Attempt

I don't typically write poetry. I tried it a while ago, but it all sounded stupid, so I gave it up. But this hit me a little while ago, since I've been thinking about this a lot. There's no England update today, so I thought I'd post this instead.

Oh, by the way, there's no title to it. I've found that picking a title for a piece is twice as hard as actually writing the thing.

You're doing it again.
That thing that I always hate -
When you creep into my head
And take up all the space I could be using for something else,
Something more productive,
Something less silly.

Sometimes it's the laugh I haven't heard,
Sometimes it's the smile I haven't seen,
Sometimes it's the way your fingers will link with mine.
But whatever it is -
Whenever it is -
It still unearths the same question:
Who are you?

I wonder if I've met you.
I may have known you forever and not known who you were -
What you would mean.
Or maybe you're still waiting,
Trapped in the page of the story that I haven't read yet.
In my head I imagine
What I will say when I realize
I've finally met you as you.
Probably something stupid - I usually do.

But probably I will just hold your hand,
Put my head against your shoulder.
It will be such a comfort to know you've found me.
But for now, I still sit and wonder,
Comparing everything to that thing a long time ago.
Don't judge me for that:
It seemed great at the time.

Will you watch happy movies and not find it weird when they make me cry?

Will you admit that the way I load the dishwasher is better?

Will you cry when our kids are born
And appease my late-night cravings for sandwiches?

What will make you happy?
What will make you sad?
What will make me rub your back and tell you that tomorrow is another chance?
Will you let me say that I'm terrified
Of the future - it has so many grottos and hollows
For tragedy and pain to hide.

Will you let me give up the biggest brownie,
The last slice of pizza,
The comfiest pillow in the house,
The first place in a line -
Just because I'm tickled to death
To have someone to share all that with?

Will you keep arguing with me even when I shut up?
That's the only way that we'll keep going, you know.

My world is full of mysteries right now.
I don't pretend to have everything figured out
And I won't act like it doesn't scare me.
But as far as you're concerned,
Know that I think about you a lot.
And I can't wait to meet you.

Whoever you are.

Nix the Days

I don't actually know if I should be writing, as I'm not exactly coherent. I'm currently sitting on top of my desk listening to Billy Connolly, and I'm seriously more tired than I have any right to be - today was the lightest day we've had so far. I've also lost count of what day we're on, and I don't feel like going back over and fixing the entries that I've titled wrong (...ly). So we're ditching the day numbers, combining two days, hopefully catching up on writing, and halting my lazy streak.

....Hopefully.

Friday was another orientation day, and after our two-hour session we were allowed to walk back to the dorm through the town of Cheltenham. First off, it was a BEAUTIFUL day: the sun was shining pretty enthusiastically for the first time since we'd arrived, and it was around 70 degrees.

PAUSE: We were taught to Celsius to Fahrenheit ratio. If you want to convert C to F, you take the C and divide it by 5, then multiply that number by 9 and add 32. Example: 15*C divided by 5 is 3, times 9 is 27, plus 32 is 59*F. Just in case you were curious.

Anyway.

The other bonus of Friday was that it was the once-every-fortnight (fourteen days - another English thing we've picked up) open farmers market in the middle of the promenade. There was one point when we were approaching a fruit stand and I could smell the fresh fruit before I saw what it was. HOLY COW.

The rest of Friday was spent just poking around Cheltenham: taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi in Starbucks, getting used to looking the opposite direction than the American way when we cross the street, getting sausage and mash for lunch for less than a pound, checking out the incredible three-story bookstore, picking up enough food to feed six people seven meals for less than 20 pounds. In theory we would work on homework last night to give us some time to travel and explore during the weekend, but I wound up Skyping my family and my roommate for almost four hours. Which was still pretty grand. : )

We were instructed by our professor to get out of the dorm and see things this weekend, but we started freaking out about how much homework we're facing down and how we couldn't plan a trip anymore in only a few hours to be ready to leave by this morning. So three of us chose the best of both worlds and took homework into town, starting at a small coffee shop for an English breakfast. I got black coffee, a scone, and clotted cream and jam.

