It’s a dream, but there’s a real world waiting

Skype me!

Poor blog. I did sort of abandon you (again). In my defence, I also keep a regular journal and travel journal, then there’s my short stories to think about. And Facebook and Twitter and texting and emails… It’s easy to get distracted. I think back to when I used to write as a kid and it seems so much easier without all the technology. Don’t get me wrong, I still typed everything out (though thankfully my early stories, which read as something like a Last of the Mohicans-Friends hybrid – I know, hard to think how that would work, most likely because it didn’t – have long since disappeared into the ether) but I tended to just write for hours and nothing else. So I am blaming the internet for distracting me from my internet journal.

Since my last entry, I descended into finals madness, complete with dreadlocking hair, terrible outfits and the inability to eat and sleep regularly. It was NOT pretty. The effort that students put in at Carolina is inspiring, but honestly, I’m so happy to slump back to UEA and know I only have to go in two days a week. I like the independence of UK education. Fewer contact hours does feel like we’re getting cheated in some ways, but I much prefer getting to structure my own days, choosing what books I’m going to read, what topics I’m going to write about, when my deadlines are going to be. Sometimes at UEA it can feel like I’m drifting into empty space, nothing obstructing me but nothing guiding me. Carolina just felt like a circus. However, I jumped through the last set of hoops and packed up my things, then got on a plane headed to New Orleans.

Where shit gets really crazy. I recommend taking up yoga before you go, so that you can practise your cleansing breath for the moment(s) you think you're about to die.

 I would LOVE to bore you with every single great story from my travels, but I know that this is never fun for anyone else so I will restrain. Instead, have a list of everywhere that I went: New Orleans, LA; Austin, TX; Denver, CO; Park City, UT; San Francisco, CA; Los Angeles, CA; Laguna Niguel, CA; Washington D.C; New York City, NY; Nashville, TN; Memphis, TN; Oxford, MS; Wilmington, NC. If you plan to travel the US or are heading towards any of these places any time soon please feel free to get in touch. If you want to know where to go I’m going to give a big thumbs up to Austin and San Francisco in particular, but on a previous trip I fell in love with Boston, too. If you have lots of money you need to get rid of please take me with you. You would think that after three holidays, a month of travel on Amtrak, and a year of studying and travelling in the US I would never want to see it again, or at least want to go somewhere else. But what can I say? Despite all its craziness, America is a wonderful place to be. Actually, that’s probably BECAUSE of its craziness. (“If U do not pray God will B angry and U will go 2 Hell where U will burn”, for example. What an inviting sign to have outside a church. Snaps for Wilmington!)

It’s funny, during my year abroad I would constantly worry about how I could possibly respond to people’s questions once I returned home. I learned so much, had great experiences, made lifelong friends and was forced to truly stand on my own two mosquito-bitten feet. But it never felt as perfect or as easy as I thought it would. I don’t in any way regret my decisions, but to say that it was the best year of my life would be disingenuous. It was many things – eye-opening, inspiring, life-changing – but it was never easy, not for a single day. How do you explain all that when someone asks, “How was it?”? The truth is, I’ve not needed to. Other returning year abroad students have found the same; once you are home, people are really not massively interested in what you did whilst away from them. On the one hand it’s great, because I don’t need to attempt to explain things that others couldn’t possibly understand. (I don’t say this to be offensive, I just know that prior to my year abroad I could never have appreciated what these situations would be like.)

On the other hand, it is so difficult to be part of group conversations. I don’t want to bore people with year abroad stories, but how do you talk about yourself without ever mentioning the past YEAR of your life? If I talked purely about my life since returning home, it would be restricted purely to my new job at the Iron House restaurant, the millions of cupcakes I baked, and the fact that I’m nearly finished with Couch to 5k. This sounds like a lot, but… It’s not. If I want to mention being back at UEA, it feels a little strange right now because I’ve been on a year abroad. I’m working on my dissertation which I started on my year abroad. My friends Jess and Faye visited Norwich last weekend – I met them on my year abroad. Also, now you mention it, I got a new job because I left Starbucks to go on my year abroad, I started baking cupcakes because I tried so many on my year abroad, and Couch to 5k became highly necessarily after I ate everything in sight on my year abroad. So you see my predicament.

