Intelligence by Osmosis

I am listening to the Jacobites (current favorite: "I Believe in You"), tucked in my bed (I have view of the garden and this college's library - which has stained glass windows), it is a perfect night - windy, dark, and warm (like something mysteriously beautiful is about to happen...), open Virginia Woolf, at freaking Oxford. I am so incredibly smart right now. I don't know if we'll ever be able to converse on the same level again.

Oxford is lovely - cobblestone streets, smartly (which means much more than intelligence in the UK...) dressed men in sweaters and satchels, thrift stores (found the £1 bin and I finally feel like myself again...).  I went to Christ Cathedral on Sunday (where Harry Potter was filmed...). I don't think I've ever seen such adorable alter boys (ten singing little eight year-olds with chubby innocent faces...). The huge organ stood over the entrance, and beautiful shadows of sunlight drifted over the silver pipes  as the priest (? Anglican church...) delivered a really wonderful sermon exploring the nature of our somewhat (ha ha, okay...sometimes a little more...) "hidden" God. It was a service unlike anything I'm used to - very formal: all the priests (again ?) wore robes, and sang in Latin...but it was very beautiful. And the doorway was lit with the beginning of the day...(where a fountain with lily pads stood in the middle of the courtyard).

Okay, since everyone has been wondering what I've been doing when I'm not A. lying in graveyards, B. diving in piles of used clothing, or C. diligently drinking cider (I really don't understand why) I will reluctantly (ha ha. as if you all didn't know what a nerd I am...) summarize my classes:

Women, Culture, and Society in the Eighteenth Century

Yeah women! This class is taught by an adorable British stereotype: Glasses, patched tweed blazer, white hair, dark eyelashes, (when I wrote of him to Abi I forgot to mention he was between 60 - 80 years old and she thought he might be a love interest...well...what's 50 years anyhow?) mumbles in a very delightful way...about the (ha hmm)  shift in women's positions during this prolific century (yes, a lot of governesses, but I think it's incredible how much women did do, and how brave some were...I'll write more later.)

The Writings of Virginia Woolf

I just read A Room of One's Own in one sitting and cried through the last ten pages. It is such a beautiful, honest, true depiction of feminism (in my opinion) and the necessity of creating a community of women who support and encourage and critique each other in their writing. It was a speech she gave to a room full of women in the beginning of the 19th century. I can't imagine what it would have been like for a constantly oppressed woman to hear this: 

Above all, you must illumine your own soul with its profundities and its shallows and its generosities, and say what your beauty means to you or your plainness, and what is your relation to the ever-changing and turning world of gloves and shoes and stuffs...

So encouraging to a woman of today (especially this one)! And her beautiful and true combination of the profound and the mundane...I was not sure of her after finishing Jacob's Room (an incredibly hard, modern, and experimental little novel), but now she has every inch of my heart...

oh, also, obviously we're comparing Woolf's Modern (oh, yeah, it gets a capital letter) tendencies with the previous (ahhh..) Victorian Era. An era my tutor characterized as when "they saw God in everything," to which I was in class thinking Crap! that is so completely me...and my very many idealistic days spent exploring the sky....oh dear. I know there's pain and suffering and angst and dark deep bleakness too! (okay, I'm being ridiculous, but  I really know I'm sometimes very ridiculous).

Have you ever tried describing your moods by literary periods? Like, all punk-like, "I'm feeling so Post-Modern today. The whole world is misery, and isn't that hilarious!..."

Worlds Beyond Oxford: C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Philip Pullman

Yes, I'm reading children's lit for class. Yes, When I say I have to go do my homework I mean I have to go re-read The Golden Compass. Yes, I know you wish you were me.

Film Screenwriting

I am most uncertain of this class. I think I'm just scared of writing. The tutor (professors in UK lingo) is wonderful - very energetic and very much a typical writer's personality: passionate, funny...actually I really have to go do homework for this class right now. Watch In Bruges. I'll let you know how it is.

...LOVE you so so much...(and how I love these never-ending ellipses!...)

Quiet life in bath

Some lovely highlights:

Spent today at the organic garden pruning and making apple juice! (and had a delicious tea in between!) Made banana cake for tomorrow's harvest party (with my new friends there!)

and for tonight's Brinner!!! (breakfast for dinner (YES.)) with my flatmates. We had hash browns, french toast, mimosas, and...nutella.

Spent last night with all seven of my housemates eating (homemade) brownie sundaes and watching Aladdin. Yes, we are THAT adorable.

Practicing guitar chords.

Reading a lot.

Went to Dyrham (where Remains of the Day was filmed) on Friday. I could see Wales from the house...

Planned a trip to Dublin with (we really do do everything together...) all my housemates for a weekend in November!

