I wanted to study abroad because I am feckless, and I wanted to study in London because I am a snob. I am an English major, which is a polite way of saying I will be unemployed in a year and a half. It’s not that having an English degree does not prepare one for a long and satisfying career, but I’m not one of those people who see Law school as a viable option, and I’ve considered graduate school but am wary of jumping into another degree program so soon after graduation. In short, I lack direction and this lack of direction has made me feckless. I have decided that the best cure for this fecklessness is to study abroad. I may love the path I’m on, but right now it’s not leading anywhere. Choosing to stray from it for a semester may not serve any purpose, but at least it will be a change of scenery. The next question to ask is why did I choose to study in London? The answer is simple: snobbery.
I am a snob about two things: literature and New York, and moving to London for the semester satisfies both of these prejudices within me. My literary snobbery takes the form of preferring all things British to all things American. After three years of studying English I have still not taken a single American lit class, and although it is occasionally tempting to pick up Faulkner or James, no one from my native country can touch Austen, Bronte or Woolf, my personal favorite authors (Yes, I know I’m such a girl!). I wanted to travel to England to study their authors because I hoped that by getting closer to places where they lived and wrote I could somehow better understand the way they thought and thus achieve a deeper understanding of their work. Is this silly? Probably. What can I get from the pages of Mrs. Dalloway on the banks of the Thames that I can’t get on the banks of the Hudson? Not much, but coming here is a form of pilgrimage for me never the less. I am here to pay homage to these people who have been the only true gods of my agnostic life.
Of course, my literary reasons for going abroad left me the whole of England to choose from, and it may have made more sense to go to Oxford or Cambridge which would have deeper literary roots and be much more stereotypically British, but going to school in New York City has made me realize that I can’t function outside of a big city, and my definition of big city has become very limited due to my New York snobbery. When I came home to Baltimore after my first semester in New York I remember I couldn’t get to sleep because I missed the traffic sounds outside my window. Hence I chose London, a place that I hope will contain enough loud street noises, as well as cultural attractions, to keep me sane for an entire semester.
Perhaps coming here was a bad idea, I miss my friends and family already, but I have a shrewd suspicion that things will only get better. My mom arrives in a couple days and as the jet lag wears off I’m becoming more and more familiar with London, which is an amazing city. The home sickness mingles with anticipation, and I look forward to whatever is to come.
Thanks for logging on, stay tuned!

literature