So I noticed that it's been over a month since my last blog post.

All I can say is: wow. I can't believe it's been a whole month. That being said, I can't believe I've been an ex-patriot for 5 months. Time has stopped making much sense to me outside of so-and-so is leaving in two days etc. The most frightening acknowledgment of time is that I leave in two weeks. Back to the reality and responsibility of work, school (because who am I kidding when i say I'm "studying abroad"?) family, and relationships that last more than five months. And as my extended vacation draws to a close, I have inevitably been thinking about what my time in London has been worth. Not just because in order to get credit for this semester, I have to write a paper about this, but also because reflection is one of those habits people stumble into when they're about to make a big change in their life.


"The big change" meaning going back to my "normal life." "Normal" being a synonym for "former" rather than an antonym for "weird," because my life is full of weird stuff, like soda addictions, a collection of sock monsters, and a big mess of friends and family that love me unconditionally.

Speaking of family, my brother came for a short visit, or rather, a long lay-over from a much larger trip to Uzbekistan. (I have two siblings. To read about a small experience with my sister, see my "Failing London" post). The first thing my brother said when he arrived at my dorm in Camden was "I'm glad to see this place has so much security," referring to the giant gates, locked buildings, and security guard posted in my building. This comment reminded me so much of how I reacted when I first arrived in London. I thought the streets were dirty, the buildings ugly, and the people rude. I, too, was happy to have so much security in a neighborhood where every business name was an innuendo and every quiet moment destroyed by angry car horns.

The big city is a scary place for someone who grew up in the suburbs of the Midwest.

As life would have it, however, I'm gonna miss this place. Preemptive as it may be, I'm going to miss the fact that I don't need a car to get around. The predictable fashion of Missouri can't stand up to the outrageous stuff people wear on their way to the supermarkets. Obese is the norm back home, as is Walmart, rather than a gradation of shapes and sizes for both people and shops. Same sex and/or multi-racial couples are scandalized in the states, whereas here they're just as common as any other couple, and no one makes a big deal out of it. It's not a statement of a punk-identity for someone to dye their hair pink in London, it's just the whimsical experiment of you're average person, regardless if you're seventeen or seventy. And of course, the drinking age in the US is 21.

Then again, for the last five months I've missed good food, seasons, the other two thirds of my wardrobe, my phone plan, quiet nights, and of course, all the lovely Americans who know me well enough to suggest banana pancakes for dinner or say, "Wanna watch an episode of Buffy?" when I'm in a bad mood. In short, I miss home.

I suppose it's the curse of humanity to always feel like we're missing something. Luckily, it's our blessing to always have something to look forward to. The thing I've taken from this experience in London is that old cliche of appreciating the moment, good or bad, and not trying to manipulate my own emotions just because it's convenient. It's alright to be changed by people and places, and its important to move on.