Yesterday morning I put on some music I hadn't listened to in awhile, but this time I listened to the words.
"This is your life, are you who you want to be?"*
Those words don't sound cliche at all anymore, and they struck me so much I felt like I could cry. I've always interpreted those words to mean something along the lines of, "Are you following all your dreams and turning into the cool person you dreamed you'd be as a kid?" but right now they mean something slightly different to me. They're saying, "Stop. Look at yourself. Are you okay with how you are right now? Look at the choices you make. Is this how you want to live? Are you proud of yourself? Is this how you want others to see you?"
You might not be doing anything wrong, but what are you doing right? What are you doing for God? Is this really who you want to be?
Probably not.
So what am I going to do about it?
*"This is Your Life" by Switchfoot on The Beautiful Meltdown
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
unknown
[Some thoughts I've wanted to get off my chest for a long time, and now I've finally found a way.]
When my friend Janie came back from seeing the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, she told me that the exhibit basically ended with Anne's father saying that he thought he and Anne were close, but that after reading her diary after her death turns out she had emotions much more deep and complex than he realized. He concluded that no father really knows their daughter.
Two things hit me after hearing that. First of all, what a depressing thought. Perhaps my apprehensions about being a mother stem primarily from this fear of not being able to actually know my own children (or them not knowing me?). And secondly, and more importantly, perhaps this idea is what prevents me from writing. I'm not scared of the world reading about my most personal and complex thoughts--I'm scared to let my father read them. My father, mother, sister, friends, professors, pastors, blah blah blah--all those people who think they know who I am. I'm scared of writing and revealing exactly what I think and the extent of who I am. I hate the thought of someone reading a blog or anything I write and being ashamed or embarrassed at the revelation of my thoughts because they realize they don't know me.
It's not that I live my life outwardly as a different person. It's just that all the complexities and insecurities and conflicts within could never be simultaneously and accurately portrayed to those around us. We see others as having fairly limited personalities, and know others also expect certain characteristics from us. This simplification process is comforting. It allows us to feel like we 'really know' someone else. But actually, we all have characteristics we promote simply because we know that's the personality others expect from us, even if we admit we're technically capable of just about any personality or emotion. It's just too unsettling to look at everyone around you, including yourself, in that light.
But whenever I read books anymore I can't help wondering "What does their mother think when she reads this?" or, if I know the author has children, "What do their kids think?" If I read the writings of my mother, would I squirm awkwardly to delve so deeply into the complexity of her psyche, her pain, her hopes. Would I feel closer to her, or perhaps further, knowing that the mother I "knew" and loved was only the tip of the iceberg of her self, and that her range of thoughts and insecurities was just as wide as mine? Isn't it easier, more comforting, to instead allow ourselves to believe that we know our parents, we know our friends, than to be confronted with the disturbing reality that we really can't know anybody? Not truly?
And now, back to my point earlier, perhaps this is what discourages me from writing... and why most of my blogs don't get posted without major cuts and edits, if I post them at all. It's not that I have nothing to say, I have plenty. It's not that nobody would read it, I'm sure there are some friends or family or whoever who would. It's more that I don't want anyone to feel betrayed. If I wrote a novel someday, and poured my heart into it, would my father read it and think sadly, "I don't know my own daughter?"
[Okay, now back to writing my papers.]
When my friend Janie came back from seeing the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam, she told me that the exhibit basically ended with Anne's father saying that he thought he and Anne were close, but that after reading her diary after her death turns out she had emotions much more deep and complex than he realized. He concluded that no father really knows their daughter.
Two things hit me after hearing that. First of all, what a depressing thought. Perhaps my apprehensions about being a mother stem primarily from this fear of not being able to actually know my own children (or them not knowing me?). And secondly, and more importantly, perhaps this idea is what prevents me from writing. I'm not scared of the world reading about my most personal and complex thoughts--I'm scared to let my father read them. My father, mother, sister, friends, professors, pastors, blah blah blah--all those people who think they know who I am. I'm scared of writing and revealing exactly what I think and the extent of who I am. I hate the thought of someone reading a blog or anything I write and being ashamed or embarrassed at the revelation of my thoughts because they realize they don't know me.
