To say that the morning was a bit hectic might be a bit of an understatement. It actually played out much like a movie. Lindsay & I had tickets for a 956A train to Brighton. We decided to leave our flat at around 915A, fairly leisurely actually. The was probably the first bad choice. Our train was supposed to leave from London Bridge which is about 20 minutes away by tube, so we were cutting it close. We arrived at the LB tube station at about 950A and had to collect our tickets for the train. No surprise: the line was lengthy and we had exactly 5 minutes (maybe less) to collect our tickets and board. At 954A we were at the ticket machine, in the process of collecting our tickets after waiting very impatiently; literally counting the seconds. As soon as our tickets were printed, we ran full force (imagine a girl running in heels across the station… comical, to say the least) to the gate where the train was to leave from. It was still waiting, doors open. I put my ticket through the machine and crossed through and waited for Linds as she frantically tried to find the right ticket to shove through the slot (we were clearly disheveled at this point). She finally made it through and we ran to the train just as the doors were shutting. We maniacally pressed the ‘open door’ button on the train and watched as the travelers sitting ever-so-comfortably inside the cars stared at our faces as they took off. Seriously. Scene out of a movie. We were so close, yet so far. As luck would have it though, there was another train to Brighton leaving at 1015A (a train for which our tickets would work!), so we grabbed some much-needed caffeine and quietly chose our seats on the train. Moral of the story: cutting it close is not fun; 10 extra minutes to get ready means frantically running around town to make it on time.
Brighton Beach
In any case, we made it to Brighton with no plan, no map and no idea of what there was to see or do — the recipe for a perfect day. After picking up a map of the city at the train station, we decided to head to the Brighton Pier and then check out the Lanes — fun, funky little shopping areas to grab vegan cuisine, Native American jewelry or vintage goods. First stop: Brighton Pier for a glimpse of the beach and a taste of California. As luck would have it, it couldn’t have been a more perfect day. A little windy, but the sun was shining and the weather was pretty mild. It actually felt like Santa Cruz during this time of year and for a few hours we felt like we were transported back home! The Pier itself is darling; very much like the boardwalk: carousel, henna tattoos, candy, ice cream, roller coasters, bumper cars, the works!
The Pier
In true Shannon & Lindsay fashion
Needless to say, we spent a good while exploring the pier, enjoying delicious fish & chips (from Harry Ramsden’s… allegedly the best fish & chips in town) and wearing sunglasses because we finally could! It wasn’t quite the same beachy smell as in California, not as salty and sandy, but the wind on the pier was definitely a bit nostalgic.
We crossed through the lanes on our way back to the station, loving all of the fun shops that decorate the streets of Brighton. The town is seriously so cute and so fun! They have the most eclectic selection of shops and very few chains. We saw ONE Pret the entire time we were there! In true beach town fashion, the main shopping thoroughfare is dotted with loads of vegetarian, vegan and organic restaurants and shops… so perfect! It made for the most perfect day trip ever and a second trip in the summer is definitely a must! Out of all of the little towns that I’ve seen (Canterbury, Cambridge, Bristol, Chester, etc.), Brighton tops my list. I may be biased… it may just remind me so much of California (Santa Cruz/Monterey, specifically) that it’s a way for me to feel like I’m home for a bit, but I really doubt I could find someone who doesn’t like this place! It’s definitely a must see for anyone living in London!
Heading to the beach
As a side note, something else that makes Brighton amazing? Street art. Everywhere! Brighton is such a fun, young town that it seems fitting that select streets are covered in art; so cool:
A little Banksy action
Walls like this EVERYWHERE!
Conclusion: Beach towns are universal. Universal and amazing.
Man, I thought Masters applications were cumbersome. Three letters of recommendation. Personal statement. All your transcripts. CV. Etc. Etc. Etc.
