The Stacks of Splendor

Radcliffe Camera

There is an air about Oxford that makes me want to better myself.

The Bodelian Library, much older than myself and my home country combined, instills in me a work ethic that I have never felt before. Along the walls on the inside of the Old Bodelian (in the courtyard), there are little wooden doors...each telling secrets in the Latin names above them.

Across the way, through a passage, I am greeted by the unseasonably warm English sun as I walk along the cobblestones (the kind that you fear for the safety of your ankles on). Through the gate that surrounds the Radcliffe camera, I'm greeted by a large round building with a great dome on its head like a proud hat. The building itself is reminiscent of the Italian Renaissance and nearly as old. I'm of the lucky few. In order to get inside the Camera, down to the vast stores of information, you have to flash the symbol that you belong-- your Oxford ID card.

Even though I am an official Oxford student, the process of flashing this badge of intelligence still makes me feel uneasy.

Will they see me as an impostor?

These thoughts run through my head as I'm finally let down the stairs to conquer one paper or another.

Down in the Gladstone Link, the newly developed section of the library that is underground and connects the Camera to the Old Bodelian, there is a different atmosphere. Gone are the heavy clouds of ancient scholars (or that might be the ancient dust) looming over current researchers, in its place there is a feeling of optimistic modernity as one is surrounded by materials for research. The shelves feel like spinning death traps because so many books are housed here that all the shelves are pushed together. In order to obtain a book from a particular section, you have to spin a wheel on the outside of a shelf to separate it out from its brothers; in turn, moving entire sections of the shelves down the halls. The real danger is attempting to not squish any little old women that may be lurking in the shadows of the aisles they are in. It feels like a torture chamber: lights flicker on only as you move the shelf. The shelves themselves are the instruments of torture.

I can't wait to go back.  

Once upon a time...I went to England. Where I discovered my best was not good enough.

It's been too long, dear friends, since I have last broken the silence of this blog. My life has drastically changed since last October (nearly a year ago!).

Here is a rough breakdown:

1) I have broken my chain of ridiculous fickleness and have been in a splendid relationship for over a year now.

2) I'm graduating college this year! Whattttt? When did I get to be so old?! (This is generally what I think every time I spend my own money and I look at my GRE - an exam for grad school - study guide.)

3) Perhaps the biggest change of all.... I'M AN OXFORD STUDENT!

Have you heard? I go to school in England now! That's right, the world has proven that I am in fact pretty dang smart. (I must not inflate my ego, I must not inflate my ego)

About a week ago, I hopped on a plane in Sacramento, CA and flew to London, England (with a layover in Dallas of course). The entire trip felt like a dream. Am I really doing this? was all I could think about.

Outside the Old Bodelian Library

Why yes, this is the Great Hall from Harry Potter. At Christ Church College

Yes children, I really did it.

After being here for only a week my life has already been changed drastically. I'm excited to wander in a town that was established well before America was even a glimmer of a thought. I'm longing to prance down the halls of colleges established in the 12th century. I'm even excited to trip on the cobblestones for the first time! Let's face it, I will trip at some point, I am my mother's daughter after all.

For the next four months, I plan to share all my experiences (the good, the bad, and the really ugly- I am an American in England after all) with you on this blog. Please stop by as often as you'd like and I'll be sure to update it regularly.

I'd love to stay and chat and tell you more, but I have a ten page paper due in a few days that I have yet to start and I must. I'll  be back soon with stories, so fear not!

"Isn't life funny?"

“Isn’t life funny?”

This is one of my all time, slap my knee in hysterics, favorite sayings ever; I equate it to hitting your “funny bone”…which it turns out folks isn’t funny at all.

Sometimes, yes, life is funny. It’s funny in the way that makes you laugh when you trip and fall in the hall way on the first day of high school in front of a math class full of senior water polo players…it is only years later that I can laugh about it (ok, realistically I was laughing the next day). After my scrapes and ego were healed, and my calculator fixed (it had after all sailed through the air in a way only one of my possessions could) I was able to laugh it off.

I have a birthday coming up in about a week, the big 2-1, and though I’m nowhere near the maturity level that comes with each passing birthday, I feel like I’ve been able to learn so much on this planet. One of the things that I’m struggling with lately is to just let life be funny. Take the joy in the little mishaps and know that it could actually be worse…I could still be going to school at San Francisco State…yikes!!

