Good Night

I think it's going to be a good year.

After my nap, I left the dorm (which is in absolutely terrible shape, like something out of a movie when they're trying to make a point about the awful conditions some people live in. Okay, maybe not quite so drastic, but it's pretty bad.) and I wandered around for a while. I didn't intend to be gone long, so I only wore flip flops.

And then I got a little turned around.

In all honesty, I knew how to get back, but it was such a loooong way that I kept turning onto different streets thinking that this one surely had to be a shortcut of some sort. So I actually wandered around Edinburgh for about three hours.

It turned out fine, though, even though my feet are still killing me.

Once I got back, I was trying to be productive--unpack some more, pull out the hangers I bought and start clearing the already-considerable mess I've made. I left the door open since I'd only met one other girl in my twelve-girl suite (codename Blondie). She invited me out to a club, but I couldn't remember what it was called or where it was, so I'd resigned myself to staying in and just going to bed early.

And then another girl stumbled by, whom I shall call Alaska, after her state of origin, even though she goes to Dartmouth. She's very friendly, very people-oriented. She'd been hanging out with a boy (codename: England) who is a U of Edinburgh student but who'd studied abroad at her school last year. That's where they met.

So Alaska and England were headed off to a couple different "freshers" activities (freshman orientation stuff--mostly clubs and bars on campus that were only open to freshmen, actually) and Alaska immediately invited me along. I leaped at the chance, since, you know, I'd like to get along with everyone I'm living alongside this year.

England ended up taking us the long way to the freshers' stuff, but on the way we ran into a girl Alaska goes to Dartmouth with (codename: Arizona), and at the library bar (yes, the campus library has a bar and a pool hall in it!) we met a guy from St. Lucia. I didn't have any ID on me that proved I was over 18, so I didn't drink, but we all hung out at the different bars, went to a few clubs to dance, met a few more girls from my suite, and baaasically had a jolly good time.

(Apparently, that's quite a pretentious thing for an Englishperson to say. Not surprising.)

And now it's a quarter to four in the morning.

Good night. (It was.)

Wow. Just... wow.

This has quite probably been the most stressful two weeks of my life. Packing is stressful enough. Doing it twice is annoyingly stressful. Doing it twice, then missing your flight, then showing up at the wrong gate before FINALLY catching your (my) flight is basically unbearable.

I haven’t slept in I-don’t-know-how-many-hours, so this will probably either short and rambly or long and rambly. Thank god for spellcheck. And internet connections, while we’re counting our blessings.

So! I just arrived in Edinburgh. My bed is half made. I gave up halfway through getting the duvet cover on, because it’s ridiculously enormous. Which I suppose I’ll be grateful for in a few months when winter sets in, but right now I’m just beyond caring about it. (But I have a pillow!!! I am not beyond caring about that. :) At ALL.)

There are no elevators in my building. I’m on the seventh floor. (Sixth? Maybe.) I also have two fifty-pound suitcases, a backpack, and a duffel bag. OH MY GOD SO TIRED is all I really have to say about that. A very nice French girl offered to help me get my stuff up, but I don’t think she realized how much god-awful-ness would be involved because she definitely pulled the “I’m French and don’t speak any English so I’m leaving now because this goddamn luggage weighs a ton” routine.

She was nice enough to help for four flights, though, so I didn’t call her on it.

I have my own room, which is wonderful. There’s more furniture in here than I know what to do with. For some reason, there’s another, smaller desk beneath the regular desk. I don’t know what to do with it quite yet. Maybe I’ll just… put it in the middle of the floor. After I finish unpacking and hide my suitcases. Or block the door with it?

I also have a phone. (And internet. Thank god. Again. Hallelujah and all that.) And bookshelves!

Pictures (possibly a video) to come. After I find my converter and charge my camera.

Oh, dear.

I started packing yesterday. Technically, I was supposed to start packing on Saturday, but I couldn’t quite face it. I pulled out the vacuum-free bags that make everything airtight and stuffed all my coats and sweatshirts and fluffy shirts into them and then flopped down on top of them to push all the air out. It was an exercise in silliness.