Aside from this, home is very good. The first couple of months were hard, as I tried to adjust to being back but with nothing being the same. Most of my UEA friends have graduated or left Norwich entirely, I live in a different house, and not to mention I am a fourth year. That sounds unbelievably old! But the positives do outweigh the negatives. After such an intensely difficult year at Carolina, I feel relieved to be somewhere familiar. And overall, I would say that I just feel… relaxed. When I left for Carolina about 13 months ago, I was a perfectionist to the end. I worried about everything, from my grades to my weight to other people’s opinions. Once you have failed a module, ceased to fit into your jeans and had everyone around you treat you like crap, a few slots down from perfect does not seem so bad. So long as I’m learning lots, am generally in good health and have a group of people around to eat my cupcakes I know I can and will be happy. Self-actualisation, all for the price of a plane ticket to America!

All that remains for me to say now is… What shall I do with this blog? I’m home now, after all, no longer in the Land of the Free. But I do have a few things still to come, I think. I am, of course, still an American Studies student, and writing a dissertation about the South. I also feel as though my dealings with America are far from over. At this point, I have no idea whether I will pursue American Studies in a postgraduate context or not. I don’t know if I will be able to work or study out there again. I do know that I will keep in touch with the incredible Americans who made me a welcome guest in their country. I will continue to think fondly of my experiences travelling. And take many more trips there again and again. 

"I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance."

During my first year at UEA I took a module called Introduction to American Studies, which covered a large range of topics such as race, gender, religion, youth, etc., applying this to many aspects of American culture ranging from Native Americans to congress to television shows. In short, it got us to consider America's ideologies and the ways in which they influence the country as a whole. America and ideology go hand in hand, evidenced by how easy it is to name its oft-quoted values. What values can I name quickly that I think of as “American”? Freedom. Prosperity. Opportunity. Many other pleasing words. How about “British”? Er, well... I'm struggling – are you?* It's obviously not that Britain is devoid of values, nor that we aren't proud of our culture and heritage. But patriotism isn't quite so encouraged; in fact, announcing that one is proud to be British must almost always be followed with, “But I don't read The Daily Mail or anything!” Britain is tiny, yet our identity isn't as cohesive as America's, at first glance, appears to be.

(* Natasha Ross, UEA Community & Student Rights Officer-elect, via Facebook chat: “Hmm... British values... I have no idea.” I'm not alone!)

Let me first say this: America has always fascinated me, and I have an inexplicable love for a country that I never had an obvious connection to. Despite this, there are aspects of the culture I dislike. I have no idea who to blame for making me this way, but I hate Categories. Many of you have heard the real time, audio version of the rant that is about to appear so feel free to skip if you can't bear another go-round. We love to define other people's identities. We love to say, “That person is a theist/agnostic/atheist. That person is heterosexual/homosexual/bisexual/transsexual. That person is liberal/conservative.” I understand why this is obvious and in some circumstances, useful. But I get bothered by the extent to which people rely on these incredibly broad terms to skip out on appreciating individuality. I don't think it's out of line to suggest that some people look at the Categories before the person, and make judgements based on tick-boxes. Categories are more and more becoming a part of British culture (thanks, Prime Minister), but America is King of the “us/them” rhetoric.

Let's take a look at this:

Of course this is from a movie. Of course it is exaggerated. But I am constantly surprised at the degree to which this can translate to real life, and the way in which some people really and truly believe Categories are a beneficial way to look at others, whether in a comical way like Means Girls or in a way that has more serious repercussions. (Take a look at how Native Americans are still marginalised, particularly twentieth-century efforts towards assimilation. It’s heartbreaking.) At home I'm not sure all of my friends could tell you that I'm an agnostic, or what party I voted for in the last election. Here, I found that my religious/spiritual beliefs come up pretty quickly, and it's the first time I've ever been called “a liberal”. I'm obviously aware that my views can mostly be counted as liberal, but does this make me “a liberal”, an extension to my personality that I did not ask for or seek out? Obviously I can't avoid the association. But it feels like, for all my resistance of being categorised, of being part of a group, I can’t avoid being stereotyped either.

Growing up in England in a mostly white, middle-class town, I can’t say that I have ever been the subject of prejudice. I have never really had to deal with being stereotyped or judged for simply being who I am. (The only exception would be in telling someone I’m a feminist. Feminism is not misandry, it means believing in equal rights, friends.) I think I’ve already hinted at this in my previous posts, but America has been something else. On the whole, Chapel Hill is a great place to visit, and to live, but I was unlucky in the way I was treated at times. Sometimes people were rude to me in class, such as insisting that they couldn’t understand my accent at all. This stung at the time, but I know I’m not alone in that, and other international students have dealt with the same. What’s worse is the fact that some people just cannot get over the fact that I’m foreign. To them, I will never just be a person, or a woman, or a UNC student like them, because I’m foreign and therefore different. I’m sitting on the other side of the “us/them” table.