Currently planning my fall break adventure through France and Italy with Jim!

Angst, Disillusionment, and Gardening!

I lost my hat at the club (yes, Maddie, one less for you to attempt to throw away...). I am experiencing great, existential despair and loss of identity. I am not sure I will recover. 

The Organic Gardening Community!!! I went to the local community garden and fell in love. I want to spend forever there. Tim the Gardener (I already found your replacement Dad!) was one of the most beautiful souls I've ever met. The sixty year-old man won me over with his love and belief in compost. Everyone there is wonderful, they were all having tea together when I had to leave to go to class. I can't wait to go back on Saturday to start weeding/composting/cultivating happiness...

I also discovered a beautiful graveyard just up the hill from my house. It is overgrown and lovely. I sat on a gravestone for a long time writing a letter and feeling the sun turn that golden color in the late afternoon...the hills were picturesque - green with quaint English houses...I laid down on the grass and I've never seen the sky so blue and void! I came back overwhelmed and so in love with God. I just wanted to lay there forever (I know I am being ridiculous! but I can't help it - nature evokes such joy in me...ha ha! but, oh how I relate to those Romantic poets...). Oh, and I finished a poem! Which is exciting.

I love you all so much! I hope I am not writing too much or too often, but soon I will be a slave to my studies....ha ha. Good night!

Going Underground

First off, I'll start with how much I love my flatmates - the residents of 31 Prior Park stay up late watching movies and comedy skits (latest: the hilarious British drag queen Eddie Izzard), have (AND make) dinner together, go watch the latest football (soccer, for you yanks) match at the Ram, have impromptu sing-a-longs, go together to market, are planning an epic thriller reenactment in Bath's main square, make midnight brownies (with Nutella), go out clubbing together...

which brings me to: Po Na Na. Yes, you are jealous. The underground Moroccan dance club (think stucco-like walls, low ceilings, and candle-lit rooms) recently had Cheese Night, an evening of absolute classics: Spice Girls, Buffalo Joe, Nsync, Footloose, S Club 7, everything 80s, and possibly every other wonderfully awful song (or artist) you've ever heard! And, let me add, I love  British men. No, you ridiculous romantics, it's not their eyes - it's their dancing! Because they dance with each other! These beautiful men have no qualms about grabbing another bloke's waist and waltzing round the dance floor! Fantastic! Cheese Night = massive eternal dancing success! (like my adaptive British slang?)

Now for today: Americans are Americans are Americans. Yes, Stonehenge was freaking amazing! (how the heck did THAT happen?!), the Salisbury cathedral was BEAUTIFUL (I don't know how to begin to describe it. It was like stepping into...I don't know...a huge blue dream...), I saw Snape's cauldron, and I love Yorkshire pudding, but the greatest part of today had to be when the Americans (all fifty of them) crashed the British birthday party. Oh yeah. Think charming celebration with a lovely band (beatles, beach boys, etc - all in the 50s swing style) having a nice old time, when, suddenly, the Americans come into the private back garden and start dancing (it seems to be one thing we've got down...). Completely took over. Got an 80 year-old British man to dance on top of a table (along with several others, including the inn keeper), brought out the American flag (yes, literally), and completely took the house down (our school staff included). 

Other side notes:

Transplanted the mint, basil, and parsley into bigger pots yesterday afternoon (Yes, Dad - I started a garden!)

Started doing my homework - reading children's literature! I get to read all 6 chronicles of narnia! and lord of the rings!

The English countryside is like being in heaven.

And, Abbey pals: worry no longer! I have plenty of dishes to do (8 people seem to bring in around the same sort of consistency as our beloved coffee shop! Even washed a french press today - that's right, you created a monster).

The Ram

Let me just say, everything you've imagined  is true: dark, inviting rooms, locals teasing The Americans ("Give him the full pint of the rough cider, Jimmy"), cricket, fish & chips, old, friendly Englishmen exchanging daily banter - everything. And, just a block away from my flat, The Ram (soon to be, if not already, "my" pub) is no exception.

My experience:

Hard Cider. Delicious. (I got the lighter brew, and just 1/2 a pint, despite Jimmy...)

Beans on Toast. (My reasoning: cheap and decidedly English) Bartender (Julian, who's, sadly, currently ailing from a bad hand that a drunk tourist fell on) : "You come all the way from America for beans on toast?! WE make much better than that, love!" (in his growly, thick English accent - yes: love).

Champagne. Just an inch of the most beautiful tasting stuff I've ever had.

Grocery Shopping = 8 Americans carrying orange bags half a mile across town to our (slightly) out of the way bungalow (never much for standing out...).

Tea. Everyday. Every hour.

Growing basil and mint in the kitchen window.

Tomorrow - THE LIBRARY.