Day of revelry:
Tower of London
High Tea at Harrod's
Other revelries
(Sunshine again?!)
...I will report back.
xoxo, D
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I don't want to be a Hallmark card/Lifetime channel voice/anything of that sort.
So I'm in London studying abroad. Most of you probably know this, but this was not my first choice. Last April, when we were registering for classes, I decided I would take Intensive Intermediate French at 8am Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, so that when I studied abroad in PARIS I would be at a good level of French. (I could have taken the class at 2pm, but then I wouldn't have been able to have an internship, also unacceptable.) Once I arrived in Paris, though, I was sure I would have an opportunity to really extend my knowledge because I'd be done with the required levels, and I might even pick up a French minor when all was said and done.
I didn't get into the Paris program. There were 75 more applicants than spots, so juniors got priority over sophomores. I found out sitting in the 9th floor of the library doing homework. Not ideal.
Because of the fact that I don't like not having a general idea of where I'm headed (especially when it concerns what continent/country I'll be in living in for a semester), when offered to transfer my application to another NYU location that would notify me about my acceptable (or not) by the end of the week, I made up my mind quickly. Multiple factors made Spring 2010 the best semester for me to be abroad, and some other various things made me switch my application to London rather than Prague, Ghana, Florence, etc.
By Friday of that week I had been accepted into the NYU London program. Happiness ensued.
During the disappointing Tuesday I was trying to figure out how to pick up the shambles of my life post-Parisian denial, my mom told me something that, well, is just play true. She said, "Dorothy, I don't understand why there's always such hiccups in your life."
Mom, I don't get it either, but apparently I have chronic life hiccups (hence my continuous string of failures). Often it seems that the grand plans I make seem to fall through. What I predict never happens. What I play and apply for early doesn't work out. Things inevitably change, resulting in my finding myself in very strange experiences (like the elevator this morning...uno! ooh! no!). As much as the hiccups continuously persist, I would be lying to say that things don't usually end up working out.
I wind up in a program better for me, one that might get me ahead so I can get an accelerated Master's degree. A better opportunity arises that I never saw coming. So despite the awkward sting of encounters and bizarre twists my life-plot takes, I trust that in the end it will be a comedy, appropriately ending in the manner which people have enjoyed since the days the first Queen Elizabeth was ruling over what's now the UK, with marriage and a bit with a dog (or cat in my personal case).
So as the streets of Islington clear for the evening, I send my sincerest hopes to all ya'll. I hope that you, too, keep some romanticism and trust in the Good. Yeah things get twisted and morbid, but that's no need to twist something as happy as Twelfth Night into a sad tale of poor, old Malvolio's misuse and destruction of traditional sexual paradigms.
Let the hiccups roll and wash you up on an unfamiliar beach. In mustering up a haphazard plan to disguise yourself and survive, you might discover the best thing ever.
xoxo & etc.
D
I didn't get into the Paris program. There were 75 more applicants than spots, so juniors got priority over sophomores. I found out sitting in the 9th floor of the library doing homework. Not ideal.
Because of the fact that I don't like not having a general idea of where I'm headed (especially when it concerns what continent/country I'll be in living in for a semester), when offered to transfer my application to another NYU location that would notify me about my acceptable (or not) by the end of the week, I made up my mind quickly. Multiple factors made Spring 2010 the best semester for me to be abroad, and some other various things made me switch my application to London rather than Prague, Ghana, Florence, etc.
By Friday of that week I had been accepted into the NYU London program. Happiness ensued.
During the disappointing Tuesday I was trying to figure out how to pick up the shambles of my life post-Parisian denial, my mom told me something that, well, is just play true. She said, "Dorothy, I don't understand why there's always such hiccups in your life."
Mom, I don't get it either, but apparently I have chronic life hiccups (hence my continuous string of failures). Often it seems that the grand plans I make seem to fall through. What I predict never happens. What I play and apply for early doesn't work out. Things inevitably change, resulting in my finding myself in very strange experiences (like the elevator this morning...uno! ooh! no!). As much as the hiccups continuously persist, I would be lying to say that things don't usually end up working out.
