Change of Address

One of the best trips eva..

It's been three lively and long years since I decided to start writing Of A Long Book. My life has changed immeasurably and it's pretty entertaining to go back and read my first few blog posts. I was still a mere child, working for my congressman and blissfully ignorant of all that life could be if only I took a few chances. It's been an emotional ride, a four-wheeler-on-sand-dunes kind of ride, and some of the happiest and saddest moments of my life. I've climbed a mountain, spent a couple summers in Paris, got to know some amazing chicos in Nicaragua, and published stories in a local magazine. But beyond that, I've learned how to be bold, to follow my gut even though it may have been easier to not. I have a lot more to learn, I know, but I feel so much more sure of myself than I did back in 2013 when I quit my job. I now know that "unexpected" does not have to mean "scary."

I've also had a chance to nourish some of the most important relationships in my world. Though I don't live in DC anymore, I feel closer to my DC friends and am so thankful that no matter how much time passes, we never have trouble picking up where we left off. I've grown real and adult relationships with my high school friends, and I've had the chance to FINALLY live in the same town as them. I've found new friendships in Nicaragua, England, Paris, and all over. My brothers and I have found our groove, and I no longer feel like they're there just because they are. And, of course, I've gotten to know my parents not as my parents, but as buddies, and they have gotten to know the grown-up (sort of) me. Words could never express how thankful I am for their generosity and kindness: for letting me live at home when I clearly had no idea what I was doing. I will always be grateful for their love, and I appreciate them on a deeper level than I think I even realize.

While it has been great, I do feel it is time to move on. So I'm off to London today and am excited to see what will come next. But this isn't goodbye! To keep up with people and to let my mom know that I'm still alive, I've started a new blog! Check it out to see what I'm doing over in Londres, the things I eat and drink and read and write. If you come visit I promise I'll write about you.

And of course, thank you for following this blog and allowing me to vent, explore, and share the things that I love. Readers are the Thing, and I couldn't be happier to have gone on this journey with you. So, thanks.

You sound like you're from London!

I think I've wanted to move to London since I read Pride and Prejudice sophomore year of high school. In college I bought a book called Living and Working in London that I meant to give to a family I knew that was moving there, but I never had the chance to give it to them. Or maybe I didn't want to part with it. Either way, it's been sitting on my bookshelf ever since.

So this announcement has been a long time coming: I'm moving to London in the fall to pursue a creative writing masters at Westminster University. Serendipitously, in the course of the past few years I've managed to shore up a decent number of friends who live in London, other places in England and across Europe. They're some of the nicest, most fun human adults I've ever met, and I'm excited to be able to see them more frequently. I'm also ecstatic to be working on my writing, with other like-minded people, in one of the most beautiful and exciting cities in the world. Is this real life?!?!

When I think about walking down those London streets, the cool air kissing my cheeks and the gray skies making everything around me glow in pale light, I wish I could go tomorrow. But I know a lot of things must happen before I can board a plane for Heathrow. I have to get a visa; I'm going to two bachelorette parties where I have to reluctantly say goodbye to the best friends a girl can have (even though I hope they will all come visit me). I have to pack, though I don't even want to think about the massive bag that I will lug around... I have to find housing; I have to keep writing; I have to mentally prepare for hearing all those accents all the time. It may be months away, but the planning starts now.

I'm not sure what the fate of Of A Long Book will be once I move across the pond. This move feels like such a large shift in my life, and I don't know if this blog will continue to fit the circumstances in which I find myself. I don't want to stop writing about my experiences, but maybe with an appropriate change to the way I present them to you, my dear readers. While I explore every opportunity I'll keep you informed. And if I do transition to another online location, I truly hope you'll follow along.

In the Ice Bar the last time I was there with some besties!

London, and all my love.

Here was my thinking after Kilimanjaro: What did I really have to rush back to in the states? While I'm over here, why not spend a few days in one of my favorite cities?

I studied abroad in London in college, and it was probably the best four months of my life. I know that semester had more to do with the people around me and the friends I made, but with London as a backdrop, how can you not love life?

We arrived in London from Tanzania at about 6:00am. Since I couldn't check into my hotel until 3p, I got some coffee and read my book, then hopped on the tube up to Columbia Road, where a Londoner on the trip told me about a great flower market. I asked him if that was where Eliza Doolittle was supposed to be from, but he said no, :( womp womp. Regardless, I had a great time perusing all the flower booths, the sellers yelling out "two for five pounds!" and smelling all the wonderful flowers. There were some cute shops around there too, and I ducked into most of them to see what hip London shops had to offer.

Flowers for days.

I was pretty close to Islington, my old stomping grounds, so I walked up to Angel station and looked around. It smells and looks the same, and all these wonderful memories came flooding back. I remembered having a very in depth conversation with a friend as we turned the corner onto the high street to go into the tube. I remembered feeling sorry for the homeless people who slept on the air vents to keep warm in the winter, and shuffling back home after (many) nights of drinking in pubs. Oh it was wonderful.

