If anything, I will come away from England with ruined shoes and smokers’ lungs. I haven’t smoked, but every other human being on campus does, creating a perpetual tobacco fog. It smells and looks aesthetically warming, though, with the rain, or post-rain puddles of sunshine in the pavement. My shoes were turned to socks again, today. I walked barefoot half way through campus back to my flat, after my evening lecture on Emily Dickinson dismissed. Stella, my seminar discussion leader, held lecture today. Her voice, with a richly Greek accent and English in it’s emphasis, is really lovely to listen to. I wish I could have heard her lecture on Melville three weeks ago – the American ego is, after all, just as the male ego. I would love to feel some sense of female comradery or affirmation before I dive into these generations of macho words… although I’m convinced that I’m entirely engulfed already. I could hardly focus in my 19th Century Literature lecture this morning, thinking so hard on Jude Law as Inman in Cold Mountain… haha!

It’s funny to hear American politics still infused in conversation here, on the daily. I think I’ve inherited a reluctance to political expression from my parents. They never told us kids who they voted for, and hid their inclinations and opinions well. Granted, I was a child, who didn’t understand why Jesus wasn’t our president. At first I was baffled, wondering what I was going to do when it came time for me to vote and didn’t have parents to tell me who to vote for. Then I thought that maybe it saves them from arguements, concluding that they must remain altogether reserved because they disagree with each other and have learned the hard way how little progress political debates ever make. I’d like to argue marriage as a bit more of a foundational institution. I admire them for it, and I’m glad they did it. I can better guess now, as to when I was a child, which direction each of them leans, but I keep quiet. I vote on principle, not for whoever is less likely to drive our country into the ground. We’re approaching the end, and all I need is freedom of speech and freedom to love (among other desired rights, as listed in the Constitution of the United States of America, of course…) and trust in the basic assumption that whoever wins the presidency… well, let’s just say I haven’t yet lost faith in humanity to the extent that I’d believe over half of my nation’s population would freely vote for a tyrant, dictator, or terrorist-in-disguise.

Tonight, I will drink tea and eat biscuits and read about the American Renaissance before trekking back to the library with the mission of two thesis statements. Essay wave #2 is due to make landfall in eighteen days. Oh my glob.



2 thoughts on “Ruined shoes, rainy bliss.

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