Back to Reality

This blog isn't really supposed to be about England. I have another blog that was supposed to be about that. I haven't really found a real "niche" for this blog yet. Like, it doesn't have an expressed purpose. I sort of fancied it would be full of Bill Bryson-esque witty commentary into life's quirks.


That hasn't happened yet. For lack of witty commentary, I'll just pine about England some more.

As I walk the path of re-integration into Luther and American collegiate life, I can't help but reflect on many aspects of my English experience. I knew it was going to be an experience that was going to affect me forever, but I didn't quite know how I guess. The gradual unveiling of its affects has been a continual discovery.

One of my favorite analogies of last year came from Brandon, who described our whole year as a "dreamworld," apart from reality. Back at Luther, this has hit me in a whole different light. There's no time to go down to London for the weekend, much less Chicago or Minneapolis. Have to study for the LSAT, have to write a senior paper. Daddy isn't dropping $2,000 (£1,000) into my account so I can cavort around France and Italy for a month doing whatever I want. Those wheat thins I bought last night come directly from my bank account. I have homework to do, practicing to do, relationships to sustain. A quantum shift from my life in Nottingham. And it's just, well, weird to get used to that again. It's nice to not have any worries.

As I continually reflect on what it was to be English (and I seem to do it a lot), I've realized that one aspect was an experiment in urban living. Here in Decorah, I'm sort of stuck in the middle of nowhere. No tram, no buses, no Starbucks, nothing like that. And that's okay. Small town living has its charms, and I think it's very conducive to higher education. I mean, hell, what else is there to do besides study? But I guess I'm finding that I miss the city. I love Decorah, don't get me wrong. But there's something missing, namely the vibrancy of urban life. Right in front of me, posted on my desk, I have photos of London, Nottingham, Vienna, Istanbul, and Paris, in that order. All cities. I didn't really notice that until today. Maybe I just miss my jet-setting lifestyle of a year ago. So, I don't know, that's that.

I guess it's fair to say I miss England. But that's been established. The point is, England has become a part of me, in ways I didn't really think would happen. I feel intrinsically tied to it. Maybe it will fade in time. But I hope not.

In completely different news, I went running on Friday morning. I willingly got up at 7:20 AM, put on my athletic shorts, and ran for probably two miles with Klein and Michael. I'm trying to figure out what compels people to torture themselves like this. Maybe all runners are masochists. "Let's wake up after getting too little sleep, run until we feel like throwing up, sweat profusely, get dehydrated, and then go through our day with a false sense that those 2 miles made us exponentially fitter." I felt utterly wretched the duration of our little jog. Probably because I haven't run that far since middle school. Of course, I felt good after I got done. Then I got an explosive headache later that day, which I will blame on the running. The strange thing is, I think I'll keep doing. Maybe I just like inflicting pain on myself, I don't know. In any case, it's really a perverse habit, this running.

I need to study for the LSAT, and let the sweet guitar of Pete Townshend take me to another plane of logical and analytical reasoning. Then I get to go spend some quality time with my trombone and Marco Bordogni. So fun. Later.