She's Expecting the World

What I'm listening to now:

Of course it's Coldplay, what'd you expect?  I am so excited for Mylo Xyloto I can't even tell you.  Not ashamed in the least to admit that I shed a tear during their performance this year at Lolla...Gwenyth, you picked yourself a winner with Chris.  Coldplay is the one band that I have listened to since the 8th grade and never got tired of any of their stuff, no matter how many rounds of repeat I put the songs on.  They've fueled many a road trip, soundtracked many a late night essay cram, and calmed many a restless nerve.  I will forever be a Coldplay enthusiast.

Anyways, on to other things.  Hot chocolate ROCKS in England.  Homemade marshmellows?  Um YES PLEASE.  I think I've consumed more hot chocolate in the past week than Santa does on Christmas Eve.  I can't even engage in conversation when I'm drinking it; it's literally like the world stops moving when I take a sip and the Hallelujah chorus kicks in.  It's officially replaced my Starbucks addiction, as the folks at Marks and Spencer Department store now know me by name and prepare my drink while I wait in line.

Fall weather has yet to arrive in Oxford.  Every morning I leave for class, clothing layered, red raincoat on, and every day turns out to be nearly 70 and sunny.  Today I had to run to town after class to obtain yet another one of the thousand obscure books my history teacher has assigned me thus far (sidenote and reason #76 why I don't like him: he has worn a black fannypack to class every single day so far...I mean, I'd at least have a little more respect for him if it was jazzed up a tad, hell, I'd take "Disneyland" scrawled across the front, ANYTHING!  but why BLACK?!  so boring)...where was I...oh yes, my trek to town.  I began sweating on the bus under my 3 layers of clothing but was too tangled in my backpack strings to strip down.  I literally was dripping by the time I made it to Blackwell's...then I found out I had to haul my cookies all the way up to the 4th floor (they call it 3rd floor here EVEN though there are 4 flights of stairs involved, go figure), crawl around on the ground to find this gem:

My copy doesn't look this old and cool...but you get the picture.  That's what I'm supposed to be reading right now...but Lady Jane definitely needed some love first.

I had a lovely end to this Monday though...my girlfriends and I went to the grand opening of Cafe Cairo, a small little Lebanese restaurant located on North Parade, and had a magnificent feast for only 3 GBP a piece!  We indulged in hummus and pita, dolmades, tabouleh, spiced potatoes, and falafels!  Always can dig ethnic eats!

Following dinner, we ventured to the outskirts of town to see how the Brits do bowling.  Not ONLY was it a bowling alley, though...oh no...it was also part arcade and pool hall.  Since the lanes were full, I spent the first 15 minutes schooling Heather in some Dance Dance Revolution, but after we got good and sweaty, we decided it might be more ladylike to observe the others play pool.  Perhaps it was my competitive nature that got to me, perhaps it was the ants in my pants after the Dance Dance Revolution adrenaline rush, but I absolutely couldn't resist joining in:

clearly on fire

just look at that concentration

While it may look like I'm an old pro, I literally cannot think of a game that I'm worse at besides pool.  My grandpa had a pool table in the basement of their old home, and while I have memories of being taught to play and him teaching me how to hold the pool stick and aim, I had more fun arranging the balls in organized rainbow colors.  Needless to say, the lessons didn't stick.  My "guest shot" tonight resulted in a complete refiguration of all the balls, but I guess I'm just happy I hit something.  Usually I sink the cue ball or send one of them spinning like a whirling dirvish.  It was a nice change.

Upcoming posts to look forward to: Oktoberfest, Barcelona, Switzerland, Greece, Istanbul, Vienna...packed October ahead, cannot WAIT!

Blimey

This is about to be one of the longest posts in the history of blogging.  Neglect is no fun, I know; I owe you one helluva update from Oxford.  If you follow my instructions, you may be able to relive a few of my experiences so far in your

very own home!  Well...almost...

1) Play this.  And dance like nobody's business.  This is one of my favorite new jams frequently played at Oxford's most popular night club called The Bridge.  The group hails from England in fact, and are considered the European Backstreet Boys/N*Sync equivalent of our time.  So that makes them a guilty pleasure?  I'm alright with that.