PhD apps are looming overhead right now and they put Masters apps to shame. I’ve quietly decided (I’ve kept this hush-hush until this moment) to apply to the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine for my PhD. There are a number of US institutions I have looked at, too, but US schools have a shit way of taking applications. Most don’t have rolling admissions like UK unis; in the US there are strict deadlines — apps in by January 15th or nothing. Here they are more flexible. Apps preferably in by March 1st (or at your earliest convenience). If there’s space and there’s a researcher willing to take you on as a little protege then you’re good to go!
This is the case with LSHTM. If you’re reading this and you’re from the US, you probably (maybe?) haven’t heard of LSHTM. It’s a specialty school, much like the LSE, and is a part of the University of London. In true U of L fashion, it’s a top-ranked school and is Grade A for its specialty (public health and the sciences). Being that my interest is essentially in public health, a light bulb went off in my head the other day — why am I looking at PhDs at LSE when I can look down the street at a public health specialty school?! The obvious answer! I love London and I’ve had quite an amazing experience under the UoL system.
That being said, I recently emailed the director of the health policy program and a potential tutor to gather more information. After their quick and helpful (and ridiculously kind) responses, I have decided to apply. Unlike US institutions where they rob you during the application process alone ($100+ is pretty normal for application fees), UK universities don’t charge fees for applications for the most part. Even the top unis here (LSE, Oxford, Cambridge) charge 35 – 50 pounds max. Refreshing.
So now time to get down to business. I have begun the application (the easy part), and have begun looking for a potential advisor (if no one wants to take me, I’m SOL). I’ve also started looking for funding. After the $40,000 + in loans I have from my Masters, I can’t afford to pay the overseas fees for my PhD; for this reason, funding is going to be essential. My research proposal and my letters of recommendation are the two pieces I need to get done ASAP since they’re a part of the actual application packet. I need three letters of recommendation (eek) and need to come up with a 1500 word research proposal including a mini lit review, methodology, conceptual framework and potential budgetary requirements. Oh Lord… I thought Masters apps were difficult!
If I’m being honest here (and writing the longest blog post of life), I’m really, really nervous. I’m nervous about not being accepted (as most people would be) and I’m nervous about not getting the required funding and having to pass up an offer if it were available. Conversely, I’m a bit scared that I will get in. That I’ll get in and get funding and there will be every reason in the world for me to stay in London for the next three years and return to the US with a PhD after my name… in that case, I would have to say goodbye to my family, my friends and to the relationships that I have at home that are hanging on because there’s the prospect of me returning after this year is over. What if I don’t go home? What if I DO stay in London until 2013? At that point I will really have to step back and recognize that my life in the US may not be the same when/if I return. People and time won’t stand still while I’m away. However, I know (after many a long conversation with my dad) that I have to make the best decision for me and for my goals and my life. Ultimately, you’re the only person that will be with you in the end — if you live your life for other people, you may be sorely disappointed and resentful in the future. So, with that, I’m going to start my research proposal and hope that it works out as it should. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take it as a sign that perhaps I should return home and look at options from there. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen and I’ll happily take it and run with it.
Some of you have undoubtedly seen this before (I’ve run across it a number of times), but it’s so friggin hilarious and intelligently ridiculous that I have to post it! Worth reading every word:
I’m lazily getting ready for class this morning; doing my make-up, having breakfast and writing a blog post simultaneously. It’s a few minutes after 9A and I don’t have to be in class until 10A which seems days away right now. Despite the clouds looming outside, I think today is actually going to be a good day. I woke up this morning before my alarm which is always a good sign.
I booked a trip to Brighton with my flatmate this weekend which I’m looking forward to. We opted for the train versus the coach and for a mere £17 return we’ll be taking a short 55 minute train ride there. For people looking to save a bit of cash, you can book fun fares through National Express for as little as £4 return! I’m all about saving money, but coaches make me a little sick. The stop-and-go on the way out of London never fails to give me a quality headache. In any case, I have my final Masters-level presentation to give next week so I’m trying to finish that by Friday so I can fully concentrate on the fun and sunshiney weather in Brighton & Hove (according to weather.com, there’s only a 20% chance of rain).