My brother and I have been home alone since Saturday. Our parents went to go work on a house in Vegas, and they were supposed to be home last night. They got too tired, though, so at midnight the house phone rings. I dive for it, praying it didn’t wake my brother, and when I pick it up all I hear is the dial tone. Then my cell phone rings (loudly), and I race back across the room (across the tile, wearing socks and slipping and half-falling all over the place). It’s my mother, of course. They ended up spending the night at some awful-sounding motel called Pete’s Casino, or Pete’s something-or-other. She walks me through how to get my brother ready for school, and then we hang up and I realize I have to be up and out the door in, like, five and a half hours.

Bleh. That said, I don’t know how high schoolers do it. I know I did, once upon a time, but I also seem to remember falling asleep in just about every class except the ones where I had to sit in the front.

This is all an attempt to distract myself from… Saturday. When I leave. Say goodbye to my dad and little brother. Get on a plane and fly to New Jersey. Spend a week with my mother, her brother, and his family. Then get on another plane and fly across the Atlantic.

Oh, goodness. I think it might be time to turn the TV back on. TV’s a good distraction.

Zepplin Zoo

This is adorable. ADORABLE. :)

Four days!

…Until the release of the third installment of the Hunger Games trilogy, of course. :) Mockingjay! I’m so excited I could puke. (That’s probably more due to overeating on my mother’s birthday, though.)

Tomorrow morning (bright and wayyy too early) I’m going surfing with my dad and his buddy. It’ll be my first venture into the water since I attacked a jellyfish (and lost). lol. There’ve been multiple great white shark sightings in the beaches we usually surf at, but I’m not too worried. I’m significantly less worried than I expected to be, actually. It’s not like sharks enjoy the taste of people, after all. And they’re just babies, the ones that are coming so close to shore. Okay, six, seven, and nine foot babies, but still just young’uns.

I also discovered over the past few days that Lili St. Crow’s third book in the Strange Angels series came out at the end of July, so I’m rereading the first two. I’ve already picked up a copy of the third, called “Jealousy,” and it’s sitting on one of my brand-new bookshelves at the moment. :) I always enjoy rereading the first of the series (“Strange Angels”), though I remember vaguely that the second installment (“Betrayals”) left me a little bewildered.

But… eh. Guess I’ll find out in a few days.

Charles de Lint's "The Blue Girl"

** bit of a spoiler alert, though it's not too bad **

I just finished rereading "The Blue Girl" for the first time in about four years (and unfortunately, only during this reading did I realize there are many, many more stories that take place in Newford). My favorite part about the story was Imogene's voice. She's brilliant and quirky and brave and fun, and of course, don't we all wish we were brilliant, quirky, brave and fun?

The adults--the parents, in particular, stood out to me as well. They weren't absentee parents, ...more I just finished rereading Charles de Lint's "The Blue Girl" for the first time in about four years (and unfortunately, only during this reading did I realize there are many, many more stories that take place in Newford). My favorite part about the story was Imogene's voice. She's brilliant and quirky and brave and fun, and of course, don't we all wish we were brilliant, quirky, brave and fun?

The adults--the parents, in particular, stood out to me as well. They weren't absentee parents, as is common in so many other YA books. Maxine's father didn't play much of a role in the story, and Imogene's father didn't at all, but both of their mothers featured relatively prominently. They were minor characters, of course, but what I like to call major-minor characters (as in, they show up and interact with major characters more than other minor characters). Maxine's mother even had her own character arch where she grew and began to recover from her divorce. It was interesting, because both mothers were very clearly supportive characters.

The best part of this story was when Imogene accepts the existence of fairies and realizes she hasn't been dreaming when she sees them. The reader already knew it, Maxine suspected, Christy knew it, Adrian knew it, Tommery knew it--it was totally common knowledge, and all that was left was for Imogene to discover her new reality. When she did, though--that one line ("It wasn't a dream.") was the single most chilling thing I've come across in I don't know how long. It was beautifully done, and it was a stroke of genius on Charles de Lint's part.

