Cornmarket is one of the busiest streets in Oxford, and I walk down it often, because it's pedestrian only and leads to various of my favorite haunts, like Marks & Spencer. Along the way, I'm lucky to have not only a whole lot of people watching to do, but also a soundtrack, because the street is lined with buskers ranging from a guy playing a ragtime song on his guitar to a young opera singer to a pair of young men playing some really enchanting but hard to place music on the cello.
And then there is the flame juggler. He's almost always there when I pass along the street, tossing and catching three flaming torches. Or at least they look like flaming torches. The question that's been plaguing me is: is the fire real?
Evidence in support of the real fire theory:
1. He sets out a rope to create a 2 meter boundary around himself so that people don't get too close.
2. His face and hands are sooty.
3. The flames look real enough.
Evidence against the real fire theory:
1. He could be doing the boundary thing and making his face sooty just to make us think it's real.
2. The flames don't seem to give off any smoke, either visible or smellable.
3. It would be crazy dangerous if he were using real fire.
So the chances are about 50-50 right now. Clearly, I need to deepen my investigation, for example by observing him when it starts raining or when he ignites and/or quenches the flames. I'll let you know if I ever figure it out.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Sunday, August 5, 2012
An Excursion to the Palace
If I remember right from the guided tour I took (I was a little distracted by all those giant family portraits and all that 24-karat gold leaf on the ceilings), it was built after the War of Spanish Succession on grounds that the crown offered to the Duke as a recompense for valor in battle. But even though the palace has its origins in war, the main dining room is devoted to peace, with trompe l'oeil paintings of deputies from various countries coming together in a grand colonnade. The rest of the state rooms I saw are very heavily decorated in English and French baroque styles, with sweeping views of the palace grounds.
I spent most of the day wandering around outside, marveling at the expanses of sloping lawns and vistas of the tree-lined lake. The ground were carefully landscaped by one of the previous dukes, and the lake was actually artificially dug out, but they were apparently very good at landscaping back then, because it looks very natural and the prospect from almost every point in the park is very pleasing to the eye. Here are some photos, then, from my rambles that day.
Friday, August 3, 2012
July Things
1. The Olympics
Did you know that the BBC Sport website is showing all of the olympics in live stream. Not only that, you can catch up on everything that's already happened, which is what I'm doing right now with the men's synchronized diving, and oh my god, this is brilliant. They're perfectly in synch, down to their every step, even as they approach the edge of the diving board.
Before that, I was catching up on the women's gymnastics, also amazing. I particularly like the parallel bars. Just wow.
2. Walking
I've been going on lots of long rambles since I got to England, some through the city, something through the country. I really like exploring on foot, and so far the weather has been allowing me lots of freedom to do so. I'll be posting pictures soon of my day of walking through the grounds of Blenheim Palace the other day.
3. Book Covers
I've been spending a lot of time in the local bookshops over the last two weeks - I find it's a wonderful refuge from the rush of a city or the onslaught of new sights and sounds. I just step inside and immerse myself in the smell and feel and aesthetic balm of new books. And I've been spending a lot of time just browsing the shelves, admiring cover designs, comparing different editions.
4. Fresh Bread
When you're traveling, and suddenly all the food is different, and you can't find your favorite familiar brands, you can really start to appreciate things that offer the same soothing goodness in far off places, like fresh baked bread. I found a couple of great delis and bakeries to turn to in the neighborhood, and was very happy when I did.
Did you know that the BBC Sport website is showing all of the olympics in live stream. Not only that, you can catch up on everything that's already happened, which is what I'm doing right now with the men's synchronized diving, and oh my god, this is brilliant. They're perfectly in synch, down to their every step, even as they approach the edge of the diving board.
Before that, I was catching up on the women's gymnastics, also amazing. I particularly like the parallel bars. Just wow.
2. Walking
I've been going on lots of long rambles since I got to England, some through the city, something through the country. I really like exploring on foot, and so far the weather has been allowing me lots of freedom to do so. I'll be posting pictures soon of my day of walking through the grounds of Blenheim Palace the other day.
