There is now only one 4,000-word essay comparing Thucydides and Herodotus' views of democracy standing between me and freedom! I CAN do this. Of course, so far, I have done absolutely no work on this last obstacle, but I'm sure I will....soon. It's just that I am hopelessly immersed in the Christmas spirit, and all I really want to do is curl up by a roaring fire with a good book, hot chocolate, and a Christmas tree twinkling in the background. I'm tired. For the past few days, I've mainly just been hanging out with people and resting my mind. I raced hard to the finish on Thursday, preparing my last two tutorial papers and attending my last two tutorials. I will miss them, and yet I am unbelievably relieved. On Thursday night, we had our Univ. College Choir Concert (Handel's Messiah) at University Church...ahhh it was so nice to finally perform something this semester. I dearly love singing. Of course, I got stuck behind a huge head of hair and could barely see the conductor, much less all of the SCIO people that came out to support us. But, it was fine. I sang my heart out anyway:). Then we went to our choir party to have mulled wine (mmmmm) and mince meat pies (eeewwww) and, once more, were off to the King's Arms for drinks with a bunch of people. My schedule is so completely off now that I (nor anyone else in the Vines) go to bed around 5:00 or 6:00 am and don't get up until the afternoon. Which can be rather depressing since it now gets dark here around 4:00 pm, and waking up late equals on a few hours of daylight. I pretended to do work most of today and then went to the Angel and Greyhound with Alyssa, Ashley, and Sam...fun times. We drank up and played Trivial Pursuit. And now, for probably the majority of the past 5 hours, I've been in the kitchen talking. Actually, mostly just laughing.
Life here is good. And life at home is good. How does this work?
I wish I appreciated people more. Sometimes I love them, and sometimes I really can't stand them. That's my 6:30 am epiphany. Astounding profundity, I know.
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