At this point, it's a wonder I was even awake, let alone walking with some mental faculties throughout a large city. I stopped at The York near Angel station for a fish sandwich, some "chips," and a couple glasses of wine. I read my book and helped a young couple fix their caddywompus table, glad to be out of the chilly wind for a while.

A few more shops later, it was finally past three o'clock, so I headed back to the St. James's Hotel to check in. I spent the rest of the night like an old lady: took a bath, ordered room service, and watched a movie.

--

I woke up rested and relaxed, and ready to do some shopping. I wandered down Regent Street, went into a few stores, and bought a couple things. My general goal was a book store near Marylebone called Daunt Books. I read about it a few months ago and couldn't wait to go in. It was basically the cutest bookstore in the world probably, and I loved getting lost in it while the rain ting-tinged on the long glass skylight.

After a little bite of hummus and pita bread in a pub, and a glass of wine of course, I walked over to Baker Street, where...you know...

#obsessed #bethbreeding

*sigh*


So then, I decided to walk down Baker Street back to my hotel. It was a gray, rainy day, and I loved getting to see a different part of the city. Right down Baker Street is Selfridge's, and I couldn't not go in, especially since my mom and I love that show "Mr. Selfridge" on PBS. I noticed that they had a salon on the top floor, and I was in no hurry, so naturally I got a manicure. The manicurist got all that dirt out from underneath my nails from the mountain (ewww), and I was feeling so pampered.

I spent the final night of my trip at the hotel, content to just read my book, eat a delicious meal, and drink some good wine. I know most people don't ideally want to spend a few days alone in a foreign city, and I probably would have loved some company for part of it. But after being in close quarters with 32 other people for the better part of a week, it was nice to have some time to think, to process what I had just done, and enjoy civilization. As usual, I'm already ready to go back.

Anyone want to come?

Taking Flight

In about 27 hours, I leave for London!! and in exactly 10 days, I will (hopefully) be on the summit of Kilimanjaro, waving to the world. Our wonderful outfitters have provided us with all the information, and our "cruise director" for London, Danna, has set everything up for us so beautifully, that I'm not even worried that it's supposed to be raining the entire time we're there.

I'm a bit like Bilbo, heading off into the unknown, with only a map and a wizard to guide him and his hairy little feet. Okay so not exactly like that, but I do feel the same. I'm also reading The Hobbit right now, in case you couldn't tell.

There are so many details to sort out for a big trip: passport and visa, packing the right things, getting shots, calling credit card and phone companies, and generally making sure you have all your ducks in a row while you're gone.. But after everything is ready, after all the late-night trips to Walgreens and drives to Backwoods in Fort Worth, the only thing that's left is the delicious anticipation of what's going to happen, who I will meet, and how I will be changed up there. That's how I'm feeling today...I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't super super nervous. But that usually goes away after the first glass of wine on the plane.

As is usually the case with events where months of preparation are required for only a few hours of enjoyment (think weddings, 5k races), I want to relish every moment I am there, because I know it will be over quicker than I can say "Jambo." Preparation for this has led me to some great moments, personal accomplishments, etc, and that was only the training! It's time to see what the actual event has for me. In one of the many guides I read about climbing Kili, and they said to write down or say aloud to your tent mates five "miracles" that you witness every day on the mountain, without repeating one miracle. I am promising myself that I will look for those miracles, be it an African sunset, spotting a random bird I've never seen before, or simply making it through another hour of hiking.

Next time I write, I'll be in the middle of an adventure, with the world either on my shoulders or below my feet. Let's get this thing started.

“There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.”  --The Hobbit

A Study in Sherlock

Every few weeks or so, I post something about a new show that I love or have recently started loving. One of my first posts was about Downton Abbey, then it was Breaking Bad, then Hell on Wheels, and most recently, Call the Midwife. The reason I so easily become obsessed with these shows is because they are great stories that are very well told...it's that simple. If you know me, you know I love a good story, be it a novel, a movie or a TV show. Writing that manages to produce rich characters, plot and dialogue is hard, so I'm always impressed when they make it look so easy.

Today, I'm talking about "Sherlock" on the BBC. While I did like the movie with Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law, that's for another day. And I have some serious problems with "Elementary" on CBS... with Sherlock in New York with a female Dr. Watson. Now, I have no issue with Lucy Liu as Watson, but Sherlock Holmes and London go together like tea and crumpets, and to separate them is just...nonsensical.

