My fingers are still numb from a moonlit walk to Woodland 7 where, along with Sam Fry and Ashleigh, I handed in my Coleridge essay. At no earlier than one o’clock in the morning. Is it crazy this was somehow a thrilling few minutes? I don’t know if it was the nip of the December cold, the dark night, or the satisfaction of turning in an explication I feel good about, but it was a rush comparable to reeling in that seven pound walleye at Strum’s those many odd years ago.
The deep sense of camaraderie among the English MA students has been the best part of Uni so far. After not arriving to the grad. school till almost eleven tonight, I was greeted by ‘everyone’ frenziedly typing away on their Macs, as though it’s perfectly normal to begin work in the middle of the night. With plenty of Freia Melkesjokolade (the best milk chocolate you’ll ever taste) and coffee to go ’round, the more the merrier.
I’m beginning to wonder how I might slow down the days and hours left in Bristol. Going home for Christmas in only seventeen days will be wonderful, but I enjoy life here so much. Three months have passed so deliciously fast, and it makes me nervous that spring and summer will zing right past too. I think I need to make a list of the dozens of coffee shops I’ve yet to try, the cities I still need to visit, the food I must taste, the shops I must explore…the list could be endless.
While there’s certainly been numerous distractions from studying, when I do pack a lunch, assemble my stacks of books and spend all day at the library or in Ashley’s cosy flat studying, I realize afresh how much Romanticism interests me. I get to spend hours and days reading Coleridge and Keats, and I can’t help but overflow with gratitude for being no where else but Bristol. And what makes me the happiest is that I don’t feel I’m idealizing this experience. It is sometimes lonesome, but every day has brought new blessings.
And now I’m going to SLEEP! Night.;)