On Grad School, Ice Skating, and the Quarter-Life Crisis

Hello to all and welcome! It is another late night when I’m trying to write something effective and good and instead I’m procrastinating by posting here. Whoo!

So first and foremost on this special late-night edition, I want to talk about grad school. If you’ve been following me since day one (there are like 5 of you), then you know about my whole academic thing. I started at BU, went there for a semester, transferred to Pitt, and just graduated in December. Cool. It was always clear to me that I wanted to keep going to school. My mom has her Ph.D. and I think that’s one of the most admirable things ever, especially since 7-year-old me got to go see her defend her dissertation. From that time, I knew I wanted to pursue higher education, but it’s always been about what and how.

I also talked a while back about London. I studied there in the summer of 2016. Before this, I was never one of those people who wanted to live abroad. I was perfectly content to remain planted on American soil. Something shifted when I went overseas. I can’t say exactly what it was, but good God, I fell in love with the city. I absolutely dreaded coming home because it just felt like I was so unfinished in the U.K., like I had a million other things to see and do.

When I came back, I decided that I wanted to pursue my MA in London. A lot of you might be wondering why I’m not pursuing a MFA, and the answer is a little complicated. So eventually, I want to be a professor of English writing and maybe lit. An MFA is a terminal degree, usually a three-year program. Essentially, it doesn’t make sense to do an MFA and a Ph.D. and I really want a Ph.D. The route I’m going is probably not highly recommended, but it’s the way I want. There’s a lot more technical stuff – dissertations and the like – and it’s not all practice-based writing, but that’s what I’m looking for.

So really, I only applied to one school, in the end (and two after the fact but that’s a whole other ordeal that I’m not going into – mild anxiety attack). I applied to and was accepted to study at Royal Holloway, University of London. The creative writing MA is in central London, blocks from the British Museum, and I couldn’t be happier. George Eliot went to RHUL back before it was RHUL, which just feels like a wild coincidence because my main character in the book we’re dealing with now is named after a character from Middlemarch. Also, Jojo Moyes (ME BEFORE YOU) studied writing there, so that’s cool. Basically, I’m extremely happy and I can’t wait to write a book in London. The book is plotted and all, and I’m just waiting to hop on a plane and go write it.

So that’s fun. I’m officially jumping the pond at the end of August. If you happen to live in London or are familiar with the city, drop a comment or a Twitter DM and let me know some places I have to visit!

Now, shifting gears a little bit. There was a lot of excitement with everything going on at the end of the year, but so far, things have been pretty silent around here since January. And since I’m leaving in August, I’m having a hard time figuring out what to do with myself in the meantime. I’m working a lot and still doing an editorial internship and writing, but I’m kind of bored. So I’m trying to learn new things and yada yada yada. The boredom is the quarter-life crisis, which I was going to go into more, but it’s a little too depressing for right now so I’ll write about it when I’m in more of a thinkpiece mood. Tonight is for funny and happy times. Which brings us to our final story.

I don’t tell enough short things about my life, so here goes a pretty, uh, fun thing that happened to me today. If you follow me on Twitter, you already saw.

I want to preface this by saying that I’m obsessed with the Olympics. Winter and summer. So I spent half of February watching people zoom around onĀ ice, thinking, “Huh. That looks fun.” I ice skated as a child, but I never really got the hang of it. So, 21-year-old, college graduate me decided to sign up for ice skating lessons. I signed up for a rink that specifically advertised adult lessons because, you know, that’s sort of what I am.

Those started tonight. I got to the rink, got my skates, and went to the rink the lady sent me to. Yeah. Everyone else with skates on was knee-height. I panicked a bit and asked the instructors, and apparently everyone skates in the same rink but is separated? But I was the only actual adult?

But I paid for this eight-week class and I wasn’t backing down. So I laced up my skates and, uh, took skating class with a bunch of eight-year-olds.

Right. I’m cool. Connecting with America’s youth.

So hopefully more adults show up next week. Or not. In the meantime, I’ll give all of the parents something to laugh about. And I’ll try not to break a hip.

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