Blue Ridge Mountains

Okay so firstly to apologise for the crappy half-arsed last post... 


I will explain that the beautiful photos which graced your eyes (if you did take the approximate 4.5 seconds out of your day to have a look) were taken in West Jefferson, NC, about 3 and a half hours west of where we're living now in Raleigh. Went up there to the mountains for a weekend with a lovely group of about 13 to stay in a friend's holiday house. 

Molly, Kate, Sara, Sam, Maddi, Natalie, myself, Nat and Henry

Making Tyler a thankyou cake seemed preferable to venturing outdoors

The living room- red cup heaven

Being from Newcastle and all I am not in any way used to such nice places. But having mentally prepared myself beforehand thanks to the accuracy of  Google images (who came up with this after a search for "Blue Ridge Mountains". A misleading representation- I could not find this woman anywhere), I was able to appreciate the view and the house itself, both which absolutely blew me away.

After the success of this mountains trip, the girls and I decided to get really crazy and book the following weekend away too- so we ended up spending three incredibly hot and giggly days in Charleston down in South Carolina. Honestly the best weekend I've had here so far, definitely one to remember. 

Emily, Amy P, Amy L and Megan, immediately before coincidentally running into and being ignored by the boys from Alexander in Macdonalds.
Surely the lowest possible level of social rejection.

We had it all. Car singalongs, complaints from fellow hostel-stayers, the best Urban Outfitters sale of all time, a party on a worryingly unsupportive balcony, bagels, more bagels, dinner at a famous seafood restaurant - I sat where Samuel Jackson did when he visited, a story which will definitely have a place in my 'well on my gap yah' speech, to be given in the pub at home on a bi-weekly basis when I get back - even more bagels, very sore feet, a bit of standard Civ War history and a dip in the freezing sea. 

US Customs House in the background- we however are more concerned with who sits on the highest steps a la Gossip Girl

Emily, Amy P, Megan, Amy L and myself doing diner breakfast by the sea before heading home on Sunday, dressed head to toe in Urban Outfitters sale

Mid-terms next week, so no weekend away this week, but Miami and Bahamas the week after...

Hey, it's a tough life, but we deal with it.

x

Listening to: "Blue Ridge Mountains" by Fleet Foxes.

Listen here.

Shoot the moon and miss completely

West Jefferson, North Carolina.


Listening to:
'Shoot the Moon' by Norah Jones.
Listen here

emphasise.

Not happy.

Why is it that when I make the quite embarrassing effort to go up to a teacher to introduce myself in the second week of term in a very clear British accent, explaining I am an exchange student, I am still later on met with those very condescending two letters, 'sp', when I use the English - no, wait - the correct spelling of words from a language which was only adopted as the official language of this country some 240 years ago? Would Chaucer have spelt 'emphasise' with a 'z'? Why should I have to change my spelling and grammar, in an attempt to squeeze a couple of extra marks out of an essay, only to have to go home to Manchester in September to start writing a dissertation in real English? Why do some professors really think it necessary in their roles as educators to correct spellings which are clearly due to cultural difference rather than mistake or ignorance?

Stage 2 of culture shock (according to Wikipedia and seconded by NCSU in our induction talks back in January):

"After some time (usually three months but sometimes sooner or later, depending on the individual), differences between the old and new culture become apparent and may create anxiety. 

Excitement may eventually give way to new and unpleasant feelings of frustration and anger as one continues to have unfavorable events that may be perceived as strange and offensive of one's cultural sensitivity. 

Language barrier, stark differences in public hygiene, traffic safety, food accessibility and quality may heighten the sense of disconnection from the surrounding."

Well, I guess I can't say they didn't warn us. I find this spelling of emphasise very offensive of my cultural sensitivity indeed. 

Okay okay rant over! 

A few pictures of last weekend for you to lighten the mood - some stolen frat paddles and a lovely valentines card from my Mum, depressingly marking my first Feb 14th alone for a good 5 or 6 years... Who needs a boyfriend when you have a mother who sends you cash in a soppy hallmark card in the post anyway? Gotta love her.

x

Listening to: The Swimming Song by Loudon Wainwright III. 

- Lovely song which reminds me of the Beckleberry ladies back in Newcastle and our happy festival times.

Have a listen here.

If you give a little love, you can get a little love of your own

So the past few days here have been a little weird to be honest - a lot of reminders of things going on back home made the freakishly gorgeous weather on Sunday a little bittersweet.
 But as always, I can't underestimate the powers of my best friends in Newcastle to be incredibly grounded and understanding and put things into perspective. Not to mention the beautiful multi-national ladies of Alexander who are an amazing distraction from anything and everything serious- bring on spring break in the Bahamas! 

Speaking of which, I was directed towards this little beauty last night during a bit of escapist holiday excitement. Needless to say it looks like a nightmare. I can't wait. 

Saturday night was another of Raleigh's finest house parties: I actually say this without the irony, it was pretty cool. They had turned the basement into a little dubstep hub with an ACTUAL DJ (unusual- most hosts seem to think that an ipod with a pair of free speakers from a local bank should suffice) and pretty lights and things. 

There was even a keg and red cups. 

But, as we have now come to expect- the cops came. I of course responded with the immediate dropping of my red cup and a silent grip of Emily, my fellow English and underage friend's arm. Proceeded by a mini freak-out, an assessment of the garden fence and whether we reckoned we could jump it, then eventually a surprisingly easy little jog out the front door, singing 'Rule Britannia' all the way down the road. I have since learned that the owners of the house were fined something around the $400 mark for a combination of noise pollution and serving alcohol to minors (that would include myself i guess, sorry guys) so won't be in the financial situation to have another one for about a year. But ultimate respect to them for taking one for the team! A good night anyway, and much needed.

Today my poetry class was cancelled, so in place of that I need to get down to writing our poem of the week, to submit by 9pm. The theme this time is a speaker addressing someone, so writing it to 'you', set in a particular situation. Perhaps trying to be overly clever, I've been sitting here brainstorming, trying to figure out what a young female speaker might say to an unborn child in the womb. But somehow I can't get inspired. I don't want to cause any abortion controversy. This is the south, after all. Anyone have any better ideas? 

There's only so long I can sit here drawing foetuses (foeti?) in the margin of my notebook.

x

Listening to: Peaceful, the World Lays Me Down by Noah and the Whale. 

Post title from 'Give a Little Love'
Have a listen here.