Causal Logic

So this is rather nerdy but I'm taking Political Science 200 right now which is like the gateway writing class that all International Relations majors have to take in order to get into any upper division polysci courses. Last week we had our "theory" assignment. This was a 6 page paper I wrote explaining how the concept of lebensraum in heterogeneous societies effects the probability of genocide.

Not everyone wrote a paper about that. The point was just to identify how theories are prevalent in all aspects of life and to help us identify the independent and dependent variables involved in a particular theory.

My CAUSAL LOGIC was that the rise of the nation-state in Europe brought about through the ideology of the French revolution spread through the Napoleonic wars and then enforced on the world through colonialization has created artificial geo-political boundaries with unrealistic expectations about the sovereignty belonging to each individual group.

I could explain that better, and indeed I did. But unless you want me to send you a copy of the paper, you're just gonna have to trust that I'm like a total genius and know exactly what I'm talking about. A reasonable assumption?

Alright, so anyway the point I'm getting to here is that I've got some major "causal logic" jargon floating around in my head right now. The other major thing I have floating around my head right now?

The BBC tv show Sherlock.

Guys I'm obsessed. I've watched like an entire season in three days. It's just so good! And so incredibly British. And the actor who plays Sherlock is riveting. And I just finished the cliff hanger episode of the second season! And the new season won't be out for at least another year! How, oh how will I survive?

It's been a really big issue lately. As in today. It was most traumatizing between the hours of 1 and 11 am this morning. So in the spirit of over-applied intellectualism, here's some causal logic that's actually relevant to my own life. It goes a little like this:

The progression of self realization:
I am stressed and grumpy.
Interesting. Why am I stressed and grumpy?
Oh, you know...school. It's just so overwhelming. I don't know how I'll ever get it all done.
But I've always managed in the past.
But I'm tired. My stomach feels weird. I didn't sleep well last night.
Hmm, now that I think about that, why am I so tired?
....
Oh come on, admit it.
I was watching Sherlock last night.
Yes, and?
And I was so sad that the season was over that I started looking up Benedict Cumberbatch interviews. And pictures. And trivia. Ok FINE! I admit it! I was up till three in the morning just watching youtube and I may or may not be in love with an incredibly obnoxious fictional character.
Uh-huh. So that's why I am so tired, and have given up on homework and am now walking out of the library?
Yes.
And my life is hard because....?

It's a stupid example but when I stop to think about why things are the way they are, I realize that so many of my 'problems' have to do with my choices. Do I regret spending hours watching a tv show? Not at all.  Do I need to accept that time spent with Sherlock is time I don't spend on other things? Yeah. But that's a price I'm willing to pay.

It's a trivial instance, but really. Think about it. The next time I feel overwhelmed or stressed or even happy I'm just gonna take a moment to consider some of the root causes of my emotion. When I get right down to the heart of it, I've realized that most of my problems aren't really problems at all. They're just inconveniences caused by charming little quirks in my perfect personality. A lot of my anxiety come from caring 'too much' about something or someone. Sometimes I get hurt. Sometimes I fall behind. Sometimes I just want to hit pause on my hectic life and watch a cheesy detective tv show.

But most of the time the experiences are worth the cost. Ok, no Sherlock has not changed my life. But it sure has entertained me for awhile. And, most importantly, due to an embarrassing amount of fan-girling, it's given me a great reason to have a good laugh at myself. And one of the biggest lessons I've learned in the past month is that laughing at yourself is often the best remedy for a gloomy day.

My current method to cure the grumpiness caused by a night of little sleep and a day of unproductive work? Why, this picture of course: its what got my mind on theory and causal logic in the first place.

Benedict Cumberbatch. The oddly attractive star of Sherlock.
He has aptly been described as looking like "a very attractive alien"

The obvious question here is thus: Do rubix cubes lead to sexiness? Or does Benedict Cumberbatch impart sexiness on rubix cubes? What exactly is the magazine that printed this trying to imply? Whatever the intended message, this picture—a perfect example of a totally ridiculous, geek chic, ugly is beautiful, confusion is cool fashion trend—is my new happy place.

It’s like the chicken and the egg conundrum, the pure silliness of which gets me chuckling whenever I think about it.

I haven’t reached a conclusion yet, but I have to admit that I’m seriously considering carrying a rubix cube around with me wherever I go from now on.

