Is your bed made? Is your sweater on?

I have had a pretty wonderful past couple of days. They have been laid back but festive, settled mostly but a bit frantic as well. I've written a story that I am proud of, first of all. That always puts me in a good mood. It needs a better ending, but overall I think it is a good one. Wanna read it? Let me know.

Secondarily, I have been going out again. I realize my last post was a bit doom and gloom. I am fully aware that I will keep in touch with everyone via e-mail, facebook, and in some cases, letters. I'm excited about that as well. It's just... I don't know. I know ties aren't severed, the rope is just getting a bit longer. Which is fine. I just know I'm going to miss here, just like I miss there. My goodness though, I'm back in less than two weeks! My heart pitter patters at the thought! Familiarity! Family! Friends! Festivity!

One of the nights out I've had recently was an indie dance night. I flailed and shook and all of the things that are (sort of) accepted as dance these days... I even got up to sing with one group called "the Little Ones." I learned a new dance as well. It's called "The New Jumper." I will show it to interested parties... the dance should be an international sensation, sweeping the world by 2009. Jack and Joe provided some music, and I must say, throwing my hands up and shouting to "Shout" along with Kaitlyn, Rachael, Sam, and Grace is one of my favorite memories. I have lots from Norwich.


The attire on the invitation said "Christmas Jumpers." Do you like mine? It's from Gap!

Last night, Hannah and I took a walk down to one of my new favorite places - the Fat Cat. Over 80 different choices of beer, all of them described in loving detail. I don't really know what "full-bodied" means for a beer. I also don't know what a "nice, hop-filled finish" means, exactly. I just know that Hannah had one that tasted of chocoalte, and I had one that tasted of a fruit bowl at first, ending in a nice, beer-y flavor.

Also, I had an absolutely miserable snack, called Pork Scratchings. Basically, it's pork grisle (grisel? griscle? grizel?) that has been fried up in salt and oil, and then put into a sealed bag and kept behind a bar for any number of years. There is no expiration date on the bag. That is suspect. I ate an entire bag. During this snacking, my sense of self worth took a nose dive. I was lucky to have a full-bodied, hop-filled finishing beer with hints of fruit and pine, really. Quite refreshing.

And somewhere in there was a cider with flatmates Harry, Sam and Alex. They wasted their pocket change on this horribly addicting trivia machine that will ask you which continent the United States are on at first, and then ends by asking you obscure bits of Malaysian political history. Sometimes, it lets you win a couple pounds, sending you into a frenzy of hope. But alas, the hope is for naught. Your sense of self-worth takes a nose dive. You walk home and the only thing to lift your spirits is a box of Mark and Spencer's chocolate cereal. I want to bring a box of this home.

And finally, it's glove weather in Norwich. Biting, bitter cold. I rode my bike to school in what I believe was sleet. But I only have to manage it for a week, so I'm grinning through the whole thing. Oh, Winter. I have never experienced you to this degree before.

I hope it snows.

under new management.

Would you read a story about a energetic traveler and a Lewis Carrol character cavorting through Cambridge, punting on canals and seeking out first editions, fiendish for Parsnip soup? The same characters would then catch a girl group time traveled from the sixties, and the energetic traveler's heart would grow four sizes as they hugged him. The next day would then be All Hallow's Eve, and the energetic traveler would transform into a silver and blue tinseled moon monster, ready to go scare-mongering with a red tinseled ghoul. They would scare their way through the evening, until the moon monster, transmogrified, would leave with four mismatched friends to visit the sin drenched city of Amsterdam. Transfixed with crooked buildings, misty bike rides, chocolate covered waffles, the tragedy of Anne Frank, the beauty of Van Gogh, and a pink tinged red light district, he would reconsider how he feels about life and his place in the universe. Oh, and the zealousness for parsnip soup would be replaced with pumpkin flavor. The energetic traveler, now weary, would have a leisurely boat ride back, sleeping through synchronized girl group dreams, ready for a day of rest before another rocketspeed adventure to London, and Paris.

