Here's a long one...

I must apologize to anyone following my blog and wondering which edge of the planet I fell off from. Michaelmas term ended last Friday, December 4. Actually—before I go any further—you know what's sad? I had an internal debate about writing the above statements British-style, meaning it would look like this (differences italicized):

I must apologise to anyone following my blog and wondering which edge of the planet I fell off from. Michaelmas term ended last Friday, 4 December.

So yes, I'm beginning to warm up to the British ways of spelling and syntax. Using 's' instead of 'z' seems more... elegant? Putting the day before the month makes more sense? Don't even get me started on the imperial system versus the metric system (although, admittedly, I still can't think in Celsius).

Anyways, term finally came to an end. Now I actually have some time to catch up and breathe after 8 weeks of nonstop information overload. Because there are no exams until June, the lecturers just keep on piling knowledge on your plate, expecting you to somehow miraculously retain it all. This is what medical school must feel like. It's both a curse and a blessing that each term only lasts for 8 weeks: vast quantities of information is crammed into 8 weeks—but only 8 merciful weeks.

Of course, it's not as horrible as I make it seem. I may have studied long hours, reading papers until my eyes bled, trying to eke out essays I was never properly prepared to write when I was at Brown—but on the whole, this past term has been extremely enjoyable and I look forward to the next term (though not the one after that: "exam term"). Outside of lectures and work, I had plenty of sanity-saving diversions. I learned how to fence, went on fungal forays and photoshoots, helped out with Cambridge Triple Helix events, traveled around London, explored the streets of Cambridge, pennied people senseless at formal dinners, chilled at student jazz sessions, socialized over tea at Tea Society meetings and department tea rooms, invited friends over for wine and cheese or Irish coffee, attended organ concerts, sang Christmas carols with the college chaplain, stayed up late playing bananagrams, and fell asleep many times cuddling with a dedicated cuddle-buddy.

Oh, before I start forgetting all the funny ways British people say certain things, I will try to list all the differences I've encountered in person:

• Beta, omega, theta = "bee-tah", "o-mee-gah", "thee-tah"
• Tomato = "Toe-MAH-toe"
• Aluminum = "Ah-lu-MIN-ium"
• Vitamins = "VITT-a-mins"
• Stand in line = "Stand in the queue"
• To vacuum = "To hoover"
• The letter Z = "The letter zed"

And British students don't make "that's what she said" jokes. I kind of miss them.

I've run out of meaningful things to say for now, although I may touch upon the subject of killing mice in a subsequent post. In short: I have to decapitate baby mice for my research project, and although I can do it without fainting or crying, I still feel pretty bad about it.