Now, as a side note, I must tell you about one of the things that is still bizarre to me about England (this may be throughout Europe… not entirely sure): the sinks have two separate faucets; one for hot water and one for cold water. Not two knobs and one spout, two separate spouts. Now this always makes it difficult when I’m washing my face. I have two choices: freezing cold or burning hot. There’s no happy medium because there’s not a tap for ‘warm water’ and unless I manage to construct some flexible piping to bring the two taps together, there’s no mechanism for creating warm water. Bizarre, I know. Took me a couple of weeks to accept it.
See what I mean?! Two spouts!
Now, the shower. Well… the shower is a 3 ft x 3 ft box that’s about 8 ft high. Luckily we’re all pretty small girls, otherwise fitting in that shower would be the death of me (I really do feel sorry for big men trying to shower in these dinky facilities). Now, management recently decided to implement these energy efficient shower heads (go green!) that are totally static. They don’t move at all. They spray water all over the 3 ft. x 3 ft. space so if you’re trying to keep your hair out of the water, good luck! My flatmate, K., who hails from Georgia (the country, not the state) once told me that she had ‘created a new technology’ involving putting a sock over the shower head to a) keep the water streaming instead of squirting everywhere and b) to ensure that the water was warm when it hit your body instead of a bit hot and a bit cold (I realize this doesn’t make sense when I say it, but you’d understand if you lived here). Well, I hit the shower this morning at around 815A still in a bit of a fog when I turned on the water and saw this:
I had to stare for a minute before I realized that it was K’s ‘ new technology’! Hahahaha. I literally laughed out loud when I saw it. I reached up to take the sock off when I realized that I should give her idea a shot. Sure enough, I was able to take a pretty pleasant shower and shave without having the water constantly beating on me! Well done, K! Seems bizarre, but don’t knock it til you try it!
Anyway, off to be studious. Catch up with you kiddos later. Hoping this Wednesday’s as amazing as I foresee.
xoxo,
PS. Is anyone else ridiculously excited for Gossip Girl to start on March 8?! I’m counting down the days! I need my weekly dose of mindless activity.
Can there really only be four weeks left in this term? Really? How have sixteen weeks of classes already gone by?!
I should be ecstatic knowing that I’m nearly done with classes, but thinking about the end of this term is so bitter-sweet. In fact, I was just chatting away with a friend on Skype, discussing how we’ll be going our separate ways in a few shorts months. Sure, dissertations aren’t due until September, but we get kicked out of our housing in July and are left to our own devices to find accommodations for the remainder of our time here. Some people will just go home and work on their dissertations from afar. Others are going on to their next grad program (second MSc programs, law school, med school, etc.) and will be leaving London by August to prepare for their next phase. As for me? Well, I’m not 100% sure where I’ll be this summer, but the likelihood that I’ll be in any given place for more than two weeks at a time is pretty unrealistic. I’m planning on spending a couple of weeks in Greece after exams followed by a couple of weeks in Uganda (for a classmate’s wedding). After that, I’ll have to see where the world takes me. I have no obligations anywhere. It’s just me, a carry-on, my laptop and a piece of luggage to lug my life in. Pretty liberating actually. I may spend the summer traveling and come back to London intermittently when I need to gather information for my dissertation. Luckily, there are so many resources that have been made available to us online that we don’t really have to come back. Plus, there are amazing universities (and libraries) all over the world that might be able to assist a poor grad student in search of information. I’m hoping to do enough prep work before July rolls around so my summer months will consist mostly of writing and less of information gathering.
