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Take Two of Operation “Get caught up on my blog” has begun, and yes, I agree. It’s rather frustrating that a computer defeated me the first time around. It did, though.

“I want to write, want to expound, but time I’ve found, it escapes me.”- Jackson Pearce (in an awesome video called Writer’s Blok- Google it.)

Anyway, so let’s recap. The day I went to London was a very, very long day but it ended well. We broke up into majors after arriving in the city and from there we broke into further groups using the world renowned Buddy System in which girl who does not fit into any particular clique (me)follows girls who have clique-ified around the British History Museum for two hours as they look at clay pots. :/

It wasn’t all bad, though; the highlight was paying ten quid to go to a Renaissance Sketching art expo where I got to see sketches from Michaelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Giotto, Fra Filippo Lippi, Filippo Lippi, and (my personal favorite) Giotto. Seeing a breath-taking sketch of a woman eventually used for the Birth of Venus painting was simply incredible and beautiful–mystifying– in every sense of the word. It was also very cool to see how the artists revised certain aspects of the paintings that are now famous and the alternatives in posistioning and perspective that were entertained. [Mom- I think it will still be in expo when you come to London, so look out for it. ^_^]

Moving on– after that, we went to a pub called the Old Crown on New Oxford Street (yes, yes, how funny). Actors and Actresses performed dramatic readings of short stories– all friends of my teacher-no-longer-because-we’re-switching-tomorow, Katy– and that was entertaining too. In the end I didn’t get to see my favorite London Greatest Hits, like Westminster and St. Paul’s but I had just been there over Spring Break so I didn’t feel like I missed out. ^_^ Going to London with KCD chicadees (including the lovely Alf <3) was amazing. Anyway.

On the way back, I tried to fall asleep against the window [fun fact- British buses and coaches require seatbelts for all passengers- kudos Britain]. An issue- a guy I never met was calling my name and looking for me. When he found me he gave me a notebook that was theoretically mine but actually laced with the most girly handwriting on the face of the planet- definitely not my notebook. I gave it back, and he left.

Ten minutes later Sofia (Writer Girl’s friend) starts calling, “LAURA! LAURA! No, she’s here, she’s just shy! LAURA! I wrote a fan fic for you!”

…. What?

“What?” I asked.

Apparently Sofia “fell in love” with a character in my short story named Oliver for reasons unbenowgst to me. She wrote  a fan fic where he leaves his girlfriend Cecilia and ends up with her in the end. Marvelous. It was all in good fun, although I must say I felt extreemly strange. Words cannot convey the feeling when someone writes a fan fiction about your work. [What wasn't so nice was when a girl in my class said, "Why do you like him? He wasn't exactly a well-developed character, was he?" To which I said simply, "Thanks." And she was abashed. Yeah. Great story, that.]

Moving on, when we finally got back to Oxford I scurried to G&D’s (the ice cream cafe) and fortuitiously ran into Cam, which was awesome. I grabbed a cup of ice cream, he grabbed a cookie, and we walked around a bit talking until we ran into Jacobus, Sarah’s lovely teacher. That lead to a futher fascinating discussion about the financial crisis, life in Oxford in general, and some other subjects as well. An hour must have gone by in all before I walked back to Oriel.

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Next day- yesterday. [See! I'm catching up! And this will be brief.]

In my major, we continued workshoping and nothing particularly eventful took place.

In my minor, we watched Gattaca.

After minor was a cooking lesson! which was fabulous. We ate the most amazing food and only fifteen or so students were allowed in, so there was much food eating. I have the recipies- they’re incredible- and I’ll give them to anyone who wants them when I get back.

A walk back to Oriel yielded another old acquaintence- James Dray, who teaches Speech & Debate. He gave me serious, practical advice about applying to Oxford and some funny fun facts about application (which I might not need now, come to think about it, and I’m coming to terms with that. Maybe I should apply anyway or else risk spending my undergrad years wondering if I could have gotten in if I had tried). He’s just the same, James I mean, complete with cell phone, umbrella, and witty/scathing humor.

He told me something new about the Bridge of Sighs in Oxford as we walked to see Antony and Cleopatra. Apparently an English architect went to Italy and saw the real Bridge of Sighs and thought “Lovely! I want that!” and copied it for an Oxford college. The reason it’s called the Bridge of Sighs in Italy (and now Oxford) is because it was a bridge that condemned men walked across, spanning the prison to the execution site.

I asked James if the archiect knew this before copying the design, to which he replied in his British way that “The English have never been particularly bothered to learn about other cultures.” So true. I mean, if the other culture doesn’t have tea time, that is.

The walk to Antony and Cleopatra at Trinity College was by far the best aspect of the whole experience as it started to rain in the middle of the second act. I could not put up my umbrella beause I was in the second row, so I opened it in front of me and sort of leaned behind it in my chair with the result that I was thoroughly ready for Cleopatra to just drink the stupid poison and be done with it. ^_^ Good acting, but the rendition rendered Ceaser, Pompe, and Antony as college frat boy equivalents. Always fun.

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Congrats. You have almost finished the blog, and I have almost caught up! Today, then.

Major was bitter-sweet because, starting tomorrow, I am officially in the poetry unit and I haven’t the foggiest how to write poetry of any description. No matter how difficult prose has been, I am now entering the realm of the complete unknown. Glorious.

I had mentioned Sparkles to my teacher when she was asking me about what other works I had written thus far– I was asking if I could drop off short stories and other work even though I’m now in poetry for feeback. She said yes but also asked if I would like to read any of it, and because I wanted to prove I meant it I said I would read Sparkles.

Most of them loved it, absolutely loved it. I did get one “You’re not normal, are you?” but I think it was in gest. I also got an annoyed, lovely “So, have you gotten everything you ever wanted in life?” which I didn’t dignify with a response.

But on the whole they loved it and laughed the entire time. My teacher told me to find an illustrator and actually publish it, *dies*, which MADE MY LIFE but not Writer Girl’s.

After major was minor in which we debated genetic screening and to the extent it should be used– I personally would like to vote a girl off the island who said she thought (and this was a TOTALLY random remark) that parents should be able to control the fertility/sterility of their children.

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How is that ethical exactly?

I also wrote a Gattaca review which was wonderfully well written because I had written it before this year in Advanced Biology. Kudos Mr. Johnson. ^_^

The last pleasurable bit of the afternoon was a speech by Tim Carrol who runs a Shakespeare Company called The Factory. He was, by far, the most entertaining speaker I have yet seen. He was hysterical and used to go to Queen’s College, Oxford in which he improvised in a Shakespeare play. After that, his acting friends staged an intervention to tell him he was rubbish and he started directing.

And he does novel things with directing. His company never performs in theatres but public spaces, they never wear costumes, they determine who plays what role by having audience members play rock-paper-scissors, they improvise staging, they play music that audience members bring at random times on CD’s…

I wish I could see them live.

Anyway, now the depressing part. I went to karoke night and arrived in time to see the Journalism teacher bang his head on the side of a painting as he immerged from the curtains and hustled up the stairs. An ambulence came and we were all ushed off the premisis… so pray for him. His journalism students love him, and he’s been very kind to me.

And sorry I have to end it on that note, but that’s life. I miss you guys so much; I’m excited for Mom & Parker to come to London.

Sorry for the delayed post- hopefully this made up for it. I’m trying to get through How the Mind Works, so I’ll leave you.

Not too many days left now: 15, and counting down…. Cheers.

Laura

PS: Thanks for your emails! They’ve been lovely.

PS2: I took this picture four years ago at Westminster Abbey. <3 that place.