You know…on the off chance that it is, indeed, a 3-dimensional multicolored square that leads to sexiness….

Pensieve

"I use the Pensive. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form." -Albus Dumbledore 

Lately I've been feeling like I need a pensieve. There are just so many thoughts floating around in my brain. So many ideas and memories and fears and insecurities that I just can't tell which is which anymore. Am I freaking out about everything at once or is one thing triggering another? And why?


To try and sort these things out, I've been talking to a lot of people lately. And they've been great. I've gotten some good at advice, leaned on some very kind shoulders and experienced more than ever the blessing of friendship. 


But it hasn't been enough. Talking isn't enough. Sometimes you just need to shut up and listen to yourself instead of begging for one more person's attention. Because in the end no one else can solve your problems. And it's just between you and God to work them out. So writing is my pensieve. You know that kind of cheesy quote about how writing is like opening up a vein and just letting your heart pour out? Well, that's actually how I feel when I write. I can't explain it. Even if no one ever reads the words, just trapping my emotions into the cage of language is liberating. 


I guess its because when you give your demons a name they somehow become less threatening. 


Anyway, growing up, I've always wanted to be a writer and I've written stories for a long time. This summer, in Cambridge I worked a lot on a novel that has been in progress since high school. I've gotten good feedback on it and, when I look at it objectively, it's pretty decent. But I've just lost all passion for it. So it doesn't make sense to release these problems there.


Cause, see the thing that I've always loved about writing is the way you can release emotions into fiction. Many of the characters I've worked on have been emotionally auto-biographical. If something happens to me, you can be pretty sure that a character will get that written into their script within a month. It's like victim-less voodoo. Lately, I've just needed to say words. Any words. And not in the context of a story. Just in the context of my life and releasing that vein of emotion. I want to transform my crazy thoughts into a form where I can inspect them: turn them over, examine them inside out, analyze what's going on in my brain. I want a pensieve. 


So I wrote a couple poems lately. They aren't good. I've always sucked at writing poetry. Or even appreciating it for that matter. But a friend of mine shared some of her really amazing poems on her blog which gave me the idea to try it out. And it really was helpful to write them. I thought I would just include one because it embodies the way I've been feeling lately.

A word I whisper to myself

So softly

That my soul can barely hear it.

Or maybe it’s the other way

Bubbling up from beneath

to break free from my subconscious

The landscape of the human spirit

Is a treacherous place

But occasionally beautiful

Take a deep breath

Maybe you’re just hungry

Perhaps if you lie on your back

And raise your feet into the air

You will feel alive

Just don’t look too long—

A girl could get lost

These thoughts swimming around my brain are just a little too big for my 21 year old head. Maybe one day I will be wiser. Maybe one day it'll all make sense. I hope I can look back at this time and realize all the growth I've been through. But for now, its just a confusion of words, a very unorganized pensieve...

Home Sweet Home

Hey friends!

There has been QUITE a bit to report in the last month since November and I have clearly done a very bad job relaying it here. I keep thinking of blog entries I want to write and then life just sort of runs away from me. So even though there are a lot of things that I want to write about from Thanksgiving and Christmas I decided to separate things by topic and so today's entry shall be about homes.

What is a home? I grew up in the same room of the same house for 18 years. That's EIGHTEEN YEARS of sleeping on the same hard mattress in the same little room on the second floor of the same suburban neighborhood of the same under-appreciated mid-western town. So, it's not too surprising that moving to Utah for school was a huge shock for me.

But I was a little disturbed by just how homesick I got. Okay, scratch that. I was "what the hell is wrong with me?" disturbed by how homesick I got. It was me and not my parents who sobbed as they drove away. Instead of looking at it one semester or month or week at a time, I saw it as this permanent separation. My parents were leaving me forever. I had this completely unexpected physical reaction where on top of crying for no apparent reason about every day for the first week, I also was physically just sick to my stomach. So yes, literally homesick.

Here's an example: during the first few weeks of the semester a girl in my comparative lit class invited me to go to the CougarEat after class with her. I was trying desperately to make friends and do all the things I was supposed to do so I went. We were just talking about our homes and where we come from and out of nowhere I was crying. CRYING. In front of a complete stranger, in public about absolutely nothing. Luckily that girl was really nice and everything worked out. Her name is Lottie and she's now my roommate.

