The Scamp Abroad

This is a very important moment for me. My original goal in this journey was to get 100 posts into the world, and with 18 days to spare, I have met that goal. While there are not nearly enough travel posts that involve being outside Scotland, I think I have been able to give a good look at my life for the past year and some change. Some of the posts are fun, some strange, and some just plain sad. I had thought to do a look back on some of my favorite posts, but I am not quite ready to look back at some of the things that I wrote about choices I made or things that have happened. Instead, I thought it might be appropriate to share some of the things that I have learned while living in the land of kilts and haggis.

I learned how to be a better communicator. I thought that an MA in rhetoric meant that I was good with words, but I learned that I kinda sucked at the communication thing. I learned a lot about language, a lot about culture, and a lot about personal interactions. All of these things will not only make me a better teacher, but also a better person on the whole.

I learned that I can survive dorm living. It was hard for me at first, and I really struggled to adjust to 17 and 18 year olds with no concept of rules, and no sense of decorum. After a rough start I learned how to stay detached from situations involving them, and to stay off of their harassment radar. The second half of the year has been pretty much stress free in terms of them. I learned how to deal with shit in the hallway, having to listen to a girl get Lazy Susaned, and the occasional dance club that happens in the room below me. I really found a sense of community here that I did not have when I was living alone in San Diego. There is always someone here to share a meal with, crack jokes at, and chat with when I am trying to procrastinate on assignments.

I learned that I can survive a walk in the rain. Some days the wind blows too hard to be able to use an umbrella and you get a little wet on the walk to school. Wellies are the best invention ever, and surviving those days made the sunny days here completely worth it. I didn’t even mind the cold. If my BFF is willing to learn to like the heat for me, then I can learn to appreciate the cold.

I learned that admitting I need help is not a weakness, but in fact, one of my new greatest strengths. I do not have to try and fix everything on my own, and just because I ask for help doesn’t mean I am weak, or that people will think less of me.

I learned that I am not defined by my illness. It may take me 10 pills a day to function, and I may always be tired, and on the really bad days I can’t hold a pen, but I am not my Lupus. I am Kimberly Diane Wilder, writer, reader, educator, lover of snark, sister, daughter, friend, adventurer, girl trying to find her place in life.

I learned that sometimes it is good to give into wanderlust. Giving into my need to travel and giving in to my need for adventure has led me here, and this is, by far, the best choice I have ever made in my life. That need led me here, but is now taking me home for a different kind of adventure.

I learned that I am not defined by the life paths of the people around me. It doesn’t matter if they get married, have babies, or spend their days living off their parents and partying. Not all of those things interest me at the moment, and not all of them are getting to do the things that I get to do. All of this is not only normal, but perfectly okay. I cannot let people on different life paths make me feel like what I am doing is not just as important.

I learned that I will not spontaneously combust if I fail a class. Yep…I failed a class. I am still here though, so I guess the world doesn’t end like I previously thought it would.

I learned how to let things go. I used to hold grudges, hold on to resentment, and try to plan my life down to the very minute. I was always stressed, angry and on edge. There will always be things that I worry about like money, a job, my health, my mom’s health, but, I no longer feel the need to let these control and dictate my life. The future is not set in stone, and trying to plan out every minute and every detail will only hurt me when things don’t turn out the way I planned. So far, I have been a lot less stressed thanks to that one. I can now trust in the process and trust that in the end, everything will work out exactly the way it should, and I will always end up exactly where I need to be.

I learned that I do not need to run from my problems. I now see that I am strong enough to handle whatever is thrown at me. During heartstompapoolza, I was ready to throw in the towel and move home. I was ready to give up everything and hide in my parents’ house. When I was having girl drama in Merced, I wanted to come home, and when I got really sick in San Diego, I went as far to apply to CSUF so that I could run home. This time I am not going to run. I am going to go home and finish my degree and then figure out how to establish my career. Most importantly, I am going to go to San Diego with Kelly when I get home and see my favorite band play. Fuck David and what San Diego was supposed to mean to me. I’m not missing the show just because he lives somewhere in the city.

I learned that I have value. The amount of support, love, letter, hangouts, and kind words I got when I let people know that I was struggling was the most amazing thing ever. I never realized how much I affected others, or how much they were willing to do for me when I needed some help.

