tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78425132509900659222024-02-18T20:57:33.118-08:00Henriette's student blogHenriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-13074846805658523762015-02-17T07:36:00.000-08:002015-02-17T07:36:09.084-08:00What You Get Up ToYes, it took a reminder e-mail to guilt-trip me into posting this.<br />
<br />
But overall, I'd say we can apply the rule most parents use once their kids have flown the nest:<br />
<i>As long as we don't hear anything, we can safely assume everything is alright.</i><br />
(I think I might even have called my father once and he was so shocked he asked me five minutes what was wrong.)<br />
<br />
So - yes! Uni is great!<br />
It get's harder the further the term progresses (yes, I know, who'd have thought) - but it also gets a lot more fun.<br />
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You finally manage to swipe your student ID and walk through the gates in one swift motion without spilling your coffee. When people ask you where they can find the reception, you don't have to get a panicked expression anymore but can smoothly say: "You've just passed it." And you just <i>know</i> that you have time to go to the loo, get a sandwich and take the stairs instead of the lift, even though your lecture technically ends the second your seminar starts.<br />
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And I guess if I hadn't left it until Reading Week, then I also wouldn't have to write two essays just now - but alas, there was so much to do!<br />
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Going to a concert. Going to a silent disco. Doing the 15 essential readings for my presentation. Far too many movie nights. Library meetings. Taking a stroll through Kensington Gardens despite freezing temperatures. Shivering on the way back home from the cinema. Smiling.<br />
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Can't really do enough of that last one, though :)<br />
<br />Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-47235030481379719502015-01-18T07:53:00.003-08:002015-01-18T07:53:53.319-08:00Guess who's back<div style="text-align: justify;">
... back again. (Sorry, not really an Eminem fan.)</div>
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First of all: Happy New Year!</div>
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I hope you all had a lovely Christmas, that your New Year's Resolutions have worked out for you so far, and if you're applying to uni this year: Good luck! You're gonna make it!</div>
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I haven't poster over the Christmas break, I was back home, I didn't do all that much uni related stuff (except for finishing my essays, but oh well, they're only ever so exciting).</div>
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From the looks of it, though, this term isn't going to change all that much from that. I guess the rumour that the first term is only ever to settle in, and the second is when uni really begins is true after all.</div>
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I mean, last term I had a plan, almost a schedule I was posting after, but I don't think I will be as well-organised this time. </div>
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Because it won't just be my first year of University I'll be finishing, I will also have to be on the look out for modules, a flat and internships I can do next term. (Although "flat" might be a bit ambitious - this is London after all.) </div>
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I like to believe I have a pretty good idea what I'm doing, but let's face it, the unknown always makes the bygone troubles look a lot more appealing: Why not do finals again? Or plan my move? I mean, it worked out in the end, didn't it?</div>
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But then again, I guess 2015 will as well. It always has somehow, after all.</div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards." --- Søren Kierkegaard</blockquote>
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Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-41958846215878232522014-12-04T00:00:00.000-08:002014-12-05T01:17:08.833-08:00Making it worth your whileNot like we haven't always known that uni is soooooooooooo much more:<br />
(a.k.a it's the last weekend of term so here finally have some photos I'm horrible I never take photos I fail at youth culture have fun)<br />
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<strong>Opportunities:</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWUzMDTy3lT6DR-CQnGR9QzFOcrKlHzn54dTUajDLGOPUVC0osUCuY1X41-AajJYWUb5i7u3H8ONbCIqp11HYCnK3y7CTHAjc8VX4tT_SFk5_vWfpejRZ_XMTeGhEb5xreHYJJFTQfrTY/s1600/20141129_170431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicWUzMDTy3lT6DR-CQnGR9QzFOcrKlHzn54dTUajDLGOPUVC0osUCuY1X41-AajJYWUb5i7u3H8ONbCIqp11HYCnK3y7CTHAjc8VX4tT_SFk5_vWfpejRZ_XMTeGhEb5xreHYJJFTQfrTY/s1600/20141129_170431.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my Appeal Caller Fundraising Team! Together we got people to donate £78,787 for our Alumni Fund!! <br />
(never mind my face, though.)<br />
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</tbody></table>
<strong>Inspiration:</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieax7AjrWJUwfTVSyE9LgxfbGxG0p3hWyY2m9JUclhfWCyxHU34zYpcW0K2zFs6dwNF6rTwNh075HFMG8O3E3_0ioyPF0TKBwqO3y5R4ZOarHr0QeVBSecICVwCXVvgEJk7a-wJO1rN8-V/s1600/IMG_20141019_130842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieax7AjrWJUwfTVSyE9LgxfbGxG0p3hWyY2m9JUclhfWCyxHU34zYpcW0K2zFs6dwNF6rTwNh075HFMG8O3E3_0ioyPF0TKBwqO3y5R4ZOarHr0QeVBSecICVwCXVvgEJk7a-wJO1rN8-V/s1600/IMG_20141019_130842.jpg" height="97" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic College Nando's Fridge Poetry. (I did mention I'm on a creative campus, didn't I? *cough*)</td></tr>
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<strong>New experiences:</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5KXbRqDNKGzThFJ_rPD8cxwH02Bb6X2VoLFJvF23UA-W3MlbcjqyzLYdlHFELpVhdbLWs5NbzMK08GVpdegnBBz2dfWl1KOw_mdsE3JAgaWWHy-HRb1tqudcsUa095UnrzTjLJLPutEu/s1600/IMG_20141031_212805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5KXbRqDNKGzThFJ_rPD8cxwH02Bb6X2VoLFJvF23UA-W3MlbcjqyzLYdlHFELpVhdbLWs5NbzMK08GVpdegnBBz2dfWl1KOw_mdsE3JAgaWWHy-HRb1tqudcsUa095UnrzTjLJLPutEu/s1600/IMG_20141031_212805.jpg" height="217" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baking Halloween Pumpkin Cake only with borrowed appliances...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseSZ639_sSte1b74FYUuyu5wR21OfYc7KQlJyO6tXSDi2ScV7r-l6F7AYkpwHSXfiQyX_F9QgC9_4R8ij2tip2hUHnHvXFq9s1ikwQPXBW3fSN7ljd2a-IlXRKWg5T9d4V0vagjq-zU6F/s1600/tumblr_ng3qdsU98f1ssuwy1o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseSZ639_sSte1b74FYUuyu5wR21OfYc7KQlJyO6tXSDi2ScV7r-l6F7AYkpwHSXfiQyX_F9QgC9_4R8ij2tip2hUHnHvXFq9s1ikwQPXBW3fSN7ljd2a-IlXRKWg5T9d4V0vagjq-zU6F/s1600/tumblr_ng3qdsU98f1ssuwy1o1_1280.jpg" height="111" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... and this is pretty much self-explanatory but also disgusting. #college</td></tr>
