So it was borne in on me that I hadn't posted an update to this thing in quite awhile. And I said "This must not be!!"
I'm still in the process of uploading pictures. I finally got all my beautiful Canterbury and Oxford and Hampton Court Palace pictures off my camera, but it's a slow process to transfer them to disk and take them to an internet computer. They'll be up eventually. I'm also trying to rearrange my photo album to make it slightly more logical. Ha. Good luck to me.
I went to Bath two weekends ago, home of various Regency Romance novels and also the place where Jane Austen (ah, peerless Jane!) lived for five years. It doesn't say much for Bath that she didn't, apparently, write a word the entire time she was there. Guess she was a country girl at heart. She did portay Bath in her first novel, Northanger Abbey and her last, Persuasion. Two very different views of Bath that are interesting to compare and contrast, although you have to keep in mind that she wrote the two novels at wildly different times in her life.
In addition to paying homage at the Jane Austen Centre, I also went to the Roman Baths and the Museum of Costume. All three places were really neat (although I didn't personally learn anything new at the JA Centre) and the Roman Baths in particular were fascinating for the amount of stuff that they've recovered there. In fact, something like 2/3 or 3/4 of the original Roman complex is still underground, having not been excavated because most of Bath is on top of it. Yeah, that'll hold back the ol' funding.
If you're interested in fashion and the history of fashion, the M of C is pretty cool too. It has vintage clothing and explanations of what they were made of, how politics and social attitudes informed fashion, and other stuff like that.
Bath itself is a beautiful city. It's a city ordinance that all new buildings must be made of a particular kind of white masonry called Bath stone, so when the train (or bus) comes up on Bath, all you see is this froth of white stone, spilling up and down the hillsides, shining in the sun. In its own way, it's breathtaking.
I stayed at the Bath Backpacker's Hostel which was a fun and funky place if you are ever in the area.
I didn't do anything so fun last weekend, although I did go into London to have a visit with my uncle and his family, who were in town for the weekend, and I wound up seeing "Grease" with them. That was a lot of fun, especially since it was last-minute and I didn't have time to build it up in my head. It was fun and cute, if terribly terribly loud (my seat was close to the speakers) and whoa! a lot more raunchy than I remembered either the movie or my high-school's production being. Still a grand evening.
Welp, it's late for me. Time to share my Book of the Day and get on home.
Book for Today: Wyrd Sisters by Terry Pratchett. A merciless send-up of Macbeth, set in Pratchett's Discworld and amongst the usual lunacy that this ensues. Just to give you an idea of the total nonserious parodic fun, the first page features this exchange: (in appropriate witch voice) "When shall we three meet again?" (normal voice) "Well, I can do next Tuesday." Pratchett and Discworld are always good for a story that's unpredictable, somewhat loony, and surprisingly thoughtful.
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Sunday, March 02, 2003
For the first time since I got here, I'm crabby about the public transport system. (You can stop laughing any time now, Flint.) I was at a friend's last night, and realized that it was late, but I still had ample time to catch the last bus. Well, we went out there . . . and waited. And waited. We waited the 20 minutes between buses on a Saturday night, then 20 more just in case. No bus. GRRRRRRRRR!! The thought of the night bus filled me with fear, so we ended up staying the night at this friend's, sleeping on his couch. Sigh. I woke up at some ungodly hour this morning, caught the second bus of the day, and went to sleep in my own bed about half an hour later. Anyway . . . that was my adventure for last night . . .
Yesterday was nice, though. My friend Katy called me up to go see Hampton Court Palace, which is (and I didn't know this) quite handy to where we are, just one bus change. The palace is nice and interesting and historical, but for me, I really loved the grounds. They're HUGE and filled with plants and flowers and growing things and statues and fountains. The kewl thing is, it's free to just wander around the gardens. You only pay to see the palace itself. Here's some pictures for y'all. Most of them are of the palace proper, because the millions that I took of the grounds are either on my film camera, which will be developed this week sometime, or on the big digital card that my computer isn't reading because it's being a brat.
Click! A random corridor, inside Hampton Court palace. I liked the look of it though. Apparently there is a corridor that's supposed to be haunted by one of Henry's wives who got beheaded. After her trial, but obviously before her beheading, she escaped from her guards and rocketed down the corridor toward the royal chapel, pounding on the doors and screaming to be let in. If she got inside, she would get asylum (being in a place of worship) and also, Henry VIII was worshipping at the time, and she believed that she could beg him to spare her life. However, he ignored her and kept praying (isn't that just sick and wrong?) and the guards caught up with her, and off with her head. So now Catherine runs up and down the corridor, screaming to be let into the chapel, on dark nights. Brrrrr. This isn't that corridor though.
Click! The fountain in the inner courtyard. Can't you imagine some ladies in huge wigs and dresses sweeping around that walkway?
Click! Ooo . . . that's a little dark. Sorry about that. It was overcast yesterday . . . well, it is England! It's the front view of the Palace as you're walking up the drive. It's one heck of a sight. Must have been even more flabbergasting to the court, knowing how rich Cardinal Wolsey and later on good old Hal 8 must have been to not only build it, but afford the upkeep. It's like a city all by itself.
Click! Here's a better one, taken just inside the front entrance of the first courtyard you pass through. There's about three.
Click! Here is a funky little inner garden that I discovered by goingthrough the wrong door. If I were a lady in waiting, I'd sneak off there to be away from all the noise and heat and hypocrisy of the court--wouldn't you?
Click! Okay, remember how I said the place was like a city all by itself? This view is part of the kitchens. That's right, the kitchens. They were so huge that they got subdivided all over the place.
Click!After the king stopped living at Hampton Court Palace regularly, and such huge kitchens weren't needed anymore, the kitchens were actually converted into tiny flats for royal servents who had done their duty well and deserved a reward for putting up with royalty all those years. Even today, some people still live on Fish Court, pictured here.
So that's Hampton Court Palace, or some of it anyway. Katy and I only did half the tours available, and you weren't allowed to take pictures in a lot of the rooms. Sigh. It's a very neat place, and the gardens really are amazing if you don't want to pay the admission charge.
No book for today. Sorry. I already told you about The Secret Garden and the other stuff I'm reading now is all boring Victorian literature that I wouldn't recommend to anybody.
