I have a lot of stories I want to tell you guys, but some of them don't belong on the internet. So they will have to wait until I can see you in person.
In the meantime, here is a brief outline so I don't forget the important bits:
"You're in Britain now, grow up" - quote from Cute Bartender to me
Beetlejuice pants
Stealing glasses
Standing on the couches in the JCR and signing the National Anthem = not okay...apparently
221b Baker Street is not actually at 221b Baker Street
Riding on trains backwards is the worst
Lady Chapel
Ely
Eels
National Portrait Gallery
London, the day after the Olympics open
Kings Cross Station, on time as always
Don't buy cupcakes from cupcake stand on The Tube
In England The Golden Compass is called Northern Lights
"This is how I die" i.e. "The Most Dangerous Game"
Seedy biker bar, in which I "fit in"
Children are the worst. Period.
Everyone loves the devil duck and the photos that result
"Rachel...Henry VIII's second wife"
Wax figures
I'm sure there are other things I want to tell you, but like I have this midterm paper for Shakespeare that's due on Wednesday and there are midweek shenanigans for which I must prepare. Also I'm leaving for Scotland on Thursday, so yes.
I hope all is well back in the States. I shall be returning in a little over a fortnight.
You know the sounds that houses make? Apartments make them, too. Things settle. Things creak. The air conditioner kicks on with an almost vehement force if you bother to pay it any attention. What's unique about apartments, though, is that you can sometimes hear what your neighbors are up to. You can sometimes catch the murmuring undertones of a television set. The muted slam of a closing door. The stampede of footsteps climbing up and down the stairs, the jingle of keys in the hallway outside your door. It's comforting, actually, those noises, those presences of other living, breathing people all around you. I suppose it's more comforting if you know your neighbors (I know not a one). But for those like me who never bother getting chummy with the people who live literally on the other side of your hallway or even walls, the comfort comes from the ability to blame certain things on the activities of those other people.
It is therefore intensely uncomfortable when you find that you cannot.
I woke up at one of my usual wake up times (I think it might have been arounddddd 7 am? That sounds about right. The sun was most definitely up). I don't know about the rest of you, but whenever I wake up I have to immediately use the bathroom. Every time. Like an imperfect clock. So I grabbed my phone, shoved my glasses onto my face and wandered into the bathroom.
I knew that my mother was already gone, it being Saturday and all, and she'd mentioned that she'd be heading to work even earlier than 5 am because we had somewhere to be in the early afternoon. So that left me, my step father--who was out cold, sleeping in their room--and the cat.
So I was very, very puzzled when, as I was in the bathroom half-asleep, I heard a distinctly familiar tune. At first this did not bother me. I barely recognized the tune at first, but the more I thought about it, the more familiar it became. I strained to listen--had it just been my imagination?--and it played again. I frowned. I blinked. I knew that song all right--Twisted Nerve. A song used in the Kill Bill series, and more recently known as Tate's theme from American Horror Story.
I thought, well, that's odd. But it didn't trouble me, not then. I was still half-asleep, you see, and I rather liked that song. It didn't even occur to me to find it strange that it did not, in fact, seem like it was coming from any of the neighboring apartment units, not even the people above us (who I tended to hear most often).
The TV, I had assumed. Mine or perhaps my mother's. Or a phone.
Then I wandered back into my bedroom, and what I saw woke me up far more assuredly than the first few bars of Twisted Nerve.
My blinds were open.
They weren't open entirely--maybe about five inches. But still. I had not done it. Had they been like that before I wandered into the bathroom? I honestly couldn't remember, but I feel like I would have noticed, seeing as they are right next to my head when I sleep.
Maybe my mother did it when she came into my room this morning (something she always did before she left to work, whether I remember it or not). I immediately dismissed this as possible. My mother hated it when I left my blinds open like that when I was still sleeping. She certainly wouldn't have done it when she left at 4 am, with the sun not even up.
Still, I called her. Asked if she'd been in my room (she had). She had no idea what I was talking about with the blinds--maybe it was Frankie? she'd asked. He did like playing with the strings. But Frankie had been in the sink when I'd gone to the bathroom, and he'd been in there with me the whole time--and her solution for the music--perhaps it had been John's phone?--did not make any sense. His phone is old. He does not know how to put ringtones on it. And if he did, I seriously doubt he would have used Twisted Nerve.
Maybe it was the people upstairs, she suggested. Maybe it was your TV.
The TV was the likelier cause, and when I turned to consider it, it was indeed still on. But the volume was on low. Even standing two feet away from it I had to strain to hear what it was saying/playing. There was no way I would have been able to hear it all the way in the bathroom so distinctly. My mother's TV? No dice. It wasn't on at all.
But like I said, I was half awake. Maybe the whistling tune wasn't Twisted Nerve at all, but had jostled something in my brain to make me think of the song, and my memories, in cohoots with my half-asleep brain, played it again for me. Maybe I just imagined it.
But that doesn't explain the blinds.
(I know, I know, I posted this song already. Here, have another:)
I'd also like to add that my strange morning probably was a result of my being not-quite-awake. It is entirely possible that I opened the shades my self, and just didn't remember. Either way, I just wanted to write out how it felt cuz why not.
Giulia and I have contemplated different versions of this for like a year and a half now (though originally we wanted to do something more in the vein of 4 Player Podcast), and have finally decided to band together and make a site (via wordpress and tumblr) dedicated to reviewing/discussing/highlighting books, video games, movies, TV shows/miniseries, and whatnot, through written posts, podcasts, and videos. If this sounds like a thing you might be interested in doing, let me know, and I will add you.
