Four Years Ago

I'm leaving for Oxford today.  And even though this will be my second time there, I'm very anxious and nervous.  And excited.  And overwhelmed. 

It's as if I'm going there for the very first time again.  It's as if I'm still that girl from four years ago with braces (yes, I had them for a very long time) and a pink Razor.  It's as if nothing has changed during all that time. 

This is the part where I get nostalgic and talk about how life changing my first time at Oxford was.  And why I'm scared that this time won't measure up (or be better).

I remember getting off from the Heathrow-Oxfordshire bus (Oxford University is not in London, if you were wondering) being very cranky -- I can't remember why I was in such a bad mood, but I was.  I also remember dropping the f-bomb when I saw the cobblestoned streets -- like, how was I supposed to roll my suitcase on these?  And my shoes?  While I stood there rolling my eyes, I happened to make eye contact with this girl standing near me: we clicked.  She and I were basically thinking the same thing, and we started complaining together, and we ended up being super close.  My very first friend abroad -- god, she was (and still is) perf, and I don't know how I could've done it without her. 

We found our little group by the next few days.  We instantly fell in love with each other and somehow managed to hang out together all the time, albeit the lack of cellphones.  We were from all over the world and completely different from each other, but somehow we were perfect together.  To be honest, I can't even remember what we did that were so much fun -- I mean, I remember the big things like watching a Shakespearian play outside, going to bops and dances, walking around in the rain and taking touristy pictures, stumbling into a strip club named Yum Yum...  

I also met one of my best friends who I still talk to every single day (she isn't in the picture above, even though she totally should be).  My Canadian soul mate, who literally has stuck by me through thick and thin across the border.  It's funny when I think about how we've gotten closer rather than drifting away like a lot of friendships -- she literally is the best.  I mean, let's just say that my days are actually incomplete when I don't talk to her. 

And of course, my roommate, my hall mate, and my classmates.  Oh my god, it makes me smile from ear to ear just thinking about how incredible they all were.  I mean, I don't think I spent a single day being homesick or sad or anything other than having fun.  My roommate was always there for me, starting from pillow talks to dance parties to waking me up early so that we could get the best cereals.  My hall mate -- the best priest from Hamlet of all time -- was always around to give us her extra peanut butter (peanut butter was hard to find those days) and have sleepovers with us whenever we got scared.  My classmates, especially my partner in crime from Australia, made international law fun, which itself is pretty unbelievable now that I think of it. 

(Yes, we experienced 15 minutes of fame in London)

So what I'm trying to say is this: my first time at Oxford was so perfect that I'm scared that this time won't measure up to it.  I mean, obviously, I need to work a lot more and care a lot more, but what if those are the only things I end up doing?  What if I don't find people who will accept me for the loud biddie that I am, for the Ke$ha-loving philosophy major that I am, for the awkwardly blunt bon vivant that I am?  What if?

Well, if worse comes to worst, I'll have wine and Skype and #yolo with me.

*Special thanks to Grace, Abra, Allison, Sophia, Kimi, Katie, and Sherron for changing my life.