“Isn’t life funny?”

Whoever came up with this saying? I’d like to know so I could…how do I say this…punch them in the face. Every time I imagine the person that first said this little gem I think of Charlie Chaplin…. I have strange word associations sometimes (remind me to tell you how a meatball sandwich always makes me think of Saratoga…).

School is in full swing this semester, I have 18 units, and although I end class every day at 12:30 (except Fridays…which is part of the “isn’t life funny” bit…that’s another rant) I’m nonstop busy reading lovely books on History and Constitutional Law…that’s right folks! You thought I was a 20 something girl, but it turns out I sit in a chair in my sweaters, listen to Frank Sinatra and read history books…I am in fact my grandfather (love you Gramps!). And I want to, I need to learn how to be at peace with the phase of life I am in now, because when do I get the chance to dedicate my entire life to education; learning both the lessons of the classroom and of life? I’m working on it.

“Isn’t life funny?”

In the way that falling off a cliff anthill (I can’t have my imagination miserable all afternoon for committing imagination manslaughter) after missing the exit on the highway is funny? Then yes, life is funny. I have a dream, a vision really for how I’d like my life to work. I know only a small percentage of my plans will ultimately work out how I want them too, I am after all a mere human, but I have a new outlook.

Live more. Laugh more. And create more.

Live more freely. Live fully. Live simply.

Laugh boldly. Laugh loudly (ok…don’t be that person in the coffee shop laughing like you have to laugh to save your life). Laugh freely.

Create memories. Create pieces of art by writing and expression. Create good food! Most importantly, create l-o-v-e.

So my lovelies, it is my prayer for you to discover the simple pleasures of life.

I want nothing more that to read Hemingway in a wheat field right now...but alas...I'm stuck reading Constitutional Law in an apartment... isn't life funny??

Have you met Satan?

Peacefulness. When ever I am truly at peace (if there ever is such a time) my mind is on a constant loop of Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday, Romantic Period piano music, and many other strange tunes that a girl my age probably shouldn't know my societal norms. I feel a cool breeze; yet, that breeze has a soft warm touch that kisses my face and legs. Nothing is better than sitting outside, in a state of contentment; with a cup of tea at your side. Nothing. Even now, as I listen to my good buddy Frank, I feel this feeling of contentment.

Sighhhhhh..... Oh hang on, let me remove the ferocious beast that is currently trying to suck my life out through my ankle bones.

You would never suspect this face to be the spawn of Satan...
the Napoleon Bonaparte of Cats would you?

It is when I'm peaceful that my cat attacks. Oh Satan....I mean Dewey....when will you ever let me be?!

I don't know how many of you have had the privilege, yes it is a privilege, to meet Dewey ( I mean Satan); I'm not sure if you have if that is a good thing or if you should count yourself lucky if you haven't. You see....now how do I put this in the nicest, most polite way possible....Dewey is a little...poo poo head (I have decided to censor myself, because trust me, there are better adjectives out there to describe this special animal).

Satan is a confused animal. There is no way around it, he's actually very dumb. He does this thing with his head where it looks like he's trying to be another member of the Village People and learn the YMCA. I don't understand him. If Edward Cullen was a cat, he would be Satan Dewey. Let me explain. You see, even as I type this, he is standing in the corner looking down at his paws; trying to be soulful and brooding all at once. He believes this is his best pose. I think it's not. Dewey is like a french Edward Cullen. He's black and white (good and evil), but the evil side is represented in a larger quantity. I can't help but be the helpless (made even more helpless by Kristen Stewart's acting) Bella Swan around him-- I know he can destroy me, yet I still try to love him and have his love be returned. But he's cold and heartless. It's a sick, twisted, abusive relationship really.

Is that a bird? A plane??? no...it's just Dewey flying through the air to attack the Dog.

The Showdown between the small horse and Satan...

Dewey has no real fear. He's not afraid of me (which he demonstrates every day when he attacks-- I mean ATTACKS-- my toes and my thighs [I just choose to say he has a crush on me...someone's got to right?]) or the dog. Granted, our dog is probably the most feminine male dog you will ever lay eyes upon. I think Dewey is half squirrel...he flies through the air, leaps of furniture onto the back of the unsuspecting dog or human, with the greatest of ease.

