A Rough Week

The past week was orientation and enrollment week, and for me it had two phases.  The first half was filled with confusion as we were given almost no information, and the second half was full of an overwhelming amount of too much information.  Once I get things figured out though, my program should be good.  There are 14 of us in the Master's program, 7 of which are not from England (we have 5 Canadians, some one from Ireland, and me).  We have all of our lecture classes with the Bachelor's physiotherapy students (except our research class which prepares us to write our dissertation), and all of our lab classes is just with our Master's group.  We're basically in class all day everyday, so there is no rest for the weary.  Or extra travel around Europe time :(  We do get a few little breaks here and there for Christmas and Easter and a tiny bit of summer, so I'll still manage to see a few things here or there.

The worst part of the week came when I was shopping.  Normally, one thinks of shopping in Europe as a fun and delightful pastime, but I think that only applies when you have loads of extra time, are not looking for anything in particular, and have no monetary limitations.  None of these conditions, however, applied to my current situation.  I was mainly trying to find navy blue workout pants.  We have to wear them in all of our lab classes.  Nice looking women's workout gear is nonexistent in England (and I do not by any means have high standards on this.  This stuff is BAD).  After a few stores I just gave up and bought horrendous looking sweat pants because I couldn't handle another store.  It was only on the bus ride home I had the brilliant idea of looking in the men's section instead.  Unfortunately I couldn't find the receipt to return the horrendous pants (sorry, trousers), so I'm stuck with them for the year.  Also annoying about shopping in Europe is there are a million little stores.  Again, if you have no time constraints and are just shopping for funsies, not a problem.  But so hard to navigate when you need something very specific and you have no idea what any of the stores are just by there names.

On the plus side, while getting lost trying to shop downtown, I did pass Christ Church College, which is probably Oxford University's most famous college.  It's pretty!

Here is also me eating a very typical British meal:  Kidney Pie and Hash Browns, with some Tea!

Sunday Morning Meanderings

Once I got rest, food and toilet paper, Oxford was looking quite a bit lovelier!  Saturday I spent doing a lot of errands, at least as much as I could.  As an international student, you can’t do almost anything in England without having a bank account and having officially enrolled as a student.  And you can’t even get the bank account until after enrollment.  My program enrollment time wasn’t until Thursday of orientation week, so that’s a week of not being able to do a lot of useful things.  Another downfall of not having officially enrolled yet was no internet access.  Luckily, this is one of the few situations where it pays to be an over planner.  I had researched and planned and printed out so many maps and stores and where I needed to go for various things months ago, so when I got here and had no internet to look up where the closest grocery store was, it wasn’t such a big deal, because I already had a map with it marked.  Others have not been so lucky. 

I am very happy with the grocery store here.  I’m lucky enough to live close to a very large and extremely well stocked store, which isn’t the case for all the dorms on campus, so I am uber grateful about that.  Most pleasing was that there is a large selection of fresh fruits and vegetables, which I was most nervous about before heading over.  Blackberries are huge in England, and are really delicious!  Maybe even as good as Oregon blackberries….  The store has a really large selection of International food too, like Italian, Asian, Indian and even American!  Things like Pop Tarts, peanut butter and Fruit Loops are all there when I start to miss them. 

Sunday morning before church ( I have late church, boo!), I walked around Oxford for a bit, getting to know the area.  I started at my dorm room and walked to the city centre and meandered for a bit.  The architecture is old and gorgeous!  A lot of the buildings were kind of intimidating though, because for the various colleges of Oxford University, if you don’t belong to that particular college, you are not allowed inside the building/courtyard areas.  There are certain colleges that open up some parts for a small fee for a few hours on certain days, but that’s about it!  Even the Bodleian Library has restricted access.  Regardless, the buildings were amazing to look at, and it was fun to explore the city a bit!

