Swimming and Theatre: Swimming in Theatre

Greetings in the name of Olga, Keeper of the Great Red Beard.

Yesterday I went to the new recreational building on campus and went swimming with my roommates. It was lovely, and I swam 25 yards under water. All right, not much to brag about, but it was a good start. You'll see.

This morning I have already had 50 minutes of Japanese class. We were learning how to ask for directions and how to give directions. It's fun, but I feel a pressing need to review my hiragana. At 1:30, I will have my British literature class, then my History of East Asia, then Calvin Theatre Company. After that, I suppose I will go home, eat cereal and study.

It is a beautiful day outside. The temperature is at a surprising 8 degrees Celsius, and the sun is out. Most of the snow has melted, and although I know this thaw will soon pass, I am happy for the sunshine will it lasts. Can you blame me when I grew up on my tropical island home?

There are always theatre things happening on campus. The Government Inspector is coming up, which I will be attending. In March, Sushi theatre will be performing. Sushi, or Theatre in the Raw, is a collection of plays written by students, performed and directed by students. Kate asked me to help her with a play she had written--I suppose she wanted a writer's eye for I have no experience writing plays whatsoever--but we ended up reworking most of the play. Suffice to say it was completely different than before. (Pardon the hanging preposition.) She handed the play in yesterday. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will be one of those plays that few like and most hate. Or, as it is quite mysterious, will be one of those plays that people consider to be terribly deep and mystifingly layered. But not so. It is not deep, so don't attempt to look for anything once you've reached the bottom of the shallow pool. Jean Cocteau once said, "The worst tragedy for a poet is to be admired through being misunderstood. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "To be great is to be misunderstood." And nicely rounding out the argument is G.K. Chesterton, "Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."

I have a jealous personality. Everyone seems to be doing so much more exciting and productive things with their life, while I sit here, toiling away at my books. Try for example Natalie, who is away in Scotland, wandering its far, wind-tossed reaches and attending Holy Rood Abbey on Sundays. That sounds exciting, no? I can only hope that I imagined the whole thing and that everyone else is suffering under some even more menial task. Misery loved company.

No, no. I shouldn't say such things. I know I shouldn't. But a gleeful part of me wants to anyway.

Use the fork,
Luke.

Recovering from Nose Jobs and Returning to America with the Wind at My Back

The time has come, the Walrus said
To speak of many things
Of nose jobs, interdimensional portal keys,
Of winter coats and cold degrees

Greetings to my parents, good friends, and all you wonderful acquaintances and happenstance readers of my blog.

It is -1 degrees Celsius. Not as cold as many of the other days of the season, but thankfully, like the birds, I migrated to warmer lands when the cold winds blew and snow blanketed everything in a layer of white. Sadly, I am back from those tropical shores, and I sit writing at my kitchen table in my apartment in this phenomenon that is America. Today was the first day of classes. I have to admit, I enjoyed today much more than I did my very first day at college. Everything was so new and intimidating, and I did not know where to turn. Things seem to have settled now, and I feel like an actual functioning member of society, able to move about with relative ease. Granted I will never be an American (nor wish to be), but at least I feel as if I have my wits about me, and that I am not simply going through the motions of the everyday. Hopefully this confidence will last.

I have been doing very, very many things for the past few months. I realize I have not been updating regularly (it's on my list of resolutions) and I don't really feel inclined to give you long-winded explanations of what I've been doing.

1. Had Stories of Alaska performances. Danced well (so they tell me, but can you really trust 'them'?). One of our performances was recorded. I wobbled visibly at one point when I was supposed to lift my leg as lightly as a fairy, but I wobbled like new jello. Found it terribly amusing. It was too bad no one shared my opinion. Hopefully, that video is buried deep in a salt-mine somewhere. Secondly, forgot to mention that I doubled in a very small acting part. I played the daughter of one of the old women in the play. Apparently I brought a tear to the audience. Only one, mind you. First live performance went well. Good audience. The second night, the audience was about as lively as a my sister in the morning. And the cherry on top of an already strange performance, one of the dancers broke her foot 40 minutes before the opening.
But the show must go on. We forced her dance on her broken foot, knowing it could very probably lead to chronic pain and serious after effects.

Yeah, you would think I would make her do something like that. Pardon me while I go put away my cat o' nine tails.