It literally made me want to sing. I have never tasted anything like the cream before, and it was fantastic - combine the texture of melted cheese and whipped spread (a.k.a. fake butter), and that was the consistency of this thick cream. And the coffee was so rich on its own without any kind of added flavoring. It was, I venture to say, a beautiful breakfast.

In the middle of High Street (a major shopping street downtown), there's this awkward triangle area with a fountain next to a Starbucks. This was decided to be our study hub, and we camped out there for a few hours to do homework, get a little sunshine, watch the people, and hack the Starbucks' free internet. We went back to the dorm after a little while to do laundry and presumably get more homework done (guess how that worked out), then grabbed some really interesting smoothies for dinner. Mine had oatmeal, a banana, honey, and cinnamon. Interesting texture, but surprisingly filling and wonderful.

At 6.15 we headed out again, this time heading for one of the coolest theatres I've ever been in for its closing performance of "Beauty and the Beast." I've seen it twice before in small local theatres, and another girl with me had seen it on Broadway. But we all agreed that it was well worth the 15 pounds for nose-bleed seats. My gauge is tears: if I cry during a show, whether it be "oh my word, that's so sad" tears or "oh my word, that's so awesome" tears, it's done its job.

I cried a couple times. Mission accomplished.

When we were leaving, I realized that this was one of those rare unplanned moments that will stand out as a highlight of the trip. This morning we didn't even know that the show was being performed - we just noticed it as we were walking past the theatre after breakfast. And we debated whether or not we wanted to pay 15 pounds for a seat of a show that could be hit or miss, judging how some community theatres go. But we figured that we didn't have anything else to do for the rest of the day, it was relatively cheap for a ticket, and it was less than we were told it would be. And I realized also that if we had super-quick whipped a trip together, been gone this morning, and probably straggled back later all frustrated that we didn't plan far enough ahead of time, we completely would have missed it! Tonight was the closing performance - we wouldn't have had another opportunity to see it! It was so worth it: I would definitely count it as a highlight of the trip so far!

Tomorrow is another sit-around-and-maybe-think-up-something-to-do-but-probably-sit-around-and-do-homework day. I'm looking forward to my first official day to sleep in, and if it's open I might head downtown to a music shop where I saw a "sheet music for one pound" sign.

Because there's no such thing as too much sheet music. : )

Day 5 - Catching Up (Cheltenham Edition)

A free day in Cheltenham, so I'll try to post a few different entries about the past few days.

On Thursday we were supposed to leave the hostel at noon exactly. Some of our group decided to go fit in a little bit of sight-seeing before we left, but the rest of us took the opportunity to sleep in and take our time getting ready for the day. Around 10.30 a few of us went downstairs to grab breakfast, only to discover that the hostel wanted us out of our rooms by 11. With only four of the ten inhabitants of our room in the hostel (everybody else had gone out, thinking they had that extra hour to pack and clean up), we ran back upstairs and did a whirlwind through the room, dragging luggage down the four flights of tiny little stairs, hauling sheets and towels off beds to be taken downstairs, grabbing the other people's things and taking them loose downstairs to be distributed later.

At exactly 11, we were out and sitting in the lobby playing cards.

An hour later, our bus arrived, and we rode the two-and-a-half hours to Cheltenham.

A word about the English countryside, because we saw a lot of it. A lot of the time, it's gray - yesterday was the first day that it didn't rain. But it's not a nasty, dreary, Ohio gray. The rain makes the flowers incredible - they're so full and pretty. The grass and trees are this lush green, and the sprawling fields of color are such a huge part of the landscape that it really doesn't make you depressed that it's cloudy or rainy.

 

When we arrived in Cheltenham, we dumped our stuff in our room and had a little orientation with our English contacts who have been so helpful in getting us settled, making sure we're in the right place, and teaching us a little about English customs and culture. They gave us a little while to chill, then took us to a specifically-English dinner, as was requested by one of our profs. It was at a little place called the Carvery, and basically it's just a buffet with meat, vegetables, and Yorkshire pudding.

