Deep introspection.

I don't really remember exactly when I posted last, but I can pretty much guarantee that I haven't gone out and done anything exciting since then. That's not to say that I've been totally idle though. I've been doing a lot of thinking, actually. This is going to be one of those posts that helps me sort out some thoughts and doesn't really do anything for you guys, so, sorry. I'm using this as an actual blog as opposed to a travel one right at this moment. Meaning, feelings more than narrative events.
First, what I've actually physically done recently: nothing besides going to a party last night. And watching lots and lots of Bones and NCIS. Also, looking at the puppies currently up for adoption in the LA area right now. Basically, forcibly manipulating my heartstrings. The Christmas episode of Bones actually made me cry, but that's neither here nor there.
So, yesterday, Jerry (a guy that works for the management company from which the Awesome [what I've just now decided to call next year's apartment, for obvious reasons] is being rented) was supposed to fax me a copy of our lease to sign. I set it up with Jonathan, one of the other SC students here, so that I could use his fax machine and would pick up the lease from his place at 9pm and then go to a party that one of his friends was having. I walked to the dorm where he lives, in tempest-grade winds I might add, only to have him tell me that the lease had never come through. Jonathan is slightly awkward, at best, so I don't think it ever crossed his mind to let me know this before I walked all the way over there, but whatever. The party was in the dorm, because things like that are allowed here. We got there and FOB was playing and beer pong with Corona was occurring. I should probably say that this was a "surf" themed party. So of course, I felt right at home. Over the course of the night, which was really only three and a half hours, Jonathan and I became reigning beer pong champions by winning 3 games. More importantly, though, I met the Canadian version of me. Her name is Alysha, and she's an ANTH major. We talked about a lot of stuff that I've had on my mind lately, because it's been on hers too. Basically, I have a huge girl-crush on myself. Anyway. We also proceeded to finish off a partial bottle of Grey Goose, so go us.
But yeah, the stuff that's been on my mind is life. More specifically, the real world vs. academia. I know, I'm a junior, and it's way too early for this crisis, but since basically everyone that I know is now facing/has just faced it, mine is being prematurely precipitated. That, and it's really all I ever think about. My concerns are two-fold, really, with lots and lots of little creases.
Concern #1 goes something like this: I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I know what I like. I know what I believe. I know what my weaknesses are. I don't know how all of those things are going to work towards my happiness in employment. I worry that I'm only working toward a career in museums/arts administration because it sounds cool to say. I could be the young, hip professional arbiter of taste that I can't be in my personal life, for a variety of reasons. When I really think about it though, that isn't so much what I want. Yes, I love art. That one fact is completely undeniable. But, I hate the economics of art. I hate pretending that taste is something that should be qualified and commodified. I know, I'm discounting entire fields of intensive study by tremendously interesting scholars (hello, Kant), but it just sort of makes me feel sick. Erin and I argue about this occasionally, as my view is idealistic and naive and hers is grounded in solid communication theory, but for both music and art I am a proponent of basically socialist, corporation-free realms. Impossible, blah blah blah, not my point. My point is, really, that I don't know if I can buy into the institutions of art. Sell my soul to the Man, if you will. I think museums are valuable resources, in that they have the potential to expose a lot of people to a lot of really important cultural productions, but I have a million tiny problems with the whole system. These million tiny problems (concerning things like ownership and struggles over repatriation and private vs. subsidized and having to pay to see objects that should belong to all of us) add up to a possibly insurmountable issue for me. The good that museums do is so intellectually specific and so clouded by the way that we've chosen, as a society, to run them.
Ultimately, I love art, but not the art world. And I've been thinking about this in terms of what else I could do that would be less morally compromising for me. There are tons of jobs that one can get with a liberal arts degree, completely outside the realm of art etc. But if I don't want to work in art, what else do I care about? Nothing. This is another crease of this problem. It is art, and only art, about which I am deeply passionate.
