London Front and Centre
One student, four months, twelve credits, and the most incredible city in the world.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Day 96: Back to the States
Day 95: Last Day! Camden Town and the Lights of London
Living in London
The house is a wild flurry of packing, so I'll try to be brief and head downstairs for the hugs and such. Today Emily, Beth and I went shopping (meaning they went shopping for Beatles shirts, and I mostly just navigated) in the Camden Lock, the best market London has to offer. So much rock merch and indy art that it was hard to leave after all.
After that, it was off to the British Museum finally and I was entirely sated after an hour of being there. I LOVE art galleries and I really don't care for museums (although London is the place to get overdosed, question?) Saw the mummies and Rosetta Stone and Parthenon and everything. Now I'm done and have nothing but the pictures and memories. Tonight we headed to see Christmas lights in the squares as our final hurrah. Beautiful pictures, great friends, cold Christmas air and the last day any of us is able to say, "I'm living in
Should pack myself, actually. But there's always time to pack--I just hope I can get some sleep tonight while everyone else packs in the middle of the hallway--since there's a scale for weighing everything, the girls started weighing themselves last night, and I jerked awake to Grace positively screaming, "My life is OVER!" She'd gained eleven pounds. It was 2:30am. All part of living with 40 girls, I suppose. I hope I can remember it all so I can write it down when I get home...I'm struggling to remember less-than-gripping days, heaven forbid there be BOREDOM in
Oh, goodness. After
Looks like I'm off to pack some more. Cross your fingers for the airport to stay open!
Day 94: FINALS--Lost in Pimlico
Day 93: The Last Sunday, Group Pictures and Ben's Slideshow
Testimonies in the Most Beautiful Place in the World
What a spectacular last Sunday. We had a great testimony meeting. All the girls here are so awesome--it wasn't so much that the Church is true, but that it holds people together. I talked about how living with these girls makes me more comfortable to serve a mission and be companions with such great people. Beth got up twice (we rolled with happy laughter), both guys got up, lots of people who swore they wouldn't did and cried most profusely (even Beno talked about how study abroad changed his life). Sister Tate talked about the definition of Zion, where the people were "of one heart and one mind, dwelt in righteousness, and there was no poor among them." That's us in a nutshell. We still struggle with our own baggage: loneliness, not measuring up, financial worries, exhaustion, stress, (Annie's family recently went inactive), but all the girls have been so willing to bear one another's burdens and comfort when that was needed. Some girls are quick to see what's wrong and to deal with it, like Annie and Andrea and Kim and Beth--it's a lot to ask, but if I could have companions like that, being a missionary will be the greatest thing ever. I'm so glad I came--it's the best group, the best weather, the last time these profs could come, and everyone's changed for the better.
Since it's the last 36 hours in London, I'm here to say that introspection is not the activity I thought it was. There's no point in seeing something beautiful if you don't have someone you love there with you. I struggled with this. I stood on the most beautiful moor in England, where Camelot could have been--and there was no one around to take my picture. The Seelys are so cute; we stopped in St. Patrick's church because it had always been closed before, and Dr. Seely went into raptures about the little red devil in the stained glass window. He looked around like a boy in a candy shop trying to find his mother, "Sister Seely! Honey, can you see that? The little devil?" She nodded and squinted up at it enthusiastically--I couldn't help but feel that for the Seelys, that little moment of being able to see the stained-glass for the first time would have been diminished if Brother Seely had been alone. MAN did I want Howard or Marnie or my mum or my best friend at times. Maybe that's what love comes down to--you want to be able to share the beautiful things with people you love, and their presence just makes it all the more beautiful.
The last couple of days look like they'll be full of walking around town and soaking up London--I walked through Hyde Park for the last time and finally saw the Peter Pan statue and the Serpentine ducks. So marvelous. Who wants to spend all their time in a museum when Borough Market or Hampstead Heath is calling? Let's hear about NOW! I think my favorite things here are all literary; freaking out about Harry Potter sites aside, I saw Finchley and knew that's where the Narnia kids lived, and walked through Bloomsbury and knew the Darling children were visited by a boy who wouldn't grow up, or walking through Picadilly and Grosvenor and expecting Mary Poppins to come down on an umbrella. Enchanted, that's what I am. London is so old, but I want to see the life, the vibrance of a culture that created J.M. Barrie and Jane Austen. We'll go see Christmas lights and shop around Camden and watch the locals sell paintings and carvings and cry on the flight home. I hope I can find bits of London when I go home--find a narrow cobbled road, or Indian shops, or gleaming fog curled up around tree trunks in a park, or half-frozen lakes, or politeness, or scarves, or half-bloomed rosebushes, or perfectly bred dogs, or winding country roads, or groups of students speaking other languages, or cathedrals. I can't begin to describe how at home I feel here. I still feel utterly American, but the idea of living here for another three months would be delightful.