I know that this is not just America: being an exchange student must be hard wherever you go, and I think people tend to be more dismissive of those that will only be there a short amount of time, and dismissive of those they deem more effort to understand. It takes a certain kind of person to be curious about people from other cultures, and a certain kind of person to see that they’re more similar to you than they are different. Here’s the best part about my hardships in America: my dissertation topic struck me like lightning. I am going to be exploring the idea of empathy. Of course, my actual dissertation will be tailoring this to William Faulkner and Southern culture specifically (anyone get the reference in the title? Just me?), but it’s got me thinking about it more generally, too.

So here are, thus far, some of my thoughts on how empathy functions and what that means for cultural encounters. We grow up with the “us/them” rhetoric, with varying degrees of subtlety. It may be simply that our media is obsessed with the problems of immigration, that our schools naturally form cliques according to religion/race/class, or that we’re never really exposed to people outside of our own sect. Many people grow up believing – or being told by guardians – that others in the world are fundamentally different, incompatible for friendship, and even harmful to be around. Take, for example, if you are someone who is raised as part of religious sect where any non-believers are considered the dangerous “other”. If or when you encounter someone of that sort, your sense of empathy for that person may well be small or non-existent. You can rationalise it that they are not deserving of your kindness or notice because they are different from you, living an immoral lifestyle, fundamentally wrong.

I’m pushing it to an extreme example, but hopefully this process is helpful in considering prejudice, whether for race, religion, sexual orientation, gender, etc. I’m not sure to what extent empathy is natural, and to what extent it is learned. I have always been an empathetic person – I would say uncontrollably so. I’ve grown up writing, which is an activity that demands of you to get inside other people’s heads. (Fun fact: far from being socially strange bookworms, those who read fiction are more likely to have close relationships. Reading develops your ability to empathise with others!) Even when I am angry at someone, I automatically start considering their viewpoint too, wondering how they see a situation differently to me. In some ways, being empathetic is a good thing; I’m probably more reasonable for it. In other ways, it sucks. I take on other people’s emotions as if they’re contagious, and I feel compelled to help people even when they’re not nice to me. Some people view this as a weakness. I agree that I would definitely make a rubbish soldier, but this wimpishness is beneficial for my writing, right?

I seem to have rambled more even than usual, so let’s movie trailer conclude: Categories, assimilation, us/them rhetoric… This forms a cohesive, mainstream identity for a country, which is both wonderful and harmful. You could argue that it brings people together, but it also makes those who do not measure up to the ideal feel inadequate. And as for empathy… It also promotes the idea that there is a “right” way to be, when we’re actually all so individual that it’s impossible. It gives us the excuse to judge those who are different, to deem them unworthy of our empathy (if we are empathetic people in the first place – as far as I know so far, some people barely have the ability at all). As you can probably tell… I’m struggling to write a decent conclusion, partly because all my final papers are on my mind! I may have to return to these ideas later, when my research is further along. In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a much better writer than myself:

“It's so important for us all to be ourselves, warts and all, even though you might be considered a bit odd. We're programmed to conform from a very early age, which restricts us and causes more tensions than it relieves. We're encouraged to suppress the subconscious and beware of imagination because it's destructive to the behaviour codes we've developed. So most people lead fairly boring, monotonous lives and a jester in society becomes quite a privileged figure. But there's a jester in all of us and it should be encouraged.” 

(Probably my favourite non-conformist alive today. Michael Palin interview, Radio Times, 15-21 April 1995, pp 17-20.)

"You've got to think for yourselves! You're all individuals!"

 "... I'm not."

Positive outcomes only!

I thought my most recent entry required a follow up. I realise I sounded rather negative about being out here, and this could be off-putting for anyone planning to go travelling/planning to study abroad/planning to speak to me ever again. Therefore, I thought I would outline the main reasons some parts of the experience sucked, to demonstrate how freakish and unlikely these events were. (If they ever happen to YOU abroad, I will buy you a drink.) Then, hand on my heart and booming out the the Star-Spangled Banner, I will tell you just some of the things that I love.

