all that impressed. It wasn't as large as they touted and there wasn't much worth looking at. The live swing music was probably the best part. I did manage to find a jeweler who made really fascinating Jewelry and ended up coming home with a bracelet. The second day, we went to the aquarium and then had a walking tour of the city of Chattanooga. I started this day in a bad mood. I was in the wrong head space to enjoy an aquarium or anything. I wanted to sulk. I was frustrated by selfishness I had displayed that morning and the reminder that my behavior was inappropriate for an adult. I walked passively through all the displays of fish, and other than noticing the impressive design of the place, was not all that wowed. I'd managed to cheer up after lunch a little, by means I'm not particularly proud of. The walking tour gave me the chance to appreciate the city of Chattanooga which has in recent years become a very artsy city and with its natural hilly nature, an active city as well. I couldn't help but think that such qualities were ones I desired in wherever I settled down in the future.

Tuesday, I was really excited. It was the day when we were going to be on a mountain and I was anticipating some natural climbing and hiking. Could I not have been more wrong. While I did get to see beautiful views, some of which supposedly stretched 7 states, the whole experience was artificial and touristy. Rock City, the main attraction was little more than a park, with paved pathways and no freedom to explore. Not to mention the hokey gnomes and artificial Mother Goose cave. I was disheartened by the whole experience and in an effort to cheer up my active spirit my mom made the promise to try the next day to do something more active. Which we did. The unscheduled day that we always have on Wednesday was my favourite day of the whole trip. Usually, I go to see a summer blockbuster with my dad, but this year, I went rock climbing with my mom and uncle before going to the Hunter art museum. Both experiences were fun and I really enjoyed the company, something I haven't really had in awhile. We even got my uncle to rock climb with us and the ache in my muscles the next day made me smile. The museum was also loads of fun and well designed. The experience reminded me of the time I'd been to the Chicago art museum with my uncle.

Thursday we went to the Jack Daniels distillery followed by an afternoon at the nearby tiny town, which was an experience, but not a particularly memorable one. The distillation process and steps were all very interesting and it was a pretty good tour for being a free one. The nearby town, which amounted to one stop light and a square was not really worth visiting, given that the three things that were sold were Jack Daniels memorabilia, Confederate Memorabilia, and Biker gear. None of the demographics I particularly fall into. It was also a longer drive than anticipated, and I wasn't to pleased by the passivity. There are others though, who found it quite enjoyable and so I am happy to have gone.

Friday was our final day and we went on a river cruise. Now I don't know how my uncle managed it, but we were on the yacht which was beautiful all by ourselves. The captain didn't need to speak on teh loud speaker but instead sat in the bar with my family and talked about the area. I took the opportunity for some alone time as I found myself desiring more and more solitude as the week went on. I read on the front of the boat, enjoying the sun and the nice breeze that came off the front of the boat.  I enjoyed myself and the really nice boat. The rest of the afternoon, we spent at camp before going out to dinner. Everyone was packing and getting ready to leave the next day, and I found some relief at the idea of going home. Dinner was a Mongolian restaurant that was fairly good.

By the end of the week, I felt more stressed than when I had left, something I didn't think was possible, and to top it all off, when I did return home, I found I couldn't relax. Instead I felt anxiety. I tried to go to sleep early, but instead I found I couldn't really sleep. Which brings us to this moment now, where I got up and decided that the best thing to do was blog. Putting feelings to words allows me to look at them objectively, separate myself from those feelings that are burdening me. It doesn't mean they go away. Once again, I feel I should apologize for my honesty. I know people don't want to read the ramblings of a child, and many probably think that this honesty is better left to a private diary, but I've never been one to shy away from truth. Or fear exposure. I will keep trying, which is all I can do. Fortunately, Gencon is just on the horizon to distract me. I have a lot of costume pieces to put together, but I am excited for it. And excitement has been a difficult thing to muster lately. Until next time.

~KH

Reflection: Keeping it Alive

So it has been over a full week since I've been home and I would say that I have settled in and to some degree gotten over emotionally the loss of the life I had in Oxford. I want to speak to some of the things that I felt and the thoughts I have had about this past 9-10 months and to the things I have done since I got home.