2. Went to Natalie's for Thanksgiving. I would imagine it was a bit like boot camp. I took a plane (almost missed it), arrived (obviously), and was driven to Nat's house. Then we had dinner, piled into the van and drove through South Carolina into Georgia in the wee hours of the morning. I have vague recollections of the audio book, Book of Three playing in the background. We arrived. Got a taste of real Southern hospitality. Had Chick-Fil-A for the first time. Thanksgiving Dinner was at a 50-year-old--might I mention traditional?--hunting lodge with a tables heaped with all kinds of home cooked meals. True to the spirit of any potluck, everyone makes like a homing pigeon and only eats from their own food. I, being the true outsider, ate from everything, and to quote the Bible, "It was good." Especially the coconut cream cake, which I partook in without the slightest bit of caloric guilt.

Most of all, I was just glad to see Nat again. I had not met her for at least a few years, and it was good to talk face to face. Skype is all well and good, but listening to someone's disembodied voice through the headphones gets a little old. We talked; we listened, and we shared and shared alike. (How's that for old-school Christian?)

3. For Christmas, I went to Singapore and stayed there for a month and six days. I was only supposed to stay for two weeks, but my plans changed when we settled on the matter that I would get a nose job. Nose job! you exclaim. What's this? And now comes the time for you to protest endearingly, to compliment me on my wonderful Grecian nose, in order to sway me from my intended path of going under the knife. Well, your compliments would be accepted, but your intentions to dissuade me would fall sadly short. Not because I am set in my hoary ways or because I have terrible issues with my appearance, but simply because the nose job was internal, rather than external. For years I have had problems breathing. My nasal septum is deviated to the right from some old, unknown injury. As a result of this, the turbinates on my left side were given more room and would swell to an unusual size, blocking all airflow through my left nostril. (The temperature-sensitive turbinates were aggravated by the move to the States.) To correct the problem, the good doctor disinfected the area, injected my nose with a local anesthetic (which gave me a very strange rush of adrenaline), and inserted a thicker needle into the desired turbinate, pulsed radio waves through the tissue--effectively killing it--and sent me off with a tissue, a salt-water spray, and oxymetalozine hydrochloride. The area was left to crust over, and since then I have been blowing scabs out my nose. Oh, now you're complaining? You asked the question. I'm just telling you.

My nose has improved since those dark days of mouth-breathing. I've gotten lots of compliments. Man, your nose works really well. How do you manage to get such great air-flow?

I guess something we can all learn from this is that the age-old adage was right. The inside really is more important than the outside.

4. I had a wonderful time in Singapore and Burma. I got to see friends. Bought a shirt and a shawl in Burma. Celebrated Christmas with fellow missionaries. Met up with friends in Singapore. Went to the Jurong Bird Park with Sidney and her family. Had lots of good food. Milo. Prata. Chicken rice. Char sieu bao. Dim sum. All kinds of glorious noodles topped with delicious pieces of roasted chicken or sweet and sour pork.

5. I was able to bring with me movies and CDs from Singapore, as well as new bedsheets from IKEA. I bought a few new shirts at Far East, which I love. I stocked up on inexpensive belts and shoes too, and I even bought a clock. I had been meaning to buy one for a few years now, but I could never find one I liked. When I wear it, I imagine that it's a key to another dimension. I know what you're thinking. You can't buy keys to other dimensions at Far East. You'd at least have to go to Takashimaya.

All in all, I feel very content and well-equipped for life. I bought a new winter jacket (which I will wear dutifully for the next ten years, granted it holds together); I have clothes, books, videos, music, a stocked kitchen cupboard, a wonderful school, great friends, and most importantly, a family who loves me and supports me from afar. I think I miss them even more than before. Take everything else away from me, and I still have what's most important. It's good to know that your friends and family have your back, even if they aren't standing right next to you.

Mamma, pappa, Sofia, Joel, jag älskar er jätte mycket!

P.S. I bought my books today. I am taking History of the English Language, Survey of British Literature, Japanese 102, Philosophy of the Arts & Culture, and East Asia Since the 1600s. I love my classes. I am so excited.P.P.S. Well, whaddaya know? I was able to bore you with long-winded explanations.

Sincerely,
The Girl Who Never Writes