"Sure that this was all and all and all"

"Faces, not flowers," D.H. Lawrence told Clare. It's all about portraits and details, more grit and less beauty. Or maybe just less an outline, more reality. I don't know. It stuck with me; it felt important. Faces, not flowers. My romantic view of the world.

Cari came to visit two weeks ago. It was lovely having her here, before the official start of term, when we could wander the streets and go out for tea, make dinner, drink wine, dress up. All the things we do anyway, but with a relative calm attached. It really is work hard and play hard, she observed. Indeed. So nice, as well, to see the city with a visitor. Oxford is always beautiful--it's impossible to ignore that, even in the cold and the damp and the rain--but sometimes showing it off to someone new reinforces that fact, helps to remind me of where we are. I love the way the buildings around Radcliffe Square look all lit up in the night.

I keep saying there's so much I want to see and do here; that I feel I've barely scratched the surface, both in Oxford and out. So therefore, instead of merely fretting about it, I've decided every weekend I will do something new and adventurous. Alex and Amy--you will be dragged along. I want to see the villages on Oxford's outskirts and wander through the parks. Drink in new pubs, sit in meadows. Walk down streets I've never been. I want to go to London at least once a month. I want to actually do these things and not just say them. I fluctuate between holing up in my flat in sweats, piles of books and bottles of wine for company, sleeping all day and staying up all night, feeling as if we'll be here forever, and panicking over the thought that there's still so much more I want.

"I don't know if I'm having the life changing experience I thought I would be," I confessed to Amy. "You are having a life-changing experience," she affirmed. And you know, that's probably true. I'm past the stage of mere affection for this place, and am starting to fall in love with it. I love my flatmates, I enjoy my tutorials, I'm thrilled about romping around Europe for a month. It is life-changing. Maybe not in the cinematic, in-one-fell-swoop way one might tend to envision things before packing up and leaving home, but in the quiet, more important ways. The ways you learn to sustain yourself, the friendships you make, the day to day experiences you have. I can't wait to see Oxford in the summer, when its warm.

If getting my MFA at Oxford isn't an option, then maybe I'll apply for literature. I feel more at home here, in certain ways, than I ever did in New York.

I will leave you with this, an excerpt of a conversation I had last week over welcome-back-to-Oxford drinks:

Her: "So, what period are writing about for your historical fiction tutorial?"
Me: "The Left Bank in the 20's--the whole expat scene."
Her: "Oh, yeah, yeah I can see it now...So, do you believe in reincarnation?"
Me: "Uhhhhhh."
Her: "Because, now that I look at you, I totally see it. It totally fits. Yeah. Yeah, you were there, and you died young. I don't know of what, but you died young. I don't want to give too much away."
Me: "Uhhh." *gulps wine*


Goodnight.

"greatness is never a given...rather it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things"

Farewell, Bush regime and the eight years of atrocious irresponsibility, heinous judgment, and laugh-so-you-don't-cry soundbites which accompanied you. Here's to hope & change & all the rest.

Watched Obama's inauguration in the Wadham JCR, surrounded by Sarah Lawrence students and Wadhamites alike; it was almost impossible not to be moved by Obama's eloquent, powerful, told-it-like-it-is-but-here's-to-the-promise-of-the-future speech. "This will be the moment that defines a generation," he said. I guess that will come to be true for our generation; not the Clinton years; not the Bush travesty--Obama. That's what our generation will come into--and fingers crossed, four years from now, it will still look as bright as it does right now.

"falling slowly, eyes that know me, and I can't go back"

As predicted, as soon as I actually arrived in Oxford, all the anxiety I was feeling about returning passed. The flight wasn't bad; I was okay mostly, and only panicked a little during takeoff, at which point the woman sitting next to me asked if I was ok, and if I wanted her to take my hand. She did, and we ended up chatting for a while, about authors we both like and places we've been; about my life in Oxford; about hers as an Israeli diplomat living in Moscow for the past year. I never got her name, and she disappeared before I could say goodbye.

It felt ironic, given a conversation I had had while waiting to board in JFK.

Landed at Heathrow around 630 in the morning, then proceeded to drag myself into Oxford by 10, with a splitting headache and thinking only of falling into bed, which I did, for about three hours, before Mark & Jeff roused me, and I set about doing the things that needed to be done--unpacking, food shopping, etc. Alex showed up a few hours later and we headed to the co-op to collect the essentials. The essentials being wine, of course, and the necessary ingredients for our welcome-home-to-the-flat dinner. Watched Gossip Girl at night with the SLC girls next door, then fell into bed around 2; realized I had been up at that point for almost 36 hours straight.