 

Let me just say that it was the first time on the trip that we were full. : )

 

Wednesday night was the first chance I got to Skype my family, which was fantastic. I keep thinking about my sister through all of this - it's the first time in a long time that I've travelled without her, and I wish she could see all of it, she would absolutely love it. But I got to tell her all about what was going on, she caught me up on everything happening at home, and that was so good to do. : )



Day 4 - Catching Up (London Edition)

Yes. I know. My daily blog has been a "I'm gonna write once and leave everybody hanging" thing. I'm so sorry. Mea culpa.

BUT.

I've had very good reason to not write as we've been running for the past two days, and this is the first chance I've really had to chill. Since Tuesday we've seen a bit, travelled a little, and walked a ton. But for now, the London highlights. (I'm splitting up the past few days into two entries because it could get a bit lengthy.)

Wednesday was by far the coolest day I've had on the trip. Maybe, actually, ever. We left our hostel around 10, bought day passes for the Tube (which, by the way, we successfully maneuvered. #win), and made our way down to the Thames to the famous GLOBE THEATRE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I realize that it's not the same one that Shakespeare worked with - that one burned down quite some time ago. But nonetheless....still awesome. The whole group saw "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in the afternoon, and it was INCREDIBLE. I'd never read or seen in before, so to see it live on the stage of the Globe was seriously the chance of a lifetime.

For those of you who have never seen the interior of the Globe, photos or otherwise, it's a circular theatre with seats all around the outside and a huge open area in the middle (which has no roof...we were thankful to have seats for the afternoon show as it poured down rain on the poor souls in the middle). Way back when, the middle- and upper-class would have sat in the three levels of seats, and the poor people would have paid their penny to stand in the center. Near the stage is a prime place to stand as you can lean against it - standing for three hours on a hard ground is a little taxing on the lower back - but we were warned by our tour guide that this opportune place comes with a price: the nearer you are to the stage, the more you're fair game for the actors. Example: in the evening we stood through "The Tempest," and at one point a character says something about eating his dinner. The actor grabbed a cup of beer from one of the nearby audience members, drank some of it, spat it out over the audience, and threw the cup of beer along with it. Another watcher got red paint all over his clothes when the same actor ran into him on his way of the theatre. So we stayed well near the middle and away from the stairs leading from the stage. A little sore, but at least not wet.

 

We grabbed a cheap pizza dinner between shows-

STOP. I know what you're thinking: "you go all the way to England and eat pizza." But before you scoff at our unwillingness to try new things, let me explain. In England (maybe not all England, but at this place at least), unless you explicitly ask for cheese on your pizza, you won't get any. We ordered one pizza with cheese (three different types, and none of this bagged mozzarella pish. Think creamy, fresh, wonderful cheese slathered on a crust) and another with four toppings in four different sections, and the only piece on that one that had cheese was the one that advertised having cheese. The others were just straight-up toppings on sauce and crust.

Wonky.

After dinner we booked it back over to the Globe for "The Tempest," which was pretty good but I didn't like it as much as the first show. To be honest (and probably to the chagrin of my English teachers) I didn't really understand most of the plot - I got the broad gist, but the details were a little fuzzy. But the costumes and effects were incredible, especially considering the simple set-up of the theatre. And one of my professors explained later that this play was Shakespeare's "farewell" to the stage somewhat; it was the last play that he wrote solo. Once we understood that, the final speech of the main character, the magician Prospero, became so much more impressive: Shakespeare was essentially giving up his art because he realized the power of his works over the common people, and he wondered if perhaps he had more power (potentially more dangerous power) than he should have. So cool, and a little chilling to think back about it.

It was about 10.30 by the time we finally got out of the Globe, and we successfully found our way back to the hostel via the Tube. We were all so exhausted that we went straight to bed, since we had another long day the next day, when we would leave London and head to Cheltenham.

And this, dear friends, is where I pause in this entry and go grab dinner. The next entry will pick up on our whirlwind exit of the hostel and our journey to the university in Cheltenham. Stay tuned - it's gonna be good. : )

Day 1 - Under the Union Jack

A lull. For the first time in twenty-four hours (I think....I can't remember anymore), I'm sitting. Not with somewhere else to go, not with something to worry about. Just sitting. In my pajamas. Nice and clean. On a hostel bed.

In London.

