I am currently re-reading The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings for my two Oxford tutorials (I know, it's a hard life for an English major). The thing that really strikes me about re-reading these books is how much I've forgotten, or perhaps how much I've never really seen before. The fact of the matter is that I feel like it's the first time I've ever really read them. Maybe it's because I'm older, or maybe it's because I am willing to be younger. The point remains: I am reading my favorite stories again for the very first time, again. 

Sometimes, habit and routine get a bad wrap. After all, how can someone really enjoy life (or, more pointedly, study abroad) if life is full of sameness? I don't quite understand that view. I don't have a drive for the perpetually new. I am a creature of habit and a creature of routine. Now, those two things are not quite the same. For example, when I shower, I wash my hair first - that is habitual. There is no reason and no meditation upon the action. I wash my hair first without thinking of what order I am doing things. On the other hand, between 2:30 and 3:00, I stop working, come downstairs, and get tea and cookies (specifically, digestives - think British graham crackers). I do that daily, and yet it stands out in my mind as a special thing to do. It is routine. 

It's been a crazy couple of weeks. First off, I spent a week traveling around England with two of my housemates, Julia and Emily (you can meet them in a YouTube video here). This week was nought week (basically, orientation/scavenger hunt to find all your tutors/library cards/meetings/books). It's been quite the past few weeks. 

The previous paragraph was not only my subtle apology for missing last week's post (sorry, fam) but also a loose transition into talking about intelligence. I believe everyone has some kind of intelligence and brilliance. I am clever at books. I don't make egregious spelling errors very often. I also put my foot in my mouth on the reg, and this morning I spilled tea all over the kitchen table (update: I dropped my pen just now; Brooke and Julia were not phased). 

Tea is weird. It's not as strong as coffee, it's not tasty in the way that juice is. Overall, it's the comfort food of the drink world. It's rarely spectacular and rarely surprising. Yes, adding milk or sweetener adds a little variety, but overall, it's tea. Tea is tea. It's lovely, but a gentle kind of lovely, like a towel fresh out of the dryer. 

At the moment, the tea-drinking members of 224 (my Oxford house) are averaging four cups of tea.
Per person.
Per day. 

"There's no such thing as moods. Everyone can feel exactly how they want to." 

Jon Davis, my tenth through twelfth grade math teacher, used to say this all the time. His Southern drawl, saying those exact words, came floating through my head yesterday. Thankfully, they didn't come floating out of my mouth, because at least half of everyone in the house was in a bad mood.

Yesterday, I visited Holy Trinity Church, where the great author CS Lewis is buried.

It took us (myself, Amanda, and Sara, two fellow students from APU) around two hours to reach the church on foot. We passed through the outskirts of Oxford, stopping to look at the houses or flowers. It was a rare, sunny morning, and the walk was peaceful and easy. We entered the churchyard by way of a wooded sidewalk off a side street in Headington. Upon passing through the church gate, the trees parted, revealing the graves and a sign that read
"Please respect the peace of this place." 

I made it to Oxford! There weren't any major flight delays or problems, I caught the correct bus, I had the right addresses, and I made it to the house in plenty of time. I met my housemates (6 girls, 1 boy - sorry, Charlie) and I'm writing this blog post from my fourth floor room (we nicknamed this floor The Tower) while drinking earl grey tea. It's only been about 38 hours since I got to the city, but I've fallen in love with it already. We haven't started tutorials yet, but I'm glad, as I get to spend hours walking/bus riding and learning this amazing city. 

Earlier this week, I wrote my one hundredth poem for the 200 Poems Project/Poem-A-Day Challenge 

ONE HUNDREDTH.

No matter how you slice it, that is a lot of poetry and big bundle of writing. Doing the challenge has given me a lot of creative freedom, and in some ways, it's been much lower pressure than writing can be and often is. 

My laundry timer is going to go off in ten minutes. When the timer goes off, I will finish my sentence and go fetch the laundry, start folding, and start my real, actual life in which I am not a real, actual writer (according to some). Well, according to me, I'm a writer.

Wait, what? Can I do that? Can I "identify" as "writer"?

I've come to the place where I do call myself a writer. I write a lot. 