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<strong>Truly funny lecturers:</strong><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnd01qpPu3-x-zJpXeo9cTKME9oafHOubLBWgsn55UGaYPJZHOrLfYLsHQ55hBQFaAqQ74nbx3oiwN4NQ3GePHuyvGss7S-eITSDh-pxW3jQqHjHMjuDYgOEQoR74EOzoKCaUAjeEwYVCk/s1600/tumblr_ng3qv3JiN51ssuwy1o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnd01qpPu3-x-zJpXeo9cTKME9oafHOubLBWgsn55UGaYPJZHOrLfYLsHQ55hBQFaAqQ74nbx3oiwN4NQ3GePHuyvGss7S-eITSDh-pxW3jQqHjHMjuDYgOEQoR74EOzoKCaUAjeEwYVCk/s1600/tumblr_ng3qv3JiN51ssuwy1o1_1280.jpg" height="400" width="377" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who encourage you to tweet during their lectures! Awesome.</td></tr>
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<strong>And these weirdos you at some point just start calling your friends:</strong><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwkAxo2HM3TSI0bHaX0hoLT61VjbLYB28Y1o1Ht6xnOI1rWLULZAxyjb5kQDVN_3pf8HVpH2mDLWfBxg1xXL-ZC40oMbcK0METvW_Ex4naleRSryW5feDJU-dZAz_lFsIGjwXQqkfFPL5/s1600/15795_10205196216211264_3910539429679126358_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguwkAxo2HM3TSI0bHaX0hoLT61VjbLYB28Y1o1Ht6xnOI1rWLULZAxyjb5kQDVN_3pf8HVpH2mDLWfBxg1xXL-ZC40oMbcK0METvW_Ex4naleRSryW5feDJU-dZAz_lFsIGjwXQqkfFPL5/s1600/15795_10205196216211264_3910539429679126358_n.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fanks, sweeties.</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
You here more from me when this term is over! </div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-68746503880855756512014-12-01T00:00:00.000-08:002014-12-01T01:22:33.935-08:00Essays, Essays, EssaysWill you tell me I should just stop posting random blog posts every few days if I start complaining about coursework now?<br />
Probably.<br />
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That said, yes, there are essays, and portfolios and case studies; the end of term is in two weeks and there's only ever so much coffee.<br />
And especially in busy times, it's sometimes hard to stay grounded. Or healthy.<br />
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And compared to my exam phase last year around that time, this little bit of essay writing that doesn't technically count towards my degree is like riding a pony. (On second thought though... Not like riding a pony. I wouldn't even know how to saddle a pony.)<br />
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And on top of all of that, last year I was also worrying about my unit application and how it would be processed and whether my English and my grades would be good enough to get in and... oh well, it was just not a nice time for my parents.<br />
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But today I was sitting on the tube and put my "2014" playlist on (yes, I have a playlist that I add favourite songs or meaningful songs of every month to) and I just thought... well, there' actually quite a few things I did this year that I can be proud of.<br />
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And because I'm a fan of lists, find one attached:<br />
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<u><span style="font-size: large;">Things to be proud of 2k14</span></u><br />
<ul>
<li>Applying to uni all on my own (and getting in!)</li>
<li>Starring in a student-directed play that we could present in an actual theatre</li>
<li>Finishing school (although after having my results I really mustn't have worried as much as I did)</li>
<li>Writing a couple of short stories that don't read to bad</li>
<li>Getting my best friend to follow her heart. This was also probably the hardest thing I did all year.</li>
<li>Giving a speech at my graduation ceremony and making people cry. (Well, the last part is not really something to be proud of, I admit that.)</li>
<li>Realising that some things and people really <em>matter</em> - and other not at all</li>
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And I know that I'm not the most inspiring human being, that my life is always surprisingly normal (but still very precious and special from a first hand experience, believe me), but I hope that maybe doing the same thing, just compiling a small list of things you are proud of, can help you a bit to hold your head up high and face the future a little lighter-hearted. Not all is bad.<br />
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Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-89771743750488182422014-11-26T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-26T00:00:10.192-08:00And the doubts come at night<div align="justify">
Are you the kind of person that can make a decision and stick to it?</div>
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If not, then you might be a common sufferer of "Buyer's remorse", a post-decision form of <em>cognitive</em> <em>dissonance</em> - like me.</div>
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This basically means that even after having made a decision, e.g. buying a hoover, and having taken into account every aspect of implications on your life it might have before making it, you can't help but question whether it was the right one, or if another hoover for the same price would might have done a better job.</div>
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What I'm getting at here is, that I have clearly spent hours and hours, if not years, deciding on which course to take, what to do with my life, which uni to attend, and still I find myself wondering, sometimes, if it would have been different somewhere else, and if it would have been a better kind of different.</div>
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There is obviously nothing wrong with my course choice. </div>
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Attending my modules, I realise everyday that this is pretty much it for me. I am excited about and want to work in the media industry, and I know it's competitive but I can't help it.</div>
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It's just that whenever people say this about a subject that's not medicine they get weird side glances.</div>
