4 days pt 2

I'm confused by how many cleaners have suddenly appeared in my flat. There was one, then there were three, then four, now six, back down to three...

I'm having a bit of a white person complex right now because the cleaners are all non-English speakers from other countries. Somehow I didn't feel like such a privileged white bitch when my Indian flatmate was the one organizing the cleaning service. *shrink

So after waking early to wait for the Virgin Media guy to come collect the router, and waiting for hours, I finally called and they told me "oh, no one is coming to pick it up. Ooops. Just leave it." Great, thanks guys. There were so many things I could have done this morning had I not been sitting around waiting! I could have slept in!

I managed to get rid of my unwanted clothes and shoes by putting them downstairs in the entry way with a sign saying "FREE CLOTHES size 14 and SHOES size 8-9". They were gone in ten minutes.

Now I just have to survive the walkthrough with the property manager at 3pm. I anticipate a lot of arguing and drama. Hopefully I can either kill him with smiles and kindness, or turn on the, "I'm taller, bigger, and meaner than you," persona. It just depends on how he wants to play this.

Today is stressful. I just want this part of it to be over with as quickly as possible.

4 days pt 1

Waiting for the Virgin Media guys to come take away my internet. In the meantime I have the cleaners in, and one particularly stinky/sweaty guy is cleaning my bathroom. His scent does not inspire confidence but he seems to be taking his time doing details, so....

In the meantime, I am taking photos of stuff so I can determine which clothes I'm carrying down to the donation bin, and which I'm shoving into a bag to give to friends. I was going to donate my bike back to the place I bought it from (they are lovely and fix old bikes to sell at good prices), but luckily an equally tall friend of mine is in need of a bike for a few weeks, so I'm riding down to give it to her today and she's going to donate it for me!

I stupidly asked a friend to keep one of my suitcases at her place so I didn't have to bother carrying it around this weekend, but now I realize I need to put a few things in there. Oops!

I still feel like I have so much to do. I need to make a few phone calls, meet with the property managers for a walkthrough tonight (not looking forward to that), mail some books to a friend who forgot them, move all my stuff to my girl's house for the weekend, and then move it all to my friend's house on Monday, repack once I have the other suitcase, organize a car to Heathrow....

I won't rest until I'm on the plane. Now I just have to take vitamins and get sleep so I don't end up with a cold on my flight... that will hurt.

5 days: My Last Night in Shoreditch

It was a beautiful sunny day. I woke early to get a head start organizing all the bits and bobs involved in moving. At 2:30, the movers came to pick up my boxes, and by 4pm my flatmate had moved out. Suddenly the flat was calm, empty, and a place I didn't mind spending time. I opened the windows to air out the cigarette smell my flatmate left lingering while waiting for my aunt to return my call, hoping I'd get to see her today. But I never managed to get a hold of her, and instead I spent the day throwing out trash, and moving furniture around in preparation for the cleaners and final walkthrough tomorrow.

At 7pm I had to drop off a dress I'd altered for a friend from work, and I went down to a shoreditch bar to meet with the Tent London folks. I do miss working in that office- even though I only worked there for a short time, it was a great place. I had a few drinks, talked about corsetry and moving in with my boyfriend, before heading out into the Shoreditch night. I went to the first chip shop I experienced for my last meat and chips bonanza, and walked through the heart of hipsterland, across the park, and into my crappy little council flat.

I do love it here. But as my friend keeps reminding me, San Francisco will be good. I will be with my boy, with friends, with family, and London is always here waiting for me.

6 days

I am 99% packed. I have some forms to fill out, but all my boxes save one are taped, marked, numbered and ready to go when the shipping company gets here tomorrow. My suitcases are nearly full and there is almost nothing left in this flat that wasn't here to begin with.

It's real. I'm actually moving. It finally dawned on me today when I removed the last colourful bits of "me" from my bedroom and pushed the furniture back into its original place. Suddenly the room looked stark and empty, and no longer felt like home.

I was rereading old blog posts this evening- particularly those written when I first moved to London. I was so sad during that time. I remember the knotted stomach and unbearable loneliness, and my heart sinking the moment I saw the dorm room for the first time. And now I'm sleeping in a room that no longer feels like my own surrounded by boxes and suitcases, again. It's not the same thing, but there are echoes in the experience.