My time in oxford was all about self-discovery. I think that is what studying abroad is actually about, less to do with learning a new culture (to be fair you can do this online) and seeing new places (things are less significant to life than people) and more to do with introspection. I tried to be self aware through the whole process and about half way through I reached what I would call happiness. I began to understand that I as a person had always been looking forward. I oriented my life towards a nebulous goal, to the next step in my journey, a future that I hoped would be better than my present, because I was under the assumption that as a young person, I was still building a life, not living it. During my time at Oxford I was given the time to settle down, to build a life that was all my own. My perspective began to turn towards the now instead of the future. For once in my life I relished the moment and made decisions for the present moment with little concern for my future. In doing so, I put the future I had imagined into perspective. THe future is unknown, uncertain and you can't despite your best efforts, predict it. The now is entirely in your control. You chose how you feel or think. You chose what you do on that day, who you spend your time with and what activities you devote yourself to. Living in the moment was all it took to make me happy. In the moment I could focus on those components that made me feel good about myself, such as exercise, competition, productivity, creativity, cooperation and company. I learned to thrive in a new environment with little structure or support and it felt good. I was really happy.

Coming home was like dying. That may seem a bit mellow dramatic, but hear me out. Everything I had built, everything I had been apart of, everything that made me happy and the structure necessary to participate in those things were suddenly gone. I came home to find the frame work that I had always had, the life I had had that was so future oriented. That told me that I had to prepare for Medical school, I had to anticipate some future event, because right now was only a stepping stone for tomorrow. My heart and mind revolted. I was a different person to some degree at home. This person wasn't happy. This person was too focused on the future and forgot how to live in the present. Each moment in this person's life was agony. This person didn't have any of the structure that was necessary to go to an archery range, to exercise regularly, to see people that mattered to me (other than my family, the one exception of course). I became moody and angry. This life had been all about distractions. Video games, television, projects, books, everything in an effort to distract myself so that tomorrow would come faster. Probably the hardest part, it was extremely isolating. Other than my family, only one or two other people were close enough to visit, I had gotten used to being surrounded by people, people I enjoyed getting to know and spending time with. I felt so alone. I began to resent the future that I had made for myself. That distant goal that was in many ways nebulous and uncertain. For the first time in my life I felt true doubt at the direction I was going and the things that I wanted. It was easy when the present wasn't demanding your attention to live floating towards future, but now the present was a blaring red sign that said, you are not happy, why are you here, the decisions you have made in your life is wrong.

But here is another aspect of life that brings me some relief and some trepidation. To some degree, you can't control how you feel. Your body doesn't like being under stress and I knew from experience that eventually my feelings will change. I will feel differently. This pain will be a memory, a distorted one at that, and I will move forward with my life. This thought makes me sad though even now. Because I have realized that the thing I want from this experience most of all is significance. I want my year abroad to be significant and a part of me that shows. I don't want to move on or past this experience. I don't want it to fade away. I want it to remain alive, because this experience brought me a lot of joy. So that is my next endeavor. To keep this experience alive, I'm just not entirely sure how. I used to be someone who always had an answer, even if I didn't "know", I had an educated guess. I don't have any answers or any clue how to move forward. I feel lost and conflicted. I suppose that is what life is about, struggle.

So despite all of my moodiness, my last week has been very busy. The day after I came home, my father, sisters, my sister's roommate, and I went downtown to watch the World Cup USA-Belgium match. One of the streets downtown had been closed off and three large screens were put in view of the street so people could watch. As we walked around downtown (my dad works there), I was surprised that I actually found the buildings downtown pretty. Sure they were more spread apart but there were a lot of interesting architectural buildings and beautiful parks and everything that I could have found in Oxford. I was mainly surprised because I thought Europe would have ruined my sense of architectural beauty in the US. We are a young country. I fully acknowledge that and Oxford is a beautiful city, but as I walked down the city street towards the game, I couldn't help but think, my home town is beautiful too. The game itself was a bit of a wash. Not because we lost, football is an exciting sport to watch, but it was too crowded and people were smoking and blowing ash in my face. It was nice to get out, but I didn't enjoy it as much as I would have.