I learned how to feel at home. For the last 8 years I have been on the move, always getting restless, always moving, always looking for the next stage of my adventure. Scotland is the first place that I have really felt at home. I have been all over this little piece of paradise, and despite the lack of sun, I do not want to leave. It is not that I am dreading going home to California, but I am dreading having to leave the first place that has actually felt like home. I look at my trip back to California as a three year stint before I come back here, or go to a new country. I no longer feel the pull to back to California that I once felt. I need my family, and I don’t like that being here means I cannot always see them or talk to them, but I have been completely independent here, and learned how to do things without a safety net, and I have to say, I kinda like it.

The most important thing that I learned here is that I am no longer a broken toy. A misfit toy, yes, but who isn’t a bit of a misfit? I got sick, but so far it hasn’t stopped me from doing anything, I failed a class, but didn’t die, got harassed by 18 year olds, but learned to ignore them and coexist, got robbed, but rebuilt what was lost, got deferred, but fought for my spot in the PhD program, got cheated on and lied to by the person I thought was the love of my life, but finally realized that that was not my fault, and had nothing to do with my value, and everything to do with him being broken.

All in all, I think I learned how to be a better person. I am going back to California as a much more mature and self aware person. I officially bought my plane ticket today, and now I have a very clear end date. That being said, I have decided that I will continue the blog when I get home. If Scotland feels like home now, then going back to California will in a sense be like going abroad, and thus this blog will still be relevant.

Thank you to my wonderful readers and followers for sticking with me for 100 posts. I look forward to the next 100.

 

Truth be told, my head is so fuzzy thanks to all of the cold meds I am guzzling that I can’t really think straight. I have that hazy disconnected feeling that usually keeps me from taking meds in the first place. Somewhere in that hazy feeling, I thought it would be a good idea to do yoga….not a good idea. While trying to keep myself balanced, I decided that I need to set a new goal to keep myself motivated for the summer. I have decided that my goal is to be able to do this:

 

I’m hoping that by the time I am able to do this I will also have found those pants….possibly in red. I’ve been doing yoga for about 7 years now, but not nearly as seriously as I would like to, and not on the level it would take to do something like this. This will give me something to shoot for.

Of course, that could just be the drugs talking…..

On the upside, I finally submitted the last of my graded assignments today. I have officially finished the taught phase of my degree and am now free to work on my thesis. I’ve already started doing some of the research, and am having a lot of fun revisiting my good friends Ira Shor, Paulo Freire and Norman Fairclough.  Tomorrow me and my pal James Paul Gee will investigate the language of power, and how that applies to kids when they are learning about culture…..that is of course until I get distractted by animal videos on  youtube, or the meds somehow fry my brain to the point where I decide to give up on my idea of looking how cultural portrayals and stereotypes in contemporary children’s literature.

That is still a very large possibility.

The next post will be my 100th. I will have made it to my original goal. I guess I better make it count.

I jinxed myself today by talking about this, but it can’t get any worse, so why not share it again?

My seven readers know that I got robbed on Christmas and lost my computer and a bunch of other things. The rebuilding process was tough, it hurt my relationship, and the police report that we filed was more of a formality for insurance than anything else. The case closed quickly, and I set about moving on and trying to piece together the things that I lost. I had changed all of my passwords and made it so whoever had taken my computer couldn’t get to anything of value.

The problem is there is one program that I can’t seem to disconnect from the old computer. For some reason, even after changing my password on Dropbox, it is still connected to my old computer. Every so often now, when I turn on my computer, my Dropbox files update with pictures from the girl that now has my poor computer. There are several problems with this, mainly that I have to be reminded that my computer is out there in the world being tortured, and there is nothing I can do to save it. The girl is  hardcore chola looking with thick penciled eyebrows, dark lip liner, and painted on mole who thinks she is an amateur porn star. The pictures that get uploaded are various poses of her in front of her mirror with her saggy boobs and fat rolls hanging out. She is gross to say the least. I hate that I have to look at the pictures every time they get uploaded so that I can delete them, and the first few times it happened, I wished I could turn the pictures over to the police so they could track down my computer. Now I just wish I could get it to stop updating with her nastiness. It might be time to start a new Dropbox account and transfer everything off of the one I seem to be sharing now.

I’m still sidelined by a bad cold, so to make myself feel better, I am going to post one of my favorite videos.

Tomorrow it is back to work getting paperwork signed, tracking down my supervisor, and starting the process of packing my stuff and shipping it home.