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But believe me, even if saving people's lives would give me utter fulfilment and I would've picked medicine, I would by now be asking myself if it was the right decision, even if I had "society's approval". (Regardless of the fact that I would look at my notes for chemistry or whatever science of the week and die in the process of trying to make sense of them.)</div>
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There is also absolutely nothing wrong with my uni.</div>
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I especially picked it because it's the top #1 uni in the UK for my kind of choice, and this reverberates from my lecturers. I once attended a lecture by an economics tutor at Globe College Munich, and I remember myself saying to my friend afterwards: "You know, I think it really doesn't matter what you study as long as you have lecturers who are as passionate and engaging as her."</div>
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And it's true. My lecturers and tutors are all brilliant, experienced in what they're teaching us and urging us to be as passionate about their subject as we are.</div>
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Yes, the common lecturer syndrome of forgetting that their course is not the only one that's being taught is still very much apparent, but who can blame them?</div>
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I rather have a lecturer like this than someone who looks in the eyes and says with a thin voice: "The sector of your study is dead." </div>
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Even my fellows are exactly... like I would have expected?</div>
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I mean, I obviously knew that it's neither possible nor desirable to be friends with each and everyone. It's just this little paranoia that comes up every so often, when you're convinced that everyone is already better friends with someone else, which leaves you excluded. (Usually<em> not</em> the case at all, by the way, but I think a few people can relate to that.) Especially when you never had to worry about making friends... for the last ten years or so.</div>
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And when these moments come, it's important to remember why you came to uni, that yes, you do have friends who are there for you anyway and well... cognitive dissonance might be a bit of a pain, but hey, this only means that you've already mastered the Critical Thinking they always expect you to engage with in your modules.</div>
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Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-52203548801767536052014-11-23T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T03:14:36.429-08:00British enthusiasm<div style="text-align: justify;">
Personally, I love me a good oxymoron, but saying that the title was one would be mean.</div>
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Because if there's one thing in the world I for some reason hold very dear to my heart, it's britishness.</div>
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I do realise that this doesn't really make much sense for the next person, and especially when looking at the foregone by-election I understand why people would start to question if "britishness" is such a good thing after all, but... If you look at how one of the most powerful countries in the world - well, the empire, really - could become such a lovely, quirky nation, that is most well-known for its fictional characters and knitting patterns, then sorry, I can't really find it in me not to love it.</div>
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And all of this, although I'm very rarely exposed to Brits in action. Which is why it is a little hard for me to describe what <em>it</em> is about Britain in detail, but bare with me, I'll try.</div>
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<strong>My exposures to 'proper Brits':</strong></div>
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My flatmate. There's the one who is just it. The one who cherishes tea like ambrosia and raises her eyebrows at my "caffeine addiction". (One cup of coffee a day is not the end of the world. I think.)</div>
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The one you can have chats about Remembrance and how cute the Queen is with. (The Queen is pretty cute though.) The one you'd always turn to if you just don' understand how something works in this country.</div>
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The old gent on the tube. There is literally always this one guy who reads the evening standard like it's the bible, or holds like it's his shield that will eventually prevent him from forming any kind of relation to anyone around him. This guy is usually around 50 and wears "the British cap". (Like the cabbie in the first Sherlock episode does. You know the likes. Just google British cap. Trust me.)</div>
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This one guy from my seminar who complains about everything. And the funny thing is, there's one in all of my seminars, although they're not the same person. I always thought Germans were bad when it came to complaining, and that a German person couldn't be happy until there was something off they could complain about. Now this is probably true - but this kind of British person can't <em>exist</em> without anything to complain about. I just dropped in a conversation once that I would consider working as a barista - and I got to hear the most hilarious 15 minute rant about snotty coffee drinkers<em>.</em></div>
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Which is why the certain characteristics I listed above are the only 'typically British things' I can think of at the moment, and probably the only ones you'll encounter when you choose to study here. I mean, sometimes you sense the much-rumoured traditionalism, but then again... isn't everyone at least a bit proud of where they came from?</div>
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And to come back to British enthusiasm - I always thought this to be an oxymoron.</div>
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That was clearly before I was introduced to the Great British Bake-Off.</div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-14634377029290244942014-11-20T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T00:12:01.699-08:00Growing Up 101<div style="text-align: justify;">
Let's be honest: The scariest thought about uni is not about the stuff you are going to be taught (I mean, most people do pick a subject they're passionate about, don't they?), it's about moving a way from home and suddenly having to manage a life without mummy to turn to.</div>