It's not that I live my life outwardly as a different person. It's just that all the complexities and insecurities and conflicts within could never be simultaneously and accurately portrayed to those around us. We see others as having fairly limited personalities, and know others also expect certain characteristics from us. This simplification process is comforting. It allows us to feel like we 'really know' someone else. But actually, we all have characteristics we promote simply because we know that's the personality others expect from us, even if we admit we're technically capable of just about any personality or emotion. It's just too unsettling to look at everyone around you, including yourself, in that light.
But whenever I read books anymore I can't help wondering "What does their mother think when she reads this?" or, if I know the author has children, "What do their kids think?" If I read the writings of my mother, would I squirm awkwardly to delve so deeply into the complexity of her psyche, her pain, her hopes. Would I feel closer to her, or perhaps further, knowing that the mother I "knew" and loved was only the tip of the iceberg of her self, and that her range of thoughts and insecurities was just as wide as mine? Isn't it easier, more comforting, to instead allow ourselves to believe that we know our parents, we know our friends, than to be confronted with the disturbing reality that we really can't know anybody? Not truly?
And now, back to my point earlier, perhaps this is what discourages me from writing... and why most of my blogs don't get posted without major cuts and edits, if I post them at all. It's not that I have nothing to say, I have plenty. It's not that nobody would read it, I'm sure there are some friends or family or whoever who would. It's more that I don't want anyone to feel betrayed. If I wrote a novel someday, and poured my heart into it, would my father read it and think sadly, "I don't know my own daughter?"
[Okay, now back to writing my papers.]
Friday, March 21, 2008
A list from my childhood
What is it about being human that makes us nostalgic for our childhood? Or maybe it's just part of being alive, and dogs and oak trees wish they were puppies and innocent little acorns once again. Today Jenny and I visited the truly enchanting gardens of a old Prussian Palace (in Potsdam, outisde of Berlin). A steady drizzle fell on our umbrellas as we walked along, stepping around the deepest puddles and navigating through hedges and over bridges. Some weather is simply conducive to dwelling on the past, and in the midst of what felt like our own 'secret garden,' the topic inevitably fell on the much more magical days of our youth--anything from those gradeschool book order catalogues to Birthday parties. The topics discussed, combined with the general magnificence of our surroundings, made me homesick--not for my house is Wisconsin, but for comfort of being myself again, 10 or so years ago.
I dwell on my childhood quite often, but today the scenery triggered someone I had not thought of for sometime--one of the first book characters I fell in love with, 'Dickon' (at least I think that's how you spelled his name). Okay, so maybe 'fell in love with' is a strong term, but looking back, just like I had a crush on Dimitri from the cartoon Anastasia or Thomas from Pocahontas or whatever kids movie, I felt sure that if I were to meet Dickon, from Secret Garden, in real life, I would fall for him too.
So then in my mind, I tried to think of other fictional guys that had the same effect on my childhood self. After Dickon, I'll admit I'd have to add Nat Eaton from The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Rab Silsbee from Johnny Tremain, Robin from the Outlaws of Sherwood, and more I just can't remember. Oh those were the days. Those good old days when I would hide under the living room table or in the bathtub reading when we had company over cause I didn't want to be bothered talking to adults and I'd much rather finish my book.
It's funny that when you're little, all anyone does is try to make you think about the future. 'What will you be when you grow up?' Well, I guess they still ask that question (and I still don't know, but that's a whole blog in itself). And now that I'm older, all I do is talk about my childhood and mourn the absense of my imagination.
That reminds me. Today as Jenny and I toured the impressive estate, we also gushed about Pride and Prejudice and all those Jane Austen type stories with lords and ladies and carriages and large manors and hunting parties. I mentioned how much I wanted to go watch Pride and Prejudice and Jenny added that curling up on the couch in a big quilt and watching those movies sounded amazing just then. Awhile later, Jenny commented that it was funny that when we were at home watching P&P, we would talk about how amazing it would be to visit those places. And now that we were actually there, all we wanted was to be at home, watching the movies. Go figure.
I dwell on my childhood quite often, but today the scenery triggered someone I had not thought of for sometime--one of the first book characters I fell in love with, 'Dickon' (at least I think that's how you spelled his name). Okay, so maybe 'fell in love with' is a strong term, but looking back, just like I had a crush on Dimitri from the cartoon Anastasia or Thomas from Pocahontas or whatever kids movie, I felt sure that if I were to meet Dickon, from Secret Garden, in real life, I would fall for him too.
