"Those people are speaking Welsh and I want to listen!"

It's been a while since I last updated, as Jeff has informed me. Lame, I know. But this is what has happened in the interim:

Gabe came down from London last Sunday to visit me, which was lovely. I hadn't seen him since his Harlem rooftop going-away party in August, so we spent some time catching up whilst wandering around Oxford. I met him at the train station, we grabbed a bite to eat on Broad Street, then I gave him a quick tour of Wadham, before using his presence as an excuse to explore a few of the sites I have yet to see, namely Magdalen College, with a quick stopover at New, so I could show him the cloisters where Harry Potter was filmed. Because, I mean, some things you just have to do.

Magdalen deer park was beautiful. The foilage has changed as much as it ever will over here, it was cloudy but had stopped raining, and wasn't terribly cold either--all somewhat rare occurrences as it heads into the English winter--so it was perfect for a long walk. And so we did, for about two hours, until the cold finally set in, and I took Gabe home to meet my flatmates. The six of us went out to dinner in Summertown, and then I called Gabe a cab, since we both had work to finish. He promised to give me a tour of London sometime soon--take me to this covered marketplace which is supposed to be massive and bohemian and gothy--all the things I love, right? In any case it was wonderful to see him. He mentioned that he was having trouble adjusting, or at the very least, meeting other British students (he's the youngest at his school, which contributes to the problem, since the art students are at least five years older) and that he was glad to see a familiar face. In that same vein, I'm thankful that the transition has been much easier for us, in no small part, I think, because of where we're living and our efforts at being pro-active about going out & meeting people.

Monday was Lottie's birthday tea-party, which was adorable. I brought flowers for her, we wore cute dresses, and drank tea on her dorm room floor. We also met a girl who lives in the flat above us, as well as a boy, James, who lives across the street from us on Banbury Road, with 6 other Oxford students, and a number of Williams students here on exchange. Hopefully there will be ample opportunity for hanging out, then.

Tuesday was, as mentioned in my last blog post, the election. Sheer marvelous chaos. Lots of hugging, screaming, crying, laughing, and a few drunken Americans singing the Star Spangled Banner ad nauseum. Got asked out for drinks by a Georgetown boy admist all the craziness, and got my ass grabbed--twice--by a guy who was a little too exuberant and/or drunk. Amy stared him down. I stood there like a moron. After he went for me again, Amy lost it on him, then lost it on me. "Have I taught you nothing in the past three years?" she asked. "You need to learn to speak up." And she was right, of course. You'd think I would have gotten that by now.

Slept until 3 Wednesday afternoon, after staying up until 630, and everything felt a bit surreal--but happily so. Like after a particuarly good dream. Sarah Lawrence went nuts, of course, and so did New York City. I would have liked to have been there to see it, as memorable as being at the Union was. Also jealous Rahm Emmaunel will be SLC's commencement speaker, which I will miss. But that is neither here nor there.

Thursday we (Amy, Alex, Jeff and I) went to the student production of A Few Good Men at the Oxford Playhouse, which was well done, though Jeff has insisted I need to see the film to truly compare. Friday the Sarah Lawrence Programme took us to Wales for the day, to the ruins of a medieval abbey, and an open air museum (think a combination between Williamsburg and an furniture gallery exhibit at the Met). The weather was perfect for it, we romped around through a decidely Tolkien-esque forest, took loads of pictures, and fell asleep on the bus. Our flat and the Sarah Lawrence flat next door made dinner together, and then I set about reading Ezra Pound's 30 Cantos in, oh, an hour and a half. Which is just not at all what you are supposed to do, but I didn't have the time to do it any other way. The actual criticism took long enough, being as it was all economic theory, which I understood almost none of. Nonetheless, I banged out a paper which is hopefully halfway decent, and at least this week I have The Wasteland to look forward to. Nothing can be as bad as Pound.

Next term I want to continue studying Modernism, but really hand pick the authors I read. I should probably branch out from the American Expatriate scene of the Left Bank in the 20's of which I'm so enamored, but there are so many of them I haven't read.

Went to chapel with Amy and Alex yesterday for Remembrance Sunday; the first time I've been to any kind of service since my grandparents passed away, and before that, it was years. The chapel was packed, the service was typically Wadhamesque--an interesting female pastor who rather upended the way one might traditionally think about the day--and the music was beautiful. You could hear the wind outside, and the rain was coming down furiously. You could almost forget the reason you were actually supposed to be there, it was so cinematic. Afterwards we went out for mulled wine at the Turf with some students in the choir. Looking around, I could only think, "this is exactly what I thought coming here would be like."

This week promises to be a little less insane. Saturday will be London--we're planning on having a literary day. Hitting Bloomsbury and all that.

The next entry will not be quite so prosaic. Promise.