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And while I would say I'm doing quite well so far, I can also not stress enough how much I am looking forward to returning home and have three course meals (well, sometimes, I mean, it's Christmas) prepared for me, my laundry turning up fresh and clean in my room and the hoover available without having to turn my student ID in.</div>
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Because my parents are the best.</div>
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And I think, well, if I was living in a college that maybe was housing about 20 people, there were a lot of obstacles I wouldn't have to face, but here are some things you should be able to do on your own without having to consultant an adult first, before you consider moving away from home ultimately:</div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFfN6feY02WsGf1zNmK344BGcBYBASVrX3c_UUamAjqkinh9p7eKBzzjydSw4wGPist_wlu1nMm2wAmHrj8FXnuXEmKP1DiCDsh1StGySQyhPBw-7QgIcCpSMgsoKNCl8WmYeQc6uw1Al/s1600/tumblr_n858euQGJo1spmszio1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFfN6feY02WsGf1zNmK344BGcBYBASVrX3c_UUamAjqkinh9p7eKBzzjydSw4wGPist_wlu1nMm2wAmHrj8FXnuXEmKP1DiCDsh1StGySQyhPBw-7QgIcCpSMgsoKNCl8WmYeQc6uw1Al/s1600/tumblr_n858euQGJo1spmszio1_1280.jpg" height="286" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This chart from Esquire is also extreeeemly helpful.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<ol>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>How to work a laundry machine</em> : My personal favourite. Not just because my best friend was always raising her eyebrows at me for "being 18 and never having done my own laundry in my life", but also because it makes you feel like... such a proper adult when you hold your first bag of clean, warm, fresh smelling laundry in your hands. Figuring out how much washing liquid to use for which garments and why better not to put a bra in a tumble dryer definitely makes for less disappointment when you run out of clothing at some point of your first college weeks.</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>What can put a smile on your face when nothing else can </em>: Unfortunately not as self-explanatory as it seems, but... It's not just that you're finally flying the nest, it's also that your friends might as well be a bit far away and the people in your seminar can be weird and the amount of coursework/your new part-time job are a bit busy so when times get hard, it is better to already know what can help you. (Because believe me, they won't give you extra time to figure it out.)</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>How to live with a little less luxury than you're used to </em>: Okay, there are these guys who return home every weekend. But most of the students are living on a rather tight budget, and that means sometimes saying 'nope, sorry' to going out with friends, this new pair of jeans your mum would usually have paid for or even just this really delicious looking cupcake. This doesn't mean that life suddenly becomes joyless, it just means that spending money becomes a little less carefree. (And the child in you vanishes a little more. *sniff*)</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>How to cook your favourite meal</em> : Simply because no one else will do it for you and you can have cereal only so often before it makes you want to throw your bowl out of the window.</div>
</li>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>How much sleep you need. </em>Goes without saying.</div>
</li>
</ol>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<ol>
</ol>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-7670542867046313942014-11-17T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T00:11:24.199-08:00Recap, Rename, Repeat.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdkCLXpjhR-h7aREzKwyLon9H0szGF74b79G1MRzb2UC2ZXLA6U34FY4jHDnhSa_1SzyrnHfBwUsGeIU7nW8IsxTlrt1vv-IbSEcGFxktax0TnH2O0NDICfjtpUZim0W0UtqmfKcThfm5/s1600/IMG_20141115_134700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLdkCLXpjhR-h7aREzKwyLon9H0szGF74b79G1MRzb2UC2ZXLA6U34FY4jHDnhSa_1SzyrnHfBwUsGeIU7nW8IsxTlrt1vv-IbSEcGFxktax0TnH2O0NDICfjtpUZim0W0UtqmfKcThfm5/s1600/IMG_20141115_134700.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Greetings from London. The city that will forever fail to get my name right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
After my first weekend, I thought I was going to be alone on my course.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Everyone of my flatmates had met at least one person they were studying with, and I remember one occasion when we were hanging around the campus bar, where I was surrounded by about 20 Fashion students (there is Fashion Design, Buying and Merchandise, so it's not very surprising really), wondering "Is there... anyone doing PR <em>at all</em>?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
When I walked into the Lecture Theatre for the introduction before enrolment, I heard a voice from the back: "Anyone doing PR? PR? Hello?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Happy to meet a kindred spirit, I gave him a high-five and waited for the enrolment process to proceed.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Enrolling at uni is like all the other bureaucratic things in life: It's pretty simple and passes much faster than in all the worried thoughts you spent on it, but then again, it's always the simple things no one cares to explain.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm still struggling with what to reply on a "How're you?". Do I simply say "fine, thanks"? (Which is what I do most of the time?) And if I do so, am I somewhat socially required to ask back? </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And if I hold the door open for someone, do I have to say "you're welcome" after they thank me? Is this too formal? Does a "no problem" do it as well?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I just really don't want to appear rude, but I don't really think people will think much better of me if I just stand there, gaping like a fish at a loss for words. (Because that's what I sometimes do before smiling awkwardly and leaving.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
