Melissa's Journal

Boys are stupid and a waste of time.

This is of course right after I made him tell me that he lied about past relationships. Again. It's frustrating.

I don't understand what it is with him. At least I admit I care what other people think. About imaging and perception of me. Him? I don't even know how to answer.

At least I didn't lie for a year. More, really. Though in all honestly, I don't feel like I lied at all. Withheld, perhaps. But at the same time, does it count if you can't remember it happening?

Anyways, a recap of my recently:
This weekend was a huge sorority weekend. Friday night was Formal, Saturday was Initiation/setup, and Sunday was Founder's Day in Long Beach, where over 700 trideltas all came together to celebrate the anniversary of our founding. It was kind of strange, but really cool at the same time.

Before this, I had the hugest report of my life due on Thursday (20 pages typed of solid chemistry), and a physics and italian test on Friday.

And then before this, I managed to step on my computer in the middle of the night (I swear, it was totally sober) and break my screen. Thank god it's only a few cracks and black blotches (it's still usable), but it's really quite annoying. And over half the price of my computer to fix.


So adding up all of this, I'm incredibly ready to go home right now. I'm so excited for a long weekend of doing nothing productive. Lately has been better thoughts wise, but really busy.


Bonus: he didn't break up with me. Though in all honesty, he wouldn't have. Not after he made that big of a mistake. I feel like a bad person for taking advantage of that. That it was entirely too self serving. Thoughts?

It’s about school and family. And constant stress and trying not to collapse. It’s about body imaging and binge eating. Of talking to Roth for only five minutes a day, and searching for another outlet. Another outlet for everything. It’s deep, severe depression. The kind that never goes away. That’s all consuming. It’s about the future with the juxtaposition of barely being able to wake up in the morning. It’s about what I want and how I almost refuse to know.

Except that I want this to stop.

I’m so tried of everything. The signs are there. The constant sleeping and eating, the apathy. The wish for something more. Or else. Will it be like this when I flash forward? Because we all know this is the entirety of the past.

I was driving last night and I started listing out everything that was wrong. Why it was wrong. I started bawling uncontrollably and prayed for someone to just hit me. To get it over with. I really, truly for the first time wanted it. And then I just cried harder.

And at the same time, once that happens, I can't get attached to anything else.

I'm starting my third year of living in San Diego, and I couldn't care less. All I want to do is go home. What's funny though, is that I've been here half as long as what I consider home to be.

I miss Roth, though sometimes, a lot of the times, I miss old loves more. Sometimes I wonder if I can feel anything at all. And then sometimes I wonder what that makes me to say it anyways.

I have friendships here, and sometimes I wonder if they compare. Though in all honestly, the differences are overwhelming, and I feel like I put a more positive tint on things lost in memory.

I'm starting to miss the sun. I dread each sunset. The times in between.

It's that cycle, you know? I feel it here. The sleeping too much, the wasting away, the unproductively.

And still, after a year, he can't even say it?


For alas, it's always body image anyways, right?

1. RUSH
2. Sorority gift making
3. Rush Pt. II
4. Me wanting to drop the sorority/being convinced not to
5. A lot of crying
6. More gift making

7. My 1 year anniversary! (The official one)
8. Roth visiting!
9. Seeing fireworks with him at PB
10. A nude Melissa at a nude beach with a nude boy 0.0;; oh my!

11. More sorority crap
12. Making Little Sister presents
13. Trying to catch up on school

14. Breast Cancer walk tomorrow.
15. A million labs due this week/tests

God damn it. I friggin hate boy dependent Melissa. What's my problem anyways? He should be going out. I shouldn't expect him to be waiting for me.

So where does that leave me? I hate that answer.

DDD is making me deactivate facebook until October 6th when Rush is over (which is technically my one year anniversary with Rothy).

So there we have it! Two big events in a single sentence.

If you'd like to get ahold of me, email.

I'm finding I don't know what relates to me anymore.

My first week of being back from Europe was spent in severe jet-lag. I couldn't stay awake past 8pm, and then of course woke up at 4am and roamed the house until the sun rose. Rothy was not pleased.

Let's back step though, shall we?

When I got home the initial night Roth was waiting in my room with flowers. Sweet, no?

The next morning me and Ivey lazed around for the first time in forever, and then went to the park with Roth and ended up falling asleep on the grass for what felt like a long time.

Monday I took her to San Francisco with Henry, he met us there, and we did the traditional SF touristy stuff that I had forgotten about. The Wharf, Pier 39, Union Square, the Goldengate Bridge... I was kind of at a loss for ideas. I feel like I hadn't done any of it since I was 10 years old. But all the same, I had a lot of fun.

That night we stayed in Davis with Becki, ate at Davis Noodle City, and then went and had crepes for breakfast the following morning. I dropped Ivey off at the airport after, and then headed back to Davis to stay with Roth for a few days. It was good.

The week after Ivey left me and Roth celebrated what I think of as our one year anniversary (he thinks it's Oct. 6th): we went to watch the Perseid Meteor shower at Lake Almanore. It was a lot of fun... we played house for 3 days, kayaked and saw shooting stars.

The following week, which puts us up to last week, I continued my thread of outdoorsness and rafted down the south forth of the American River (Class II and III) and went wake boarding. The latter of which was my first time, and I was given the award of best first timer over the boys. Rothy couldn't get up at all, which I think bothered him--mostly because I did.

The day after, Friday, I went to Tahoe for two days with my parents to look at houses to buy in Incline Village for them. Basically, it was two days of looking at dream houses for me;I've always wanted to live there. Always. It was absolutely fantastic! Sunday morning me and my dad had breakfast at the hotel (my mom was a terror the night before and wouldn't come/wasn't invited), and actually had a good conversation for once. We went and looked at more houses after we checked out, and then went shopping in South Shore before going to Carson City and to Reno. My dad bought me the cutest pair of suede lace-up high heels ever!

Sunday I met up with Danny Boy, and then had my first few lazy days since being back.