Yesterday was nice, though. My friend Katy called me up to go see Hampton Court Palace, which is (and I didn't know this) quite handy to where we are, just one bus change. The palace is nice and interesting and historical, but for me, I really loved the grounds. They're HUGE and filled with plants and flowers and growing things and statues and fountains. The kewl thing is, it's free to just wander around the gardens. You only pay to see the palace itself. Here's some pictures for y'all. Most of them are of the palace proper, because the millions that I took of the grounds are either on my film camera, which will be developed this week sometime, or on the big digital card that my computer isn't reading because it's being a brat.
Click! A random corridor, inside Hampton Court palace. I liked the look of it though. Apparently there is a corridor that's supposed to be haunted by one of Henry's wives who got beheaded. After her trial, but obviously before her beheading, she escaped from her guards and rocketed down the corridor toward the royal chapel, pounding on the doors and screaming to be let in. If she got inside, she would get asylum (being in a place of worship) and also, Henry VIII was worshipping at the time, and she believed that she could beg him to spare her life. However, he ignored her and kept praying (isn't that just sick and wrong?) and the guards caught up with her, and off with her head. So now Catherine runs up and down the corridor, screaming to be let into the chapel, on dark nights. Brrrrr. This isn't that corridor though.
Click! The fountain in the inner courtyard. Can't you imagine some ladies in huge wigs and dresses sweeping around that walkway?
Click! Ooo . . . that's a little dark. Sorry about that. It was overcast yesterday . . . well, it is England! It's the front view of the Palace as you're walking up the drive. It's one heck of a sight. Must have been even more flabbergasting to the court, knowing how rich Cardinal Wolsey and later on good old Hal 8 must have been to not only build it, but afford the upkeep. It's like a city all by itself.
Click! Here's a better one, taken just inside the front entrance of the first courtyard you pass through. There's about three.
Click! Here is a funky little inner garden that I discovered by goingthrough the wrong door. If I were a lady in waiting, I'd sneak off there to be away from all the noise and heat and hypocrisy of the court--wouldn't you?
Click! Okay, remember how I said the place was like a city all by itself? This view is part of the kitchens. That's right, the kitchens. They were so huge that they got subdivided all over the place.
Click!After the king stopped living at Hampton Court Palace regularly, and such huge kitchens weren't needed anymore, the kitchens were actually converted into tiny flats for royal servents who had done their duty well and deserved a reward for putting up with royalty all those years. Even today, some people still live on Fish Court, pictured here.
So that's Hampton Court Palace, or some of it anyway. Katy and I only did half the tours available, and you weren't allowed to take pictures in a lot of the rooms. Sigh. It's a very neat place, and the gardens really are amazing if you don't want to pay the admission charge.
No book for today. Sorry. I already told you about The Secret Garden and the other stuff I'm reading now is all boring Victorian literature that I wouldn't recommend to anybody.
Friday, February 28, 2003
Okay, so I realized today that I've been in this country a WHOLE MONTH. My plane landed on the 28th of January, and today is, duh, the 28th of February. Wow. It feels a lot longer than a month, but a lot shorter too. Don't ask me to explain. I don't know.
One thing I've noticed is that the American accent sounds really ugly over here. It's all flat and twangy and nasally. Unless I'm around other icky-sounding Americans, I try to talk as little as possible, because I feel like an aural sore thumb. On the other hand, I don't want to try my hand, or tongue, at an English accent because I have the haunting feeling that I'd be beaten to death by scones and teapots. I also can't seem to compromise and use Englishisms ("Cheers", "Ta") in my icky American accent, because somehow that would be wrongest of all. I still have some trouble understanding the thicker English accents, too. I went to a play on Wednesday night and it was a good thing I knew the plot because I missed some of the long speeches, just trying to figure out what they were saying. I've also annoyed people on the phone by asking them over and over what the hey they're saying. You wouldn't think we speak two different languages . . . well, we do.
I'm still lovin' the public transport system, as much as Flint likes to laugh at me. (You know who you are, Flint.) I love that there is one. America doesn't seem to have the same concept of public transport. Either they get the public part or the transport part wrong.
I went again to the British Museum on Wednesday, and after that the Globe Theatre. Want pictures? Of course you do. And if you don't, all you have to do is not click. Concept!
Click! Little girl feeding pigeons outside the British Museum
Click! Another attempt to capture the Tennyson quote on the floor of the Great Court. Can you read it this time?
Click! A Greek statue of a maiden. She would have served as a support pillar for a temple. This time all the rooms were open. Wooohoo!
Click! Three Greek statues who lost their heads at some point or another.
Click! It's the Globe Theatre! No, of course it's not the real Globe Theatre. That burned down when they fired a cannon during a performance. They rebuilt, of course, but then good ol' Ollie Cromwell tore it down when he declared that Plays Were Bad in 1642. This is the reconstruction, built in the late 90's. It's the only building in London with a thatched roof since the Great Fire. Everything is as accurate as research can discover and current laws will allow.
Click! Another view of the Globe. Not that big, is it? It used to fit 3000 people. Yoiks! It only holds 1500 now, but 500 fit in the groundling area. Tickets for the groundling area, by the way, are only 5 quid. That's pretty darn good.
Anyway, that's my pictures for today. Not really planning on going anywhere this weekend, but you never know. My camera might finally give me the billions and billions I took in Oxford.
Book for today: The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgeson Burnett. I'm right now re-reading this for my Children's Lit class, but I must have read it 10 or 20 times already. I got it for a birthday present the year I turned nine, and I remember being absolutely delighted by Mary. She was the first child character who was bratty and nasty without being the Big Villain. In fact, she's the main character. Anyway, go read this book. Not only for Mary, who you'll love, but also for Colin, who matches Mary tantrum for tantrum and brat for brat, and for the Secret Garden, which is almost mystical in its power to bring these two self-absorbed children to life.
One thing I've noticed is that the American accent sounds really ugly over here. It's all flat and twangy and nasally. Unless I'm around other icky-sounding Americans, I try to talk as little as possible, because I feel like an aural sore thumb. On the other hand, I don't want to try my hand, or tongue, at an English accent because I have the haunting feeling that I'd be beaten to death by scones and teapots. I also can't seem to compromise and use Englishisms ("Cheers", "Ta") in my icky American accent, because somehow that would be wrongest of all. I still have some trouble understanding the thicker English accents, too. I went to a play on Wednesday night and it was a good thing I knew the plot because I missed some of the long speeches, just trying to figure out what they were saying. I've also annoyed people on the phone by asking them over and over what the hey they're saying. You wouldn't think we speak two different languages . . . well, we do.