Day 92: FINALS--Milton's Eve
Eve, Scripture and Poetry
Reading Paradise Lost brings up the immediate question—how much of it is reasonably scriptural, and how much is poetic license? For Latter-day Saints, we are impressed at
The major verse condemning
This idea extends to Eve’s physical being and actions, both of which serve his vision of a perfect woman being both beautiful and entirely submissive. Eve is more beautiful than all of God’s creations (something not found in scripture, but implied in art and literature throughout history). But Line 4.468 is an ambiguous line: “What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self”, which leads the readers to believe that Eve’s self, as apart from Adam, is no deeper than her appearance. In 8.568, Raphael describes Eve’s beauty, calling it “an outside”. On line 4.498, Eve’s charms include not only beauty, but submission, which, if one existed and the other did not, would not delight Adam (man) so much. This is not found anywhere in Genesis that Eve is submissive or lovely; in fact, it is she, perhaps with Adam standing by, who argues with the serpent, she who partakes, and she who gives the fruit to willing Adam. Whether Eve was beautiful or not makes no difference to Adam—there is no other woman to compare her to. And her actions in the garden suggest her a headstrong, even intelligent and clever woman who does not submit to whatever Adam’s will was (he seems not to have had one in scripture), and one who takes the responsibility for the Fall, something Milton really fails to develop.
Being a Latter-day Saint makes reading Eve in any literature a chore. But
Day 91: FINALS--Life Lessons from Austen's Boys
Nightmares
I'm pleased to announce that three of four finals are over and done with, but not before some rather disturbing dreams involving being chased by a mental institution inmate with an AK-47 (I think I was actually gunned down--I've never died in a dream before). I have some fairly extreme chasing dreams (chased by dinosaurs, Nazis, the principal, etc) before the first day of school or a test for which I do not feel adequately prepared. But my religion test did not merit such a bad night--it, and Austen and Great War all went very successfully. Everything is still on the incline as far as my GPA, even in a place as diverting as London.
Jane Austen's Heroes
In the last few hours, I've made some of the best purchases of my young life (all girl clothes, of course, cheap London coat and scarves from Primark and Queensway). Girls are obsessed with such things because there's nothing like the confidence that comes from a new dress or pair of shoes, when guys look at you for a bit longer than they do when you're in sweats, know what I mean? Finally finished with Austen, and now I can appreciate her more. Or at least, I can appreciate the film adaptations a lot more. That's as much Austen as I'll handle in future anyway.
I guess I liked learning about all the different heroes; in harlequin romances or whatever, the men are all the same mold: Fabio. Yeesh, I could never date a guy so in love with himself. Austen's heroes are confident and lucky, or clever and knightley, or thoughtful and shy, or poetic and devoted, or friendly and content with life, or proud and reserved, or full of bravado but easily hurt. All different. I guess that's my problem with Twilight--there's one guy everyone wants to be with, and the preteens yet unacquainted with the world will expect every good guy out there to be the mold of moody, stalkerish, creepy human-eating Edward Cullen. And all the good guys out there who struggle to remember significant dates, who might be awkward in expressing love in so many words, who aren't good at reading girls' minds and who aren't even as handsome or whatever as he is, will get snubbed by girls who think they're on a quest to find THE PERFECT MAN because that's what they've been taught to look for. Isn't that terrible? And the girls here are struggling to recognize that (after hearing so many botched boy stories) their misery really does come from this fruitless search.
Whew, vomit of the keyboard. I guess this is what happens when a perfectly good day in London is hijacked by finals...puke. But almost done!
Day 90: Pied Beauty
PIED BEAUTY
GLORY be to God for dappled things— |
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; |
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; |
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; |
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; |
And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim. |
|
All things counter, original, spare, strange; |
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) |
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; |
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: |
Praise him. |
Naturally, I needed to explicate it.
Explication:
Romanticism is a marvellous post-Renaissance movement in which to find religious fervor, in art, poetry, novels, and even theatre. The artists find God in nature, finding the maker through His handiwork—typically this handiwork is best admired if it is beautiful according to our own values of beauty. But one renegade Romantic, Gerard Manly Hopkins, penned a poem that features the dull, the spotty, and the strange as natural elements just as important in finding Divinity. “Pied Beauty” is a splendid reminder to us that, by describing all kinds of nature, though they be imperfect in our eyes, they are still creations of a perfect, loving God.
In addition to describing common elements in nature, he describes the so-called imperfections we would see in those common elements. During the Romantic period, society looked on freckles and other such blemishes as imperfections brought on by exposure, lower society, and even the devil (witch-hunts, etc., and also the Puritan idea that Satan looks like a fair, freckled Scotsman). But
By combining un-sublime elements with physical imperfections,