We're up and roaming again.
I'm back, baby. Things are movin' and shakin'. Lots has changed in the interval between here and Oxford. Can you believe it? Can you believe it was roughly five months ago that I was gallivanting around the Ox, eating Noodle Nation and drinking too much ale, and going to tea when I should have been in the Bodleian?
I believe it, thinking about it now. Now it's all late nights in a rather non-descript library, and late mornings in a teeny-tiny, impossibly small single in St. Rita's Hall, which has its own chapel, but no laundry room.
To quote a friend: "You live in a backward land." Love me my Catholic school.
Or, I should say, that is how things were being back here at 'Nova. Because that was my routine whilst composing my Senior Thesis (read: life mistake. Life ass-kicking.) this semester. Get up, go to library, (go on Facebook), write, write, write, schlep several kilotons of books between bibliotheque and bedroom, go to bed. Repeat.
I have finished the senior thesis. For good! I defended on Friday, handed in my (awful) draft, and celebrated with my compadre Julie Morro in true form (a pitcher of sangria, snuggies, and a black-and-white movie appear in this tale which shan't be repeated here.)
But in this period of blogging silence, so much has happened. I can now officially assume the identity of the Roaming Librarian. Having been accepted into all 5 library programs to which I applied, it looks like the stage is set for my performance as heroine of Roaming Librarian (The Musical?). But the question is, where?
UNC, Rutgers, Simmons, Maryland, Drexel.
North Carolina, New Jersey, Boston, Maryland, Philly.
How can I possibly choose?
Well, money, for one thing. Who's gonna fork over that cash, huh? GIMME DAT $$$, is all I'm saying. I guess once I know if there's a fellowship in my future, that'll help me to make a more informed decision (read: that IS where I'm going).
But suddenly next year seems so open and broad. The possibilities are a tad overwhelming (not simply whelming, thanks).
Of course, I need to acknowledge the giant panda in the room: I'm not going back to Oxford. Yes, in folly I did apply. But Oxford was strong in their resistance, sending me not one, but two identical rejection letters in short, curt form. Initially I was distressed and sad, but I realize even if I returned, the Oxford I love, the Oxford I spent time and care and love describing to all of you, is not there. It is tied up in all the people: in Aidan and Conor, in Hunky, in Tyler, in Chelsea, Alex, Phoebe, and Amy, in my tutors and in Julie when she visited, in the IFSA staff. Oxford is the people as much as Oxford is the ancient bastion of education in our world. I can't say I'd be as incandescently happy as I once was all those long months ago if I returned.
Sad. But true. Also, don't miss the part where, besides the lofty rationalization, my pride is stung by being rejected. By an institution I love so much.
('They don't….want me?')
Snap out of it, girl; get over it.
It would have been sweet to write to you all again from The Ox, but it's not meant to be. I am meant to be a librarian. I am also meant to graduate in < 5 weeks. I'm meant to move on now. It's scary and thrilling and totally baffling.
Bring it on! I'm back!