I'm still lovin' the public transport system, as much as Flint likes to laugh at me. (You know who you are, Flint.) I love that there is one. America doesn't seem to have the same concept of public transport. Either they get the public part or the transport part wrong.
I went again to the British Museum on Wednesday, and after that the Globe Theatre. Want pictures? Of course you do. And if you don't, all you have to do is not click. Concept!
Click! Little girl feeding pigeons outside the British Museum
Click! Another attempt to capture the Tennyson quote on the floor of the Great Court. Can you read it this time?
Click! A Greek statue of a maiden. She would have served as a support pillar for a temple. This time all the rooms were open. Wooohoo!
Click! Three Greek statues who lost their heads at some point or another.
Click! It's the Globe Theatre! No, of course it's not the real Globe Theatre. That burned down when they fired a cannon during a performance. They rebuilt, of course, but then good ol' Ollie Cromwell tore it down when he declared that Plays Were Bad in 1642. This is the reconstruction, built in the late 90's. It's the only building in London with a thatched roof since the Great Fire. Everything is as accurate as research can discover and current laws will allow.
Click! Another view of the Globe. Not that big, is it? It used to fit 3000 people. Yoiks! It only holds 1500 now, but 500 fit in the groundling area. Tickets for the groundling area, by the way, are only 5 quid. That's pretty darn good.
Anyway, that's my pictures for today. Not really planning on going anywhere this weekend, but you never know. My camera might finally give me the billions and billions I took in Oxford.
Book for today: The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgeson Burnett. I'm right now re-reading this for my Children's Lit class, but I must have read it 10 or 20 times already. I got it for a birthday present the year I turned nine, and I remember being absolutely delighted by Mary. She was the first child character who was bratty and nasty without being the Big Villain. In fact, she's the main character. Anyway, go read this book. Not only for Mary, who you'll love, but also for Colin, who matches Mary tantrum for tantrum and brat for brat, and for the Secret Garden, which is almost mystical in its power to bring these two self-absorbed children to life.
Tuesday, February 25, 2003
Monday, February 24, 2003
Thursday, February 20, 2003
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay . . . I wrote this whole long post earlier about Yahoo and cream teas and Venetia . . . where is it? Wherrrrrrrrrrre??? Curses. The evil yahoo curse is spreading.
Anyway, here's the gist:
Go here to see my photo album. I don't know why it won't work to link directly, but oh well. I'm not even askiing Yahoo to display pix on this page, just to let you guys click a blue link to go from this page to a yahoo page. But noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo . . . Sigh. If even that photo album link doesn't work, shout out and I'll gnash my hair and tear my teeth. Wait a minute . . . strike that . . . reverse it. Good.
In other news, I have finally had a cream tea, which was highly recommended to me before I left the States. My friend was not lying . . . this is good stuff! For all y'all who do not know the wonders of cream tea (you poor saps), it consists of a pot of tea (natch) that is accompanied by scones and (reverent hush) clotted cream. Ooooooooooo. Clotted cream is wonderful stuff, especially when combined with strawberry preserves. Mmmmmmmmmmm. If you ever get the chance, try it. You won't be disappointed. Your diet, should you be on one, will be blown all to pieces, but who cares about diets?
Book for today: Venetia by Georgette Heyer. Venetia is a clever, sensible spinster that everyone thinks is going to marry boring Edward Yardley. But then the scandalous Lord Damerel moves in next door, and Venetia unexpectedly finds the best friend she's ever had . . . This is going up there with These Old Shades and Devil's Cub as one of my all-time favorite GH novels.
Anyway, here's the gist:
Go here to see my photo album. I don't know why it won't work to link directly, but oh well. I'm not even askiing Yahoo to display pix on this page, just to let you guys click a blue link to go from this page to a yahoo page. But noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo . . . Sigh. If even that photo album link doesn't work, shout out and I'll gnash my hair and tear my teeth. Wait a minute . . . strike that . . . reverse it. Good.
In other news, I have finally had a cream tea, which was highly recommended to me before I left the States. My friend was not lying . . . this is good stuff! For all y'all who do not know the wonders of cream tea (you poor saps), it consists of a pot of tea (natch) that is accompanied by scones and (reverent hush) clotted cream. Ooooooooooo. Clotted cream is wonderful stuff, especially when combined with strawberry preserves. Mmmmmmmmmmm. If you ever get the chance, try it. You won't be disappointed. Your diet, should you be on one, will be blown all to pieces, but who cares about diets?
Book for today: Venetia by Georgette Heyer. Venetia is a clever, sensible spinster that everyone thinks is going to marry boring Edward Yardley. But then the scandalous Lord Damerel moves in next door, and Venetia unexpectedly finds the best friend she's ever had . . . This is going up there with These Old Shades and Devil's Cub as one of my all-time favorite GH novels.
Sunday, February 09, 2003
They're working! They're working! I figured out the problem . . . when I wrote my entry offline last night, I used a program that uses curly quotes instead of regular ones. If you don't know what those are, don't ask me to explain. I barely know myself. Anyway, the curly quotes somehow fadoodled with the HTML and . . . anyway, the upshot is, go click those links now. All clear.
Saturday, February 08, 2003
Things I miss about America (in no particular order):
8x11 paper (really! I mean it! This A4 paper, with its four holes instead of three, is very disorienting!!)
Skippy supercrunch peanut butter
grape jelly
big refrigerators
Meijer
My family
My apartment
My roommates
American accents
central heating (they have radiators)
dryers (not that Britain in general doesn’t have them, but my landlady doesn’t, so I still miss ‘em)
Things I love about Britain (also in no particular order)
the public transportation system
Nutella
those little weird clusters of shops on random suburban corners, completely surrounded by houses
Kingston town centre, which is basically the above, blown up huge
super-specializing little stores (The Little Tiny Shop of Clothespins, for example)
their sensible approach to mobile/cellular phone plans
the gun ban
I went into London proper for the first time today. Believe me when I say, I did not know where to look first. Wow!! So . . . much . . . brain . . . overload . . . aieee!!
We arrived in Waterloo station by train, and left the station to find--wham!--the Thames. Okay, not really wham! but it was pretty close. Here is a picture of my friend Katy, with Big Ben and Parliament in the background. Katy was very kind about guiding me through London, since she’d been there before and I hadn’t. And here is a picture of some unknown building across the Thames which I just thought was purty.
