Somewhere beyond the sea

Greetings from Galway!

Yes, it’s finally happened. A. and I have uprooted our lives and made the move across the pond (complete with furry family in tow).

This move has been a roller coaster of events and emotions. It’s been exciting, and most certainly an adventure, but that’s not to say it’s been easy. Far from it. Sure, it was difficult fitting in in a new country; there’s the requisite culture shock and not knowing a single soul in the country (or on the continent, for that matter). There’s having to adjust to an entirely different pace of life, new governmental rules, and of course learning our way around the city (via walking or public transit since we no longer have a car).

But the thing that really took me by surprise was how quickly the homesickness hit. And it hit hard, like a sucker-punch to the gut. It took less than 48 hours after arriving on Irish soil, while we were still in a hotel and ambling about the city, while it should have still felt like we were on vacation and reality hadn’t yet set in, before I began to feel the pangs of loneliness and, more aptly, “aloneness”.  I missed home. I missed the places and people that had been so familiar for the past 28 years of my life. I missed complaining about yet another heat wave, and how it should feel like Fall already. I missed simple things, like knowing what store I needed to go to for anything I might be needing; and the infinitely more important things like being able to run over to my parents’ house for an evening and get a hug from my mom when I had a bad day. I’m getting used to the small differences, but being so far away from everyone who is important in my life (besides A, of course) is a constant struggle that feels like I’ll never overcome. And I’m honestly not sure I want to.

It’s funny; when we were still in California, I was sure that I was more independent than this. I figured I’d miss my family and friends, but getting to video chat every weekend and exchanging emails and care packages (receiving comfort items from home in exchange for some UK goodies) would pretty much negate my sadness at the separation, and instead I would be focused on the excitement of this new chapter of my life and its ensuing adventures. But for all my talk of wanderlust and thirst for the adventure of seeing new places and doing new things, it turns out I’m more in love with the idea of adventure than the adventure itself. I miss home, and it weighs me down every day. It’s easy enough to push to the back of my mind while I’m at work and have something that requires my full attention. But in the mornings homesickness makes it hard to get out of bed. In the afternoons and evenings, it’s nearly crippling and I can’t seem to bring myself to do anything but tune out to Netflix or an audiobook, just so that I don’t have to think about how far away we are.

Obviously the doom-and-gloom thread won’t go into the family blog, but I just had to get it out somewhere. And I’m not saying that the move here has been all bad; in fact, there’s plenty that has been completely awesome about moving here.

For one, we’re a novelty. We’re the “cool Californians”, and I’ve already encountered such amusing reactions as: “Wait, you left California to come here?”, “Did you live in Hollywood?”, and “Oh, there’s another girl in the department from California! Maybe you’ll know each other!” (to which my reaction was to laugh and ask if they realized just how big California is, and how many people are there; hopefully I won’t end up knowing her so I don’t look like a complete idiot).

Another awesome thing about living here is being surrounded by so much history. Sure, you can visit “historic” sites in California that might date back into the mid-1800s (what hasn’t already been torn down and replaced with a strip mall or tract housing, that is), but there are buildings still standing in Galway that have been around since the 1500s. Instead of leveling their history, the city grew up around the history. One of the branches of my bank is inside a castle. The pub we had dinner at last week was founded by the guy who beheaded Charles I. The original city wall built by the Normans occupying Gailimh runs through the middle of the shopping mall downtown. Seriously.

I am excited about exploring Ireland, really getting to see some things from a local’s perspective rather than as a tourist, and getting to experience a new way of life for a while. But at the same time, I’m left with that constant homesick feeling for people back in California. Hopefully once people start coming to visit that will allay some of the sadness. Even just getting to look forward to a visit makes things a little easier.

Like I said, it’s been a roller coaster.

For right now, though, I need to stay focused on all of the positive things I’ve just listed out. This post has actually been a great help to refocus me. I might be sad about leaving home and miss people tons, but there’s so much I’m excited to do here, too. Maybe I’ll put a note on the fridge to remind me about that every morning.

So, here’s to making the huge move (whether it was a stupid idea or not), and doing little things every day that make me happy. To keeping positive, even when it hurts and all I want to do is cry, and to remembering why we made the move to begin with. Here’s to adventure, both the idea of it and the actuality, and the growth it inspires.

Here’s to Ireland. And here’s to visiting home at the first possible chance.

On the trail of freedom

Greetings from beautiful, historic Boston! 

Wow has this been a day. We started off leaving LAX at 11:00P last night, laid over for a mere 20 minutes in Chicago at 5:00 in the morning, landed in Boston at 9:30A, and arrived at our hotel at 10:00A, where we proceeded to drop our bags, then spent the whole day exploring the city on foot. It was a grueling day to be sure, but well worth pushing through sheer exhaustion to accomplish what we did. 