So then in my mind, I tried to think of other fictional guys that had the same effect on my childhood self. After Dickon, I'll admit I'd have to add Nat Eaton from The Witch of Blackbird Pond, Rab Silsbee from Johnny Tremain, Robin from the Outlaws of Sherwood, and more I just can't remember. Oh those were the days. Those good old days when I would hide under the living room table or in the bathtub reading when we had company over cause I didn't want to be bothered talking to adults and I'd much rather finish my book.
It's funny that when you're little, all anyone does is try to make you think about the future. 'What will you be when you grow up?' Well, I guess they still ask that question (and I still don't know, but that's a whole blog in itself). And now that I'm older, all I do is talk about my childhood and mourn the absense of my imagination.
That reminds me. Today as Jenny and I toured the impressive estate, we also gushed about Pride and Prejudice and all those Jane Austen type stories with lords and ladies and carriages and large manors and hunting parties. I mentioned how much I wanted to go watch Pride and Prejudice and Jenny added that curling up on the couch in a big quilt and watching those movies sounded amazing just then. Awhile later, Jenny commented that it was funny that when we were at home watching P&P, we would talk about how amazing it would be to visit those places. And now that we were actually there, all we wanted was to be at home, watching the movies. Go figure.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Yay Friday Five
I watched the film High Fidelity for the first time last night (oh John Cusack), and am now extremely inspired to create a top five list (if you haven't seen it, the characters in this movie are making top five lists constantly, mostly about music).
So, in the spirit of High Fidelity, my (CURRENT) top five favorite albums...
Little explanation... I do not in any way claim to be very knowledgeable about music, so there are obviously many outstanding albums out there that I have never heard before, or have heard too recently to be sure about. The albums listed below are those CDs that I not only find outstanding, but more importantly for one reason or another cannot get sick of. I've listened to them countless times and still love them. These are NOT the top five best albums out there, simply the five I can't get enough of.
5. Mae's The Everglow
4. Relient K's MmHmm
3. Matchbox Twenty's More than You Think You Are
2. Death Cab for Cutie's Transatlanticism
1. Brand New's The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me
Honorable mentions: The Best of Simon & Garfunkel, Ok Go's Oh No (too soon), Brand New's Your Favourite Weapon and Deja Entendu, Avril Lavigne's Under My Skin (can't believe I'm admitting that), and Jimmy Eat World's Futures and many more
Wow, that was painful. So many beautiful things to leave off. =(
So, in the spirit of High Fidelity, my (CURRENT) top five favorite albums...
Little explanation... I do not in any way claim to be very knowledgeable about music, so there are obviously many outstanding albums out there that I have never heard before, or have heard too recently to be sure about. The albums listed below are those CDs that I not only find outstanding, but more importantly for one reason or another cannot get sick of. I've listened to them countless times and still love them. These are NOT the top five best albums out there, simply the five I can't get enough of.
5. Mae's The Everglow
4. Relient K's MmHmm
3. Matchbox Twenty's More than You Think You Are
2. Death Cab for Cutie's Transatlanticism
1. Brand New's The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me
Honorable mentions: The Best of Simon & Garfunkel, Ok Go's Oh No (too soon), Brand New's Your Favourite Weapon and Deja Entendu, Avril Lavigne's Under My Skin (can't believe I'm admitting that), and Jimmy Eat World's Futures and many more
Wow, that was painful. So many beautiful things to leave off. =(
Monday, March 3, 2008
"Jude Law and a Semester Abroad"
I'm singing along to Brand New's "Your Favourite Weapon," which means one thing--I am angry. Angry and frustrated. I haven't really experienced much culture shock with regards to England and the people, but I have definitely had my share of confusion and frustration with this school. I guess I can't talk for the entire English school system, but let me tell you, this school is frustrating. None of the offices can answer your question the first time around, they usually send you to a different building, different office, until you've gone around the entire campus looking for an answer to a simple question, like "What is my address here?" (and by the way, I've gotten about three different answers to that question, all of which are valid, I think). Everybody, students and professors, think they're so busy, but really, this is nothing compared to the work we have to do at Eau Claire. Up until now, when the deadlines are actually approaching, I've felt like I've been on vacation, and my brain is seriously turning to goo in my head. I'm waiting for it to dribble out through my ears any day now. I can't even focus on cleaning my room, let alone writing one of the five papers that are due right after break.