I wind up in a program better for me, one that might get me ahead so I can get an accelerated Master's degree. A better opportunity arises that I never saw coming. So despite the awkward sting of encounters and bizarre twists my life-plot takes, I trust that in the end it will be a comedy, appropriately ending in the manner which people have enjoyed since the days the first Queen Elizabeth was ruling over what's now the UK, with marriage and a bit with a dog (or cat in my personal case).
So as the streets of Islington clear for the evening, I send my sincerest hopes to all ya'll. I hope that you, too, keep some romanticism and trust in the Good. Yeah things get twisted and morbid, but that's no need to twist something as happy as Twelfth Night into a sad tale of poor, old Malvolio's misuse and destruction of traditional sexual paradigms.
Let the hiccups roll and wash you up on an unfamiliar beach. In mustering up a haphazard plan to disguise yourself and survive, you might discover the best thing ever.
xoxo & etc.
D
I plan things too far in advance.
I know this isn't for a few weeks still, but I think I should just get this out know. Here goes (It's short and sweet-ish because I just got home from a wonderful performance of Twelfth Night and have lots of reading, as usual. =) )
Dear couples of London,
Please keep all obnoxious public displays of affection IN PRIVATE. Those of us who are sadly not in the blissful love-drunk phase of life that you find yourselves in would rather not watch you *snog* on our way home on the *tube.* It is just unnecessary. Please keep it especially low key in the fast-approaching dooms day that will make Hallmark and other card companies millions more dollars.
Furthermore, men of London, stop dating down. (I don't mean to me rude or judgmental or racist-?-here.) You are all too good looking to be dating British girls who look like old librarians, or, even worse, trashy hipsters. This too is completely and utterly unnecessary. I know it's slim pickings over here, but stop selling yourself short.
That is all, folks.
(I got to Skype my little brother and mom today! It was as awesome as Tesco pasta!-Yeah, that's right.)
xoxo & all that is good,
D
Dear couples of London,
Please keep all obnoxious public displays of affection IN PRIVATE. Those of us who are sadly not in the blissful love-drunk phase of life that you find yourselves in would rather not watch you *snog* on our way home on the *tube.* It is just unnecessary. Please keep it especially low key in the fast-approaching dooms day that will make Hallmark and other card companies millions more dollars.
Furthermore, men of London, stop dating down. (I don't mean to me rude or judgmental or racist-?-here.) You are all too good looking to be dating British girls who look like old librarians, or, even worse, trashy hipsters. This too is completely and utterly unnecessary. I know it's slim pickings over here, but stop selling yourself short.
That is all, folks.
(I got to Skype my little brother and mom today! It was as awesome as Tesco pasta!-Yeah, that's right.)
xoxo & all that is good,
D
Monday, January 25, 2010
At least I earned my pear puff today.
If I could only eat one more thing for the rest of my life, it might be the pear puffs served at a pastry shop by University of London. ￡1.50 gets you the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. I can only imagine what their gorgeous cakes look like. (Good thing we'll find out when our small "crew"- we deserve such a title -celebrates mid-semester birthdays. Even better that any pseudo-excuse will do to get us to buy cake.)
At least I earned the pastry today. I walked from Nido to St. Paul's, to Christopher Wren's Great Fire of London monument, up the 311 steps to the top of the monument, back down the steps, down to the Thames River walk, to Victoria Embankment, to campus, through the British Museum (again), back to campus, back to Nido. A pear puff was well deserved, though the view from the top of the monument was reward enough (especially considering that the walk up/down costs more than the pear puff, but only by 50p).
Built by Chris between 1671 and 1677. The stairs wind up the small column.
1/3 of the way up. (Kinda like the trek to the crown of the Statue of Liberty, huh guys?)
My favorite view from the top, mostly because it features Tower Bridge, the object of my latest obbession. Note to any man who will ever propose to a girl: South bank boardwalk, at night when the cute lanterns are on - and I saw "lantern" rather than "light" because the word is just cuter - and you two are standing understand the Tower Bridge . . . you should ask there. No ballpark scoreboards, completely tacky. Do it there, you'll get a yes.)