For the last few days I have been feeling icky. I’m supposed to be at a birthday party right now, but thanks to a fever, and a very sore throat, I am laying in bed feeling like death. Luckily, the fever did not stop me from finishing my last paper. I’m happy to be done with it. Now I can start on the research for my dissertation, and I can squeeze in some last minute travels before my return to the states.

Since I am sidelined, I have been thinking about all of the strange things that happened this week. On Monday we got a note from the useless warden that the common room was now going to be closed because of the mess made and the paint (yes paint) that was all over the place. Come to find out that when the little future leaders all came back from spring holiday, they had a Smurf party and painted themselves blue before they went out on the town. The paint that was everywhere came from them touching walls, sitting on things, and basically being hot drunk messes. The thing is, since the paint washed out, I can’t even be mad at them. I just wish that I could see some of the pictures from that night.  Seeing them all painted and sloppy drunk would have been good for a laugh.

The next strange occurrence this week was taking the lift up with the number one trouble maker here. I wrote about him in the last tales of the strange. He is the guy that thinks dead rats smell like cheese. He is also the guy who got a tattoo on his ass of the school crest because he lost a bet. I usually try to avoid him, and had decided that the next time I was with him I was going to make a snide comment about smelling cheese. Unfortunately I forgot all about that when getting in the lift with him. He was super polite, pushing the button for my floor, and then surprised me by talking to me about the crap weather we were having. He was so polite and normal. I was shocked. So shocked that I didn’t even want to be rude to him.

Third strange picture for the week was the ever charming guy who I used to live next to. He was the one who dropped his towel one day and shared his bare white ass with me, and spent the first month trying to get into the wrong room. Tonight, he came down to the lobby in a suit, and a tiny glittery top hat. I’m not sure how he got it to stay on his head, but the purple hat with all of the little sparkles looked very out of place on his head. I really hope he is on his way to a themed party because he would make an ugly girl, and an awkward looking drag queen.

Part of me is sad that the fever is keeping me in tonight because I have a feeling there are a lot more fun things to see in the city tonight.

I’ve long sense come to the conclusion that I will never again go to an easy doctor’s appointment (unless of course it is for somebody else). I get poked and prodded, lose a liter of blood, and always thank sweet baby Jesus that there are no cameras in the bathroom while I am trying to pee in a cup. For the last four years, this has been my constant. I have a progressive disease, but I also have the best doctor in California, so if he thinks it needs to be done to keep me in my best shape, then I cannot really complain. The problems come when I have to change a medication, or when I have a new complication or pain that needs to be addressed.

I’ve been really lucky living here. Other than the bouts of fatigue, I have not had any serious setbacks or complications with my health. The doctors here are not nearly as good as Dr. Fab (yep, that is his name…well, it is Fabricant, but everyone calls him Fab), but they have been pretty good about getting me the medication I need. That was a fun process because a lot of the brands I was taking at home are not available here. That was sorted easily enough, and after the initial appointment, none of the doctors that I saw ever questioned what I was taking.

Today I got the doctor that asks all the questions. She informed me that one of the medications that I was taking should not be given to people with Lupus. I have a high risk of blood clots on my own, but the risk quadruples  on the drug. Now, I have been taking it since 2009, and have yet to have any problems. Not one. I tried to explain this to the doctor, and I pointed out that for the last 7 months the doctors here have been prescribing it to me without worry. She gave a speech about good medical practice and some other stuff that I didn’t listen to, but at the end, she told me she was not going to authorize the prescription, and then she put a note in my file about it so the other doctors that I could have seen would know that I was now blacklisted.

I will not be able to visit any doctor in the area to get the pills…road trip anyone? (I realize this makes me sound like a drug addict, and I promise I am not, but I don’t really like that I’ve seen 9 doctors since I was here and 8 of them were fine with my risk of blood clots).

I do have to appreciate the concern though. The only way that I found out about the Lupus was taking a pill that reacted with it my senior year of college. That was the year my kidneys stopped working, I lost 30 lbs, and was an all around sick lady. I really don’t need a repeat of that.

The only small victory that I got was being able to sweet talk her into filling three months worth of everything else. That buys me some time to figure out how to get insurance once I am back in California.

In the meantime, if someone wants to build me a new immune system that doesn’t want to eat itself, I would be forever in your debt.

You know you are getting old when your friends are having babies on purpose. It has been exactly one month since heartstomppedapoloza, and in that time 3 of my friends have announced they are pregnant or had a baby, and 7 of them have gotten engaged or married. My Facebook is constantly reminding me that I am not anywhere near that life path. I have been in a constant state of compare and despair, which is seriously harshing my mellow in the land of whiskey and kilts. A few months ago I was on that life path. A few months ago I had my future figured out. Now I have to go down a new path, and that is scary.