Just today, my professor started explaining the first assessment (each class has two assignments in the semester which your entire grade is based upon) which is due in about five weeks and receiving a bunch of dumb questions, of course, most of them repeating things she had just explained. There was an entire option that she didn't even mention, however, so my friend Janie and I thought we'd just ask her after class about the option (listed on the syllabus, mind you) of making a video or a website instead of writing just an essay. When we went up to ask her, she acted flustered and annoyed, telling us that she couldn't teach us how to use that technology and that we'd be on our own (and might I add we didn't ask for her to teach us that). She then went on to tell us that we were making her late for her meeting, that "this is what office hours are for," that if we wanted to do this we would need to meet with her and have a lengthy conversation, that she was really busy that week, and that we should have talked to her about this earlier. She said a lot more I can't remember, but every thing she said basically sent the message that we were being very inconsiderate to her and her busy schedule to bring up this project, and that we were inconveniencing her by wanting to do this type of project, even though she listed it on her own syllabus as an option. She was so short with us and so demeaning that I still feel upset.
And it wasn't just this class, it's been other classes and professors too. I feel like the moment I open my mouth, I'm slapping a stereotype on my forehead. It's as if people respect me when I'm silent, but as soon as I start speaking and they realize by my accent that I'm American, I've lost a lot of credibility in their eyes. This was confirmed to me this afternoon in my America from the Perspective of Britain class that all Americans are required to take. Today we examined the "stupid American" stereotype to try to figure out why most British people automatically associate Americans with stupidity. Our professor (whom I respect a lot, please don't assume that I'm frustrated with everyone here) suggested that it's not simply about the fact that they think President Bush is an idiot, but that simply by looking at the television shows that we export, it's not very surprising--South Park, My Name is Earl, and others (can't remember them all, but there was more). Many people associate us with stupidity, perhaps consciously, perhaps unconsciously, but either way, it does make things difficult. It's interesting though--I don't necessarily blame people for seeing our country as a whole as stupid, based on the information they receive. But I forget that their opinion of the USA can directly affect their opinion of me. I guess I naively assumed that they'd judge me individually, but that's not always the case. I am a stupid American. A stupid, lazy, consumerist, arrogant American.
Wow, I covered a lot of territory with this blog. What started out as frustration with a teacher kind of evolved into a lament for the stupid stereotype of my nation. Yikes. I do feel better though. I do want to add, that despite all of this, I am still thoroughly enjoying my time here. Issues like this don't arise constantly, but moments like these do hit every once in awhile and cause me to stop and reflect on the bigger picture. Here are a couple videos music videos that deal with these issues. The first is from an American punk rock band that sort of satirizes the lack of awareness of most Americans, and the second is from a UK artist criticizing consumerism (especially USA). And finally, a very embarrassing collection of interviews that aired on an Australian news channel. This is the video they actually played at my study abroad orientation. Although this video could have been editing easily, the main point is that this is what other countries are watching and using to shape their opinion of America. So scary.
NOFX "Franco Un-American"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzpTmcq7nBg
Adam Freeland (UK artist) "We Want Your Souls"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvwK-3cQ6gE
"Stupid Americans" - Australian news clip
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJuNgBkloFE
Just today, my professor started explaining the first assessment (each class has two assignments in the semester which your entire grade is based upon) which is due in about five weeks and receiving a bunch of dumb questions, of course, most of them repeating things she had just explained. There was an entire option that she didn't even mention, however, so my friend Janie and I thought we'd just ask her after class about the option (listed on the syllabus, mind you) of making a video or a website instead of writing just an essay. When we went up to ask her, she acted flustered and annoyed, telling us that she couldn't teach us how to use that technology and that we'd be on our own (and might I add we didn't ask for her to teach us that). She then went on to tell us that we were making her late for her meeting, that "this is what office hours are for," that if we wanted to do this we would need to meet with her and have a lengthy conversation, that she was really busy that week, and that we should have talked to her about this earlier. She said a lot more I can't remember, but every thing she said basically sent the message that we were being very inconsiderate to her and her busy schedule to bring up this project, and that we were inconveniencing her by wanting to do this type of project, even though she listed it on her own syllabus as an option. She was so short with us and so demeaning that I still feel upset.
