As it is now officially spring break, and I managed to pump out 4,000 words of academic drivel in less than 24 hours, I suppose I should update this, and you, on the state of my life.
First, I obviously don't remember exact details of the last 19 days, which means you miss out on all of the boring stuff. Lucky you guys. There is no structure beyond first. I'm too tired for that.
Mostly, I've been watching every episode of House ever and the occasional downloaded movie. Zodiac and The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford were both worth my time, and I'm not sure that I could make a definite decision as to which I liked better. They're totally different movies, and both played to some of my movie soft spots. I would like a tattoo of Jesse James' face. The real Jesse, not Brad Pitt in the role of... It's one of my absolute favorite stories of all time. And the folk song about his life (covered by the likes of the Pogues and Bruce Springsteen, if you've never heard it) is a brilliant piece of Americana. I will probably use it as a lullaby for some future child. Anyway, Zodiac bothered me for some indeterminate reasons, and I think Fincher was lazy in parts. Entertaining, though.
All of that media was a futile attempt to put off my essays indefinitely. It worked, in that I didn't actually start them until yesterday morning, leaving me until noon today to write 4,000 words, half on the symbolism of blood in insular art, and the other half on the Gupta and Chinese influences on Northern Qi Buddhist art. I turned them in at approximately 11:05 this morning, so well before the deadline. And I got 4ish hours of sleep and saw the sunrise. Rather, would have, had it not been so dreek (pertaining to weather, Google it). I think they're decent and will at least score a passing grade. Good enough.
Yesterday, between bouts of essay writing, I went on a field trip to one of the Historic Scotland labs to see Pictish stones being conserved/refurbished. It's one of those art historical considerations that you never really get to see or think about, so it was pretty awesome. I'd consider, and have done, a career in historic preservation. There's not much money in it, but it's pretty noble. I'm a big believer in making sure that some history is available to future generations. I also got the chance to talk to my teacher some in the taxi over to/bus back from the lab. I thought she was American, but it turns out that she's actually the product of an American Air Force cadet and a British mother, and she grew up on military bases in the UK and Europe. So technically American, but has only lived in the states for less than 10 years of her life. She had some interesting suggestions for what I should look at as possible thesis topics and said that she had exactly the same dilemma in school that I'm currently having (see: no fucking clue where my interests really lie). She also said that if I decide to apply for an internship at the Philly Museum of Art again (which I did last summer, and was summarily denied), I should ask her for a recommendation, because she has a friend who works there. That's a pretty sweet connection to have, so go me. If I end up going to grad school in two years, and find an internship during next school year, I'll definitely pursue that route.
Now, I am just waiting for Lena to get here. Her flight is supposed to land in Glasgow in a matter of minutes, and she should be in Edinburgh by dinner. Which is good, as I am already starving and have eaten all of my food. I think I have some frozen green beans left.
Speaking of food, sort of, I've eaten a disgusting amount of candy the past few days. I bought an assortment of little Cadbury chocolates the other night, because I anticipated needing them for paper writing. Two days later, I got a package from my grandmom with more Easter candy, as well as a small packet of rice cakes, a package of ramen, and some instant oatmeal. Also, lots and lots of Peeps and other fun things (like a deviled egg made out of chocolate that = awesome). Easter candy is by far my favorite. But yeah, I made the oatmeal, ramen, and rice cakes into meals to last for 3 days. That, plus 2 liters of Coke Zero and way, way too much candy. I should probably have gone into diabetic shock at some point.
And on to health matters, I had the distinct pleasure of dealing with the socialized health care system the other day. I thought I had an ear infection (I don't, but I had chronic ear infections when I was little leading to tubes being put in my ears blah blah blah I have an innate fear of them), so I decided to go to the campus health center. Basically, it was the same as the USC health center (crowded, noisy, etc), but more hectic. The only time for walk-ins is 9-10am, Monday to Friday. Total pain in the ass. I waited for about an hour and a half to be seen, and I was the second to last person in the waiting room. People who came in after me were seen before me. I don't really care, but that's like 100 times worse than my one experience with the USC health center. The doctors sort of had patients on an assembly line, calling the next patient as the previous one was walking out of his or her door. I know it doesn't sound that bad, but it was pretty stressful, haha. Erin claims that socialized health care fails in that it doesn't give doctors any incentive to actually figure out what's wrong with a patient. I'm all for the system, but, going by the get-you-in-and-out mentality that I saw, it definitely needs some consideration. I'd like to think that doctors don't need incentive beyond actually helping someone. I know, idealism. But the doctor was very nice, at least. I'm pretty sure I could more accurately diagnose my problem, and I would like that hour and a half of my life back, but whatever. Live and learn.