The other thing that I am having a problem with is the idea of moving home. It has been about 8 years since I have lived in Brea full time. The moving back to Brea part is not so bad, but the idea of moving back into my parent’s house has me feeling like a loser. Part of growing up is moving out of your parent’s house and living on your own with a job and your own bills to pay. Up until now, that was how I was living. I had my own apartment, my own income, and a sense of independence. I didn’t have to worry about waking anyone up if I stumbled in late at night (not that I ever did that mom), didn’t have to worry about offending anyone with pantsless Wednesday, and didn’t have to worry about feeling guilty if I went to work and my books, papers, and other assorted things were left all over the place.

I’m also a bit worried about the social aspect of returning home. Most of my friends are spread out over the US (and now Europe), and I worry that I will get stuck in a work, school, home pattern of despair. The PhD cohort will be people who are older than me and at very different places in their careers and lives, so I don’t know how many friends I will make. School has always been where I make my friends, so now I am unsure how I will make friends out in the real world.

The thing is, all this compare and despair is starting to cloud my view of coming home. When I think about going home, I get a little nervous and panicky. That should not be how I feel. So, for the next 24 days I am going to work on changing my views. I am going to see past all of the negative thoughts I have formed and focus on what is important. I’m going to focus on the fact that Facebook is not even close to reality, and that just because people around me are getting married and popping out tiny humans, doesn’t mean I need to. I am in no place to take care of a child…in fact, the closest thing to a tiny human that I want right now is a puppy.

I’m also going to look past my idea of being a boomarang baby. It is not like I am moving home to sit on my couch all day and watch reality TV. In fact, my parents are nice enough to let me come home and live rent free so that any money I make from the job (that I hope I get) can go towards paying off my loan from here. I don’t have to stress about trying to find a place to live that I can afford, and worry about only eating pb & j for the next five years while I try to manage all of my bills. I feel extremely lucky that I have parents that are willing to let me come home and take over their space again so that I can get my work done. The next three years are going to be intense, and having my support system on hand is going to be a huge help. Plus, living at home comes with a pool, so I can workout and tan in comfort.

The social aspect is the only thing I still need to work out. I think I will look into a yoga class, or some sort of thing like that that can get me out and about, and as more than one person has felt the need to point out to me, there is always internet dating.

…..yeah, like that will ever happen.

 

 

Today was not a day of work for me. It should have been, but because I finished my last paper yesterday, instead of fixing it and making sure it was ready (or working on my thesis proposal) I laid in bed and read a book all day. Truth is, I’m tired. I’m too tired to want to write or think, or do anything more than just lay in my bed. The cat made his way into my room today, and I played with him, let him sleep, and kept his belly full of tuna. He is currently sitting on my chair, mocking me by dragging his tail across the books I should be reading.

I’m glad he is here though. I think he knew that I needed a bit of a cuddle. Last night my subconscious decided to kick me in the face by giving me a night full of dreams about David. When I woke up this morning, I had the terrible urge to delete any post from this last year that had him in it. I wanted to edit out the parts where I gushed about how much I loved him, and how torn I was about leaving him. I wanted to get rid of the post where I was beating myself up thinking I had ruined our future while he was at home sleeping with other girls. I wanted to edit him out of my life. I still want to edit him out of my life.

I realized though that I can’t change the past. At the time, I thought he was worth it, and I thought I was in love….a forever kind of love. If it hadn’t been for him, I would not have spent the last few months working so hard to make myself a better and stronger person. If he hadn’t told me I drove him to do what he did, I would have never taken a good long look at myself and figured out what I could work on to make myself happy, and make myself a better person to be around. I’m not giving him the credit for the new and better me that I am creating, but walking away from him gave me the courage to do it. If I erased him from these posts, then I would be erasing all of the work I have been doing for the last year. My journey was about more than just the pursuit of another degree, and like it or not, he was a part of that,

One of the blogs that I read regularly just made posted its 588th post. He made the comment on his that he wishes there were quite a few posts he could go back and edit, but that each post got him to where is he now. He said that he rarely, if ever, goes back to read any of the previous posts, but he knows that he has some followers (mainly family) that will go back through and read some of his earlier work. I’d like to think that sometimes my seven readers click through and read the older posts, and that sometimes someone random from the world of blogging stumbles across my blog, and if they do, I guess it is only fair that they get the complete picture.