It was chilling because bad dreams aren't real. That's what everyone tells themselves, or each other, when we wake up in the middle of the night. "It's okay. It was only a dream. It's over now, it wasn't real. It was only a dream." But to discover that it wasn't just a dream, and that it isn't okay--that's one of the most horrifying things that can happen to someone.

After Imogene comes to that realization, though, the story drops off for a bit. It just isn't as exciting. The pace isn't kept up or anything; they're planning out how to defeat the bad guys and it's just unnecessary word fluff. I honestly got bored enough to think about quitting in the middle of the book, though I'm glad I stuck with it. The climax at the end is worth it.

Colds are yucky.

I’m sick. Blargh. I went up to Santa Barbara to visit school friends before I leave for Scotland for a year and basically more fun than my immune system can handle. Traveling and staying up until six-thirty in the morning and such.

Oh well. It was worth it, and I’m on the mend now, even if my sleep schedule is all wacked out. I got up at about noon today and spent the first two hours of the day writing book reviews for my goodreads.com account. Go ahead and check it all out. :) I don’t… ahem… have any friends yet, but I really love the whole concept. It’s like Facebook for book lovers. You have these things called “shelves,” where you basically categorize books as “read,” “currently reading,” or “to-read,” and you can assign stars for how good a book was and write reviews for books, talk to people that read the same things you do, obsess over pretty cover art (I’m so glad I’m not the only one in the world who does that), follow your favorite authors and what they’re reading, and even join book groups that choose a different book to read each month.

Pretty sweet deal, if you ask me. :)

And speaking of shelves, I have put up three new bookshelves in my bedroom! Okay, so only two are up at the moment and I still have to finish painting the third, but I’m so excited! I love filling up bookshelves almost as much as I love finishing books. =P

Life in the Summer

I’ve had kind of a slew of run-ins with creepy-crawlies recently. Ticks and jellyfish, mostly. And there was a spider in my bedroom yesterday, but I caught him in a jar and threw him outside.

The jellyfish, though, that’s the most exciting story, so I’ll share that one. :) I was surfing with my dad on Monday at La Jolla Shores, breaking in my brand-new wetsuit. It’s a spring suit, so it’s short-sleeved. (Winter suits, like the one my dad has, come down to your wrists and ankles.) We’d been out there for a long time already, almost two hours, when I was paddling back out on my board and managed to slam my hand all the way through a glob of slimy, globby purple stuff. I thought it was seaweed. It was gross, so I yanked my hand back out. After a second, though, my hand and wrist started to tingle, then sting and hurt. A lot—which is when I realized that, duh, seaweed’s not purple, that’s probably a jellyfish.

So I rolled off my board, got out of the water as fast as I could, yelled for my dad to watch my board, and ran off to the lifeguard station. No, they didn’t pee on it. They sprayed rubbing alcohol to disinfect it, and then told me to get back in the water because the salt would help with the swelling.

So I sat on my board in the shallows, bent in half so I could dip my arm in the water. A dinky little wave came in and I flailed and rolled off the side, then reoriented myself. Another dinky little wave came in and I fell off the back.

Yeah, I’m not so good at that sitting-on-the-board thing yet. What can I say? I’m still a beginner.

Mes Livres

(My Books)

:)

So, that Rumplestiltskin book I was talking about reading a little while back—finally finished it! (A Curse as Dark as Gold, by Elizabeth C Bunce.) It was good, but not mindblowingly spectacular. It deviated from the original story in a way that made it clear that it was still a Rumpelstiltskin story, but still made enough changes to feel fresh.