GUYS SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO THIS SONG
I AM LEARNING THIS CRAZY HORSE DANCE.
SHHHH. SHHHHH.
If you can't stand it, you must skip to 1:55 because it kills me every time.
So I am totally still alive. It's an impressive feat, yeah? It really is.
Prior to yesterday, my life was rather insane. Let's start with last Thursday, in which we all got a bus and went to Stratford-Upon-Avon to go see a Royal Shakespeare Company production of The Tempest. I liked the show, my seat was kinda shitty because they are people drop down on wires and I could not see that at all because the upper balcony seats cut that off. I just saw Ariel's dangling feet. Other than that it was good. But man, there is not a lot to do in Stratford. Or at least not a lot of stuff that is cheap. I mean there is Shakespeare's birthplace which you can see for 14 pounds sterling or roughly $21. There is also his grave, which only cost a pound to see. But like it's a grave and I unlike another girl in my group did not find it necessary to go there and kiss the ground in front of the grave. (His grave is inside the church so she was kissing stone and not dirt and grass, but it was stone where asstons of people have walked). And there are also like the houses of Anne Hathaway and shit, but that's money. It was interesting in any case.
Friday, I walked with some other people to The Orchard at Grantchester, the place where Sylvia Plath and Virgina Woolf hung out and drank tea. I had a scone with clotted cream and jelly. And then that night I saw the weirdest fucking version of Macbeth ever performed. The only positive was that it was in an old Leper Chapel, but that was it.
Saturday, I got up at 4AM, got on a bus to London, then got on another bus that took the tour group to Leeds Castle, Canterbury Cathedral, and the Cliffs of Dover. I took a bunch of photos, which are on facebook for your creeping pleasure. I'm not entirely sure what to saw about those things. It was a lovely day and so clear out that when standing on the beach of Dover we could see France on the other side.
Sunday, I got up at 6AM to get on a bus to go to Bath and Stonehenge. In Bath, I saw the Roman Bathhouse where I was allowed to drink some of the "healing waters" from a fountain they had. It's something you have to do once, but will never do again. That water tasted like I got punched in the mouth. It had that metallic iron, blood taste.
I also saw where Jane Austen lived briefly, although she hated Bath with a passion. But it was cool.
And Stonehenge was cool, but really all you see is what you get.
And then on Monday, I went punting which is when you stand on the back of a flat bottomed boat and push the boat forward with a stick. I suck at it because I don't have upper body strength. Although I did enjoy making up facts and signing opera while going under bridges.
And Monday night, I saw THE DARK KNIGHT RISES!
AND GUYS! THERE WAS SO MUCH PITTSBURGH IN THAT MOVIE! I COULD TAKE YOU TO THOSE PLACES!! AND IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE LAST FIGHT SCENE I COULD SEE MY APARTMENT BUILDING!!! I FREAKED OUT!
But thankfully I was sitting next to strangers, due to assigned seating and me buying my ticket late, so I remained quiet. But while walking back with the others, we shouted about how awesome it was.
This summer has largely been uneventful and relatively unproductive. Turns out my brain works better when I have something to consistently do every day. Shame the job market sucks (though kudos to you clever folk who managed to beat the system and stay employed this summer!) but school will be resuming soon and hopefully then my mind won't seem so utterly stagnant.
Let's see...
Daytime television is the worst.
Thank god for DVR.
The horror movie franchise is more lacking than ever.
Despite the fact that superhero movies kind of suck (seriously, they're all set-up movies and you can TELL that they are!), I have been enjoying them of late. Saw the Hulk back when it came out because of Reasons (okay, because of Edward Norton) and thought that would be the end of my Marvel-inspired movie watching until Certain People insisted I see Thor, Captain America, and at least the first Iron Man. I have finally done this, and now I can FINALLY see the Avengers. So that's good. Also, Dark Knight Rises was a relatively satisfying end to the trilogy. Not as good as Dark Knight, of course, but still! I thought it was going to be uber shit-tastic, and was pleasantly surprised.
Also I kind of want to write about superheroes now. But where to start! And lord knows I don't need another project on my plate, but when have I ever been reasonable?
Alrighty, hopefully this is a sufficient enough post for Rachel to not feel awkward about posting her Very British Adventures, which is what we all really want to read about, right? :D
Musics:
This is not a new song for any of you (I hope!), but Jen showed me thissss weeks ago, I want to say, and I LOVE IT. Howl's Moving Castle and Florence+The Machine? Yes, please!!
I made it to Cambridge in one piece. It was not a fun journey, since my flight got delayed for 2 hours and I wound up missing my bus to Cambridge by 15 minutes. And then the cabbie who drove me to Cambridge got thwarted by one-way streets. So I had to lug my suitcases in the rain down the crowded streets....and I got lost. BUT I found my way. And it stopped raining.
So I made a brief little video of what the campus looks like and my room. You don't have to watch it, but I thought I'd share. Since I didn't make the jetlagged video because I fell asleep.
Also, the travel writing class I am taking has its own blog if you want to read that. Not all of the stuff on there will be mine, but it might be interesting to see or whatever. I'll cross post the shit I write, maybe? But the address for that is http://cambridgetravelwriting2012.wordpress.com/
And for those of you who requested it, my physical address is :
Name
UNH Summer Program
Gonville and Caius College
Cambridge CB2 1TA
England
And I'm posting this song because it seems rather fitting...