If middle school English classes would just focus on the small pleasantries in every day life, everyone would be much better prepared. (How was I supposed to know supermarket cashiers are required to make small talk with you? Now I always have to use the self checkout all the time because I have been wearing my "I hardly see how that's relevant to you."- face on more than one occasion while giving tight-lipped answers to the employees. The struggle.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But back to the topic. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the end, there were around 70 people taking my course, some enthusiastic about PR, others about Advertising, some simply wanted to go to uni and others didn't bother to show up until... week 5 or something. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This usually goes like this. Monday, 10.15 am, my tutor has already started.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The door opens a notch. A girl appears. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Hello...". She hesitates. "Is this <em>Introduction to Advertising</em>?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My tutor turns to her. "Yes, it is indeed. And you are? I mean, apart from 3 weeks late?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On this first day I also learned that introducing yourself with a self-picked nickname doesn't go down to well with tutors, as they are required to look you up in databases when grading you and if you have 200+ students, having to remember nicknames for each and every one of them tends to get a bit strenuous. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So my tutor asked me: "Well, what's your real name?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Henriette.", I said. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But with a German pronunciation. Or something that I believed to be the English pronunciation of my name. Something that sounds a bit like this: Han - ree - yet - a. (If you read them singularly but fast, you should get something that sounds close to the correct German pronunciation.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Now I didn't realise that the name "Henrietta" is far more common in Britain (obviously), and that if a British person was to pronounce my real name, the last e would be mute.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
All of this simply resulted in my tutor saving my name as "Henrietta" in the vast outskirts of her memory, addressing me like this in every e-mail she writes me, no matter how often I subtly sign it with "Sincerely, Henriette".</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Too subtle, perhaps.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This carried on:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I was elected course representative and had to change my name on the invitation forms, my rowing tutor thought I was French and when someone asks after my name, I try to mute the last e - but to no avail. It just won't stick.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Nevertheless, I had fun meeting new people, organising weekend trips and hanging around in other people's kitchens, strolling through London with awed eyes on the hunt for a NINo and listening to all these different languages being spoken around me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I mean, I had four different languages in school. And most of my friends took different languages than I did. But London is just a whole new level of linguistic exploration.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-33032541079103210852014-11-12T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T00:10:44.176-08:00cross country skype relationships and not the end of the world<div style="text-align: justify;">
Dear J,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday night you sent me a text: "Sometimes, i feel like an Idiot, because i should have realized what i was saying goodbye to really, i should have known better. Still, i swore that if there would be one single thing for me to Keep, it would be you."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I felt my heart in my throat and I got that stupid smile on my face again that I always get when I think about all the stupid stuff we have been though together, and replied with the only thing I knew to be true: "But that's the thing though: It was never good-byte. Not really"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What followed were embarrassing photos, some from the careless time we shared this summer, others from four winters back. It's amazing we still have them on our phone, although we probably never look at them (some of them are pretty cringeworthy, you have to admit.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I fell asleep with a smile on my face knowing that, "an ocean away", just like Benjamin Gibbard sings in <em>Shepherd's Bush Lullaby</em>, the first song on the mistake I made you before I went to London, your day was still in full swing and you probably took a break from work to giggle at your phone just as much as I did.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have to admit, it feels weird having to arrange a specific time to see you.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It used to be so natural, I would show up at your doorstep with a hot chocolate and drag you out of your room when you were loosing your nerves over your biology homework and you texting me in the middle of night would mean I would get to <em>see </em>you in five minutes, if I just opened the door.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But I don't see myself getting annoyed at having to stay up an extra hour just to see your face smiling up at me from my laptop. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
First of all, I get to catch up with "How To Get Away With Murder" like that once a week.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And more importantly, you are simply worth it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Long distance relationships are portrayed as something doomed to go wrong in romantic comedies.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Long distance relationships are the one thing you never even <em>attempt</em>.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But I don't think I spent a single day breathing without thinking about you, and if it is just passing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And it's never a depressing thought about how much I miss you.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Because yes, of course, I do, it would make things a 1000% better if I could turn around in bed and just see your calm, sleeping face, but this doesn't mean that things aren't good as they are.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Most of the time I just think about something I know we will talk about when we see each other again, or wonder what you could be doing right now. If I get particularly curious, I text you.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And when I see you again in 6 weeks, it will be like we've never been apart.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's something I know in my bones to be true.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It will just be like a slightly longer summer holiday, one that is packed with a few more stories than usual, one that required a bit more time to be made up for.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I dragged you along for the ride, and so did you.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It is possible if you really want to.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Some people just stay with you. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
