Windsurfing, pathways, and a Cornish pasty

I spent the past weekend in Cornwall, a region in southeast England. If you'd like to refer to your handy atlas, please turn to the page displaying the UK. Ok, now find Cardiff...ready? Look just under (south) of Cardiff, across the small body of water, to the chunk just below Wales. Cornwall is on the left of this chunk, and I was in a town called Bude. I took this trip with about 50 other members of the Cardiff Uni Windsurfing Club, and this lovely Cornish town by the name of Bude hosted a windsurfing festival for nearly 700 student windsurfers. The Student Windsurfing Association, which organized the event, said that it was the biggest windsurfing event EVER in the UK.

Windsurfing is not easy, but I think it will get easier as I practice. The SWA had planned out an afternoon of instruction for beginners, along with general windsurfing for all. I had 1.25 hours of land instruction, followed by 1.25 hours of water practice and instruction. Instructors were in the water to help everyone, and other instructors traveled around in small boats, giving beginners and their kits rides back to shore as we needed it.

I rode in a car with three other students, and at one point, as we drove through lovely Cornish countryside, on the tiny little country roads I've seen in Wales and England, three cows began ambling along in front of the car. We were trapped behind them for more than five minutes. When the driver honked the horn, the cows started to run, but didn't leave the road. Sometimes one of them would start to move off to the side, but then notice the other cows and walk back to the group.

I did eat a pasty in Cornwall, the home of this delightful foodstuff, but I didn't love it. The other windsurfers told me that it wasn't the best pasty and I should try again sometime.

In school news, last week was full of stress. Fortunately, my program offers me a lot of support, and after two days of distress, I have switched some things around and now I feel much better. I am now focusing on newspaper journalism, rather than magazine, and I have more required writing. It will be more work, but I am satisfied with this decision because it is more disciplined. And because I am being forced to do so much writing, I will get a lot more feedback on my work and, logically, improve my writing skills more.

The only bad thing happening now is that after a whole weekend of not sleeping enough, drinking too much, being cold and wet, and not washing my hands because our caravan had no soap, I have a sore throat. I'm hoping that a solid night's sleep and the orange I just ate will kick the ass of this cold, because the people on my course, students and tutors alike, who have gotten sick in the last month have appeared to be near death at the height of the illness. Not appealing. Wish me luck!

On being a hermit

Sometimes it’s hard to be sociable here. It’s quite easy to chat with classmates before and after class, or if I run into them near Bute, where we have most of our lectures. What is more difficult is hearing at 2pm that there is a party that night...a party that is at someone’s (don’t know whose) home. We’ll all meet at a particular pub at a certain time, and then we’ll walk from there. It just seems quite limiting. And it’s getting cold outside, especially at night. And Dan offered to make something yum for dinner if I stopped by the supermarket to pick up a few items.

Of course, the other issue is that I always hope to spend more time reading or studying than I do. If I could plan ahead, that would help. Why don’t people have parties on Fridays? I guess they do; I just don’t know about them.

I sometimes fear that this year is going to be over before I know it, and I won’t be any closer to my classmates than I am now. This is a ridiculous fear, I know. I will see them every weekday for the next 9 weeks, and then every weekday for another 12 weeks or so. We will grow closer through little choice of our own. Familiarity breeds...um...friendship? It can’t hurt, I suppose.

In more positive school news, I have been reading The Economist. And it has inspired about 5 ideas for possible feature articles. Possibly dissertation topics? Well, not sure about that yet. I will feel more confident about the dissertation topic after reviewing some dissertations from previous years. I feel that I need some limits, or at least some tighter guidelines.

Good night. Hope the partying classmates are enjoying themselves...I’m sure they are.

What happens if I fail journalism?

I am the worst reporter ever. I have had ONE assignment so far, and I can’t seem to accomplish the goal. The goal is to write an article related to Wales (or Cardiff) and music, and must include one quote. This sounds pretty damn easy, but I can’t seem to do it. I would be fired from my job right now if I had one and this was my assignment. I had one idea...but it didn’t pan out because the event I planned to cover no longer exists. Well, ok, whatevs. I can roll with it. At the Indian festival I attended (to try to get info for my first story idea), my classmate spotted an ad posted by a woman who organises Indian events around Cardiff—as in, she organises the music for these events. What a great idea, I thought. I emailed her through her website, got a positive response from her, and proceeded to email her a list of questions to which I never received a response. Now my article is due in approximately 12 hours, and I have class beginning in less than 12 hours, and I don’t know what to do.

So that’s my first assignment, down the toilet. Maybe she’ll write early in the morning. Maybe I’ll whip out the article over lunchtime. Maybe, maybe, maybe. More likely I’ll get a zero on my first article assignment. I hope this situation gets better and every Sunday night is not like this, because I do not want to spend more than a year’s savings to fail my master’s programme.

sleepytime forced writing

News reading, October 10, 2007. Check. I read The Independent this evening. It costs only 30p at the students’ union. Today we have a brief respite from the Royal Mail strike—I still didn’t receive any mail. Tomorrow and Friday are scheduled to be strike-free, too. But the Royal Mail workers and management have not reached an agreement, so there may well be another strike next week.