Then I think this Tuesday was when me and my mom went to Santa Rosa to visit Kenna and see her new apartment. I even bought new jeans! Which doesn't sound that exciting, but since being back in the US, I've been to 3 outlet malls looking for my old pair, called up every other one in California, and after having no luck there, went into every store that had a possibility of selling them to try and find a new pair with a mid-rise cut. Which let me tell you, exists nowhere. So yes, this finding was grand.

On the way back from Santa Rosa we stopped in Napa and went to a farmer's market that we found. We even bought hummus!

Since then I've spent the past two days working at the radio station KHITS in Sacramento as a replacement for their secretary who is out of town. Most. Boring. Job. Ever. It's 8 hours of facebook viewing.

Projects lately:
~Jean hunt (After many days and many hours devoted to the quest, I have found a pair)
~Housing hunt (Two applications filled out, with one accepted. I'm absolutely dreading moving there. I really don't like the place all. Good location though... so whatever. It's only 2 years).
~Internet setting up (Roth helped, so everything is bought and shipping).
~Roth viewing (we spent almost every night together).
~Bid-day gifts (Ahhh!!! So much sorority stuff to do and projects to complete. Very on-going...)

Um. Other things worth noting:
~I spilled a whole bottle of nail polish on my only pair of shorts. I have a whole in the thigh on my only pair of jeans. PEOPLE: OWN MORE THAN ONE PAIR OF JEANS/SHORTS. LEARN FROM MY MISTAKES!
~I'm really smitten right now. I keep tearing up whenever I think of having to go back to school and only seeing him once a month or more.

Alright everyone, all of my journaling from Europe is posted.

I feel like by reading it all over again, I realize that my writing sucks, has for awhile now, and that I totally was in the spaciest mind set ever. But it's okay. It was a great trip, and I had the most fun of my life.

Hopefully my writing will get better. I feel like I need to stop writing here how I speak in person. Seriously.

It must be noted: Rome is friggin hot. Period. It’s like… California on a 114 degree day, while wearing a giant wool jacket and ugg boots, and hauling a 50 lb. bag up three flights of stairs. Seriously. The humidity is awful, and I’m not used to being so close to the Equator.

However, for the first time in my life I have actual pigment in my skin.

Sunday after getting off the train, me, Ivey and Becky immediately went to go see the Coliseum and the Roman Forum. It was everything I had expected and more. Except for the heat. (I had to throw that in there). But yes, I had an absolute blast. It was so cool walking around, seeing where the stadium would have flooded…. Walking up the gigantic staircases. I could totally imagine gladiators running around with swords in their hands, lions tackling martyrs, drunken men leaving and falling down because of how steep and slippery the stairs were. It was great fun. As for the Forum, I didn’t get a lot of it. We couldn’t figure out where we were half the time, or why each part was important. But it was really cool seeing so many ruins and how buildings crumble over the course of centuries. I think we actually saw Circus Maximus that day too, but the signs were really confusing so we don’t know for sure. So much for learning Italian! That night we went on a walking tour of the city with our guide, which was very beautiful, and had some of the most amazing gelato ever.

Monday we went on a bus tour after class, which was pretty lame, and after me and Becky went shopping down the Via di Corso. Not having any luck, we got on the metro and stopped at every stop on the way back! It was super random, but it was actually one of my best nights yet. We ended up seeing the Spanish Steps and all of the designer stores nearby, and the Trevi Fountain via darkness. The latter of which was amazing, and was only made better by the crepe I had in hand. We each threw our coin in the fountain, wishing for the same thing, and then ran back to the metro after being followed by a really creepy guy. When we got there I realized I had forgotten to take my birth control for a few days, so I started popping pills. Right as that happened, a huge gaggle of nuns arrived and they started signing and dancing and doing this line thing. I’m so going to hell. Anyways, me and Becky started dancing and clapping with them, and then we talked to one on the actual train back to our hotel (which is actually a school).

Tuesday I ended up going on a pub crawl in the evening, which included going to three different bars and a final club. It was a complete blast, I spent way too much money on alcohol and danced the entire night, some of which was on tables and outcoves. I blame Becky.

Wednesday we went to the Vatican, which was absolutely stunning! We walked through countless halls and courtyards, and I saw more sculptures in each single room than I ever had in my life. The halls connecting each chamber were incredibly long and the frescos on the ceilings were awe-inspiring. As for the Sistine Chapel, I was severely underwhelmed. It was actually pretty sad; I was expecting more—something larger. Really… I was expecting one single fresco--not many of different scenes on Genesis. So I suppose I wish I knew prior. After I went to Roma Due, the biggest mall in Europe, and oce again, I had no luck finding anything and ended up just going home. An off day, but it was still okay.

Today one of my teachers took the class on a walking tour of Rome. We went to a cemetery where there was a pyramid built, to the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, and some Square that I can’t quite remember the name of. It was fun, but was a seriously long day. The heat really knocks you out. I feel like I drink liters upon liters of water every single day, to the point where I can’t even more, and I’m always still parched.

I feel like when it comes to Rome, everything is water based. There are fountains everywhere, with spouts for water bottle fill ups every hundred feet or so. And it’s cold!! It’s probably my favorite part about the city. Anyways...

Likes about Rome:
1) There are ancient ruins EVERYWHERE.
2) That every monument I’ve gone to I’ve wanted to see since I was ten.
3) There are waterspouts everywhere for fill ups.
4) I can finally eat, and enjoy what I’m eating.
5) The gelato is amazing!

Dislikes about Rome:
1) The HEAT!
2) The Metro stops are really far removed from the city.
3) My Italian isn’t as good as I would have hoped.
4) I have had entirely no luck with shopping.
5) Every piece of art everywhere depicts some kind of Catholic setting. I’m over the apostles/the Virgin Mary/random martyrs.
6) Michael Angelo is getting on my nerves. Weren’t there other artists in Italy at some point?
7) The gelato is amazing! Haha.
8) There are no crepes anywhere. Damn Paris and new addictions!

