The Art of Feng Shui

So mainly what has happened between my last post and this post is EVEN MORE SNOW. And when I say even more snow I mean literally 2 feet of snow. Sadly I did not take any pictures of the monstrous snow because I was too busy frolicking in it. We went on a hike, well ok maybe a glorified walk, but still in a LOT of snow and we even went off campus. On the way back we trudged through a huge field of snow which no one had crossed before and it was above our knees and it was AMAZING! Apparently this is what is called a "Nor'easter" and it's going to happen AGAIN THIS WINTER! I will try to remember to take pictures next time. 

Anyway in an attempt not to make this a whole month of posts about snow, I am going to talk about my recent forages into interior design. Well actually, when I say "my recent forages into interior design" what I really mean is, I decided that having my desk by my window where there is a draft the size of a breeze, was not going to be good for my productivity. Also I was getting frustrated by the challenges associated with opening and closing my window over the top of my desk. Small things make all the difference you know. Anyway, so I decided to make changes, but being almost entirely spatially un-aware i had to call in the cavalry, in the form of my much more spatially aware friend. 

I'm pretty pleased with the result, and the vast majority of my friends were similarly impressed by the dramatic changes hauling some furniture around a teeny tiny room can make. I even have a little tea corner, and my room has become drastically more tidy because everything is more open and so the mess notices more because you can't hide it in corners. The only slight downside is I can't sit in bed propped up against the wall anymore because neither ends of my bed are against a wall, but i can sit sideways in bed, and hopefully this will encourage me to actually work at my desk, which will be an exciting change in my life. 

This room rearranging happened while I was supposed to be writing my last final paper from last semester, which I didn't manage to complete on account of my body's rebellion. (Just on an aside, I finished it! I'm finally free of finals! Yippee!) So clearly it made a great deal of sense to do some research on the possible implications of the move on the energy within the room.

It's actually pretty easy, you use a handy dandy mapping type grid like this one:

(which, co-incidentaly I found at this website : http://www.designingonline.com/home_decorating_articles/feng-shui-decorating-tips-bedroom.html which has some tips for if you're actually feng shui-ing your room.)


Anyway, so the basic analysis of my room shows the following trends in energy, which range from fairly satisfactory, to down right bizarre. My romance corner has been blocked off by my chest of drawers, my desk is in my creativity area, and my knowledge and spirituality are locked firmly in the closet. My bed is in my wealth area, I'm not sure what this says about anything, but I do know this has become a running joke among my friends. I haven't really kept to the colours either, since everything in my entire room is turquoise. 


It's nearly the end of J-term, I have my last J-term classes tomorrow, and then I start again with actual classes that mean things the following Wednesday. It's weird to think that I'm over half-way through my all-American experience already!

I'm dreaming of a white... erm... January 9th?

The snow finally came to Mount Holyoke last night. It was actually pretty amazing. The snow came, and then when I got up this morning paths had been all cleared in the snow and everything is running as normal. Literally. Nobody stopped driving, busses are still going, and we had food as usual. If only England was so efficient in times of adverse weather. Well actually, I quite like getting a week off every time we have snow. Also there is a great deal less childish excitement about snow in general. Which is kinda sad. I think the most obvious sign of this is the fact that with the advent of snow there was not the mass facebook hysteria which would have ensued in England. Most people's profile pictures have remained largely snow free. Statuses continue as if nothing had changed. It's kinda a little sad. 

Luckily I managed to find several people who would indulge my childish adoration of snow and sledging. Which meant I got to trial the tray which I borrowed from the dining hall all those months ago in preparation for such an eventuality. I donned my ski jacket, fastened the snow skirt, put on my wellies and ventured out into the snow. After some practice I became very efficient at the sitting on the tray and sliding method of sledging, but one of my more enterprising friends decided it was necessary to test the face first approach. Being the gentleman I am I let her try this first. It was a disaster. However, I was undeterred. Transpires the art of face-first-tray-sledding is all about your position on the tray. The trick is to get the tray low enough on your boobs that all of your groin is on the tray and then you have the leverage to pick your legs off the ground while keeping pressure on the back of the tray; it's scientific. 