Two days later, my sister and I went to the Vans Warped Tour concert festival for the day to see our long time favourite band, Anberlin, perform on their last tour before retiring. It was the first time I had been to Vans but it was lots of fun. There were 7 stages with tons of music of the Rock, Alternative, Indie, Rap, Metal, Electronica genera. We saw lots of great bands and most importantly Anberlin. It has taken me 7 years to see them in concert. I have made many attempts but something has always come up. It was great. I knew all the songs and was in the second row. They sounded as good live as they do in recording. At the end of their set, they went to their booth to sign things and meet people. I raced with my sister to get in line and we got the shirts we had bought earlier signed by the whole band. I also got to shake each of their hands. It was great! We went home a bit after that, a bit worn from the day, but overall it was good.

The next day was the Fourth of July and that was a day of some conflict. I found it difficult to be patriotic when I was missing being in the UK. Once again I would like to stress that I don't necessarily find the UK to be better than or superior to the US. I do like some aspects of the US. I was missing the life I made and the people I met, not the country itself. My family went downtown to watch the fireworks and it was a nice night. The firework show was pretty standard and I enjoyed once again being at a public event. But it did give me time to reflect on what it means to be patriotic. Even I found some of the patriotism a bit over the top. I definitely think that I am more globally oriented. Still it was nice to spend time with family.

The rest of my week was running errands and preparing the many things that I needed to get done this summer. It feels nice to be productive but I also occasionally feel cooped up and can sense myself waiting or just wanting to distract myself for a tomorrow. I still find it difficult to enjoy the day. Fortunately, I have been keeping in touch with some people from the UK and that has made this transition easier. I feel less like I'm losing that life all together and more like it is still there waiting for me, I just hope that I can come back. At the request of some people, I will probably still post to this blog every once in awhile, though my life is likely to be less exciting. Where it was once a way to keep in touch with people in the US, it will now be a life line to the people in the UK who have become my close friends and family. So until next time,

Adventures Await

KH

Ending a Journey

My final week in Oxford was a mix of heart break and joy. Most of the students had left Oxford with only those still suffering from exams around. Of course this also meant that those people who lived in Oxford were still around.  I found myself avoiding being alone at every opportunity, taking the moment to spend time with the friends who still remained. Of course the risk with spending time with those people is only strengthening those bonds and making it even harder to come home.

I don't regret anything about my final week. Rather in growing close to them I was able to live entirely in this one crystallized moment. The week went by quickly. I didn't do much archery, as the arrangement with the university and local club had ended and I had no place to shoot for free. Instead, I hung out with friends, watched shows, and played video games. The stress of the week was getting to me, and my sleep schedule became more erratic and I slept a lot more than normal. This didn't help with the speed at which the week was going by.

At the end of the week, a few archery friends who were still around, finished their last exams and we celebrated together. All of us were on Novice squad. Novice squad was probably the best thing for the archery team. The bonds that we developed by spending so much time practising and competing in a sport we loved, made us very close. Friday evening was particularly hard. There is a point where we all sat in the hall singing songs, holding each other and weeping. I was overcome by not just the fear of never seeing them again, but also a dilemma.

Never had I ever questioned the path that I had decided for myself. Never had I ever felt like I was sacrificing something for my dreams or aspirations. Never had I ever been confronted with the workaholic ambition that has driven me to this point in my life. In this hallway, I looked forward and saw two paths, one in which I continued to go to medical school in the states, only to potentially return to Oxford once I was an established doctor, or one to go to medical school at Oxford and perhaps sacrifice my career potential to recapture my time here in Oxford. Of course both of these decisions would be delayed by a year, and many of the components of the life which had made me so happy here in Oxford, would not be the same in just a years time. The only thing I knew was that I didn't want this experience, this opportunity to fade into memory which is at best unreliable. I didn't want the bonds to fade or to become meaningless in the expanse of my life. As I sat their, holding hands with some of my best friends that I had made, I didn't see how either eventuality would preserve the elements of happiness in my life. No matter what I did, I felt like my joy would be fleeting and my happiness more so. I despised the prospect of starting again and again, rebuilding and losing, rebuilding and losing.

