In which the author acquires lodgings.
I have an apartment in Farmville! It is an adorable little studio apartment just one block from campus, two blocks from the English building, two and a half blocks from the bar. I've never lived by myself before, and I am terribly excited. Should I be worried? I don't think so. It's such a tiny town, and so full of people I like, that I think loneliness is near impossible, and besides, perhaps the solitude will inspire serious study. Besides, I will have Aphra, Nell, Roderick, Guinan, Fafnir, Horatio, Yossarian, Elphaba, Quasimodo, Nimue, and Goldberry. My lease officially started yesterday, which I am certain will lead to an exponential increase in my desire to leave this city and move back to the 'ville. The only thing I need now is a job up there. I can find one of those, right?
Under the Redcoat (which, for those of you who don't know, is a reenactment of the occupation of Williamsburg in the summer of 1781 by the British that Colonial Williamsburg holds every year) was this past weekend, and I made a sufficient ass of myself, I believe, which is par for me. It's not that I consumed vast quantities of alcohol; but Saturday night at Chowning's Tavern constituted my third consecutive night of moderate-to-heavy drinking, and the exhaustion took its toll. I am not as young as I once was. The daylight hours were quite enjoyable; it was good to see the Redcoats, even if there were so few in attendance with whom I was acquainted. I had the opportunity to renew my acquaintence with Will Tatum, who seems to have mellowed out quite a bit in the last couple years, and to legitimize my acquaintence with Cole Jones, whom I had previously only known through the internets.
The weekend did generate something of a puzzle, though; when I was (inevitably) arrested and taken to the guardhouse, the officer there asked for my name, and when I gave it to him (I never bother to give false names in these circumstances; "Sarah Chapman" is plenty period), he did a small double-take and asked if I was a Jewess. Now, to the best of my knowledge, I have never met this fellow before in my life, and I am at best somewhere on the fringes of the reenacting world, as I never really got into the hobby myself, just made a few friends within it. And "Chapman" is hardly a Jewish name! Well, before I could recover the presence of mind to ascertain whence the officer had heard such reports of me, I was whisked off behind the guardhouse to be searched. Upon my daring escape, I tracked down and accosted Tatum, demanding that he explain things, since he was the only reenactor there (aside from those employed at Colonial Williamsburg) who would know this information. Not that it's a secret, but I'd sure like to know how people I've never met came by such intelligence. Tatum insists that my faith is not among the many rumors he has spread about me. The question remains unanswered.
On the romantic front, there may be new developments arising. I shall inform you, dear friends, when more solid information becomes available. (I am excited.)
I am about halfway through Bill Ayers's memoir, Fugitive Days, which is fascinating, and I promised myself I would not start another book until I finished this one, but I couldn't resist and started reading Pride and Prejudice from the beautiful big collection of Austen I recently purchased. I have such a stack of books in need of reading! If only I could get paid to do so.
But now I must return to packing. Moving things up to the new place this Tuesday! So exciting!
-Aryn
Under the Redcoat (which, for those of you who don't know, is a reenactment of the occupation of Williamsburg in the summer of 1781 by the British that Colonial Williamsburg holds every year) was this past weekend, and I made a sufficient ass of myself, I believe, which is par for me. It's not that I consumed vast quantities of alcohol; but Saturday night at Chowning's Tavern constituted my third consecutive night of moderate-to-heavy drinking, and the exhaustion took its toll. I am not as young as I once was. The daylight hours were quite enjoyable; it was good to see the Redcoats, even if there were so few in attendance with whom I was acquainted. I had the opportunity to renew my acquaintence with Will Tatum, who seems to have mellowed out quite a bit in the last couple years, and to legitimize my acquaintence with Cole Jones, whom I had previously only known through the internets.
The weekend did generate something of a puzzle, though; when I was (inevitably) arrested and taken to the guardhouse, the officer there asked for my name, and when I gave it to him (I never bother to give false names in these circumstances; "Sarah Chapman" is plenty period), he did a small double-take and asked if I was a Jewess. Now, to the best of my knowledge, I have never met this fellow before in my life, and I am at best somewhere on the fringes of the reenacting world, as I never really got into the hobby myself, just made a few friends within it. And "Chapman" is hardly a Jewish name! Well, before I could recover the presence of mind to ascertain whence the officer had heard such reports of me, I was whisked off behind the guardhouse to be searched. Upon my daring escape, I tracked down and accosted Tatum, demanding that he explain things, since he was the only reenactor there (aside from those employed at Colonial Williamsburg) who would know this information. Not that it's a secret, but I'd sure like to know how people I've never met came by such intelligence. Tatum insists that my faith is not among the many rumors he has spread about me. The question remains unanswered.
On the romantic front, there may be new developments arising. I shall inform you, dear friends, when more solid information becomes available. (I am excited.)
I am about halfway through Bill Ayers's memoir, Fugitive Days, which is fascinating, and I promised myself I would not start another book until I finished this one, but I couldn't resist and started reading Pride and Prejudice from the beautiful big collection of Austen I recently purchased. I have such a stack of books in need of reading! If only I could get paid to do so.
But now I must return to packing. Moving things up to the new place this Tuesday! So exciting!
-Aryn