All along the way.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I miss you. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But I will let anyone afraid to leave their loved ones behind know that it's bearable.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Love, H.</div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-20669508878577569602014-11-09T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T00:10:12.594-08:00the why<div style="text-align: justify;">
+++ ALERT: This is not a post to fuel existentialistic philosophical debate. +++</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
That said, I decided to make a post why I chose to study in London in particular, a task rather closely link to my coursework for Advertising at the moment, which, behold, I am not going to ramble on about.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So. London.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
First of all, it has always been a dream of mine. Whenever someone asked me "top ten things you want to do before you die?" or some equally generalised question, 'living in London for a certain amount of time', was always one of the top ranks on my list.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
(Usually competing with 'learn to speak five languages fluently' and 'trick the world into thinking you possess magic'.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sounds like a legitimate reason, but I am aware that this doesn't make me anything close to unique or god forbid <em>special</em>, because this point is literally on every second teenager's bucket list.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But coming to London felt just like fulfilling a purpose to me:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
English is my favourite language on this planet. (I haven't started learning Japanese yet.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have a soft spot for quirky traditionalism while at the same time craving a diverse environment.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I need people to open my eyes to new things. I need to feel small in front of old buildings sometimes. I need to feel special in a crowd from time to time. I really prefer to blend in mostly, though.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
London was everything and nothing, it's modern while still holding the draw it had under the Empire.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is no place like it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I discover a new part of the city every week, but I could never say whether I would prefer Camden over Shoreditch, Mayfair over Belgravia, Kew over Southwark. It just all blends together in my head and makes for an all-encompassing picture that won't leave me so fast.</div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-48240038164968791732014-11-06T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T00:09:18.031-08:00Flatmates.<div style="text-align: justify;">
<em>Sunday morning, 14/09/14</em></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I walk into the kitchen, having just bought a bunch of bananas and hoummous from the local Sainsbury's. There is someone in the kitchen. A girl on her phone.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Because I didn't plan on vegetation lonely in my room, I walk in and start filling whatever little space is left in the fridge.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Oh hi! Are you the new girl?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I smile introducing myself, sliding in the seat opposite her while she finishes her lunch. Although anything with beans might be a British breakfast. Let's just say brunch.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"So when did you get here? I didn't see you all day yesterday!"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Well...", I start, "that's probably because I arrived literally in the middle of the night. The people at the reception desk down there were nearly asleep, just handing me my keys and shoving a 'college survival box' into my hands and that was it."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Why would you come in the middle of the night?", she asks.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"Booked the Eurostar three months in advance?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At least she seems excited at the prospect of living together with someone from Germany. And is apparently not a football fan. Which is a big plus this year.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Soon enough I get dragged to another one of my flatmates' room, where we talk about all the things easy to talk about - school, food, movies. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's not hard. And I strangely feel like being in boarding school again.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Later that day, my final flatmate arrives, making the artsy feeling of our flat complete:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There is a fashion design, advertising, radio production and now a photography student starting uni this year, although there are also to girls from China studying Business at a different campus, who were assigned a room on ours.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thanks to shops being open on Sunday ("Wait, shops aren't open on Sunday in Germany? When do you guys go shopping?"), my flatmates and I soon hit the local mall, exploring this weird adulty feeling of being able to buy whatever we want to, but on the other hand having to budget with however much money we brought with us.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