The next day, a large group of RPGsoc came out and celebrated my last weekend in Oxford. We went to the Thirsty Meeples board gaming cafe and played games for much of the afternoon, before heading to a pub for food, a second pub for drinks and finally seeing a movie. I also got to spend the morning at the Ashmolean (crossing off another thing on my list). I was so touched that so many people wanted to come out and play with me. It really confirmed the sense of community that I gained from this year and only served to provide another instance of loss and frustration at the prospect of building a new community for myself.

My final day in Oxford, I spent largely packing. When it came to that evening, I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to lose the remaining time I had left to unconsciousness. So the last night was spent wandering Oxford at night and pretending to be a tourist by taking those touristy photos at night. It was a good way to reflect on my time here and also to take the opportunity to capture Oxford at a time when people were more barren.

Getting little sleep, I left for my flight early this morning and it was not without its tear felt good byes. I figured that I could sleep on the plane and thus was not too bothered by the lack of sleep. But then, travelling is never easy. I had plenty of hassle through every security check point and customs seemed ill equipped to deal with a student who had spent a year abroad moving home. Fortunately I got through everything, but not without being over loaded with baggage fees. I did sleep on the flight, but it was far from restful. Many times during the process I was brought to the brink of tears. I didn't want to leave and travel was already making it hard.

Just as before, I was overcome by the familiarity of travelling in the US and was saddened as I already felt the image of Oxford fade, just a little. Safe to say I am exhausted and that there is little I want to do but sleep. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other. Expect a more extensive reflection once I have had time to process and sleep. To those I have left behind, I can not be anything but grateful for everything I have been given during this process. This has been a journey of a lifetime and I hope that it doesn't grow stale but instead remains an ever present part of myself. Until next time.

Adventures Await

KH

Mourning

I wrote last week that this week would be a week of heart break, but also hopefully celebration. I would say both occurred but there was something to be said about the way I was able to react to it.

I started the week going to what at that time I thought would be my last archery fitness session. I cried the whole way there, overcome by feelings of loss and loneliness, but managed to put everything together before I arrived. It was a small and relatively quiet session and afterwards we went to the bar nearby and had dinner together. Talking more generally about archery as a sport for women. It was during these discussions that I was once again overcome with a loss, particularly a loss for the community and resources associated to archery that I would no longer have access to in the States. Archery has become very special to me and I spent most of the week frustrated at the way in which I would need to start over back home.

I stayed up most of the night that night preparing the final update for role playing society. During this session, everyone got an opportunity to discuss their character and plot that was going on but may not have been relevant to everyone. It is always a bit of a long and wield-y affair, but worthwhile. This became the first of many moments of good bye (but then it turned out I would see a good chunk of these people throughout the week anyway). I was not overtly sad, but rather sombre, and subdued throughout the evening. When I returned to my flat, I spent a few moments, just sitting outside, rationalizing to myself the situation.

Wednesday was yet another fair well ceremony as the final archery social came and went. At this point, however, I had lost the feelings of sadness for one of detached numbness (not good) but I found it difficult to feel. I still enjoyed being around everyone in a way, but I could tell that my perspective had switched.

Thursday was a welcome distraction as I went to visit people I was not saying good bye to yet and just enjoying an afternoon of board games and company. They day flew by to quickly and it was a nice opportunity to hold my head above the water and no longer anticipate my leaving. Of course that evening following my last university archery session, I had to say more good byes and the numbness returned in full.

Friday I made an effort to distract myself yet again and was pleasantly surprised to see most of the role playing society again. I went to a concert to see The Mechanisms, a really interesting band which integrates sci-fi fantasy story telling and music. One of the singers is a member of role playing society and I got to meet him over the last society game. The stories are often twists on old mythologies in a futuristic sci-fi way. It was a great show and I really enjoyed it.

Saturday was about "official" good byes from the college. There was a valedictory service which was all dressed up facade of a good bye that an institution can give. It was short, thankfully, and this allowed me to spend the rest of the evening with a variety of different people, from walking in the park and getting ice cream to spending all night wandering cornmarket just chatting. It seemed that as the week went on, I became more and more capable of distracting myself.