I listed all the walking out to make it seem long and tiring. It was, don't get me wrong. But I can't express how much I love walking here. One of my friends said I was super productive for strolling all day, but I think just the opposite. There's nothing like walking in solitude when you just want to daydream and soak up everything that surrounds you.
Walking here is different than in New York. Maybe the added sublimity and surreal atmosphere the streets have here is only because they're new and different. (I could be saying they're rotten and annoying by May, I doubt I will though.) The streets wind about and my feet just go for literally hours upon end (no iPod background music necessary!). I try to imagine who else and what characters have shared these streets with me. Evelina, the leading female in one book I'm reading, was just told about the beauty of Wren's monument in the chapter I read last night! Don't even get me started about seeing the Globe from across the river. You can stand on a suspension bridge built to celebrate 2000, look across the Thames, and there it is! The mecca of all Literature dorks! To make things even cool, though, it sits right under the TATE MODERN (my adventure for NEXT Monday). Talk about living in history.
Enough romanticizing for one evening. I'm off to read, read, read, read. (That's what you get my procrastinating and watching Grey's Anatomy, for it, like a late-night quarter-pounder with cheese, is just as satisfying here as across the pond.)
xoxo, D
At least I earned the pastry today. I walked from Nido to St. Paul's, to Christopher Wren's Great Fire of London monument, up the 311 steps to the top of the monument, back down the steps, down to the Thames River walk, to Victoria Embankment, to campus, through the British Museum (again), back to campus, back to Nido. A pear puff was well deserved, though the view from the top of the monument was reward enough (especially considering that the walk up/down costs more than the pear puff, but only by 50p).
Built by Chris between 1671 and 1677. The stairs wind up the small column.
1/3 of the way up. (Kinda like the trek to the crown of the Statue of Liberty, huh guys?)
My favorite view from the top, mostly because it features Tower Bridge, the object of my latest obbession. Note to any man who will ever propose to a girl: South bank boardwalk, at night when the cute lanterns are on - and I saw "lantern" rather than "light" because the word is just cuter - and you two are standing understand the Tower Bridge . . . you should ask there. No ballpark scoreboards, completely tacky. Do it there, you'll get a yes.)
I listed all the walking out to make it seem long and tiring. It was, don't get me wrong. But I can't express how much I love walking here. One of my friends said I was super productive for strolling all day, but I think just the opposite. There's nothing like walking in solitude when you just want to daydream and soak up everything that surrounds you.
Walking here is different than in New York. Maybe the added sublimity and surreal atmosphere the streets have here is only because they're new and different. (I could be saying they're rotten and annoying by May, I doubt I will though.) The streets wind about and my feet just go for literally hours upon end (no iPod background music necessary!). I try to imagine who else and what characters have shared these streets with me. Evelina, the leading female in one book I'm reading, was just told about the beauty of Wren's monument in the chapter I read last night! Don't even get me started about seeing the Globe from across the river. You can stand on a suspension bridge built to celebrate 2000, look across the Thames, and there it is! The mecca of all Literature dorks! To make things even cool, though, it sits right under the TATE MODERN (my adventure for NEXT Monday). Talk about living in history.
Enough romanticizing for one evening. I'm off to read, read, read, read. (That's what you get my procrastinating and watching Grey's Anatomy, for it, like a late-night quarter-pounder with cheese, is just as satisfying here as across the pond.)
xoxo, D
Sunday, January 24, 2010
I didn't leave Nido.
I haven't left my apartment building today. I'm not proud.
Lots of reading got done, though. As did a date with a treadmill, the get-together was desperately needed after a late-night trip to McDonald's last night. I must confess, it was just as delicious here as it is in the states.
This week, I am sure, will prove to be equally entertaining.
I recommend the solitude of treadmills and books and BBC.com to anyone, though. (I learned BBC.com features Greek. Hurrah!)
xoxo, D
Lots of reading got done, though. As did a date with a treadmill, the get-together was desperately needed after a late-night trip to McDonald's last night. I must confess, it was just as delicious here as it is in the states.
This week, I am sure, will prove to be equally entertaining.