Saturday we took a day trip to Switzerland (though sadly I must say that no passport stamp was received ;_;)! We stopped in the middle of the mountains for lunch, and as a class sat on a gigantic rock to eat. After, we went into fairy caves as a group (seriously, the Grand Tour is a cave trip. It was my third one this month!), then split up and went to a Picasso and Courbet museum entirely by random, and had the best and cheapest dinner ever with Becky (25 euro for a huge pizza, 2 beers, and 2 desserts).

The midnight train to Rome was friggin brutal, and we were lucky to have engineers in our cabin, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to fit 6 people and 6 suitcases (each the size of a baby elephant) inside. Ugggh. And it was hot. And people were complaining. And me and Becky weren’t able to drink the beers I bought. Sad. Oh well… I was at least able to sleep. I was one of the few lucky ones. And it really wasn’t as bad as the complaining made it out to be. We just started off in a bad mood due to size.

Last Tuesday I left Paris and traveled by train to the French Alps. Spending three and a half days there, I completely fell in love. Everything was so large, so beautiful, and it had the most chaotic weather. The only place I could think of comparing it to is Tahoe, but even that is.... is miniscule in comparison. Everything was larger than anything imaginable. It was just… lovely.

I felt really amazing, too. At peace, almost. But considering all the strains of traveling (homesickness, Rothy, rooming with people and tensions, being sick), I feel like I really needed that break and that I wouldn’t have appreciated another city immediately after the previous two.

It was actually a complete blast too! Wednesday we explored ice caves in Chamounix, Thursday I was able to sit back and relax, do laundry for the first time in 15 days and catch up on sleep, and Friday I went zip lining!!

As for zip lining, it was the craziest, most fun experience of my life. We were rope-walking, rock climbing, pulling ourselves up on nets… all sorts of crazy outdoorsy stuff I never thought I could do. In fact, it was the first time I’ve ever made it up an entire rock wall. My favorite part was when I got to the end of each section (there were 8), you I jumped off the platform and seemed to fly. Or so it felt like.

The first time I was actually pretty nervous. The ledge was extremely high and I didn’t know how I felt about the ropes that were holding me up: I was worried that I would fall. But oh god did I shriek once I jumped off, which then turned to mad cackling seconds later, which then turned to laughing so hard that I couldn’t breathe as I landed on my butt in a pile of gravel. By the end of the day, I was jumping off those platforms like I would walk down a flight of stairs. It was as if I wasn’t about to fall hundreds of feet and then skid across a loose gravel-landing floor.

My favorite jump actually wasn’t a zip line though. Instead of clipping the carabineer from your harness to the rope above you that connected the top of the platform to the ground, you attached one to your harness in front of you from a hanging rope. The guides called it the “Tarzan” jump. So as you stepped off the platform, you dropped straight down for what seemed like 30 seconds before your harness caught you and threw you into a rope net. AMAZING! I was all smiles the entire day.

Last Saturday I went to the Parisian catacombs with Ivey, Becky, Andrew, Kathryn and Lisa. We had woken up extremely and ungodly early so that we could be all the way across town at 9am (we had to be waiting in line for them to open because the tour schedule is super sporadic and everyone wants to see them). And honestly, we were very lucky to have them be open at all while we were in Paris, so I wasn’t complaining (that much) about waiting up early on one of my only days off for the entire trip. See! No complaining here!

The catacombs were absolutely incredible. The first part was compiled of damp tunnels that were really cold, and after walking for about a mile, I felt like we weren’t going to see any bodies at all. Of course, it was then that we saw the signs welcoming us to the land of the dead in French and something along the lines of paying your respect to the keepers of the underworld. It was eerie, but so incredibly neat. Does that make me morbid?

At the beginning of seeing the skeletons it was really cool. I had imagined seeing entire bodies laid to rest on pews, maybe even communally with family members. Instead, there were only skulls, arms and legs bones. And they were all laid in stacks, row after row, million after million. It got really creepy after awhile. I started shivering, and I couldn’t figure out if it was because I was cold or not. Which was weird, because I’ve never taken myself to be that kind of person.The bones were even arranged in forms of artwork. Some skulls were mounted to depict a heart, others an archway with a cross in the center. It felt like a bit of ironic humor.

After coming out of the catacombs (we were even searched to make sure we didn’t take any bones), Lisa and I went to lunch and then to the Louvre.

As soon as we walked in the doors Lisa and I split up, and I started wandering through to find the Egyptian sections. It was really the only part of the museum that I –had- to see, Napoleon did pillage the greatest collection of Egyptian history in the world after all, and it took me forever to find. The layout of the museum itself drove me absolutely crazy, and covered such an expanse that once you were lost, you were lost for about an hour. Seriously. However, I did find it, and after going through it once, I went back again feeling like I had missed things. I thought the statue of Ramses II was going to be much greater than it was, the famous “I am Ozymandeus, king of kings…”, and was disappointed to find it was something I had already seen. However, I also saw the Venus di Milo which was much larger than I expected, and also the Code of Hammurabi, which was so freaking cool!!

After, I found myself wandering through rooms of Greek and Roman statues, and using my audio guide, I learned about a statue of Diana and how it was known as the Diana of Versailles, made popular by Louis XIV. There were two of them in these rooms, in different colors of marble, which I found to be hilarious, and I had already seen it in Versailles….basically, there were many copies of this statue, and I find it ironic that I picked up on it. I also saw the most amazing painted room dedicated to Louis XIV, and then the Mona Lisa, which was larger than I had expected (everyone I know who has seen it has always commented on how miniscule it is, and I was expecting something the size of a shoe box). Then that night I went to an Absinthe Bar and did the traditional ritual, though I found it not to be as good when drinking it undiluted.

The following morning I got up and went to the Hard Rock Café with Ivey, Kathryn and Ashley. Ashley had really wanted to go because it’s a tradition of hers, and I was hardcore craving an American salad. So I had one it was the most incredible meals in Europe ever (eating here sucks as a cheese hating vegetarian).