Now, I think I am going to watch more House, as I have no more class until August. Yeah, unh, whut.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Deep introspection.
I don't really remember exactly when I posted last, but I can pretty much guarantee that I haven't gone out and done anything exciting since then. That's not to say that I've been totally idle though. I've been doing a lot of thinking, actually. This is going to be one of those posts that helps me sort out some thoughts and doesn't really do anything for you guys, so, sorry. I'm using this as an actual blog as opposed to a travel one right at this moment. Meaning, feelings more than narrative events.
First, what I've actually physically done recently: nothing besides going to a party last night. And watching lots and lots of Bones and NCIS. Also, looking at the puppies currently up for adoption in the LA area right now. Basically, forcibly manipulating my heartstrings. The Christmas episode of Bones actually made me cry, but that's neither here nor there.
So, yesterday, Jerry (a guy that works for the management company from which the Awesome [what I've just now decided to call next year's apartment, for obvious reasons] is being rented) was supposed to fax me a copy of our lease to sign. I set it up with Jonathan, one of the other SC students here, so that I could use his fax machine and would pick up the lease from his place at 9pm and then go to a party that one of his friends was having. I walked to the dorm where he lives, in tempest-grade winds I might add, only to have him tell me that the lease had never come through. Jonathan is slightly awkward, at best, so I don't think it ever crossed his mind to let me know this before I walked all the way over there, but whatever. The party was in the dorm, because things like that are allowed here. We got there and FOB was playing and beer pong with Corona was occurring. I should probably say that this was a "surf" themed party. So of course, I felt right at home. Over the course of the night, which was really only three and a half hours, Jonathan and I became reigning beer pong champions by winning 3 games. More importantly, though, I met the Canadian version of me. Her name is Alysha, and she's an ANTH major. We talked about a lot of stuff that I've had on my mind lately, because it's been on hers too. Basically, I have a huge girl-crush on myself. Anyway. We also proceeded to finish off a partial bottle of Grey Goose, so go us.
But yeah, the stuff that's been on my mind is life. More specifically, the real world vs. academia. I know, I'm a junior, and it's way too early for this crisis, but since basically everyone that I know is now facing/has just faced it, mine is being prematurely precipitated. That, and it's really all I ever think about. My concerns are two-fold, really, with lots and lots of little creases.
Concern #1 goes something like this: I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I know what I like. I know what I believe. I know what my weaknesses are. I don't know how all of those things are going to work towards my happiness in employment. I worry that I'm only working toward a career in museums/arts administration because it sounds cool to say. I could be the young, hip professional arbiter of taste that I can't be in my personal life, for a variety of reasons. When I really think about it though, that isn't so much what I want. Yes, I love art. That one fact is completely undeniable. But, I hate the economics of art. I hate pretending that taste is something that should be qualified and commodified. I know, I'm discounting entire fields of intensive study by tremendously interesting scholars (hello, Kant), but it just sort of makes me feel sick. Erin and I argue about this occasionally, as my view is idealistic and naive and hers is grounded in solid communication theory, but for both music and art I am a proponent of basically socialist, corporation-free realms. Impossible, blah blah blah, not my point. My point is, really, that I don't know if I can buy into the institutions of art. Sell my soul to the Man, if you will. I think museums are valuable resources, in that they have the potential to expose a lot of people to a lot of really important cultural productions, but I have a million tiny problems with the whole system. These million tiny problems (concerning things like ownership and struggles over repatriation and private vs. subsidized and having to pay to see objects that should belong to all of us) add up to a possibly insurmountable issue for me. The good that museums do is so intellectually specific and so clouded by the way that we've chosen, as a society, to run them.
Ultimately, I love art, but not the art world. And I've been thinking about this in terms of what else I could do that would be less morally compromising for me. There are tons of jobs that one can get with a liberal arts degree, completely outside the realm of art etc. But if I don't want to work in art, what else do I care about? Nothing. This is another crease of this problem. It is art, and only art, about which I am deeply passionate.
