Honeymoon is over-ish

Hi, and welcome back to your regularly scheduled programming. I.e., the part where I bitch and complain because obviously my life is so horrible (HA).

No seriously, I just went and looked it up. I guess I’m in the “negotiation” stage of culture shock. (Wiki says it typically takes three months to get to this stage; am I really that premature?) The thing is, I don’t feel like I’m in culture shock, per say. I barely feel as though I’m in London. The biggest shock for me is living with this huge group of people, which is actually quite excellent for me because if I feel rejected by one person, there’s always another to talk to.

There are some things London can’t change about me, as I’ve already discovered. I’ve already made countless mistakes, one revolving around my first real Long Island Iced Tea experience. I’m starting to think that maybe I’m just going to keep pushing limits and feeling badly about my choices until something truly bad happens. (Not consciously, of course.) Then again, I guess it already has. I really wish I had my ex-roomie Lee to psychoanalyze me right now.

Hmm, I’m not quite sure where I was going with this? As usual, I’ve ended up with a rant that I’ll publish just to see if it garners any sort of reaction. But I don’t think I’ll be posting it to Facebook- I don’t really need my mother asking me about my alcohol-related incidents.


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