I won't go into much detail now, but I will say that the highlights of Boston for me were: 

1. Taking a guided walking tour of the Freedom Trail and leaning about the foundations of American history on the sites where they actually happened. 
2. Getting to visit the two oldest pubs in the US. 
3. The clam "chowdah", best in the world! 

The last 18 hours have been a fun and much-needed break from the stress of work, packing, and moving. I think I'll probably sleep better tonight than I have in weeks, partially because I'm utterly exhausted from an active day on almost no sleep, but also because I'm in a far better place mentally and emotionally thanks to this little respite.

Boston is one hell of a town, and I'm already looking forward to when I can make my way back here to stay a bit longer!

Growing pains

Greetings from the corner of Progress and Nostalgia.

My time at UCR is coming to a close. I'd known this day was coming for a while, but it's just starting to hit me how monumental this is.

I came to UCR in the Fall of 2004 as an undergrad fresh out of high school. I had no idea how the world worked. I really didn't have any idea how to be my own person. During my undergraduate years I did a lot of growing; some of it was hard, some fun, and some utterly ridiculous, but it was my first opportunity to really experience life on my own terms. It was also where I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.

Growing up, I was always convinced that I was going to be a scientist. It never really got more specific than that, just "a scientist". In high school I first started to fall in love with biology and genetics, but in college I was exposed to such a huge array of specialized fields that it at first blew my mind, then eventually let me find a niche that I enjoyed and could carve out a future in.

After graduation, UCR gave me my first research job. There, I learned how to design, execute, and analyze experiments. As the years progressed, I grew from a green college graduate washing dishes for other people into a competent researcher running my own experiments. It was sort of like a post-doc for the window between college and grad school; research with training wheels.

When the training wheels finally came off, I was ready to start grad school. The two years of my Master's degree went by in a flash. One minute I was excited to be getting back to school, the next I was walking across the stage at my commencement after having written and published a hundred-page thesis. But even after my Master's graduation I couldn't quite say good-bye to UCR. I've been spending the summer finishing up projects here and there, and honestly just looking for an excuse not to leave, I suppose.

But now I'm staring down my last couple weeks, with no recourse but to follow through on my commitment to move on to that PhD in Ireland. And, as hard as it is to admit, when I really, critically consider it, it is time for me to move on. I've grown a tremendous amount at UCR, and been given experiences for which I'll be forever grateful. But for as much as I've grown, I've reached the limit of that growth at UCR. Now I need to go somewhere else, somewhere new that pushes me to learn new things instead of relying on the comfort of the familiar workplace and familiar coworkers.

UCR has been a part of some of the greatest things in my life. I found my research interests. I experienced D&D for the first time. I was advised and mentored by great professors whom I hope to keep in contact with throughout my professional career. I met my husband and some of my best friends.

I don't mean to wax too nostalgic (there's plenty of things I won't miss about UCR), but leaving the place I've spent the last 11 (very formative) years of my life is starting to hit me hard. I've been at UCR in one form or another longer than any apartment or house I've lived in since I moved out of my parents' house (and nearly as long as I'd lived in my parents' house before I moved out). Packing up our house for the move doesn't feel too much different than moving to just any other place, except it might feel a little more liberating. Packing up my desk and deconstructing my lab equipment? That almost brought me to tears yesterday. But again, it is time to go. Even though I'll be an ocean away and forging a new path at a new university, UCR will always hold a special place in my heart.

Keep on doing what you're doing, Highlanders. And don't for one second let anyone talk down on UCR. It might not be Ivy League, but it's still a damn good place to call home for a while.

Just a jump to the left...

And then a step to the right.

Greetings from the middle of a Time Warp!

I could swear it was just August 1st. Or June 1st, for that matter. Our trans-Atlantic move draws ever closer with each passing day, and time is seeming to accelerate the closer we get to our move date that is the centerpoint to this insane vortex. We've given our move-out notice. We've submitted resignation letters. We've bought plane tickets. One way plane tickets. Just about all of the advance preparations that can be made have been by this point, and the only tasks left to us are to finish sorting through the material possessions that comprise our lives here and pack what we deem worthy of taking. These are not small tasks, admittedly, but most of the brain work is done for now.

I know that, looking back, these next few days really will be the calm before the storm. And I'm grateful that we still have four weeks to dedicate almost solely to packing. But I also know that in just a few short days our moving timeline is going to reach terminal velocity, and everything is going to happen at blinding speed until the tornado finally sets us down in Oz. Or Dublin, as it were (both places have munchkins and rainbows so the analogy holds up, deal with it). Then, once we finally make it over to Galway, things will be even more frantic for at least another week while we house hunt, set up bank accounts, and fill out kilometres of paperwork.

And that right there is some scary shit.

With this in mind, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I'll probably need to retreat to my happy place many times before September is through with me if I want to maintain what little sanity I still possess. But hey, that's what wine, Tim Burton movies, and The Ricky Horror Picture Show are for.

Peace out, Transylvanians.