Sunday was my final archery competition in the UK. I shot a Bristol II which is 6 dozen arrows at 60yds, 4 dozen arrows at 50yds and 2 dozen arrows at 40 yds. I was exhausted from the night before and also ended up volunteering to arrive early and set up. But I managed to hold it together throughout the day and shot a fairly good score of 1001/1294. Only 36 of my arrows being outside the 7 ring. I was pleased with myself and given that the competition was small, I very easily acquired a gold medal. Additionally, I shot my third first class score which means that I am eligible to purchase a first class badge demonstrating my ranking as a first class archer. Hopefully this will be coming in the mail soon. As the day wore on, however, I found myself less and less able to present a façade of happy contentment. Rather, I struggled to look anything but exhausted and depressed. The night ended with yet another hard good bye.

The hardest part about this process was not saying good bye to all of the people, what I thought would be the hardest part, but rather about contextualizing this experience within my life. I have spent a year here in the UK and it is still very much present for me. However, I know from past experience, that when the present becomes a memory, it no longer feels as real. Memory distorts itself. I loved this experience as it was in this present moment, but the present is so fleeting that I mourn the loss of its reality. I know that in a month or two this memory will have grown stale, less engaging and I will move on with my life. Hopefully I can keep some of it alive by staying in touch with people, but it will never feel as it did. I mourn the fact that I can never recapture it, that any misguided belief that I could recapture is just that, misguided. Even if I came back here, it wouldn't be the same. People move on, people grow and change. It is both wonderful and also the reason that despite everything, coming back here would not solve the problem. You can't fight change, you can't fight entropy, you can only remember and learn and mourn it.

This week I will remain around Oxford and do those last minute things and say my last minute good bye before returning home. The freight train that is reality is speeding towards me and I feel numb and lost. I try to enjoy what I have left, but I feel less capable of living in the present, than I ever have. I'm sorry that this last blog post is less than enthusiastic or joyful, but it is the real me, as I have always given it. Until next time,

Adventures Await.

KH

Clubbing and Competitions

During this week, I have done my best not to look ahead at the looming end date of my adventure. Though I find myself, largely as I walk home alone from another magnificent night out with friends either through RPGsoc, archery or other, unable to dwell on anything else. I'm pretty sure that it affected my ability to sleep. But there is little more that I can do, but enjoy the time I have left. This week ahead will likely be full of good byes and hopefully, more prominently, celebrations of my time here.

My week began with RPGsoc. It was the last turn before the end of the game and I would say, I had the most fun playing NPCs this turn. It was a bit stressful as a large chunk of the GM team had exams leaving most of the work to only about 3 of us, but through our collective strength, we managed to pull things together and complete the necessary work. I have to say that being a GM for something like the society game is a good exercise of career necessary skills, working on a deadline, getting out a large project, coordinating and problem solving as a team, and coming up with creative solutions. I have found it rewarding for so many reasons and am still glad that I made the decision.

After the game that evening, I went out Goth clubbing with some friends from RPGsoc. I had promised them that I would go the month before and I happily went this evening, though forgetting too late to change my shoes to something more sensible. The night was a fun opportunity to grow closer to fellow member so f RPGsoc, reminding me that I should have gotten more involved sooner. I can only hope that the friends I have made will be able to be maintained as I continue forward with my life in the States.

Wednesday was the day of my last tutorial here in Oxford. It went well and was very similar to all my other tutorials. I am not someone who gets very stressed about tutorials in tutorial and can usually navigate instruction with ease. I appreciated the opportunity to investigate economics from a social side and try something new on for a change. Though I am definitely a scientist...no question about that.

I also got to go to a board game cafe in Oxford with some friends from RPGsoc. It was a really fun experience and reminded me that Gencon is just around the corner and I have a character that I am looking forward to playing. The games also reminded me of my family and the various games that my dad and uncle play on the weekends. With father's day come and past, I just wanted to say that I love my father and that he has been the best role model and care taker a girl could as for. From giant bear hugs to introducing me to gaming and role playing, he has given me everything and more. I hope he had a great father's day and I can't wait to give him a bear hug of my own when I return.

