I am...

quite frankly, a shit blogger.

I forget about this thing despite my mother frequently reminding me on my facebook.

I also forget how much of my family reads this thing. So, yeah. Language. Sorry.

Hmm -- what's been on? I am headed to Dublin in about an hour, should be exciting -- new accents, fabulous.

I have a cheerleading competition in a week. Hooray.

Oxford term is over, so we're in our self-contained course now. Oxford term being over means essentially everyone is gone, which I dislike.

I only have three weeks left for now, and while seeing my family will be lovely, I really wish I could stay for the summer term. There are balls, and renting boats and floating down the Thames drinking Pimms & Lemonade (Sprite), and Summer Eights (rowing) and all sorts of fantastic things. I checked to see how much it would cost to push back my flight home, but I'm guessing I cannot talk anyone into paying the $300 for me to push my flight back and then give me money for necessities, like alcohol. I mean food. Food. (Dear family: that was a joke. Please do not slaughter me or send me to rehab. I need neither.)

Looking further into graduate study -- I believe I will apply to Oxford for English, History and Women's Studies (Augh, such feminist connotations. But it would be a good entrance into a Phd/D.Phil in history or english with an emphasis on women -- particularly women in the Tudor era.) and then University College London for Publishing.

Essentially, I am planning to just stay in school forever. Unless I can find someone to pay me for existing.

Ack!

My apologies for the relative silence -- sometimes it feels like everything is so day in, day out that there is no sense in posting, and others I just get caught up in it all and neglect my blog.

I went to London for the first time this weekend, and I am, quite frankly, obsessed. I have never thought of myself as someone who would be happy living in a huge city, but I find London to be utterly exhilarating.

I am simply ready for my life to begin -- it seems we, as humans, always get this way when we're on the cusp of a major life change. I remember regarding college as "my life beginning." I suppose what I'm looking forward to is simply more college for the moment, but regardless. I would love to skip this next year and just move to London with Erin now. In reality, I'd like to skip all the scary logistical pain-in-the-ass aspects of moving to London and just get there. But there are graduate schools and scholarships to be applied for, loans to be taken out, visas to be obtained, flats to be rented -- blah. The idea of being (somewhat, hopefully pretty please not until I'm out of graduate school) financially independent is TERRIFYING. But I've come to realise it's coming sooner than I'd like, so I'm making some attempt at managing my money like a big kid.

I even made an excel spreadsheet! If that's not adult, I don't know what is.

Bit (okay much) Better Mood

So, this will be a short post, as it hurts to exist at the moment.

But, I am thrilled to be back into the world of cheerleading -- granted, on the other side of the Atlantic, but fantastic nonetheless.

I'll tell you though, hurling my legs up to my head was a lot easier forty pounds ago -- yikes.

I'm certainly a touch rusty, but cheerleading isn't quite at the same level here as it is in the America -- it's certainly still badass of course, but it hasn't quite reached the level of American cheerleading. I have to learn how to do a "splat," which I'd never heard of, but it's essentially a front tuck where you land on your behind. So I still have to throw my own feet over my head, which has never been my favourite activity -- I much prefer throwing someone else's feet over my head. But I obviously get to do that too.

Which, I believe at the moment my body has grown new muscles so they can hurt.

But I have such an adrenaline rush from it all. They also have socials, so I'm going out with a group of Oxford Sirens this evening.

Quite quite exciting in general!

I likely should not be writing a blog at the moment, as it likely will not be witty and therefore terribly dull.

But, I feel like writing a blog, so write I shall.

Upon leaving to study abroad, I was told over and over it would absolutely change my life. I kind of ignored everyone, figuring that there is no way it could have that profound of an effect on me -- I've moved every three years to a new place my entire life, I've experienced quite a bit, the simple act of living in a different culture for a few months wasn't going to have any profound life changing effect.

But it has. Coming over her has opened my eyes to so many different possibilities I feel as if I need to take advantage of, lest I feel I haven't truly lived my life and lived it to my full potential. Unfortunately, the trajectory my life was on wasn't exactly one which would allow me to take advantage of a lot of these opportunities.

So, I had to make some changes. And those changes sucked, continue to suck, and will probably continue sucking for quite some time.

Those changes opened up limitless possibilities, but brought with them anxiety and fear and hurt. For all the new opportunities opened, they are other opportunities that were closed.

I am trying to redefine myself, as, just that, myself. Myself/period/blank space.

I suppose growing pains don't stop when you physically stop growing.

Misadventures, and perfume!

Alright, my apologies for the silence.

So. The nose misadventure.