One of my favorite things so far about Oxford are the large parks!  There is a huge one right next to my dorm.  It’s this massive green field with some trees scattered about.  It’s so calming to look at, hopefully the weather will be nice enough every once in a while for me to really enjoy the parks!

The Arrival!

So here I am, finally in Oxford!  Arriving was an adventure.  My first leg of the flight was fine, there were some good movies to watch.  My layover in Toronto was uneventful, except that I got to eat ketchup chips, which I love so dearly.  I wanted to sleep the entire leg of the second flight (7 hours from Toronto to London) in order to have enough energy for the upcoming day, but alas it was not to be.  In fact, I think I only managed 2 hours total of the entire 7.  So that was quite miserable, and by the time we landed I was uber tired and had a massive headache.  Rachel picked me up at the airport, having recently become a pro at left-hand driving.  It was so great having someone there to pick me up that I knew!  It was so great getting to see her right away!  The drive to Oxford was super lovely too!  It was so green!!  The first thing that I noticed the instant I stepped off the plane was that it smelled like rain, which for me, having grown up in Oregon, is a very wonderful smell indeed.  So my tiredness and headache were forgotten for a bit.

When we arrived in Oxford, there was some confusion at the accommodation office, because I was actually checking in a day earlier than the allotted check in times.  I had gotten permission beforehand to do this, but somewhere along the line there had been a communication breakdown.  They were still going to let me check in, but not until 8pm with another group of students checking in early.  It was okay at first, because some nice people let me store my luggage in their office at a different location that was not my dorms, and Rachel and I went out to eat some food. 

After eating, Rachel dropped me off to try my luck at a few errands and she headed back to Chippenham.  I then proceeded to find out I couldn’t quite open a bank account yet, and I couldn’t get a phone because I had no bank account.  I did manage however to buy my bedding, and made the trek back to the office that was holding my suitcases.   Unfortunately it started to rain on the walk back, which was only slightly annoying at this point.  It became uber annoying 2 hours later as I waited for my taxi for 8 minutes, to take me to my dorm to check in, soaking all of my suitcases.  The taxi also was unable to drive all the way up to my dorm, because the road was blocked, so I had another 5 minute walk in pouring rain.  By this time ALL of my luggage was absolutely wet, and I think I looked like a drowned rat. 

I did manage to get checked in though.  By the time I got to my room, I basically just made my bed, took a shower and crashed.  I was starving, but all I had for dinner was some ginger candy from Jennica.  I also had no toilet paper, which is quite a trial.  I perhaps wasn’t in the best mood by the time my head hit the pillow, but I did manage to sleep (even with the window open, in an attempt to dry off my suitcases, but that attempt didn’t go so well since it was still raining outside, and only let in cold air into the room). 

My dorm room is small, and I did have a moment while looking around where I thought “I am a few months shy of being 30.  Don’t I deserve more from life than this?”  I’ve been spoiled the past 10 years of living in real apartments instead of dorm rooms, and have gotten used to a bit of comfort.  Alas.  The bathroom/shower will probably be the hardest to get used to.  The kitchen is nice though, and really large.  And so far almost none of my other flatmates have even touched it, so I might really luck out with that.

Three Hour Tour

Unfortunately, this post has nothing to do with Gilligan's Island.  I was going to title the post "Three Year Detour", which actually describes what I am going to talk about, but it just sounded so much like Three Hour Tour that I couldn't resist.

So.  My Three Year Detour.  As I sit at the cusp of my departure from Palo Alto, I pondered for a bit the events that brought me to the area.  A little over three years ago, I "B-minused" out of grad school (they do things a little differently in Boston, turns out.  Who knew a B- was a failing grade?).  I was unable to juggle acute Traumatic Brain Injury and graduate school at the same time, and had to leave.  For the first time in my life I was left without a plan for my life.  I am the sort of person that will plan their life out 10 years in advance, but in that moment I had nothing.  I had no idea where I was going to go or what I was going to do.  I had worked for so long for something I thought was good and right, only to see it swiftly taken away from me.  In that moment I got a Priesthood Blessing from my home teacher, and in the blessing, God said that as I bear my testimony, holding on to the things that I know to be true, and take a step into the dark, light will follow me.  The blessing also said that we often cannot see God's plan as it is unfolding around us, but I should know that God does indeed have a specific plan for me.  So with those words in mind, I followed the prompting I had to move to Palo Alto, a place where I didn't know anyone and at the time that I moved did not have a job.  But I trusted God, that He knew what He was doing and He would make things all right.

