On My Horizon

This is what my horizon looks like this morning. The old 9:30 am sunrise.... not bad at all. What a beautiful day for international travel!

Caleb and I are hopping on the bus in about an hour for Glasgow. From there we will fly to Stockholm, Sweden. We are spending roughly 5 days roaming around Sweden, 3 in Finland (we are taking the overnight ferry from Stockholm to Turku!), a short layover in London, and 5 days in Malta. I am really, ridiculously excited.

In other news, I survived my furniture exam. Here is one of my essay questions:

7. Assess the relationship between William Trotter's furniture and the Edinburgh Cabinet and Chair Makers' Books of Prices, 1805-1825. Cite examples, either vernacular or fashionable, where applicable.

I'm not really sure what to think of it; a lot of the key questions (i.e CHIPPENDALE) just weren't there. Julia and I left the exam in a daze of dissatisfaction and went for drinks... I imagine I passed, but I never really got into that groove where I can zip along and think happily to myself "self, you are RULING this exam." Oh well.

I'll update once I get to London. That is, if my fingers don't freeze and break off in Finland -- it's supposed to be 12 degrees! I will have a chance to thaw out in Malta: yahoo says high of 70. Glorious.

I have to pack and close up my flat! So much to do!

Love and miss you all, and I'll see you on the other side!

On Exams

I've had a lot of people asking what exams at St. Andrews are like. Well, they are hard; extremely rigorous and upwards of three hours long. I wrote 17 pages in my Jane Austen exam, and the blue books here are about two times the size of UNC's. You are not allowed to have anything at your desk except two pens and your matriculation card. I sat my Austen exam in the Old Union; basically a massively ornate lecture hall with floor-to-ceiling windows and neat rows of seats. You are not allowed to go to the bathroom without a proctor, and everyone sits at their bolted-down desk pulling out fistfulls of hair and looking about with faces of abject horror. It really is very stressful.

Because of the way classes are structured at St. Andrews the exams are generally worth around 40-60 percent of the final grade. I only have three other grades in my Austen class (two papers and a presentation), so needless to say exams are kind of a big deal.

But it's nothing I haven't had before. Exams were like this at Asheville School. Last night I felt that old stirring of panic I used to feel walking into a Doc Schmidt US History AP final. I haven't felt that for a long, long time (James Otis! Writs of Assistance!), and frankly, I am glad to revisit the feeling because it means I am finally using my brain to its full capacity after three years of hoop-jumping at UNC.

So, for all of my Asheville School readers, let's go back in time:

I remember in Mr. Hamilton's World History class he would always give the tests at the end of the day, because he wanted to see what you knew, now how fast you could write. After one of those tests it occurred to me that I had just written a 58 page essay. He was also the only teacher I ever had that would ask exam questions like "Explain the progression of history from Babylonian to the Cold War. Be Specific."

The other thing about Mr. Hamilton that always comes to mind was that he would read while we wrote. But he would read something to the tune of ten pages a minute. There was always a lot of speculation about whether he was really reading of looking at magazines tucked behind other books. Wright finally put him to the test when right before we began an exam he stood up and told Hamilton that he did not believe that he was actually reading, gave Hamilton some book dealing with subversive pop culture (one that Wright knew he had not read, Maddona - the material girl or something similar) and told him to read it during the exam and he would be tested on his retention after we were done. Hamilton read it, 300+ pages, and went back the book he had brought for himself. Two hours later Wright produce a sheet of question he had prepared in advance and Hamilton knew all the answers. Dates, relationships, discography, movies, names of pets, all of it.

That was a moment for me. I knew that I was being instructed by people who were passionate about knowledge. It is one of those little things that you never forget, and always appreciate.

Waiting For Hot Water...

I always forget to flip the hot water switch when I wake up so I inevitably have thirty minutes to kill in the morning while I'm waiting for a luxurious hot shower. "How old world" you might say. Well, you would be right.

I thought I might use this precious time to share some photos from Julia's birthday this weekend. Enjoy!

Caleb and I are in training for our two week European trek: Sweden, Norway, Finland, London, and MALTA

I love inside jokes. I would like to be a part of one some day.

At the Thai restaurant with Bill Murray. Seriously, he was downstairs y'all.