And it wasn't just this class, it's been other classes and professors too. I feel like the moment I open my mouth, I'm slapping a stereotype on my forehead. It's as if people respect me when I'm silent, but as soon as I start speaking and they realize by my accent that I'm American, I've lost a lot of credibility in their eyes. This was confirmed to me this afternoon in my America from the Perspective of Britain class that all Americans are required to take. Today we examined the "stupid American" stereotype to try to figure out why most British people automatically associate Americans with stupidity. Our professor (whom I respect a lot, please don't assume that I'm frustrated with everyone here) suggested that it's not simply about the fact that they think President Bush is an idiot, but that simply by looking at the television shows that we export, it's not very surprising--South Park, My Name is Earl, and others (can't remember them all, but there was more). Many people associate us with stupidity, perhaps consciously, perhaps unconsciously, but either way, it does make things difficult. It's interesting though--I don't necessarily blame people for seeing our country as a whole as stupid, based on the information they receive. But I forget that their opinion of the USA can directly affect their opinion of me. I guess I naively assumed that they'd judge me individually, but that's not always the case. I am a stupid American. A stupid, lazy, consumerist, arrogant American.
Wow, I covered a lot of territory with this blog. What started out as frustration with a teacher kind of evolved into a lament for the stupid stereotype of my nation. Yikes. I do feel better though. I do want to add, that despite all of this, I am still thoroughly enjoying my time here. Issues like this don't arise constantly, but moments like these do hit every once in awhile and cause me to stop and reflect on the bigger picture. Here are a couple videos music videos that deal with these issues. The first is from an American punk rock band that sort of satirizes the lack of awareness of most Americans, and the second is from a UK artist criticizing consumerism (especially USA). And finally, a very embarrassing collection of interviews that aired on an Australian news channel. This is the video they actually played at my study abroad orientation. Although this video could have been editing easily, the main point is that this is what other countries are watching and using to shape their opinion of America. So scary.
NOFX "Franco Un-American"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LzpTmcq7nBg
Adam Freeland (UK artist) "We Want Your Souls"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvwK-3cQ6gE
"Stupid Americans" - Australian news clip
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJuNgBkloFE
Sunday, March 2, 2008
My new talent
So if I've learned one thing so far on this semester abroad about myself, it is that I am a master in the skill of acquiring crap. Seriously, I should get some sort of award. I've only been here for a month and already my dorm room, which I share with no one, is full. Full of crap. I don't even know how that happened. The first weekend I was here, it felt so empty and bare. I had a suitcase and a backpack, and everything unpacked hung neatly in my closet or sat peacefully on my bookshelf or folded just right in my drawer, allowing me to slide the empty suitcases under my bed. Perfect, right? Well now, my desk, my bookshelves, the top of my bookshelf, my entire bulletin board, the top of my dresser, and my floor are significantly covered with stuff. I don't even know where to begin in the sorting process. And I don't have any good method for organizing--no desk drawers, no handy boxes, no little compartments, so things mostly sit in stacks and random piles all over the place. I've been saving my bottles to clean out and cut the tops off to use for pencil containers and such, but it actually just makes everything look trashier instead of more organized. Seriously, what is my problem? How did this happen? How do things populate so quickly? Unbelievable. Anyways, room inspections are tomorrow so I've got to get back to the whole cleaning/tidying up process, but just thought I'd vent for a moment, about myself, and my talent for gathering crap. Cheers.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
OSCARS!
I know it's been quite awhile since I posted here, but I've been a bit side-tracked with the whole England thing, so my apologies. But today being such a special day, I figured I had to make a few quick comments.