Things that Sucked At The Time but are Now Told As Party Anecdotes:

a) North Carolina has a lot of bloodthirsty insects. I am allergic to insect bites. Much of my first week here was spent in bed, having feverish nightmares; I was in no way calmed every time I woke up to see my ballooning limbs. I feel somewhat guilty listing this, since two of my family have actually had Malaria, but it was scary!

b) When I say bed, this is a rather loose term... My room came unfurnished, and whilst I waited for a bed to arrive, I slept on a “wafffer-theen” mattress on the floor. When the bed finally arrived two months in, some of the parts were broken. I sent away from more parts, which took another six weeks. These were broken too. Finally I abandoned this whole bed thing and bought a futon on Craigslist, which has been fine except... it's bent and slowly breaking. It's propped up with books and does me fine, but I will probably weep with happiness when I get to sleep in an actual bed again.

c) No one had really explained to me the differences between the American university system vs. the British one. So I picked a combination of classes that didn't work together at all. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say if I had wanted to actually do all of the reading in order to actually do all my assignments/tests with a hint of comprehension, I would have to have my head in books at least six hours a day. Then work on essays. Needless to say, the whole semester was like those nightmares I used to have at the beginning of sixth form, where I had to sit my A-Level exams already. Tellingly, I did have quite a few bad dreams about A-Levels out here...

d) North Carolina law mandates that liquor can only be sold in licensed ABC stores, which are only reachable by car. You want to talk about illegal activity? HOW IS IT NOT A CRIMINAL OFFENSE TO DENY A BRITISH PERSON OF GIN & TONICS? I mean, I made up for it with beer and wine, but it's really not the same.

And now... Things That I Like and Don't Want To Leave:

1. UNC is like a historical town. It has so many beautiful buildings, stretches of green, and random quotes and statues to remind you to study so you will actually amount to something one day.
   
   
2. I can't be offended when people make comments about my accent, because I love Southern accents so much it's probably weird. (“I love your acce-” “I LOVE YOUR ACCENT!”) It hasn't worn off even slightly as time has gone by.
   
   
3. Chapel Hill is considered to be one of the best places in the US for restaurants. It is a bit of a challenge to stay a size 10, but Weaver Street Market helps.
   
   
4. This admittedly does backfire at times, but it's nice not to have to do a whole lot to get anyone's attention. Simply being from England makes me memorable and interesting.
   
   
5. All of the professors I have had at UNC have been incredible academics, and incredible teachers. Not that I don't admire/borderline stalk the faculty of UEA as well, but attending another university has given me a wider perspective on teaching/learning methods. And made me even more sure that I want to be a professor myself.
   
   
6. Carrboro. Running through Carrboro, wandering around aimlessly in Carrboro, spotting raccoons in Carrboro.
   
   
7. Mountains to the West + beaches to the East = surrounded by perfection. Also, this is the best weather I have experienced in my life.
   
   
8. After years of making excuses in order not to have to sit through football/cricket/rugby, I have finally found a sport I do like: basketball. Who would have guessed?
   
   
9. I have made friends out here that I hope never to lose, and that is no small thing.
   
   
10. Everyone has heard of William Faulkner.

It is a balmy 24C outside right now; sadly I am stuck in the library alternating between my dissertation proposal, reading for my classes, studying for a midterm and working on a paper. But I have Rooney to look forward to tomorrow night, and Spring Break is just around the corner.

As always, let me know if you have any questions about what it's like out here and I'll be happy to cover it on this blog!

Hellcats, the TV show that this entry's title comes from. Another thing I will miss once I go back!

The Living is (not so) Easy

It may surprise you to know that, rather than just having forgotten about this blog due to having Super Happy Fun times at UNC, this is the fourth time that I've started an entry since I last posted. There are many topics I want to post about, but getting started has been an issue. I like to write entries that are at least somewhat cohesive and have a clear line of thought. In fact, that's how I like my life to be too. But America has been nothing if not baffling, so I suppose that's why whenever I sat down to write I ended up with a jumble of emotion and poor syntax.

I had a wonderful Winter Break, beginning in Washington DC in which I visited museums, procured new clothes and caught up with old friends. Then I went to Charlotte, NC to spend Christmas with a friend's family, then back to Chapel Hill for the remaining time with a stint in the mountains too. It was relaxing. Several moments brought me back to who I used to be, whether that was in a hostel in the capital, during long conversations about politics or whilst drinking cup after cup of tea. It's strange how I feel so far apart from who I was back in England. It's strange how it all happened. I have a stronger belief in the human capacity for change than most people – that is, I don't think our personalities are as static as most people seem to – and yet I was unprepared for the course my life took out here. I expected America to be fun, and any potential difficulties I simply glossed over in my mind as being things that would “make me stronger”, whatever that means.