My flatmate is moving out tomorrow. I am glad to see her go because things didn't go as well as I'd hoped- I think we will part ways with the sort of stories about one another in which we call the other one "absolutely insane". Ah well. I'm looking forward to one or two nights alone in the flat before I leave on Saturday morning to go stay with my girlfriend for the weekend. Then on Monday I stay with a dear friend in Camden before waking early to get to Heathrow Tuesday morning. I have so much to do- so many odds and ends to take care of- turning off the utilities, organizing the donation of my bike and clothes, dealing with the property managers and our cleaners, sorting out my bank, my cellphone and internet, trying to fit in a few final goodbyes with friends and family....

I will get it all done of course, but I just feel sad about it all tonight. I will miss so many people and so many things about my time here.

Arrived and Settling In

To think that three days ago I was sitting on a plane, sure that my life was over...

And now I reside in a little town called London. You might have heard of it.

It's only been two days since I arrived and already I feel comfortable in this city. Lost, but comfortable. But when I arrived at Heathrow on Saturday morning I was MISERABLE. If I could add more emphasis to that word I would. I was beyond exhausted but knew I needed to stay up until 9pm to help adjust to the time zone difference. I was so depressed and terrified that the space in my stomach where food would normally go was filled with a giant knot, and more than anything I wanted to turn around and go home once I saw the hole of a room that would be my home for the next year.

But sleep solves most problems. And I woke up to a sunny Sunday morning feeling alive and ready to take on the city around me. I dressed (which was surprisingly saddening since so much of my clothing reminds me of my boyfriend), grabbed a tube map I'd gotten the day previous, and set out to meet my aunt at Kings Cross.

I navigated the usual weekend fiasco on the underground (every weekend some part of several different lines shut down for electrical work, making travel a bit more exciting on your days off), and found myself sitting on an empty train car smiling to myself. "Holy shit," I thought, "I LIVE in London now." Then the doors clunked closed and the metallic ca-chunk of the trains moving distracted me from my thoughts, but didn't wipe the smile from my face.

The first thing I noticed when I arrived at Kings Cross was that I felt a comforting familiarity flow through me. When I was in Cambridge last year I took the train into Kings Cross every day I came to London, and it's one of the few places in this city that I know my way around very well. And when I saw my aunt, I felt like I had a little pocket of family and safety only an hour away.

She and I had breakfast (soft boiled egg and toast for me) before wandering through housewares stores with beautiful over-designed items that I very much want. Looking at all the pretties around me, I realized that making my dorm room feel like a home was going to be a slow, fun process. And in realizing that, the room quite suddenly became more livable. The horrible ill-fitting sheets that came with my bed, the horrible yellow lighting, the nasty blue carpet, the discomfort of the tiny bathroom..... these were no longer problems I couldn't solve. In fact I look forward to solving them.

I spent the evening in our ill-equipped kitchen, chatting it up with my new international flatmates (one of whom is incredibly cool) while sharing a bottle of cheap red wine.

Today was equally exciting because it was Monday! YEAY! Monday meant that I could finally go about getting all those basic things done, like finding a top-up mobile phone to get me around while I price-shop for a good contract phone. And going to my school to finalize my paperwork. And opening up my first London bank account. And buying a SUPER comfy robe to keep me warm in the mornings. And to stare at all the incredible boots in the window of Office on Oxford street. Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod. Hold. Me. Back..... No wait, don't.

I ate lunch in a cafe this afternoon so I could write down some thoughts to share here. I recalled having a dream about shopping for clothes with Dustin Hoffman, and trying to find a good belt and tie for him. Which has nothing to do with anything, but I thought it was funny and wanted to remember it. I also wrote that I wish I could have trusted that I would feel this way when I arrived in London. Upon departure, I was so sure my life was ending; so sure that I would suffer horribly and live a lonely life of sadness for the next three years. Part of me knew that wasn't true, but I was so sad in those last days in SF that it was hard to see beyond that.

I guess I've been writing a lot to sort out my thoughts in these past two days. And looking over the writing now, it seems I end each entry by saying "I am okay," when I feel alright, or brave. Today I ended my last entry by saying, "I am okay. And soon, I will be better than okay- soon I will be good."

Two

Not much to report.

Stressed today. Very busy, too much to do, too many people that I won't get to see before I leave, too much last-minute shit to deal with.

Feeling scattered and manic.

That is all.

Three

All my boxed possessions are being mailed to England tomorrow morning. I will then pack my suitcases (sans stripper heels and fetish boots, which I'm putting into a box for my mom to mail to me later..... which makes me giggle) and I will be mostly ready to board the plane on Friday morning.