The BBC's "Sherlock" has everything that I expect from a Sherlock Holmes show, and they've successfully modernized it to current day London. Instead of letters and elementary forensics, there are cell phones and advanced science helping out the Baker Street duo. Watson is the narrator in many of Arthur Conan Doyle's stories, and in "Sherlock," he is writing a blog about all their adventures. Of course the focal point of the show is Sherlock, who is unpredictable and unpleasant, but somehow so appealing. For me, it's those rare moments of sentiment and softness that make him likable.

This is not one of those moments, but one of the first scenes we meet Sherlock, he's sizing up Watson to be his roommate, and it kind of gives me chills how awesome it is:

There are so many other great quotes that I couldn't choose just a few, so of course I turn to Buzzfeed to do the work for me. Check it out.

Also, I would go on about how handsome I think Benedict Cumberbatch is, but I will spare you.

Another great thing about this show is that it comes on right after Downton Abbey, so my Sunday nights are so chock full of drama and intrigue that I can barely stand to get up the next morning. So, let's raise a cup of tea to many more nights of "Sherlock."

I'd love to know, what's your favorite show? Do you love Sherlock as much as I do? What other shows should I be watching?

Backstory on the Story

Lately, I've been neglecting what I think of as "serious" writing in favor of more journaling, making notes on my phone, and just generally observing people and situations. I mean, this is my first blog post of the new year, for heaven's sake! When this type of writers' block (perhaps it's just laziness...) happens, it's nice to be reminded of the things I have written in the recent past that I am extremely proud of. Below is an excerpt from my second article published in the Abilene Scene Magazine, and I'm thrilled it's finally here and up on the website!

I'm pretty ecstatic about all this. Mad props to Sandi Haynes for this photo.

When I started writing this article, my intention was to simply write about the incredible month I had in Paris last summer. But somehow, it turned into an homage to my hometown, with a few snipits of my semester in London. I wanted to add my stint in Spain too, but by that point, it was as long as War and Peace, basically. On the same note, I wish I could have added in all the lovely people I've met in all my travels and my amazing family and friends at home, but we writers sometimes have to "kill our darlings" to make the story stronger. (I learned that little piece of advice last summer, too.)

The craft of writing amazes me. In this project, I saw the story come alive, and take its own form. I thought it was going to be about one thing, but it turned into something incredibly different.

Here is an excerpt from the article, and please read the whole thing over at the Abilene Scene website!

As my feet dangled below me, 25 feet above the Seine River, I peeked over my knees at the murky surface. Across the river, a guitar player strummed an American song that I had heard before, but I couldn’t remember the name or the lyrics. His audience was a group of 20 people on the steps that climbed to the top of the quai to Rue Saint Jacques. Hovering above us, the bells of Notre Dame struck the late hour and reminded me of my limited time left in the City of Light.

“Please don’t Bogart that wine, Jennabeth,” Andrew called out in his Australian accent. Relinquishing the bottle of Rosé, I tore off another piece of bread and smothered it with the almost-foul smelling Camembert cheese. I chewed the warm bread and thought of an early autumn night years before in Abilene, the air still hot from summer’s lingering breath, when I picnicked on Chick-Fil-A and iced tea in the parking lot of Shotwell Stadium before Friday night’s game. Texas’ obsession with high school football is practiced with the same vigor with which French people practice their cuisine and people watching.

I had been in Paris for a month-long writing workshop with the Paris American Academy, a school I found through none other than Google. I had come to the decision to spend the summer in Paris when, after quitting my job of almost three years, I began to look for an adventurous interlude. Paris seemed like a perfect place to explore while avoiding real life responsibilities and my hometown, which I felt had become increasingly dull over the past year. After reading reviews of the program online, I was convinced that this was the adventure I was looking for, that I would make friends, and that my suitcase was (hopefully) big enough. I set off on a hot afternoon in July to discover what France’s capital city had to offer.

A Thrill of Hope

My favorite view. And Santa came!

I always love Christmas. If you couldn't tell that from my recent (first!) published article, I'm happy to reiterate. The music, the movies, the fire, the tree, the food, the family...all come together to make my favorite holiday. This year, we traveled to South Lake to be with my mom's family last weekend, and were back in time for a Taliaferro Christmas on Wednesday morning.

My favorite gift was definitely my Anthropologie house shoes, which I pretty much haven't taken off since yesterday morning. My other favorite gift was being able to sit around the fireplace with my parents and my brothers and talk and laugh and drink white cranberry mimosas (white cranberry juice, Prosecco and frozen cranberries!)

Christmas Eve shenans.

While presents and christmas carols flow throughout the season, I try my best to remember the reason for the season, and give thanks for Jesus' birth and his coming to Earth. My faith has been tested this year in many ways, but I continuously hold on to it, gathering strength from it when I'm at my weakest. For that I'm grateful.

Now I'm off to run three miles with my brother as I pick up my training for Kilimanjaro. Stay tuned the next couple of weeks for my updates on buying gear, training, planning my 2-day layover in London, training, and more training.

I hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and have a Happy New Year!!