The Abroad Before The Abroad

It’s February 12th. I’ve been on winter break for 54 days now. Or maybe it’s summer break I’ve been on? This synchronizing with a Southern Hemisphere schedule while I’m still here in the States is really messing with me.

Anywho, a winter break with this long a life is inevitably going to establish a uniqueness in what you do to pass the days. It starts as exactly what a break should be: working is good, reading is nice, and sleeping is this
new luxury I’ve discovered. But when your Mom’s friends tell you they’ve exhausted all the manual labor around their homes and offices they can think of to keep you employed, when your seasons of Breaking Bad on Netflix have run dry, when you’ve had enough of Ken Follett and his 12th century architecture, and when you want a gross natty with your friends more than that delicious IPA you’re drinking with your father, it’s time to come back to school.

So, I planned a 10-day trip back to Georgetown for February. In fact, I started writing this post from a dorm room in LXR. And now I’m finishing it lying again on a couch at home, nursing some recently extracted wisdom teeth with a healthy dosage of vicodin and frozen yogurt, both very carefully regulated by my mother, the best nurse a college kid could ask for (shouts to you, Mom, if you’re reading). Plus, in the time in-between sending snapchats of my swollen cheeks to everyone I know, I’ve found this time on the couch as an opportunity to reflect on my recent trip to the hilltop and to start to dream of my upcoming trip to Chile.

The trip to Georgetown was great. And strange. Like I was in some stagnant, limbo state while this vibrant, centripetal force whipped the world around me – kinda like a really fast merry-go-round that I couldn’t really catch up to to hop on. Interactions with peers ranged from aggressive double takes to over-exaggerated hugs as if I’d just resurrected from the dead to nonchalant, even passive high fives. But beyond the people, who really were great to see, what was strangest about being at school while not being a student was the palpable purposelessness I felt.

I recommend you all try it – go to school when you’re not supposed to be there, when people aren’t expecting you, when you have nothing of importance to do, and observe. Just look in on what you know so well from a new, outsider’s perspective. It’s pretty invigorating, actually. Trust me, if when you roll out of bed, your friends are coming back in suits from interviews with internationally recognized financial firms, you’re motivated to go get a job. If your friends are discussing the distinctions between the CPI and the GDP Deflator while you’re reading Angels and Demons, you crave going to class (not knocking Dan Brown, by the way; that book is incredibly gripping). And if you’re sitting in the audience while your friends sing onstage at the Cherry Tree Massacre, you remember how much you love to perform. It stimulates you. It gets you ready.

So now, just a little under two weeks from my departure, I feel ready. Truly ready. I feel as though I’ve gotten a taste for what it feels to be abroad: not so much the language barrier or the culture change or the new friends or the climate adjustment or the excitement of complete and total nuance, but more the excitement to get back into a stirring pace of life, the anticipation of regaining the energy and novelty of academia. Who knows, maybe its the vicodin talking, but I can’t wait to get off this sofa and onto that plane. It will be hard not to be at Georgetown this semester, yes, but if the perspective of that school I just gathered in my last visit is any indication, I know I will return to DC in August with an entirely new appreciation for what Georgetown offers and for what it truly means to be a Hoya.

But until then, its pinkberry and selfies til my brain rots!

Keep following, friends and family. I’m excited to see where this blog takes us. And I promise the next photo won’t include these mumps-esque ice bags. Stay classy, followers.