England, day 8; Legacy, day 11,070

I'm starting to think that I want every life I see that isn't my own. How much greener could I really expect that other grass to be? Do you know what I've unexpectedly done since I've been here? Set up appointments with two separate professors at two separate universities, and possibly a third, in order to meet and discuss possible research topics. Do you know what I did when I was in my MA? Counted down the days until it was all over and I could break into publishing. Do you know who has't been working in publishing lately? Please picture thumbs pointing at my chest, because it's this one right here. Do you know who said they wouldn't do a PhD? Yup, the same troubled chest-pointer you're reading about.

When I was in Calgary I thought just get through whatever I'm doing and wherever I am and then the adventure will start. When I went to Nanaimo I thought, just get through what I'm doing now and I'll start to really hit my stride. The pieces will fall into place. When I went to Edmonton I thought, just get over this here and it will finally start to pay off. When I left the city I thought, ok here we go. In the country I thought, nothing to do here but be with my books and my thoughts and my notepaper. Now I think, nothing to do here, period. Now I think, get to the largest, busiest city and the most intense university I can find. Get me anywhere but here.

I miss Calgary, I miss Nanaimo, I miss Edmonton, I miss London, I miss everywhere but here and now. I miss feeling like whatever I decide to do, I can't miss.

I've also been thinking, and this is some seriously pathetic "priviledged-people-problems" right here, I've been thinking that I have allowed my incredibly supportive family to be an excuse for me. I've spent a lifetime surrounded by people who say I should go for it, and I think I've been afraid of frustrating them. Not disappointing them. I hate when people say that. If your family loves you then it's hard for them to be disappointed in you. But like I often say, I am always beginning the first day of the rest of my life, and I expect if I say I want to do something one day and then change my mind it's probably pretty exhausting for the people who are waiting in the wings to support me. Seriously, how ridiculous does that sound? Because it sounds pretty ridiculous just typing it. But there it is.

The one thing I feel certain about is that I don't know what I want, and I will probably change my mind. How can I exist like that in a world of loving and living people?
I'm excited about meeting with these professors, but I'm not making any plans. How can I? There's all this wishing and hoping and thinking and praying and planning and dreaming, but there's still that living thing I've got to do. If I can just get through what I'm doing and where I am then...what?

Shit just got real...shitty. But I'm in England, so there's that.

The middle of August, right before I turned 30, I posted a highly optomistic fun post about the advice I would like the older me to give the younger me. Since then, things have happened that the younger me couldn't possibly begin to imagine, and the "older" me is not prepared for.

I don't want to let my dirty laundry blow in the internet airwaves. As much as I'm an open book, I'm not a tabloid. At least I hope I'm not. But some things I will disclose because I feel compelled to write about them.

On August 28 my sister Jordan passed away from a car accident while vacationing in Jamaica. I don't wish that sort of shock and pain on anyone in the world. Jordan was honest, courteous, fun, intriguing, brilliant, kind, beautiful, creative, compassionate, adventurous, she was someone for whom you could ask yourself, what would Jordan do, and if you followed that answer, things would be just fine. Things don't glimmer as brightly as they did three months ago. And the most painful part of it all is if she knew the sort of pain that her passing set off, she would be so unhappy about it. She made everyone feel better, and right now things feel, well, they're tough—really tough.

Oh Jordan, I wish you could tell me what to do.

I've also been going through a...what is it...a 30-year-old identity crisis maybe? A post-graduation depression? A "really,-this-is-where-I-am-now?" state of mind? I've got questions for myself that I really don't know how to answer, and at the risk of starting to throw all that dirty laundry up in the air, I've never felt so low.

So, I did the most extreme thing I could think of. I ran away to England for a couple weeks to visit a dear friend. She's going to university in Durham where she studies in a World Heritage Site. Yup, my friends, Anna goes to university in a bonafide castle.
She took me to the cathedral and into the cathedral library. Things that are on my bucket-list: spend more time in castles and do research in a cathedral library.
The Durham Cathedral is where the English historian, Bede, is entombed. I will never stop loving the relics of history. Sure it's morbid, but bring on the dead!

We spent a bit of time in one of the student pubs in the 15th century section of the castle. Apparently the kitchens are in the 12th century part of the castle and are the oldest operating kitchens in England—no big deal. We also went to an amazing bookshop called Barters Books in Alnwick. It's where the "Keep Calm and Carry On" poster was discovered.

I'm here for twelve more days, and in that time I will continue to blog, clear my head, think about what I want and, I don't know. Of course being here, near a university, nearly jobless and lost, I can't stop thinking about a PhD. When things get hard that's what I do. I run back to the harsh but oddly comforting arms of academia.
Oh Jordan, wherever you are, I sure could use your reasonable mind right now.