Alex & I in Covent Garden
Lindsay & I at Pitcher & Piano
Hanging out near Buckingham Palace
That being said, I only have four-ish months left with my new-found friends and the thought of parting ways so soon is seriously saddening. Seeing how fast the last six months have gone has been mind blowing, and considering the next four months house a five-week break, there is even less time for all of us to spend together… I never thought I’d be so sad about having to finish up the program here. Mind you, I’m thrilled for summer to come and for exams to be over but it’s the whole not seeing everyone regularly thing that saddens my heart.
There’s only one thing I have to say: thank God for facebook. It makes keeping in touch so much easier so hopefully I won’t feel quite so detached from my flatmates and friends. I’m so sad to have to find new people to live with… I love my flatmates! Who will I get vegetarian dinners with? Who will I eat PB & J with in the middle of the night? Who am I going to plan vacations with?
Ahh, well. Such is life I guess. Time to live in the moment and enjoy this experience for what it is before the next four months have come and gone.
I didn’t go to my seminar this morning. I’m not 100% sure why, but I think it was a mix of the rain thudding against my window (no doubt promising a gloomy day) along with the fact that I wanted to go the gym and needed a mental health day… err… morning, I guess. Such a bum. In my defense, though, I haven’t missed any lectures or seminars this term. In fact, I have gone to all mine plus some — I’ve been auditing classes when they fit into my schedule. My HIV class is of particular interest to me but I’m not taking it for credit. I faithfully attend every Monday at 1230P, however. Today will be no exception. Although I missed my seminar this morning, I have finished gymming and am getting ready so I can make it to a class that I’m not even taking for credit. That’s how good it is.
It’s interesting being an adult student. When you’re a kid, your parents (and the legal system) make you to go to school. I always enjoyed school (surprise, surprise), but I had friends whose parents had to drag them (with a bribe, perhaps) to school every morning. As adults, we force ourselves to go to school. The only thing dragging me to school is the knowledge that I have paid roughly $3900 per class per term (which is about $390 per class day – $195 per lecture & $195 per seminar) to attend this school. For each lecture or seminar that I opt out of, I’m throwing away nearly $200. On top of that, I am here for a reason. I like to think that people come to grad school because they actually want to learn. Undergrad is a different story, of course. Some people just take it as the next step in education or are forced by the parents (who are paying for school) to get an education. Grad school, however, is a different level. No one has to be here. I am here to learn; to get a quality education and return to the United States and enlightened little student, prepping for further education (PhD in the next few years possibly; I know what you’re thinking - who would do that to themselves?!); a neophyte in the world of academia.
All that being said, I skipped my class this morning like a delinquent. I feel a little bit of regret deep in my soul, but I’m going to make up for it by doing a few extra readings on corruption (the topic of discussion this morning) and call it a day. With all the extra classes I sit it on (courses and public lectures), I figure I’m gaining at least an extra $3500 worth of education (if you can even really put a price on education).
A decade ago,
I never thought I would be,
at twenty-three, on the verge of
spontaneous combustion. -Woe-is-me.-
But I guess that it comes
with the territory,
An ominous landscape of
never-ending calamity.
I need you to hear,
I need you to see
that I have had all I can take and
exploding seems like an imminent possibility
to me.
So pardon me while I burst
into flames.
I’ve had enough of the world
and its people’s mindless games.
So pardon me while I burn
and rise above the flame.
Pardon me, pardon me,
I’ll never be the same.
Not two days ago,
I was having a look
in a book
and I saw a picture of a guy
fried up above his knee.
I said, “I can relate,”
cause lately I’ve been thinking of combustication
as a welcome vacation from
the burdens of
the planet Earth.
like gravity, hypocrisy,
and the perils of being in 3-D…
but thinking so much differently.
Pardon me while I burst
into flames.
I’ve had enough of the world
and its people’s mindless games.
So pardon me while I burn
and rise above the flame.
Pardon me, pardon me,
I’ll never be the same.
—-
Let me rephrase. By applicable, I mean the part where he mentions ‘twenty-three’. Mom and dad, I’m not on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Don’t worry.