3. Book Covers
I've been spending a lot of time in the local bookshops over the last two weeks - I find it's a wonderful refuge from the rush of a city or the onslaught of new sights and sounds. I just step inside and immerse myself in the smell and feel and aesthetic balm of new books. And I've been spending a lot of time just browsing the shelves, admiring cover designs, comparing different editions.
4. Fresh Bread
When you're traveling, and suddenly all the food is different, and you can't find your favorite familiar brands, you can really start to appreciate things that offer the same soothing goodness in far off places, like fresh baked bread. I found a couple of great delis and bakeries to turn to in the neighborhood, and was very happy when I did.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
A sunny day in Oxford and reflections of the country and the city
Hello again. It is now my 5th day in the UK, and today I come to you bearing pictures. The weather since I arrived has been absolutely glorious (although too hot if you go out past noon), but knowing it won't last, I decided to take my camera out with me today and capture the sunshine.
Most of the ducks are either adults or gangly adolescents at this stage, but these ones are still quite cute, I think.
Once you get down to the Isis, the larger river, there are swans, too.
A book and a pastry by a beautiful river - I couldn't ask for more. I took refuge from the sun on a shady bench and read for an hour or so, until I got the urge to start walking again.
The more I travel, the more I think I'm a strange kind of country girl. I love so dearly some of the trappings of the city - theater and opera, nice clothes, gourmet food, good public transportation, beautiful architecture - and I'm very much a fan of creature comforts like running water and a comfy bed. I hate bugs and creepy-crawlies, and if I'm out in the sun too long my skin burns and my feet swell.
And yet, the contrast in my feelings between the moment I was hustling along the busy street on my way to Christ Church this morning and the moment I stepped off that street, through the college gates, and onto the path leading into the meadow was very strong and in favor of the meadow, not the street. There's a whole other side of the city that I dislike - the throngs of people, the constant humming and rumbling noises and the sharp sounds of cars backfiring or people yelling that always startle me out of my skin, the fumes and stinks, the never-ending barrage of obstacles, from street crossings to people begging you for money. The city, to me, is like an endless series of difficult choices: where should I step? With whom should I make eye-contact? On which side of the street should I walk? At which café should I buy my lunch? What should I buy for lunch? Is this a good neighborhood to be walking in? Is that car going to stop for me or not?
What I prefer is to be walking along a single dirt path, preferably even along a natural path, like the bank of a river, with my picnic already packed and only one book in my bag to read, with no need to talk to any one I meet unless I feel like bidding them good morning, and no buildings or traffic hemming me in and forcing me into somebody else's path. My mind roams so much more freely when my feet walk freely.
I'm not saying the country is a place of perfect peace. Actually, I found it harder to sit and read my book on my little shady bench today than I did a few days ago in the café at Blackwell's bookstore. There were little flies and bugs to be flicked off my arm or my foot and pigeons taking off suddenly, making the branches rattle overhead, and even the occasional walker going by. But the bugs were small and not very gross, the pigeons were pretty to see flying, and the walkers went calmly on their way without either of us disturbing the other.
The thing is that more and more, it seems, the things I like about the city - the food, the arts - are moving out to the country. In the UK, there's a whole slew of 'gastro-pubs,' where they serve haute cuisine in tiny little country towns. And traveling theater companies sometimes land in the darnedest of places. And the fact is that I don't take advantage of half the cultural offerings a given city has to offer, because more often than not the energy it would take to go out and take the harrowing journey to get where I'm going, outweighs the pleasure of the event itself.
When I was in Paris, I spent entire days cooped up in my tiny room because the thought of striking out on the streets was far too tiring. But of course I don't want to spend my life staying in. More and more, recently, I've been feeling a little stifled indoors. Maybe the last few years of small dorm rooms are finally catching up to me. Or maybe this summer, during which I got to visit Yosemite and camp along the north coast and hike in the local hills a fair amount, has rekindled an outdoorsy feeling in me.
I think what I'd really like is to have a grand country house with plenty of space indoors and outdoors and a driver to take me to the station when I wanted to go into town and enough room to host friends and invite musicians and writers and other interesting people to stay and a stage on the grounds where traveling theater companies could put on plays and a beautiful kitchen where I could cook up my own delicious dinners and a great big workshop space to accomplish all the creative projects that my daily walks around the countryside would inspire.
