I Had Indian Food for Lunch Today.

That's it.

I'm done with my essays. I'm done with tutorials. I'm done with checking books out from Oxford libraries. No more walks to Pembroke. Life is just ridiculous.

Shall I take some time and relay some funny stories?

Let's start with playing in foliage. Not last Friday, but the Friday before I had a tutorial for my major course. It was scheduled for 7 pm but as luck would have it, it got moved up to 1. It was a glorious day. Very warm. Sunny. It smelled like earth. So I arrived at 1 and actually, he meant to tell me 2, but since it was just his lunch, did I mind waiting for about 20 minutes? On such a beautiful day, how could I mind at all?

So I walked into a few little shops. Looked at Alice in Wonderland paraphernalia etc. etc. etc. I went back just a few minutes early and he wasn't back yet so I decided to look around Pembroke a little. There was a little court yard kind of area within sight of where we usually met so I figured I'd have a look around. There were all kinds of different plants and trees lining the stone walls and I walked around the perimeter looking at each kind of leaf each plant had to offer. I found a particularly giant type of leaf and noticed that it's branches were coming from over the buried wall. I wanted a closer look so I got much closer. I touched the leaves and their branches, just listening to my music kind of entering my own world when I looked over my left shoulder towards the door we were to meet at and there he was, my tutor, staring at me.
I'm pretty sure I honestly scampered over to him, taking off my sunglasses, like a 9 year old does when dad calls you in from playing outside for too long and you've got homework to finish.
"What were you doing?" with a little bit of a weird look on his face, not like he's weird, but like I'm weird (which is quite the truth). I was just looking at the plants, leaves, nature, something that was very beautiful, I don't know. I think I just said "looking at the plants."
Anyway, he said I looked a little mad. As in nutters. I couldn't refute this observation. I didn't really want to either.
So I'm a bit nutters.
At the end of the tute he wished me a nice day and I said my goal was to find some more foliage to play in. He directed me to the Christ Church gardens. They were worth it.

Another funny story?
Basically I've just been catching everyone picking their noses. Mostly in the library. At least 4 people have picked their noses in my presence and I just hope more people keep revealing themselves to me. It's just fascinating the things people do when they're studying and think no one's paying them any mind.

How bout this one:
I convinced my Swedish friend Sebastian to be a cherub for the Good vs. Evil bop. He tactfully wrapped a sheet around his loins and wore tiny white wings. That's it. ha ha ha. He looked awesome especially with rouge on his cheeks and fake freckles on his nose. He was by far the best "Good" dressed. David, the guy who runs the entire dining hall, gave him a taste of a 1985 bottle of port. But he gave me a kiss. All night we argued who got the better gift from David Woodfine. Sebastian takes a special pleasure in calling him "Mr. Woodfine."

This one's not so funny.
We tried to go skydiving again last Saturday but it was too windy. If we don't get to this Saturday I don't know what I'm gonna do. Flip out probably.

Harris Manchester is full of closet dancers. There are so many guys I've gotten to dance with me and they're all insistently resistant (well, most of them) until they have a drink or two (or more) and finally they dance with me and they're good! The more drinks they need, though, the less coordinated they are, but they're still good considering! If only they could dance without needing a drink, they'd woo ladies left and right.

There are several things I don't know what to do with. A plant. A poster. A masquerade mask. An empty bottle of wine. A bomber jacket. A few feelings. You know how it is.

I don't want to leave. I like the fact that I don't want to leave. It should hurt. I should ache for the sound of Morrison's door opening and slamming beneath me and then leaning slightly forward and looking down to see who's leaving, whether it's Olivia or Andy or one of the Sebastians or James and then whisteling or calling down to them. These are people I know in a place that's familiar.