Being that Wednesday marked the end of my school week and the completion of presentation number two of three for the term, I felt like a little excursion out of London was necessary. Not that I don’t love London, mind you, but since I’m in England, I think that getting the most out of my time here is essential. Sunday, I booked round trip coach tickets through National Express and got fun fare ticket pricing for £8 return!
To be honest, Oxford was higher on my list, but the fact that I found tickets that were so inexpensive — well, Cambridge seemed like a worthy excursion at that price! I visited the town’s website before going so I could get a feel for what there is to see, but aside from shopping, my main sightseeing was geared towards seeing the colleges (there are 31 of them). I think most people are aware that Cambridge has been home to some bright minds — Watson & Crick and their discovery of DNA, Milne’s Winnie the Pooh, Isaac Newton’s discovery of gravity… certainly a pool of intelligence and I was excited to see the colleges at the very least. It’s rather interesting because each college is an independent institution. When I typically think of universities, I imagine going to one main ‘campus’ of sorts and then sightseeing from there, but in this case, the town is Cambridge’s campus, with colleges sprawled all over. Sadly, a number of the colleges were closed when I was there so I only got to see the exteriors, but even from the outside the buildings were pretty intense.
One of the colleges, I think?
King's College
I wish I had more pictures of everything housed in these colleges — the libraries, the mathematical bridge, etc. but a number were closed and most of them (that have sights to see) charge admission fees. I probably should have just paid the fee to get the most out of it, but the rain was a bit of a deterrent.
An interesting discovery — I felt like I was back in Davis for a moment when I got to Cambridge: bikes everywhere! When you walk down the streets, there are bikes tied to every fence along the way and cyclists along the streets. Perhaps it’s just because London is not the most cyclist-friendly of places that seeing so many bikes caught me off guard, but it was seriously intense:
A part of me was actually a bit nervous about making the trip – I was afraid that after being there and seeing the colleges, I would feel a tinge of regret for coming to LSE over looking at Cambridge or Oxford. Let me just say – the trip did one important thing for me: It reinforced the fact that London was the best decision for me! Not that Cambridge wasn’t nice. The town was cute — kind of antiquated and preserved with pretty good shopping for a town of its size. Perhaps the rain put a bit of a damper on the day, but despite all of its history and architecture, etc., etc., I spent most of the day shopping, poking around old book shops (came home with loads of new books)! In fact, one of the best parts of my day was being on the coach as it entered London at night. Seeing London all lit up as we drove along the Thames reminded me just how amazing London is. I might be a bit biased, but I came up with a brilliant theory during my trip (perhaps from being surrounded by Grade A brainwaves):
London + LSE > Small town living + Cambridge
Also, for anyone that’s going to Cambridge, two pieces of advice: 1) Don’t go when it’s raining! I think that the rain put as serious damper on the day; had it been sunny I may have really taken a liking to the place, and 2) Go on a Saturday. I went on a Thursday and saw a number of signs about markets that take place on Saturdays – different craft markets, farmers markets, etc.
I’m not particularly religious; haven’t really been much of a church-goer since I was old enough to make up my mind about attending mass. I’m a reformed Catholic, more of a ’spiritual’ person now, if you can call it that. It’s important for me to believe in something greater (I refer to him/her as ‘God’, but I’m all about everyone having their right to believe in what gives them satisfaction in life), because the idea of death being the end kind of weirds me out. I think my opposition isn’t to religion, per se, but rather institutionalized religion. The idea of having to go to confession, weekly masses, give 10% of my income to the church — it strikes me as a bit cultish. I think religion is a personal thing (for me at least) and it’s a bit uncomfortable when people force their business of religion down other people’s throats.