Alas, it's not that simple, is it?
Part of my admiration of nature today included this tree, which is in the part of the Christ Church gardens that's off limits to visitors, but which you can see through a little side gate. I'm not sure I've managed to convey it in this photo, but it's the most magnificent tree. It grows up as tall as the main building, which is pretty tall and impressive itself, and I wish I could have gone and stood under it to look up at its branches from below - I think it would have been beautiful.
I also noted this tree, which peeks over the wall of some college I don't know the name of, right near the Radcliffe Camera. I took a picture of it when I was last in Oxford, two years ago, which is below.
As you can see, it was a little less bright and sunny that day. I was there in October, so that's understandable. But I just love the gold-green tint of its leaves and the way it reaches up over the roof. Either it's planted on a raised terrace, or it's very very tall.
So, this has been quite a rambling post.
I did promise yesterday a bit about the play I saw last night, which was the Globe's touring production of Hamlet. To be brief, it was an excellent production, very clean and clear and engrossing. The group was small, and most actors played a few parts and did so very well. The Hamlet was actually a foreigner, possibly a true Dane, which added to his seeming an outsider and a loner. All the actors either played instruments or sang, and the show began and ended with rousing, period music which gave it all a very old-theater, carnavalesque feeling that I liked a lot. The play within a play was particularly well done, with some clever curtain movements and a really fantastic rendition of the prologue/dumb show. Here's a quick picture of the stage that I snapped today on my way past - can't see it very well, but my camera battery was dying and that's the best I could do.
I spent most of the morning at Christ Church Meadows, which is a beautiful expanse of lawns and meadows threaded through by the rivers Charwell and Isis (Charwell is pronounced Cherwell, unless it's actually called Cherwell and pronounced Charwell....I can't remember). I've gone walking there several mornings this week, and it's certainly one of my favorite bits of Oxford so far. There aren't too many people, especially if you go early. The tourists are all too busy lining up to take a tour of Christ Church college, so that leaves you with a few joggers, absorbed in their own exercise, the one homeless guy who stands at the same point of the river bank every morning with his radio and bids you a very polite "Good morning, miss," and a handful of fellow contemplators of nature. Oh, and the cows and the ducks. I ran across this little family sunning themselves on the bank this morning.
Most of the ducks are either adults or gangly adolescents at this stage, but these ones are still quite cute, I think.
Once you get down to the Isis, the larger river, there are swans, too.
This is how I spent my morning, then:
A book and a pastry by a beautiful river - I couldn't ask for more. I took refuge from the sun on a shady bench and read for an hour or so, until I got the urge to start walking again.
The more I travel, the more I think I'm a strange kind of country girl. I love so dearly some of the trappings of the city - theater and opera, nice clothes, gourmet food, good public transportation, beautiful architecture - and I'm very much a fan of creature comforts like running water and a comfy bed. I hate bugs and creepy-crawlies, and if I'm out in the sun too long my skin burns and my feet swell.
And yet, the contrast in my feelings between the moment I was hustling along the busy street on my way to Christ Church this morning and the moment I stepped off that street, through the college gates, and onto the path leading into the meadow was very strong and in favor of the meadow, not the street. There's a whole other side of the city that I dislike - the throngs of people, the constant humming and rumbling noises and the sharp sounds of cars backfiring or people yelling that always startle me out of my skin, the fumes and stinks, the never-ending barrage of obstacles, from street crossings to people begging you for money. The city, to me, is like an endless series of difficult choices: where should I step? With whom should I make eye-contact? On which side of the street should I walk? At which café should I buy my lunch? What should I buy for lunch? Is this a good neighborhood to be walking in? Is that car going to stop for me or not?
What I prefer is to be walking along a single dirt path, preferably even along a natural path, like the bank of a river, with my picnic already packed and only one book in my bag to read, with no need to talk to any one I meet unless I feel like bidding them good morning, and no buildings or traffic hemming me in and forcing me into somebody else's path. My mind roams so much more freely when my feet walk freely.
