Well, break is officially over and it's time for school to start again...at least I have an awesome class schedule! I'm truly doing what I love:

-Children's Literature
-Creative Writing Short Story Seminar
-Creative Writing Survey Course (Short Fiction, Poetry, Drama) Lecture

I am in love with school :]

And now...back to homework...will write again soon when I have time!

-Nikki

Hey guys! So I've found a pretty cool website that allows you to apply for scholarships for college by submitting your creative photos, videos, and blogs, and of course I thought of Gaia. Share the wealth, right?

Anyway, the site is called Brickfish, and they have all sorts of "campaigns" (such as "Favorite Toy" and "Favorite Holiday Memory") that you can submit too. I've actually submitted quite a few entries, so if you felt like voting for any of mine, I'd course very much appreciate it. :)

Check it out:

http://www.brickfish.com/Pages/PhotosAlbums/PhotoView.aspx?picid=766147_83414006

So yesterday, my boyfriend James, his mother Jenny, and I decided to go on yet another nature ramble through the English countryside. Having grown up in the crowded, congested, car-filled depths of Los Angeles, where "nature" is a two hour drive away, I continually find it amazing to have woods and wild animals just outside the town limits.

Anyway, we woke up to a fine layer of frost blanketing the ground for miles. It wasn't snow--the beautiful outlines of the leaves and twigs could be clearly discerned, they looked like they'd been painted pearly white in the night. Crisp, cold, and clear, the air sang to us in chilly wind whistles to come outside and face it down.

We started rambling over a moor (Emily Bronte would be so proud!), stopping to pat the heads of playful golden retrievers that gamboled by, chatting with their owners and just generally enjoying the country scenery. Ice was spilled over half-frozen lakes like glass, and I suspected others had passed before us, chucking chunks of ice into the center to see if they would sink or shatter. Robins flitted playfully from beneath bushes, peering up at us with unexpected intelligence, their beady little eyes twinkling with winter merriment. Do birds know its Christmas? I wondered idly to myself.

Suddenly, we came across a wooden gate, coupled on both sides by wires that wrapped around the fields for miles. I held out my be-gloved hand and almost touched one--but then, I spotted it. A little yellow sign with black print, and picture of an almost cartoonish lightening bolt zapping a little stick figure. "Er, is that an electric fence...?" I asked, with some trepidation.

Yep. It was an--an electric fence. What was an electric fence doing out in the middle of nowhere? i was soon to have my answer...

Scottish highland cattle--great, big, shaggy, brown, hairy cows, the size of small cars, giant primordial beasts that looked more like Jurassic woolly mammoths than nice, friendly, black and white spotted milk makers. I mean, these things were massive. MASSIVE. They could have crushed a full grown 200 lb. man without a second thought.

I mean, did I mention the horns? These giant BULLS had HORNS that could have skewered a soul like a shishkabob. And they where everywhere behind the fence where we walking, just grazing in the frost-bitten grass, or huddled sleeping beneath a tree. They were so majestic, and so beautiful, and so unbelievably scary.

I never thought I'd be scared of a cow, but then again, I never thought I'd meet a member of the authentic Scottish highland cattle herd. Good old England and its many surprises--first windmills, now giant cows.

Well, I've been mulling over this idea for a while, so I thought I'd finally put fingers to keyboard and write it out.

Now, as an English major/hopeless romantic, I've read a LOT of Jane Austen and her contemporaries and near contemporaries (Edgeworthe, Brontes, etc.). The central focus of many nineteenth century novels written by women tends to be around the social network; balls, dances, strolls in the park, cairrage rides to country manors, summers in Bath, sitting room chatter, dinner parties and the taking of tea set the stage for these "pictures of daily domestic life." The narrators are above all concerned with their social standing and their social networks; the compliment of a handsome young gentlemen or warm smile of a fellow young lady can be the plot of twenty pages. These are overtly social novels.

Now I look around at twentieth and twenty-first century life, and I see the same basic elements of social life depicted in Jane Austen's novels here, only altered by technology. We are still just as obsessed by the comings and goings of those in our social circles--one only has to look at the phenominon known as "Facebook stalking" to know this true--only instead of balls we have "girls nights out" at the danceclub, instead of dinner parties, we have "wine and cheese and fondu nights" with friends, and instead of cairrage rides to the country we have sports cars being "taken for a litte spin." We, as a society, and we as women, are no different than the characters populating Jane Austen--only the rules and means of communicating have changed.

It is why social networking sites, cell phone texting, and instant messaging are so popular. This desire to constantly "keep in touch" does not represent a sudden explosion but rather a gradual evolution. Bridget Jones' Diary is a modern day reworking of Pride and Prejudice in more ways than one.

So Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter away, and be content in the knowledge that Jane Austen would be awed and proud indeed.

-Nikki

Ah, Christmas...

In LA, where I hail from, nothing much but an over-commercialized background scheme to daily life (a few cheesy carols in the mall, ironic spray-painted pictures of snow on laundry mat windows, etc.) But here in Europe, Christmas is a whole other to-do.

Last year, when I was backpacking through Europe, I spent Christmas with a German family in Munich, and had a traditional German Christmas (snow, sausages, pickles, the works). This year, once more, I didn't spend Christmas at home, but instead in the UK with my significant other and his family at his house in Redhill. Lovely, just lovely.