Three years later, at the brink of leaving, I've looked back over my time and learned a few things about why God wanted me out here.  First and foremost, I have found that there were people here in this area that God wanted me to help.  There were people who told me specifically that I came into their lives at the exact right moment and gave them the exact help that they needed.  There are moments where I felt that someone needed a little extra support, or friendship, or love, and that God had brought me here at this time to help these people.  Secondly, I have definitely discovered that there are things that I have experienced here and things that I have learned about myself, about other people, and about God, that I couldn't have learned in any other place, and I know that I will be eternally blessed because of it.

The funny thing I realized while thinking about where I was at in life when I moved here compared to now as I am leaving, God is putting me back in almost the exact same position that He took me out of.  When I left Boston, I had two years left of graduate school before becoming a physical therapist.  Now, I am also two years of graduate school away from becoming a physical therapist.  But this time my location is WAY better, my program more tailored to where I want to focus my career and where I want to end up, and my school works hand in hand with a program in Italy.  So in other words, my current life situation is similar to what I left behind, but ONE BAZILLION time better!  It turns out when God tells you "Hang on a sec, I need you to do something for me..." and we follow through, God know how to show His gratitude!  When we do anything God commands, He blesses abundantly.

I know that as we strive to commune more with God and listen daily to the Spirit, He can guide us and lead us to the exact things we can do to help those around us, and He can teach us the exact lessons that we need at this moment in our life.  And as we do His will, He blesses in every instant.  While it was hard for me to understand why I was coming to Palo Alto, I am grateful that I came, that I took a 3 year time out from my life plans to work hand in hand with God.  It turns out that as we make our way along our journey of life, when God is in charge of the detours, it makes for a much more scenic route on the road to the Promised Land, a route that we will be forever grateful we decided to tread.

Good Enough

This last week I was in a great Relief Society lesson.  At one point, the conversion of Saul/Paul was brought up, and some comments were made that really changed my was of looking at that story.  I think most people are familiar with the story of Paul in the New Testament, a guy intent on persecuting all Christians until one fateful day on the road to Damascus when the Savior appeared to him and he completely turned his life around.

So often when we think of Paul of the New Testament, all we see or think of is all of the scriptures he wrote, or the innumerable amount of people who joined the church because of him, or any other of the many miraculous things he accomplished.  We forget so easily who this man was before, his character and his life plans in the very instant the Savior decided to appear to him.  Paul himself talks of what he was in Acts 22, describing himself as persecuting  all Christians, throwing people in jail, beating them, and even consenting to the death of an Apostle.  He was actively fighting against Christ and His church.

And it was then, on his way to go persecute even more people, that the Savior came to Saul.  Saul probably even mentioned to the Savior something akin to "BTW, maybe you forgot, but I'm not a very good dude.  I've been doing a lot of mean things to your followers....did you want to reconsider this mercy that you're extending to me?  I am the least deserving of all".  I'm sure the Savior gave Saul/Paul a loving smile, and replied with something like:  "Oh Paul.  My Son.  You can't even possibly imagine how much I love you.  You know what?  You're not making the best choices you could be right now.  But that's all right.  I know you, and I know that you are better than that.  You can change your ways, you can have such a positive influence on so many people, you can do so much good with your life.  You can repent, and I will absolutely forgive you."