After I went to the Musee d’Orsay and fell in love. I absolutely enjoyed it much more than the Louvre: it was much easier to navigate and each section felt more cohesive. I found that I really enjoy Edgar Degas, whom I had found to be rather ordinary before—his sculpture of the dancer was beautifully done. I found Toulouse to be very… creepy almost. And then the Manet’s and Monet’s were fabulous, some even provocative, and I loved seeing Monet’s different versions of the Cathedral. Gustave Courbet however was my all time favorite. He was absolutely incredible, and entirely awe-worthy. I felt like some of his paintings were absolutely revolutionary for their time period. Can anyone guess?

I think that entire museum exceeded my expectations (even after hearing before that it was fabulous), and I loved seeing so many painters that I recognized and the works made by them that changed the way art was created. I loved seeing other works by these artists too, what else they had done in their lives, and of finding new artists who I really admire and appreciate.

(Hahah... can anyone here tell that this journaling is sooo a class project? I'm sorry.)

Next up: End of Paris, train ride to the Alps, ice caves and missing Rothy.

For the first time in my life I’m finding myself truly angry. I’m upset with how I’m treated here, and even more upset that I’ve been apologizing for who I am. I feel like there shouldn’t be any shame in being an American. And more so, I feel like by being one, I do not deserve to be treated as sub-human. That my nationality does not imply inferiority.

I feel like as a tourist, everywhere I go, I go with the intention of spending money, and not a small sum of it either. I want to spend money, buy things, support Parisian shops and restaurants. I feel like Americans like myself play a critical role in France’s economy, and whatever reasons they have for hating us and for treating us so horribly they need to friggin get over. Period. At the same time, let it be noted that I’m not asking to be doted on or praised for being here. I would be completely happy with being ignored.

I’m tired of the French men on the street harassing me, and of them being even shrewder when they can tell I don’t understand. I’m tired of the comments, and of going in to stores and being made fun of. I’m tired of people not wanting to serve me or help me because of how I look (obviously American, which I would probably put into the category of Californian because of my bleached hair and flip flops), and because my French accent sucks. I’m trying!! I really really am. I always speak in French whenever possible. I’m always gracious. I’m always entirely polite.

So god… just stop it.

At this point in time I want to state that not all men or patrons are like this. And especially in the more expensive stores that I could never afford. There the women love talking to me, and they find my knowledge of French amazing. Which is kind of hilarious, because they totally just want me to spend money, even if they are acting sincere.

As for boys, on two separate occasions I have looked lost and have had a man come up to me and help me with directions. However, both times they had to lead me in the entirely wrong direction so they could talk to me longer, and then go to a park.

The first time this happened, he said he needed a pen and took me out of the metro station and to go sit in the Luxembourg Gardens with him as he showed me magic tricks (I swear to god). What I found incredibly strange however was how he kept wanting to talk about American politics and how he kept stating that he loved America and the freedom it gave us, whereas France was really oppressive and conservative. I feel like this is exactly the opposite of anything I had expected to here in Paris.

The second time the boy didn’t want to help me directions at all! He started by asking if I needed help in English, and I replied with, “Is it that obvious that I speak English?” And he replied with, “No… I’m not French either.” I was really relieved to find someone who spoke English, and asked if he can help me with directions. He said he could try but didn’t really know, and that he had only stopped me because he wanted to talk to me. Oh god. But it was fine. His name was Damien and he was from Mexico. He did his undergrad work at Cal and was getting his doctorate in physics at Cambridge. So he took me to the absolute farthest station possible (I know because I was looking at the map and was only having problems orienting which museum was to the left and right), and right across the Tulleries Gardens. What is it with men in France and gardens? Leaving, he looked awkward for a second before seeming to make a decision, and then kissed me on the cheek.

I wish I could say that I really enjoyed the boast ride across the Seine. I’ve been so incredibly sick these past few weeks that I’m always miserable. And I feel like that’s no way to experience Paris. Or London. Or my Europe experience in general.

Thursday however was one of my favorite days ever. I went on a field trip to Versailles, and experienced absolute awe. Louis XIV really… he’s immortal in my eyes. He’s just, the perfectly preserved despot. His palace is beautiful. It’s striking. More than that, it’s intimidating. The meters and meters of white gravel surrounding all sides of it make the palace painful to look at when the sun shines down as it did the day of my visit, and I feel like it kind of puts you in your place. It showed me I didn’t really belong there. Which was humbling. I feel like I’m in love with Louis. Everything about him. I’m sure he was too.

The hall of mirrors was beautiful, Marie Antoinette’s bedchamber was fabulous, and all of the decorations weren’t as over the top as I had imagined them to be. I felt like whereas the indoors of the palace were a lot smaller than I had expected, the exterior was as massive as a building could possible be and more. As for the Trianon, I fell in love. The little houses were perfectly quaint, a picturesque ideal… completely self-sufficient and romantic, and perhaps it’s true that they’re more beautiful uninhabited than inhabited, as it’s more of a preserved fairytale. I remember that I spent close to half an hour right near them, sitting under a tree near the edge of the lake reflecting. I feel like that’s something I would love to have for myself. Something tiny, remote, something all mine that I could share with a man I was passionately in love with.

That night I went to see Harry Potter VI, which was a terrible excuse for a movie. I found the acting deplorable, and the script even worse. (And no, I’m not comparing it to the book….I can’t even remember most of it. From a strictly cinematic perspective, it sucked).

The following day I had my second in class essay, I’m not so sure I followed the prompt, and then spent the day traveling the city alone. Which actually, was really nice, and I’m starting to wish I had done it the whole time. I was amazingly productive, much more than I have so far in Europe, touring both St. Chapelle and Notre Dame (I know I use the word –love–a lot lately, but I LOVE gothic architecture [and gargoyles]). Right next door was the building in which Marie Antoinette spend the last few months of her life imprisoned, so I looked at that, had lunch, and after went shopping, buying the cutest shirt ever for 13 Euro and a scarf for 6.