I just finished Raised by Wolves, by Jennifer Lynn Barnes. That appealed to me more than ACaDaG, even though the writing was obviously for younger readers. The story drew me in, and the main character definitely seemed fifteen. I’d even go so far as to say that she seemed more like a fifteen-year-old than most other fictional fifteen-year-olds. I kept waiting for the main romantic interest to endear himself in some way, but… well, at least it isn’t billed as a romance, because we never got anything more than how much she adored her dearly beloved werewolf boy. She loves him, she loves him, she loves him—I get it, but I never figured out why we were supposed to love him.

The alpha, though—Callum—her relationship with him was fantastic. It was deep and complicated and believable. Her reactions to his actions and decisions and their history together was totally realistic. I ended up liking Callum more than the love interest.

And now I’m reading Lament, by Maggie Stiefvater.

…

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN SO MUCH. She makes me want to tear my hair out sometimes (but not too often, thank god), and I just want to SQUEEE over her books but I’ve been trying SO HARD to contain myself!!!

!!!

I first read her book Shiver (which is another werewolf book) late last year. I was at school at the time, living in a dorm where space is severely limited (especially bookshelf-space), but I liked Shiver so much that I decided I couldn’t part with it (i.e., send it home to San Diego). I kept it on my shelf for the whole year, even though it’s kind of a fatty hardcover. (Think, like, Harry Potter #2 or #3. And yes, that is how I judge how fatty a book is. =P) My FAVORITEFAVORITEFAVORITE bit—and yes, it makes sense within the context of the story, but I don’t want to spoil that part—is the Rilke translation:

“Again and again, however, we know the language of love, and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and the staggeringly secret abyss in which others find their end: again and again the two of us go out under the ancient trees, make our bed again and again between the flowers, face to face with the skies.”

Oh. Mygod. I can say with an uncommon sense of confidence that that’s one of, if not the absolute, BEST pieces of writing I have ever read.

And yes, after finishing Shiver (which was, as you might have gathered, fabulous—I can’t wait for the sequel, Linger, that is coming out in FIVE MORE DAYS), I went online and devoured as many Rilke translations as I could find, and even briefly considered learning German so I could read his original poems.

So Shiver is why I picked up Lament. I started it today. I intended to have a productive day and work on my UK visa paperwork and do some writing, but I should probably have known better. Lament is awesome. I love the characters—all of them. Dierdre is totally realistic in her reactions and mannerisms and the feelings she has when she interacts with Luke. She’s totally relate-able, even though this totally unique thing is happening to her. Luke is badass and still incredibly endearing. And I wish James was my friend. He needs a hug. <3

The only reason I’m writing this right now is because Lament got so intense I couldn’t take it. I had to take a break, mid-chapter, because my mind was going to explode.

And I’m not even halfway through yet. :)

I LOVE MAGGIE STIEFVATER. She’s the latest addition to the list of people authors I want to be like.

…

—Whaaaaaaat is going on!? It just started raining outside!! Rain! In Southern Cali! In JULY???

It must be the end of the world. That’s the only explanation.

Juuuulyyy

I finished my story and got it in on time. :) It’s been about two weeks since the deadline came and went, but I’m still quite pleased with myself. I went to the gym in the morning, did a final read-through and edit, and then submitted it—all before I headed off to work. It was a good day (except for the work part).

Yesterday, I went down to La Jolla Shores and surfed for the first time in a year. Couldn’t find anyone to go with me, so I just went all by myself. I’m pretty terrible, but there were probably three different instances where I managed to stand up (crouch) before the wave ended. The first time I managed it, all I could think was, “Ahhh, so this is why surfers keep at it…”

And this morning, after I got back from the gym, my mom and I got all my housing for next year sorted out and paid off! I’m so glad that’s taken care of—one less thing to worry about, you know? I’ll be living in the largest of the res halls at U of Edinburgh, and will probably be surrounded by first years. It wasn’t my first choice—or second or third, really—but I’ve only heard one bad thing about it (that it’s noisy, since it’s next to a huge street full of bars and clubs). Everyone I’ve talked to who lived there last year had a really fantastic time, so I’m not real worried at all. Ear plugs are such a small investment. ;)