How often do we look at ourselves and think "I've messed up too much.  I'm not as good as so-and-so.  I make too many mistakes.  God cannot love me.  God would rather have other people help Him out in His work.  I shouldn't bother starting to be better now, I can't make up for the wrongs I have already done."  That is the exact opposite of what God is thinking!  We are a beloved son or daughter of God.  He knows us individually, all of us.  He knows our strengths, he know our weaknesses.  He knows where we have been, and he knows what we are capable of, even when we cannot even begin to comprehend it.  Look at the story of Alma in the Book of Mormon, where he and his friends were described as the vilest of sinners.  Now, I don't know about you, but that seems like a pretty bad place to be at.  And yet, that's exactly the state that these people were in when God intervened.  He didn't cast them off, He reached out in mercy,  He reminded them that there is a better way.  These "vilest of sinners" became some of the most amazing men in the Book of Mormon, Alma himself becoming a prophet later in his life.

Who are we to judge ourselves on our current sins and weaknesses?  Who are we to tell the God of all living, the Father and Creator of us all, the one who has all knowledge and all wisdom, that He is wrong about us?  When all is said and done, I'm pretty sure God knows what he's doing.  So we should probably trust Him when He says He loves us and knows how to help us achieve peace and happiness.  He can take the Saul parts of our lives and turn them into Paul parts, and show us an extraordinary outpouring of love while doing so, if only we let Him.

A Retraction/An Apology

After hearing a few reactions to my last couple posts, especially from my mother who was trying to organize an emergency intervention for her "severely depressed" daughter, I decided to make a retraction/apology.  So here it goes.  It turns out, I am not severely depressed, so sorry for any confusion caused by my recent blogging.  What actually happened is this:  my personality is an interesting mixture of a love of complaining (despite not having anything real to actually complain about), a flare for the dramatic (mostly because I grew up reading and love interesting plot twists, however my real life is mostly uber boring so I often become overdramatic just for funsies), an over-enlarged ego (read:  when I make a statement regarding brain damage and feeling inferior, what I am actually saying is that everyone else has brain damage if they can't see how incredibly awesome I am), and last but not least, a slight disregard for telling the truth (don't ask why, I've always had that trait, even as a child.  It's a useful trait when needing to cheat at board games, which was a favorite pastime when I was younger, so maybe that's why it's so second nature now....)

I think growing up as a very shy, introverted, quite and boring child, I found that in order for anyone to listen to what I said, I had to make it interesting.  So I learned to embellish a little.  And in my defense, back in the day for the first year I had this blog when all I did was write boring things, I averaged 5ish readers.  Now that I've developed the habit of being a bit dramatic (which is much more fun to write), I average around 60 readers.  So maybe it's not all true, but I hope it's fun to read at least...

That's not to say of course that the fodder for my posts is not based in truth.  I did spend an entire night awake, angry at a roommate who brought in boys to build a bed way past my bedtime.  I did feel a twinge of regret at not caring the Bosox are in town this week.  (side note:  anyone who knows and cares about baseball with every fiber of their being will understand that my baseball post, of all posts, was not an understatement, baseball really is that serious).  But if truth be told, I do in no way feel a burden to humanity, or inferior because of "brain damage".  I did not start crying on my bike ride home yesterday.  My iPod didn't even play half of those songs mentioned.  And just because I don't currently have strongish feelings about baseball doesn't mean I don't have any feelings in my life (just ask my suitcases, already packed 3 weeks early...)  But there were a few points I wanted to make, and the literature seemed to flow a bit better with some embellishments.

I apologize that the last two posts happened to be depressing.  I promise to only write posts about butterflys and flowers for the next couple weeks.  And then after that all I will ever write for the next two years will be about the unbelievably wonderful things I'm doing in England and the rest of Europe while continuing to live my freakishly amazing and awesome life.  I hope that clarifies any confusion, and puts an end to any emergency interventions.  Sorry!