2) Read this.  Although my class load is demanding and my history professor thinks that 7 books is a reasonable amount of material per week, it has given me many opportunities to peruse Oxford's most famous bookstore, Blackwell's.  I walked around in complete awe of my surroundings; I honestly don't think there is a book they don't have.  My favorite section was their secondhand area; my eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as I smelled the pages of time and felt the raised print on books dating back to the 1700s!  I couldn't resist picking up an old copy of Laclos's Dangerous Liasons, but also found Kerouac's lesser known gem Dharma Bums.  Classically rebellious, Kerouac tells the story of a California Buddhist's quest to find his Enlightenment.  Check it.

3) Drink this.  While I've enjoyed sampling many of the beers and lagers my first week and a half in Oxford, sometimes a girls just gotta return to femininity and have a frilly cocktail.  My lovely friend Heather and I simply couldn't resist ordering a "glitter bomb" when we saw it on the menu at a pub called The Grapes.  It's contents?  Red Bull and Goldschlager; pucker up, it's strong and sweet.  Hey Ke$ha, this one was clearly made for you... 

4) Wear this.  Obviously, I couldn't have survived England without a raincoat.  I searched high and low for a fun little number, and not something totally drab and frumpy; basically, I wanted a raincoat that didn't look like a raincoat.  The gods of fashion answered my prayers and introduced me to the most perfect raincoat I've ever seen.  Not only does the red make me smile on a rainy morning, but it's lined with a patterned flannel with butterflies on it for warmth.  Best part?  I've earned the nickname of "Little Red" :)

Peace. Love. Rock n roll y'all. 

To Oxford I Go

This week has been one of the most emotionally taxing weeks of my life.  Full of goodbyes, full of "last time I'll evers", full of anticipation, full of dreams of what's about to start.

I hestitated to open my eyes this morning; I wanted to savor my last morning in the room that I've called my own for 10 years.  I relished the smell of my pillow, burrowed down under my pink embroidered quilt, admired the bird cage familiarly dangling over my head.

Then, I knew I was about to cry.  It's always a dead giveaway when my eyebrows start to sweat.  After that, my mouth twitches from side to side in attempt to prevent tears from falling down my cheeks.  But no twitching this time; I just let them fall and plunk on my pillow.  It was the first of many tearful moments of the day, ones I allowed in defeat in respect to the wonderful 15 years I spent at 635 Ridge.

I don't know if the goodbyes became more difficult this week because I saved the hardest ones for last, or if they all accumulated on top of each other since Monday.  I was doing so well with establishing elongated "see you laters", but these past few days I just couldn't keep it together.  Sitting at my grandparent's kitchen table, hunched over a map of England with my grandpa as he explained where he was stationed during the war, tears suddenly began falling all over Manchester and even a few in the English Channel.  I immediately covered my face in embarrassment, apologizing profusely for the sudden upset, as he gently patted my hand and offered the best comfort he could "Lovey, don't you worry.  Although we won't be down the street anymore, we'll still be right here." It was the first time he's called me "lovey" since I was much younger.

It's all still so tender.  My eyes well when I just think of the last time I pounded down the stairs of my house, the last glance at the grand piano where I spent afternoons in the middle of so many summers practicing my favorite Christmas carols, the last tickle between my toes of the shag rug in our family room where we had millions of pizza nights, the last warmth of the sun coming in through the plantation shutters in my room around 3 or 4 in the afternoon.  I will make every effort to keep these images and memories as vivid as they are right now.

And now, here I am.  6:09 PM in Terminal 3 at O'Hare.  In just a little over an hour, my life's greatest adventure will commence.  I felt longing and pain in my heart for the familiar I've left behind when I began to write this post, but I put in my earbuds to take my mind off of things.  This song came on my shuffle, and not only has it lifted my heart, but it's sparked a sense of adventure in the pit of my stomach and I feel ready.  I am ready for what is to come.  I hope you enjoy the song, and it lifts you up too.