Success and Rejection

Forest near my home

I'm so bewildered right now. My life could not possibly have taken a more dramatic turn in the past few days. 

Just over a week ago, I took the bus to university nearly crying. I'd been rejected from two universities and the other two weren't providing me with enough funding to afford to attend. My papers weren't going well. I was looking for jobs, but even with a Masters it seemed like I wasn't qualified for anything.

And then Friday Afternoon happened. 

I can't release details yet, not until everything is finalized, but I now have the opportunity to go do my PhD in the UK next year, which is what I've hoped and prayed and worked for all this past year. 

One big yes began an avalanche of yeses, all happening so fast I could barely keep track. I went from a burnt-out MA student uncertain if I'd ever enter a classroom again to a desirable PhD candidate with grad chairs at prestigious universities casually saying they'd love to have me and graduate financial managers suggesting we meet up for drinks and world experts in my field chatting in my office and offering to help in any way they could. 

It's wonderful. It's crazy. It's utterly beyond what I could have expected.

Moonlight walk the evening I heard the news

It’s also, quite frankly, a tad uncomfortable. I’m exactly the same person I was a week ago, but just with one highly important piece of paper in my hand. And now everyone wants to help me out. I’m the go-to success story that makes my department look good. I’m the rags to riches fairy tale.

I always assumed that people doing PhDs at prestigious universities with sizable scholarships had it all together. They were the best of the best. They were smart. And hardworking. And somehow magical—everything worked out for them. They could sit in their comfy office chairs with all their applications and grant proposals comfortably behind them and smile because they had succeeded at life.

But that’s not how it is. Maybe for some people, but not for me. I was rejected. I was burnt-out. I was so lost and confused. If there’s one thing I know about life, it’s that I most definitely don’t have it all together.

There’s a lot of hard work coming. I may have gotten the PhD position of my dreams, but actually getting the degree won’t be easy. And then there’re postdocs. And adjunct positions. And maybe, sometime in the future, a professor’s chair.

Western

I certainly haven’t written my last application or received my last rejection. Life is not all sunshine and rainbows from here on. I may have gotten accepted where it counted most, and I am beyond thrilled. But I am still the same person who was rejected.

I want to be the person who learns from those rejections rather than the one who pretends it’ll never happen again. I want to remember how hard the road has been so far so I can be more empathetic towards the ones travelling behind me and more respectful of the ones ahead. I want to sincerely thank everyone who has supported me so far and in turn support everyone I can.

I want to grow, yet not become a different person from last week, before everything went right. My worth as a human being does not depend on what one scholarship committee thinks of two pages I’ve written. I want to work hard and trust God and move forward knowing that I am not defined, ultimately, by either my academic failures, or my successes. 

Day 338: Living the Dream?

 I write this while sitting on a patio in Venice, a canopy to protect me from the brilliant sun, jazz music playing, a cup of tea steeping on the table, Italian waiters at the ready to bring me milk, or more hot water, or anything else I should need. 

I'm living the dream, apparently. 

Except, at the risk of sounding like the biggest spoiled brat in the history of the known universe (barring Justin Bieber), my life is no dream. 

Over this past year I've done so many things and been so many places that I've always dreamed about. Scotland. England. Ireland. Holland. Italy... the list could go on and on, but those are some of the main ones. Basically, for the past year, I have been quite literally living my dream. 

But, of course, this little thing called life tends to get in the way. The dream Britain is full of rolling hills and fish and chips and cups of tea with the Queen, but the real Britain involves wind and rain and supper in crowded MacDonalds and overnight busses breaking down at 5am.

The dream Italy involves relaxing on a balcony over the Mediterranean sipping wine, then taking a gondola ride through Venice and eating bowls of gelato in expensive florentine cafés. The real Italy involves grabbing meals in overpriced supermarkets and riding on crowded trains and getting hit on my creepy middle aged men and suffering blistered feet and sunburns. 