It says a lot about our perception of America, I think. If I was going to study abroad somewhere that isn't a Western country, say Japan, or Kenya, everyone would be in agreement that there would be a big culture shock and that it would take some getting used to. Even in the case of another European country, especially if there was a language barrier it would seem like a tough move. America doesn't have those connotations. For all the criticisms Europeans seem to have of the states, we also take it for granted that it would be easy to fit in here, that cultural adjustment would be minor, and that every day would be filled with something outrageously fun. At least, that's what I picked up from my own expectations, and the expectations others have had of me.

I've been in contact with a lot of people from home whilst out here. What's struck me as interesting is that people are surprised when I say I've found it difficult. Logically, it makes sense. I came to a foreign country by myself, with absolutely no one I'd ever met previously in the near vicinity. The majority of people I come into contact with are already established here, not necessarily looking to make new friends. There are similarities in our cultures, of course, but to say it's not different would be just plain wrong. I have interests which can transcend whatever country I happen to be in – books, music, etc – but I have no idea about TV shows we don't get in England, the local sports teams, or anyone they went to high school with. America is so much about what is current, whereas – let's be honest – I am usually a step behind.

I have a theory that if we were to draw up a list of year abroad placements, America would be considered the “easiest” option. (Maybe Australia, too, but it is further away!) In some ways, that makes it much harder. If I was crying over culture shock/homesickness whilst on placement in Jordan, I doubt anyone would question my feelings. That's not to say that America is a more difficult option, because having only lived abroad here, I have no point of comparison. It is to say that it's hard to answer, “What's so hard about it?”

There is such a huge pressure to be loving the lifestyle abroad, but, like a year at home, unhappy times are inevitable. Some weeks I did nothing but study, only instead of feeling satisfied as I do at UEA, I would wish I could have spent the time travelling. I was also easily frustrated with the work I was doing, which doesn't count towards my degree and is completely different to everything I've learnt all my life. Having such a limited amount of time here played right into my tendency to consider (okay, obsess over) “the road not taken”. I thought a lot about what I should have done last semester to make more friends, exactly when and how I should have asked for more help, even right down to whether I should never have tried to do this in the first place. America was supposed to be the time and place in which I made a million new friends, went to a million great parties, aced all of my assignments to reaffirm my own cleverness, worked out all the time because the gyms are free, travelled to all these wonderful places, and in between all that developed the Zen that was lacking from my life at home.

Well... No. But, I will say this: the positive elements appeared much later, and in unexpected forms. I have some excruciating memories from being out here, unhappy and alone and feeling like a social leper. I've definitely had some of the worst experiences of my life. I mentioned earlier the idea that all of this would “make me stronger”; I certainly didn't believe it at first. I went from being someone who was motivated, friendly, creative and positive to the complete opposite: withdrawn, sad and socially uneasy. It wasn't that I thought I would never recover, but I was incredibly ashamed of how, in my eyes, I had failed to achieve anything out here. I couldn't even pat myself on the back that it would all make me a better person some day, because it didn't feel like that at all. It felt like I was ten times weaker.

Now, I wish I could “do a 180” and tell you that it's all changed dramatically since last semester, that I suddenly fit in here, love every day, never feel homesick. This isn't the case. But, it certainly isn't torture to be here any more, and the mystical “make me stronger” idea is actually true. It didn't happen in the way I expected, and it probably isn't outwardly obvious. Being here, against so many things I didn't enjoy, gave me many things in return. It gave me greater compassion towards others; after so much indifference, I know how important kindness is. It gave me the ability to laugh at things I would normally have worried about, because they're inconsequential now. It gave me perspective on my home country and my regular life. It gave me an appreciation for comfort and familiarity. It gave me patience. There are things that it took away from me, too – I definitely am more cautious about doing new things than I ever was before – but I feel sure I will get these back in time, too.

I don't believe bad things automatically make us stronger, but I do believe they change us. We can choose how, though, and I think when the experience has been difficult it can often shape us in a more lasting way. I guess it's the difference between improving your appearance by getting a haircut vs. having a nose job... Okay, bad analogy. But you see what I mean. It's taken me six months to get to this point, but no part of me worries that I shouldn't have done it. I'm more addicted than ever to Southern culture, and I'm sure I will return here again and again. I've had so many experiences I would never have had otherwise, and, whether bad or good at the time, they all make excellent stories. The story of my year abroad as a whole is far from over, so check back soon for the next chapter.

One very beautiful reason to be grateful for this experience. Also surreal, since I spent my youth imagining these mountains in 'Last of the Mohicans' and 'Rip Van Winkle'.