Although I wouldn’t even classify myself as Catholic anymore (I’m not really sure what I classify myself as, if I’m being honest — non-denominational Christian?), I think Lent is an interesting period. I normally don’t even recognize the commencement of Lent (on Ash Wednesday), but this year I’ve decided to take up the ideals of Lent for the 40 day period. During the time from Ash Wednesday to Easter, Catholics are supposed to give something up; to sacrifice something that they value/appreciate. For some people it will be soda, for some it’ll be cursing, shopping or watching TV; it’s a highly personal decision. I’ve decided to incorporate my Lent into a healthy habit — I’m giving up chocolate and other sweets (cookies, cake, desserts). I say ‘chocolate’ specifically because that’s really the only sugar that I indulge in. I love my dark chocolate but I’m going to attempt to give it up for the next 40 (well, 38) days.
Now that I’ve posted it, maybe I’ll be a little more inclined to stick with it!
What are you guys giving up for Lent?
Also, can’t get this Tom Petty cover out of my head; listened to it a good 10 times today:
On the blogging agenda for tomorrow: My review of Cambridge — hit up the university town today to check out the colleges and sight-see; I’ll be posting pics from my rainy excursion!
On my actual agenda for tomorrow: Getting my hair re-blonded (so I can feel human again) and meeting up with other kiddos from my program at the Hookah Lounge on Brick Lane!
Do you ever look back at your life and wonder: a) how it’s gone by so quickly and b) how you got to the point that you’re at? I feel like I do it a little too often; like I regularly have existential crises.
I'm not the only one with existential crises, I see.
I’m sitting in my room in London right now, looking around, wondering how I got to be in this place. By this place I mean both this physical place (London) and this place in my life (23 years old, living in another country, studying social policy). I swear just yesterday I was 10. In fact, I vividly remember thinking how I was finally going to be a double-digit; practically a grown up. I had a birthday party at a local skating rink where they dimmed the lights and everyone roller skated around with glow sticks. My birthday cake was an ode to Aladdin – the newest Disney movie at the time.
Now it’s 14 years later.
Fourteen years.
What the f*?! I feel bizarrely old when I refer to things that happened fifteen years ago and I can actually remember them. Not that growing older is bad, I certainly like the autonomy that comes with age, but I still feel like a kid. I find it weird when people ask me for advice. I find it even more weird when people my age are starting businesses, getting married, having babies, working with the government… ‘How can they hire us?! We’re kids!’ I say to myself. Clearly that’s not the case though. At some point, I grew up (or I grew older, at least) and everyone around me did the same.
I never thought I’d be here right now. If you would have asked 15-year-old Shannon where she would be in 8 years, she certainly wouldn’t have said ‘In London, studying social policy.’ As a matter of fact, if you would have asked the 18-, 20- or even 22-year-old versions of myself that question, they wouldn’t have given you that answer. At each stage it probably would have been something different: Medical school. A genetic counselor. A marketing associate. Now, though, I wonder how everything came to be; how stuff kind of just falls into place in life. Even though I wouldn’t have pictured myself here at this moment in my life, I can look back at the last few months and honestly say I wouldn’t have it any other way. These have been the best months of my entire life. Not only do I love living in London (and in Europe, generally, for that matter), I absolutely love my university and I love the subject that I’m studying. Just a few years ago, I wouldn’t have even looked at the LSE; not only because that’s not where my interests were, necessarily, but also because I didn’t know that much about the university. Social policy and development?! I had a hard time choosing Masters degrees and I chose my course purely out of instinct — it felt right, but I had no real justification for it. My academic background certainly didn’t speak to a social policy degree and my experience in development was non-existent. Yet for some reason, I applied; and, fortunately, I actually got in. The experiences I’ve had over the past few months, the people that I’ve met, the things that I’ve learned the places that I’ve seen — it’s a transformative experience, to say the least. And now… well, now I know that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes you don’t know where life is going to take you, but you just have to be open to the possibility of letting it take you wherever it wants to go. Sometimes you need experiences that you wouldn’t necessarily consider because they help make you a better, stronger and more fulfilled person.
So, how did I get here?
Well, I have no idea, but I’m happy that I made it.
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