We crossed the bridge over the Thames, a white suspension bridge, and found the church St. Martin in the Fields, which is supposed to be architecturally significant or something. All I know is, it was quite cool, and there was a little markety sort of thing in the yard. We met a Cockney gentleman who was selling antique tools and was quite chatty, telling us all about his experiences in WW2. He was at D-Day, just 20 years old at the time, and saw his best friend get shot next to him. His wife’s mother died in the bombings of London. It’s so sobering to realize that Londoners, and Brits in general, are used to being sort of the front line of European wars in the last century. We’ve been preserved from that until quite recently. We feel safe. Anyway, Johnny was a great, friendly old guy.
After our chat with him, we bought tickets for a concert in the church for that evening--Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons,” performed by the Primavera Chamber Orchestra. They were quite cheap seats, plus I got a pound discount because I flashed my student card. Yay! More on that concert later. At that point, Katy and I split up--she went into the National Portrait Gallery, while I went into the National Gallery. Both were free--woohoo! Who says London is expensive?
The National Gallery was pretty neat, especially an exhibit about underdrawings in Rennaissance art. Infra-red cameras have been able to take pictures of the sketches underneath the paint, showing us the creative process of the Rennaissance artists. Quite cool.
Katy and I met in Trafalger Square, where I took several rather whimsical pictures. Here is a picture of King George IV, with friend. Here are some pigeon feeders. Them pigeons will eat anything. Here we have a water-nymph statue in the fountain that I rather liked. And here is one of the lions at the base of Nelson’s Column. Looks very fearsome, doesn’t it?
We passed through Leicester Square, pronounced "Lester", just as Worcester is pronounced "Wooster." By this logic, Manchester should be "Manster," shouldn't it? No, it's Manchester. Hmmm.
Anyway, thence to Covent Garden to see the market. It was madly crowded, but there was plenty to see anyway. I gave into my addiction and bought a pair of earrings, quite reasonably priced. After that, it was dinner with some more friends (the Yumi Food House, by the Palace--Chinese food, tiny little place, cheap and good!) and then we walked back to St. Martin’s etc for the concert, which was beautiful. We couldn’t see the orchestra, but it’s music, so that doesn’t matter at all. I sat in the narrow, high-backed stalls at the top of the church and read the book I’d picked up that morning, and let all that music soak in like bath water. Aaaah. The church was pretty, too, with a stained-glass window behind the altar that must be absolutely stunning when the sun shines right through it. For an encore, they played “Danny Boy” . . . siiiiiiiiiigh.
Tube, train, then bus to get home. What a fun day!
Book for the day: The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett. I just think everyone should read Terry Pratchett, but this is a really fun book. You remember the story of the Pied Piper? Well, in this book, the Pied Piper and the rats are in cahoots . . . and then there's that cat . . . Terry Pratchett does satirical fantasy that asks the difficult questions and doesn't give you easy answers, if he gives 'em at all. If you don't like to think, read him for the laughs.
8x11 paper (really! I mean it! This A4 paper, with its four holes instead of three, is very disorienting!!)
Skippy supercrunch peanut butter
grape jelly
big refrigerators
Meijer
My family
My apartment
My roommates
American accents
central heating (they have radiators)
dryers (not that Britain in general doesn’t have them, but my landlady doesn’t, so I still miss ‘em)
Things I love about Britain (also in no particular order)
the public transportation system
Nutella
those little weird clusters of shops on random suburban corners, completely surrounded by houses
Kingston town centre, which is basically the above, blown up huge
super-specializing little stores (The Little Tiny Shop of Clothespins, for example)
their sensible approach to mobile/cellular phone plans
the gun ban
I went into London proper for the first time today. Believe me when I say, I did not know where to look first. Wow!! So . . . much . . . brain . . . overload . . . aieee!!
We arrived in Waterloo station by train, and left the station to find--wham!--the Thames. Okay, not really wham! but it was pretty close. Here is a picture of my friend Katy, with Big Ben and Parliament in the background. Katy was very kind about guiding me through London, since she’d been there before and I hadn’t. And here is a picture of some unknown building across the Thames which I just thought was purty.
We crossed the bridge over the Thames, a white suspension bridge, and found the church St. Martin in the Fields, which is supposed to be architecturally significant or something. All I know is, it was quite cool, and there was a little markety sort of thing in the yard. We met a Cockney gentleman who was selling antique tools and was quite chatty, telling us all about his experiences in WW2. He was at D-Day, just 20 years old at the time, and saw his best friend get shot next to him. His wife’s mother died in the bombings of London. It’s so sobering to realize that Londoners, and Brits in general, are used to being sort of the front line of European wars in the last century. We’ve been preserved from that until quite recently. We feel safe. Anyway, Johnny was a great, friendly old guy.
After our chat with him, we bought tickets for a concert in the church for that evening--Vivaldi’s “The Four Seasons,” performed by the Primavera Chamber Orchestra. They were quite cheap seats, plus I got a pound discount because I flashed my student card. Yay! More on that concert later. At that point, Katy and I split up--she went into the National Portrait Gallery, while I went into the National Gallery. Both were free--woohoo! Who says London is expensive?
The National Gallery was pretty neat, especially an exhibit about underdrawings in Rennaissance art. Infra-red cameras have been able to take pictures of the sketches underneath the paint, showing us the creative process of the Rennaissance artists. Quite cool.
Katy and I met in Trafalger Square, where I took several rather whimsical pictures. Here is a picture of King George IV, with friend. Here are some pigeon feeders. Them pigeons will eat anything. Here we have a water-nymph statue in the fountain that I rather liked. And here is one of the lions at the base of Nelson’s Column. Looks very fearsome, doesn’t it?
We passed through Leicester Square, pronounced "Lester", just as Worcester is pronounced "Wooster." By this logic, Manchester should be "Manster," shouldn't it? No, it's Manchester. Hmmm.
Anyway, thence to Covent Garden to see the market. It was madly crowded, but there was plenty to see anyway. I gave into my addiction and bought a pair of earrings, quite reasonably priced. After that, it was dinner with some more friends (the Yumi Food House, by the Palace--Chinese food, tiny little place, cheap and good!) and then we walked back to St. Martin’s etc for the concert, which was beautiful. We couldn’t see the orchestra, but it’s music, so that doesn’t matter at all. I sat in the narrow, high-backed stalls at the top of the church and read the book I’d picked up that morning, and let all that music soak in like bath water. Aaaah. The church was pretty, too, with a stained-glass window behind the altar that must be absolutely stunning when the sun shines right through it. For an encore, they played “Danny Boy” . . . siiiiiiiiiigh.