Roughly a week ago, I was horseplaying with one of the people in the programme. After getting a few respective jabs in, I wound up with my hand pinned behind my back and was informed I was now helpless. I, of course, disagreed, and informed them that if I so pleased, I was more than able to utilize the rather pointed heels I was wearing. Upon hearing this, I was tossed away, at which point I fell and decided the best solution would be to catch myself on a chair using my face.

For the record, that was not the best solution.

After bleeding profusely, it was decided that the general swelling and cuts on my nose warranted a trip to A&E (Accident & Emergency, otherwise the Emergency room). Ruth (the Junior Dean, essentially and RA) and Nora (my former roommate) took the always-pricey black cab in order to get there, which should have been my first hint it was NOT WITHIN WALKING DISTANCE (more on this later).

So we get there, get all checked and sorted, and commenced in debating the heroes in Austen's novels until the nurse called me back to take my vitals and attempted to stave the bleeding. I asked how often he saw stupid injuries such as my own from students who are supposed to be some of the best in the world. He laughed and said he didn't want to comment, but was well versed.

So I was sent back out to wait for the doctor, at which point Monty Python's "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" came up in the conversation. Of course, we all begin singing it (Lest this seem too strange, the only other person in A&E was a tramp escaping the cold), until Nora points out one cannot sing such a song without performing a kickline. So, of course we began to perform a seated kickline.

At which point the doctor comes out to retrieve me.

I suppose this could be made worse if he were, say, Dr. McDreamy, but she was... a she. I was surprised by how young she was though, I later found out from a friend studying medicine it doesn't take nearly as long to become a doctor here as in the states. Granted, it doesn't take as long to get any degree, as they largely eschew general education requirements and allow you to focus on the subject at hand. Which makes no sense at all. None. Not a bit. cough AMERICAN UNIVERSITIES GET ON THAT cough.

Anyways, at this point I was growing quite panicky over having a malformed nose, and expressed such fears to the doctor. She informed me she had rugby men that "did this to themselves every other week" and she always "got them set to right." I informed her that she could send said rugby boys my way after their treatment, and let them know I could sympathise. (She laughed, she didn't think I was creepy. Thankfully.) The way she said that I was still quite young after looking at my chart seemed to have a bit of the sentiment that this was a bad time for this to happen to me, as I had yet to snatch a husband or something of the sort.

Anyways, they then paper-stitched me and informed me, oh, the only care I have to take of it will be not to get the stitches wet for a week. Simple task, being that they're IN THE MIDDLE OF MY FACE. Thank God CMRS has those removable showerhead things, otherwise I may have gone unwashed for a week and no one wants that. Anyways, they told me ENT would be in contact and sent me well on my merry way to sleep.

But not to sleep. Because we decided chips & cheese were warranted after our ordeal. So I went up to the Kebab Van, bleeding, at three in the morning. They kept handing my napkins -- I'm not sure if it was more kindness or their hearts or more don't bleed on my damn van.

Anyways, fast forward a week (in which I received lots of stares and a free margarita for my pains) to Monday, when I had to return to John Radcliffe Hospital to meet with the ENT doctor. I knew the hospital was in Headington, and that Headington Road was a five minute walk away. So I glanced at where on Headington the JR sits, plotted my route, and then Tess and I ventured out, forty-five minutes early so that we would have plenty on time should we get turned about somehow or cannot find the office in the hospital.

People, let this be a lesson. THAT MAP KEY SITS THERE FOR A REASON. Because otherwise, you come home going "My God, why the hell did it look so close? I trekked for over an hour over three miles. That is not walking distance at -1 degrees (C, of course) and 9:30 in the morning. Upon hearing that Tess and I WALKED to the JR, there a collective cringe.

However, the doctor informed me that there is some swelling left, and despite there being a "slight step" there was really nothing for them to do, as the point my nose is at now would be considered a successful outcome of the procedure they would have done, which would have been putting me under and "manually manipulating my nose" (slamming it back into place with their hands). So, in not so many words, they told me that I should be happy with my nose considering I had slammed it into a chair, and stop being such a vain little git. Hopefully the little bump that's left will disappear soon.

So that has been my current excitement. Oh, and today I purchased rose scented perfume in the prettiest bottle from my favourite boutique ever, Aspire (click the link to go to their online shop! Not near as gorgeous/delightful/fantastic as their actual store, but you can get the general idea.) Last week, I got the flower off this necklace as a ring. (The other two link to the products I purchased.)

The perfume is Cath Kidston, and I highly advise you take a glance about her website, everything is gorgeous -- for you sewers/quilters, there is even an extensive variety of BEAUTIFUL floral fabrics that are fun and floral without seeming too old.)

Marrrr.

New blog forthcoming.

Nose is broken and I am generally ouchy and a bit cranky.

Grade

I received my first grade today, a B+. My tutor also said my essay I turned in today was much better than the one I got back. Hoorah.