I Love to Whistle

I didn't hear my alarm go off this morning. That's alright. I wasn't late for anything. I did miss breakfast but that gave me an excellent excuse to finally try the bakery. I got a pain au chocolat for 95p. Do you need me to tell you how good it was? It was a victory pastry. It was along the lines of I'm going to do this because I can't very well do much else. So I spent the money and ate it as I walked to the examination schools.

I am very aware of the sound of my own footsteps. They've seemed unusually distinct since I arrived. I notice other people's footsteps too but they don't seem as loud or self-conscious. There's only stone to walk on here. No grass. I still wear my big tennis shoes everywhere. It's not like I'm wearing high heels or boots. Just rubber bottomed tennis shoes. They still make quite a click. Especially in the library.

I seem to be that person who's so worried they'll be late for something that they show up unnecessarily early. Then I awkwardly stand around trying to decide if I should just trust myself that that's where I should be or ask someone. And even after asking someone I'm still not sure that it's really right. That's how it was showing up for the international student orientation today.

It's hard to consider myself an international student. It must be because I speak English. I know tons of stuff about England and I know loads of English people but it's still totally different than being in England. It's one thing to have actual knowledge of a place and experiential knowledge of it.

After my international student orientation some of the new people I'd met were milling around...what are you going to do now?...eh...check out books...I'd explained my futile situation to a few people in my normal, chipper manner and was asked "How are you not freaking out?!" Oh, but I am. I've just reached the point after already having my Orange World half pealed, to peal it the rest of the way myself. And I've discovered some very interesting things, now that I take a look at the juices in my hands.

1. I'm not a very good academic. I cannot seem to home in on one thing to do and I cannot bear the idea of spending the majority of my day studying it. As a result, I probably won't go to graduate school.
2. I talk to myself and to books. Today Rawls was telling me that "a person taking part in an institution knows the rules demand of him and the others." Well, yes John! In an ideal world! But not this world! I am still quite unaware of all the rules I should be following!
3. I am interested in what I'm studying but it is not my passion. This was the one invaluable thing I took away from the international student orientation. The "what's expected of you academically" speech involved something about being really passionate about what you're doing and that will get you through the difficult times. I just don't love political theory enough to love Rawls too. I'm sorry Rawls. I don't love you. I have never loved you. I could never learn to love you. From now on, our relationship is purely business. We've made this commitment and we will fulfill it but after that, it's goodbye.
4. Despite the juices on my fingers, I've still got to make the absolute best of this experience because it is still quite the experience, just not the experience I had anticipated.

I can't tell if I'm overreacting or under reacting. But on my walk back from my social science library introduction the sun was shining for the first time since I've been here. I've still got a stupid grin on my face because you know, it's all pretty funny. I'm at Oxford. It's my study abroad. I'm still only pulling cherry jolly ranchers out of the bag. I've been sent on a Herculean task. And things haven't even started yet.