Thoughts on Grad School…

 I’ve been fairly contemplative, a bit meta, over this whole crazy thing that IS grad school – specifically, English graduate school. Everyone says graduate school is terrible, but you love it, but you hate it, and you have no free time because classes and research suck your life. But – and maybe this is just me – it really doesn’t seem that bad. So here are my thoughts, on what this is like. For me, at least.  Continue reading

Not Alone

Last night, feeling rather morose and mopey and altogether out of sorts, I wrote about missing places I’ve grown so fond of. Afterwards, I was surprised and cheered to find that, as it turns out, I am not the only one.

Over and over, I saw people I love and respect from my alma mater saying the same things, more or less, in their own ways. I am homesick. Something is not right. Where is home?  Continue reading

Just take me back to Italy or Ipswich.

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Pathway to a church in Hadleigh, UK

Tonight, there is no where I want to be so much as the other side of the Atlantic. I imagine that the sun is washing London pink and orange now; it’s summer, and morning comes early. I imagine the beds I have no slept in in a good long while—near Heathrow, and the two-inch mattress on the seventh floor of Manson Place, and the couch in Florence under fourteen-foot-high Tuscan ceilings. The futon in Naples and the bunk at Castle Rock, Edinburgh. The floor of a Dublin hotel room, sneaking. S’s mother’s house near Ipswich, with a little window to the room so you could open it an look out over the street.  Continue reading