Tropical drinks and a story.

Hello there readers! I know there probably aren't many of you, there may not be any actually, but I don't really care because I feel odd not addressing this to someone. I should be writing an essay right now on the tragedy of Dido, but instead I'm sitting in bed rather tired and procrastinating. I've been having trouble sleeping as I think I mentioned last week, and alcohol seems to be the only cure. Last night I may have taken a bit too much of that remedy unfortunately...

I really didn't want to deal with another night of insomnia so I had a glass of wine during a pub quiz, and then another couple of glasses at the lovely Jonny's house while watching Black Books and Blackadder! I danced home listening to the Turtles and then found coconut rum on the counter. I had a smoothie in the fridge, so I mixed it with what was left of the bottle, and made a delicious tropical beverage. I felt like I was on a cruise in the caribbean, it was great! But this morning when I woke up I did not feel great. I still do not feel great actually, and I really need to write this essay. But instead I have a treat for you! I just came across some creative writing that I did last year. It's a strange story, but I would like to share it with you. It coincidentally works with the theme of this blog! I've never liked titles for things because I think  they spoil the surprise, so this story does not have a name. Well...here it is:

All I know is that the days were beginning to last a little longer, or at least it seemed that way. Unfortunately it is hard to tell when the only brief glimpses of light that you see are cast through a veil of grey. One day fades into the next and the exact time is unclear. I was spending a lot of time inside with no real obligations or any schedule in place. Humperdinck was growing restless cooped up inside with me, and I did feel occasional pangs of guilt, but I suppressed them by sleeping or taking long scented baths to avoid his wistful wide-eyed gaze. I mostly stayed in the two upstairs rooms even though the rest of the house was empty. It’s hard to occupy such a large space when you’re all alone, or mostly all alone except for Humperdinck of course, and the servants. But I only saw them once or twice a day when they brought me my usual tray of assorted marmalades and toast to accompany my many pots of tea. I thought that the tea would give me motivation, but all it did was make me jittery and stain my teeth. Humperdinck didn’t like tea.

I don’t know when it was because that whole period of time felt like one endless day, but during one of my long scented baths I fell into the grey or rather, the gold. I wish I could explain it in more eloquent terms, but it’s difficult to say exactly what happened. I was soaking in some exotic blend of rose water, saffron and milk, and all around me were tiny rosebuds and little purple flecks of lavender. I remember lying there with my ears below the rim of the water so that I could listen to the tub make the sound of a giant seashell. I was watching the flowers floating and began to feel that I was one of them. I was no longer the one reclining in the tub, I was weightless and purple. Then Humperdinck came in. I watched him walk across the bathroom but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move because I wasn’t me anymore, I was suspended on the surface of the water listening to the seashell hum.

What happened next is still a mystery to me, but I’ll do my best to explain it. I was plunged into the depths of the milky water, inhaling the spicy sweet silk. At first I felt it suffocating me and I panicked. This was the end I thought. But suddenly the water calmed and I sank straight down through the motionless warmth until I landed on a stretch of white porcelain that extended as far as my eyes could see. I was no longer in water, but in open humid air. The sky was a pearly rose gold and there in front of me, sitting on a jeweled throne was Humperdinck. His paws were crossed, his expression dour.

“What is this place?” I asked. He continued to stare at me, motionless, as he flicked his tail. I waited a while for him to say something, but patience has never been one of my strengths so I broke the silence. “Why did you jump into my bath?” Humperdinck sighed. He slowly uncrossed his heavy marble paws.

“You’ve been here before, and you’ll be here again” he purred, his tongue making the sound of a boulder rolling through a cave. I could feel the agitation in his voice. “You have a job to do.” He stood and took a few steps forward, and the throne disappeared behind him. He waved one massive paw in front of him like I’d seen him do to his prey in the garden and there appeared a large wooden door with the words ‘Nubes Regis Vides’ written in diamond dust across the top. He motioned for me to open it. I hesitated for a moment, but I didn’t see many other options, so I pushed it. The door swung open and pulled me inside I was swept off my feet and landed in a field of purple grass that smelled of lavender. I got to my feet and looked up. Above me were thousands of diamond-encrusted rosebuds packed together to form dense clouds. I stood for a moment in awe of the things, but quickly remembered what Humperdinck had said. I looked around for him and suddenly he appeared leaning against what looked like a large foot.

“What is my job?” I asked. He pointed to the clouds.

“You need to retrieve one and bring it to me. I am the king, and they are my clouds, but I cannot reach them.”

“How is it that you are so much taller than I am and can’t reach the clouds?” I asked. He did not respond. But suddenly a long rope ladder made from gold braid dropped from the sky, and I caught hold of it.

I began to climb.

It seemed as though I was going to climb that thing forever, and no matter how high I climbed, the clouds never got any closer. I looked down to see how far away Humperdinck was now, and the ladder began to move up towards the clouds. I strengthened my grip and let it pull me up so fast I could feel my eyelids peel back.