I'm not saying this to complain. Italy is amazing. All my travels have been fantastic. I wouldn't give up this past year for anything. But I just want to make it clear that my life is about as different from a travel magazine as a real life relationship is from a romance novel. 

Yes, I love my life. But it's really not a dream. That's why it's called life. 

Day 240: Endings

To employ an overly bookish metaphor: a chapter of my life is coming to a close. However, instead of quickly moving on to a new chapter, I feel like the page is being curled over slowly, leaving me waiting half way between chapters.

I hadn’t realized how many half-endings there would be here. A year ago I completed my last classes and exams at King’s, which was certainly bitter sweet. This year, it’s my entire undergraduate career that’s over. Two weeks ago I dropped off my last essay. A week was my last official performance in St. Andrew’s. Last week was the last CU meeting. Yesterday was my last class. In three weeks it’s my last exam. In a month I leave St. Andrew’s.

The problem with all these endings is that they’re constantly negated by other events. After handing in my last essays, I still had another presentation. After the last CU meeting, we still had a ball and a BBQ. After my official last show, I’m still doing two more Gilbert and Sullivan performances. After my last exams, I’ll already be thinking about my MA. After leaving St. Andrew’s, I’ll be returning at least two or three times during the summer.

It’s hard to say goodbye when there are so many endings. There’s no definitive moment when I can hug everyone and cry and really let go of this town and my life as an undergraduate. Everything sort of flows together in an unending stream of last times. I’m never really sure when something really is the last time and when it’s just a sort of rehearsal for the real goodbye.

And that’s okay. If there was some sort of big moment when everything was done and I had to give up this year and switch into my life next year, that would only make things so much harder. It’s easier this way, to give things up slowly and to ease into all the exciting things happening next year.

Right now it’s looking like I might not fly back to Canada until September 1^st, the day before my MA orientation. Maybe it’s a stupid idea to start my time back ‘home’ with a bad case of jetlag (although apparently it’s not as bad going east to west as west to east) but I want to stay here as long as possible. Plus, there’s a sort of poetic justice in returning to Canada on September 1^st, since last fall I left on September 2^nd. It would be a lovely way to round out a year of travel.

I don’t want to leave this town, this country, this life. But, at the same time, I’m so very excited for next year. I’m excited to start my MA and work on a thesis. I’m excited to live with a family again. I’m excited to act in Marlow’s Doctor Faustus. I’m excited to see my country again, and to finally see my family. As much as I’m sad to leave this chapter of my life behind, I’m definitely looking forward to the next one. 

Day 80: England!

I'm in England.

We've just gone through Newcastle and York and a whole bunch of other places, and in just over an hour we'll be in London.

I'm so excited. Back when it was actually light and I could see the countryside, I just couldn't stop looking out the window and smiling. The train ride from Edinburgh to London is just so gorgeous. It goes right along the coast, presenting some lovely views of the ocean.

It's dark now, so I can't see much, but whenever we go through a city I can catch a glimpse of some of the larger buildings, like a church with stained glass windows lit up. I'm a little sad that I'll arrive in London at seven pm, so I really won't be able to see much, but I can afford to wait until tomorrow.

But... I'm in England. It really shouldn't be this exciting; after all, I've been in the UK for the past three months. Still, there's something exhilarating about entering a new country.

It's not just any country, either. It's England, the country where all my favourite authors lived. The country where my grandparents came from. The country I've wanted to visit my entire life.

I can't believe I'm here. The odd thing is that, despite how this is all completely new to me, it still feels like coming home. This is where my roots are. Maybe I'm Canadian, but my ancestors (well, on my dad's side) were English. I'm going back to where my family came from.

London should be amazing. The purpose of my visit is to attend the Doctor Who fiftieth anniversary convention this weekend (which means I get to see Matt Smith and Colin Baker and so many other cool people... Jealous yet?) but since I'm here all the way until Monday I'll get to do a lot of other things too, like hopefully see some plays, visit the British museum, and see some landmarks like Big Ben.