Tube, train, then bus to get home. What a fun day!
Book for the day: The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett. I just think everyone should read Terry Pratchett, but this is a really fun book. You remember the story of the Pied Piper? Well, in this book, the Pied Piper and the rats are in cahoots . . . and then there's that cat . . . Terry Pratchett does satirical fantasy that asks the difficult questions and doesn't give you easy answers, if he gives 'em at all. If you don't like to think, read him for the laughs.
Monday, February 03, 2003
It's the strangest thing to be in another country when something momentous happens in the one you claim as your own. I heard about the shuttle Columbia disaster from my younger brother, via MSN Messenger (don't you love the Internet?) but before that, I hadn't heard a word about it. In defense of Britain's newsmedia, I've never been one for perusing the papers or turning on the TV to catch the news. The closest I get is watching the headlines go by when I open up my browser, and clicking on the ones that interest me. It's a habit I should probably get into, if I ever want to contribute more than "Huh?" to a discussion of current events.
Anyway, back on subject, I feel kind of bad but I don't feel as if my entire life has been changed. I don't know how it is in the States, but other than it being all over the headlines, I haven't been affected very much about it. I feel very cold and callous. Sigh.
Had my first class today--was not what I was expecting, after all their warnings about the way levels are set up and about how people have known each other since babyhood in these schools. My professor was actually another American (weird) and it was a class of, no joke, ten. We sat in a circle in the classroom and had a discussion about how little we knew of the Renaissance. That was at eleven, a perfect time for a class if you ask me. However, I have a 9 am class tomorrow. That should be fun.
I'm also giving in and getting a cell phone. Now, for those of you who know me and are falling off your chairs turning purple in the face, the phone system is different here. They charge for local calls too. My landlady has said I could use her phone for calls, but I feel bad putting ££££ on her phone bill. I'm also getting a pay-as-you-go package, because I really do make so few calls that it would be madness (madness, I tell you!) to buy monthly minutes and all that business. The phone I'm looking at is about £70, or something like $120. Expensive, but in the long run it'll probably be worth it.
Book for today: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. I'm having my semi-annual Austen binge right now. Other people go on eating binges, drinking binges, drug binges, TV binges . . . I go on reading binges. Anyway, of the six that Austen published, NA is the first one she wrote. (Earlier books were written, but were re-written later into Sense & Sensibility and Pride & Prejudice.) It's a send-up of all those Gothic romances that were being published at the time. You know the kind (she feared the dark cave, dripping with bat guano, but she went in anyway because she's a dumb heroine). Catherine Morland loves to imagine herself in Gothic situations, but she soon finds out that real life is completely different . . . although perhaps almost as horrifying. The really funny thing about this book is that in the 1960's, when Gothics were undergoing a revival, somebody published it as a serious Gothic. Guess they didn't read it, huh?
Anyway, back on subject, I feel kind of bad but I don't feel as if my entire life has been changed. I don't know how it is in the States, but other than it being all over the headlines, I haven't been affected very much about it. I feel very cold and callous. Sigh.
Had my first class today--was not what I was expecting, after all their warnings about the way levels are set up and about how people have known each other since babyhood in these schools. My professor was actually another American (weird) and it was a class of, no joke, ten. We sat in a circle in the classroom and had a discussion about how little we knew of the Renaissance. That was at eleven, a perfect time for a class if you ask me. However, I have a 9 am class tomorrow. That should be fun.
I'm also giving in and getting a cell phone. Now, for those of you who know me and are falling off your chairs turning purple in the face, the phone system is different here. They charge for local calls too. My landlady has said I could use her phone for calls, but I feel bad putting ££££ on her phone bill. I'm also getting a pay-as-you-go package, because I really do make so few calls that it would be madness (madness, I tell you!) to buy monthly minutes and all that business. The phone I'm looking at is about £70, or something like $120. Expensive, but in the long run it'll probably be worth it.
Book for today: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. I'm having my semi-annual Austen binge right now. Other people go on eating binges, drinking binges, drug binges, TV binges . . . I go on reading binges. Anyway, of the six that Austen published, NA is the first one she wrote. (Earlier books were written, but were re-written later into Sense & Sensibility and Pride & Prejudice.) It's a send-up of all those Gothic romances that were being published at the time. You know the kind (she feared the dark cave, dripping with bat guano, but she went in anyway because she's a dumb heroine). Catherine Morland loves to imagine herself in Gothic situations, but she soon finds out that real life is completely different . . . although perhaps almost as horrifying. The really funny thing about this book is that in the 1960's, when Gothics were undergoing a revival, somebody published it as a serious Gothic. Guess they didn't read it, huh?
Saturday, February 01, 2003
May I just say that of all the things Britain has contributed to the world, Nutella may just be the tops? That and minty lamb anything. Why don't we have minty lamb flavor in America? Because we are dorks, that is why. Yum.
I went grocery shopping last night. Initially I stopped in at Marks and Spencers, but the prices gave me a heart attack when I translated them into American dollars. Then I went into Sainsbury's, and the prices only gave me an aneurysm, so I shopped there. I noticed something interesting: in America, store brands are the cheaper (in both senses of the word) option, and cost-cutters buy those. Here, the store brands seem to be the luxury items. The advertising thrust is not, "Save money, buy store brand" but rather, "Store brand is better overall." Interesting. Not particularly scintillating, but it's worth mentioning.
I got lost last night trying to find a Catholic church. Turns out I took the correct bus, but in the totally wrong direction. Oooooops. Guess I'll try again today, in the other direction.
Book for today: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Yes, I know I'm an unspeakable lit dork, but this is really one of my favorite books of all time, and every time I read it, I remember why. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy carry out the wittiest, cleverest, most up-and-down mating dance since Beatrice and Benedick (which some say this was based on, but there's only so many ways you can do duelling lovers, after all). Anyway, if you don't feel like getting used to the early 19th century language and style, there's a five-hour A&E version that's worth watching for Colin Firth's pond scene alone. But read the book. The book is always better.