I’ve been spending so much money and I feel really bad about it. However, I would say 95% of it has been on inedible food and excursions like church viewing. Maybe more.

The Eurostar train journey to Paris went by really fast. I feel like as soon as I finished journaling and taking a small nap, I was there. Navigating the metro to the hotel was super easy, and the only thing disappointing about that night was that it was a Sunday and nothing was open.

Monday was the first day of class in Paris, and our TA dude Andrew (I don’t see him as a superior… he goes out to pubs and drinks with us, and is only 2 years older) got us lost for half an hour. But it was cool, because the streets of Paris are beautiful, and though similar to London, are different in the way that all of the buildings look exactly the same. I felt really really sick all of that morning, and ended up going home right after class (I went to the pharmacy and ordered cough medicine in French on the way back). That night I went on a bus tour of Paris, which wasn’t as cool as the tour in London… we couldn’t get out as much, the guide wasn’t as forthcoming with random facts, and she kind of seemed like she wanted it to be over the entire time. I was able to get some pictures of me in front of the Eiffel Tower though. After the tour we went to a French restaurant as a group, and I discovered that like London, Paris is not a vegetarian friendly city. Quel dommage.

Tuesday I was still feeling really sick. Really really sick. (It’s been bad in Paris). However, I felt bad that I was spending all of my time in hotels napping, so I went to a café for lunch overlooking the Pantheon. -After- I went home and rested so I could go out that night (but at least I did something during the day, right?). My main reason for going out when I shouldn’t have was that it was Bastille Day and I felt like I would regret not going to see the fireworks over the Eiffel Tower. This holiday is a huge deal here, and there would have been over one million people on that lawn celebrating the festivities. I didn’t want to miss that. So I went, and I was fine, and I’m really glad I made that decision.

My night was a lot of fun. We met other Americans, ate really good and inexpensive pasta, walked through crowds of thousands, and bought a lot of wine to celebrate. In fact, I feel like only Americans brought alcohol to the event at all. At least in that excess. At parts I was really embarrassed because the people I was with and around me were being so LOUD. The fireworks were brilliant, and they also did a light show on the tower itself. After was beyond crazy… many metro stations were closed, and we had to walk a very long time to find one that was usable. What’s worse was that I was pretty much the only sober person there, and I became head navigator lady. But it was fine; I got us home in record time, and was then worried because it took Ivey another 30 minutes to walk through our hotel door.

Today was another long day. After class I went to a Greek restaurant for lunch with other Davis students in a different program than us. After I went to Notre Dame and to Le Sacre Coure, one of the best views I’ve ever seen. It’s a very old church that overlooks all of Paris, and though it took one thousand plus steps to get all the way up (it’s located on the hugest hill of my life), it was fabulous. The very was breathtaking, the architecture was amazing, and the gargoyles were friggin fantastic!

It was then that my day got sketchy. I figured that since we were super close, we had to go to the Moulin Rogue. However, it’s in the Red Light District, and I discovered that it’s named so for a reason.

Comments that were throw at me: “You are very sexy. You have very nice breast.” As in one? Which one exactly? What do I say? Thank you?

“You are girlfriends?” Yeah. “You are lesbians?” Um… no...

Um. Yes. So we found it, took a picture, and then started to look for the erotica museum we were told to go see by the other Davis students. We looked really hard, but then became so sketched out by the area that we just left. There were too many old, creepy men. And they were leering, and really, I was getting scared. It was a good decision on our part. Really.

So now I’m waiting in the hotel before going to dinner, and then on an evening boat ride across the Seine.

Thursday wasn’t that exciting of a day. Class was kind of fun: we wrote our first essay and then our professor had one of his friends and colleague from Oxford come and teach us acting skills. After, a group of us went to China Town for lunch (it was terrible, again) and I spent my third afternoon in a row at the hotel trying to recuperate. Which was actually fine, because I was able to clean, nap, and catch up on photo backing up.

Then on Friday our professor took us to his alma mater, Oxford, and showed us around the different campuses. There are 35 of them, and basically run like the Harry Potter schooling system. Apparently Rowling adopted them from here… there’s even a Slytherin-like school! Anyways, I digress. The campus itself was gorgeous, and it made me feel like I could be an exceptional student there. I feel like I don’t care at UCSD. We were even given a tour of a library by a librarian, which is supposedly a very rare occurrence and we were very privileged to have experienced it.

After our tour we went punting on the river, which was the most hilarious thing ever. It’s pretty much like a long kayak… except instead of all persons rowing with oars, a single person stands on the back deck with a large metal pole and pushes off the ground with it to go forward. Of everyone who steered, my group told me I was the best at it initially. Of course it was then that the pole got stuck in the mud and I lost it, and we had to paddle with our hands to retrieve it again. But it was so funny… I fell over I was laughing so hard. So yes, we punted up the river, played old 80’s music on my iPhone, and then docked to go to a pub to have cider after about an hour and a half. Sooo fun. It was one of the most amazing things I had experienced in my trip so far. And who would have thought someone as unathletic as me would enjoy it?

Saturday, too, was absolutely fantastic! Me, Becky, Lisa and Jen booked a trip to Windsor Castle, Bath and Stonehenge! Oh. My. God. Every single part was incredible.

The first leg of our bus trip was to Windsor Castle, and our tour guide told us about how William the Conqueror built it around 1100 AD. The story is that he joined in the battle with other princes for reign over England, won, and then built the Tower of London as his central headquarters. From there, he built 9 other castles, one of which is Windsor, in a perfect, equidistant circle that was 25 miles from the center of London. The reason, you may ask? Because the Romans said that an army could march exactly 25 miles in one day—and in this day, Rome was the wikipedia of the present. So anyways, these 9 castles became his means of protection for maintaining his crown, and it turned out to be an excellent battle strategy in later years. From here, many many years pass and along comes the English civil war. George Cromwell takes over, and to protect his reign, he destroys 8 of the 9 castles, leaving only Windsor standing so he could use it as a military and political prison. So there we have it! Other fun facts: Windsor Castle is the absolute oldest castle in Europe, and it’s also the largest: the buildings themselves include over 13 acres. None of that includes gardens, lakes, hunting grounds…etc. Also, we learned that it’s the weekend home of the Queen and that every Friday afternoon she leaves for there from Buckingham Palace, returning Monday afternoon (hence, I was at her home when she was most likely present on two separate occasions in two separate locations).