So that brings me to my little epiphany. What makes a home? When I left for school I missed the simple beauty of the midwest. I missed my fairly upper class neighborhood and the green grass and I missed the restaurants and the streets and the buildings I had grown up with. I missed words like "Baxter Road" and "Chesterfield Ward." More than that I missed the tight-knit group of friends I had made in high school. And most of all I missed my family. As the baby I had spent my adolescence watching one sibling leave home after the other. I felt abandoned but at least I still had my parents. When I went to Provo I was totally alone.

And then I started to meet people. They were just names and faces at first. Building a new life is difficult. I hated BYU, I wanted to transfer, to leave, to spend every semester on a study abroad, whatever I had to do to spend as little time on campus as possible. Now I can't imagine what my life would be like if I were somewhere else. The friends I made freshman year are, for the most part, my best friends now. I started college feeling like a weak displaced little girl with just a few friends from my home ward.

Now, three years later, I can honestly say that Utah is my home.

I make fun of it and there is no way that I could stay in Utah after I graduate but I now have a second family here. Of course I will take every opportunity I can to see my actual family in St. Louis, but its less of a physical need than it used to be. I'm so blessed to have people who treat me like a family member here. They take care of me, they listen to me and they love me unconditionally. Isn't that what a family is?

So, like so many before me, I want to just proclaim this lesson I have learned: that a place is only as good as the people in it. I love getting to go home and see my friends and family. They are amazing and and I love them I need them.

However, I've learned that to be independent isn't to go it alone. It's to allow yourself, even when transplanted in foreign soil, to meet new people-all on your own- and trust them enough to give them a piece of your heart. My independence isn't solitary. It's just a brand new start.

So here's to my second home and my second family who make it what it is. Here are some pictures of the spaces I've lived in in Utah over the past few years:
Freshman Year Dorm: 

It was decorated pretty awesome

But I was lonely there a lot of the time

Living in the infamous Liberty Square Sophomore Year was amazing not for the location but for the amazing girls that I had as roommates.

Kristy and I made a fort in our bedroom while everyone was away over Thanksgiving Break

Drinking 'Bubbly' together in fancy goblets from IKEA

It was a multistory fort. Here we are on the ground level

The day we moved out. I was sad to leave that apartment behind.

Pretty much says it all. 

As a third year, I feel like its all pretty old hat. Now my friends spread across two apartments right next to each other on the third floor of the Brittany Apartments. Lottie, Laura, Lacie and I live in one apartment and Katie, Ashley/Kristy, Elise and Whitney live next door. We have an open door policy and are always barging into each other's apartment. Thus effectively, I have 7 roommates. Here's where we live now:

My side of the room. I'm pretty proud of the decorations. Most of them are from my travels this summer

My desk. Notice the English themes everywhere? Some things never change

Lottie's side of the room. A rare moment when her bed wasn't made (usually she's quite faithful)

I've been told this is a "hipster closet"

Very exciting bathroom. Clean for once

Still rocking the wall map

Kitchen. It's never actually this clean

Alfred the smiley faced balloon is a good friend of Elise's

Our door

View from our front door. Could do worse, huh?

So here it is. My Provo home. More than the place, it's the people that make me feel like I belong here. I know it can't last forever but I wanted to take this blog to express how incredibly grateful I am to have been led to such amazing, smart, hilarious people who think that I'm pretty okay too.

Fort Night

The gang

Well, first of all I want to follow up and say that I DID in fact do something for Halloween. I dressed up as a french artist and went to the ward fhe Halloween Party. It was more fun than that sentence makes it sound and I thought my outfit was pretty awesome considering the time constraint. That's a real baguette I carried under my arm all night and instead of paint on my pallet we had ketchup, mustard and ranch dressing. It kind of grossed people out.

Roomies

The main topic of this post though is, obviously, FORT NIGHT! I'm not really sure how the idea got started, I  just began bringing it up in conversation, people seemed interest and I made it into an event and we had like 15 people over. It turned out to be pretty awesome but not quite as epic as the community episode I was inspired by. Here are some pictures:

Ashley got comfortable real fast

Putting the boys to work

Into the dark

I think this my favorite one cause it shows off just how tall and epic it was inside

Fort!

