9.8.08

Denial, it Be Shrinking

Possibly because of the drought.

No, that's a really bad pun. My denial is actually shrinking because it has now become time to actually start thinking like a real grown-up person who is moving out of the country. Over the last twenty-four hours, information about my student visa, my accommodation (read: dorm room) and my semester schedule has come pouring in.

And may I just take a break and say getting a student visa is a job and a half. I don't know if it has always been such a pain in the butt or if everyone is all freaked out about terrorists or what, but they want more paperwork and qualifications than a new job and the DMV put together. It is ridiculous. (Real, honest-to-God questions: please describe your education history, starting from the age of 11. And then they pop out and ask, "Are you a terrorist?" Who the hell answers yes to that? What the hell good is it? Plus, I need my boss to write and sign a statement saying that I actually do work there, in addition to me bringing in my salary slips. Fox Mulder thinks you are too paranoid, people.) It is a huge pain and I loathe it. Loathe, loathe, loathe, I am almost tempted to compose a sonnet about how much I loathe it, but that would be giving them too much attention and also probably they would secretly research my blog and deny me my visa out of spite.

If you are the British Consulate in the US, um, psych! Just kidding! You're my favorite office this side of the DMV! Kisses!

On the plus side, I got my first choice out of the dorms -- it be cheap, AND it have internet. Hurray! Plus, you know, laundry and kitchen and stuff. It also looks pretty ridiculously tiny, but whatever -- like I'll care what my square footage is when I'm reading my Shakespeare.

I don't have my finalized schedule ("timetable," whatever) yet, but I have found out some of the classes I'll be taking. And whee! Very, very exciting. Obviously.

Still, all this info is making the whole happy-denial thing tough. And I was totally counting on Happy Denial; now that I do not have it to fall back on I am stuck in Scared And Stressed. Scared of going back abroad, stressed about what a huge pain-in-the-ass it is to go back abroad.

Oh, England. You and your theater. Damn your siren call.

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