How a stolen laptop, health problem, unsuccessful flat search, teachers' strike, and missed ride from Paris haven't squelched my passion for this programme
'You're living the dream,' Dad said over tuna sandwiches in Pt. Pleasant, New Jersey, at his recent birthday-cum-Father's Day bash. I explained it wasn't really a dream, but thank you; he pointed out that I had a goal, a dream, and I had made it happen; I thanked him. I am here in London reading for my M.A. in Eighteenth-Century Studies . Yet, this dream hasn't come without a price. Besides my huge tuition cost (a number that pains me to write here), I started my programme late at King's College London. I'd been on a job in Arlington, Va., and couldn't get out of my lease. I began approximately two weeks late, bringing as much of my stuff with me as I could, along with a cat. I was also bringing some mysterious health disorder(s), some difficulty swallowing and a thyroid nodule deemed 'indeterminate'. Mom accused me of caring more for my education than my health. She wasn't wrong. However, I knew that I'd be on the NHS and in good...