I'm not saying the country is a place of perfect peace. Actually, I found it harder to sit and read my book on my little shady bench today than I did a few days ago in the café at Blackwell's bookstore. There were little flies and bugs to be flicked off my arm or my foot and pigeons taking off suddenly, making the branches rattle overhead, and even the occasional walker going by. But the bugs were small and not very gross, the pigeons were pretty to see flying, and the walkers went calmly on their way without either of us disturbing the other.
The thing is that more and more, it seems, the things I like about the city - the food, the arts - are moving out to the country. In the UK, there's a whole slew of 'gastro-pubs,' where they serve haute cuisine in tiny little country towns. And traveling theater companies sometimes land in the darnedest of places. And the fact is that I don't take advantage of half the cultural offerings a given city has to offer, because more often than not the energy it would take to go out and take the harrowing journey to get where I'm going, outweighs the pleasure of the event itself.
When I was in Paris, I spent entire days cooped up in my tiny room because the thought of striking out on the streets was far too tiring. But of course I don't want to spend my life staying in. More and more, recently, I've been feeling a little stifled indoors. Maybe the last few years of small dorm rooms are finally catching up to me. Or maybe this summer, during which I got to visit Yosemite and camp along the north coast and hike in the local hills a fair amount, has rekindled an outdoorsy feeling in me.
I think what I'd really like is to have a grand country house with plenty of space indoors and outdoors and a driver to take me to the station when I wanted to go into town and enough room to host friends and invite musicians and writers and other interesting people to stay and a stage on the grounds where traveling theater companies could put on plays and a beautiful kitchen where I could cook up my own delicious dinners and a great big workshop space to accomplish all the creative projects that my daily walks around the countryside would inspire.
Alas, it's not that simple, is it?
Part of my admiration of nature today included this tree, which is in the part of the Christ Church gardens that's off limits to visitors, but which you can see through a little side gate. I'm not sure I've managed to convey it in this photo, but it's the most magnificent tree. It grows up as tall as the main building, which is pretty tall and impressive itself, and I wish I could have gone and stood under it to look up at its branches from below - I think it would have been beautiful.
I also noted this tree, which peeks over the wall of some college I don't know the name of, right near the Radcliffe Camera. I took a picture of it when I was last in Oxford, two years ago, which is below.
As you can see, it was a little less bright and sunny that day. I was there in October, so that's understandable. But I just love the gold-green tint of its leaves and the way it reaches up over the roof. Either it's planted on a raised terrace, or it's very very tall.
So, this has been quite a rambling post.
I did promise yesterday a bit about the play I saw last night, which was the Globe's touring production of Hamlet. To be brief, it was an excellent production, very clean and clear and engrossing. The group was small, and most actors played a few parts and did so very well. The Hamlet was actually a foreigner, possibly a true Dane, which added to his seeming an outsider and a loner. All the actors either played instruments or sang, and the show began and ended with rousing, period music which gave it all a very old-theater, carnavalesque feeling that I liked a lot. The play within a play was particularly well done, with some clever curtain movements and a really fantastic rendition of the prologue/dumb show. Here's a quick picture of the stage that I snapped today on my way past - can't see it very well, but my camera battery was dying and that's the best I could do.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Arrived
This is not a post about my first impressions of the UK because I've been here before. But even when one has traveled a lot, and to the same place, it's funny how disorienting it is to get on a plane, sit in the dark for 10 hours trying to sleep, and then step out onto a different piece of land. And it's funny how the little things get me every time - the license plates being yellow and oblong, the change of currency, and even, yes, the accents. I had to look down to hide my giggles as I walked through the airport, hearing people pattering on in odd accents as if it were entirely normal, which of course it is, just not to me.
So now I'm here, that is, in Oxford (I'm not going to school here, btw, just visiting). Miraculously, I seem to have brought the weather with me from California, and every morning so far my tired, jet-lagged eyes have opened to a very bright sun shining through the window. I keep forgetting to bring my camera when I go out, so unfortunately I don't have any pictures yet to share with you all, but you can imagine me strolling beside a calm river or threading through throngs of tourists or glancing frantically right and left and left and right every time I cross a street.