It was a traiditonal British Christmas all the way. Woke up to stockings stuffed to the brim with little presents (glitter, a chocolate face mask, a glowing egg, some chocolate santas, some fruit pic-a-mix, a bookmark, a tangerine, and much more) left by "Father Christmas." Got dressed in festive clothing (red and green shirt, red and black traditional woolly Scottish scarf), and of course a Santa's hat, and popped downstairs into the warmth of the living room, where a twinkling tree, crackling fire, and frost on the windows were waiting for me.

I was literally jumping for joy, hopping all around singing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "Happy Birthday Jesus!" (even though I'm Jewish...can still wish the guy a good one, can't I?) We all piled over one another to get to the tree, grabbed presents, and in moments there was a flurry of wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, and sellotape flying through the air. I squieeeled with delight as I unwrapped a hot water bottle, comfy slippers, a new book, some more girly products, a white snow owl stuffie ("Hewig" obviously), and countless other thoughtful gifts. It was like a scene out of Dickins. Everything was picture perfect. We spent the day eating a big Christmas dinner, playing board games, and watching DVDs. Even though I was once again away from home, I could not have asked for a better Christmas. :)

The next day for boxing day James, Jenny (his mum) and I went on a mysterious nature ramble through the woods. We bundled up tightly to face the elements, and trekked through brush and bramble. While hopping along, upon cresting a little hill...I saw it, off in the distance, the most random thing imaginable...a traditional WINDMILL!

I couldn't believe my eyes! There we were, taking a normal, innocent walk through the woods, when we came upon a sleeply little hollow with a few houses gathered about a windmill. It was like stepping into a faery world from the past...I wondered if it was still in use and if the shirefolk every made their bread with it. And I thought to myself...I would never get these sort of experienced in LA. No, only by traveling the world and spending Christmas abroad can one possible expect to wonder upon Dickinsien Christmases and mysterious magical windmills. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful...

Lastly, I'd like to thank the last two people who so kindly commented on my first entry here at GAIA. I appreciate your support and value your comments :)

With love,
Nikki

Hello, I am new to this wonderful site, but very excited to become a member and explore GAIA further. I think it's fitting that for my first blog entry, I post my answers to the GAIA Scholarship, since they embody so much of who I am and who I desire to be. These answers required a deep amount of personal reflection, and I took quite awhile to compose them. I hope they inspire you--if you find you share my interests, please feel free to contact me.

With love,
Nikki

What is your purpose? (25 words or less.) If you had to describe your calling in life, what would you say? What are you here to do? What gift is yours to give to the world?

The globe is one big puzzle and I must snap each piece together;  my purpose is to travel to the most obscure destinations on Earth.

What do you love, and how do (or will) your actions demonstrate this? (250 words or less.) We at Gaia believe that following your heart is the best way to help the whole planet. What do you care about, and what do you most enjoy doing?

To travel is to break boundaries and explore not just the geographic world, but your own body, soul, and limits. I am never content staying still, but must constantly seek new adventures; consequently, I love to visit, explore, and live in foreign places, with foreign people, exchanging foreign ideas. In twenty-one years, I have independently chosen to live in three very different countries and travel to thirteen exotic nations. I have hiked across wet, cacophonous Fijian rainforests where green cathedrals dotted with rainbows of birds form the only shelter, befriending natives at the local watering hole and hitching a ride on the back of a canvas-top truck. I have backpacked from the London Eye to the suburbs of Budapest, couchsurfing with strangers who became friends across Amsterdam canals, Paris art museums, Luxembourg fortresses, Austrian Butterfly Houses, and even a German Christmas table.  I have embarked on political missions into the rebel territory of Chiapas to meet with Zapatista Revolutionaries and indigenous Mayan women, where I have stirred a pot of mole sauce and learned what it’s like to be a woman in THAT world.  I rented an apartment in Italy one summer, befriended my neighbors through our open, glass-less window, ate gelato, and learned Italian. I spent a year in the UK, just because. Through my journeys, I have tested my limits, broke my personal comfort bubble long ago, and left a footprint in every place that changed the world one small step at a time.

Write your ideal job description. (250 words or less.) Forget about job titles like 'doctor' or 'artist' or 'lawyer.' If you could get paid just devote your life to? What would your days be like? Bottom of Form

A job is something that must be done or achieved; my life must be lived, therefore living is my job—and if I could live as a traveler, I would love my job of living. I present a sample traveler’s itinerary:

 

8 AM: Wake up, grab fresh cup of coffee and local breakfast food from Youth Hostel bar, read available newspapers in Italian, English, and Spanish, and discuss foreign events with fellow travelers.

9 AM: Set out towards the train station, arrive, find seat, and write in diary. Entry: Yesterday was incredible, and completely emotionally daunting. Israel is a hard but beautiful land; the deserts outside the city roar at night, I think they howl with the lost voices from the Diaspora. I always knew it was my fate to return to my ancestral homeland, but I didn’t expect to feel so at home in a country I never lived in. There are no words to describe how a Jewish person feels upon putting a secret message of hope in the Western Wall…

2 PM: Arrive at the Kibbutz, meet my fellow commune members, and take a warm afternoon nap—dream for the first time in Hebrew. Sigh contently—I have arrived home, for now.

 

Israel is one pin on my Hope Map, but there are many places I desire to go—Tibet, Chile, the Galapagos Island—If I could get paid to see the world and write about it, I would consider my time on Earth well spent.

-Nikki