Rachel, me, and Caleb at an impossibly trendy bar in town.

Julia, Bridget, Caleb and me. Caleb, apparently, is number one.

Ὀδύσσεια y'all

There was a time when I had my heart set on being a Classics major. That time was brief and ended about two seconds after I took a look at the Greek alphabet. Regardless, I have a special place in my heart for Homer -- so imagine my delight when I read that Gozo, a small island off the coast of Malta, is considered to be Calypso's mythical island from The Odyssey!

If you don't believe me you can read for yourself here.

Every nerdy neuron in my brain went into paroxysms of joy upon discovering this little fact, and I quickly coerced Gwen and Caleb into making an excursion there. Maybe I can meet Nausinous ... or gain immortal life?

The nerd quotient of this post is rising by the second. I better listen to a little Bone Thugz N Harmony and watch some footage of mob violence on youtube. That'll fix'er.

The Scottish Do Not Celebrate Martin Luther King Day

Today, MLK day, I OWNED my Jane Austen exam.

OWNED. OWNED. OWNED.

Also:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY IKE.

It's my dad's birthday today, y'all.

I am fixing dinner for Caleb and Gwen and we are going to plan our trip to MALTA. Did I mention I am going to Malta on January 30th? Hilarious.

Landed

I have hit the ground running in St. Andrews. I spent three hours in the library with Julia this afternoon revising for my Jane Austen class. Let's just say that I am going to rock the face off my exams... kind of like the way I am rocking the face off of this banjo:


Did you like how I transitioned into this bangin' picture? Man. This is the best photo of me taken in a while. Probably ever. The right hand-- it's just a blur! I guess it's safe to say that I am not a finesse player.

Anyways: tomorrow we are going out for Julia's birthday, but besides that little diversion I will be spending the next six days with my head buried in my books. Caleb and I are flying to Sweden on the 19th -- life is grand!

In other news: I was thinking that a good way for me to pick a grad school would be to poll my friends and tally the results. So, we'll start broad. Do you think I should be in the UK or the US?

love
banjo Lauren

Happy and Free: Written Whilst Airborn

I just celebrated my eighth hour of listening to The Avett Brothers with a glass of wine courtesy of Delta Air Lines. I also changed my font size from 12 to 10 in hopes that the man across the aisle from me isn’t reading over my shoulder. Every time the drink cart trundles by he punctuates the following four or five seconds of reprieve with an appreciative brush of my newly-extended knee.

In other news, I just had the opportunity to add “Avett” to my Microsoft word dictionary. Fun facts abound.

Perhaps I should address my return to St. Andrews – my thoughts and feelings? Sure, ok.

Returning to St. Andrews feels like the natural thing for me to do. I have put down roots. AND HOW: I’ve scheduled two exams, a trip to Paxton House with David Jones and Julia, and a foray up North to Sweden, Norway, and Finland with Caleb. And that’s just January. In February I am going to Malta for Gwen’s birthday and following The Avett Brothers around the UK in a caravan of groupie rock. Oh, and, of course, Jamie Gaul is coming to live with me in our flat by the sea which will be five kinds of amazing. March means spring break and a possible trip to Morocco and/or Italy. On top of all of these things I get to take another top-notch furniture class with the best professor I’ve ever had. I get to walk to school every day or to the grocery store or to pick up laundry detergent through medieval cobblestone streets; and when it rains and the stones are slick and wet and the sun hits them from a special slant everything looks exactly right and my heart bursts with happiness and aesthetic glee.

As I packed up my things late last night my mom asked me how it would feel if I was returning to UNC this semester, and honestly I hadn’t really considered it until then. It was a bizarre thought and my first reaction was to be mildly upset. I have the distinct feeling that I’m not through with the UK yet. I’m still just getting settled, actually, and to return to UNC now would be unnatural. I have my low moments, of course, where I feel like everything I gave up to come to Scotland really wasn’t worth it… but all I have to do is think about these next few months and I can’t help but feel a swell of genuine excitement and wonderment at my pure luckiness to live such a life.