This leads me directly to Concern #2. If I love art so much, why not just become an academic? Write about art, in my own way, forever. Be free to study art/people interactions, which is what makes up the bulk of my interest. Because I don't know if I can do it. The thought of grad school is kind of making me panic at this moment. My entire life, I've had my sights set on eventually getting a Ph.D and being Dr. Lynch. There aren't any of those in my family. I know, though, that to do that would require at least 3 more years of schooling- 1 for a master's, and 2 more to write a doctoral thesis, defend it, etc. Technically, I could skip the master's and go right into a Ph.D. program, focusing on my chosen topic. Problem there is, I can't even fathom being able to choose a topic for intensive research any time soon. Also, I like the idea of a taught master's, because it would enable me to get a more solid practical foundation, something that an art history degree doesn't provide. I would get my master's in something like museum studies or public art, actually qualifying me to work in the art world. And then, maybe, I would have more of a focus for my eventual thesis. But maybe not.
Like the art world, I have a million small problems with this route. Mostly, I'm tired of this life. I don't know how much more research I can do before I lose all interest in everything. I feel like the number of papers that I have left in me is quickly becoming so small that just my BA might do me in. Especially if I plan on writing an honors thesis next year, which I do. And I can't even begin to imagine what I'm going to write that on, though Roman Britain looms large in my mind right now. The other problem with the academic life is money. More specifically, I don't have any. I'm living a life of self-denial, and it's destroying my will to do anything. I can't go out to eat when I want to. I can't buy all of the clothes that I'd like to have. I can't live a life of idle luxury haha. But really, it's too constrictive for me. I would be more than happy to live out the rest of my life in a shack in the woods, as I keep threatening. But that's not a feasible option right now. I would still need to be able to travel sometimes if I did that, and I don't have the savings necessary for that venture. The need to travel comes from another deep-seated issue, that being my wanderlust. I can't stay in one place forever. I hate making new friends, but it's emotionally easier than getting tired of my surroundings. My issues are varied and terrible, let me tell you.
What that all comes down to is this: I think I am going to need to take AT LEAST a year off after my BA. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do, but right now, staying in LA and trying out museum work doesn't seem terrible. I can then decide how much my soul is going to cost and if I have the emotional strength to go back to a life of research and deprivation. A master's only takes a year, two part-time, so I think, in all likelihood, I will get one. Whether or not I can stop after that, I don't know. I have to evaluate my reasons for wanting a Ph.D. Mostly, I think, it's a selfish, shallow thing. Does getting a Ph.D. make me a better person? Nope. Will it help me make the world a better place? Nope. Really, then, is it worth what it's going to cost me (mentally and economically)? I don't need to decide that right now.
Of course, I'm going to apply for all of the fellowships/scholarships that I can next year. I think most of them can be deferred for a year anyway, so it couldn't hurt. And hell, who wouldn't want to be a Rhodes' Scholar? I'm as good as Bill Clinton, at least.
Now we get to the really crazy part of all this personal reflection- my alternate job choice, should museum work really be as terrible as I fear it might be. I am seriously, SERIOUSLY considering the possibility of becoming an FBI agent. I know, completely and totally ridiculous. Almost out of character for me, even, but only if you don't know me and where I come from. My father is a retired police officer. He became a police officer because he wanted to help people, and every other job that he'd tried failed to make him happy. Basically, I am beginning the long road of following in his unsatisfied footsteps. I don't really think of being an FBI agent as working for the Man, though it is basically the pinnacle of "Man-ness." The CIA, on the other hand, is totally working for the Man. The draw of the FBI is, as my Facebook status says, the art crimes division. I would have plenty of excuses to see the world, I'm sure, while still being able to feel that I am doing some Good and making the world, and the art world, a better place. This really does fit into my belief in art being for everyone, as I would be mostly trying to catch people who remove art from the public realm in order to sell it (for great economic gain) into the private realm. I'd be like the Robin Hood of hippie federal agents. Yes, I really and truly can justify anything. But I'd at least have a stable income and job security and the ability to move around a lot. Downsides, of course, being the need to get in serious shape before I can even think of Quantico and the possibility of being shot at all the time. I firmly believe that being a Special Agent in the FBI is approximately 4,000 times cooler than being a doctor in some obscure field of art history, though. And more socially conscious.
What's really funny about all that, and ties back to Alysha, is that she feels exactly the same way. Except, instead of becoming an FBI agent, she's looking into becoming a Mountie. I'm not even kidding. I think we're going to have lunch later this week, so we can continue to be awesome together.
If you read all that, you now know more about my psyche than anybody else in the world, basically. Congratulations. Now go do something constructive.