There's more to come, I can feel it, I feel comfortable with these people, but in the evening I still go to bed early. Whoever has once gone abroad and switched their minds to a different language might know the feeling of exhaustion that creeps in after a few hours.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's like wanting to say: "Hey! I know English! I can understand everything perfectly <em>fine</em>!" but you just grow tired far too early, because your brain just isn't adjusted to it and wants to rest now, please.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So rest I did.</div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-25363819289246385642014-11-03T00:00:00.000-08:002014-11-24T00:08:37.088-08:00"It's so hard to leave - until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world."<div style="text-align: justify;">
The first two weeks of September were filled with excitement. Or was it anxiety?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I can't really be sure, I just know that I had refused to worry about any Uni related scenarios all summer, partly because I still had to wait for my student finance letter, but quite actually more because I was working a near fulltime job with my friends and wanted to spend my summer with them.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So when I arrived back home on the first of September, reality started to kick in reaaaally slowly: "Oh. I'm leaving the country in 13 days. Should I panic?"</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The answer to that was mostly "...nah.", but I can remember the days sitting in front of my laptop and refreshing my inbox because I was waiting for the guy from the translation company I had a sent a copy of my school certificate to to finish his lunch break and write me back.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I remember making last second visits to places in my hometown in the middle of the night, meeting again with friends, as if catching up before anyone leaves has ever done anybody any good, generally enjoying myself but also experiencing a weird feeling of displacement:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Being at home didn't really feel right, I was supposed to be out there, exploring the world, but leaving home seemed even worse sometimes. Why would I give up something that was so all-encompassingly <em>comfortable</em>?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, in the end it took me about a week to pack my suitcase, and when I finally pulled the zipper shut, it felt odd that my whole life should fit into roughly half a cubic metre.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I don't know how often I actually checked if my documents were all in the right place, but I had the worst nightmare the night before I actually had to leave:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am at Frankfurt Main Central station, looking for a coffee to get somewhere, when I realised that I had left my bag (as in, the bag that contained my ticket, my passport, my enrolment forms, in short everything that identified me as a human being) on the train. So I start running towards the rail my train stopped on, hoping to miraculously find it to be still there, all the while dragging along my suitcase that keeps bumping into people and slowing me down.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I can't remember ever feeling so relieved to wake up.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On Saturday, September 13, everything is like it's supposed to be.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I like to think everyone experiences it like this, but I could be wrong: </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Do you know, how in films or books, when a significant change or a long travel is going to happen to the protagonist, one they have planned for a long time to come, they always get up and do this one last meaningful thing, and if it is staring at their reflection in the mirror, thinking deep thoughts?</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, none of this ever happens to me.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's like some part of my brain knows that it should be excited or worried about <em>this really crazy change that is supposed to happen in just two hours and oh my god you have wanted this for so long get excited already man</em>, but I am generally just baffled how life is still about the mundane things like having breakfast and brushing your teeth, and nothing meaningful happens, just because it feels like it should. (At least a little.)</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So my parents and my brother drive me to the station... Oh right, I forgot to tell you about this!</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am, apparently, always very intent to do things <em>differently</em> (at least that's what my father would claim and where he's probably very right) so I didn't opt for the easy and "mainstream" way of booking a flight to Heathrow, no, I decided to buy a Eurostar ticket three months in advance, because it was cheaper.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Well, it was cheaper.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But it also takes 12 hours.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I will forever be grateful that my parents have not made one snide remark about it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I like taking the train, it's a boarding school thing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And it's only when I've found my seat, plug in my headphones with a startling realisation that my phone is not going to live for the whole duration of the ride, that my heart suddenly starts beating faster and the hormones in my head scream: This is it. You just flew the nest.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not going to describe these 12 super uneventful hours of taking a train to London, and I wouldn't really recommend it to anybody, but in the end, I'm very glad that I did, because these 12 hours were "transitioning time", a time in which I was caught in a little bubble of freedom.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
This feeling is - once again - very hard to describe, but I saved a diary entry from somewhere in Belgium, trying to make clear of my thoughts:</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sort of want to know
where I am rather badly.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s what runs through my head half an hour after I’ve
turned off the mobile data roaming of my phone and gaze outside the train
window, overlooking small and sunny towns in the Belgian countryside. The men’s
voice from the speaker has changed to French as well. Now Dutch. <br />
I know I’m gifted with a vast knowledge in certain languages, but I stay
comically oblivious to which station we’re arriving at next, due to my complete