I also spent a great deal of time skidding around on the ice on the lake in my wellies. Literally hours. It's surprisingly fun, and almost as good as in actual skates, with the added advantage of being less likely to fall over and look like a fool. There's a section of ice which has been cleared for skating and there's edging type things around it. I guess on monday someone might come and clear it again. To be honest I was just excited to be walking on a lake. Which was when it was decided that we should walk across the lake towards the waterfall. I have to admit it did not feel hugely safe. At all. But it was very exciting to be walking along in the snow where there should be water. And the snow was all clean and fresh and pretty. And crunchy. There's something very satisfying about being the first person to go crunching through some snow. Particularly when that snow is on a lake. I wonder if the snow which is currently falling will cover up the tracks we made into the middle of the lake or not. 

Also today we went to see Tangled. Which is adorable. It was a really funny, really cute, really lovely movie. I went with a bunch of girls who I don't really know all that well, girls from various classes I was in last semester and friends of friends, who are all in one friendship group together and then I guess I somehow managed to infiltrate. Anyway they were just the right level of dorky where you quote lines of the movie back at each other. And make jokes about how the protagonists head was larger then her waist, and in fact how her eyes were larger than her waist. It's films like this though which give young girls unrealistic expectations of romance. That and the story a friend told me over dinner about her parents meeting while getting on/off a lift at the same time, and then falling in love. Which suggests that this kind of thing actually happens in real life. Although I remain largely unconvinced. 

Talking of things I am unconvinced about, one of the previews before Tangled was for a film called "Gnomio and Juliet". Yeah. An animated version of Shakespeare's romantic tragedy featuring a cast of garden gnomes. And whilst I don't doubt the ability of animated garden gnomes to carry the full weight of a Shakespeare character, I do doubt Disney's ability to, well, deliver the ending. It is a very sad ending. Everyone dies. There is a double suicide. There is not really much in the way of happily ever after. Disney is pretty much known for its happy endings. What would be the point of a Disney movie which did not have a happy ending? Romeo and Juliet just isn't really a family friendly plot line. I really can't see it. Which means, clearly, that I'm going to have to see it when it comes out. Because I'm so confused as to how they are going to make this work. And I hate to tell you this Disney but either way I'm going to be angry. Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending is not ok. However, Disney movies without a happy ending is equally not ok. 

Right now I should be finishing up my 10 page paper on constructions of childhood. Clearly I am not. I will have to finish it tomorrow though, because it's due on Monday. I'm really excited to be rid of the paper. Because then I will feel more free to do other things. Other things I need to do include practice clarinet, and send emails, and figure out what I'm going to do with my life this summer. Also spend more time hanging out with friends rather than sitting in my room pretending to be writing essays while actually procrastinating on the internet by writing super long blog posts about my day. Well. I spend a fair amount of time with my friends. It would just be nice to not feel bad about it all the time. Like I shouldn't be having fun and should be writing papers. I like having fun. Ok. I'm going to go write some essay and then sleep and then write more essay, and so on until the essay is done. 

Fairly Superstitious

I travel by myself a lot; to and from uni, camp, Mount Holyoke, miscellaneous other adventures, it's all fairly standard. However, as the Sherpa's pointed out when I was in Nepal, the travel spirits are against me. It's true. I don't technically believe in travel spirits, but I have to concede that given the overwhelming evidence, it is clear that the travel spirits, whatever they may be, are indeed against me. What it basically boils down to is that while I attempt to get from A to B, just about everything possible happens to try to make my life harder, without actually preventing me getting to B, although I do usually go via Z and I have to do my thing where I look like I'm about to burst into tears, to prevent me from getting into trouble/get me onto busses where there were previously no seats. Sometimes being female has distinct advantages. I don't think blokes could get away with this practice. 

For these reasons travelling involves a lot of mental preparations (i.e. thinking mainly about the fact that I always get to my final destination, rather than about the fact that everything is likely to go wrong on the way to my final destination) also I have to bring a variety of lucky charms. I like to wear my lucky socks. I also have a travelling Buddha, and a St Anthony statue, and special traveling beads (I like to cover all my bases; it pays to be safe rather than sorry.) However, I have lost my lucky socks, I left St Anthony and Buddha in America, and I didn't think to wear my travelling beads. Generally I am not a superstitious person, so I set out blithely positive about my upcoming travels; I had a suitcase full of snacks from home and Christmas presents, a smile on my face and brain full of excited plans for J-term. And in this excitable state I sallied forth into the wide world. 