Everything went white and the ladder felt like it had stopped. I opened my eyes and I was naked in the empty tub, the marble cat nowhere to be found.

“Humperdinck?” I cried. But my voice sounded choked and stilted the way your voice sounds when you wake up screaming from a dream that you were so convinced was real. I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear the golden mist from my brain. After a moment I realized that my fist was clenched. It felt like something solid and heavy was waiting inside of it. I uncurled my fingers and opened my hand. There on my open palm was a tiny diamond encrusted rosebud. 

When I got this story back from my professor he had written on it, 'direct but shrouded in mystery.' What does that even mean?  That might be my favorite thing that any professor has written on a piece of my writing! I hope you enjoyed that, and please click some of the links above, I picked them out specially! Ooo really do click on the one that says 'I have a treat for you.' It's the best (or worst depending on your personality) thing you will ever see! 

Godspeed friends! Until next time! 

Nostalgia, insomnia, instant coffee, Wednesdays, and weekends.

It's been a little over a week since my last blog post, so I thought it was high time for another!

Wednesdays are the one day of the week that I actually extract myself from bed at a reasonable hour to have breakfast with my lovely friend Jonny! We meet halfway between our houses at a little place in Jericho (my favorite neighborhood of Oxford). Last night I participated in my first ever pub quiz, and drank a bit too much wine, so I was particularly out of sorts this morning. I've been having a terrible time sleeping the past few weeks, and last night was an especially difficult night. The wine put me to sleep initially, but only for about 3 hours, and then I awoke with extreme thirst and commenced to toss and turn for the rest of the night until my hideous alarm went off and I decided it was time to start the day. Needless to say, I've been a bit off all day and have needed many cups of coffee to keep me functioning like a regular human being. Well...maybe not a regular human being, as coffee has the tendency to turn me into a trembling rat-like creature who speaks in seemingly indiscernible streams of consciousness. Somehow my friend Kate manages to witness me in this state every time it happens. She probably thinks I'm insane. But no matter! Maybe it's a glimpse into my true nature.

During my after lunch cup of coffee (cup number 3, and just so you know, I am very sensitive to caffeine) at St. Benet's Hall, I sat next to Kate and her gentleman friend on one of the couches and noticed that there were a couple of pillows stacked up next to me. In my ridiculous state, I decided it would be a wonderful idea to make a wall of pillows to separate myself from them. I think in my head it was because I didn't want to invade their coupledom after realizing that I had made myself a couch third wheel. I guess I didn't think they would really notice, but they did. Kate's gentleman friend laughed, pretending to be offended. Kate's response to this was to take one of the pillows and wedge it between herself and said gentleman friend so that he was isolated by pillow dividers. I decided I would explain what was happening to her gentleman friend (let's call him Brogey to make things a little easier). So, I explained to Brogey in my caffeine induced stupor, that were were trying to maintain our individuality like groceries on one of those supermarket conveyor belts and that WE WOULDN'T WANT TO GET MIXED UP WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S GROCERIES NOW WOULD WE????? Yes that is how my mind works on caffeine, and the caffeine is still pumping through the veins now if you haven't noticed from the way I have composed this post.

On to bigger and better things...

How about a weekend recap?! Well, you have no choice because this is my blog and that means I get to write whatever I want! So, on Thursday night the rowing team had one of their infamous crew dates (the horror!). I decided to attend as I was on the rowing team until just a few weeks ago when I decided it was too much of a time commitment and was tired of sore muscles and blisters. There is an Indian restaurant called 'Jamals' where every team/society/organization in Oxford seems to gather together for drunken shenanigans. This crew date was with a female drinking society who refer to themselves as the 'Rabbits.' We were calling ourselves the Brasenose chess club. On these crew dates it is customary to bring your own alcohol, (preferably several four-packs of beer or liters of cider) and you pour this alcohol into a pint glass provided begrudgingly by Jamal's staff in order to make yourself vulnerable to 'pennying' and 'sconcing.' There are also the lovely traditions of "A shoe's a shoe," "ibble dibble," and "one fat hen, a couple'a ducks"...and that's as far as I can usually get. Basically, these are exciting drinking games which leave you crawling out of Jamal's and blearily wandering the streets Oxford in a herd of smelly drunken men who are a danger to themselves and others. Well...I usually end up in a herd of smelly drunken men being the only girl who usually attends these crew dates (because I am on an all male rowing team, and the cox, who is a girl (and the most wonderful girl in the world!!!!) doesn't like to attend these kinds of events because she is wise and dainty).

Anyway, to wrap this up, I ended up at the sweaty turtle and danced like a maniac much to the horror of a few of my less drunk rowing compadres. The night ended with my stumbling up the steps to my house and spilling chippy cheese everywhere, then passing out with all my clothes on sprawled out on my bed.

That's all I can really say for now, as I really should have posted this yesterday, so goodnight and good luck!

the middle is the best beginning.

