Chapter 1:

So, I’ve landed!

I have to admit, I’ve started this blog post about four times right now, it’s almost as if the hiatus that I took hindered my ability to write instead of acting as a source of renewal. Or maybe it’s just that I am so fucking hungover right now that I am sitting in my twin sized bed, feeling the hunger gnaw in my belly with a slowly intensifing headache as the alcohol oozes out of my pores. And I know the chain smoking didn’t help at all last night.

*Cough, cough*

When we last left the story, your not-so humble protagonist Shannon was going through some very mixed emotions. The further she descended into the mental fray, the less she wrote. Plus it is incredibly difficult to write when you are super happy with your life. I cannot convey this enough, but not working ROCKED!

The emotional crisis was a result of her acceptance into Oxford. On one hand she was excited for England and to play sociologist and find a relationship with a hetero-sexual man but on the other she was scared shitless because, despite her claims how she was ready to leave NYC since her life there got stale and unchallenging, she really was going to miss the place. You know, because it is the Center of the Universe and everything.

So, that brings us here. Me writing in my twin bed, sitting crossed legged, and having just gotten off of the phone with my mother—who called me at 6am her time. Actually, 5:45am to be exact. Jewish mothers. That is all I can write about them for now or else we're looking at a forty page post.

I thought I was going to be all culture shocked and what not, but surprisingly so far it feels normal. Actually, I am doing so well that I’m afraid that I’ll have an emotional crash. But maybe my psychological well being is aided by the bottle of little white xanax pills sitting in my nightstand and knowing there is a chemical parachute should my mind leap from sanity.

I want to write more, there is so much to say but I am exhausted. The conversation with my mother took the energy reserved for writing. Sorry. Instead I am going to shower and grab lunch and make my way for my errands this morning. Ugh. Fucking errands.

But yes readers, I’ve landed safe and sound. My room is littered with half unpacked suitcases and designer jeans, and an attempt at making it a bit more welcoming than the nicotine colored walls would suggest.

If any readers know where the rich sugar daddy types hang out at Oxford, with the pound so strong, I am in dire need to be taken care of. Or, it looks like I am going to have to freelance.

ADVERTISING, people.

Fuck, that reminds me. Purely accidental, after my going away party my friend Dorothee and I ended up at Smith and Wollensky’s at 1am, drinking a $300 bottle of wine and eating fillet mignon, courteousy of a “mentor”. If you know of any such “mentors” in the Oxford area, please let me know. Photo available upon request.