This leads me directly to Concern #2. If I love art so much, why not just become an academic? Write about art, in my own way, forever. Be free to study art/people interactions, which is what makes up the bulk of my interest. Because I don't know if I can do it. The thought of grad school is kind of making me panic at this moment. My entire life, I've had my sights set on eventually getting a Ph.D and being Dr. Lynch. There aren't any of those in my family. I know, though, that to do that would require at least 3 more years of schooling- 1 for a master's, and 2 more to write a doctoral thesis, defend it, etc. Technically, I could skip the master's and go right into a Ph.D. program, focusing on my chosen topic. Problem there is, I can't even fathom being able to choose a topic for intensive research any time soon. Also, I like the idea of a taught master's, because it would enable me to get a more solid practical foundation, something that an art history degree doesn't provide. I would get my master's in something like museum studies or public art, actually qualifying me to work in the art world. And then, maybe, I would have more of a focus for my eventual thesis. But maybe not.
Like the art world, I have a million small problems with this route. Mostly, I'm tired of this life. I don't know how much more research I can do before I lose all interest in everything. I feel like the number of papers that I have left in me is quickly becoming so small that just my BA might do me in. Especially if I plan on writing an honors thesis next year, which I do. And I can't even begin to imagine what I'm going to write that on, though Roman Britain looms large in my mind right now. The other problem with the academic life is money. More specifically, I don't have any. I'm living a life of self-denial, and it's destroying my will to do anything. I can't go out to eat when I want to. I can't buy all of the clothes that I'd like to have. I can't live a life of idle luxury haha. But really, it's too constrictive for me. I would be more than happy to live out the rest of my life in a shack in the woods, as I keep threatening. But that's not a feasible option right now. I would still need to be able to travel sometimes if I did that, and I don't have the savings necessary for that venture. The need to travel comes from another deep-seated issue, that being my wanderlust. I can't stay in one place forever. I hate making new friends, but it's emotionally easier than getting tired of my surroundings. My issues are varied and terrible, let me tell you.
What that all comes down to is this: I think I am going to need to take AT LEAST a year off after my BA. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do, but right now, staying in LA and trying out museum work doesn't seem terrible. I can then decide how much my soul is going to cost and if I have the emotional strength to go back to a life of research and deprivation. A master's only takes a year, two part-time, so I think, in all likelihood, I will get one. Whether or not I can stop after that, I don't know. I have to evaluate my reasons for wanting a Ph.D. Mostly, I think, it's a selfish, shallow thing. Does getting a Ph.D. make me a better person? Nope. Will it help me make the world a better place? Nope. Really, then, is it worth what it's going to cost me (mentally and economically)? I don't need to decide that right now.
Of course, I'm going to apply for all of the fellowships/scholarships that I can next year. I think most of them can be deferred for a year anyway, so it couldn't hurt. And hell, who wouldn't want to be a Rhodes' Scholar? I'm as good as Bill Clinton, at least.
Now we get to the really crazy part of all this personal reflection- my alternate job choice, should museum work really be as terrible as I fear it might be. I am seriously, SERIOUSLY considering the possibility of becoming an FBI agent. I know, completely and totally ridiculous. Almost out of character for me, even, but only if you don't know me and where I come from. My father is a retired police officer. He became a police officer because he wanted to help people, and every other job that he'd tried failed to make him happy. Basically, I am beginning the long road of following in his unsatisfied footsteps. I don't really think of being an FBI agent as working for the Man, though it is basically the pinnacle of "Man-ness." The CIA, on the other hand, is totally working for the Man. The draw of the FBI is, as my Facebook status says, the art crimes division. I would have plenty of excuses to see the world, I'm sure, while still being able to feel that I am doing some Good and making the world, and the art world, a better place. This really does fit into my belief in art being for everyone, as I would be mostly trying to catch people who remove art from the public realm in order to sell it (for great economic gain) into the private realm. I'd be like the Robin Hood of hippie federal agents. Yes, I really and truly can justify anything. But I'd at least have a stable income and job security and the ability to move around a lot. Downsides, of course, being the need to get in serious shape before I can even think of Quantico and the possibility of being shot at all the time. I firmly believe that being a Special Agent in the FBI is approximately 4,000 times cooler than being a doctor in some obscure field of art history, though. And more socially conscious.
What's really funny about all that, and ties back to Alysha, is that she feels exactly the same way. Except, instead of becoming an FBI agent, she's looking into becoming a Mountie. I'm not even kidding. I think we're going to have lunch later this week, so we can continue to be awesome together.