- C

Getting out and doing shit.

The last few days have been incredibly active, as far as me actually going out and doing stuff goes. You'd all be so proud. No riots or anything though, I leave that to you. I'll do a rundown of this by day, so we'll see what I can remember:
Thursday: I went to class etc etc. That night, I went to the first meeting of the Water of Life Society for this semester. That's the university whiskey (Scottish spelling: whisky) appreciation society, for those that I haven't mentioned it to yet. It was incredibly fun and extremely informative. I met a couple of other American students, so it didn't end up just being me, awkwardly sitting by myself. That was cool. We tried 5 different whiskeys, of varying types (though all Scotch) and got information about each of them. So I've tried 7 different whiskeys since getting here, though damned if I remember all of their names. Not too shabby. After the meeting, I tagged along to a bar and then a night club with the other Americans. They're with one of the big, multi-school study abroad programs, so it ended up being a fairly large group of people. Completely different than the USC abroad experience.
Friday: Went grocery shopping, as I was out of everything. That night was a Burns Night supper/ceilidh at the church I've started going to. Tremendous amount of fun. I tried haggis for the first time; it's actually quite good. All of the traditions and trappings that go along with Burns Night are also something incredible to behold. It's a meal where there's never a dull moment. I'm tempted to have my own version next year, but I don't know how successful I'd be at getting people to try haggis. I'll have to discuss this with Kate later. The dancing would also be a problem, as I don't know any Scottish dances. Though, I did do a few last night. No lie, I danced. With a lot more practice, I could be a pretty decent Scottish dancer I think. It wasn't at all hard once I got the hang of it. Though I guess it does help that the person that I was mostly dancing with was spectacularly good. After that, which ended at like 11:15, I went back to the Scottish economist's flat for Mah Jong and whiskey. And ended up staying there until 3am, just like last time. It's becoming a weekend habit. I'll be a Mah Jong master by the time I get home.
Today: I woke up at 10, which was disturbingly early for the time that I actually went to bed, and took a trip out to Rosslyn Chapel with the girl that I met from USC. It's about a 45 minute ride on a public bus from here, so no big hassle to get to at all. It was absolutely incredible. The chapel and the surrounding hills and valleys are just gorgeous. And it's made about 100x cooler by the fact that my dad's a Freemason (yeah, yeah secret society shut up), so I know a lot of the lore and symbolism involved in the carvings and the chapel itself. It's somewhere that I've wanted to go for a long, long time. After that, we had lunch in this adorable hotel right near the castle, and it was delicious and warm. The warm aspect of food is incredibly important with the normal weather here. Then, I came home, watched four or five more episodes of the new Doctor Who (totally addicted) and did laundry. Now, I think I might call home.
Also, if anyone's wondering why I don't really talk about feelings in this blog (not that you would be, but might as well address it), it's because it's so easy to find, really. Like, I have no problem talking about my general impressions of stuff, mostly how I'm feeling, etc., but mostly I'm focused on what I've actually, physically been doing. I don't want to talk about the crazy boring emotional stuff in a blog that's so out in the open, on my facebook profile and all. Also, I was going to give this address to my parents, so they could keep track of me. I haven't, for various reasons (like you guys making references to my reputation as a drunken slut etc) [kidding], but that kept me from actually treating this like my other blog as well. I have this thing where I only put on a brave face for them, regardless of how I'm actually feeling. It's dumb, as they're my family, and they, more than anybody else, should get to know when I'm terrified/lonely/homesick/falling apart or whatever, but that's not how I operate. I think crying in front of my dad when I realized that I wasn't going to be able to make the situation with my visa work was the most embarrassing thing that has happened to me in recent memory. And yes, I mean that, despite whatever else may have happened within the space of this last semester. I have serious problems, I know.
Now that I've broken the "no feelings" rule (aside: however the previous may make it sound, I am completely and totally content, I love this place and these people), let's move on to Heath Ledger. I am totally heart-broken about his death. I was going to marry him, somehow. Not even lying. I had a total delusion about that. It would have been one of my 3 wishes if I ever came across a genie. And his death was sort of like the death of my childhood, in one of those stupid, symbolic ways. But yeah, that's neither here nor there. But I do really appreciate the eulogy that Joel McHale of The Soup said for Heath, so I think I'll end this post with that. Something reasonable, one good guy talking about another:




