Do you know the way...?
Well.
I'm in England.
I've been in England for... let's see... 31 hours or so. And wow. It was all just so amazing, really. English keyboards are different from American ones. So far it's not so bad, really, but quotation marks are in odd places. But it's all fine. Anyway.
First a story. A Christmas story. I call it "The story of Schmuel." When I was at the airport, there was this group from First Baptist Church (uh oh) going to Peru (poor Peruvians). And so I went to the bathroom and one of three girls in there says, "Is lead dangerous?" (Bad enough, I know, but it gets worse. Or better.)#
Me, while washing hands: "Yes. Very. Lead poisoning can kill you." (Insert startled looks from the other two girls.) "Women in the Renaissance used to use it to powder their faces white and all died of lead poisoning." (After a moment, having seen in the mirror that they looked stupified.) "They used to put it in paints, too; kids and infants would be brought into hospitals with lead poisoning." And so they all look really nervous, and I just rolled my eyes a bit. Then, as I'm drying my hands, I hear the following:
"See, my pencil slipped and I accidentally stabbed myself..."
Yes. They thought that it was actually, really and truly lead. That pencil lead was elemental lead. So, cue me again. "Actually, that won't hurt you because that's not lead. That's graphite; pure carbon." (After some very weird looks.) "Same stuff as in in diamonds."
"...Oh." (As I turn and head for the door, they start talking again behind me.) "Oh, look at my hair..."
And that is the latest from Ridiculing Idiots Central.
So. On the plane I sat next to this lovely girl and her father. (Note to self: put her email on my contacts list.) Anyway, we had just great, great fun talking, and they made sure I got to where I needed to go, we talked, I saw House for the first time (Nice show, isn't it?) and so on and so forth. Really a nice business all together. So I had a nice nine hours on the plane. And then! THEN! I got to the airport, and there were the kids, and the first four I didn't much like. The other two girls I disliked also. (One of them is... unlikeable. Fat cow, in my opinion.) And there was this other girl who turned up who was fairly boring. But!!! *SQUEES MUCHLY*
So, I was wearing my Defy Gravity shirt, and for a reason. *smirk* Best way to identify fellow 'heads. Wear a shirt. So basically the plan was: if they ask 'bout Wicked, ask what other shows they like, and... *beams* It worked. So well. *happybouncie* So about half an hour into being in England I had a new friend. She's in zoology and Greek history classes (major and minor, in that order). And she's like literally on the other side of Jesus College from me room wise (basically about two minutes walk, really). BUT!
Katie's a Renthead. And she loves Wicked. And she is a member of The Loser's Club (we're planning to make official membership cards). And she crocheted herself a Mark scarf! (Yes, that is the level of Rent-loserliness.) And she's liberal, lives in NC, and... just... *SQUEES SO MUCH* She's also sitting right behind me. *laugh* Anyway.
So, we sat next to each other on this almost interminable bus ride, talked about so so much, and... wow. So we're just hangin' out now. And I observed that it took about five minutes of a full group mingle for the cliques to start to form.
I also met Jesse, a Renthead in my Drama class, so she's pretty cool. I have this awesome single room. It is unfortunately on the fourth floor. Getting bags up there was hell. But now it's really quite nice. Got a little balcony, a nice desk, and my own bathroom. OH! And Katie has a piano in her room which I am totally stealing to play on in exchange for my shower, which is far nicer than hers is. My room is also totally space efficient. Bed kind of doubles as a couch and has storage space, the closets are stylish and stuff, and... wow. The bathroom is this weird material on the floor, with a drain like in the center of the room and a corner with curtains for the shower. Literally, there is no showerspace, just a showerhead. There's weird things and stuff, too, but it's all good.
Oh, and my damn credit card isn't working quite right.
The photojournalism teachers asked me if I was taking their class, because I had my camera. I told them no, obviously, as I'm not. But they were impressed I had it. Neither of them are actually pro journalists or photographers. One's actually an astrophysics student here at Cambridge. How funky is that? My Drama teacher is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately, there's this French girl in my class who is... very nice, really very nice, but she doesn't entirely understand the language, and so it was hard for her to understand some of the games and stuff. Made it hard it hard to play. But she's nice.
And now the little problem I'm having. My minor class is Philosophy of Science. Nice teacher, and it looks... interesting? But not... what I want to do. The guy who gave me the tour of the campus and city (my group, that is) yesterday is a teacher, from Houston, in fact. And... he's the creative writing teacher. The class my parents didn't sign me up for because they wanted me to take the other. (This would be Dad yesterday on the phone: "You have to tell me everything you learn in it, okay?" They were about a thousand times more excited about that course than I was. Grrh.) So, basic story is this:
I'm changing courses today. I'm finding someone after this speaker and requesting a change. Or tonight, after dinner, as I have to meet with this girl from my Drama class about these sonnets we have to perform tomorrow. I got "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day," thankfully. She seemed to think the assignment we got was hard (taking the sonnet and, with a partner, acting it out). Idiot. Anyway, I have to make the change ASAP. Because otherwise he'd take it really, really personally. And I feel bad, as there are six people in the course, but... I don't want to do it. I had a voicemail from my dad in that disappointed tone that pisses you off more than your parents yelling at you telling me to let him know how the change over went. *mutterglowerglare* I didn't want to do it in the first place. They expect me to be happy and sit around and do it?
God. It's my bloody summer vacation. They have influence over every other part of my life. Let me at least have my own courses, dammit.
So I'm changing to Creative Writing. *nods firmly*
Two quick personal notes:
Heather: note the entry for you above and respond. They have payphones.
Aubrey: *GLARES AT* Check your email and abide by its contents or feel the wrath of the Lee.
I'll be online as I can.
