The Library

In general, the library at Lancaster University isn’t a very comfortable place. Still, I spend many hours a week here, in various corners of the building which seem that day to be most inviting and intellectually stimulating. In fact, finding the right place to work is the most important part of the entire library experience, as the wrong atmosphere can prove altogether detrimental to the day’s ultimate productivity. I’ve often changed locations more than once in an effort to find the perfect spot. Just today I switched the chair in my cubicle with one of greater height and softer cushion. It made all the difference. I spend a good deal of time wandering around the floors, scanning the area for open tables and desks. The third floor is my favourite. A suitable seat shouldn’t be too near a window, since it’s generally most freezing there and the brightness is distracting. Also, the right spot should be a reasonable distance from other students. Sitting in a cubicle directly next to or across from another person is out of the question, since every small movement, every shuffle of paper, and every sniffle is magnified through the thin partitions. When I wrote my 15-page research paper I camped out with my textbooks and my laptop at a large table nestled in the Yellow Zone, Religion section of the third floor. The lighting was dim, the area far enough from the main quarter of the library to be soothingly calm. When I wrote my English 202 essay, the Yellow Zone table was taken by a group of students, so I searched and discovered an empty cubicle that sidled up to a wall and backed up to another cubicle where I stored by backpack and coat. There I typed furiously for two days, analyzing the poetry of Donne and Wroth. This is also where I ate my lunch. There is nothing worse than the rumbling of an empty stomach to disrupt the flow of an essay. So, I make my lunch every morning, and even sometimes the previous night, before a trip to the library. I’ve got Tupperware so my sandwich doesn’t get squished, and I generally pack brain food like apples and carrots and nuts. Sometimes I stop at the Central store on my walk and grab a soda for a caffeine boost or a piece of chocolate as a treat. Then, when I get hungry, I just whip out my lunch and keep on going. This is entirely illegal in a library where signs are posted on every wall and table about the prohibition on food and drink, but it’s this breaking of the rules that makes my ham sandwich taste better than ever. It’s pretty fabulous, in my opinion.
As I’m typing this and realizing just how much I plan for and ultimately enjoy my ventures to the library, I’m starting to think that this all might be a little… weird. Are you thinking, as you’re reading, that I’m totally insane? This is just what works for me, and I am happy to say that I’ve managed to settle into a routine here at Lancaster University in England, however modest or dull. I look forward to the feeling of accomplishment I get when I’ve spent a day working hard in the library. It means that I can spend my night making a delicious dinner to eat with my flatmates in the kitchen or watching episodes of Lost on my computer with Caroline. Sometimes I’m sensitive about my library routine, since I don’t think many other students here or at Gettysburg so enjoy this sort of regular practice like I do, and may even look down on people like me. But this—the library trips, the studying, the planning—it’s all a part of me that I can’t deny. This journal entry serves as a sort of declaration of self, a personal proclamation of unapologetic ‘nerdiness.’ The library at Lancaster University now feels comfortable and secure, like home. And that’s all I need right now.

Life at Uni

It’s been a month since I last posted. I can hardly believe that so much time has passed. On the other hand, I’ve been wishing lately that the days might pass more quickly. For the first time I’ve felt a twinge of homesickness here, but I think most of it stems from my reluctance to start tackling the essays I have to write in just a few weeks. The three essays combined equal more than 8,000 words. That’s nearly 30 pages.

So, I’m feeling nostalgic. Lancaster is a university, and college life is pretty much the same no matter where you are in the world—stressful, monotonous, exhausting, and occasionally enlightening. I’m exaggerating…sort of. But I do feel like I’ve been doing more work here than anything else. I’m enjoying what I’m learning, but I get frustrated with the fact that I can’t do what I want; my decisions revolve around whether or not I’ll have enough time to get work done in the library.

A few notable things have happened lately. I haven’t mentioned her before, but I met a Danish girl, Katja, at the first ballroom dancing lesson. She’s a PhD student, and she’s brilliant, personable, and very sweet. Both of us were alone at that first lesson, waiting for people we knew to show up, and I think we sensed how each other’s nervousness at the thought of ballroom dancing alone, and we were drawn together. We have a lot in common, namely our mutual habit of overworking ourselves and stressing out. But really, she’s a great person, and she instantly made me feel comfortable. Recently she and I had tea together in Grizedale College’s café, and she invited me to see a foreign film at the independent movie theatre with her on the 27th. She and I are committed to checking each other, making sure we’re making plenty of time for relaxation and rest. She’s a bit worse than I am, but she’s got a much more difficult, more intense course load to be fair. She’s always talking about being in “the office.” That’s serious stuff.

This past weekend Caroline and I went to London. It was incredible! Really, I had one of the greatest weekends of my life. It was so wonderful to go back to London without having to do the touristy things. Instead, Caroline and I enjoyed the city in the fall for three days, spending most of our time in the Starbucks near our hostel drinking cappuccinos, talking and people-watching for hours. Our hostel was pretty hilarious. It was called The Generator, and its name pretty well describes the place. Apparently there are Generator hostels all over Europe; it’s kind of a big deal. Everything in the 800-bed building was metal—the walls, ceiling, floor, tables, chairs, everything! The hallways were painted in red and blue stripes and the “chill-out” room was full of bean bags, saggy couches and so much cigarette smoke you couldn’t leave the room without a sore throat. The internet was cheap, though, and the free breakfast of toast and cereal was excellent, considering. The first night, I slept no more than two hours total. A bunch of drunken people decided to stand in the hallway and yell, for hours. Finally a man came out of his room and sternly told them to be quiet and go to bed. That was at 5am, and I woke up at 7. What can you do though? It was The Generator. The second night I bought earplugs and slept like a baby. I’ve been using them at Lancaster, too, and the difference is amazing. Why am I just discovering ear plugs now? Anyway, Caroline and I met up with our Brazilian friend Luanna who we met at the residence hall in Chelsea—we had a delicious dinner and saw a terrible movie. (The Departed, in my opinion, is a complete waste of money.) Saturday we spent shopping on Oxford Street and walking down Portobello Rd. through the miles and miles of antique, clothing and fresh fruit and veg stands. That night we had dinner in Covent Garden at a little underground pub called the Bok Bar which served Thai food. It was quite a hidden treasure. Sunday was the travel day from hell. We missed every train we were supposed to take, and a three hour journey took seven in the end. But it was a great weekend, nevertheless, and we nearly cried laughing more times than I can remember.

Tomorrow morning I’m leaving for the Netherlands to visit Kelly. I am so, so excited to see my best friend. Right now I’m experiencing a bit of nervousness about traveling, though, especially after the bad experience Car and I had with trains Sunday, but I know that once I make it to the airport in Amsterdam and see Kelly Ann’s smiling face, I won’t be able to contain my happiness. And I’m seeing the Netherlands! I feel so lucky.

Oh, and the university is holding a fancy Christmas dinner/social just for International students on the 30th. I’m excited! Finally, a chance to dress up! If only I had a nice skirt… I think I can remedy that.

Even when life here gets stressful and I start missing home, I can’t help but love England and the fact that I’m here. Maybe the reason I want to go home is because I can’t wait to see my family and friends and tell them all about my experiences. One day I’ll come back to England and spend days and days in the Lake District, just admiring its breathtaking beauty. One day I’ll come back and visit London and remember places I’ve been before and ride the tube and sit in cafes all day long. One day, hopefully, I’ve have the chance to become more familiar with even more cities and towns in England. There are only 31 days left until I touch American soil again (I will kiss the ground!), and just 31 days until I have to say goodbye to England. But hopefully not forever! Not if I can help it.