I’m not sure if I will ever go back through and read any of the earlier posts, but for now, I will leave them untouched in all of their emotional, messy, and sometimes funny glory.

I’ve been lazy. No, lazy is not the right word. Lately I have not been in the mood to write. I’ve been working nonstop for the last week on final assignments that writing anything else has just not been possible. My brain just wants to focus on bad reality TV and mystery/thriller stories. In all of my running around this week though, I was able to finally turn in all the paperwork necessary to prove that I am in fact a California resident, and for the moment, I have nothing else to do for the PhD. but find some scholarships to pay for it.

In addition to being a very busy work week, this was Jade’s last week in Scotland. Tomorrow morning she will return to Texas to do some more in-depth research to put together her proposal. She’s been packed and ready to go all week, and we were able to have a nice dinner with all of the boys and hang out in my favorite pub and listen to the karaoke stylings of Edinburgh. She got up and sang some songs, got to see everyone one more time.

I’m glad that Jade gets to go home to her family, sunshine and home cooked meals, but I will miss her. She has been an amazing friend to me while I was trying to sort out the mess with David, and if it wasn’t for her, I would not have met any of the boys. Missing out on my BFF would have been a real tragedy. She is the reason I was able to move at the start of this semester, and the reason why I have had only one interrupted night of sleep here. I don’t have to deal with the undergrads and have not been stressed about them, and I know that is because Jade was able to make my move possible. We’ve had a lot of good times watching movies, complaining about dorm food, and exploring Scotland and Ireland.

I wish her luck, success, and easy research and know that my time in Scotland would not have been nearly as much fun without her. She occasionally writes down her thoughts, so should my 7 loyal readers be interested, you can find her here : http://mjadez.wordpress.com/

 

This is the first of the goodbyes, and means that I have less than a month here….something that I am not ready to think about yet.

 

I now only have 30 days left in Scotland. A few months ago I was counting down the days until I was back in California, and now, despite the fact that I am returning to sunshine and flip flops, I find myself reluctant to return. In truth, this is the first place that I have lived in the last five years that I am sad to leave. I really feel like this is my home now, and this is the place that I would like to settle down in. Even on my worst days with the undergrads, that did not taint my view of the city. This is the place where I nursed my broken heart, where I met some amazing people, and where I learned how to be a proper adult. I look at the PhD program as a three stay in California before I return here. I talked about this with my mom while she was here, and so far she seems to be okay with it.

I have no idea what will happen in the next few years, and no idea if I will actually return to Scotland to settle down. Right now though, it seems like a really good idea. Dr. Scamp could make a killing selling her wisdom here. Scottish people love me.

I have spent the last two days laying in bed, and have done very little in the way of exploring, adventures, and even work. I can talk a very good game about being productive and wanting to get work done, but my practice of doing it so far has not gone so well. My bed is suddenly so comfy, the sun and the breeze suddenly so inviting, and evaluating my lesson plan on cultural stereotypes no longer seems to be that interesting.

Since I have nothing all that exciting to share, I thought this post could be dedicated to the Rubber Pirate Chicken.

Chicken was born on June 3, 2011. My mom had fallen at work and scraped her knee, and because of her poor weakened immune system, her knee got infected pretty badly. I took her to the hospital and joked with all of the doctors we encountered that night that her pirate look would be complete if they just went ahead and cut off her leg so that she could get a peg leg. I text Kelly and told her mom would be peg legging it down the aisle with her, and told my mom she really would make the best pirate ever now. She was a really good sport about it, and after the lovely ER visit, we went to the CVS across the street to pick up all of the prescriptions that would clear up the infection. While wandering around the CVS at 2 in the morning, we found all sorts of goodies, including a 5 lb bag of gummy worms, and the Rubber Pirate Chicken.

He has been part of our family ever since. He went to the wedding rehearsal.  He lived in San Diego with me for three years, holding court over the TV I rarely used. He then started my journey here with me, but was mailed home a couple of months ago (You want people to think you are strange?  Go to a post office in Scotland and tell them you are sending a rubber chicken to the States). He wandered around La Habra for awhile before making his way back to Scotland. He has been all over Scotland, and his next adventure will be taking him to England where he will see Stonehenge, Bath and London.

Here are some of Chicken’s best moments so far.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chicken did not enjoy the haggis