If you read all that, you now know more about my psyche than anybody else in the world, basically. Congratulations. Now go do something constructive.
- C
First, what I've actually physically done recently: nothing besides going to a party last night. And watching lots and lots of Bones and NCIS. Also, looking at the puppies currently up for adoption in the LA area right now. Basically, forcibly manipulating my heartstrings. The Christmas episode of Bones actually made me cry, but that's neither here nor there.
So, yesterday, Jerry (a guy that works for the management company from which the Awesome [what I've just now decided to call next year's apartment, for obvious reasons] is being rented) was supposed to fax me a copy of our lease to sign. I set it up with Jonathan, one of the other SC students here, so that I could use his fax machine and would pick up the lease from his place at 9pm and then go to a party that one of his friends was having. I walked to the dorm where he lives, in tempest-grade winds I might add, only to have him tell me that the lease had never come through. Jonathan is slightly awkward, at best, so I don't think it ever crossed his mind to let me know this before I walked all the way over there, but whatever. The party was in the dorm, because things like that are allowed here. We got there and FOB was playing and beer pong with Corona was occurring. I should probably say that this was a "surf" themed party. So of course, I felt right at home. Over the course of the night, which was really only three and a half hours, Jonathan and I became reigning beer pong champions by winning 3 games. More importantly, though, I met the Canadian version of me. Her name is Alysha, and she's an ANTH major. We talked about a lot of stuff that I've had on my mind lately, because it's been on hers too. Basically, I have a huge girl-crush on myself. Anyway. We also proceeded to finish off a partial bottle of Grey Goose, so go us.
But yeah, the stuff that's been on my mind is life. More specifically, the real world vs. academia. I know, I'm a junior, and it's way too early for this crisis, but since basically everyone that I know is now facing/has just faced it, mine is being prematurely precipitated. That, and it's really all I ever think about. My concerns are two-fold, really, with lots and lots of little creases.
Concern #1 goes something like this: I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I know what I like. I know what I believe. I know what my weaknesses are. I don't know how all of those things are going to work towards my happiness in employment. I worry that I'm only working toward a career in museums/arts administration because it sounds cool to say. I could be the young, hip professional arbiter of taste that I can't be in my personal life, for a variety of reasons. When I really think about it though, that isn't so much what I want. Yes, I love art. That one fact is completely undeniable. But, I hate the economics of art. I hate pretending that taste is something that should be qualified and commodified. I know, I'm discounting entire fields of intensive study by tremendously interesting scholars (hello, Kant), but it just sort of makes me feel sick. Erin and I argue about this occasionally, as my view is idealistic and naive and hers is grounded in solid communication theory, but for both music and art I am a proponent of basically socialist, corporation-free realms. Impossible, blah blah blah, not my point. My point is, really, that I don't know if I can buy into the institutions of art. Sell my soul to the Man, if you will. I think museums are valuable resources, in that they have the potential to expose a lot of people to a lot of really important cultural productions, but I have a million tiny problems with the whole system. These million tiny problems (concerning things like ownership and struggles over repatriation and private vs. subsidized and having to pay to see objects that should belong to all of us) add up to a possibly insurmountable issue for me. The good that museums do is so intellectually specific and so clouded by the way that we've chosen, as a society, to run them.
Ultimately, I love art, but not the art world. And I've been thinking about this in terms of what else I could do that would be less morally compromising for me. There are tons of jobs that one can get with a liberal arts degree, completely outside the realm of art etc. But if I don't want to work in art, what else do I care about? Nothing. This is another crease of this problem. It is art, and only art, about which I am deeply passionate.
This leads me directly to Concern #2. If I love art so much, why not just become an academic? Write about art, in my own way, forever. Be free to study art/people interactions, which is what makes up the bulk of my interest. Because I don't know if I can do it. The thought of grad school is kind of making me panic at this moment. My entire life, I've had my sights set on eventually getting a Ph.D and being Dr. Lynch. There aren't any of those in my family. I know, though, that to do that would require at least 3 more years of schooling- 1 for a master's, and 2 more to write a doctoral thesis, defend it, etc. Technically, I could skip the master's and go right into a Ph.D. program, focusing on my chosen topic. Problem there is, I can't even fathom being able to choose a topic for intensive research any time soon. Also, I like the idea of a taught master's, because it would enable me to get a more solid practical foundation, something that an art history degree doesn't provide. I would get my master's in something like museum studies or public art, actually qualifying me to work in the art world. And then, maybe, I would have more of a focus for my eventual thesis. But maybe not.