It all started out very well; I packed exactly 23 kilos of luggage, perfectly within the baggage limit, I sailed through the empty airport, perfectly content. It all went a little funny when I got picked out to have my hand luggage checked at the airport. But I tend to look suspicious for unknown reasons at airports, so I thought nothing of it. I got on the plane, and found I was sat next to a very very very tall German bloke. Which wasn't ideal because it meant we were vying for the extra couple of centimetres of knee space between the seats. What made it worse was that the lady in front of me, who was not the smallest lady in the world, put her seat all the way back so it was in my face, and promptly fell asleep and started snoring. Loudly.  To add insult to injury my seat wasn't functioning properly so I couldn't recline either. Great. Then there was turbulence, and I got travel sick, and couldn't eat the food they gave me. Needless to say when I got to Boston I was a very happy bunny and bounded off the plane and through customs. I love American customs; they're always so happy and friendly and nice, I know this is not the average experience, I like to think they're nice to me because they're not used to being faced with nearly 6ft of excitable British girl. This is my theory. 

So I collected my suitcase, the zip on the front pocket had been broken off, but no matter, for I was at Boston Logan, and I was going to get onto the bus to South Hadley and everything was going to be peachy. I got myself Dunkin' Donuts and settled in for the long haul. At least half an hour before my bus was due to arrive, I got up and stood outside in the snow to make sure I didn't miss it. This is where my troubles started in earnest. I watched in abject terror (only mild exaggeration) as my bus failed entirely to stop. IT JUST DIDN'T STOP. At all. This was no laughing matter. I had to run, top up my Charlie Card, and catch the next Silver Line T. I got on the next one, but by this point it was 4.45 and the connecting bus to Springfield left at 5.20, and there were delays on the line for unknown reasons. I have never run through a station as quickly as I legged it through South Station. Luckily I have a fair amount of leg so I can go pretty fast. I got to the ticket desk only to be informed that there were no tickets left to Springfield. I thought I was going to cry, suddenly the lady found one more ticket, gave me a student discount and bundled me off to my gate. I got on the bus, happy as larry, sat down, in the last seat on the  bus, which was by the toilet, but it was all good, and waited to leave. At which point I realised I was no longer in possession of my Ukulele. 

So I did my looking like I'm about to cry and speaking in my best British accent trick, and the bus driver promised to wait while I ran BACK through the bus station to see if the Ukulele was at the ticket counter. Luckily it was right there, so I ran through the bus station one more time, walked all the way down the bus, trying not to look to guilty and we were OFF! Off out into Boston, onto the Mass Pike, and in the direction of my bed, and hopefully some form of sustenance. If all goes well.

Which is how I ended up on the bus to Springfield in the seat by the toilet, which smells, erm, interesting, with no reading light, but pretty safe in the knowledge that I'm actually likely to make it back to Mount Holyoke. Eventually. Touch on wood. Yep, definitely not superstitious at all.  

Thoughts From A Train

Ok so the title is fluffy and pretentious. I’m going to go ahead and blame the book I just finished reading, it’s called “Jane Austen ruined my life” and it’s pretty awful; badly written, weird concept, historically and culturally inaccurate, the whole nine yards. But I still read it cover to cover and am a little disappointed it’s finished, because it’s really romantic and gushy without being excessively sexy, because it’s fulfilling my saccharine sweet tooth, because it’s mind numbingly easy to read, because it feels good to be reading something which isn’t for school and because there’s something about reading on trains which is oddly, but satisfyingly, romantic to my mind. (Actually there was one more thing I wanted to moan about; all the ‘British’ characters sounded like they had sprung from turn of the century London – what? Who even talks like that anymore? Although luckily there were only about three ‘British’ characters in the whole book, which was odd considering it was set in England...)

I actually tried to write some of my Children’s Literature paper, the only thing I didn’t manage to get finished due to my ridiculously badly timed illness of epic proportions. Luckily I managed to get a medical extension on it, although not without some adventure. Because clearly at this stage nothing can go simply, why would life be easy? My professor wasn’t responding to my email and I really needed to know whether I’d gotten the extension and therefore should panic, or not. So I went to the English office to see if they had a better way to contact her, they didn’t so the chair of the department just asked me how long I’d like to write the paper, I suggested the 10^th of January and then he sent off a storm of emails. I still haven’t actually heard back from my professor, so I’m not actually sure whether she’s realised why my paper hasn’t come in yet. Although on saying that we’re supposed to email them in. Still, one would think that if we were supposed to email in our papers she would have to check her email in order to see whether mine was there or not. 

