Of course, since I am still not quite done with my reverse-culture shock, an hour after my presentation on Chilean folklore music and Violeta Parra’s “Gracias a la Vida”–getting ice cream at the dining hall–I unconsciously switched to speaking in Spanish with someone who doesn’t speak Spanish at all. It was only a few words, and I realized my mistake right away (something that I can’t always say I do), but still. It can’t be good to have the mental language wires this crossed.

Speaking of all things Spanish, the start of my search for the Chilean empanada in New York has gotten off to a rocky start. I’m assuming that empanadas just aren’t the same outside of South America, but there are places in Queens (and Brooklyn?) that, as rumored on the web, may hold some potential. Time to go adventuring into the outer boroughs again! After all, what better place is there than an hour-long subway ride to catch up on Enlightenment-era reading?

So, Uptown Girl was left in the dust as I explored the world. Poor Uptown Girl sat sitting in the sweltering New York sun of August and September without so much as one word from me, her creator. Then she saw the leaves change color in October, all alone. Then she saw the winds start in November and the chill set in in December, still a lost blog-child, without a guide to lead her through the dangerous world of the Internet. And now it is the dead of winter, January, and just now the neglectful mother of this blog has returned for the poor Uptown Girl.

It is my responsibility to answer the Uptown Girl’s silent cries for my help. Once again I must feed her with healthy-length blog posts, I must care for her design, I must screen her comments–in short, I must remind her that I cherish her.

So here is my first reminder.

I am back uptown for a new semester at Barnard. Boy is it weird to be back in New York! I just finished my first week of classes and I am having the same problem that I have had practically every semester before this one: I want to take more classes than I realistically can. What to drop, what to drop?

On the schedule as of today:

Early Modern Women Writers (can count for major)

Essay Writing (can count for major)

Major English Texts II (can count for major)

Junior Colloquium: Imitation and Creation (required for major)

Contemporary Issues in Education (not necessary, but is 4 credits instead of 3 and might help with getting into an education school or credential program in the future)

Introduction to Statistical Reasoning (fulfills math requirement)

Introduction to the Study of Hispanic Cultures (fulfills Spanish minor requirement)

That’s seven classes, and I want to take them all. This is when I wish I had Hermione’s time changer necklace.

I’ll figure it out eventually. But if you, my very few readers, have any suggestions for me based on the information provided, I will happily accept it.

My Institute for Study Abroad, Butler Univ. Blog

I’m planning to do a post exclusively for Uptown Girl soon that says more about the student protests and sit-ins happening in Chile, and how it affects me. But I need a siesta right now.

I am planning to have the content that is published on the IFSA blog re-published here so I can keep Uptown Girl up to date while abroad.

And I can’t help but think that at least those three things are likely to be the same in Valparaiso, Chile. Even the dude who helped me get my visa at the Chilean consulate said that the two cities have some things in common. I know homesickness is bound to happen (it’s one of the middle stages of adjusting to life in a foreign country, apparently), but maybe when missing home does hit me, maybe it won’t be so bad. Because hey, Valparaiso has beautiful hill-based neighborhoods, too. They’re called cerros (which I still cannot pronounce correctly due to my clumsy gringa tongue) and they are accessed via funiculares–Chilean cable cars, of sorts.

So while I will be somewhere completely unfamiliar, completely unfamiliar may not be so completely unfamiliar after all. I will have reminders of home. I can hardly say that much of New York.

The Emigration from the temporary Homeland (this dungeon of a dorm room) has begun, and the bookshelf community is the first to make the move.

I’m going to need another box.

Also, does anybody in NYC want a straw cowboy hat with a sheriff star on it?

My last final (Africana Studies) ended six hours ago. It was rather painless, if you exclude the carpal tunnel caused by having to hand-write essay responses for three hours straight. My grade for Critical Writing has already come in. Now please excuse me while I skip and dance through the streets of Morningside Heights while declaring my undying love for Professor Will Sharpe.

You may hear from me again before I leave NYC to go home for the summer, but if not, see you in SF!

Take “see” loosely, if you happen to be one of my few New York-based readers.

Believe me, I’m trying. I’m making progress on the mile-high pile of documents I need to complete in order to legally enter Chile in late July. But there is so much more left to do. I feel the same way right now as I did when applying to colleges: so many things to do, all at once! (Granted, I did apply to eleven colleges.)

Being in the throes of finals doesn’t help me stay organized or on track. In fact, knowing that I have two papers due in the next two days has made me even more reluctant to sit down and do something–anything–productive. It’s like I am afraid to even look in the direction of Peggy Levitt and her transnationalism, or John Dewey and his definition of “communication.”

Ugh.

Don’t worry, I’ll eventually get out of this mess into which I have buried myself. And by “eventually,” I mean, “preferably by 5pm tomorrow for Sociology, 11:59pm Friday for Philosophy of Education, and 7pm Tuesday for Africana Studies.”

I got more positive feedback on my writing today, from the adorable old man who was my Critical Writing professor this semester. He said my writing has “a lot of intellectual energy and cleverness” and that I write “clearly and entertainingly.”

He definitely hasn’t read my blog yet.

Now, for politics. Since I am short on time, I will keep my opinion brief for now: The only entities I wanted our troops to kill and throw into the ocean were Islamophobia and excessive patriotism. We have yet to see about the first of those two over the next couple years. Unfortunately, according to this video, the excessive patriotism is still alive and kicking:

Second, the T word is not actually a word that needs censoring under American regulations. The T word is theory. Theory, theory, theory–there, I said it. Theory–of the literary variety–has dominated my semester. In fact, it has dominated my entire college experience. This person says that this phenomenon is all about this because that is what the research says/what the generally accepted logic is/it is the way it is. There, how is that for theory?

I’m doing a project on reader-response theory in Critical Writing. I am going to make it somewhat fun and interactive by making my classmates do some work of their own when I present my project this Wednesday. Maybe that will make theory a little less theoretical.

T also stands for a couple other words. Crunch Time, for example–we’ll modify it to be (C)T. Even the violinist who lives somewhere along the airshaft knows this; she’s been practicing basically nonstop for several days when at the start of the semester she only practiced a few times a month. (Don’t ask me how I manage to keep track of this but not my own stuff.) T also stands for Two. There are roughly two more weeks of classes. Then, during the two weeks after that, I will be able to appropriately use the F word.

Finals, that is.

Both luckily and unluckily for me, the majority of my “finals” (they never seem to have an end) will be due during the last week of class and during reading week. They are all papers. Even my Modern Dance class requires a final paper. What this means is that I will be extremely miserable until April 6, when my last paper is due, but I will have a full four days to prepare for my final final. Which is also a paper. Written in class, in less than three hours, and by hand.

So, to review, T(C)TTF. And then I’ll finally be free, like the existentialists proclaim we already are. Whatever, Sartre; that’s your Theory, not mine.

I almost forgot the final T!

I am officially Traveling to Chile this fall (signed the contract–just gotta fax it in now). I depart SF in late July.