Today

I thought November at home was windy, with our traditional yearly power outages, but today the wind slams into you like a wall the moment you open any door. Then you run and it carries you along and if you spread your arms out it feels as though you might take off. I was experimenting with this and ended up doing some complicated but accidental dance steps down fifteen cement stairs. This put an end to my ambitions of flying.

So I moved to the library, where I'm typing this now, and it's unusually quiet except for the wind which is screaming above the roof and flinging dried leaves against the windows. It's been a long time since I've actually been alone, but right now it's just the bookshelves and ridiculously comfortable couch and photos of students past for company.

I came here to write my testimony (which is, notably, not what I'm actually doing right now)—we all have to share ours in our family groups. I have never had a good experience sharing my testimony because I hate being scrutinised and I hate opening up so it always ends in awkwardness, but I like hearing everyone else's so it's only fair. My family group has done six testimonies so far and every one of them has been interesting, but the thing that has stuck out to me the most is how every person has their own struggle. Nobody's life is charmed—now matter how much someone seems like they have it all together, they had or have their own particular battle to fight.

The wind died down for a while and now it's roaring again. When it rattles the bushes against the glass the sound overpowers the chatter of students in the hall outside. My battery's dying and it's almost lockup and I had better face the storm and run back to my loud and chaotic and wonderful room. Hello hurricane!

Edinburgh Adventures

Friday-Monday was travel weekend and most of us went to Edinburgh. The city is beautiful: old buildings, cobblestone streets, history in every corner, skeleton trees everywhere. I stayed in a hostel with seven other girls, roommates and honourary roommates (plus some random other people) but you couldn't walk two blocks without running into one familiar face or another.

On Sunday five of us decided to go to St Giles' Cathedral for church. Surprise surprise, thirtyish other Capernwray people showed up too. The service was interesting to observe, but there was nothing to take away from it...nothing challenging, nothing deeper. Beautiful words and that was all. There were no families there and pretty much no one under age 60.

The best part was the pipe organ (I think when I get back I will begin a Buy ROS an Organ Fund) and the most amusing part was Communion. Capernwray laws strictly forbid drinking alcohol—and the wine was legit wine, not grape juice—and not everyone realised this until they took a large mouthful of it. Some people did better at remaining solemn and unsmiling during all this than others, I was one of the others :P

After that some of us went to The Elephant Café (J.K. Rowling once wrote in the back room, but the only evidence of this is a sign in front and HP quotes graffitied all over the bathroom) and shared a haggis. Jaimee pointed out that it tasted very similar to Capernwray food and this is terrifying.

Went to Greyfriar's Kirkyard and the National Museum of Scotland both of which are filled with awesome old things. And Covenanter-related things. Google the Scottish Covenanters if you haven't heard of them, it's fascinating. The Covenant was first signed inside Greyfriars' Kirk, and part of the churchyard was at one time a prison that held 1200 Covenanters before they were executed or deported.

And it was Halloween. Gabby and Harmony decided to buy some food and give it out to homeless people, so a few of us came along. We walked around the city for a long time amongst the vampires and Jokers and Frankensteins and handed out sandwiches. I saw the Phantom of the Opera and someone who was obviously Doctor Who even if didn't realise it. :P There was occasional creepiness but the atmosphere was mostly lighthearted, just people having fun.

Until we stumbled across a crowd in front of St Giles', with an enormous burning branch in front on a stage in the darkness, and dancers in black robes and masks in a circle leering at us. And then people started chanting or stomping or something and it became louder and louder, and Megan and I got separated from the others by the crowd and panicked for a minute before finding them again. Creepy. More than creepy. Oppressive. We slipped into the Starbucks down the street and sat about talking until they closed and kicked us out, and then came back to the hostel and rejoiced in its amazingly fast free Wifi. So that was Sunday.