I went grocery shopping last night. Initially I stopped in at Marks and Spencers, but the prices gave me a heart attack when I translated them into American dollars. Then I went into Sainsbury's, and the prices only gave me an aneurysm, so I shopped there. I noticed something interesting: in America, store brands are the cheaper (in both senses of the word) option, and cost-cutters buy those. Here, the store brands seem to be the luxury items. The advertising thrust is not, "Save money, buy store brand" but rather, "Store brand is better overall." Interesting. Not particularly scintillating, but it's worth mentioning.
I got lost last night trying to find a Catholic church. Turns out I took the correct bus, but in the totally wrong direction. Oooooops. Guess I'll try again today, in the other direction.
Book for today: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Yes, I know I'm an unspeakable lit dork, but this is really one of my favorite books of all time, and every time I read it, I remember why. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy carry out the wittiest, cleverest, most up-and-down mating dance since Beatrice and Benedick (which some say this was based on, but there's only so many ways you can do duelling lovers, after all). Anyway, if you don't feel like getting used to the early 19th century language and style, there's a five-hour A&E version that's worth watching for Colin Firth's pond scene alone. But read the book. The book is always better.
Thursday, January 30, 2003
Hello, all you faithful readers! Yes, all five of you . . . My plane ride was accomplished with a decided lack of hijackers, and I got to London and more importantly, through customs, in one piece. WOOHOO! My landlady is quite nice, even if my room is about big enough for me and two very close friends to stand up in. You might be able to shoehorn one more person in there, but then it gets kinky. However, I don't care, because one, I am in LONDON!! and two, even better, my landlady has cable internet which I am allowed to use when the computer is free! Yahoo! I'd pay £75 a week just for that, and sleep in the cupboard under the stairs like Harry.
Speaking of that, I was quite bad yesterday and spent £23 on books--already! I may have to watch my spending. This could get extravagant. And heavy. I had to cart those books around all through the rest of orientation, which was no picnic I assure you.
Nothing particularly special on the agenda today, except to go back to Kingston town center (centre) and walk around, investigating all the neat little shops that they hurried us past yesterday, intent on getting us orientated by hook or by crook. I also have to buy groceries and other necessaries, since I only brought travel sizes with me.
I have pictures, but I don't have my own computer up and running yet (still have to get a plug adapter, and I'm going into withdrawal). Anyway, as soon as that happens, I'll get y'all a picture of my room. I lucked out doubly--they have all their books in there. Bwaha.
Book for today: Princess in Love by Meg Cabot. This is one of the ones I picked up yesterday. In Britain, the title is Third Time Lucky. I've read the first two, which are a real hoot, and this one was just as much fun. After finally getting a boyfriend, Mia realizes in about a nanosecond that it's not the right one. Most people would just dump him and move on, but Mia is . . . well . . . Mia, which means that her life is more complicated and angstified and a hell of a lot funnier than that of the entire cast of "Days of Our Lives".
Speaking of that, I was quite bad yesterday and spent £23 on books--already! I may have to watch my spending. This could get extravagant. And heavy. I had to cart those books around all through the rest of orientation, which was no picnic I assure you.
Nothing particularly special on the agenda today, except to go back to Kingston town center (centre) and walk around, investigating all the neat little shops that they hurried us past yesterday, intent on getting us orientated by hook or by crook. I also have to buy groceries and other necessaries, since I only brought travel sizes with me.
I have pictures, but I don't have my own computer up and running yet (still have to get a plug adapter, and I'm going into withdrawal). Anyway, as soon as that happens, I'll get y'all a picture of my room. I lucked out doubly--they have all their books in there. Bwaha.
Book for today: Princess in Love by Meg Cabot. This is one of the ones I picked up yesterday. In Britain, the title is Third Time Lucky. I've read the first two, which are a real hoot, and this one was just as much fun. After finally getting a boyfriend, Mia realizes in about a nanosecond that it's not the right one. Most people would just dump him and move on, but Mia is . . . well . . . Mia, which means that her life is more complicated and angstified and a hell of a lot funnier than that of the entire cast of "Days of Our Lives".
Saturday, January 25, 2003
Just a quick note to let y'all know that I'm not dead, just insanely busy. Would you believe that I have not packed one blessed thing in a suitcase? It's all piled on a card table in the family room or on the windowseat in my bedroom. And I leave in three days! I'd better do something 'bout that . . .
Maybe it's this cold snap, but it seems like all I want to do right now is shuffle around in pj's and slippers, forlornly blowing my nose. Alternatively, I want to curl up under mounds and mounds of covers and read good books. That's probably the reason why I don't have anything packed . . . :-p I'm clearing out my room so my parents can redo it while I'm overseas, and when I come back, I'll be home for about two weeks to a month before I move out for good. So I'm actually packing everything as if I'm moving out now. That's probably the reason for the vague depression that's nagging me. I never realized I had so much stuff, and most of it's flaming useless junk. I'm using my brother's room as a depository for all the things I'm getting rid of (don't worry, he's away at college) and the pile is bigger than the stuff I'll be taking with me when I move out. Sigh.
I'm trying hard to think of it as a character exercise (what do I really need in life? I mean really) but it's kind of tough.
Enough meloncholy.
Book for today: For My Lady's Heart by Laura Kinsale. This is a tough book to get into--the heroine is not always sympathetic. But when you do understand her, it's like a light coming on in your head: ding! Another interesting thing about it is that all the dialogue in English is rendered in fairly accurate Middle English. Not totally accurate--some of it had to be altered for the sake of clarity--but enough to make it pretty neat. And the Middle Ages mindset is also done very well, too. Try it out on a rainy Saturday.
Maybe it's this cold snap, but it seems like all I want to do right now is shuffle around in pj's and slippers, forlornly blowing my nose. Alternatively, I want to curl up under mounds and mounds of covers and read good books. That's probably the reason why I don't have anything packed . . . :-p I'm clearing out my room so my parents can redo it while I'm overseas, and when I come back, I'll be home for about two weeks to a month before I move out for good. So I'm actually packing everything as if I'm moving out now. That's probably the reason for the vague depression that's nagging me. I never realized I had so much stuff, and most of it's flaming useless junk. I'm using my brother's room as a depository for all the things I'm getting rid of (don't worry, he's away at college) and the pile is bigger than the stuff I'll be taking with me when I move out. Sigh.
I'm trying hard to think of it as a character exercise (what do I really need in life? I mean really) but it's kind of tough.
