Beauty is England's Middle Name

This weekend proved that to me abundantly.

Once again I have fallen prey to the flu -- probably the product of consistently damp weather, stress from trying to figure out scheduling crapola, and over body exertion from breakdancing.

(My roommate is freaking out because the cricket world cup is being held in her home country of India while we'll still be in England. I don't understand cricket. All I know is some people eat them coated in chocolate. End side note.)

Anyway. This sickness has left me completely vulnerable to the seduction of my bed, whose invitations I have graciously accepted frequently, knowing that if I was at home, my mom would advise me to do the same. But in light of a sleepy weekend, Abby and I made a trip to Wollaton Park, which has made its mark upon my heart.

Wollaton Park, located right across the road from the University Park Campus, and larger than said campus, brought some of the best relief to my spirit that I have had in a long time. We walked through a shoddy gate house, and stepped into a wonderland of turning leaves, rustling grasses, and content families strolling with their dogs on the open green fields that tenderly hug the small lake in its southern corner. We only had the chance to explore a tiny portion of this park, but in that time we discovered a castle, found a quaint cafe (open only from 12pm-3pm on weekdays) ideal for pre-class studying, and realized that Abby's coat had been peed on by a mangy little dog while we were taking pictures next to the glorious castle wall. That was touching... really... like, you couldn't have controlled your two lb dog from urinating all over the inside of my friend's jacket? C'mon people. Do we need to put the collar on you instead? Oye.

In any case, there's nothing like fresh air, rolling hills, and endless beauty to rejuvenate the soul and strengthen a sick body. Unless you couple that with gorgeous music. Music and nature -- the heart's healers.

I have been so blessed by the little things in life. The slight adjustments in the harmonic line of a second guitar in an acoustic cover that no one would catch unless they had listened to it religiously. I tend to do that -- listen to a song over and over. If my soul finds oneness with a piece of music, it feels right to continue on that vent until my soul switches direction -- it's like coming home for a while.

But enough musical philosophy. Clearly I'm doing a lot of thinking over here, but more than anything, I am learning how to live. I am learning to enjoy every moment, to listen for the harmonic line of the second guitar in a piece of beloved music, to reach out to people instead of walking by them distractedly. To PAY ATTENTION.

More later, friends.

Oh but wait -- my roommate just informed me that the Cricket World Cup 2011 mascot is an aqua elephant named Stumpy. I think that pretty much sums it up :)

Boy Bands Are Back -- ALL RIGHT

Yes. Yes they are. JLS, runners up in X Factor (Britain's "American Idol") are incredibly popular here. And why wouldn't they be? They're gorgeous, talented, and British. Whoever decided boybands were "out" clearly did not realize the advantages of corralling the most attractive male singers and dancers in one place at one time. Sounds like a dream come true to me! Thank you, England, for having some common sense.

Except when it comes to leggings. Oh boy. Apparently leggings count as pants now, and yes, I have succumbed to wearing them as pants as well. In all reality, they shouldn't pass for pants, as they really are just thick tights, and I'm always incredibly self-conscious when I wear them in public. I check out my reflection in the store windows to make sure I don't look completely ridiculous, find out I do, then keep walking because everyone else looks as ridiculous as I do. England, someday you will look back on your poor fashion choices and laugh, but until then I will join you wholeheartedly in your legging conquest of the world seeing as leggings are possibly the most comfortable thing I could ever put on. Minimal clothing. Always a good choice.

Today I wore leggings as pants, but I also went to the Uni library for the first time with Sofia from Italy after our French class, and then headed to Brown Betty's in the city centre where we met a guy from Spain who spoke no English. So of course we talked to him in Spanish for over half an hour, which was SUBLIME. I love being able to communicate with people from other countries, albeit poorly. I've realized that while I may be able to translate Spanish like a fiend, without practice my speaking has become embarrassingly poor. Of course, as is always the case, after our conversation I was walking down the sidewalk thinking of all the Spanish phrases I should have been able to think of and use at the time. This probably resulted in me muttering to myself in Spanish in public and looking extra crazy in my legging/pants.

Shoot. In England, pants are called "trousers". "Pants" refer to undergarments. Well, I suppose leggings are closer to undergarments than trousers anyway...

All in all, life is good. Clearly. I'm chilling with people from Britain, Nigeria, Italy, France, and Spain. In one day. EXQUISITE. This is what life is about, people: boybands, minimal clothing, and spontaneous meetings (mainly the last point, but the first two as well ;)). Life is about people, it's about breaking out of our comfortable systems and communities and reaching out to people who we may never have met otherwise. If I hadn't started speaking Spanish to the guy next to me after recognizing his first language, I never would have had the experience of chatting with a native Spaniard in England. We've gotta take risks. We have to break out of those comfortable polite bubbles. Life isn't about solitude, it's about community. So get up out of your bubble and be communal, friends.

I love you all,
Ames

Oh, the things I have seen...

Today, I saw a plethora of men wearing windpants (the 80s are back, people), windows with curtains displaying ginormous lion heads, and a man on a bike almost get hit by a bus.

And I'm finding that I can no longer put together an intelligent sentence structure in English due to my studying 2/3 classes in another language. Oh French and Spanish, I hate and love you both.

And every time I hear "Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry, I am slapped in the face with the fact that I am no longer a teenager, and thus must let go of my teenage dreams and move onto adulthood. Oh wait. That doesn't sound so bad after all ;)

In any case, I haven't bloggedededed for a while, and it seemed like the good time to do such. (Oh gosh. Do you hear this? I can no longer speak English. We're going to have to communicate via grunts and hand motions when I get back...)

My schedule is FINALLY starting to line up. Sort of. Still working on the whole graduating a year early thang. Which will be absolutely worth it, but right now I'm enduring a fairly painful process of sorting out credits, graduation requirements, and senior paper-itis. Ughstah. Working on setting up volunteer work, etc. as well. And yeah. That's the technical side of things.

I spent Sunday in London with four of the members of the Nottingham Breakdance Crew, which was AMAZING. We headed out at nine, in a tiny mint green car, driving on the wrong side of the road, of course. When we arrived at one, we headed straight to Bones to Stones 2010 -- a battle venue in a skate park. Literally, if you do huge moves and land it wrong, you will break bones. HOW BALLER IS THAT??? I felt like I was in a movie, it was SO LEGIT. After five hours of said battles, we headed to the main event -- UK Bboy Championships, World Finals 15th Anniversary!!! We watched the best Bboys, poppers, lockers, and crews battle it out for the championship. Six hours on our feet, and worth every minute of it.

I am so thankful for the life that I lead, and for the opportunities I have been given. I feel SO ALIVE being here -- meeting people from around the world, learning how to breakdance, learning my third language, hopefully teaching hip hop to youth. This is INCREDIBLE.

And what I've realized, is that the more I try to find a "deeper meaning" in life, the less I actually LIVE my life. Why do we look for "deeper meanings" when the meaning of life is to LIVE IT? Thus I'm instilling a policy of less thinking and more living, because my life is going to pass me by unless I grab it with both hands and refuse to let go. This is my life, and I'm going to live it the way I choose -- to the fullest, no regrets, just being me.

That's all, let that be food for thought for your own lives :) Just live your lives, loves.
Love to you all,
Amy