I've spent most of my time so far walking around and browsing through bookstores, and I've been noticing for the first time the differences between UK and US covers of the same books. I suppose it's because I've been paying more attention to current publications recently, so I can really see the difference between two editions that have been published simultaneously, instead of just chalking up the disparity to reprints over time. I think that designing book covers must be a fascinating job, because you get to essentially present your visual interpretation of the book, like a stage director, and see other people's as well. I suppose it appeals to me in the same way costume design appeals to me. But I wonder if you have to have a strong background in art or graphic design to get into that field.
But anyhow, so far I've resisted any book purchases because I'm sunk deep into Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, which I strongly recommend to anyone who likes historical fiction and anyone who doesn't. It's the story of Henry VIII's wife debacle told from the perspective of Thomas Cromwell, an unlikely hero but an entirely captivating one. I'm only about a third of the way through, but I have no doubts it will continue to be excellent, especially since the sequel, Bring Up the Bodies is getting lots of praise as well. In this case, I have the American cover, which I like better - it's got little historical portraits peeking out from the 'o' of 'Wolf' and the 'a' of 'Hall', all set against a brilliant crimson background.
Tonight I'm seeing the Globe theater's production of Hamlet in the courtyard of the Bodleian library. Hopefully, I'll have time to write a bit about it tomorrow, before I head to Germany for the weekend.
So now I'm here, that is, in Oxford (I'm not going to school here, btw, just visiting). Miraculously, I seem to have brought the weather with me from California, and every morning so far my tired, jet-lagged eyes have opened to a very bright sun shining through the window. I keep forgetting to bring my camera when I go out, so unfortunately I don't have any pictures yet to share with you all, but you can imagine me strolling beside a calm river or threading through throngs of tourists or glancing frantically right and left and left and right every time I cross a street.
I've spent most of my time so far walking around and browsing through bookstores, and I've been noticing for the first time the differences between UK and US covers of the same books. I suppose it's because I've been paying more attention to current publications recently, so I can really see the difference between two editions that have been published simultaneously, instead of just chalking up the disparity to reprints over time. I think that designing book covers must be a fascinating job, because you get to essentially present your visual interpretation of the book, like a stage director, and see other people's as well. I suppose it appeals to me in the same way costume design appeals to me. But I wonder if you have to have a strong background in art or graphic design to get into that field.
But anyhow, so far I've resisted any book purchases because I'm sunk deep into Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel, which I strongly recommend to anyone who likes historical fiction and anyone who doesn't. It's the story of Henry VIII's wife debacle told from the perspective of Thomas Cromwell, an unlikely hero but an entirely captivating one. I'm only about a third of the way through, but I have no doubts it will continue to be excellent, especially since the sequel, Bring Up the Bodies is getting lots of praise as well. In this case, I have the American cover, which I like better - it's got little historical portraits peeking out from the 'o' of 'Wolf' and the 'a' of 'Hall', all set against a brilliant crimson background.
Tonight I'm seeing the Globe theater's production of Hamlet in the courtyard of the Bodleian library. Hopefully, I'll have time to write a bit about it tomorrow, before I head to Germany for the weekend.
Friday, July 13, 2012
10 Things I Like About This Trip
Here I am with another list. Since I've been feeling kind of nervous about my upcoming trip, I thought I'd make a little list of things I'm looking forward to.
1. Great theater. I just read today about a new season of plays being put on by the Michael Grandage Company in London, which include a Martin McDonagh play ("Cripple of Inishmaan") starring Daniel Radcliffe and a new play about Alice Liddell Hargreaves and Peter Llewelyn Davies starring Judi Dench and Ben Wishaw, about which my feelings can be summed up by alksjdfldkjfpsodiflk, more or less. In addition to that, I've already got tickets to see some amazing shows in Oxford, London, and Edinburgh.
2. Fish & chips. I like them a lot.
3. Taking pictures. It's been a while since I really played around with a camera, but I'm sure I'll have mine out a lot over the next few months.