Enough meloncholy.
Book for today: For My Lady's Heart by Laura Kinsale. This is a tough book to get into--the heroine is not always sympathetic. But when you do understand her, it's like a light coming on in your head: ding! Another interesting thing about it is that all the dialogue in English is rendered in fairly accurate Middle English. Not totally accurate--some of it had to be altered for the sake of clarity--but enough to make it pretty neat. And the Middle Ages mindset is also done very well, too. Try it out on a rainy Saturday.
Sunday, January 05, 2003
*happy Snoopy dance* It did, it did!
Thanks for the use of the camera, Andi! That picture down there, btw, was NOT taken by me. I've never even been there . . . yet. But it's a delightful success in the experiment of posting pictures. Golf claps all around.
In other news, I have 22 days until my plane leaves, and things are starting to kick into gear. Have emailed landlady about accomodations, and also have mailed out the paper so they'll meet me at the airport. Phew! On the other hand, I still must buy BritRail pass! Also must convert money . . . and get together all the paperwork that I have to present to customs . . . and back up the entire contents of my computer just in case it gets zapped . . . and visit friends one last time . . . and I suppose I could eke out some time to pack clothing in all of that.
Eating may be possible. Probably not sleeping.
Book for today: Catherine, Called Birdy Karen Cushman. A Newbery Honor book from a few years ago, this is the diary of a fourteen-year-old British girl in 1290 and 1291. This is nobody's fantasy Middle Ages--Catherine writes about hangings, farting, and saint's days in the same entries. She's also absolutely determined not to be sold off to the highest bidder, and she makes sure that the highest bidders won't want her. She is a delight!
Thanks for the use of the camera, Andi! That picture down there, btw, was NOT taken by me. I've never even been there . . . yet. But it's a delightful success in the experiment of posting pictures. Golf claps all around.
In other news, I have 22 days until my plane leaves, and things are starting to kick into gear. Have emailed landlady about accomodations, and also have mailed out the paper so they'll meet me at the airport. Phew! On the other hand, I still must buy BritRail pass! Also must convert money . . . and get together all the paperwork that I have to present to customs . . . and back up the entire contents of my computer just in case it gets zapped . . . and visit friends one last time . . . and I suppose I could eke out some time to pack clothing in all of that.
Eating may be possible. Probably not sleeping.
Book for today: Catherine, Called Birdy Karen Cushman. A Newbery Honor book from a few years ago, this is the diary of a fourteen-year-old British girl in 1290 and 1291. This is nobody's fantasy Middle Ages--Catherine writes about hangings, farting, and saint's days in the same entries. She's also absolutely determined not to be sold off to the highest bidder, and she makes sure that the highest bidders won't want her. She is a delight!
Monday, December 23, 2002
I got all my information today about where I’d be staying in London. I’m excited now . . . it’s all starting to feel real! It’s a little more expensive than I thought it’d be, but it sounds pretty close to the university, so that’s probably why. I’m not looking forward to the initial jet-lag, however, I will tell you that!
I have oodles and scads of paperwork to send out over the big blue pond, including one so they’ll meet me at the airport. The thought of me lost in London is just . . . scary. London might never recover.
I also got my lists of classes . . . v. odd, they only meet for one or two hours a week, and yet they’re worth 4 credit hours. Wow. Funky. Maybe you have to do a lot of stuff outside of class . . . yeeps . . . wouldn’t want that, would we??
In other news, it’s as near to Christmas as makes no difference. Whichever holiday you celebrate (and there are a lot out there), have a happy one, and try not to kill your families! Keep telling yourself, “Wait ‘til next Christmas . . . hahahahaha . . .”
Book for today: Spindle’s End by Robin McKinley. This is a re-working of the Sleeping Beauty story, with the most unlikely princess you ever met in your life. Of course, just about anything by Robin McKinley is great stuff . . . she’s written at least two versions of Beauty and the Beast, and her other books are award-winners. Highly recommended.
I have oodles and scads of paperwork to send out over the big blue pond, including one so they’ll meet me at the airport. The thought of me lost in London is just . . . scary. London might never recover.
I also got my lists of classes . . . v. odd, they only meet for one or two hours a week, and yet they’re worth 4 credit hours. Wow. Funky. Maybe you have to do a lot of stuff outside of class . . . yeeps . . . wouldn’t want that, would we??
In other news, it’s as near to Christmas as makes no difference. Whichever holiday you celebrate (and there are a lot out there), have a happy one, and try not to kill your families! Keep telling yourself, “Wait ‘til next Christmas . . . hahahahaha . . .”
Book for today: Spindle’s End by Robin McKinley. This is a re-working of the Sleeping Beauty story, with the most unlikely princess you ever met in your life. Of course, just about anything by Robin McKinley is great stuff . . . she’s written at least two versions of Beauty and the Beast, and her other books are award-winners. Highly recommended.
Monday, December 16, 2002
Sunday, December 15, 2002
Well, I’m all done with my last classes at my American university. Exams are all written, for better or for worse (I have the sneaking suspicion that, given my general attitude of “oh, whatever” for the last couple of weeks of the term, it’ll be “for worse”) and grades will be coming in a couple of weeks. Whimper.
I’ve also packed myself up and moved back home on Saturday. Sigh. I’m really going to miss my apartment--in addition to great roommates (and you know who you are), independence, and constant internet access, it had the added advantage of distance . . . from my mother. *snicker* Kidding, mostly.
So anyway . . . now I have about six weeks to hang around at home until I leave for London at the end of January. In that time, I need to get my greedy little hands on some money, not only for Christmas shopping, but also for living on in London, which is apparently rather expensive . . . Anyone know of a job that’ll earn me mucho moola and allow me to sit around and read or write all the livelong day?
No?
I didn’t think so.
Book for today: The Thief by Meghan Whalen Turner. This is a Newbery Honor book from about five years ago, meaning don’t look for it in adult fantasy. Maybe young adult. Anyway, it’s set in a quasi-ancient-Greece fantasy world, which was why I first picked it up. But don’t read it for that--read it for the main character, Gen the thief, who is the kind of kid that everyone wants to slap upside the head, but yet manages to make you root for him. What a trick! And it’s not the only one he pulls off . . . watch out for the ending. Bwaha.
I’ve also packed myself up and moved back home on Saturday. Sigh. I’m really going to miss my apartment--in addition to great roommates (and you know who you are), independence, and constant internet access, it had the added advantage of distance . . . from my mother. *snicker* Kidding, mostly.