Amy gets back tonight, which will be good. Hopefully Eunice will make it into Oxford from London tomorrow for lunch, and Cari comes as well for two days. Then it's all about work, work, work, this weekend. My evaluations from my tutors were both good--an A from Ballam, A+, surprisingly, from Linda. And now I know what I can improve this term as well. Still, not looking forward to writing that Gertrude Stein essay this weekend. I really think I need to read the last ten pages of Three Lives whilst intoxicated. Need to hit the EFL tomorrow morning to collect sources. Meh. Welcome back, alright. And I know what I'm writing about for my historical fiction tutorial as well--instead of trying to sustain a novella, which didn't quite work for me, I'm going to write invividual vignettes, I think, following the life of a harlequin-turned-picture dealer in the Left Bank in the 20's. Which means, finishing up my Paris research; tracking down images of Picasso's Rose Period, etc. I'm excited.

Now off to do Oxonian Review edits.


This time, I think I actually might be able to leave it all behind.

"And we know it's never simple, never easy, never a clean break"

Had my first major panic attack about leaving last night; took half a Xanax & fell asleep to weird dreams at four in the morning, woke up at one in the afternoon. "You worry too much" Jessie said. Well, yes. About Justin leaving for China in less than forty eight hours, and freaking the fuck out (possibly) when he gets there. We fight more often than not, but he's still my twin, and I've never gone that long without seeing him. And about my mother, here for so long by herself, especially if she's sick, like she's been on and off. Especially if she's lonely.

I keep reminding myself I need to think of this as what it is--an adventure, a learning experience, what I've wanted for so long. It is all of that. I'm also terrified as hell. Despite the fact that I've already spent three months in Oxford, that I have friends there, that I've successfully completed a term. Despite all of that. "I know you're scared," Amy told me before I headed to Heathrow, freaked out about flying transatlantically on my own; about flying at all. "But I'm so proud of you--I know how scared you are--but you came anyway. You came anyway." True enough.

And I still have a week here--if this was back in grade school it would be an entire vacation ahead of me. So what did I do with it?

Well, saw almost everyone I wanted to see, save Holly & Evie in the city, Joanna Ferrell, & some co-workers. Got coffee with Bri, lunch & the movies with Chelz, baked Christmas cookies with the Holland Hill girls, made gingerbread houses with Cari. Went up to Sarah Lawrence, saw my girls. Spent a copious amount of time with Jessie, hanging out, bar hopping, driving around aimlessly. Worked my way through the first season of Felicity, and half a House marathon. Watched all my favorite Christmas specials; saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Marley & Me, Slumdog Millionaire. I want to see Milk & Doubt sometime this week; Revolutionary Road, which I wanted to see the most, especially since they filmed it in Southport, will have to wait til Oxford. Read not a single book. I need to quickly remedy that this week--finish all the historical fiction research I can do here, read Three Lives, etc. Drove down to the beach and sat on the swings to think. Went to Ludlowe, saw the old teachers I go back to confide in. Rang in the New Year with Jessie & Brandon, drunk off too many rum & cokes. Yeah, I drank a lot this break. Was insanely jetlagged the first week I was home, then fell into an anxiety-driven sleep pattern of not falling asleep til three or four then sleeping half the day away.

Had a few dinners with my father. Spent an entertaining afternoon with a Greek notary in Norwalk, since thanks to a will screw-up, my brother and I are now partial owners of an apartment in Athens we weren't due to inherit until after my father passes away. Watched my father & the old Greek man squabble in heightnened Greek. Watched my mother mutter under her breath. Watched a car almost drive into the notary's travel agency.

Started planning spring break with Amy--France with her & Sara; Italy--Venice, Rome, Tuscany; Greece--Athens with my relatives; Prague with Alex; maybe Vienna, Switzerland, Portugal.

Got a drink dumped down my dress by a congenial family friend of Jessie's, who then offered to pay for me the rest of the night. Luckily the dress and my (white) tights survived. Went back to watch a movie with them, was awkwardly groped. Jessie & I fled. Met another guy the week before; we hit it off. But of course I'm leaving. Maybe this summer.

Also had a crisis about what it is I actually want to be--what kind of writer, what I'll be able to sustain, what I have the discipline for. Maybe it isn't what I always assumed it would be. Maybe it's too early to know.

Maybe I just worry too much.