(for the record, the intro for this video was inspired by the opening credits of my favorite movie, School of Rock, and I regard it as the best 30 seconds of video I have ever created)
At some point on my train journey to Liverpool, I realized that I was:
Alone
Not Lost
Still Alive
It didn't even feel like I was traveling very far - although, to be fair, I spent more time on trains than I did in Liverpool itself. But I did it - I arranged my own travel and left Worcester by myself. That may not sound like a big deal, but it was to me!
Most of the rest of my time has been spent between Reddit and Netflix on an ordinary school schedule - wake up, eat, class. Eat a few more times. Get outside. Watch Buffy & Angel. Rinse. Repeat. The promise of routine helps keep me sane, but obviously I didn't come all this way to do exactly the same things I do at home.
A couple weekends ago the UMD group went to Stonehenge and the city of Bath. Stonehenge is cool because it's Stonehenge - a tourist mecca. I'm pretty sure England doesn't even count your visit to their country unless you go there. They reenact ritual sacrifices every twenty minutes. And the laser show - did I mention the laser show? You should go sometime.
Wednesday: Educating the Human Brain, followed by Social Constructions of Britain
Thursday: No class
Friday: Biology (all morning)
The whole "having to sit in class for more than one hour" thing is really throwing me off, but I think I'll live.
Anyway, I was sitting in Tuesday afternoon geography listening to the lecturer talk about what makes a place. "Place" as a concept here - a "place" could be your seat at the dining room table just as much as your home town is a "place." He showed us pictures of some of his favorite places, and asked us to think about what some of our favorite places are. I thought about mine:
Duluth, Minnesota
My basement at home
The bike trails back home
All of sudden, it hit me. Harder than anything I had felt on this trip so far.
I was homesick.
I missed Netflix on the worn couches in my basement. I missed the exertion of biking up and down hills. And I missed waking up near the awe-inspiring majesty of Lake Superior.
The feeling soon passed, but I was left considering how "home" had changed over the last year and a half.
Last year, as myself and hundreds of other freshmen settled in to college life, I would occasionally hear someone refer to their dorm or floor as "home." And this was always weird to me. I mean, yeah, it kind of was - it's where we slept and kept our junk. But to me, it was never "home." My room here has a much stronger claim to the term - considering I have my own bathroom and kitchen, and I have to do my own shopping and everything - but it still isn't "home."
Home to me is still the place where I grew up, all the way back across the Atlantic. I know this will eventually change, and that it's starting to change already. But they don't call it "homesick" for nothing.