4. Living out of a suitcase. This may sound a bit odd, but I'm actually looking forward to it because I've spent the summer surrounded by my collected stuff, as I said in my last post, and I'm very ready to live a lean life now. I keep paring down my packing list, trying to pack very light, or as light as I can for a year-long trip.
5. Reading. I've done a fair bit of reading this summer, given my usual (very slow) rate, but in the last few weeks I've fallen off a bit. I've also realized how much fun it is to read in a group, and so I'm very much looking forward to being in literature classes again.
6. Making new friends. Don't get me wrong, I do love my old friends, very dearly indeed. But there's a particular joy in making new friends, no matter who they are. I believe it's Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park (correct me if I'm wrong) who bemoans the particular pain of parting with new acquaintances because there is still so much to know about them and learn from them. I find there's a particular pleasure that's the flip side of that pain. And what better way to find that than to move somewhere I've never been and where I know no one!
7. Having lots to write about on this blog. I do love blogging, but sometimes it feels like I'm scrambling for interesting thoughts. In that vein, I also find my creative mind is very fertile while traveling, so I'm looking forward to indulging that part of myself and taking some time to write.
8. Traveling to Germany for the first time. After studying German language and literature for five years, I'm very excited to actually go there and try out my chops. To add to the fun, I'm going there to attend a wedding, which will be the second wedding I've ever been to, and the first where I wasn't employed in some capacity. I also know no one else who will be attending except my sister, who I'm going with (I've never met the bride or the groom :)), so I have no expectations except good ones.
9. Wearing my winter clothes again. San Francisco summer notwithstanding, I've been living in shorts for a while now, and while I'll miss it very much indeed, I'm also looking forward to pulling on my beautiful winter coat again.
10. Getting to the other side of the scary moment of transition and sinking into the fun and wonder of the actual trip.
1. Great theater. I just read today about a new season of plays being put on by the Michael Grandage Company in London, which include a Martin McDonagh play ("Cripple of Inishmaan") starring Daniel Radcliffe and a new play about Alice Liddell Hargreaves and Peter Llewelyn Davies starring Judi Dench and Ben Wishaw, about which my feelings can be summed up by alksjdfldkjfpsodiflk, more or less. In addition to that, I've already got tickets to see some amazing shows in Oxford, London, and Edinburgh.
2. Fish & chips. I like them a lot.
3. Taking pictures. It's been a while since I really played around with a camera, but I'm sure I'll have mine out a lot over the next few months.
4. Living out of a suitcase. This may sound a bit odd, but I'm actually looking forward to it because I've spent the summer surrounded by my collected stuff, as I said in my last post, and I'm very ready to live a lean life now. I keep paring down my packing list, trying to pack very light, or as light as I can for a year-long trip.
5. Reading. I've done a fair bit of reading this summer, given my usual (very slow) rate, but in the last few weeks I've fallen off a bit. I've also realized how much fun it is to read in a group, and so I'm very much looking forward to being in literature classes again.
6. Making new friends. Don't get me wrong, I do love my old friends, very dearly indeed. But there's a particular joy in making new friends, no matter who they are. I believe it's Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park (correct me if I'm wrong) who bemoans the particular pain of parting with new acquaintances because there is still so much to know about them and learn from them. I find there's a particular pleasure that's the flip side of that pain. And what better way to find that than to move somewhere I've never been and where I know no one!
7. Having lots to write about on this blog. I do love blogging, but sometimes it feels like I'm scrambling for interesting thoughts. In that vein, I also find my creative mind is very fertile while traveling, so I'm looking forward to indulging that part of myself and taking some time to write.
8. Traveling to Germany for the first time. After studying German language and literature for five years, I'm very excited to actually go there and try out my chops. To add to the fun, I'm going there to attend a wedding, which will be the second wedding I've ever been to, and the first where I wasn't employed in some capacity. I also know no one else who will be attending except my sister, who I'm going with (I've never met the bride or the groom :)), so I have no expectations except good ones.
9. Wearing my winter clothes again. San Francisco summer notwithstanding, I've been living in shorts for a while now, and while I'll miss it very much indeed, I'm also looking forward to pulling on my beautiful winter coat again.