I’m not too sure how much sense I’m making. I didn’t get a great deal of sleep last night. I stayed up last night trying to get as much done on my paper as I could while other people were still working. I sat with Violet and the other Ellen in the library, and whilst I wasn’t hugely productive, I now only need to write 7 pages rather than 10, and I got to spend some time with my friends. I was hoping to get a little more done however, since now realistically I’m going to end up writing the paper over J-term, which I was really trying to avoid. I was hoping to be able to bum around and not really do too much work over J-term. Although on saying that the readings for my philosophy class has been posted online already for me, along with strict instructions that I should read and consider the materials carefully and come up with intellectual things to say about it. (I might have paraphrased ever so slightly...)

Anyway, so I’m on a train. The trains seem to follow the old cliché that everything in America is bigger than things at home. I have so much legroom it’s pretty epic, and the seats seem to be made for phenomenally fat people.  I have a power socket and internet, albeit very unreliable internet, hence why I’m writing this; not much internet require. The best thing however about this train is that it’s just like trains you see in old movies; it’s all tall and we’re plunging through the darkness and there’s an enormous orange moon and I feel very content. I always forget how much I love trains. I think they might be my preferred method of transportation.  There are such fantastic people on trains. I’m sat behind a group of Australian travellers who are all on iphones and ipads which seem to be so much better at capturing the dodgy internet connection than my dinosaur of a Dell, which incidentally I’m starting to think is on its very last legs. And on the other side of me is a couple, the girl is playing violent computer games and the guy is knitting the world’s longest scarf. The Mount Holyoke Woman in me approves of this failure to conform to gender norms. 

So anyway this marvel of modern technology, the peak of travelling comfort is whisking me away to sunny Boston, where I have to do fandagoing with the Boston T in order to make it safely to chez Ink-pad where I’m spending the night before hopefully flying off to old Blighty for a couple days of Christmas and New Year’s malarkey and real life British people and mince pies and vegetables and fruit and my duvet and actual real life Y chromosomes! So much excitement. Lucky I’m only back for 10 days really or all the novelty will go to my head. (I’m going to interrupt myself to say that knitting man has the oddest knitting technique I have ever seen. It’s like a cross between knitting and crocheting, it’s fascinating. I’m trying to figure out what he’s doing without looking like I’m staring at him...) 

I just noticed that this blog post is actually 100 words longer than what I’ve written on my Children’s Literature paper so far. How depressing. I also realised that I haven’t eaten for a very long time. I mean it’s only nine and I had lunch at 12. But I’m used to seriously regular dining hall food. 10, 12 and 6 without fail. Those first two meals are actually much too close together. Perhaps that is not too healthy? Regardless. Three regular meals. So right now I’m REALLY REALLY HUNGRY! So I’m hoping we’re nearly there now.

Wow. That was amazing. Just as I typed that I was hoping we were almost there the lady announced we were five minutes away. Makes me wonder, if I’d typed that sentence an hour again, would it have had the same effect? 

(So I was going to put a bit here about how I American trains were inferior to ours, because they were patchy, infrequent and equally late, but it transpires that despite leaving Springfield almost an hour and a half behind schedule we swung into Boston merely two minutes late! INSANE! The train can do magical time bending type things. So really American trains win! Coincidentally American subway systems are also superior – on the T in Boston they have phone signal! Can you imagine! I wonder how they do it....)

Home is where the heart is.

** Disclaimer - this was written in several pieces and therefore might not flow well or make sense, not too much of a change from usual **

I only have a week and a half left at Mount Holyoke this semester, I'm flying back to Guildford in exactly 12 days, this has produced the fascinating sentence: 'I'm going home on the 21st and then coming back home on the 2nd of January.' How does that even make sense in my head?

 

I've been thinking about writing this post for a couple of days now, but was finally prodded into action by the most lovely package I have ever received from my gorgeous friends in York. Usually there isn't much than can make me cry, except you know, a good book, or a soppy film, or a really sad story, which might jerk the occasional tear. But this had me literally bawling. For a good 45 minutes. It was one of the most lovely things I have ever received, even though it was just an envelope with a random assortment of gifts, cards and letters, it contained more love than I could have ever hoped for. /end soppy stuff.