Due to Customs procedures I needed to make a list of the contents of each box. My favorite box lists something like this: 2 over-sized art books, 1 wooden foot, 1 wooden hand, 1 wooden moustache, 1 pair sequined hotpants, 2 latex dresses, and 3 corsets. I can't wait for the Customs agents to read it and worry about this girl that they are allowing into their country....

Five and Four

This was an excellent weekend.

For starters, I had The Boy to myself all weekend long (this doesn't happen often, by the way). Saturday's highlights include the purchasing of FANTABULOUS new boots, followed by a cozy nap, which preceded a small goodbye party for me at which I got incredibly drunk. You know I'm drunk when I start saying, "I'm SO drunk" a lot. I'm pretty direct about it, you never have to wonder. And in case you were wondering, I'm a very friendly drunk. VERY friendly.

The Boy got me home safe and sound, and when I drunkenly mentioned that I was starved, he made me pot stickers. Awwwwww! NOM. *zzzzz

Sunday began with sleeping in and lounging, and tasty brunch outside in the sun in Hayes Valley. We headed over to a slick travel store called Flight 001 to grab a few things I needed for my trip, and then hung out at Isotope (the coolest comic store you will ever go to) to say goodbye to our friends that own the store. We then lounged in the sun eating fancy ice cream in Dolores Park with some friends of ours.... the kind of friends that bring an acoustic guitar along in the interest of some half-ironic singing in the park.

The sun was lovely, but we had to cut our park time short because we had been given dual massages as a birthday gift! Yeay! I've never been to a real day spa before, and so it was quite a treat. I am still spacey from the massage. *sigh

Then, post-massage we had nummy foods and finally got to go see Tropic Thunder!

Now, at home. Tired. Feel oily from massage. Hungry for chocolate.

It was a good weekend.

Six

It's my last full Friday stateside.

Today was an okay day, actually. I spent the morning lounging around my boyfriend's house watching Battlestar Galactica (I'm only up to season 2.5) and doing laundry. I had a brief moment of panic when my mother informed me of a snafu in shipping my boxes o' stuff to London, but that was later cleared up.

My ex-room mate took me to see Spring Awakening tonight as a belated birthday and early going-away present. And it was AMAZING. Now, home with The Boy futzing around the house and playing stuff on xbox live.

Seven

Today I worked on repacking the couple of boxes that will be mailed to London in a few days. My mother was there to help me pack- an action that resulted in a series of arguments and general fighting.

Much fun was had by all.

I could use a drink and a good night's sleep.

Eight

I am stressed.

I feel manic. During good moments, I feel excited about the fact that next Sunday I will wake up in a new bed in a new city and will start a new life. But those moments are few today. I would be lying if I said that I was anything but stressed out right now.

Nine

Nine more days left.

It's so strange to think that in less than two weeks my entire life will be utterly changed.

For the most part I am okay about moving. I really am. I have my moments though, and they come quickly, without warning, hitting me hard in the chest at unexpected moments. But I'm learning to let them pass, and trying to focus on the good things.

There are so many good things. The next three years will be amazing and life-changing. I know that. I do.

And as long as I keep my focus where it should be- on making sure I take every opportunity to make these next three years as fabulous as possible- I will have a great time and learn a lot. About a lot of things.

Red for Red

Today my mother bought me my first set of luggage as a belated birthday present. It is red.

On Moving, and the Start of My 23rd Year...

I am almost moved out of my San Francisco apartment. September 1st will mark the beginning of my time surfing couches, and living out of the leather bag I carried with me to London the first time I went. (Hopefully I can skip most of the couches and stay at my boyfriend's place most of the time.)

Packing to move abroad is quite an experience. I've moved many times before, but never like this. I'm getting rid of most of my furniture and a large amount of my belongings. It's freeing to find yourself needing only the things in one or two boxes. I packed a box of books I want to take with me, as well as a box of my knick-knacks and whatnot that have special meaning to me. Other than that, I'm taking only clothes, some of my DVDs, and my sewing machine and computer. And that's it.

Today my room mates gave me a going away gift- they found an adorable change purse (which I will need for all those 1 and 2 pound coins in the UK) and filled it with pound coins they got exchanged for me. "To make sure you start your stay there with a little food and fun money," they said. I will miss my room mates. They are incredibly sweet guys.

I can't believe how fast time is going. September 19th is so close it's disgusting. And yet I'm surprisingly sane through all of this. Perhaps I'm simply in an advanced stage of denial, or maybe I'm finally coming to accept that I've made this decision and I have to see it through. And maybe I'm a little bit excited to start my life over. I think I am still a little sad too- I don't eat much and I can't sleep. But generally, I am okay (albeit a little thinner than usual).