It was pretty cool

So yeah. Sorry I don't have much to say. Honestly, I'm just posting because I promised someone that I would before the weekend was over and the clock is a-tickin. Other than pretending to be a child again, I mostly just bummed around all weekend. Lottie and I literally laid in bed most of the day Saturday and most of this morning. We feel kind of like an old married couple. 

Feeling Funky

Hey folks.

So I don't know if its the weather changing, school or a general boredom with life but I have been, as my roommate Lottie puts it, "In a funk" lately. And I don't just mean for the past few days. It's been like a few months now. So, instead of writing a blog post in here where I tell you how sparkly and cool my life is like I usually do, I thought I'd just embrace the funk.

What do I mean by funky? There's a range. Sometimes I feel  like Hal here in this clip from Malcolm in the Middle  (start at 1:20 -2:15, ignore the french)

I scream and have dance parties and laugh and carve pumpkins and just act goofy. But sometimes I lean more towards Bella in that clip from New Moon when she just stares out the window while the seasons change all around her (I couldn't find it on youtube but I'm assuming my female audience knows what I'm talking about).

Mostly I just mean that even though I have a perfectly good life, get perfectly good grades, have much better than average friends and an amazing family, I somehow still manage to be anxious/low/unhappy/lonely. And I really hate that about myself, because like I said, my life is wonderful.

But you know, it happens.  If any of you have any good anti-funk remedies though, I would love to hear them.
And in the meantime I wanted to share this really awesome poem that my sister Laura posted awhile ago. I read it the other day and it really struck me. It's called "Touched by an Angel" by Maya Angelou:

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live in coiled shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare to be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

~Maya Angelou

With that being said, I love you all! And may everyone have a very Happy Halloween! I'm doing absolutely nothing this year so in order to feel a little bit less lame I wanted to share some my past Halloween costumes:

The Holy Bible

Hermione Granger

Chewbacca

Yup. I'm cool. Have a great weekend everyone!

Party All the Time

I know you all have just been dying to know whats been going on in the life of Jennifer Torrey.

So I will indulge you.

Here is a general day in my life:
8:00 alarm goes off
8:20 Wake Up
8:40 Walk to Class (I KNOW, I don't know how I get ready that fast either...)
about 9-12 or 10-2 depending on the day I have the following classes: Human Development, Comparative Politics, French Civilization, Algebra and New Testament

How are these classes, you ask?

Well, Human Development is what you would expect from a class listed in the department of "School of Family Life." My teacher is young, blonde, wears skirts every day, says "umm" or "uhhh" at least 3 times a sentence and uses a tone of voice more appropriate to third graders than college students. The information in the book is interesting though.

Comparative Politics is taught by another young professor but on the opposite side of the spectrum. She is tiny with short brown hair and screams CALIFORNIA all over her from her long drawn out vowels at the end of sentences to her arm extended our with the hand flopping down when she isn't thinking about it. Sometimes I just stare at her.

French. I'm not totally convinced that my French teacher even speaks English. On the odd occasion when an outsider will venture into the classroom for something he has the strongest French accent on his English that I think I have ever heard. Thank goodness for AP Euro in high school. It makes it so much easier to learn history in French. Although lately I've been having a few problems with note taking. For instance, did he say "L'amour de Marie Antoinette" or "La morte de Marie Antoinette"? The love of Marie Antoinette or the death thereof? Both seem equally plausible.

Even thought its usually incredibly boring, French is a pretty cool class because I feel so smart to understand almost everything. And jokes are so much funnier when you understand them in a foreign language.

Algebra: My teacher exchanges candy bars for participation. What else do I need to say?

New Testament: The class I should be studying for because I have a test today.

So yeah those are my classes.Now lets talk about free time.

Well, I've taken to reading for fun a lot more. The Provo library brings a lot of popular authors in to give presentations so I like to go to their talks and buy their books and get them signed. I've also decided to start being healthier so this past week I have gone jogging every day. EVERY DAY. Go Jenny.

To sum it all up, I generally get woken up on Saturday mornings by our neighbors blasting their cheesy country-gospel music through our cardboard walls. I burnt my leg with a curling iron the other day which didn't concern me too much until I got feedback from friends when I started showing off the resulting bright red one inch blister. My doctor commented on how gorgeous my hair was the other day before leaning in to take my pulse. It would have been creepy if my life was a CW show but, you know... I'm just a girl living in Provo.