Like the art world, I have a million small problems with this route. Mostly, I'm tired of this life. I don't know how much more research I can do before I lose all interest in everything. I feel like the number of papers that I have left in me is quickly becoming so small that just my BA might do me in. Especially if I plan on writing an honors thesis next year, which I do. And I can't even begin to imagine what I'm going to write that on, though Roman Britain looms large in my mind right now. The other problem with the academic life is money. More specifically, I don't have any. I'm living a life of self-denial, and it's destroying my will to do anything. I can't go out to eat when I want to. I can't buy all of the clothes that I'd like to have. I can't live a life of idle luxury haha. But really, it's too constrictive for me. I would be more than happy to live out the rest of my life in a shack in the woods, as I keep threatening. But that's not a feasible option right now. I would still need to be able to travel sometimes if I did that, and I don't have the savings necessary for that venture. The need to travel comes from another deep-seated issue, that being my wanderlust. I can't stay in one place forever. I hate making new friends, but it's emotionally easier than getting tired of my surroundings. My issues are varied and terrible, let me tell you.
What that all comes down to is this: I think I am going to need to take AT LEAST a year off after my BA. I don't know where I'll go or what I'll do, but right now, staying in LA and trying out museum work doesn't seem terrible. I can then decide how much my soul is going to cost and if I have the emotional strength to go back to a life of research and deprivation. A master's only takes a year, two part-time, so I think, in all likelihood, I will get one. Whether or not I can stop after that, I don't know. I have to evaluate my reasons for wanting a Ph.D. Mostly, I think, it's a selfish, shallow thing. Does getting a Ph.D. make me a better person? Nope. Will it help me make the world a better place? Nope. Really, then, is it worth what it's going to cost me (mentally and economically)? I don't need to decide that right now.
Of course, I'm going to apply for all of the fellowships/scholarships that I can next year. I think most of them can be deferred for a year anyway, so it couldn't hurt. And hell, who wouldn't want to be a Rhodes' Scholar? I'm as good as Bill Clinton, at least.
Now we get to the really crazy part of all this personal reflection- my alternate job choice, should museum work really be as terrible as I fear it might be. I am seriously, SERIOUSLY considering the possibility of becoming an FBI agent. I know, completely and totally ridiculous. Almost out of character for me, even, but only if you don't know me and where I come from. My father is a retired police officer. He became a police officer because he wanted to help people, and every other job that he'd tried failed to make him happy. Basically, I am beginning the long road of following in his unsatisfied footsteps. I don't really think of being an FBI agent as working for the Man, though it is basically the pinnacle of "Man-ness." The CIA, on the other hand, is totally working for the Man. The draw of the FBI is, as my Facebook status says, the art crimes division. I would have plenty of excuses to see the world, I'm sure, while still being able to feel that I am doing some Good and making the world, and the art world, a better place. This really does fit into my belief in art being for everyone, as I would be mostly trying to catch people who remove art from the public realm in order to sell it (for great economic gain) into the private realm. I'd be like the Robin Hood of hippie federal agents. Yes, I really and truly can justify anything. But I'd at least have a stable income and job security and the ability to move around a lot. Downsides, of course, being the need to get in serious shape before I can even think of Quantico and the possibility of being shot at all the time. I firmly believe that being a Special Agent in the FBI is approximately 4,000 times cooler than being a doctor in some obscure field of art history, though. And more socially conscious.
What's really funny about all that, and ties back to Alysha, is that she feels exactly the same way. Except, instead of becoming an FBI agent, she's looking into becoming a Mountie. I'm not even kidding. I think we're going to have lunch later this week, so we can continue to be awesome together.
If you read all that, you now know more about my psyche than anybody else in the world, basically. Congratulations. Now go do something constructive.
- C
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
No idea.
This post is going to be full of nothing. Seriously. It's the point in the semester where I'm falling into a routine, so nothing new has really happened in the past week. That's not entirely true; there are lots of little things and plans that are in the beginning stages. But not the stuff of an epic post, that's for sure.
Mostly I've been trying to figure out what's going to happen this summer, both with me and my baggage. I have a somewhat large suitcase that I don't want to cart around when I go traveling, so I've started looking into what options I have. Those are: excess baggage shipping or short-term storage. There are lots of boring details, but yeah. No decision yet. Shipping is moderately expensive, but it's also less for me to worry about. But that's still in the future, and it's the boring part of planning the summer.