So, I've decided that it is finally time to start a blog. I would say that I've been meaning to start one since my arrival in Oxford, but saying that would be a lie. I wanted to start 'in medias res' just as all my favorite things start. So, the fourth week of the eighth week of the middle term at Oxford seems like the best possible place to start my blogging adventures.

I started to give you readers a little taste of what I've been up to since starting my year in Oxford, but that wouldn't really be starting in the middle now would it? You'll just have to piece things together as this blog progresses. It's much more fun that way! I've already given you a few lovely tidbits, and I may have a recap of them at the end of this post. 

Moving on...

This morning (well more like this afternoon because I rarely see morning if I can help it) I was standing in line at Greens Café to get a smoothie, I was only sort of aware of my surroundings because I still had that dizzy foggy sort of feeling in my head and was hearing the lunch crowd in the cafe as white noise. Occasionally certain things would pop out at me from the buzzy blurriness, a woman was getting upset at the ladies behind the counter because they had forgotten about her soup, and were taking a very long time to put her apple cake into a takeaway container. I finally got to the cash register after what felt like years, and the ladies ignored me, they were busy helping the other people in line who were ordering sandwiches and things. So I stood there looking like an idiot, while the people behind me were paying for their foody whatnots. The more eager I was to pay and leave, the more aware I was becoming of the hideous music and the loud chatter of people who were probably reaching the middle of their day by that point. By the time I shoved my way out of the frightening throng, I was actually quite awake and ready to start a completely uninteresting day. 

My mornings in Oxford are no longer filled with elated heart palpitations brought on by new scenery and my outlook is no longer optimistically anxious. Instead I grumpily wrench myself out of bed and stumble down cobblestone alleyways in search of caffeine and reading material. But on the upside, I am no longer living under the assumption that every English person I pass on the street is giving me a disapproving look because they can sense my Americanness! Nope! I can say with some confidence that I know my way around a bit now and can kind of appear to know what I'm doing! 

In Oxford, and maybe all of England, couldn't say for sure, people in shops and restaurants seem to really hate their jobs. Not all of them, but it is definitely a majority. For the most part going to cafés or into shops is not a pleasant experience, so you try to get in and out as quickly as you can with the fewest possible words exchanged. You must mentally prepare yourself for cold and awkward interactions with people before you leave home. It's not so bad once you get used to it actually. It's nice not having to force conversations with strangers, especially when you've just woken up! 

Last night I partook in a wonderful American tradition, (that I found out is only 45 years old!) the Superbowl. I don't really like football, I actually find it quite boring and ridiculous, but I still really enjoy watching the Superbowl. Any excuse to eat, drink, and be merry is likely to be a good time. I also really enjoy watching the commercials and making up my own little rules because I don't know the actual ones. My favorite one is every time I see a pile of men I get to eat a cookie. Another is every time a person runs for more then 15 seconds I yell something like 'whoa!' to imply that I know what's going on and that I saw something that nobody else did. Then I mumble to myself like I'm really impressed with what just happened. I don't think people notice most of the time, and if they do they probably politely ignore it. 

Half time this year was ridiculous. The Black Eyed Peas performed and it seemed like everything went a bit wrong. Fergie was off key and too loud, part of the light display that was supposed to read 'love' read 'Loie' because part of the 'v' was not illuminated. Usher made an appearance but I don't think his mic was on, so he mostly just gave an impressive dance performance, and to end the big finale, one of the dudes, I guess the main dude, whoever he is, said "that was mega." Or at least, that's what we thought we heard him say after watching the end of the performance twice. So we, we being a few of my housemates that didn't run off to bed at like midnight to be super studious and I, decided that the new hip catchphrase for 2011 is going to be 'megaloi.' There are a few ways this beautiful phrase can be incorporated into every day language; one is "Dude I megaloi you." Another usage might replace the phrase 'much love' with 'megaloi.' If you wanted to find a way to sing the phrase you could replace the words to Mongoloid by Devo with "megaloid he was a megaloid..." which changes the meaning of the song a bit, but in a really upbeat way I think. Finally, possibly the best and naughtiest way to use this phrase is as a pickup line "Let's megaloi" or "is that a gun in your pocket or do you want to megaloi!"...if you wanted you could add "baby" to the end of either of those, but that's of course based on personal preference. 

On that note, I will say goodbye for now because it's gotten a bit late. Sorry this was a bit of a long post, I wasn't sure when to end it, but I think I chose a really excellent spot! Hope that was somewhat enjoyable, and here is the recap of tidbits I promised earlier:

I said I was in the fourth week of my second term of the one year I'm spending at Oxford from America. I live in a house full of people who are also studying in Oxford for the year in my program. (That was a little extra tidbit that I didn't really explain in the post). Well join me again sometime for my tales of pursuing cats in grape trees, and maybe at some point that name will make sense. I promise these posts will get more interesting!