Oh! I turn 23 next Tuesday. I've been so busy with the practical tasks I've had to take care of as I move that my birthday kind of snuck up on me. 23.... That was my dad's lucky number. It has a certain magnetic quality to it. I always knew that my 23rd year was going to be interesting in some way. Who knew, huh? Happy almost birthday to me!

As I am prepping to move, more and more people are talking to me about it. And it seems that everyone has a friend who's in London or in fashion design. I've had so many offers from friends of friends to show me around, or introduce me to other designers. It is very comforting to know that there are friendly people on that side of the pond, eager to meet me. I hope I become enough of a talented designer to make the most of all these new contacts.

The toughest thing I've been dealing with during this whole process is my relationship. Many an evening has been spent with my boy, talking about our future. It hasn't been easy on either of us. But my boyfriend and I have decided to give a long distance relationship a try for the first quarter. I am a little nervous about how well I'll deal with the separation, but I am willing to try it for him. He's been really great through all of my meltdowns, and indecisive drama. Not many guys would stick around through my emotional storms. It reminded me how amazing he is, and I decided to give this whole long distance thing a try.

And now I should return to my regularly scheduled "Throw Everything I Own Into A Box" programming....

It Is Now Official...

I bought my ticket to London today.

It's a shitty flight with a layover, at an awkward time of day. But that's not really what's bothering me...

I mean, I just bought a one-way ticket to another country.

Holy shit.

London Process Update

"This might be the beginning of a funny story," I told my mom on the phone the day I received my acceptance letter from London. "See, I got my letter today.... and they put me in the wrong school."
"The wrong school?!"
"Yep."
Turns out, it wasn't funny at all. Just a little messy. Hopefully it will all be sorted in a few days and I will be sent my new and improved letter of acceptance from CSM.

In the meantime, I am trying to pick out my hall of residence. I've narrowed it down to five possibilities, all of which are out of my price range, and three of which are kinda far away from my school. I think. I'm not sure which branch of CSM I'll be in. Getting information is hard, and I wish I had a contact at the school outside of my admissions advisor who I don't like to bother (she is very kind, but very busy).

Looking over these very basic descriptions of houses, I keep coming back to the scholarship I'm waiting on. I will not know if I got it until April, and I'm trying to not get my hopes up. But it would make this whole housing thing easier because it would pay for my entire tuition. But I need to make housing decisions before then, ideally. It's a little complicated.

And lately, I've been feeling a little sad about moving again. I keep remembering this one day I had in London. It was a little gray out, and I was wandering around picadilly circus area. I was lost (no one's discovered the miracle of clearly labeled street signs in London) and starved. I sat down in a little cafe and ordered a sandwich. I had on five layers and a heavy coat, but the cafe was hot and I was taking off layers as fast as I could when my tasteless sandwich arrived. I stared out of the muggy cafe onto a street full of people. The tables surrounding me were occupied by friends having coffee and an occasional couple. I was the only person there alone, hunched over my food, staring out the window. I became very aware just then of how lonely I felt, spending all my time alone. I was seeing amazing things and having a good time, but I had no one to talk to about it. Getting lost alone is kinda nerve-wracking, but getting lost with someone else is funny. Seeing beautiful things alone made my heart sink into my stomach. I am not as much of a loner as I think I am.

Granted, things would be different if I had a home base within the city. Having nowhere to go that I could just be happily alone made that moment in the cafe much sadder for me. But I worry that London will not feel like home for a while. My little dorm room will not be a home for a while either, in the way I mean. It took me a couple of years and three different apartments before I felt like San Francisco was my home, even though I'd spent a lot of time here, and I had friends, family, and a life already built around the city.

I have a good support structure here, with a few very close friends I can come to when I need some comfort. But there, I will be starting life over, alone, without my support. Yes I can call them, or email them, but not in the same casual manner I can now. I will not have my crazy family nearby, my boyfriend, my friends, my stuff. My habits will have to change, my expectations, my fears of appearing foolish (because I will, a lot)... I will have to go through everything alone, for the first time. It makes my stomach hurt, thinking about it. I wish I could just take one person with me, to share the city with. I wish I could transport aspects of my life over to London. Just stick my best friend and my favorite cafe in a handbag and get on the plane. I'd feel much happier.