lack of understanding what he just announced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Does that make me feel
lonely know? Abandoned?</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I guess it could. And some time ago, it definitely would
have.<br />
(I just realised I didn’t even send a good-bye text to everybody who might have
wanted one when I still had the chance. Now I’m on my own.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And knowing there’s a whole new world waiting for me on the
other side of the Channel, I can’t even start to deny the queasy feeling
starting to bloom in the region of my upper stomach, but it’s not anxiety.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s a revelation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m a blank page at the moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There’s no going back from here, and what is about to happen
is solely up to me. Every person I’m going to meet will have had no former
impression of me, the image they are going to have of me is solely shaped by
me. I’m at one of the few points in my life at which I’m able to completely
redefine what that means – <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">me</b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And
now I’m going to hop off the train and cherish it.</span></div>
</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
So at the lovely security check in Brussels, that is far to easy to pass as a harmless looking (white) girl, a guy helps me handle my suitcase, realising we're both German.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
"So you're going on vacation as well?", he asks.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I duck my head and give an apologetic smile: "Nope. Off to uni, actually."</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's nice having somebody to talk to in this weird place, and I'm surprisingly not disappointed that it isn't in English - there will be a time for making friends in a different language, but today is not it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Unfortunately, his seat is at the other end of the train, but I'm not sad for long, because next to me they have placed an old English gent, a history professor from the books he's reading, who starts pointing out London monuments to me once we enter the city.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
To be honest, I didn't even realised we were crossing the channel at some point. Why? Because it's pitch black outside.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I keep my doubt about Downing Street being somewhere out there in the dark to myself, however, because he is nice and if he's mocking me, then it's in a nice way.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
The dumb grin that starts to spread on my face, you know, the one that is usually reserved to pregnant women and boys with a crush, is real though. It's coming from somewhere deep inside.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And when I finally arrive in London at about half nine, the proper feeling of giddy excitement is still not quite there, just this slight buzz of contentment.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Which could steer from the rising level of exhaustion. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
But I'm there. I made it.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
People around me are talking <em>English</em>. Proper BBC English. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I will take the tube, just like a proper Londoner.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And where? To my new <em>home</em>.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://giphy.com/embed/HfDehYOWEkR8s?html5=true" style="height: 191px; width: 248px;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="480"></iframe> <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="288" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://giphy.com/embed/e56O95YVKYqWI?html5=true" style="height: 162px; width: 274px;" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="480"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
(Gifs from giphy, quote in the headline is from John Green's <em>Paper </em>Towns)</div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7842513250990065922.post-913228911272916262014-10-31T11:26:00.000-07:002014-11-24T00:07:52.684-08:00London CallingOh hi, you have found your way to my UCAS blog!<br />
<br />
This is the place where I store all the little and bigger happenings occurring to me in my enticing life as a London student.<br />
From that sentence alone it was probably deduceable that I'm doing a Bachelor in PR & Advertising, but I'm just saying it again.<br />
<br />
I'm also very sorry that I can only start posting in September, but I took notes over the last month, so I will give you an insight into my full student experience, including the first few weeks, which are weird for everyone, let's face.<br />
<br />
So tonight, just a few facts about me so you know who you'll have to deal with:<br />
My name is Henriette, I'm nearly 19 years old (10 days to go!) and I moved from my hometown in Germany to London seven weeks ago.<br />
English has always been my favourite subject in school, probably because of my weak spot for well-written drama and literature, so at some point I just decided to make my dream of spending at least some time of my life as an actual "Londoner" come true a bit sooner rather than later.<br />
I went to a boarding school - great times - and will probably get a bit nostalgic from time to time when I compare college to it ;)<br />
I like small everyday adventures, libraries, coffee, the smell of efficiency and deciding which earrings to put on in the morning. (I've got five holes for them in my ears.)<br />
My favourite animal is the fox, I wish I was born left-handed, when I was younger I always wanted to be a TV presenter or a gynaecologist (I've no idea where that came from), I know not just one, but two dead languages (Latin AND Ancient Greek) and of course I'm in Slytherin. ;)<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I hope that's enough for you to go on for now,</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I will now let you go into the night on this lovely Halloween night (although we've only got half moon) with a classic Halloween song performed by Panic! At The Disco and promise to be back by Monday.</div>
<br />
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Enjoy!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Henriette x</div>
Henriettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05852054052106002148noreply@blogger.com0