Good Times Never Seemed So Good

I was perhaps halfway through my bike ride home when I started sobbing.  It was my iPod's fault really.  It had the brilliant idea to choose, out of all 500 songs on my iPod, "Sweet Caroline", which was probably the straw that broke the camel's back.  I don't think I can pin point an exact feeling behind the sobbing.  In fact, to be honest, I was probably crying more for a lack of feeling.  The Red Sox are in town starting today, playing the Giants.  And no matter how I've tried, I couldn't bring myself to care.

Back in the day I would have moved heaven and earth to go to a Red Sox Game.  Nothing could have stopped me.  No battle too great, no obstacle too tall.  I would have slain any giant for a prized ticket to the happiest event on earth.  But as I sat at the side of the road, I ran through the various excuses I had given myself over the past weeks:  "I have no one to go with!"  Rubbish.  That's as false an excuse as I could ever give myself.  I hate going to games with people.  All they want to do is talk and spoil the beauty of baseball.  "San Francisco is too scary."  I'll admit, I don't like the city, there is a bit of validity to this excuse.  But really, go re-read the first 4 sentences of this paragraph.  Again, rubbish.  "It will hurt too much."  This most likely is true.  It would hurt.  I am a traitor to my cause, and I know every inch of it.  It would be like returning to the crime scene, and every ounce of evidence calling out my guilt.  This little sob fest on the side of the road would be nothing compared to the tears of remorse and shame that I would cry at that baseball stadium if I were there.  But in the great words of Jon Foreman (courtesy of my iPod, who seemed to think the theme of my bike ride home was 'induce depression') "Every lament is a love song".  My tears of pain would only be proof of my love, though once betrayed, forever there.  No, that excuse wasn't the real reason either.

I think my biggest fear was that I would be at the game, and I would feel nothing at all.  That I would find I am too far gone, and there is no redemption left available for me.  I have already squandered any opportunity I had left, I missed my turning point.  Now there is nothing.  I would see the green, and it wouldn't matter.  I would hear the crack of the bat, and my heart wouldn't start racing.  If I were to go to that field and find myself empty, find that my soul had finally deserted me because I spent years ignoring it, I'm not sure I would be able to go on.  Baseball was too much a part of me.  As another song my iPod felt the need to play stated, it is "written in the scars of my heart".  If baseball is taken away from me, there is not enough left.

I have been gone too long, and I cannot seem to find the way back.  "It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song.  You can't believe it, you were always singing along.  It was so easy, and the words so sweet.  You can't remember, you try to feel the beat...." (Regina Spektor.  What can I say, my iPod was on a roll today).  No one I knew is there anymore.  It is all strange names, strange faces.  I don't relate to the dramas of the current season, the fact that teams that were once laughing stocks are now lethal threats, the excitement of certain players or teams doing certain exciting things.  The baseball joys of my innocent youth is gone, and I have grown too tainted, too cynical, too wary.  There is no "maybe next year", hope of spring, suspense of October.  Baseball was my family, my best friends, my teacher, my ally, colleague.  I have spent the past few years of my life slowing closing more and more people out of my life, realizing the pain that comes with relationships and building fences to prevent future damage.  The relationships of baseball seemed to have been lost in that as well.

And yet.

I was packing my suitcases for England yesterday.  I packed my Red Sox blanket, but obviously one needs a blanket in a cold country.  I packed my Red Sox hat, but that's because hats are handy, and you should always have one just in case.  I packed a baseball.  I don't know why.  I'll never use it.  But there it is, in my suitcase.  In the midst of my packing and unpacking and re-organizing, trying to fit in everything I need to take and keep my bags underweight, that item never seems to leave the suitcase.  Forgive me baseball, I didn't know what I was doing.  I didn't know the pain my absence would cause, and the pain from finding it impossible to return.  I suppose when it really comes down to it, I can't survive without baseball in my life. So what have I been doing these past few years?  And how will I continue, knowing the gates are closed on me now?