Regrets and Musings in the Starbucks on Cornmarket

It is now the fourth day since I’ve been to Oxford and it is a little unnerving how shy I’ve turned out to be. Perhaps it is my accent which evokes such a degree of self-consciousness that I dare not venture beyond “yeah”, “nope” and the occasional burst of short phrases. I feel terribly ashamed of this, especially since I once prided myself to be able to fit in anywhere if I wanted to. My mom laughed when I told her that I would only explore the college grounds when no one’s around. She also said that it took her half a year to be able to speak freely when she was in Japan and that I will probably need one month or so. I think a month is entirely out of proportion because I’ve known English all my life and she only started learning Japanese for six months then. It should take me around a week or so. And that is the limit I have set for myself. I should be able to babble away as I used to by then, especially then because that is when all the freshers arrive.

My search for Internet failed today because I didn’t realize Starbucks had such a limited standing in the UK. I saw the “TMobile Wi-Fi Hotspot” sign outside all the Starbucks and thought, Wonderful, that’s my last resort. As it were, I took a wrong turn and ended up in Cornmarket Street which means Coffee Republic’s way behind. I could’ve walked a little more and made a discreet turning somewhere had it not started raining. So I dashed into the nearest Starbucks and thought I’d probably be spending just a few more pence than I planned to. Not sure about the price difference but I definitely did not go online. Damn me for thinking that it’s like in Singapore and Malaysia, where Wi-Fi Hotspot meant Free Wi-Fi Hotspot. It’s also kinda sad to think that Starbucks can’t afford to provide its patrons with free Wi-Fi over here. Well, at least I have something to eat now and a decent mug of Caffé Americano. Ha…I remember asking Xj to order Americano instead of the usual Mocha Latte in Coffee Bean just a few days before she left. I think Starbucks does a more wholesome one.

Hmm… I am actually thinking of specializing in coffees and teas instead of wines. Seems much cheaper and comes much more naturally to me coz for wines I tend to get distracted by the jolt of alcohol. Randomly, I wonder which red wine did Xj and I have in The Tent.

I also wonder how many times have I watched Saiyuki Reload Burial—Sanzo Chapter. It’s as if I watch it to drive away the loneliness and it really doesn’t help that no one’s around. I really mean No One. That, mixed with a feeling of impending doom, a restlessness that doesn’t allow me to stay indoors, a nagging voice that says you actually DO have lots more chores to do (when I DON’T) and the feeling that Hell I’m in Oxford I should be prowling the streets or at least the college grounds everyday! Just this afternoon, I fell asleep on the easy-chair while reading Gurdjieff and was startled to wakefulness at three thinking, what have I gotten myself into? Why am I here? But I think I’ve nearly sorted out this feeling, helped tremendously by the fact that it’s Thursday already and my mom referring to these few days as a struggle. I thought I liked to be alone. And I do, but I suppose I just need to eliminate the little devilish voice that goes, you should be doing something, and I’ll be fine. I think it’s fine if I stay in. I will explore the streets and the grounds but not now, right now I need to focus on settling in, getting my bearings, knowing what I’ll need and what I lack. Not to run around every day, visiting the museums and all. I’ll do that next holiday. Loads of time then. Oh fine, I’ll probably also get my gown tomorrow since that’s the strongest argument the devilish little voice has. And I’ll go to Coffee Republic tomorrow morning to check my email and download a few games. Other than that, I’ll STAY IN and read Gurdjieff or the dictionary or sth, maybe get a newspaper.

Oh and one last thing, a thing that cheered me up considerably. I found a brochure and a letter in my pidg about Language Courses in Oxford. I nearly put it away, thinking it’ll be like those brochures I got in NUS about English remedial classes for all PRs, until I saw the word French. Turns out, for £20 per term I’ll be able to have French lessons. Oh, the joy. I’ll stop by the Language Center tomorrow or Saturday to sign up for the lessons. That’s it; I declare writing to be highly therapeutic and an important aid in all psychological treatments.