Yes, I am a sucker for the Oscars. I wasn't always, but ever since high school and I started to become obsessed with movies (actually, ever since Lord of the Rings started getting nominated for stuff), it's meant a lot more to me. Amanda, Jenny, and I would have our cute little Oscar slumber parties at my house and I would fill out those little sheets with all the nominees and check who I wanted to win each award. But unfortunately this year the Oscars will have to be watched on my laptop in my dorm room alone at 1 am. But, chin up (probably my new favorite phrase the English like to use), I can still babble about the Oscars on my blog and make a couple silly top five lists for fun. So, in reflection of a great year of movies, here are, in my opinion, some of the best and worst of the year:
First of all, although I was able to see 35 of the movies released in 2007, there were still a good 26 I missed out on (I'm going with the official list of eligible movies the Academy has on their site). Here are the top movies I regret not being able to see this year (not in order):
Rocket Science
Into the Wild
Grace is Gone
Control
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
The Namesake
Away from Her
There Will Be Blood
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
Zodiac
Favorite Movies of 2007 (none of these lists are in order, really)
Juno
Atonement
300
Rescue Dawn
Becoming Jane
Worst Movies of 2007
Because I Said So
Catch and Release
Evening
Gracie
In the Land of Women
My Personal Oscars (of the movies I've seen):
Best Picture: Can't decide... the best/most well made movie of 2007 was No Country for Old Men, but my personal favorites were Juno and Atonement
Best Actor: Christian Bale in Rescue Dawn
Best Actress: Ellen Page in Juno
Best Director: Joe Wright for Atonement (not even nominated--ridiculous!)
Best Score: Atonement by Dario Marianelli
Best Original Screenplay: Diablo Cody for Juno
Well, anyways, it's almost midnight here in England, so I'm going to take a quick nap before the show starts. Best wishes to all of the artists nominated tonight. =)
Yes, I am a sucker for the Oscars. I wasn't always, but ever since high school and I started to become obsessed with movies (actually, ever since Lord of the Rings started getting nominated for stuff), it's meant a lot more to me. Amanda, Jenny, and I would have our cute little Oscar slumber parties at my house and I would fill out those little sheets with all the nominees and check who I wanted to win each award. But unfortunately this year the Oscars will have to be watched on my laptop in my dorm room alone at 1 am. But, chin up (probably my new favorite phrase the English like to use), I can still babble about the Oscars on my blog and make a couple silly top five lists for fun. So, in reflection of a great year of movies, here are, in my opinion, some of the best and worst of the year:
First of all, although I was able to see 35 of the movies released in 2007, there were still a good 26 I missed out on (I'm going with the official list of eligible movies the Academy has on their site). Here are the top movies I regret not being able to see this year (not in order):
Rocket Science
Into the Wild
Grace is Gone
Control
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
The Namesake
Away from Her
There Will Be Blood
The Wind that Shakes the Barley
Zodiac
Favorite Movies of 2007 (none of these lists are in order, really)
Juno
Atonement
300
Rescue Dawn
Becoming Jane
Worst Movies of 2007
Because I Said So
Catch and Release
Evening
Gracie
In the Land of Women
My Personal Oscars (of the movies I've seen):
Best Picture: Can't decide... the best/most well made movie of 2007 was No Country for Old Men, but my personal favorites were Juno and Atonement
Best Actor: Christian Bale in Rescue Dawn
Best Actress: Ellen Page in Juno
Best Director: Joe Wright for Atonement (not even nominated--ridiculous!)
Best Score: Atonement by Dario Marianelli
Best Original Screenplay: Diablo Cody for Juno
Well, anyways, it's almost midnight here in England, so I'm going to take a quick nap before the show starts. Best wishes to all of the artists nominated tonight. =)
Thursday, January 31, 2008
last minute cramming
Update: I leave tomorrow. TOMORROW. Oh my.
In light of my quickly approaching departure from American culture, I've been doing a little cramming lately. Tonight we had a full Thanksgiving spread for supper, I had a burrito for lunch, and I'm up late watching X-Files ("Paper Hearts" episode). I love this show. A zillion thanks to Phil for introducing me to Mulder and Scully.
And on another note, this may be the last time I type from American soil for awhile. I'll pick up again sometime next week, and will definitely be typing in a British accent. Until then, cheers.
Also, here's the address for my travel blog, incase anyone missed it:
http://acrossthepond-dr.blogspot.com/
In light of my quickly approaching departure from American culture, I've been doing a little cramming lately. Tonight we had a full Thanksgiving spread for supper, I had a burrito for lunch, and I'm up late watching X-Files ("Paper Hearts" episode). I love this show. A zillion thanks to Phil for introducing me to Mulder and Scully.
And on another note, this may be the last time I type from American soil for awhile. I'll pick up again sometime next week, and will definitely be typing in a British accent. Until then, cheers.
Also, here's the address for my travel blog, incase anyone missed it:
http://acrossthepond-dr.blogspot.com/
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