True class.

- C

Adventures of the religious sort.

Okay, so here's the thing: as much as I am a non-believer, church is a comfortable place for me. I know what to expect, generally, I know what's going to happen next and what the people will be like. And when I say church, I mean the Episcopal church. I was raised going to church on Sundays and major religious holidays. I was an acolyte and then a lay reader, I was baptised and confirmed in my grandmother's church of choice (Church of the Atonement, a tiny congregation in the town where she was born all of a million years ago). Church is safe. I even enjoy church, at certain times of the year/when I'm in certain moods. Lent/the Easter season is my favorite. Like spring, it's all about rebirth and making things new- a fresh start, if you will. So, while here, I've decided to go to church, as I was saying.
Most of the reason that I don't attend services in the US, besides the part where I'm way too busy/tired on most Sundays to bother and the fact that I don't have a car, is because religion in the US terrifies me. People who go to church regularly are becoming more and more the type of person that lives for religion. I'm not interested in that. I think that it makes people one-dimensional and boring, in addition to making them ignorant of most other things that make up a life worth living. Not everybody, but yeah, my feelings on all things religious are well known.
Here, it's much different. Religion isn't about abstaining from things and depriving yourself of worldly pleasures and not enjoying your time on earth. Religion, like everything else in Scotland, is fun. With that said, I went to a young persons' group meeting for the church that I'm planning on attending last night. The meeting was at a pub and was really just a small group of people who were willing to make me feel welcome. We talked about "church" for approximately 5 minutes the entire night. Other than that, we talked about everything else under the sun. While drinking. After the pub, we decided to go to CC Bloom's, which happens to be a gay nightclub. Yeah. Everyone's welcome in the Episcopal church. At I don't even know what o'clock, I left the nightclub with a girl named Alice, and Tom, an economist (ahaha) who are both in their mid to upper 20s. We went back to Tom's flat for "coffee" which actually ended up being a bottle of wine and some scotch (my first woo). I haven't been so drunk in a long, long while. I don't actually remember going to bed, though I do remember walking home.
Anyway, Tom's flat is in New Town, which is the other side of town. It's very wealthy, as well. Imagine the type of townhouse where you would expect to see a rich Victorian family, and that's Tom's flat. The person who owns it is the heir to the position of head of the Clan Cameron, though I didn't actually get to meet him. I assume that he's Tom's age or a little older.
Today, I got up and went to church (still slightly drunk, not gonna lie), which was a good way to pass the morning. There was a coffee hour afterwards where I met some more people and bought a ticket for the Burns supper and ceilidh that the church is hosting next Friday. Again, something terribly exciting to do.
And that has been my weekend. Also, I haven't been to church since last Easter, and I figure that I could use some spiritual cleansing after last semester ahaha.
I've heard that the weekend back home was passed with debauchery and insanity, so well done. Until next time, send me emails.

- C