The next day, other than finding six fake moustaches on the ground, everything was back to normal. And now we're back at Capernwray with dinner and lectures just as if we had never left, and it's raining just like it was on Friday...but it's good to be back.

which is mostly rambling.

I miss a couple things about home:

-cooking. Being able to go into the kitchen, throw together ingredients, and see what happens.

-healthy food. Whole wheat and vegetables and natural/unprocessed/organic stuff!

-people under age 18

-Youtube (blocked on the school's network)

-NaNoWriMo (which would be so much fun to do here if a group of us did, but I have yet to find anyone else who's interested. Found one girl who writes vampire novels...)

-a library that doesn't charge to order things. Or take out CDs. Or DVDs.

Right now I'm sitting in the hall by the teapot. Lost my phone card and this is very sad. About to watch Sweeney Todd with the roommates. Our movie selection so far has consisted of 100% chick flicks so this makes me happy.

Duties switched. No more vegetables; it's now the sound room. Recording lectures and controlling microphones. The job comes with lots of perks (i.e. couch, fridge, skylight, the ability to see who is taking notes and who is playing Solitaire) although I think it was bad judgement on their part to put me there—far too many opportunities to make mischief. For instance the laser.

This week we had a series on Ecclesiastes which is brilliant. Both Ecclesiastes and said series. The first time I read that book I thought what the heck?? The second time I understood a little more. The theme of wanting something more: this is awesome. The author tries everything, work, pleasure, power, wisdom. Nothing fulfils the vague longing for something greater. Everything is meaningless. Under the sun. It only makes sense when he realises that God is there, above the sun and the limits of the finite world, weaving threads into beauty and meaning.

I started reading Harry Potter (this will shock half of my friends) for the first time (this will shock the other half). I liked the first book enough to stick with the series, because of the characters and because everyone says they get deeper and darker. But my favourite part was the beginning—the feeling of I was made for something more. The “something more” being spells and fantasy creatures doesn't quite satisfy. The hoping-for parts were better than the real thing. Because longing is something every person can understand and has experienced but the fulfilment of it we're all unsure about.

Letters

(written ages ago, real post coming soon...maybe)

Dear kitchen staff: Your food is good but I wish you would discover the joys of whole wheat flour. And fruit and vegetables (potatoes don't count). However I am having fun chopping lettuce and things after lunch (usually), especially with your loud and energetic music, and especially when I see you waving dishtowels and dancing.

Dear unbalanced paving stones: When it rains you make walking to the conference hall a strategic adventure. Thank you for ensuring my alertness in lectures by spraying muddy water in my face every time I accidentally step on you.

Dear Carnforth library: I am very sad that one has to pay 50p a week per CD and that my laptop wouldn't connect to your wireless internet. Other than that I whole-heartedly approve of you. I foresee a long and happy relationship.

Dear rooms that we share a wall with (3): I'm SORRY.

Dear Capernwray internet connection: The fact that you a) won't load Goodreads and b) flail and die at any attempt to upload pictures is disconcerting, but I think I am finally getting used to you. Amazing.

Dear roommates: You have music playing at all hours and you occasionally provide chocolate. I think I'll stick around. Maybe. (...No. Kidding. You rock.)

Dear architects: Thank you for including that handy window right above Harmony's bed. It's so much more efficient than using the door every time. (These are also very useful when you're cleaning rooms and don't know the door codes. I think I've crawled through almost every window in this building.)

Dear £5 phone card: I don't know what trick you were trying to pull the first five times I attempted to use you, but I CONQUERED YOU AT LAST. So ha.

Dear Edinburgh: October 29th.We're coming. Look out.

Dear Americans and Canadians around here: It is not pronounced ED-IN-BURG, just sayin'.

Dear God: where do I begin? If I had to sum up, I think a THANK YOU would be a good start.


sincerely, Kelsey.

Windows

That was about all I saw of Iceland.

Fulham

The third storey of a bookshop in Carnforth.

Three people on a budget + coin-operated dryers... This is what curtain rods are for.