The only thing I can really say about being there was that it was incredibly gorgeous. Also, I saw the grave of Henry VIII! He’s buried in the middle of the Windsor Castle Cathedral floor with Jane Seymour and one of Queen Anne’s infant children along with someone else who I didn’t recognize and therefore didn’t see as important.

The city of Bath was probably my favorite town that I’ve ever seen. It was perfectly beautiful, incredibly quaint, and was actually built by Julius Caesar in… hmm… maybe 55BC. He had problems keeping his Mediterranean troops healthy in the British winters (examples: diets had to change from light salads to incredibly intensive meat-centered meals, and there was a complete lack of Vitamin D which made troops disheartened and ill), and then heard rumors that there was a single hot spring in Britain that pumped out hundreds of thousands of water each day at temperatures of 120 degrees Celsius. Naturally, the place that held this hot spring became a city almost overnight, Bath, and then became an incredibly important asset to the Roman Empire.

Other facts that I learned on this trip was that “British” originally derived from words meaning painted people, as the indigenous people would go into battle against the Romans completely naked and painted blue. Once it was conquered, the first thing that gave Rome incentive to keep Britain was the huge economic worth of its red heads. In essence, the Romans would kidnap them and sell them in slave markets back in Rome, and it was considered to be a mark of extreme wealth and class to have one serving meals at your table.

So…yes. Bath (pronounced Bar-th by the Queen [and what she says goes]) was incredibly beautiful. The ancient Roman baths had been excavated in the Victorian era, and it was very entertaining it go through them and explore. Some of the rooms were left exactly how they were, and you were crawling over rubble to get into them… I felt like I was on my own excavation! It was very fun. However, I did lose many pounds at the gift shop. I mean, if you’re in Bath, you need to buy bath products, right?

The last part of my journey was to Stonehenge, and the bus trip was spent being told of many different reasons for why it could have been built and what it was used for. We also were told a few ‘fact’s (we can’t really know since it was 5000 years ago), such as that it was built in 3500 BC and that it took 200 years to complete, with the math alone taking10 years. Really, it’s all very complex and I find it inconceivable that the feat was managed. In my opinion… I just don’t know—the why’s and how’s seem to be an absolute mystery. It could be everything scholars have decided thus far, and it could equally be nothing. And for that reason I love it.

My trip to Stonehenge was the most magical experience of my life. I can’t even put it to words. It was beautiful and mystical and the weather made it the most perfect setting imaginable. It started raining hard as soon we got there, and that combined with the strong winds… it was as if the stones were calling. It was enchanting, and it drew me into the deepest depths.

Leaving, she told us how the Druids had recently claimed in as a marker, and that every midsummer’s thousands upon thousands of them will come and watch the sun rise.

Of which, I wish to put on my “20 things in the next 20 ” list that Becky gave me inspiration for yesterday. It’s supposed to be a list of 20 things that you’ve always wanted to do, and you make it on your 20th birthday and see if it’ll give definition for your next two decades. It’s supposed to be a kind of promise to yourself, and a way to defy the ordinary.

Mine so far includes…
1) Travel to Burning Man
2) Go to Stonehenge at Midsummer’s
3) Visit the Pyramids and the temple complex at Karnak

So that leaves me at today. I’m currently on the Eurostar train traveling 100+ miles an hour to Paris from St. Pancras station in London. Am I nervous? I don’t know.

I feel like when it comes to France, I don’t quite know what to expect. I remember a little of the language from the two years I studied in high school, but it’s not enough to hold a conversation. And at this point, I’ve lost so much that whereas I can usually understand parts, I can’t think of words or phrase sentences. So speaking will be difficult for me, and I’m nervous that that will make it difficult for me to travel and to get directions. I’ve heard that the French, especially Parisians, are very elitist, and that to speak with them in any way, it must be in their tongue with a perfect accent (which I do not have!). So we’ll see. I don’t want to be the American who gets yelled at or who seems utterly incompetent. Also, I’m kind of worried about the men there and of getting lewd remarks thrown at me. More so, I’m worried about grabbing, which is what my professor said would happen. However, I’ve been warned about Italian men by my teacher back at UCSD, so I figure I’ll throw the French in that category and see what happens. But at least with Italian I know the language!

As far as excitements go, I can NOT wait to go to the Musee d’Orsay and to the Louvre. I really appreciate art even though I feel like forgotten a lot of the why’s behind each individual painting, but as far as the history goes, I know a lot about which movement sought to accomplish what and what critics thought about it in the day. Also, I’m really excited about seeing the Eiffel Tower and maybe to go lingerie shopping. Past that, I can’t really think of anything else that I –have- to see… I can’t remember if Paris is as centered as London is around historical landmarks and monuments. Versailles will be amazing though; I figure that will probably be my favorite day. Also! Harry Potter comes out this week!! I absolutely cannot wait to go see that, and hope to do so at midnight opening night if possible. Ahh!!! Harry Potter madness continues!

I have been so incredibly sick. Yesterday after class I came directly home and napped for hours, and just barely made it out of bed to go see A Midsummer’s Night Dream at the Globe Theater at 7:30pm. It rained a little bit, so I was so incredibly glad that we paid more for the covered benched seating. As for the theater itself, it was –spectacular–! It was so cool for me to go see where these plays would have been played (even though the original burned down), and it was super cool talking to the attendants about the happenings there. What surprised me was that the theater was really really small. Watching it in Shakespeare in Love, I felt like it would have been a lot bigger… but that’s camera angles for you I guess. The acting was spectacular, and though this isn’t my favorite of Shakepeare’s plays (why is it always this one that we have to study??), the actors twisted it into something funnier than I had ever experienced with it. They would pause scenes, go into the pit and interact with the plebes, even crawling on stage or performing entirely inappropriate and beyond lewd gestures. The audience was always roaring with laughter. It was a great show! I loved it. I beyond loved it. And then after, Ivey and me walked back to our hotel via the coast of the Thames River, which was absolutely majestic. It was my first time seeing London by night, and all of the lights made the city look more beautiful then than I had ever seen it during the day.