So far, I know that Lena is coming to Scotland for spring break, which will be tons of fun (obvs). I have to look into what day trips are possible from the home base of my flat. There are a lot. Scotland's a good country for staying one place and seeing lots of others.
As far as the summer goes, I have very, very preliminary plans with people to see: Belgium (with Ashley), Sicily (with high school friends), Dijon (sort of a homecoming trip with Ella), Zurich (to visit a friend who's on co-op there, if I can ever get in touch with her), and then Eastern Europe with Lena before Kate arrives for our grand tour. That's a lot of traveling, actually. And I still don't know the actual dates of my finals, so I have to wait and see how this all shakes out. Also, how much money, now that I have a little bit more at my disposal, plus a tax refund.
This weekend was mostly uneventful, really. Thursday was a WOLS (whisky) meeting, with a representative from Glenmorangie. It's a really big distillery here, and the whisky is good, but slightly sweet for my taste. Whisky, like wine, can be fruity, believe it or not. I know, I owe 'SC Winos a whiskey post. I'll get to it eventually.
Friday: I woke up somewhat early to walk over to Princes Street for breakfast. I've been living without a mug for these past 2 months, which means no tea or hot chocolate at home. That wasn't really working for me anymore, and McDonalds is having a "buy a breakfast meal, get a free mug promotion." That's my sort of bargain. So I went to the mall, got money for the week out of the ATM that I use for free thanks to my bank, and got breakfast. I had pancakes, if you're wondering, because I've been craving them. They were actually really good, as they were sort of thin and not super cake-y or anything. It was less than 3 GBP, which is about what I would have paid to just buy a mug on its own somewhere else. I'm all about the bargain. After that, I took a long walk through a part of the city that I haven't really explored much, and then it started raining. It was a nice walk, though. I also got 10 GBP for participating in an international students focus group for the university. That was sweet.
Saturday: I went to dinner with the large group of SC people who were up from London and elsewhere in the UK for the weekend. We then saw Equus, which is an awesome play, though disturbing. And I have seen Lily Allen's little brother naked, for a prolonged period of time. Not too shabby, I must say. After that, we went out on the town, which involved going to a club, deciding the cover was too much, and then taking a taxi somewhere else. The somewhere else was a "club" that was more a multi-level bar. It was kind of cool, and drinks are reasonable if you don't think about the exchange rate (which I've learned not to do), so it was a successful night.
Sunday: church and nothing.
Monday: class. I even went to my 9am lecture. I also went grocery shopping and decided on eggs as my lunch foundation for the week. It's an exciting life I lead, as I've said before.
Um, other news. None. I'm probably going to enter that NYT contest, mostly because Stephanie's entry pisses me off so much. I just need to figure out how to make my sordid sexual history something entertaining and profound. And I have to write 2 2,000 word essays besides that, due March 20th. Basically, 6,000 words in a month, both voluntary and mandatory. Considering the fact that I wrote 20 pages in a night, I think I'm set. I do need to go to the library and make copies of the sources for my papers though. Today or tomorrow's task.
And now, I am going to make eggs and pancetta. Life actually is pretty exciting, from my vantage point.
- C
Now with added links:
(For clarification purposes, as I often forget that all of the pieces of my life aren't actually fully interconnected yet.)
Mostly I've been trying to figure out what's going to happen this summer, both with me and my baggage. I have a somewhat large suitcase that I don't want to cart around when I go traveling, so I've started looking into what options I have. Those are: excess baggage shipping or short-term storage. There are lots of boring details, but yeah. No decision yet. Shipping is moderately expensive, but it's also less for me to worry about. But that's still in the future, and it's the boring part of planning the summer.
So far, I know that Lena is coming to Scotland for spring break, which will be tons of fun (obvs). I have to look into what day trips are possible from the home base of my flat. There are a lot. Scotland's a good country for staying one place and seeing lots of others.
As far as the summer goes, I have very, very preliminary plans with people to see: Belgium (with Ashley), Sicily (with high school friends), Dijon (sort of a homecoming trip with Ella), Zurich (to visit a friend who's on co-op there, if I can ever get in touch with her), and then Eastern Europe with Lena before Kate arrives for our grand tour. That's a lot of traveling, actually. And I still don't know the actual dates of my finals, so I have to wait and see how this all shakes out. Also, how much money, now that I have a little bit more at my disposal, plus a tax refund.