My future swings like a pendulum from the end of the next three months. My dad keeps telling me to stop pressuring myself and, hey, take a year off if you need it… but I just can’t. I have to know what is waiting around the corner. It’s not a light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel thing really, because I’m enjoying every moment; it’s more of a suspension of breath in anticipation of adventures to come. Life is a funny thing. I feel so old these days. (Man, 21 is ANCIENT. Just ask Kallin).

And yet, even as I write this, such a large part of me wants to throw it all away and spend the next few months riding a bicycle from the Atlantic to the Pacific. What IS that?

Ok. Crisis. I had two earplugs and now I have three. Which are my original two? I really don’t want to be cramming someone’s used earplug into my own. Gross. Airplanes are the worst.

The airline is playing a video on Cirque de Soleil. Sometimes I feel like if I just had enough time and will-power I could train myself to do anything; like, you know, play the banjo. This feeling stops short when I watch footage of Cirque de Soleil. Seriously. What is going on with these people and their bodies? Ok, here is a girl who appears to be descending from the ceiling suspended from a large pair of wings. I could handle that.

[At this point I fell asleep for a few hours]

There are two types of people on airplanes: people, who, when asleep, need to have a large tarp draped over them and people who don’t. I fall into the former category. I woke up a few minutes ago with my head thrown back and my mouth wide open. Geez.

The sun is rising in the East and I am 31 minutes away from Edinburgh. Scotland mode, go.

Love

Lauren

It Is Impossible To Eat Healthily At the Airport

FYI.

Tucking In: Thoughts at the Atlanta Airport

I'm two hours into my eight hour layover in the venerable Atlanta airport and, well, there is no end in sight. I spent as much time as humanly possible in the nearby Chili's, and having exhausted my concupiscense for soggy french fries and sunrise margaritas I decided it was time to save a little face and move to the terminal. I can't eat in a Chili's anymore without thinking of The Office. Sadly, there were no Dundies handed out and the closest thing to Jim Halpert was my androgynous waiter named-- interestingly-- Hal. I can't look at "Awesome Blossom" on the menu without cracking a huge, goofy smile (Meghan? Can we get an awesome blossom? Extra awesome?).

I've been travelling since 5:45 this morning, a fact which wouldn't bother me so much except that I am not moving any closer to Scotland; I just keep crawling south and west. I feel further away from home now than I do in St. Andrews. People in airports are always staring and wiping their noses, and the fact that I'm carrying a banjo is something that strangers find endlessly entertaining.

[Side note: I bought myself a banjo for Christmas. Turns out it's easier than the mandolin. Who knew? I fancy myself something of a banjo wizard after a week or so, and it is only a matter of time until my uncle and I go on the road as a family band. Anyways, I'm bringing it back to St. Andrews with me. Why? Comedy, I guess, and because the sun sets really early and I've got to have something to do besides read about furniture and apply to grad school... and party like mad, of course.]

Here I am with my sweet new axe:
Ok, maybe not. But close. I got the rhythm.

I'll include this picture as well because it makes me laugh. I'm taking bets on what this fellow's name might be. I'm thinking something along the lines of "Goat" or "Jezebel." Thoughts? Additionally, he might be my dream man:


Running a Google image search for "banjo" is pure comedy gold. Here's one more for good measure:

Nice to meet you, the name's Jezebel.

So anyways, turns out the banjo is a great conversation starter for mentally deranged men at the airport (and it is always men). Examples:

"That's a HUGE tennis raquet! You got some long arms or what?"
"You gonna play us something? How about DELIVERANCE!? Har har har!"
"Damn, banjo! You my banjo girl? You like the banjo-jo?" (admittedly, this one could have been a little different. I'm not sure. It was in passing on the motorized walkway.)
"You can just set yer banjo right thar, hang out a while! I used to tour with Doc Watson, ya know." (At this point I say really? and he says, no, not really, har har har!)

I've got the banjo-jo at my feet now. I'm tempted to pull it out and practice (I've got the FEVAH!) -- but even though I'm in a deserted corner of B terminal I don't want to risk it. There's a guy with a blonde comb-over in a pair of cowboy boots waaaaay over to my left and adding banjo to that mix might be recipe for disaster.

More later.

Happy New Year Y'all

I was in Charlotte, North Carolina with The Avett Brothers getting my face rocked off. I hope all of your New Years Eves were equally as boisterous.

I'll be back in Scotland soon. I am excited.

love