Speaking of the plane, I've been trying to decide how to deal with that. Who will drop me off at the airport on the day I leave? Who will wave goodbye and make me cry the least? Or should I just go alone and get it over with? I dread that day. Arrival in London, a few weeks in, school starting.... these are all things I'm terribly nervous about, but I dread the day I have to fly out from SFO. I tear up just thinking about it.

I haven't slept well in two weeks because I'm worried about the move. I'm worried about the loneliness, really. Giving up half of my stuff is not a problem. Starting life in a new city is exciting. Going to CSM is terrifying and exciting. But doing it all by myself, thousands of miles away from everyone and everything I know and love is tainting the situation for me. I am not looking forward to it at all, right now.

My friends are all so proud of me. They like to show me off, and tell people how I got into the greatest school ever. They like to parade me around a little. I put on a decent show, but it kinda irks me. I'm touched that everyone else is happy for me, but they aren't the ones who have to actually do all the hard parts. They get to stay where they are, safe and warm, and smile at the idea of studying abroad. It's a romantic notion. It's a scary reality. Their lives will be the same, minus me. And for many of them, that will not be a huge difference, just an occasional Me-shaped emptiness that passes by them. I'm the one that will be going through one of the most difficult school programs in the world (which I am not ready for, in my opinion), alone and kind of lost.

I will make new friends. I talk easily. I will find new favorite cafes and bars. I will get to know the transit lines, and the cheapest food stores, and the ways in which British culture will accept my strange quirks. I will come to understand social expectations, and cultural taboos, and ways to walk the edges of sub cultures, the way I do here. I know boundaries here, and I know when I cross them, or what sort of statement I make, and confusion I cause with my appearance or my actions. Before I attempt to cross any lines and make my own place in the world, I need to learn where the lines are. We speak a similar language, but it is not the same. Our cultures are similar, but it is a different world. I AM moving to a FOREIGN country.

What it comes down to is that I am scared of being lonely. I do not trust my own judgement, or decisions. I worry I am making mistakes every step of the way until I get where I'm going. I am a harsh, harsh self-critic, and it takes other's presence for me to allow myself the freedom to fuck up. I used to think I was a loner, but I realize now that I need people around me to feel safe. I like my own, quiet time, but to have it forced upon me....

I am just scared.

Goodbye, Mom

I just got off the phone with my mom, and realized for the first time that I will really truly miss her when I leave. We have had our differences, but she is my mom, and she loves me unconditionally. She is really happy for me, and very proud of me, and even a little jealous, but by next fall, she will be half way around the world, eight hours apart, and living on a separate land mass from me.

I keep thinking about London as though my life, my favorite people, and my apartment will be transplanted there with only minor changes. It's slowly sinking in that I not only have eight months left with my boyfriend and my friends, but also with my family. And I realized that I will arrive in London alone, find my way to CSM alone, and sleep there alone in my little room while I try and create a new life for myself in a place where I know almost no one. And I know I will build a life there, but it will take time. And there will be things I will love, and things I will hate, just like here. I will find some people that I like, and some that I despise, and some that I will laugh at. But it will take time.

I suppose tonight is the first time I really understood that I will be starting over, and truly alone for the first time in my life.

Suddenly I realize how short eight months is....

UK Yankee

I found this forum called UK Yankee the other day, geared specifically towards US expatriotes living in the UK.

I made the mistake of reading the thread about all the things people miss about the US now that they've moved. I felt a little sad for the rest of the day. But today I found a new 19 page thread about the things people love about their new lives in the UK.... and it made me feel a lot better about leaving.

I've bookmarked the Good Things thread, and read a few postings every day to remind myself that it will all be okay.

Excitement

Two or three weeks ago, I began noticing a tiny hint of happiness peeking through my otherwise abysmal outlook on life. It seemed the shock and sadness about moving to London began to lift, and these days I am not lying when I tell people I am excited to be going.

I am actually excited to be going.

During my last few days traveling about London, I stopped feeling like a tourist, and began allowing myself to pass by certain things I wanted to see. It felt like I already lived in the city, and I felt confident I would be able to see everything at another time. I was sure I'd move there and be happy. Lately I've been able to recall that sense, and remind myself that I was happy there. I was inspired there. I was fucking freezing there too, but that's nothing a few sweaters won't fix. I have gotten stuck in a rut here in San Francisco. I love this city, and I love my friends, but I am bored. And I need to do something differently for a while. One of my New Years resolutions was to shake things up, and have new experiences. I think I can safely say that 2008 will hold a lot of opportunities to do that....

