In which mouse makes up for undue snark in previous post

Before I left for City by the Sea, I was terribly anxious. I didn’t really want to admit it, or face it, but I was terribly anxious. I was anxious because the last time I left to cross the ocean, things worked out terribly. I was miserable for months and came home feeling defeated. The anxiety that descended on me during the past year just never really got around to dissipating, only quelled for a while now and then.

But now, reader… now! It’s been nothing but bliss, nothing, nothing but bliss for ten days and I honestly foresee nothing but pure, genuine happiness from here on out. By “happiness,” I don’t mean that I believe that this elated, blissful state can endure — I mean, mostly, the feeling of rightness, of suitedness, of being exactly where I belong and making the most of it. Ask for me, for example, come term paper time, and you will almost certainly find me a grave woman. There will be desperate moments, stressful moments, and — I’m cringing already — embarassing moments. But I cannot imagine being anything but happy here.

There is the comforting fact that the grad students I’ve met all, to a one, enthusiastically confirm my suspicions that Brit Uni is a nurturing, collaborative, supportive, energizing, challenging place to be. I have yet to hear or see anything that gives me even the slightest doubt that this institution is exactly the place for me.

There is the further comforting fact of the welcoming kindness of the faculty I’ve met. They seem to – gasp – actually want to know me, and they seem to be glad I’m here. They are excited about their students and proud of them. It’s plain as day that they’re good teachers. (They also happen to do damned good work.)

There is the library’s splendid (especially given its size) collection of Old Stuff, which more than makes up for the not-so-splendid Bombshelter School architecture of the place.

And there is City by the Sea, this glorious place, so gloriously by the sea, filled with weirdos and poky corners and wonderfully alive. The best weather available in Britain. Sweet little tea shops. Organic food co-ops. A very active, very visible Radical Element. A critical mass of used book shops. Queers all over the damned place. An early music festival starting in October. The sea. The sea. The sea. I felt immediately at home here in a way that Toulouse never gave me, that New York is constantly dangling just beyond my reach.

Really, reader, a girl can’t ask for more than this.