I just can't stop saying this.... I'm so excited! This trip is, quite literally, a dream come true. By the time I post this (no wifi on the train, so gotta wait until I get to the house of the friend of a friend who I'm staying with to post this blog) I'll be in London. I can't wait.

Day 4: Settling In

It’s now been several days since I arrived in Scotland, and I think I’m satisfactorily settled in. My suitcases are unpacked, my posters are up, I have a phone, I’ve got a bank account with money on the way, and I’ve met a number of new people. I have a good feel for the town, and I don’t think I’m likely to get lost again any time soon. :)

Tomorrow, things will start getting properly busy. Until now, the only students in town have been the ones who live off-campus, like me. Halls (residences) open tomorrow, so the vast majority of students will show up then. I’ll hopefully get to see the other Western students tomorrow, and maybe meet some new people at a big welcome party in the evening. There’s also a Christian fellowship kickoff tomorrow morning, which should be a great place to meet new friends.

I’ve already met a few people, mainly postgrads, thanks to my fantastic flatmate. She’s doing her PhD at St. Andrew’s, and so she’s introduced me to a number of her friends. I’ve been to a lovely little bible study, which is going to grow like crazy whenever most of the students show up, and tonight I met an exchange student from Nova Scotia. Funny how special it is to meet people from so close to home.

I think I’m ready for the craziness of Fresher’s week. The past days have been wonderful for getting settled in, and having very little on my to-do list meant that I could sleep in, or just wander around. I’m not the kind of person who likes to throw myself right into something unfamiliar, so I’ve really enjoyed having a few days to adjust.

But now I’m ready to meet people, and join societies, and stay up late, and become a real St. Andrew’s student. I’m ready for life to get a little busy. Fresher’s week: here I come!

P.S. Is it sad that my big happiness of the day was finding a grocery store that was so much cheaper than Tescoes? I know Tescoes is a big thing here, but Aldi is less crowded and the prices are way better (similar or cheaper than in Canada). Basically, I’m just happy that I’ll be able to eat well without spending more than I would back home. 

Not Quite Graduating

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang, but a whimper.

---- T. S. Eliot “The Hollow Men”

To begin on a cheerful note, the lines I just quoted from Eliot’s brilliant poem kind of reflect how I’m feeling right now. I have just a week left of classes, and I’m done at King’s forever. I’ll never have these profs again, or go to classes with many of my friends. When exams end in a month, I’ll never return as an undergraduate.

There should be ceremony. There should be speeches, and prizes, and fancy black hats, and flowers. Instead, I’m just sort of leaving. After all, I’m only done third year. I’m not even graduating. And yet, because I’m going to Scotland next year, I might as well be.

Maybe this is one of the reasons they don’t advise going on exchange in your fourth year (aside from the fact that getting all your required courses done can be a headache). There’s no closure. There’s no recognition of everything I’ve accomplished at King’s. Even next year I won’t be at the May convocation with the rest of my class since I’ll still be writing exams in Scotland. I’ll have to graduate in the fall, with all the kids who needed summer school to finish up. I’m just sort of slipping away.

I don’t regret deciding to go to Scotland. I’m beyond excited to head off, and I know I’ll have an amazing time. BUT… leaving King’s is a little bitter-sweet. I’ve only been here for two years, and it feels like I’m not really quite done yet. I could do another year.

Maybe it’s a good thing to leave now, when I’m still going to look back fondly on my years at King’s. I see so many of my fourth year classmates sighing “I can’t wait to get out of here!” and I completely understand their perspectives. Four years at the same school could get a little old. For me, I’ll have attended four different universities by the time I’m done my undergrad. I’ve had so many opportunities, and no time to get tired of anything.

I’m excited to move on, but I’ll definitely miss King’s. I guess that’s how life is, constantly mediating between the past and the future. But for the present, I’ll enjoy my last month at King’s, even if that last month is spent frantically writing exams. :)