A friend of mine here is moving to New York in a few months. We've been discussing how strange it is to buy a one-way ticket somewhere. Neither one of us has ever done it before, and something about it feels empowering and saddening at the same time. It's just so definite. So final. It means you've made a decision and will follow it through, alone. It's your next move and you've committed to it.

Right now, I'm in the midst of applying for a scholarship that would pay for one full year of my tuition at CSM, and maybe ever more. The deadline in Feb 1st, and I'm scrambling to get all the paperwork in. My current school has to recommend me, and they will do so if I get all my paperwork in to them in the next week or so. I'll be the first student from the San Francisco campus to be recommended for this scholarship. It sounds like an honor, but really it's just another way that my school ignores the SF campus in favor of the publicity-abound LA campus. Grr Hiss Boo.

I will keep you updated.

Context

I think a little background information is in order:

It's been about a year since I first thought about how glamorous it sounded "studying abroad". But it all happened very quickly. In October, I visited England. A few weeks ago, my long-term boyfriend and I flew to L.A. where I presented my portfolio to two of the finest fashion schools in the world, and I was invited to attend Central St. Martins. In case you live outside of the design and art world, and have no idea what that means, it's a very, very big deal, and an honor I was not expecting.

I was not prepared to be invited to CSM, so I never visited the college, and never planned for the possibility. But here I am, and the decision has sort of been made for me. I have to go to London, now. This would be the opportunity I'd kick myself for passing up, if I let it go.

Now, the biggest deal: my boyfriend cannot come with me. It breaks my heart every day. It scares the living crap out of me, too. But I couldn't ask him to move, even if he wanted to. He has an amazing career, and a 7-year old daughter here. I am afraid of leaving everything and everyone I know behind, but I'm more terrified of facing a new country entirely alone without him. I am excited by it, too, though. It will be my first opportunity to stand alone, and figure myself out. I've always had someone to lean on for backup, and I am hoping this experience will help me finally grow up. And if the boy and I are meant to be together, we'll see how things work out when I come back. I sound brave when I say that, but really, I'm going to be a wreck as the actual moving approaches. I've had dreams about how hard it will be to get on the plane and leave him here. I'm one scared little girl, lemme tell ya.

All of my friends are excited for me. I keep meeting them for coffee so they can remind me why I should be thrilled. But I worry. And some part of me knows that this knot in my stomach wont relax until I've been in London for a while, and have settled in, learned my way around, made one friend. I hate the process of moving, and this will be the biggest move I've made. I will have to sell a lot of my stuff. I won't have any furniture that I can bring with me. My comfy bed will stay here. (I wonder if I can get new power cords for my sewing machine etc to fit the UK sockets...hmm.) And worst/best of all, I will have to spend some time figuring out where everything is again. Hm, I need hairdye, where the hell do I go? Food... where's the cheapest store? What's the comfiest coffee shop around? I've lived in San Francisco for about 4 years, but I have a very good sense of the place. How long it will take in a cab to get from one place to another; the easiest route to take when getting home from any place; the spots that are open late; the best pie in town. I will miss the comfort of all that. I will be fine once I'm in London. It's just hard facing all the steps between here and there.

Also, I won't lie: I am NOT looking forward to being a starving student. I am not well off, but I'm better off than some of my peers in school. I have a TV, a carpet on my floor, a good collection of books and movies I began collecting a few years ago. I have my own sewing machine and serger. And I have been found guilty of buying shoes instead of food. But I've never been in the position where I have to eat top ramen for weeks. When I get close to that, my boyfriend usually buys me some food (he's good like that). But once I move to the UK, I will be very poor. Not to sound like a terrible person or anything, but I do not do well when I'm poor. I get very self concious about it. I feel very sorry for myself, I'm afraid. And I have developed a taste for decadent experiences. I wonder how much of that is the fact that I have adult friends who live the lifestyle I want. Maybe being around other poor students won't make me so afraid of being poor. But, awful though I may be, I hope I can find people to remind me that it's okay to be a student and live like a student, on those days when I start to feel cranky and lonely.

So that about catches us up, I think. I am trying to be as honest as I can about my feelings about this move, right now. I have to finish about 6 months of school to get my Associates Degree in Fashion Design here in the states, and then my birthday will hit next fall. After which, I will head off to a rather lonely time, as I try and find my footing in the UK. I just now realized this will be my last holiday season here for a while. And, I missed my last Halloween. Aw man....