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I miss hugs. Like, really good hugs.

Spine-cracking, all-encompassing, warm-you-up-on-a-cold-day, never-let-go-Jack bear hugs. The kind of hugs most commonly given at arrivals or departures. The kind of hug you want to last forever. The kind where you can bury your face in someone's shoulder and just forget about everything because nothing else matters except the two arms that are wrapped around you.

I miss those. Let's get more of those circulating 'round the planet.

Melancholy Midnight Musings.

This blog entry should be taken with a grain of salt. This is a case study for why I should not be allowed to stay up past midnight listening to iTunes on shuffle. Because when I do, I draw conclusions like these . . .

I don't know why I'm here.

Actually, I should qualify that statement. I know exactly why I'm here. I am here to learn. I am here to travel. I am here to live. I am here to spend four months experiencing life in the English speaking west's most grand and historical city. I am here to give my mind and body a rest. I'm on holiday. I'm doing this because it's good for me.

What I don't understand is why I keep uprooting and abandoning.

This is a common theme with me. I am very much a home-body. I find a niche and settle down and build myself a modest, comfortable little home. From time to time, I leave this home. I'm called on to the next adventure. Maybe it's because I think there's more out there for me. Maybe I just outgrow the home I build for myself. I'm not quite sure. Regardless, I packed up my life and move to a new town, a new state, a new country.

This is really good for me. I am very quick to plant myself and I believe it is in my best interest to savagely rip up my roots and move to the next place every now and then. I know it's good for me. But I don't always like it. It leaves me with the horrible aftertaste of abandonment.

You see, every time I rip up these roots and relocate, I leave people behind. I don't think it really occured to me until I graduated from high school . . . I can't bring those I love with me on all my adventures. I love making new connections, forging new friendships and cementing these ridiculous, co-dependent bonds I seem to be so fond of. But when I pack up and leave, I usually leave them behind.

I know this is how it works. I know they do the same thing. In a perfect world, I'd continue meeting people and I'd just amass everyone and they'd always be with me, though I know that this is never possible. At the same time, that doesn't stop me wanting it. I also feel like this elementary principle of life is something I should have realized long before my high school graduation.

Two weeks ago, I did it again. I packed my bags, grabbed my passport and jetted off to new adventures. Terrifying and wonderful, I’ve plunged in headfirst and have been doing the best I know how. I am in a foreign country. I am not alone by any means. I do have friends here. It’s just different. I just left so much behind and yet there’s so much around me to remind me of all that’s missing. It’s wonderful and awful all at the same time.

The last time I was home (meaning Sudbury home), I realized that I can’t ever go home again. I could tell I was outgrowing the town long ago, but I didn’t think I was outgrowing the people. I fought that one really hard. This last time was the first time that I felt like they’d outgrown me.

Now, what has brought on this melancholy, slightly clichéd blog post, one might ask? I’ve just been thinking. That’s all. What starts it? Anything, really. Someone on the street who looks very familiar, a funny street sign I think someone else would laugh at, a song that pops up on my iTunes shuffle, an extremely expensive phone call back to the states for a fleeting instant of familiar voices, finding old videos in my computer . . . lots of things trigger it.

I think this funk will lift once we have internet in the flat. Then, I’ll be able to Skype and Video chat and take advantage of all those wonderful communication methods the internet lays at my feet. My mood and melancholy will definitely improve with internet. How sad is that? Hello, social commentary.

I’m just being silly. I know it. You know it. It’s OK. I feel that I’m allowed to be silly on occasion.

I spend half my life missing things. I spend the other half of my life loving every second at any given moment. Sometimes, those two things intersect. And that’s OK.

An update of the general sort.

So as I sit here and miserably wait YET AGAIN for this video to upload (y'all better think this video is AMAZING), I thought to myself . . .

Kristin, don't abandon your blog just because the internet hates you. It's not your fault. It's not their fault. It's the internet's fault. Blame the internet. Kill the internet . . .

So, I shall not let blogger.com's lack of video-upload skillz prevent you from hearing epic London stories. That would be foolish.

We have a beautiful flat. And a Tescos 'round the corner. And an abundance of cheap wine at said Tescos. Our first night in the flat was spent drinking and eating chocolate. We've also recently started watching The Tudors, and my deep love of Jonathan Rhys Meyers has been rekindled. I keep taunting Anne Boyeln every tim she comes on the screen cause that bitch is gonna get her head cut off. Clearly the semester bodes well.

Classes are great thusfar. I'm taking a British Art & Architecture course, which is a MAJOR throwback to Newton's Western Civ in high school. I was able to completely follow the first lecture, unlike some of my classmates, which made me feel like perhaps I was concious in western civ more of often then I thought.