Today and yesterday have been on the longest combined days I've spent in a very long time. Monday morning we left our house around 10.30 to get to airport two-and-a-half hours before my departure. After a frantic "we might not make the early flight but we might if we run," we made it onto the early flight from Chicago to London. Nights on a plane being what they are, I am currently running on about two full hours of sleep. But that made no difference when we were dumped off at our hostel this morning around 10 and told to go explore.



So with no more guidance or direction than that....we went exploring.

You could really look at our day in two ways. First, you can argue that it was a really crappy first day. And you'd be perfectly justified. For one thing, the weather was ready to beat us when we arrived at the hostel this morning. It started raining around eleven and had just stopped when we got back around four this afternoon. This wasn't too promising when we yanked out our maps time and time again, only to have them completely fall apart under the freezing-cold rain. And though London doesn't seem that big, it can be fairly large when you walk past the same spot four times saying, "I'm sure this is the right way." By the time we got back to the hostel, we were soaking wet, frustrated, sore, exhausted, hungry, and wondering whose bright idea it was to turn us loose with a little map and a "have fun."

But then....

We sat on a ledge under an awning and had lunch across from Big Ben - we even got to hear him chime! We saw the Tate Gallery, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, the House of Parliament, the London Eye, that gate that only the Queen can drive through, and the AWESOME fountain outside Buckingham Palace. We got seriously, SERIOUSLY lost (not "we were in danger and fighting off hoodlums" lost - just a "this is our first time in this city and we have no idea where the heck we are" lost), and through know-how, some very cute gentlemen who just happened to be around every time we decided to ask for directions (human. yes. I am human), and some inner Pocahontas blood that one of us possesses, we made it back to our hostel.

And get this: we walked. We didn't take the Tube, we didn't take a taxi (mostly because we didn't know how to call one and neither one of us wanted to look like an idiot by trying), and we didn't take a bus. We walked the whole thing.

And the only money we spent was on lunch.

WIN.

Tonight will be spent nursing blisters (not me) and catching up on sleep (that'd be me). In the morning we're heading to the GLOBE THEATRE!!!!!!!! to see "The Tempest" and "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Standing up. Potentially in the rain. Rockin' it Elizabethan style.

Because really: if you're gonna come all the way to London, why wouldn't you be epic? :)

I might not have a chance to write tomorrow - the internet at the hostel costs a pound for 24 hours, and it'll be free once we hit Cheltenham on Thursday. But we're all safe, happy, healthy, and excited for the days ahead! Much love to my family - we'll talk soon :)

Post

Describe a time when you felt sorry for someone.

Sometimes I wish I could have seen somebody about four hours before I actually see them. It's like zooming out with a camera so you get a better perspective. What put that smile on your face? What wiped away the one you had earlier? What has heaped on your shoulders and pulled your head down?

When we were in Boston this summer, one of my favorite things to do was just watch people. I love doing that when I travel different places: it reminds me of how alike we are, regardless of where we're from. People everywhere are trying to better themselves, get through each day, raise their families, find love, discover something worth smiling at - these inate desires are universal. Unfortunately pain is universal as well. Every day people see death, lose friends, experience disappointment, hear bad news, give bad news. And to the strangers around them, it's just another day. Or so they think - no doubt those strangers are hiding something with a blank stare as well.

The "blank stare" is the hallmark of public transportation, and nowhere else is that more evident than in big cities. Traffic in Boston is hellacious, so smart people use buses or the subway, or just walk. By the end of our four days there, we were familiar with ("pros at" would be a generous overstatement) the subway, or the "T". On one of our last days, we were on a crowded bus on our way back to our hotel. Everyone on it was tired; the ride was silent as people leaned against windows with closed eyes or quietly watched the buildings crawl past. At one stop a woman got on and sat next to me, and I could tell she'd been crying. I wondered what had happened to her that day, what had crushed her blank face, caused her to crack the stoic front and let the hurt run down her cheeks. I had on my "I'm not in my small midwest town so I should keep to myself" face, and I thought I should just leave her alone. But after a little while I pulled out from my bag a left-over napkin from lunch and offered it to her. She smiled and declined, and soon she got off the bus.