Would you read that story?

I'm trying to live it, if at all possible.

Bread has been proven to be addictive.

So far, my favorite thing that I did today was bake apple/cheddar cheese scones and finish a crossword with Abbey, Sam and Alex while drinking tea. Joseph came in from giving tours and sighed and sat down. We poured him a cup of tea and he dipped his face in steam, saying, "I'm tired of the sound of my own voice." He got the last answer. It was "intent".

I also got myself a ukelele because I missed playing a musical instrument. A ukelele, a case, a pitch pipe and a chord book was about 15 quid.

(I'm trying to use the word quid more. I remember reading Indian in the Cupboard and asking Mom what the word quid meant, and now everyone around me says it. I'm living in a book!)

Last night started at the Ballroom Dance society, where a vivacious woman taught 15 guys and 45 girls how to foxtrot effectively. Natalie, who is on the governing board, told me to come to the intermediate class on Wednesday. That's a compliment! Patrick and I then managed to get to a stand-up show for Mark Watson, which was excellent, and then I ran into folks from creative writing, the eap program, and the ballroom dance society in the university pub, drinking "Snake Bites" (1/2 cider, 1/2 beer, blackcurrant syrup) and joking. A guy named Jabis did graphology on me. Apparently I have loving parents because of the way I write my "y"s.

Thursday was Jess' birthday.




(Jess has her hands over her mouth on the right side.) We classed it up at the British institution "Pizza Hut" and then found our way into an empty club with a british elvis impersonator upstairs and a literally empty dance floor downstairs. Woo, 19!

That Goldilocks script I had to write? I did my scene in a German toy company called "Vunderland" where Alice, from marketing, is telling "Goal D. Locks" to go and talk to the investors. Sometimes I like to pretend I am clever.

A pub on campus is a very strange thing to me. It's pretty much always full, and students are drinking beer and reading psychology textbooks. I'm trying to add more british-isms into my vernacular, like "I can't be bothered," as in, "Will you turn the music down in the other room? I can't be bothered." (Make sure you are imagining that in your british accent.) Every day I endeavor to meet new people, or do something different than normal... today, that was making scones. Tomorrow, it is the rowing society.

On Wednesday I went into the castle museum. It is a museum with a taxidermy (like a polar bear!), a teapot collection, a castle keep display, and modern art. Read: that is a weird museum. I went with a friend from ISS who did not know how to hold a conversation, which made the whole experience stilted and strange. I would ask a question and she would answer and then ask, very quickly "and you?" even if it made no sense to be asked that, or if I had been asked already.

Sample:
me: "It's actually been really great to live in the city center. I'm close to everything. How is it on campus?"
her: "It's fine. It's much different than my old house. And you?"
me: "Yes, my room is different than my U.S. home, but I expected it to be."
We look at the last of the modern art exhibit.
me: "Lots of bright colors, don't you think?"
her: "Yeah, and you?"

Difficult. But look at that! I have another thing to turn in for my script writing class.

I am going to try to start a smaller creative writing group than the creative writing society I am already in. I want to have a smaller group of people read things. Erin? Ryan? Chris? Daniel? Want to come to England?

Cash up front, and direct.

Whoops!

I completely forgot about the most important moments of yesterday... I wandered (purposefully) into the Creative Writing Society's first meeting. We did four or five excellent group prompts where we wrote about an opera-loving skateboarder, a cocaine deal made through blackmail, cowboys and space... I am going to enjoy that group.

Notable quotes:
-"I went to Essex, and thus developed a penchant for short skirts."
-"Sort of midgey."
"Midgey?"
"Tiny."
"Ah. Midgey means tiny."
"Are you going to write that into your blog as well?"

When the governing board introduced themselves, they all said, "if you have any questions, you can find me in the pub downstairs."