Here’s a hot tip for you all. If you want to fly somewhere, do it on a Monday evening and fly Air Canada. It’s an hour before my flight for the first leg of my trip, (Philadelphia to Toronto) and let me tell you, it is dead here in gate D4. I think there’s 4 other passengers for this flight. In fact, the entire terminal is pretty empty, giving the entire place a creepy 28-Days Later feel. I hope Air Canada has zombie insurance.
So. The paper is not in any condition I want to present it in. I spent the better part of last night trying to hone in on my thoughts and my clarify my language and it’s still – STILL!– not good. I truly hate academic writing and I vow here and now I am never doing this again. It’s at the point where all my phrases and language sound the same and I fear that when I present I will be speaking nothing but gibberish, empty phrases that mean nothing to anyone but me and Lacan. "The unconscious is the discourse of the Other." I sound like a wanker. I also go back and forth about my style. Should I be rigid and academic? Or should I be more informal given that I’m talking about a fun (HA! FUN! I hate you, Lacan*) subject with Doctor Who? I’m going to work on the paper during my flight, although I hope to get some sleep once I transfer flights – I stayed up very late last night working on the paper, packing and spazzing out – and I can feel my eyes getting droopy.
Right before I left for the airport, I called my brother for a final farewell. I had bit of a freak out on him "What if the other kids in the UK sandbox don’t like me? What if I go and suck all over the place with this? What if I get pick-pocketed by the Artful Dodger? What if the Queen kicks me out for being a ridiculous Yank?" My brother, god love him, was so awesome and supportive in his answer: "You say, ‘Fuck you, I’m going to Dublin!’ and then you go and have yourself a drink ." Which, yeah, I am.
Still, it didn’t stop me from having a moment of pure terror/excitement once I hung up the phone. I released myself to it sitting down with the cats and letting all my emotions – quite a bit of fear and anxiety, I’m not going to lie – wash over me. It’s all so overwhelming. I’ve wanted to go to the UK for such a long time and I’ve wanted to go to Ireland for about half of my life and to now have it finally happening…well, I don’t quite know what to make of it.
I’m nervous about traveling alone, getting lost, making all of my travel connections, spending too much money. I’m peeved that I’m stupid and waited until the last minute to check with Verizon about my phone and as such, I’m phone-less while I’m over there, which bugs me out.
I know a good deal of this will be taken care of once I actually get there and I’m physically in London – I’ll be able to relax and enjoy myself and the fact that I’ve finally made this journey. I imagine a slight culture shock as I realize I’m not in Kansas anymore and then a feeling of comfort and ease.
*Can you imagine if I had stuck with my original idea of Hegel? I would have slit my wrists by this point. Thank God Lacan is at least readable.
So. The paper is not in any condition I want to present it in. I spent the better part of last night trying to hone in on my thoughts and my clarify my language and it’s still – STILL!– not good. I truly hate academic writing and I vow here and now I am never doing this again. It’s at the point where all my phrases and language sound the same and I fear that when I present I will be speaking nothing but gibberish, empty phrases that mean nothing to anyone but me and Lacan. "The unconscious is the discourse of the Other." I sound like a wanker. I also go back and forth about my style. Should I be rigid and academic? Or should I be more informal given that I’m talking about a fun (HA! FUN! I hate you, Lacan*) subject with Doctor Who? I’m going to work on the paper during my flight, although I hope to get some sleep once I transfer flights – I stayed up very late last night working on the paper, packing and spazzing out – and I can feel my eyes getting droopy.
Right before I left for the airport, I called my brother for a final farewell. I had bit of a freak out on him "What if the other kids in the UK sandbox don’t like me? What if I go and suck all over the place with this? What if I get pick-pocketed by the Artful Dodger? What if the Queen kicks me out for being a ridiculous Yank?" My brother, god love him, was so awesome and supportive in his answer: "You say, ‘Fuck you, I’m going to Dublin!’ and then you go and have yourself a drink ." Which, yeah, I am.
Still, it didn’t stop me from having a moment of pure terror/excitement once I hung up the phone. I released myself to it sitting down with the cats and letting all my emotions – quite a bit of fear and anxiety, I’m not going to lie – wash over me. It’s all so overwhelming. I’ve wanted to go to the UK for such a long time and I’ve wanted to go to Ireland for about half of my life and to now have it finally happening…well, I don’t quite know what to make of it.
I’m nervous about traveling alone, getting lost, making all of my travel connections, spending too much money. I’m peeved that I’m stupid and waited until the last minute to check with Verizon about my phone and as such, I’m phone-less while I’m over there, which bugs me out.
I know a good deal of this will be taken care of once I actually get there and I’m physically in London – I’ll be able to relax and enjoy myself and the fact that I’ve finally made this journey. I imagine a slight culture shock as I realize I’m not in Kansas anymore and then a feeling of comfort and ease.
*Can you imagine if I had stuck with my original idea of Hegel? I would have slit my wrists by this point. Thank God Lacan is at least readable.
Labels: 8K in the UK
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