That and the fact that from now on sleeping doesn't really look like it's on the agenda until Friday, let alone writing blogs, and I haven't even written about thanksgiving yet. Also the sheer amount of work is worrying me a little and when I worry I procrastinate like a pro. Still I think it's doable. I mean really it'll have to be, I don't have a great deal of choice. And it's only 2 10 page papers and a portfolio. What's the big deal? Hmmm. 

So anyway, recently it struck me how many places I call home.The first time I really noticed how easily I start calling a place home was in South Africa, when I realised that I was calling a tent which moved every day home and it escalated somewhat from there.The obvious place to start is Guildford, where I have lived almost my entire life, but recently I can say that I have added York, Plymouth MA, and the craziness that is Mount Holyoke College to my list.

I'm going back to Guildford on the 22nd of December this year, in time for Christmas, I have to say I'm looking forward to being home, Christmas on this campus isn't very Christmassy, despite the lights on the Commons and the Gates, and the odd Christmas decoration which has found it's way into the dining halls. I haven't been to any carol services, I haven't seen any carollers, no mince pies have been consumed at all, no mulled wine, no excessive Christmas music. No nothing. Christmas is going to be very short this year I think.

(I'm not going back to York for a gosh darned while, but hopefully I should be headed back for Cricket Presidents, worry not gang!)

The most fantastic thing about being friends with the world's shortest person (read: Half-Pint / Emily) is that I get to lay claims to her FANTASTIC family. They made me feel so at home, it was lovely. (see what I did there? I linked it to the title... ooooh! I'm a smart cookie!) Although Thanksgiving seems like it was a while ago,  I have to say it was one of my favourite American things thus far. This is probably in part because it contained a excess of my favourite things ever to do: sleeping and eating. I have literally never seen so much turkey in one place in my life. We had one huge 40 pound turkey and then another smaller turkey which was smoked, and then sweet potatoes and yam, and mashed potatoes, and beans, and stuffing and bacon and cranberry sauce (which I made myself!!) and I think more things which I'm forgetting about. And then ,when I was sat trying to contemplate how I was ever going to eat again, about 8 pies came out!!I have to admit that I sadly failed at eating everything on my plate. But I ate the pie for breakfast the following morning...

And the last place I call home is this crazy place called Mount Holyoke College. It is like an inverse universe where phrases like heteronomativity are used as though feminism is going out of fashion and liberalism is a way of life. Not to mention the fact that mono (which is what Americans call Glandular Fever I believe) is going (pardon the pun) viral, every other person seems to have it. Possibly because with the advent of the COLD we have recently been experiencing, us singletons are becoming a dying breed, as a friend pointed out "it's getting to the point of comic ridiculousness". However, despite the cold, there is still NO SNOW. Which is also ridiculous considering the amount of snow that England and in fact the rest of Europe is experiencing at the moment. Mount Holyoke trying to be differnet again! (This makes it sound as though the snow comes up to the Mount Holyoke gates and then stops, this clearly isn't the case) Still I'm holding out for a white Christmas back home, if I manage to get there that is...

In other news I'm still dying slowly in a corner, but I have every intention of waking up tomorrow fully healed. (I've been saying this every day for a while now, it's not happened so far - but I have a good feeling about tomorrow...)

Exams?

I recently realised I hadn't sat an actual real life exam since A-levels.
Which was a long time ago.
I haven't done this revision thing in a while. 
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!
Not to mention the fact that I'm sick.
Like actually, being pumped full of anti-biotics type sick.
Yup. I win at life again!
In other news there is a super sized blog post of seriousness coming. This is just a filler while I freak out about finals.
See you on the other side old chaps!

Why I love my Old English Professor: Reason 682

His 4 week projected final paper work schedule:

Week 1: Find and isolate topic.

Week 2: Drink tea, eat biscuits and think.

Week 3: Bibliography and rough draft

Week 4: Shape material into brilliant paper.

Needless to say I'm looking forward to week 2.

In other news I have mastered the art of putting up my blinds without assistance. Not just a pretty face!

(Ok, I've accepted that my life is neither adventurous nor exciting, I think you should do the same...)