London and fairy paths

London is a very big city, but I never feel intimidated by it, like I do New York. I've tried to rationalize my comfort in London and nerves about New York, I think maybe it is the skyline. New York's buildings are overwhelming you can only see the place where you stand, in London you can see out beyond the street your looking at or peek down the river way and see Big Ben. I'm not quite sure if I'd want to live in London permanently, I think I would prefer more country, but I would like to live there for a while at least. Today we went shopping at Portabello road, which is dangerous for me, while I'm trying not to spend money. If you walk far down the street you get the best antiques I found a dress from 1910! Of corse this was drastically out of my price range, but it was beautiful. I also saw all of these military jackets, some looked like they dated to the Regency era, or I suppose it could have been the Boer wars, never the less very interesting. I had to resisting stopping at everything, and I only bought a sale dress for 5p for a friend.

I'm going back into London next monday to meet with a woman who is an expert on nurses in ww1. Today I went to Primart (aka my savior in terms of buying clothing) and bought some dress pants. I should study up before I talk to her, I'm always nervous that I haven't researched enough or am misinterpreting something, and eventually someone will call me out and tell me I have no business writing. I was thinking about that the other day, if I had to be something else other than a writer how I could be happy, and I'm still not sure if I could be happy.

I was talking to my professor about Americans and the separation between indoors and outdoors. Here people utilize the outdoors more and don't think about. We walk everywhere and in Oxford the city bumps into the country. On my last day of British Detectives we went out into the middle of the country and finally walked into a small hamlet, the houses had thatched roofs and wooden beams, and finally my tutor lead us into a country pub. The pub had a backyard that was gorgeous with gardens and shurbbery everywhere, it looked at lot like a fairy's nook and the location even was like a fairy path.I want to bring it home with me, I want to bring everything home with me, except the excessively startchy meals. Sorry for all the rambling. I'll write again tomorrow.

Things a very short prose

When I was young I had a sixth grade teacher( I was not crazy about) who told her class never to use the word things. That the word things was weak and not to be used in her class. One of my peers just got a review back from my Oxford professor who said, "please talk more about the thingyness of things." Well I guess everyone has their own style.

Faith

She spoke with her hands making pictures of her prayers begging the virgin Mary for a humanly need something only a divine power could cure. As I walked a long the pews and statues people stood humbly before the relics awaiting judgement or asking for an answer. The Sacre Couer is up at the top of hill over looking all of Paris, a relic itself secretly judging from its high place. The amount of faith the pilgrims who worshiped here had, made me feel like an outsider on my own faith, secretly watching their private prayers.
Faith it is one of the hardest virtues, if it is in fact a virtue. Faith is difficult, not just in religion; but in your self, in the government, and as I discovered this weekend in the transit system. The train failed miserably creating an intresting story. When leaving Paris for London we got on the wrong subway which took us out to a shady section of Paris instead of garde norde. When we finally got to garde norde after much panicking the security told us we were too late to check in. After some alarm and emotional outbursts... he gave us a ticket for the next train free of charge. When we arrived in London the subway we were suppose to take was closed forcing us to take a convoluted system. At Paddington station they annoucned the Oxford train would be leaving from platform ten, but after sitting on the train at platform ten for half hour they announced that this was a mistake and then we had to take the elven o'clock train. Faith in the trainsit...I'm losing it.

This brings me to another point of faith- faith in people. The people in Paris are notoriously rude; however I have trouble believing that about anyone before meeting them. I put a lot faith in asking direction and meeting new people. However before I left numerous people had told me if they were rude i should remind them "we saved their butts in world war 2", this was of corse last resort...and I never once had to use it. In fact the people were all very warm..if you attempted to speak the language, which I did horribly but eagerly. One of my friends had a pen pale in France and he met up with us, which gave me the chance to talk to a local. He was very nice and spoke english well...my french on the other hand... But I had a lot of friends with me to interpret.

The city is gorgeous, when you walk along the Siene there are all these little stands set up selling art and trinkets. The area I stayed in was called Momarte it was where all the artist use to paint, and many still do, we walked through a section of all painters working on different pieces. I must confess that my favorite was along the Siene though, that is where Hemingway writes about. I was able to into the bookshop where he bought all his books, although in those days it was more like a book swap library. The topic of Heminways brings me to my last point on faith. Faith in ones self. I think this may be the hardest kind. Yesterday I got an email from a professor who read an excerpt of my book. It was pretty brutal she said I wrote too old fashion and it was distant. And that I wrote like Hemingway, but she didn't care for Hemingway. I love Hemingway's writing this I know and will not be swayed, I admire his style though never before has my work been compared to it. And when I was walking up to Shakespeare and co. I felt as though I was walking up as a writer, a new writer, yes, but I did not feel like I was an imposter. I felt like I was where I was suppose to be, and discovering new place where people of my kind had been coming for a very long time.