Virgin Media came by this morning to install broadband internet and a landline. We haven’t picked up a phone yet, so I don’t know how the landline will be, but the internet seems to work just fine. Faster than the random wireless we were picking up earlier.

This whole writing every day thing is a challenge. I don’t really like doing it. I know some people just want to write, write, write, all the livelong day. I sometimes wonder if it’s an inherent editorial characteristic to find writers self-indulgent. It doesn’t make any sense to think such a thing, really, when the writing is what gives me work to do. And I couldn’t get by without reading other people’s writing. So I don’t know why I have this assumption. Tonight Dan was reading through a friend’s fiction. The friend in question is applying for the second time to a prestigious writing program—he was rejected the first time. But he wants to be a part of this program so much. It is situations like this that make me afraid to read work written by my friends. I mean, what if I hate their work? What if it’s crap? What would I say? How would we continue to be friends? Whew, 275 words. Good night, internet.

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Was feeling so inspired when I sat down to write...but Dan’s music selection has switched to some damn thing with a 6-minute guitar solo. After asking who the hell it is, as a good journalist must do, I know it is Stephen Malkmus. Now Dan is singing along...I find this little ditty to be less potent, more grating, than Sam Cooke and Otis. You remember Otis---the man surrounding the pipes that crooned “These Arms of Mine.”

I was trying to describe to Dan earlier how I feel here in Cardiff. After the brief description, he said, “you feel alive.” And I guess I do. I walk outside, through the park, and I feel good. I feel so happy to be here, to be doing something new, to be reading news like a fiend. I also have downs, and they can be dramatic. Last night I had a brief but powerful surge of dread...dread of how much news reading I should do today, of the homework assignment due Thursday, of the uncertainty of what will happen in the weeks ahead. I woke this morning with similar fears. I didn’t even get out of bed immediately, just because I was intimidated by the day itself.

But only a few hours later, after reading, reading, reading the Financial Times weekend edition (this turned out to be a 2-day project), I started to feel that breathlessness again...the happy one. The one that reminds me of possibilities ahead. I’m in Europe. I’m a student. I will soon have a brain worth millions...ok, just kidding. But I can buy a plane or train ticket and go to Paris for a weekend. I can go to Russia if I want to. I need to choose an interesting place in eastern Europe on which to focus a dissertation. The general topic so far is this: Eastern Europe and women/girls and education. Coming along well, is it not?

At the very least, I’m feeling things. I’m feeling dread, but the dread varies. It’s a nice change from the daily dread of going to work. And I feel hope again. I feel the kind of hope that will inspire me to complete my coursework, to meet people from all over the world, to write a dissertation on some damn topic I find intriguing, and, in the end, to find a job that inspires me. To have the confidence and hope to lease my brain and talent to an employer who may not exploit these aspects of myself and give me nothing but low self-esteem and shitty pay in return.

5 things I really really like about my life right now: a countdown

5. I am reading news regularly. This is a challenge, but the long-term result is that I will be smarter. I will sound more interesting when I talk to new people, and, perhaps most important, I will get a better sense of British style and usage. Tonight I helped with some proofreading for the student newspaper, and it was really tough. Spelling wasn’t even too bad, because I have a general sense of how British English varies from American English, but the punctuation, man. I could find NO consistency whatsoever in terms of single and double quotes. Next purchase: British version of CMS.

4. I do not drive. Ever. And I do not sit in a cubicle. I’m combining these two, because I want to keep this list on the positive side, positive as in things that ARE happening, not things that aren’t. But it is effin’ awesome to not drive or sit in rush-hour traffic, and wow, it is sooo great to be away from a job where I sat at my desk for eight hours a day, and taking time to be friendly with colleagues was strongly discouraged.

3. My flat. This may well be the nicest home I’ve ever rented. There are imperfections, certainly, but I shall save those for another day. The first night I slept here, I had a dream that I was researching my dissertation. This happened before classes officially started. So you can plainly see that it is an inspirational home. Also, the flat comes with brown leather couches, which I don’t think I could ever justify buying. But I do like living with them. And it is in a neighborhood that backs up to a park. And there are many restaurants, pubs, pawn shops, discount stores, and various other pleasantries, all within a short walk.

2. I walk through a park and past a castle every single day. I walk out of my apartment building, through the front garden, which, to be honest, could use some maintenance, and out the front gate. I turn left, walk for about one minute, turn left again, walk past a Welsh pub, and enter the park. I cross an attractive river, which usually carries ducks, and then I keep walking, past a goblin who lives just off my path. He always looks a little freaked out. That’s just how life is. At night, when the park is closed, I walk around it, and I pass a castle on my travels.

1. Every day I sit in a room with 79 other people, 76 of whom are not American. They are friendly, they like to meet new people, they have their very own reasons for being in this program (just as I do), and they have completely different life experiences from mine.