Boxing match between the brother and Satan. Satan wins every time

The nerve of this animal. He is the rudest feline ever (that might be because he is part devil...) but this might be due in part to the fact that he is french. Did I not tell you? Dewey is French, my Dog is German...yes I've given my animals nationalities and I speak to them in their native tongues sometimes. Don't judge my awkward life. Anywho... Satan walks along the counters, looks in the eye of the nearest human, and pushes things off the counter. Rude right? Of the french...

Now that I've officially established myself in your mind as the crazy cat lady, I think I'll stop my awkward rant about my cat. But he is rude, and I needed to share with you my suffering.

My nametag Cup my mom got me

What? Don't you answer the door in a towel? Well...this is awkward..

Hectic. Crazy. Stressful. and a little bit...Awkward. These are surely the only words that can be used to describe my life (ok, I'll admit there are a few more words that can probably be used but let's not focus on that right now). This morning was an interesting start to my day, to say the very least. After I hopped out of the shower --keep this part in mind it's very important-- I was in my room...in my underwear (remember I just got out of the shower) I heard loud crashing in my hallway right outside my bedroom door.

Now....I feel the need to tell you about Satan. My Cat. Bear with me here to a quick sec. I'll get back to the story, keep your panties on. Satan Dewey is a loud and very destructive creature who is constantly knocking things off counters and off walls.

My dad has some golf dvd's on the ledge upstairs (yes...my dad is strange and has recorded golf tournaments from like the 50s to present day...don't judge) and I figured he had just knocked them all down the stairs. I was wrong.

So back to my story... As I was standing in my room-- remember I just got out of the shower-- the crashing noise kept going; I knew it wasn't Satan when I heard my mom yelling at me to call 911. I look out into the hall to see my little brother having a grand mal seizure. This was the hectic and crazy part of my day that I promised to explain earlier in the post. Now comes the awkward.

Remember when I said that I just got out of the shower? No?? Well let me refresh your memory... I just got out of the shower. Got it? Good. So I was standing there on the phone with the 911 operator when I realized...hmmm it's a bit drafty.

Ohhhhh.... this would be because I'm standing out in the hallway in my underwear.

As a young woman, let's just say I don't exactly wear old lady underwear. Sorry folks, I have no filter with you. Luckily I had enough sense to throw on a bath towel before I answered the door for the paramedics and the firefighters. Why is my life so awkward? And why was that firefighter so cute? Why was I in a towel with wet hair!? Dang bad timing...not that there is ever a good time for Jacob to have a seizure.

So anywho, the good news is that Jacob is fine. He was just being a terrible teenager and wasn't taking his seizure meds and that is what caused the seizure...someones in trouble....

On a happier note! My older brother Kyle came home (or straight to the hospital) today from Washington state on leave from the army. I'm so happy to have him home for the weekend, even if our first reunion was in the hospital. He brought home is small horse dog Duke who met my small dog chase and also Satan (who proceeded to tear apart my arm as he tried to flee from the small horse Duke). I look forward to an awkward free weekend, but know that probably won't happen. At least let this weekend be relaxing and not crazy please Lord!

The Small Horse...I mean Duke... Just ignore my face..I thought he
was going to knock me over

I hope you all have a great and lazy memorial day weekend! Remember those that have served, are serving, or will serve in the future in the military. On Monday tune in when I actually tell you all about Satan and how he got that nickname (my cat, not the actual Satan...).

This is chase....please ignore my face...I don't always look like a deranged killer

The reason why I'm sane

ahhhh summer. At least, my calendar says it's summer but apparently the weather wants to make me look like a fool. My body was confused yesterday morning when I stepped outside for my morning run and it was cloudy. I wish I could tell you it was no big thang...oh no, it was a big thang. It rained. I thought I was on Summer break from school?

Hang on, let me grab my microphone....WHAT HAPPENED TO SUMMER BREAK?!

It turned out fine, despite the soggy running shoes and having to shove my iphone in my pants to protect it from the rain* it was actually an enjoyable run...if runs could ever be called such things.

This morning was perhaps one of my favorite ways to spend summer break so far. My good friend (and future roommate) Alyssa came over to my house for a mid-morning walk and I made us breakfast (you can check out her super cute blog here ). I feel like summer would not be complete without good friends and good food (good fresh food might I add, not doughnuts). This summer I have already been up to Sacramento area once to see my good friends Emily and Megan; let me tell you, those girls are the reason-- or one of the reasons-- why I love my school. What is better than good friends? Answer: nothing.