Distance

Muffled voices and frozen screens makes one feel very far far away. My skype connection is faulty at best- I can't seem to get a non-pixilated picture of anyone up. It is trying to show me the distance between Oxford and the Boston- here and home. I guess it is over 3,000 miles or so and skype is just letting me know. Although even my in country skypes are interrupted by bad connections. Oxford likes things to be very pretty and look very grand, but i have found the technology lacking....

Besides the distance there is also time to consider, time makes you feel far away- the empty space of time with you gone. My father has told me about a dozen home improvements he hopes to put in. In a way it is as though no time has changed when I hear my father stop talking about one of his many projects then I can start to feel far. But that is just physical things doors-pools- I'm sure there are a lot of other changes that have happened between me and the distance. My friends back home seem distracted on skype they are far, in miles and thoughts... but then how can you be on the same wave length this far apart? I'm not sure if conversation waves can travel that far...

In the meantime I have my own changes. I have my lovely sixteen pages to finish before Paris and two books to read, how these small details of my life will change me I do not know, maybe they won't. I bought a new dress today that was out of my budget, but my mother has been encouraging me buy it because I won't get another chance. It was a fun shopping excersion with one of my friends, we had both set up the afternoon to do papers but we took off and bought dresses instead. It was high table tonight so we felt justified in out decision; at least we had an occasion to wear the dresses. I should get working but it's doubtful at this moment. I miss my family, but at the same time I don't know if I can leave England in three weeks, it is one of the most beautiful places. I'll write again tomorrow.

He called out to me in his Dickion's style voice, and I could not help but think of little Jo from Bleak house. It was corse, but in an odd way proper, calling me miss and blessing me. He sat by the entrance to an Oxford college with his little dog, the gates he probably never breeched. He wanted a pound fifty, and I didn't give him a pent, but when he blessed me I couldn't help but cringe. Of corse we are taught that we can't give every time and to walk past, but I still don't know... And his dog, that brings me to another point, many of the students here think its atrocious that the homeless people here have dogs, but I still cannot decide weather everyone needs a companion. As Sir John says company company where would we be without company? And to be perfectly honest I don't know. Humans need a connection with some other living being weather it be another human or an animal it's deserved, no it's a necessity. The poor little dog must have had flees for it was tossing about on the side walk with an itch. It looked well fed though. I don't know I always rationalize people before animals.

I did most of my paper for Reading Jane Austen today. I came to the realization that I had a weak/minimal thesis, very bad start. But I think I have one now; that passion is not driven only by romantic love, but also by passion for wealth, sex, and society. It is the broadest I could get with still having a direction. I will write more tomorrow sorry this blog did put in much of my day.

Dyrham park

"The fields of the county could trick anyone into thinking that the green could go on forever, she once believed that the green could last and the ground would never go brown...I wrote that line thinking about Dyrham. I was able to revisit Dyrham park today, my favorite place in all of England. It does make you think that the green could go on forever, that there is nothing beyond it's cradling hills. I woke up at six thirty to catch a seven thirty train (this right here shows you how much I love Dyrham). Then I switched trains at Didcott where there is a large power plant, and finally road to Bath where I grabbed a cup of coffee then walked to queens square to grab the Dyrham bus. The free bus means that you are stuck at Dyrham from opening to close...but at the same time that is what i love about it, there is no hurry all your work is set aside to just be, and excist in this beautiful place.

I met a few deer who were only about thirty feet away from me. If you stay very still they come closer and closer testing their boundries. At one point I looked up at the deer standing only a few yards from where I was sitting and she looked up at me with a human like gaze then went closer and continued eating. I was able to write a bit on top of a hill to the left of the house, but I would like to go back to write the last scene of the book...when ever that happens to come, my word count is getting out of control but these are things to think about later for now I'm just focusing on writing it.

I wondered around the gift shop and bought my mother some strawberry jam, because the strawberries here are so much better than the ones at home and jam is the only way I can logically bring her home strawberries. I missed having my mother today last year it was the two of us at Dyrham...but it was just me today. I should probably go to bed. Tell me what you think of the picture I put up. Dyrham park has a photo contest not sure if it's over but if not I was thinking of submitting, I'm not much of a photographer but I like this one.

Quick blog

The bells chime from the college clock at every hour of the day. When your walking through the golden light of day it reminds me of the a church service blessing the city. When the clocks chimes at 2 in the morning, 3 in the morning-warning you to sleep when your tossing and turning the clocks are not so blessed sounding. Last night I tossed and turned until after three and slept through breakfast. It makes me nervous to sleep tonight or rather not be able to sleep tonight.

Tea and coffee has gotten me through every day here at Oxford. At three everyday we all take a break from home work, skyping, or any other activity and go to tea. We sit in the grand hall (aka the dinning hall) and have tea and biscuits(aka cookies). It's a relaxing time to talk about travel plans and essays. I try to get to tea early to have the milk chocolate top cookies.

I finally have my paris trip all booked chunnel and hostel. Apparently we are stay in the artisty quarters. My big plan is to go see all of Hemingway's old hang outs. I want to soak up all the writer juices in the air. I should go because it's well after midnight!