Today I went to class again and wrote an essay about my experiences last night at the play, and then walked over the Waterloo Bridge to have lunch in China Town. Food here is against me. I tell you. There’s nothing vegetarian, and then if by some miracle there is, it’s entirely inedible. I imagine I’ll come back to the States having lost a large amount of weight. The only thing I eat here is fruit, and only that because I need the vitamin C because of this whole cold thing. I suppose I’m really spoiled by living in California. All of the fruits and vegetables are delicious year round, and are pretty inexpensive. Here it’s top dollar for something mediocre at best. End rant.

So yes, after that I took the tube back to the hotel and I hope to sleep for a few hours. I’m really sad that I’ve had to take two days off because I feel so horribly. I just… I want to be better. Hopefully this will help and I can start going to see different sites again.

Other things I’ve been wanting to mention…

City navigation: I’m the kind of person who just goes. I don’t go out with an object in mind or place to go to. Or even a means. I see where I end up, and if I need to go somewhere, I ask people. Which here is really fun, although it drives Ivey crazy. She wants to know the exact how, purpose, and that no matter what we’ll promptly be there 10 minutes ahead of schedule. Which drives me nuts. Anyways, by my means of travel I’ve found natives here to be really helpful. It probably helps that I’m really polite and that I smile a lot…but people seem genuinely pleased to help me, and are really nice about it. I remember me and Becky were at a tube station on Tuesday and asked a man how to get to Harrod’s (the largest and most expensive shopping store here… it covers multiple blocks), and he really tried to think about it, but couldn’t figure it out. So we thanked him, and then looked for a woman who looked like she liked to shop. Behold! There were two ladies gossiping really loudly with bags in their hands, so we went over, their eyes beamed up, and gave us the quickest directions to a place we have gotten yet. It was awesome, and so incredibly funny.

It’s true though. If someone in America wanted to get to a mall, I could direct him or her easily. But if he or she wanted to get to a fishing store, I would have to look it up.

Accents: I feel like they hate American’s here. Natives that is. Like, they won’t show it obviously, but I feel like as a nation we have a really bad stereotype and that we annoy them here. So I find myself not wanting to speak because they’ll know I’m not from here and will treat me differently. When I’m walking alone and quiet I’m never looked at or bumped into. I’m treated how everyone else is. But if I’m in a large group of girls from this tour and speaking, people won’t mind knocking into you or giving you a look that screams “She’s annoying!”, when really, I’m not even that loud to begin with. Especially when I have such a low immune system. So there you go. Maybe it’s irrational, but I’m speaking very little in public.

However, I do like how British people speak here. Phrases like “Mind the gap” are heard daily, and a child speaking is heart melting. A boy yesterday said “Great show!” at the end of the play when talking to his mother, which was absolutely adorable. He sounded so grown up, but was like…six years old. And though that sounds lame in a Californian accent, here it sounds regal and as if he were a complete grown up. Also, when we went to King’s Cross Station to get our Harry Potter fix, Becky, having not read Harry Potter (a cardinal sin, I know), took a picture with her hands up in the air in confusion. A little girl waiting for her turn then said “But mummy… why is she doing that?” in the absolute cutest accent I have ever heard. It’s adorable. I wonder if that’s how it is for people who come to my country.

Readings: The first assignment that we had to do for class was to read two essays on how to journal. And frankly, I’m guilty of every single critique that both Francis Bacon and Samuel Johnson made on travelers. When I write, I write for me. I write about myself, how I’m feeling, what I find interesting. I write about things that are entirely self-indulgent. Instead, these authors claim that journaling should be able to teach someone who has never traveled to this country about it. Instead of writing about me not being able to take a picture with the guards at Buckingham Palace, I should have written about how this is only so because tourists harass them and that girls put their phone numbers down the barrels of their rifles. Instead of talking about picture taking in front of the building, I should have talked about how the Palace is only open for tours during the month of August while the Queen is visiting her Scottish home. I should have written about when it was built and who lived there. I should have written about how I came to be there, how far of a journey it was, and what I experienced along the way. Do you see? All of that is interesting to my readers, whereas what I write about and what may seem important then is actually not. IAnd of course I read this after having completed my first journal entry for the trip. It really made me think. I’ve been writing for years about myself, and I’ve brought nothing to anyone else out of it. I’d like to think that these articles really showed me something, and that maybe I can learn from it. Hopefully. I’d like to think that since then my entries have been better.

Beauty: Everything here is beautiful. From the cobblestone streets that we walk on, to the lanterns that light the street paths. Most buildings are incredibly ornate and decorative, whereas those that are not are still beautiful in a very classic sense. I feel like we have little in America that can come close to this. Capital and Capitol buildings of course. Courthouses. Places of Law. But houses themselves? No, not really. I feel like back home, everything is about erecting buildings as fast as possible for the greatest output of revenue. Everything is fast paced. Here, everything is very slow. From the time it takes to create a building, to how many hours will be spent at a dinner table. In fact, the only time I ever see something fast paced here is people while traveling; such as the British hurrying in the tube to catch the next car, or while driving vehicles on the street (they’re dangerous… it’s really very scary). So the buildings, the streets…. the Thames River! The river is beautiful. Though not clear, it has some of the most beautiful bridges I have ever seen with some of the most beautiful buildings right upon its banks. It’s really very breathtaking—I can’t even imagine being able to look out my window every day and see that.

My impressions: First the bad, then the good.