This weekend was mostly uneventful, really. Thursday was a WOLS (whisky) meeting, with a representative from Glenmorangie. It's a really big distillery here, and the whisky is good, but slightly sweet for my taste. Whisky, like wine, can be fruity, believe it or not. I know, I owe 'SC Winos a whiskey post. I'll get to it eventually.
Friday: I woke up somewhat early to walk over to Princes Street for breakfast. I've been living without a mug for these past 2 months, which means no tea or hot chocolate at home. That wasn't really working for me anymore, and McDonalds is having a "buy a breakfast meal, get a free mug promotion." That's my sort of bargain. So I went to the mall, got money for the week out of the ATM that I use for free thanks to my bank, and got breakfast. I had pancakes, if you're wondering, because I've been craving them. They were actually really good, as they were sort of thin and not super cake-y or anything. It was less than 3 GBP, which is about what I would have paid to just buy a mug on its own somewhere else. I'm all about the bargain. After that, I took a long walk through a part of the city that I haven't really explored much, and then it started raining. It was a nice walk, though. I also got 10 GBP for participating in an international students focus group for the university. That was sweet.
Saturday: I went to dinner with the large group of SC people who were up from London and elsewhere in the UK for the weekend. We then saw Equus, which is an awesome play, though disturbing. And I have seen Lily Allen's little brother naked, for a prolonged period of time. Not too shabby, I must say. After that, we went out on the town, which involved going to a club, deciding the cover was too much, and then taking a taxi somewhere else. The somewhere else was a "club" that was more a multi-level bar. It was kind of cool, and drinks are reasonable if you don't think about the exchange rate (which I've learned not to do), so it was a successful night.
Sunday: church and nothing.
Monday: class. I even went to my 9am lecture. I also went grocery shopping and decided on eggs as my lunch foundation for the week. It's an exciting life I lead, as I've said before.
Um, other news. None. I'm probably going to enter that NYT contest, mostly because Stephanie's entry pisses me off so much. I just need to figure out how to make my sordid sexual history something entertaining and profound. And I have to write 2 2,000 word essays besides that, due March 20th. Basically, 6,000 words in a month, both voluntary and mandatory. Considering the fact that I wrote 20 pages in a night, I think I'm set. I do need to go to the library and make copies of the sources for my papers though. Today or tomorrow's task.
And now, I am going to make eggs and pancetta. Life actually is pretty exciting, from my vantage point.
- C
Now with added links:
(For clarification purposes, as I often forget that all of the pieces of my life aren't actually fully interconnected yet.)
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I might as well be Polish.
Before I get back to the matter at hand, which happens to be the football match, I'd like to express a sudden desire that I have: to go to Poland. Totally random and weird. Mostly, it's because I've rediscovered a love of Polish food, and I think it would be a fascinating place to go. And what led me to this realization was pretzels. In Tesco, I looked high and low for pretzels. British people eat crisps (potato chips) pretty goddamn exclusively. They love LOVE their crisps and have more flavors than I would even know what to do with. Fortunately, I've given up potatoes for Lent (seriously), so I don't have to tackle them yet. Flavors like prawn cocktail and pickled onion and steak. I can't even begin to approach the strangeness of British crisps. But pretzels, yeah. They don't eat them. But, in searching the Tesco, I found some- in the Polish section. What? Are pretzels Polish? I thought they were German. Anyway, I've since fallen in love with the Polish section, because I can also find things like sesame sticks and chocolate covered gingerbread filled with strawberry jelly there. Poles are brilliant. And my love of Polish food isn't completely random, as I had a Polish babysitter when I was really small. This old couple who were the parents of one of my aunt's best friends from high school (complicated, I know) used to watch me, and I loved them, from what I'm told. The old man died before I can really remember, but I saw the woman a lot up until a few years ago, and we all called her Ciocia (Polish for aunt) Helen. She used to make kielbasa and sauerkraut, which was my absolute favorite food for a long time. Unfortunately, no one in my immediate family makes it ever. Maybe I'll teach myself, since she died a few years ago. Also, chruscik (which are sort of cookies, and my favorite ever [I ate a whole box of them when I went home for Christmas]), pierogies, and stuffed cabbage (which isn't only Polish, obvs). We eat a lot of Polish food in my family, I've just realized. Right, so, Poland. Anyone interested? Mainly you, Lena, since that makes the most sense.