So anyway . . . now I have about six weeks to hang around at home until I leave for London at the end of January. In that time, I need to get my greedy little hands on some money, not only for Christmas shopping, but also for living on in London, which is apparently rather expensive . . . Anyone know of a job that’ll earn me mucho moola and allow me to sit around and read or write all the livelong day?
No?
I didn’t think so.
Book for today: The Thief by Meghan Whalen Turner. This is a Newbery Honor book from about five years ago, meaning don’t look for it in adult fantasy. Maybe young adult. Anyway, it’s set in a quasi-ancient-Greece fantasy world, which was why I first picked it up. But don’t read it for that--read it for the main character, Gen the thief, who is the kind of kid that everyone wants to slap upside the head, but yet manages to make you root for him. What a trick! And it’s not the only one he pulls off . . . watch out for the ending. Bwaha.
Sunday, December 08, 2002
It's final exam time, kiddies. Have you had your nervous breakdown yet?
No, really, finals aren't that bad for me. The week before finals, now . . . presentation paper paper study review . . . argh! But that's over, and now there's only three finals to be got through for me. Oh, and also turn in my independent study, but that's practically done anyway. Feel free to throw all the tomatoes you want. I have an umbrella.
It's been a strange week for me. In my head, I know I'm going to be leaving this university forever in just a few days, and also leaving people who have become very dear to me. I'll keep in touch, of course, but it won't be the same. Yesterday, I participated in the graduation ceremony for Fall semester, even though I won't technically graduate until April. It was a nice, short little ceremony. I didn't see my family until the very end of it, when I was walking out. My parents and brothers attended, as well as my grandmother, my grandfather on the other side, and his fiancee, plus my aunt and her family, not to mention my roommates. Wow! What a cheering section I had! It was a nice feeling. I still didn't feel like I graduated, especially since I got just a diploma case and not the diploma itself.
I went to church on-campus today, and I nearly lost it during Mass. I've been attending this Mass for 3 and a half years, minus summer breaks, and it hit me like a brick to the head that I'd never worship there again. Isn't it strange what kinds of things set you off?
I tell you, this growing-up stuff sucks like a fleet of Hoovers.
In other news, I might not get the classes thing ironed out by the time I get on the plane--which really really worries me, because I need them done if I want to graduate on time. The international office is a mess right now, but the woman who's handling my stuff has told me she will try to get to it as soon as possible. I believe her, but I'm still itchy and worried. Grumble.
Good luck on finals, everyone who has them! And everyone else, happy holidays!
Books for today: Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale. This is a truly exceptional romance novel, I'm telling you. The hero has a stroke close to the beginning of it, and since this takes place in the early nineteenth century, he is thought to be mad and put into an insane asylum. The heroine is the only one who believes that there's still a human being somewhere in there. Laura's descriptions of the insane asylum are truly horrifying, all the more so since the characters consider it an advanced place of treatment. SHUDDER! Also, Laura writes the scenes that are from the hero's POV as if you are in his head, with things not connecting the way a stroke victim would think and feel. Read it for a GREAT love story. Insert mooshy sighs here.
No, really, finals aren't that bad for me. The week before finals, now . . . presentation paper paper study review . . . argh! But that's over, and now there's only three finals to be got through for me. Oh, and also turn in my independent study, but that's practically done anyway. Feel free to throw all the tomatoes you want. I have an umbrella.
It's been a strange week for me. In my head, I know I'm going to be leaving this university forever in just a few days, and also leaving people who have become very dear to me. I'll keep in touch, of course, but it won't be the same. Yesterday, I participated in the graduation ceremony for Fall semester, even though I won't technically graduate until April. It was a nice, short little ceremony. I didn't see my family until the very end of it, when I was walking out. My parents and brothers attended, as well as my grandmother, my grandfather on the other side, and his fiancee, plus my aunt and her family, not to mention my roommates. Wow! What a cheering section I had! It was a nice feeling. I still didn't feel like I graduated, especially since I got just a diploma case and not the diploma itself.
I went to church on-campus today, and I nearly lost it during Mass. I've been attending this Mass for 3 and a half years, minus summer breaks, and it hit me like a brick to the head that I'd never worship there again. Isn't it strange what kinds of things set you off?
I tell you, this growing-up stuff sucks like a fleet of Hoovers.
In other news, I might not get the classes thing ironed out by the time I get on the plane--which really really worries me, because I need them done if I want to graduate on time. The international office is a mess right now, but the woman who's handling my stuff has told me she will try to get to it as soon as possible. I believe her, but I'm still itchy and worried. Grumble.
Good luck on finals, everyone who has them! And everyone else, happy holidays!
Books for today: Flowers from the Storm by Laura Kinsale. This is a truly exceptional romance novel, I'm telling you. The hero has a stroke close to the beginning of it, and since this takes place in the early nineteenth century, he is thought to be mad and put into an insane asylum. The heroine is the only one who believes that there's still a human being somewhere in there. Laura's descriptions of the insane asylum are truly horrifying, all the more so since the characters consider it an advanced place of treatment. SHUDDER! Also, Laura writes the scenes that are from the hero's POV as if you are in his head, with things not connecting the way a stroke victim would think and feel. Read it for a GREAT love story. Insert mooshy sighs here.
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Got my acceptance packet proper from the UK university the other day. Woohooo! It’s official--I’m goin’ to London, baybee! I leave at the end of January and classes start the first week of February. Can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t waaaaaaaaaaaaaait!!
In other news, my semester is heating up. I have papers due each week from now until the end of the semester. That’s right, paperS. Multiple. Tell me again why I opted for an English major?? Oy. There might not be another update for quite awhile, folks--it was all I could do to wrest out time to do this one.
Slowly going insane . . .
Book for today: The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood. What do you mean you haven’t read this? It’s truly disturbing and thought-provoking, whether or not you’re a feminist. Go read it.
In other news, my semester is heating up. I have papers due each week from now until the end of the semester. That’s right, paperS. Multiple. Tell me again why I opted for an English major?? Oy. There might not be another update for quite awhile, folks--it was all I could do to wrest out time to do this one.
Slowly going insane . . .
Book for today: The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood. What do you mean you haven’t read this? It’s truly disturbing and thought-provoking, whether or not you’re a feminist. Go read it.
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