Well, that's all for now folks. Don't you miss college? It's a party all the time.

Living Dreams

Hey All

Well as everyone knows, I'm back in the good old U.S of A and have been for a few weeks now. Thus the lack of posts. A lot of great things happened in that last week in Cambridge since when we got back from Amsterdam. I took finals, went to the final formal hall hung out in Stonehenge and Bath and wandered around London. I wish that I had written about it when it was fresh in my mind. Alas, life has been so crazy. I got back to Provo two days after school had already started and pretty much just hit the ground running and haven't really stopped.

But right now is a quiet moment so I thought I would recap things. Just for my own records you know?

So. I had two essays due that last week of classes not to mention a test and a final creative writing assignment for my supervision. I got back from Amsterdam, read over the supervision material I was supposed to be editing, I think I went to class and then I had like, I don't know, two hours to put my final assignment together for my supervisor. It was reworking a scene I had written the week before that she hated. I had to just cross my fingers and turn it in after a minimal amount of work-this is what happens when you blow off homework to go to Holland!

But, I have to say I was pleasantly surprised a few days later when I re-read it before my final meeting with Sarah. Can I just say for a second that I am a genius? I'm a genius! I thought tentatively to myself when I read it over before hearing Sarah's reaction. And then I got some confirmation. She loved it. Might be the least effort I've ever put into a final assignment.

What else? I wrote this awesome paper about how the construction of insecurity for United Nations peacekeeping forces isn't as strong as it is for conventional armies. I also wrote an essay about how Ultra intelligence shortened World War Two by as much as two years. (I knew much less about this topic). I then sat an exam that felt very much like an AP test and wrote some crap about terrorism or...something...America...media...I really don't even know. But that was the end of my Spooks and Spies Class!

After that it was party time. We had our final bash and we all went out on the lawn and took pictures and ate fancy food and reminisced about our last few weeks together. There was a dance and my friend Matt just got up on the stage and danced by himself with some 70s sunglasses on. Kid is awesome. Once it was dark out and people were starting to leave a few friends and I ran across the back lawn barefoot and down to the river (this is strictly forbidden!) That was fun.

On Friday I wandered around buying last minute souvenirs and then I went out to dinner with some friends.  I had to say goodbye to Cambridge because the next day I woke up at 4 am to get to London.

Oh.My.Gosh. It was absolute hell getting my luggage through London. I mean just getting it to the train station in Cambridge was impossible. We had to call a cab. See, remember how they broke my suitcase in France so that the pulling handle no longer worked? Well that was a HEAVY suitcase plus I had a duffle bag and a backpack loaded with bricks. It was just Rob and I for the day and we were going on a tour of Stonehenge and Bath with a tour company. It was so hard just getting from King's Cross to Victoria Coach station. Such a relief when we got on the bus and stuffed our stuff in the storage at the bottom of the bus. Rob's bag was ridiculously heavy and a journey that should have taken twenty minutes took about an hour. Anyway the tour was amazing. I've always wanted to see Stonehenge so that was really cool. And then Bath was beautiful. Such a continental city. I kept looking around and saying "are we seriously still in Britain? Because this feels like France." Things were just so light and orderly. We visited the Roman baths which was way cool but pretty crowded.

We also passed a very small jail on the road. It was in this tiny village and it was just this circular stone room thing big enough for one person where they used to throw drunk people for the night when they were getting to annoying.

Needless to say getting our stuff from the coach to our hostel in East London was yet another trial. It took about two hours. TWO HOURS. Luckily nice men kept offering to carry my suitcase up staircases in the tube. It was quite interesting to see the demographics that helped me. You'd think it would be a certain kind of man but one of them was this young punk kid like my age and he just picked my bag up for me like it was the expected thing.

And who said that chivalry was dead?

That night we met up with our friend Brett who we shared a triple bunk bed with in the hostel. The hostel was a novel experience for me because even though it was perfectly safe, I lead a pretty sheltered life and so waking up in a room full of shirtless men was a bit alarming. Especially when I found out later that a stranger had climbed up into Brett's bed at around 6 in the morning when he left to take some pictures of the early morning landscape. Poor Rob had to leave super early, ended up getting to the tube before it even opened and slept for an hour on the street.