I'm in England.
I've been in England for... let's see... 31 hours or so. And wow. It was all just so amazing, really. English keyboards are different from American ones. So far it's not so bad, really, but quotation marks are in odd places. But it's all fine. Anyway.
First a story. A Christmas story. I call it "The story of Schmuel." When I was at the airport, there was this group from First Baptist Church (uh oh) going to Peru (poor Peruvians). And so I went to the bathroom and one of three girls in there says, "Is lead dangerous?" (Bad enough, I know, but it gets worse. Or better.)#
Me, while washing hands: "Yes. Very. Lead poisoning can kill you." (Insert startled looks from the other two girls.) "Women in the Renaissance used to use it to powder their faces white and all died of lead poisoning." (After a moment, having seen in the mirror that they looked stupified.) "They used to put it in paints, too; kids and infants would be brought into hospitals with lead poisoning." And so they all look really nervous, and I just rolled my eyes a bit. Then, as I'm drying my hands, I hear the following:
"See, my pencil slipped and I accidentally stabbed myself..."
Yes. They thought that it was actually, really and truly lead. That pencil lead was elemental lead. So, cue me again. "Actually, that won't hurt you because that's not lead. That's graphite; pure carbon." (After some very weird looks.) "Same stuff as in in diamonds."
"...Oh." (As I turn and head for the door, they start talking again behind me.) "Oh, look at my hair..."
And that is the latest from Ridiculing Idiots Central.
So. On the plane I sat next to this lovely girl and her father. (Note to self: put her email on my contacts list.) Anyway, we had just great, great fun talking, and they made sure I got to where I needed to go, we talked, I saw House for the first time (Nice show, isn't it?) and so on and so forth. Really a nice business all together. So I had a nice nine hours on the plane. And then! THEN! I got to the airport, and there were the kids, and the first four I didn't much like. The other two girls I disliked also. (One of them is... unlikeable. Fat cow, in my opinion.) And there was this other girl who turned up who was fairly boring. But!!! *SQUEES MUCHLY*
So, I was wearing my Defy Gravity shirt, and for a reason. *smirk* Best way to identify fellow 'heads. Wear a shirt. So basically the plan was: if they ask 'bout Wicked, ask what other shows they like, and... *beams* It worked. So well. *happybouncie* So about half an hour into being in England I had a new friend. She's in zoology and Greek history classes (major and minor, in that order). And she's like literally on the other side of Jesus College from me room wise (basically about two minutes walk, really). BUT!
Katie's a Renthead. And she loves Wicked. And she is a member of The Loser's Club (we're planning to make official membership cards). And she crocheted herself a Mark scarf! (Yes, that is the level of Rent-loserliness.) And she's liberal, lives in NC, and... just... *SQUEES SO MUCH* She's also sitting right behind me. *laugh* Anyway.
So, we sat next to each other on this almost interminable bus ride, talked about so so much, and... wow. So we're just hangin' out now. And I observed that it took about five minutes of a full group mingle for the cliques to start to form.
I also met Jesse, a Renthead in my Drama class, so she's pretty cool. I have this awesome single room. It is unfortunately on the fourth floor. Getting bags up there was hell. But now it's really quite nice. Got a little balcony, a nice desk, and my own bathroom. OH! And Katie has a piano in her room which I am totally stealing to play on in exchange for my shower, which is far nicer than hers is. My room is also totally space efficient. Bed kind of doubles as a couch and has storage space, the closets are stylish and stuff, and... wow. The bathroom is this weird material on the floor, with a drain like in the center of the room and a corner with curtains for the shower. Literally, there is no showerspace, just a showerhead. There's weird things and stuff, too, but it's all good.
Oh, and my damn credit card isn't working quite right.
The photojournalism teachers asked me if I was taking their class, because I had my camera. I told them no, obviously, as I'm not. But they were impressed I had it. Neither of them are actually pro journalists or photographers. One's actually an astrophysics student here at Cambridge. How funky is that? My Drama teacher is absolutely amazing. Unfortunately, there's this French girl in my class who is... very nice, really very nice, but she doesn't entirely understand the language, and so it was hard for her to understand some of the games and stuff. Made it hard it hard to play. But she's nice.
And now the little problem I'm having. My minor class is Philosophy of Science. Nice teacher, and it looks... interesting? But not... what I want to do. The guy who gave me the tour of the campus and city (my group, that is) yesterday is a teacher, from Houston, in fact. And... he's the creative writing teacher. The class my parents didn't sign me up for because they wanted me to take the other. (This would be Dad yesterday on the phone: "You have to tell me everything you learn in it, okay?" They were about a thousand times more excited about that course than I was. Grrh.) So, basic story is this:
I'm changing courses today. I'm finding someone after this speaker and requesting a change. Or tonight, after dinner, as I have to meet with this girl from my Drama class about these sonnets we have to perform tomorrow. I got "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day," thankfully. She seemed to think the assignment we got was hard (taking the sonnet and, with a partner, acting it out). Idiot. Anyway, I have to make the change ASAP. Because otherwise he'd take it really, really personally. And I feel bad, as there are six people in the course, but... I don't want to do it. I had a voicemail from my dad in that disappointed tone that pisses you off more than your parents yelling at you telling me to let him know how the change over went. *mutterglowerglare* I didn't want to do it in the first place. They expect me to be happy and sit around and do it?
God. It's my bloody summer vacation. They have influence over every other part of my life. Let me at least have my own courses, dammit.
So I'm changing to Creative Writing. *nods firmly*
Two quick personal notes:
Heather: note the entry for you above and respond. They have payphones.
Aubrey: *GLARES AT* Check your email and abide by its contents or feel the wrath of the Lee.
I'll be online as I can.