Imagine climbing up a steep, steep cliff. You have to use your hands and your feet. Sweat drips into your eyes, and you might even hear the roar of the ocean below you or the wind whistling by your ears. It's exhausting, and you tell yourself not to look down as your grip the outcroppings and search for the next foothold. Finally, you feel a rock dig into your knee as you push yourself up the last foot or so, and as you sit down, exhausted, you look over the edge of the cliff and laugh. "I did that!" you think to yourself. Gazing down, you realize you made it pretty far.

I have a serious case of Do-It-Yourself personality. I love being involved in all my projects - really involved. Over-involved. Yet, as I type this, a friend of mine is sitting across from me in Starbucks, rough-cutting a video for my YouTube channel. 

For those of you who missed it, Nicki Minaj was not nominated for a VMA for the "Anaconda" music video, and she has been making a wonderful point on Twitter over the last few days: 

The American media has a very specific (white) aesthetic (skinny) for female sexiness/beauty. 

(There was quite a Twitter exchange about it with Taylor Swift, but it's over and that's not really my point).

My point is that I didn't see Nicki's point right away. 
And it's not cause I'm white. It's not because I'm skinny. 
It's because I'm from Hawaii.

The show is going really well, and I'm happy with everyone's work, but still. I am in tech, and everything hurts. For the uninitiated, technical rehearsals, which happen during Tech/Hell Week, are the rehearsals during which lights, make-up, costumes, microphones, final set adjustments, and last minute props are added to a show. It's also the week before opening night, so nerves are high. Some actors chew each other out, others are vaguely catatonic with a hurricane inside (me as an actor), others cry, and some love it. However, Tech will teach you a valuable life lesson: Life takes work.

Everyone is the title character of their own life, and there are times, really frustrating times, where nothing is working and it feels as though no progress is being made, or like it is happening too slowly to make a difference. That's my life at the moment. 

It's time to revisit books! I've put together a fun list of works from around the world that were published after or during World War I, but before 2000 (That's how I defined "Modern Classic" in my last book post). All of these books are worth the read, though some are more fun than others. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the list and maybe even pick up one of the books! 

Imagine someone with a bad knee injury. They can barely drag their leg along behind them, and yet they refuse to use crutches or even wrap their knee. It's obvious to anyone and everyone watching that the injury is getting worse day by day, since it has no time to rest - ever - but the injured person refuses to give into using crutches. Maybe they believe it would make no difference, or maybe they are worried people would start to notice their injury. Anybody would think someone who did that was stupid... 

... except we do that all the time. 

"It's all part of the program," my mom said as I sniffed up snot and wiped tears off my face. That little scene played out countless times in my childhood, usually after I had hurt myself playing. I understood what she meant: I could stay inside and be safe, sitting quietly in a corner, or I could have an adventure and risk getting hurt. I usually chose the latter. 

This phrase came back to me when I heard my director, Kristi, tell one of the members of the cast to "trust the process" of putting a play together. As the assistant director, I learned long ago to trust the director's vision, but it's a skill and a hard lesson (sometimes). Sometimes, the puzzle pieces make no sense. Sometimes, the moments feel awkward and unnatural. Sometimes, the AD storms you and pushes your feet into place with a scowl. 

It is very, very easy to post an opinion online. It is incredibly easy to draw a hard line in the sand and fight tooth and nail for what you believe. Those things are easy. 

I would like to propose something more difficult. 

Instead of just picking and defending a side, do your homework. 
Read all about the social issue that you're thinking about.
Read posts from both sides.
Read testimonials. 

Now, it would be easy to assume I'm saying we should all do this because it will advance my side. After all, it's hard to argue against something if you aren't familiar with the ins-and-outs of the argument, right? Yes.

Life can be hard. That should not come as a surprise, and yet I find myself shocked at how difficult some days can be. I know how deeply wounded I have been, and yet I am surprised by how much scar tissue I have. I remember battles; I remember winning and losing. I remember struggling, fighting, crawling forward toward the light with everything in me, and falling backward, and yet I sometimes find myself beating myself up for losses. 

This post is going to take a little bit of explaining, so bear with me. 
It is very easy to get into a listening "rut" - same three favorite artists, same favorite album, etc. Or, it's easy to love a band, but have no idea how to branch out. With that in mind, I've picked out some great older bands and modern bands that might interest you. There's nothing wrong with a little routine, but in case you've been wondering what else you should be listening to, I have a blog post for you!

Without further ado, the If You Like.... blog post (Old-School Bands Edition).