master procrastinator

I've even put off starting THIS to almost the last moment. Let it be known from the outset: Moving is way hard. And, additionally, I am paralyzed with fear at the prospect.

This grim note aside, I welcome you to a pretty awesome blog. I'm spending my year in Philadelphia earning an M.A. in Modern British Literature (with a certification in Women's Studies, let's not forget how awesome I am) living big, like a proud and starving artist. Or alternately: living "abroad" during a year of personal growth. Or maybe like a pretentious, ivory-tower academe. Whatever, it's going to be awesome and you are a better person for subscribing.

This, however, does not negate the awful truth that moving from Williamsburg is pretty much hell. Thus the procrastination, from packing to lease-signing (eek) to this.

I moved to the 'Burg in August 2005 to start college and never looked back; it's bittersweet to say goodbye almost exactly four years later. 17th century interpreters, swampy humidity, freaky tourists and all, I'm heartbroken to leave. W&M alums are picking up what I'm putting down.

You can totally take awesome pictures with a stone-age Kodak camera.
Circa July 2009

My high school admissions tour took us down the Sunken Gardens pathway on the Ewell side, and I had one of those super-dorky "This is so my College!" moments that convinces you you'll never belong anywhere else. Thus, those uneven bricks have always held personal significance for me, and five years later I walked them one last time to say goodbye. It sucked.

On a whim, I chose to visit Tucker a final time last week. It housed my ephemeral second major, and was where I made the terrifying call to close the lid on science and pursue something impractical because I freaking love it and that's my only reason. Thanks to Tucker's general awesomeness, I am headed to graduate school in three days and am totally stoked.

I even shot Tyler an obscene gesture on my way in, because as much as I love my BBA friends the BSchool is pretty much diametrically opposed to everything I love and celebrate about life. IE I love jabbering on about narrative technique and cultural interpretative significance by artistic movement while you guys are next door giving Powerpoints on capitalism's destruction of Asia or whatever. Hilarious. And also: cubicles suck passion from one's soul. Corporate America advocates homogenity. And "paper jams" are a myth designed to eat away at your sanity. Poor BBAs.

But more to the point, I don't know what I was expecting at Tucker. Maybe a quick tour of my old classrooms, a lingering Professor to talk RenDrama with, leftover chalkboard notes on Milton or something. Anything that felt right during this goodbye moment.

Certainly not this:
Ouch. What an inglorious kick in the ass.