I recommend the solitude of treadmills and books and BBC.com to anyone, though. (I learned BBC.com features Greek. Hurrah!)
xoxo, D
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Stephen, why don't you call me in 3 part harmony?
Sorry Jared. It was a brief introduction.
Due to DJ Tyler's failure at life, my friends and I will be reuniting with our dear pal DJ Mark this evening. My only comment on this event to come is that it shall be glorious. And there will be a party in the U-u-K for sure.
Because let's face it, I spent my entire Friday night and Saturday day reading. I will be dancing tonight.
A note regarding dancing:
I'm currently reading an eighteenth century novel for class and they do a lot of dancing in it as well. I must admit, though, the rules have changed. Boys, don't dance if you can't. I know this harsh, but nobody wants to see that. Men, dinosaurs if you will, don't either. You had fun, now please exit and go to the York. I promise you will find a much more inviting audience.
All that being said. I must continue reading for a few hours so I can fully enjoy the revelries to come.
Peace & cheers and Fish & chips,
D
Due to DJ Tyler's failure at life, my friends and I will be reuniting with our dear pal DJ Mark this evening. My only comment on this event to come is that it shall be glorious. And there will be a party in the U-u-K for sure.
Because let's face it, I spent my entire Friday night and Saturday day reading. I will be dancing tonight.
A note regarding dancing:
I'm currently reading an eighteenth century novel for class and they do a lot of dancing in it as well. I must admit, though, the rules have changed. Boys, don't dance if you can't. I know this harsh, but nobody wants to see that. Men, dinosaurs if you will, don't either. You had fun, now please exit and go to the York. I promise you will find a much more inviting audience.
All that being said. I must continue reading for a few hours so I can fully enjoy the revelries to come.
Peace & cheers and Fish & chips,
D
"So to Greenwich I go."
There’s something relaxing about a guided tour. You can just let your feet wander and listen, maybe your mind wanders a bit too. You are immersed in the sights and atmosphere you’re seeing, but a part of you is free to both observe and explore thoughts as well.
Such was the case in Greenwich.
After getting off the boat, I wandered through green squares that great dramas unfolded in (namely those concerning Anne Boleyn and a certain May Day joust). I stood in two hemispheres of the world at once. I ate fish and chips in a pub Charles Dickens used to frequent. I walked through halls where students of the Royal Academy learned how to be gentlemen. I frolicked through an old outdoor space shouting Americanisms, mostly to do with the KeSha obsession plaguing my friends and I. I scavenged for Tudor pots on the Thames riverside.
I did not, however, have coffee. String cut - end scene.
Despite rain and the predictable java disappointment, it was a lovely day. I throughly approve of Greenwich. It’s worth the hype.
I also did a lot of homework. AND LAUNDRY! (Though the confusing UK machine took my money at first. Don’t worry mom, reimbursement is on the way.) I met a man named Dr. Who, too. He's dreamy. Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be gray (big surprise there) & I will spend my day in Senate House Library.
Adieu, xoxo & Cheers.
D
(Again - I apologize for any days lacking posts.)
Such was the case in Greenwich.
After getting off the boat, I wandered through green squares that great dramas unfolded in (namely those concerning Anne Boleyn and a certain May Day joust). I stood in two hemispheres of the world at once. I ate fish and chips in a pub Charles Dickens used to frequent. I walked through halls where students of the Royal Academy learned how to be gentlemen. I frolicked through an old outdoor space shouting Americanisms, mostly to do with the KeSha obsession plaguing my friends and I. I scavenged for Tudor pots on the Thames riverside.
I did not, however, have coffee. String cut - end scene.
Despite rain and the predictable java disappointment, it was a lovely day. I throughly approve of Greenwich. It’s worth the hype.
I also did a lot of homework. AND LAUNDRY! (Though the confusing UK machine took my money at first. Don’t worry mom, reimbursement is on the way.) I met a man named Dr. Who, too. He's dreamy. Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be gray (big surprise there) & I will spend my day in Senate House Library.
Adieu, xoxo & Cheers.
D
(Again - I apologize for any days lacking posts.)
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