The remainder of my week was preparing for this past weekend, the national tournament of BUCS. During my training, I undid and messed around with a few things, which may not have been the best use of my time but was ultimately necessary. I also fell through a chair and sliced up my leg pretty bad. It is fine now, but not exactly fun. It seemed that for BUCS most of the archery team was going to be a bit bandaged up, as many of us had injuries of one kind or another, which included illness. (I have finally gotten over my cold).

We left for BUCS on friday nights, meaning I had to miss the last GM meeting of the term, and spent the next two nights camping at the fields at Lilleshall. Lilleshall is the training grounds for many of the National teams that go to Olympics and other international competitions, one of the archers on our team spends a lot of time there.  The place is pretty expansive with plenty of fields for various game pitches. A lot of other teams also set up camp sites for the night. I borrowed a lot of my camping gear (as most of my camping gear is in the states), but was happy to help everyone set up. There was something about seeing the circle of tents that reminded me of the camping trips that my family usually goes on every year. I felt a certain amount of joy and nostalgia. It was late on friday and so most of us showered and went to bed to get ready for an early morning the next day.

Unfortunately, I could not sleep. Between the bruising around the scrape on my leg and the hard ground (of which I just could not get comfortable despite having a mat and a sleeping bag, and the chill that set in in the night, I had not hope of getting a good nights sleep. I got up around 6 am and got ready, hoping to overcome this set back and shoot well for the day. The field that we shot on was huge and it is impressive seeing 76 bosses set out in a line across the field. Safe to say there were lots of archers (nearly 300). I set up near the novice ladies side and warmed up and hoped for the best. The shoot was long in the morning, with a lot of delays. During practice I shot really well. I had one end in which one arrow was smack dab in the centre, kiling the X/spider, and a second arrow right beside it in the X....but unfortunately, practice just doesn't count. I was shooting about average for the first distance, but at least it was sunny. The second distance was horrendous. I wanted to shoot so much better and as a team we were slowly dropping in the ranks. It was clear to me that all my pride was likely going to bite me in the ass. We stopped for lunch around 2pm, feeling very exhausted but trying to remain cheery, we continued on with the next two distances. This is when things picked up. I don't know what it was, because the bosses being closer, could not have accounted for it, but I shot much better for the rest of the day. Around 4 pm, it rained, but I was prepared and given how sunny it had been, it wasn't all that bad. It turned out that of the novices, I was the only one that really recovered from the morning. As a result, our team came 5th over all and I also came 5th over all. I was disappointed not to place, but 5th is pretty good. my final score was 1026 which is a new personal best though not what I was hoping for. It will never be what I'm hoping for.

The experienced team did well, despite the injuries and came out first, with Charlie winning 2nd and 1st  (individual and team respectively). So I guess I should be proud for the team. Something I have learned about archery, is that I am a little bit addicted. I will shoot and end and agree with myself that I should stop and take a break, but then as I walk up to the face and see my score, I immediately reconsider either thinking "I can't end on this, I can shoot better than this" or "That was really good, I better shoot again and solidify my technique"...what can I say, I seem to love this sport. We turned in for an early night and I crashed hard sleeping much more peacefully and longer than before.

The next day was a 720, 6 dozen arrows at 70 m (longer than any novice lady has to shoot in any round, everyone shot the same round). At this point, I didn't care about how I did. I just shot and when that happens, I find I shoot well. I got progressively better with each dozen having one really good end in there. Overall the women experienced and novice that remained (49), I cam in 26th. I am kinda proud of that. These rankings were used to pair everyone up for the head to heads which would also be shot at 70 m in ends of 3. Since I was ranked in the top half, my first round was against a lower seed, and ironically, the same fellow novice lady that I had shot with that morning and at BUTTS and next to the day before. You certainly get to know all of the archers from other universities, pretty quickly as you end up seeing them quite a lot. I maintained my rank and won the match, the first head to head that I have ever won! The next round, I was against the 7th seed. This was the first time that I had shot a head to head against someone with a higher seed, I lost the one at the isle of man. I find that when I am the higher rank, I get more nervous, because I feel the pressure to perform and maintain my rank. When I am the lower seed however, the beast of competition comes out and I shoot much better. In fact, in a 3 arrow end at 70 m I shot a 28, two 10s and an 8. I took her to an extra round as a result, but unfortunately, I couldn't repeat the process and still lost. The rest of the day, we watched each of our archers struggle to maintain rank as the weariness of the weekend overcame us. Still it was fun and a nice opportunity to spend time with everyone. We returned back to Oxford getting back late, around 11:30pm.