Speaking of good friends, I said goodbye to my amazing friend Ian the other night. Justin Bieber...I mean Ian, is going on him mission to Malaysia for two years and let me tell you, those are some lucky people.

It's only two years, it's only two years, it's only two years....

I keep having to remind myself that it is only two years; but in all reality, a lot can happen in two years. With as fast as time flies (two years ago I was starting college) a lot can change. I know that I am a different person than I was two years ago, and I know that in two years when I'm turning 23 I will have grown so much more than I can even perceive. I know that Ian is a good friend, but I can't help but wonder...can a distance half a world away change us? I plan on doing my darnedest to not allow that to happen, but things change and that's not necessarily a bad thing. As it stand right now, I love all of my friends and will continue to love you all forever. Thank you for all the amazing times in the past and the times to come.




searching through my old pictures i stumbled across this one from high school. The look on my face is pure joy...this is why I love my friends



Ok. enough of my sob story. Tune in tomorrow when I tell you about Satan. I mean my cat Dewey. (yes, I am that crazy cat lady...deal with it!)

once upon a time, a strange naked boy came knocking...almost....

Have I ever shared with you the story of my encounter with the autistic child that ran into my house one afternoon? No??? Well, would you like to laugh today (I would hope the answer is yes or you may need to go to a psychologist... hang on, I think I have a card somewhere in my wallet....)?? 

So there I was, sitting in the most comfortable chair in the house, watching tv with my little brother. My dad had just announced that he was going to take a nap (a regular afternoon occurrence in my house...give him a break, he's an old firefighter). As I was just about the hit that perfect moment when you're watching tv and your body just gels into the furniture the front door creaks open.

"mom?"- Me (she was supposed to be at work, but I thought that maybe she was coming home for lunch)

Nothing, there was no answer but the door swung open wider and next thing I know, a little child's head pops into the door.

My reaction you ask?

"ummmm....hello?? Can I help you?" clearly I don't know how to talk to children, I just treat them like strange adults.

At that point, the child took my questioning as a signal to run completely into the front room of my house. 

My thought process you ask again? Let me tell you...

Ok, who is this child that ran into my house? Is he on fire? No... Bleeding? Nooo... Why is his mouth dark blue? Oh wait..... he is butt naked!! 

That's right folks, this child that ran into my house was as naked as a jay bird! This 10 year old boy who I had never seen before was bearing more than I ever cared to see from a stranger. At this point, since he clearly was more interested in running around my front room than listening to me, I took my cat and ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I was only looking out for the safety of my cat, I didn't want her to escape after all. Nooooo, get that idea out of your head. I didn't lock myself in the bathroom because children scare me, especially naked children, where did you get this idea?

Keep in mind, at this point in the story my dad is sleeping in his bedroom. As my dad tells it, the child ran into his bedroom and started banging on his tv. Awaken by the sounds of tiny fists banging on a hard surface, my poor father wakes up in a confused state only to find a naked child in his room. A foreign nude child. What does one make of this situation in a haze of sleepiness? I'll tell you what one makes of this...they chase after it  (the child is the it, if you didn't take notice).

So there's my dad, running after a nude child. 

Rewind.... I feel there is something you must know about my father... I probably shouldn't tell you, but for the sake of artistic accuracy, I feel I must.... he sleeps in his underwear sometimes, and this was one of those times. (I feel like I should tell you that I feel slightly awkward writing that out as he is sitting right next to me at the table while I type this....sorry pops!)

Anywho, back to the story. So my dad is chasing this small, nude child around the room when it dawns on him: (I'll take artistic liberty here as I can't remember the exact wording of his thoughts) "I'm in my underwear, chasing around a small, naked child that I don't know...this doesn't look good. Where are my pants?!"

So after he puts pants on, and finally is able to wrangle up the strange child, he takes him outside where the neighbor of this child is looking for him. He apparently lived a street down and she saw him roaming the streets...naked as a jay bird. 

What really gets me is that I have to wonder what my little brother was doing this whole time? I feel like, and I speak from experience as his older sister, that he was still sitting on the couch throughout this whole ordeal, mesmerized by the television. 

So there my lovelies is another glimpse into my awkward life. I feel as though I could honestly write a book about all the strange and bizarre things that have happened to me.