"Things Never Happen the Same Way Twice"

Ah, it's been 2 weeks since I last posted, which might have something to do with work and a little play. Things have been tumultous in the past 2 weeks, but not necessarily bad. I turned in my first paper, had to give up going to Much Ado About Nothing, had my first Oxford style tutorial and just won a coveted ticket to Kevin Spacey's perfprmance of Richard III. Those are only the big things that have heppened, but it's still really overwhelming. The one thing I have realized is that at some point I stopped being a tourist and started taking sights and places for granted, but that also coincided with a security within the people who've surrounded me for the past month. When I wrote my first paper one of my friends edited for me. If you've never had someone edit a paper then you have no idea how much trust you need to put into that editor on many different levels. For one, they will see your greatest flaws, and you WANT them to, but you also need to trust that mechanical flaws will not be the pawns by which to judge the person. Thank god I have a friend here who can not only be my editor, but someone who encourages my self confidence. But it's not just one person who has enriched this experience for me; there are many people who have wandered into my life this summer for the first time or as re-acquaintances who have shaped this experience into a time that will be achingly painful to say good-bye to. Though reunions are already planned and re locations are in the works, and next summer is just 11 months away, we will never have this place or time ever again. Words and pixels will replace these experiences, and will be the things we rely on to bring us back during the dead of winter to the croquet only, the Momma Swans, the pre-tutorial anxieties, the kebab carts, paper topics, Purple Turtles, Macbeth, bus rides and river walks. As things begin to wind down and people's conversations move from papers to departure times I have to remind myself to take this all in and savor the days we have left with each other in this time at this place. I reminded them about this during our last high table--to take a look around at the people on the benches because this moment will never be recreated. Though this might sound dreadful to some, it is my interpretation that these fleeting moments become a part of who we are. As I've already posted somewhere in cyber space: When you get used to a place it becomes routine, and that familiarity leads to complacency, but not with the friendships that have formed. Forever thankful for the people who surround me who give me laughter and love.

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"