Okay.  I am here in Oxford.  And I have just come down with 'Fresher's Flu'.  I am sneezing and sniffling in a library, filling out paperwork, and pausing to make contact with all of you lovely people out there. 

No, my plane didn't go down in the Atlantic.  However, I do feel like I'm treading water.  I thought I was doing better than expected, just tired.  Okay, I felt a sniffle coming on, but that could be weather or allergies.  But just to ensure my health, I went to the open market this morning to buy some fresh fruit.  Yesterday, I got a bike for transportation, but there was nowhere safe to lock it up at the market.  In the midst of contentedly and carefully looking at fruit, I accidentally bumped into a lady with the back end of my bike.  I quickly apologized profusely, but more quickly than that, she proceeded to unleash upon me in a bitter verbal rage, then stood staring with daggers in her eyes.  Stunned and not sure what to do, this last straw fell upon the haystack I had been quietly and graciously carrying.  All the loneliness, confusion, worry, homesickness, stress, fatigue and illness of the past week welled up inside and my eyes filled with tears.  I plopped down the basket of fruit I had been carrying, walked to a corner, buried my face in my sleeves and began to cry.  I barely pulled myself together to walk to Hertford College.  There in the cozy, ancient chapel I intended to find my solace and coccoon.  But, unable to pull the doors open, I sat on the stones outside, hiding behind a massive pillar and cried into my knees. 

I am thousands of miles from the familiarity of my Texas home, that I've taken for granted for so long... thousands of miles from my mommy and fluffy and dad and Diane and Richie and Beka and sweet and handsome Christopher.  Logically, I know that this is a temporary transition period.  Soon, things will be better and I will be a wiser and more compitent person.  I know all this.  But in my heart, I long to be able to hold the ones I love.  I miss you all.  I will have even less time soon, but I shall try to write to people if I can, and write in this more often when I get my computer.

By the way -- not all of the people here are as unfriendly as that one woman.  An older gentleman on the Hertford staff found me behind the pillar, and offered a very kind and sympathetic ear for the better part of an hour.  He said that he has a daughter my age and is a cat lover and can only imagine what I must be going through.

Right now, I am going to try to get out of the first meeting for novice rowers so that I may go home to sleep. 

You are all in my thoughts and love as I look toward brighter days.

Today, I felt something that I haven't felt in a long time.  I felt proud to be a Texan.  I felt like I really love my home, with its stupid old pine trees, and its stupid old heat, and its silly little drawl.  Everything is shutting down and everyone is leaving, and I have to leave too.  All of a sudden, talking to some jerk from New York on the phone, I wanted to yell at him, "Don't mess with me!  I'm from Texas!"  ......   Yeah, I know.  It surprised the heck out of me too. 

All of a sudden, when its way of life is threatened, it hurts.  And I find out that I want to preserve this place that I've taken for granted and the people in it.  But I can't.

I thought that I only felt 'home' here because my family was here.  But, when my family is talking of having to evacuate, I realize that although I want to be with my family, this part of Texas is the only 'home' I've ever known.

Billy told me that he’s known many people who are all for leaving, then they practically kiss the ground when they get back to the U.S.  I just thought that I wasn’t supposed to feel this way until after I got there.

Yesterday went much better than the day before, although I still didn't quite feel like myself.  I know that I've been hard to live with lately, but I haven't really been me.  You know?  I've been a ball of knots or a yo-yo or something.  Anyway, today, everyone was running around with their hair on fire.  Only I didn't realize it till this afternoon when I found out that people were evacuating.  I haven't been able to get hold of people, because phone service has been exceptionally bad.  Everyone is trying to call everyone at once.  I'm really worried about Chris's family and wish there was something that I could do to make sure that they're okay.  I actually got in touch with Beka, and she wants to evacuate but can't, and I wish I could help.  I hope that Paulie and his family are safe.  Meanwhile, my uncle and his family are all leaving for Oklahoma.  And my family doesn't know what to do.  For now, we're here. 

My parents are talking of sending me to London tomorrow, but all the flights are booked.  The earliest it looks like I can get out is Friday afternoon, when the hurricane hits.  I won't know till tomorrow if the flights will be cancelled.  I may have to fly to some major northeast town, spend the night, and leave for London the next morning.

I wish I could scoop everyone into my arms and magically keep them safe and happy.  But I can't even have dreams like that.

When you walk through a fire, not many people want to follow you.

Sometimes, when you are afraid of losing things, you push them away.  As I prepare to leave in September, I wonder how much I'm being pushed and how much I'm pushing.

I wonder how many friends I'll have left when I return.

I know this change is hard on everyone.  And I feel blessed by every bit of support I receive.  My family, I know, is doing what they can and trying not to let on to how much missing and adjusting they will have to do. 

I deeply appreciate the loyalty and selfless support that's been shown me by my friends, Beka and Chris.

I am sure that, whatever else happens, God will help me let go of what I need to when it's time.  Still, I'm grateful to have love to take with me that won't let go.