I really love tournaments. I love the opportunity to shoot with people who love the sport as much as I do. I also like spending time with this team which has grown so close to my heart. No matter how I do, I enjoy getting to be around. This week ahead of me is full of good byes. Good byes that will break my heart. I will be around the following week, but anyone who is here for Uni will likely be going home. With no more tutorials, the only thing I can do is make the most of the time I have left and begin preparations for my flight home. I hope that everyone I have met here knows just how special they have made this experience for me and how much I despise the transient nature of the student life style. I will be back next week, likely heart broken to tell you of all the wonderful moments that I had. Until Next Time.

~KH

PS. Hair from Garden Party

To Cherish

I know it hasn't been long since I blogged, but in an effort to return to the weekend schedule, particularly as this term draws to a close, I am blogging today.

This week from Wednesday was continued depression. I couldn't get myself to do anything, feeling more inspired to lay in bed all day than to do anything of worth with my life. I tried to work out and failed. I had no assignments, so why even bother? I also was a bit ill with a cold that made sleep less peaceful. And I couldn't help but feel a little abandoned. I don't know whether consciously or subconsciously, but others as well as I were drawing away from each other. The recognition that this experience was almost over meant that people were prematurely separating themselves from me (or at least this is how it felt). At the same time, I wondered why I should even bother to engage and I was overcome with this overwhelming feeling that this year wasn't "real" in the sense that it was a dream that I got to enjoy, but I would have to go back and wake up from it. This is of course absurd but I was struggling to find a place for this year in the larger framework of my life. It was stressing me out and making me more wary of any interactions I might have. I felt myself try to disengage.

This friday was the first friday in a long time that I got to go to formal, and all of these fears were made manifest as the individuals that I had spent very little time maintaining connections to were some of my only companions. I felt myself completely disengage and decided to go to bed early. During the week at archery, I was back to my old tricks. Something was wrong and I couldn't figure out how to fix it. I'm a scientist, which means I run tests and after testing all week and making little progress, I was more than adequately frustrated. This is of course after I had been given a new toy for my bow...a more complex stabilization system. There was the voice in the back of my mind that kept saying that I needed to figure out what was wrong because nationals were just around the corner. My perseverance has paid off some as I spent yesterday largely starting again at square one.

Saturday was a bit double booked. I had the Garden Party for archery and the GM meeting for RPGsoc in the evening. Fortunately, I could go to most of former before needing to be at the latter. I was also hired to make flapjacks (of various flavours) for the event and as a result had spent the previous days making some 7 batches of flapjacks. They were as usual a hit and I was really glad that I could contribute. It was really nice spending time with everyone. I had a lot of fun at Garden party and was once again pleased at the opportunity to dress up a bit.

My mood perked up, however, around Sunday. Sunday was the day I finally managed to jog again. Sunday was the day that the weather was amazing and Sunday was the day that I finally made some progress shooting. Of course I have a pretty nasty burn on my back as a consequence (totally forgot to put sunscreen there...ow). That said, I feel myself more ready to jump out of bed and start the day and I am happy. The memories of the time last term when I had sorted through almost everything in my life returned.

I can't say that I am looking forward to going home. I look forward to seeing my family, going to a concert with my sister, going camping, writing medical school applications (ha!), and going to Gencon and seeing another group of people who I don't get to see often enough. I don't look forward to leaving this experience. I don't look forward to saying good bye and I don't look forward to feeling like this experience was nothing more than a dream. I am going to spend the next few weeks working on ways to incorporate this experience, to make it feel more real...expect a happy blog post next week about how I won (or placed) at BUCS outdoors (I'm not cocky at all!). Until Next time.

Adventures Await

KH