Interrelationship is . . . well, you know. Interrelationships is the nine credit monster (or "theatre core" at ICLC, and it's just wonderful. I've made it through two lectures, one walking tour, a show and an author's platform and I'm just so excited to be here and studying theatre and seeing theatre and dear God, it's wonderful.

We saw War Horse on Wednesday. It was stunning. Epic and beautiful and really mind-blowing puppetry. So much goodness. And no, I didn't cry, Unlike some people I know (I'm thinking of one dark-haired stage manager who came to London in the fall of '07 . . .). A bunch of us had good cries and ran into the lead in the tube station. I belong to neither of those bunches.

My internship interview went really well. I'm not quite ready to talk about working at the Finborough yet because I don't want to jinx it, but I'm extremely excited. I start work on Tuesday.

I've been seeing a lot (but not enough) of Becca. Which is amazing. And totally nessecary. And needs to happen more often. Madeline, however, has been eluding me. Cause she's a trollop. Ah well.

This morning I missed out on the National Portrait Gallery because my laundry took 2 HOURS in the wash. Obscene? Yes. I think I did something wrong. So instead I made some lunch, watched the news, and went to the library to check out Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I'm a very happy camper. I'm planning on doing the National Portrait Gallery on Mondoy because I don't have class. That's probably for the best anyway, as I take HOURS in museums. I'm really quite annoying when it comes to galleries. I just stare and stare and stare forever at one piece. It can take me 3 hours to get through one mid-sized exhibition. I think it's best to go alone so I don't piss people off. At least in this instance, as I am dying to go to this museum.

Melancholy musings or reflective narratives with a slight overcast should be done on a much grayer day. No deep thoughts from me for this entry, I'm afraid.

Tonight I'm seeing The Woman In Black on Keeley's suggestion. I'm going to want to kill her later. I don't do scary. Katie told me to man up. Therefore, I am going and sitting next to Katie so I can piss her off throughout the whole thing. She has no idea what I'm capable of. Seriously people, I'm going to piss myself. I don't do scary.




. . . and this internet continues to fail epically. Big surprise. I'll keep trying. Don't worry.

Obamaramarama.

For the third day in a row, London Center internet has failed to upload the grand tour of my flat video onto this blog in the hour that I give it. Therefore, I will journey back tomorrow and give it MORE than an hour, because this video is totally worth it. OK, maybe I only think it's totally worth it, but I shall toil on just the same.

And no, we don't have internet in our flat yet.

I'm seeing my first show tonight! It's at the National. I may piddle. But I won't. But I'll think about it.

Tomorrow's entry (provided my video FINALLY uploads) will involve details on the B&B (my flat), gushings from my first show and profound musings I have deduced from my first week abroad. Will it be deep? Yes. Will it be cliche? Undoubtly. Will it be useful? Probably not.

Oh, and we got a new president yesterday. :-)

Mind the Gap.

I MADE IT!

My journey warrants a much longer blog post, but I am still living in the hotel and mouching off the London Center for internet. Let's just say that my trip involved one cancelled flight, one four hour 5 AM layover in Dublin, an hour at baggage claim and so many unnessecary lift trips in Heathrow. Yesterday was rough. I conked out at 8:30 and slept for almost 12 hours. So beautiful.

Flat hunting has gone remarkably well. We have found a place to live off of Queensway near the Bayswater tube station and will be moving in on Friday. And I will be enlisting the help of 2 other LS grads to help me move. And they don't know it yet. Excellent.

SO! Hotel for a few more days, moving Friday, getting internet (probably in a semi-non-legit manner), battling with INSANE ATM fees (that are really conversion rates, I'm just bitter) and sleeping. A whole lot. Sounds like a plan.

Less that 48 hours. Feelin' the crunch.

It's 2 AM. I don't have enough hours left in the US to accomplish all the things I need to do. Don't let my calm demeanor or the fact that I'm on my fourth "Law & Order" fool you.




I know it's hard to tell, but I'm totally wigging out.

[title of blog]

A little backstory is always nice.

I created this blog because I realized I should have done it long ago. In the past three years, I have moved over a dozen times and I'm about to do it again. This is a big one. I'm going to London for a semester. I've never left the country before (save one rogue trip to Canada), so this is kind of a big deal.

In my idealistic vision of inter-web-communication, I hope this blog spans beyond London. I'm always going to be a wayward traveler in one sense or another, yes? This makes sense.

Also, I had to celebrate the arrival of my new webcam.




I'm sorry it sounds like I cough when I laugh. I'll work on that.