I still have the napkin, taped in my journal as a reminder of the humanity that surrounds me. Everybody has a story; everyone has a hurt. It's good to remember that as I interact with people on a daily basis. Before you act, think about what that person experienced over the past four hours. Give everyone a little room to act in response to their situations. Be gentle; you don't know who may be near their breaking point. You may be the nudge that pushes them over or away from the edge.

Options

When I was eight, I had such a definite idea of how my life would play out. My uneventful childhood would cross into an uneventful adulthood. I wouldn't have to worry about money or watching my weight - somehow all of that would be magically taken care of without me worrying about them too much. I would live next door to my parents (apparently my neighbors were planning on moving out) and host family Thanksgiving at my house (my sister would take care of Christmas). When we were old enough (in ten years), my at-the-time boyfriend and I would get married, and I would be a pilot, like my dad. I was a church-going, sword-drill-winning Christian because everybody at my school was a church-going, sword-drill-winning Christian (they had a one-up on me, though, because they all went to AWANA and I didn't), and my faith would be that simple probably forever. I tolerated my younger siblings but was pretty sure we'd have nothing to do with each other when we grew up. (My sister once told me that I'd be the one in our family with the tattoos and face piercings. In our small world that was the epitome of rebellion, and after that I swore we'd never be friends again.) And with any luck, my hell of practicing piano for twenty minutes every day would soon be coming to a close: I had told my parents and teacher that I was finished, and finished I intended to be.

When you're eight, you don't realize how much of a life you have stretching before you. If you get your timing right and die on your eighty-fifth birthday, you watch over 31,000 days. And while I was busy sitting at my desk in third grade, writing out the names of my future kids, I had no idea that I'd seen less than three thousand of those days, several hundred of which I don't remember. Oh, sure, I understood the broad outline: school/college, married, kids, work, dead. But I had no idea what I'd see during - and even in between - those stages.

In several months I will be twenty-one, but sometimes I feel like that eight-year-old, planning my life. "After graduation, I'll get a job at the school where I do my student-teaching, and after I get some experience I'll go somewhere else and eventually wind up where my passion leads me." But I have to remember the expectations I had at eight and how differently my life has turned out. Frets about money and how the world perceives me are on my mind almost hourly. With their newly-remodeled kitchen, my neighbors probably aren't leaving any time soon; but that's alright with me, since I'm not planning on living in my home state forever anyway. I have felt something yanking on my heart (which I'm pretty sure is my Isa telling me where He wants me), and it's definitely not as a pilot. My relationship with church and "Christians" has not been the best, particularly in the last few years. With bad experience after bad experience with Pharisees masquerading as followers of Christ and churches that are based more on politics and finances than the Word of God, my view of much connected with ministry is backed by a little glare. I didn't foresee the situations when I'd sit in front of my mirror and say to my reflection, "What the hell are you doing?" I didn't imagine being more comfortable in a secular environment than I am at my religious university. When my dad said I'd be allowed to date at fourteen, I didn't think I'd be waiting until I was seventeen to actually start, and then reach a point after almost four years of not dating that it was fine, that I'm actually content to not have anybody, even though the books and movies say my "clock" is running out. (And I'm graduating two years from now and apparently college is one of the last prime places to meet a guy. So I've heard.) And I certainly didn't plan on my parents overriding my declaration to quit piano lessons; I eventually completed twelve years, and even three years after quitting, the first thing I do when I go home on breaks is play my piano for a solid hour - it's become so much a part of me, I can't imagine that I ever wanted to quit.

I've heard my entire life that life is short, but in the past week I've heard that it's long - very, very long. And I forget that when I look at where I am: within two years of jumping off one ledge onto another, very different one. All I can see right now is the gap that I'm about to leap; I can't see the plateau that I'm jumping to, with its new hills and crags and valleys to explore. (And now I'm sounding like a bad graduation speech.) I forget that I have so much life to live. In the grand scheme of things, I'm young and inexperienced and clumsy and a royal mess. How in the world can I, at twenty years old, expect to have things figured out and organized and under control? That's like handing a toddler a jacked-up car motor and saying, "Fix this, will you?" That's dumb.

Anyway. Exam week is coming up, which won't be half as bad as the week before exam week. Papers, books, analyses, quizzes....heaven preserve us.