Welcome back

I finally finished my summer job yesterday. I have tried to refrain from complaining much about it on here, because a) people who know me in person are REALLY tired of hearing about it, I’m sure b) I don’t really think it’s appropriate to publish something that only tells one side of the story in a complaint against an institution that I’m employed at and c) I really still love the museum and a lot of the people there, it was just this particular job that ended up being quite ridiculous.

Anyways. My point is that I am now FREE. My job distracted me from posting (or doing much of anything with my life) but now my blog-cation has officially ended, pets, and I’m going to try my best to go back to posting everyday or at least almost everyday. I certainly have enough inspiration now, as I’m leaving in 11 days.

In other news, my Xbox is now a $150 piece of useless plastic which I will NOT be bringing with me to England. I give up. The world does not want me to play Fable.

One month…

There’s this feeling in the pit of my stomach. A constant gnawing of excitement and fear. My head is in the clouds - rain clouds, this summer - full of scenes, acts and lines. And I play my part in my imagination. Girl meets life.

It keeps me up at night, like a kid on Christmas Eve, too full of anticipation to sleep. I lie on my stomach, hoping that if I sleep this way my stomach won’t remind me  as I try to distract my mind by listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat against my arm. It beats a countdown. 33…32…31…

One month, it says, ringing through my head, swirling my thoughts into a confusion of to do lists, bank drafts, airline tickets and new beginnings.

One month, my heart echoes. To say goodbyes, to share laughs, to eat at favourite restaurants. One month until I decorate a new apartment, explore a new city, meet new people, learn new things. Live.

One month until I leave behind everything I know. But one month until I get to start anew. How do you reconcile the opposite feelings?

Questions

I was fine until I started thinking.

This is a phrase that could sum up my life. I’m fine until I overthink things, turning them over and over in my mind like chewing a piece of gum so long that it disintegrates disgustingly in my mouth (happened to me once… traumatizing, really.)

I was sitting in front of the computer, looking up flights. “Do I want to leave from Ottawa or Montreal?” I asked myself, scrolling through the flight options. I tried to imagine. Sitting in the backseat of the car, two hours to Montreal, the comforting familiarity of Dorval Airport. Or driving the 20 minutes down streets I drive everyday to the Ottawa International Airport. I’ve flown through Montreal everytime I’ve gone to Europe, what would it be like to fly from Ottawa? Surely more convenient?

And then I started thinking.

I started picturing the drive, picturing the departure gate and saying goodbye to my parents. And then I thought, “Oh God. I’m going to leave the country in two months.”

And not just that. I’m leaving for an indefinite amount of time. When I went to Ireland I knew I was coming back in four months. I had a return ticket, I had a job and another two years of university awaiting me here.

The last few months since I found out I had been accepted to grad school, I’ve been living in the present with a very vague idea of some interesting future. First, I was thrilled. Blinded by the newness and excitement of it all, caught up in just saying the words out loud “I’m going to grad school. In England.” Then I was too busy making sure it really could happen, trying to graduate and get the money I needed to go. But none of it was real.

And Tuesday it hit me like a ton of bricks. I started freaking out.

I have no place to live, I don’t know a single person in Newcastle and everyone I love is going to be on the other side of an ocean.

I am excited. Beyond excited. But I’m also half terrified. There’s nothing for me here, no reason for me to stay. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to step outside of this comfort zone - the city I’ve lived my whole life, where I know directions and people and have favourite places. Where I went to school, where I worked, where all of my connections are.

There are so many questions running around in my head. What’s Newcastle like? Will I like my program? Will I be good at my program? How am I going to find a job when it’s over? What am I going to do? Did I make the right choice?

I wish I had a switch to turn off my brain right now, so I would stop overthinking this and let myself enjoy it for what it is - an adventure.

“Two roads diverged in a wood and I - I took the road less travelled by and that has made all the difference.” - Robert Frost

Trail of paper

Last night I started my Visa application.

My life is being overcome by paperwork and things to do. I have to go in for my appointment with my supporting documents a week from Monday. Before then I have to go to the bank and get a letter to prove that I have enough money.

I also applied for OSAP (Ontario Student Assistance Program) to get a student loan with slightly less interest and more forgiveness than my student line of credit. For this I need to provide a copy of my SIN (Social Insurance Number) card. I lost my SIN card about 6 years ago, right after I got it. So this means that I have to go and get myself a new SIN card.

I also left my debit card in the ATM last night and have to go get a new one of those. On top of that I have a doctor’s and dentist appointment later this month to get myself all checked out before going over.

This is after the trail of paperwork from Athabasca to Carleton to Newcastle that was earlier this month to sort out my transcripts and acceptance letter.

And these are only small items on the mile long list that is Things to Do Before I have to Leave IN TWO MONTHS!

The hilarious part of my night was this on my visa application:

Um, please define…?

Unconditional

Wrapped in an embossed dark red folder with a shiny gold sticker was my degree. A little piece of paper that took four years and a fair amount of tears, late nights, phone calls and deadlines. Tucked just behind it was a printout of my final transcript on copy-proof paper.  Four sheets of paper in all, wouldn’t last more than a few seconds in a rainstorm or a shredder or even a new puppy.

The first thing I did when I got home was stick them all on my scanner. Thanking my installation of Acrobat Pro from earlier this year, I quickly pdfed the files. I opened my email and attached them to an email. When you’re an international student, you don’t send paper copies. Thank God for the world of email.

Two days later, I got an email back.

“Congratulations on your unconditional offer to study at Newcastle University.”

Included was the official letter which includes my passport number, the university’s sponsor code and the statement of my tuition fees.

It’s done. They can’t take it back anymore. This (knock on wood) is it. Next, I’ll get my visa. Last night, I was looking for apartments (or I guess I should call them flats now?) After all that happened in the last couple of months, I was afraid that somehow they’d reject me. Maybe they’d made a mistake. Maybe I’d grossly miscalculated my GPA.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am going to the University of Newcastle.

I know this is hardly news but having that letter lifted a huge weight from my shoulders.

It remains to be seen if those four pieces of paper were worth their effort, but they have already proved pretty useful, if only to get me this next more important piece of paper.

This is the first of  many posts about Newcastle, pets. My life is about to get a whole lot more exciting!