10. Getting to the other side of the scary moment of transition and sinking into the fun and wonder of the actual trip.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Pre-departure thoughts
Oops. I was doing really well there for a while, blogging a couple of days in a row. Then I got busy. Sorry about that.
I leave for England in 8 days. How is that possible? Half of my desk is covered with things-I'm-bringing-to-England. I've made a preliminary packing list. It's kind of starting to feel a little bit real. But only a little, because even up until the moment I step onto the plane, it will still be unreal to me that I'll be thousands of miles away in another country, on another continent, starting the new phase of my life, which I've been planning for SO long.
It's odd, though, how as I begin this year, I'm already thinking of next year. I spent the last month-and-a-half sorting through all my belongings, from childhood toys to college notebooks, and in addition to making me feel hopelessly materialist and sentimental, that process also gave me a very strong desire to start establishing a space where I can live with all my objects, where I can hang the pictures I never hung up or admire the books that are currently packed carefully into cardboard boxes.
So I thought I'd do a little 5-year plan here, before I set off, a list of things I want to achieve in the next few years. In no particular order, I'd like to:
Move into a house with friends.
Own a cat.
Earn a master's degree.
Start earning my keep.
Get something published (could be a story, a few articles, a book).
Write something (could be a novel, a series of short stories....This should probably come before getting something published).
Travel to New Zealand and/or Scandinavia
Start playing around with my video camera again.
Start playing music again.
Become a more accomplished seamstress and sew more of my own clothes.
Become more fit.
I guess that's it for now. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is literally all I know about what I want to do after this year. Who needs plans, anyway?
Right now, I'm focusing on this year, about which I'm both very excited and pretty nervous. I'm starting to get intermittent bouts of butterflies in my stomach. I'm an odd combination of ambitious and not adventurous. I'm both curious and timid. Which is why I'm going to England, not, say, India.
So even though I have a very strong nesting instinct, which is making me dream of a nice big house with a nice big kitchen and a library and a workshop...I'm going to indulge my wanderlust a little before I give into my nestlust.
My next post may be coming to you from England. Maybe I'll even start posting some pictures of my travels here. Who knows? I'm practicing exploring and not knowing.
I leave for England in 8 days. How is that possible? Half of my desk is covered with things-I'm-bringing-to-England. I've made a preliminary packing list. It's kind of starting to feel a little bit real. But only a little, because even up until the moment I step onto the plane, it will still be unreal to me that I'll be thousands of miles away in another country, on another continent, starting the new phase of my life, which I've been planning for SO long.
It's odd, though, how as I begin this year, I'm already thinking of next year. I spent the last month-and-a-half sorting through all my belongings, from childhood toys to college notebooks, and in addition to making me feel hopelessly materialist and sentimental, that process also gave me a very strong desire to start establishing a space where I can live with all my objects, where I can hang the pictures I never hung up or admire the books that are currently packed carefully into cardboard boxes.
So I thought I'd do a little 5-year plan here, before I set off, a list of things I want to achieve in the next few years. In no particular order, I'd like to:
Move into a house with friends.
Own a cat.
Earn a master's degree.
Start earning my keep.
Get something published (could be a story, a few articles, a book).
Write something (could be a novel, a series of short stories....This should probably come before getting something published).
Travel to New Zealand and/or Scandinavia
Start playing around with my video camera again.
Start playing music again.
Become a more accomplished seamstress and sew more of my own clothes.
Become more fit.
I guess that's it for now. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is literally all I know about what I want to do after this year. Who needs plans, anyway?
Right now, I'm focusing on this year, about which I'm both very excited and pretty nervous. I'm starting to get intermittent bouts of butterflies in my stomach. I'm an odd combination of ambitious and not adventurous. I'm both curious and timid. Which is why I'm going to England, not, say, India.
So even though I have a very strong nesting instinct, which is making me dream of a nice big house with a nice big kitchen and a library and a workshop...I'm going to indulge my wanderlust a little before I give into my nestlust.
My next post may be coming to you from England. Maybe I'll even start posting some pictures of my travels here. Who knows? I'm practicing exploring and not knowing.
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