Dislikes:
1) Food. I hate the food here. I want to be able to eat. I’m considering ordering a chicken just so I can get something into my body in chance of it making me feel better physically.
2) Size. I imagined that this city would be bigger with many more people. I wish it were bigger, or even though it is immense, that I didn’t find it miniscule.
3) My American accent. I really dislike that I’m not talking because I feel like my talking will make others dislike me.
4) The exchange rate. Enough said.
5) Early classes and really really long days. Again, enough said. Although, days really are very fun and there’s an incredible amount to do and go see. Mostly, I wish I had more sleep.
6) BEING SICK! I feel like all would be well (hahaha), if only I were.
7) Homesickness. I miss my family. I miss Rothy.

Likes:
1) I’M IN FRIGGIN EUROPE! I’m in the Old World. I’m seeing things I’ve only dreamed about. I’m seeing things that I’ve learned about for years and years.
2) Everything in this city is beautiful.
3) Walking everywhere, although painful at the end of the day, is really good for you and I’m already seeing changes in my body.
4) Public transportation. Everything is incredibly efficient and it really gives you a glimpse into the everyday lives of people who live here. You see businessmen going to work, teenagers going shopping, women with their kids. It’s all very fun. It’s also a window into the fashion world here (the stereotype that London fashion is thee years ahead of America is absolutely true), and by looking at many different girls and how they dress, I’m beginning to figure out how to piece different articles of clothing together and what goes with what. Also, shoes! These girls are unknowingly showing me, a helpless fashion victim, how to learn to shop.
5) That I’m going to friggin Stonehenge in two days!!! Ahh!! It’s world-making.
6) I'm not pregnant!!

What if I’m PREGNANT??? Oh dear god. Please. Please. Please. No. No. No.

Onto other matters…

Yesterday I went to the National Gallery, which was friggin awesome. The building itself was beautiful, and the art was spectacular. I feel like if I could study anything in the world and getting a job or acquiring money afterwards wouldn’t matter, I would study women in Renaissance and Medieval art. It’s very…striking. And very definitive of the era. I feel as if whereas men control politics, it’s the women that control culture…as least seen through imaging and fashion.

I had three favorite paintings. The first two were in a set and each depicted two Catholic saints. One of the girls was holding a pair of pliers, showing how she was tortured by having her teeth extracted for not renouncing her Catholic faith. Another girl stood by a pair of eyes, showing how her eyesight was restored to her upon her conversion. My other favorite painting was of Venus and Mars together in bed after certain liaisons, with Mars strew out on his back and deeply asleep and Venus sitting up prettily and very awake. It was meant to show that love always conquers war, which I think is pretty amazing.

Outside this gallery itself is a beautiful square overlooking much of London, with four gigantic molds of lions that were made by the British when melting down French cannons following a battle in the Napoleonic wars. The museum itself allows visitors to climb on them, and the girls I was with and I thought it humorous that it may only be possible because stereotypically, the British intensely dislike the French and that it could serve as a kind of insult. Also at this Gallery was a statue of good old Georgey Washington (laid on American soil of course!). ←The British are funny. We can’t have an American statue standing on non-American soil, now can we?

After the gallery, me, Ivey, Katherine, and Becky went to a little café and I had the best eggs and toast of my life for lunch. It was perfectly fabulous, and the scene seemed very European to me. We took a long time, drank coffee, and talked about our experiences thus far and our lives in general.

Afterwards, we went on the BEST excursion of my life! Platform 9 and 3/4’s!! It was amazing! And though it took forever to get there, being there was…. Beyond words. It was so COOL. And funny too…it wasn’t actually between platforms 9 and 10, but instead was closer to 8. We were looking for it, and out of nowhere came this exceptionally British dude asking with the thickest accent ever “Harry Potter?” And we, being ecstatic and overly exuberant Americans frantically yelled, “YES!!!” And he was like… “It’s over there…. Make your second left.” And we yelled again, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! *Dashes away*.” We took many many photos, and really, it was so friggin fun and awesome and cool and the best London experience ever! I could have left Europe then and would have been extremely thrilled with my experience.

Which is fabulous, because I’m sure I’ll be met with many more of those moments in the following weeks.

Today I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum and to the Natural History Museum. The first of which I wasn’t very thrilled about. Some of the rooms were cool, but overall it was super repetitive. I liked being able to see the Oriental impact on Western art that I learned in my MMW courses though. And the model room that they constructed to look like a French room in a palace was –amazing–! It was beautiful. The walls were white and every few inches had some kind of gold decorative swirl or candle sconce.

The Natural History Museum however soared above my expectations! We saw DINOSAURS! It was incredible. Also, there was an entire floor dedicated to rocks—my personal passion. I saw more varieties of semi-precious stones that I had ever known to be in existence and there was a solid room dedicated to diamonds, their process of formation, discovery, and cutting into the pieces sold in stores. Awesome, right?

Also there were floors dedicated to the formation of the Earth, the Carbon and Oxygen cycles, sedimentary layering of rocks… all stuff that I am so friggin solid on due to Bild 3 and my over watching of Discovery Channel Documentaries. It made me feel brilliant, because I knew all of it before I read it on the description placards.

I even bought a miniature stuffed animal of a Stegosaurus, whom I named Leafy the vegetarian (the last part being his title, but not named in his name). He is now my personal mascot.

From here, we all decided to walk back to the hotel (which was actually a couple miles). About halfway through we were walking through an enormous park called Kensington Gardens and it started pouring on us. We ran to the nearest tree, hoping to wait under it until the rain had passed, but after waiting a few minutes, it had only gotten worse. Luckily, from there, there was a straight line of trees, a column marking each side of the path you could say, and they were so overgrown that each tree touched the next forming a perfect canopy from one side of the park to the other that we could walk under. We got soaked, naturally, but compared to not being under the trees, we were as dry as the Colorado River.

This park let us off near out hotel, and since then I’ve been relaxing, watching the Memorial to Michael Jackson, and have been planning a trip to Stonehenge, Baths, and Windsor for Saturday with Ivey, Becky, and Jenny. I’m so incredibly, beyond excited. It’s like… my dream. But more. Eeeee!!!