Tate Modern

The first, the original, Hard Rock Cafe-London

Me and Tamalas waiting outside for our table.


This drink (with complimentary shot glass that I got to take home with me), may or may not have contributed to the cutting of my hair later on that night...

Before feast...

After feast, this food was so damn good.

Brighton Beach.

Last weekend, eight of us took a trip to Brighton beach, on the southern tip of England. It was the best day of my trip. For those of you who dont know, I should have been born a fish because I draw my super powers from water.

The day started off as a really cloudy, but once we stepped off the train and on to the beach the sun came out for the rest of the day. It was absolutely beautiful.

The water was freezing, I could only put my feet in for a few seconds. But being that water is my life-force, I took a deep breath and dove into the surf. It felt like the wind was knocked out of my lungs because it was so cold, but once I became numb it was great.

I stayed on the beach for 4 straight hours. My group would leave to walk around, check out the pier, find food, but I refused to leave--I made them bring food back to me so that I wouldn't have to leave. I left feeling so rejuvenated and peaceful, not to mention tan. It was a perfect day.

this is Tam sleeping on the train



my friends from the beach yelling "you're crazy!" :)


Al braving the cold...



embracing for warmth


...and she's had enough



Me and the beautiful Allison



I love this picture, I'm convinced it portrays how utterly happy I am.


From the beach, looking back at the town of Brighton

This picture says it all

WICKED! was brilliant

The Globe Theatre and A Midsummer Night's Dream

Standing outside the Tate Modern Museum, right after seeing the DADA exhibit.

Waking up in London

I figured I would take time to actually write a blog for you all instead of posting ridiculous pictures of myself. I'm well into the second week of living in London, and the anxiety of living in a different country is starting to subside. I've seen some amazing places, and I'm keeping all my ticket stubs, brochures, and reciepts and taping them in my notebook. I'm quite the scrapbooker for someone who hates to scrapbook.

Being an english student in London has indeed added great depth to the meaning of what I'm studying. It hit me one day in class: this stuff that I'm learning about right now happened right here. There is such a great disconnect that happens when you study British literature in the U.S.; which, I feel, is one of the reasons I've never liked British literature. But being emursed in it here has been amazing. This isn't to say that all of a sudden I'm a British literature super star, I still visit sparknotes to figure out what the hell I just read, but a text has a lot more meaning when I read it then get to visit the sight where the story takes place or where the author is burried.

Besides keeping up with my studies, I'm taking advantage of the being abraod part. I dont feel like a tourist anymore. In fact, I look so integrated that "foriegners" have began stopping me in the streets to ask for directions. The best part it that I can usually help them.