That day Brett and I were super tired. We pretty much just rode a bus around London for awhile (by which I mean at least an hour and a half) and talked about life and problems and important decisions. Then we hung out at the British Museum and he treated me to a surprising amount of Empire history that he remembers from his Roman phase as a kid.

That night he left for the airport and it was just me. I got one of the top bunks in my new room for the night and there were I think 12 people in that room. At one point this European guy my age came in, shined a flashlight in my face because he was on the bunk below mine, apologized and then had a major freak out because he realized he had lost his Eurorail ticket. This sounds bad but hearing him cuss in English so sincerely with his European accent was simultaneously endearing and exasperating. It was like 1 in the morning and I was still so so tired. The next day I literally just bummed around the hostel and the surrounding area. I walked along the Thames and read and called home and sat in a park and read and ate food that I bought at a groccery store because it was a bank holiday and I couldn't find anywhere else. I walked quite a ways into the financial looking district and then turned back.

I then stayed up in the lobby of the hostel until 3 or 4 am when my taxi came to get me. It drove me all through London past all the tourist attractions which was kind of cool. A last goodbye. I had him drop me off at the wrong terminal so I had to wait for the airport tube system to open up and then changed to the right terminal. I was so tired when I finally got on the plane that I feel asleep before take off. Luckily I had the whole row (all two seats) to myself and so I got to lay down. Also there were personal movies which was fun because I don't always get that. Turns out it was the pilots retiring flight so they had some kind of ceremony when we landed in D.C. where they hosed the plane down on the tarmac. That was interesting.

I hung out in the D.C. airport, had to go through security again, got on the next plane to Salt Lake and was just so uncomfortable and so tired and the guy next to me was taking up too much room. My great friends Ashley and her (now!) fiance Aaron picked me up and gave me a huge hug when they saw me. I was then taken back to Provo, shown into my new apartment where my friends had nicely already transferred my storage unit stuff and went to school the next day!

It was quite the whirlwind. I guess a few interesting things have happened since then, but I'll finish this post with my trip and just say a few things.

It was amazing. I loved England and I fell in love with Cambridge. I learned a lot. I made some really great friends and I grew as a student. Going to Cambridge was one of the best experiences of my life and, to be honest, taking classes there just felt so natural. Even though BYU is great, I'm excited to get back out of the bubble for grad school. I loved the diverse types of people I got to meet. Kids from Harvard and Yale and UC schools and Science Po. Kids from places like Moldova, California, Greece, Holland, Texas and Estonia Pakistan and Lebanon.

I loved that I even though I was a visitor I felt at home.


Here are some pictures from those last few days:

London Tube

Brett and I riding the bus around all day

British Museum

Oh yeah and did I mention that we accidentally stumbled into Notting Hill Carnival? Biggest street party ever. Brett thought it was too loud. It was fun at first. But then we honestly just couldn't find the way out.

So many people. So much music. Lots of food.

The locals just watched the festivities from their balcony roofs! 

What a punk

My bird picture from Stonehenge. I'm actually rather fond of it.

You know what this is

Beautiful Bath

Roman Baths

I dipped my feet in Roman water!

Why is the water green?

That infamous suitcase. I threw it away when I got back here.

So to recap and get some closure on my amazing summer here are a few things I did over the last few months. It is by no means comprehensive, but I
-climbed a Scottish outlook in Edinburgh to see the sunrise
-Danced with my nephew
-Played in the ocean
-changed diapers
-Hung out with one of France's top cabinet members
-Danced with a drunk man in Amsterdam
-ate crepes
-Punted down the Cam
-lived at the top of a spiral stone staircase
-Threw my brother in law off a jetski
-Drank the Yorkshire air
-Watched Alex graduate
-rode an overnight bus
-danced at a traditional Scottish Caleigh
-Saw Shakespeare performed with the right accent
-reconnected with my mom's family
-played ghost in the graveyard in a beach house
-chilled out in a hot tube
-drank water that's older than dinosaurs
-took classes with brilliant students from around the world

Thank you 2011 for being one of the most amazing summers of my life. I hope you all enjoyed reading about it even a hundredth as much as I enjoyed writing about it.
Cheers!