I was going to start this post with some creative narrative that has been brewing in my subconscious, but my brain has been wiped of all other thoughts than the FREAKING DELICIOUS ORANGE CHOCOLATE FUDGE I AM EATING RIGHT NOW. I got it from a little shop called Fudge Kitchen that makes unique fudge flavors and sells them by the slab. Their tagline is "devilishly different". This is an exquisitely decadent orange chocolate DREAM. Om nom freaking nom. The fact that I'm simultaneously listening to the sultry sounds of Robin Thicke doesn't help my concentration level either. I am just completely distracted by indulgence at the moment. However, I shall endeavor to unscramble my thoughts.
This morning I woke with a promise in my heart of getting to meet/listen to/be in the same room with Sir Ian McKellan. He was the guest speaker at the Oxford Union Society this evening, and I am a member of the Union Society. So although I was extremely sleepy and faced with the prospect of having to finish another paper, I kept calm and carried on as Ian would want me to, I'm sure. After an entire day in the Bod, I finished my paper (whew) and started reading the next play on my docket. Before heading over to the Union Society, I went to a meeting for the small group that I've gotten plugged into through my church. This was only my second week there, but I love it. God has been so faithful and blessed me immensely by surrounding me with people that are seeking after Him with fervor. Tonight we listened to a sermon about the Kingdom of God, and what it means to be able to accept it as a child would. It was a wonderful time of fellowship. I bailed a little bit early with Andrew and one of my new British friends Fez, so that we could get to the Union early. As we approached the gate, droves of people were walking in the opposite direction and I thought I heard somebody say, "It's full,". And lo and behold, it was full. I tried not to get there wretchedly early because I thought it would be uncouth and very American of me, and what did I get in return? No Ian. :( As we were walking away, I'm fairly sure that I described my current state of mind to Fez as "incredibly depressed". He thought that was a bit over dramatic. I explained that I'm a theatre major, so that happens sometimes. But even though the distinct lack of Sir Ian McKellan in my life sicklied o'er my native hue of joy (Hamlet reference! Anyone?), the evening turned out to be quite a lovely and enjoyable time. Andrew, Fez, and I pub hopped with some of my neighbors from 224 Abingdon, and we had a wonderful time of talking and laughing. :) It was definitely one of my favorite nights that I've had in Oxford thus far (which is saying a lot considering I would get a wave of disappointment every so often because Ian was talking so close by and I couldn't hear his epic voice). Most ridiculous moment of the night: at one of the pubs, I went to the bathroom and got trapped in the stall. Yes, I got trapped in a bathroom stall. It figures, right? And you're probably thinking, "Deanna. Why didn't you just crawl out from underneath?". Well let me tell you, mister or miss high and mighty reader, that I could not crawl out from underneath because the stall door was an actual wooden door that reached the floor. My only chance of getting underneath the door would have been to become a liquid. And let me also tell you, o ye of little faith, that the walls and doors of the stalls were very tall. There was only about a foot and a half of open space between the top of the partitioning walls and the ceiling. But somehow, God only knows how, I managed to step on the (very short) toilet, scale the utterly smooth wall, hoist myself over the wall into the neighboring stall, and fall onto my feet. I managed to leave this ridiculous situation with only one bruise/welt and an absurd story. I would say that it was worth it.
Bullet points of noteworthy happenings from the last week:
- God is awesome, and completely faithful.
- My first tutorial went swimmingly.
- I didn't meet Sir Ian McKellan.
- I went to a pub and listened to a funk band. Not half bad for Brits trying to do funk.
- There's a guy that works at a coffee shop that I frequent who is a combination ginger-British-hippie-Jesus-Weird Al.
Until next time.
Grace and peace.
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