Also, I am so grateful for Blogger's auto-save function. Really.
On to the matter at hand, which happens to be the football match on Sunday. I met Glenn outside a bar/restaurant sort of halfway between our apartments (his is off the street that I live on), which he chose. Except I've realized that to get there, he had to walk the opposite way of the way that we actually had to go. His flat is closer to the stadium than our meeting place was. So he walked out of his way to meet me there, which is sort of odd, but it's not like anything here is that far away. We walked to the stadium, which is over in New Town. The walk was super pleasant and sunny, so that was nice. It's adorable how much Glenn misses the sun, and you can sort of tell he's absorbing it whenever it happens to be out. He's one of those people that'll just stand with his eyes closed, face up to the sky. Also creepy how closely I observe. God, whatever. He was in charge of directions, and there was a moment in the middle where he was fake exasperated at the fact that one spot here can have 3 different street signs designating it. It is totes confusing. But we found the stadium without having to do a huge circle like at the British Museum, so points for us. Once we figured out how to buy tickets, and I did that because he didn't have enough cash (I am owed 4 GBP, ensuring that we'll have to hang out again sometime), we went into the stadium. I wish I had taken a picture of the ticket booths, because they're so goddamn shady. Think an amusement park, but with plywood structures to walk through that are barely person sized. And then you have to go through a revolving metal thing, like at the exit to some subways, that is also barely person sized. As Glenn said, "There is no way that somebody who is overweight would get through that." It was basically the hardest thing ever, and I annihilated my heel (not on the foot that hurts now, randomly). Aside: I am referring to this as a stadium, because it is called Easter Road Stadium and holds 17,000 people (hah), but you'd really never know it. Granted, we were on the side that hasn't been redone yet, but still. It is tiny. This is mainly because the Hibs (like the Hearts) are abysmal. Seriously awful.
We got into the stadium and looked at the food stands, and they don't jack up prices at sporting events here like they do in the US. It's thrilling. And as to what foods were available, I saw pizza, chips (w/ or w/o curry, I have no idea), delicious-looking burgers, and meat pies. All of which can be, and is, eaten with brown sauce, the condiment of choice for Brits. I was curious about this brown sauce when I got here, so I bought a bottle. It is A-1. They put steak sauce on pizza. Never will I understand their eating habits.
As for the match itself, awesome. Football matches are incredible, even when you're watching a team as dismal as the Hibs. There were chants, many of which used the word "bastard" (I think one was actually "You're a bastard") and one of which was to the tune of "Lord of the Dance." I couldn't understand the words to most of them, but everybody else sure knew them. There was this guy standing in front of us (because nobody sat in the side of the stands that we were in, the seats were just stood on by people) who was the stereotypical old football hooligan. I have no problem believing that he's stabbed somebody for being a fan of an opposing team. He was terrifying and totally amusing at the same time. Football matches are very much a male pastime, though there were a few women there. No children younger than probably 10 or 11 though. Which, the amount of cursing being taken into account, not surprising. Not really the place for small, impressionable children. The guy sitting next to Glenn, who had no front teeth, was there with his son, and their bonding involved screaming curses at the opposing team/fans. Sweet.
All said and done though, the Hibs won. It was a fairly exciting game, for how poorly they played. Both Glenn and I were yelling, and he hi-fived me after all of the goals ahaha. I love enthusiasm for sports, and he's certainly got that. It's infectious and, again, adorable.
And there you have the football match. I would love to do that again, because it's such a good way to pass the better part of a day.
Other than that, nothing exciting has happened in the last few days. The fire alarm went off at 5am today, so we all had to evacuate and stand outside in the cold, waiting for the firefighters to come. That was thrilling, let me tell you. It only lasted like 15 minutes though, so not too bad. Still, an unpleasant way to be awakened from a deep sleep. I don't know why it went off either, probably someone upstairs burning food or something. And my apartment no longer smells like chemicals, so I'm not going to die from poisoning or anything.
Now, I really have to do my reading for tomorrow. No more procrastination tonight.
- C
Also, I am so grateful for Blogger's auto-save function. Really.
On to the matter at hand, which happens to be the football match on Sunday. I met Glenn outside a bar/restaurant sort of halfway between our apartments (his is off the street that I live on), which he chose. Except I've realized that to get there, he had to walk the opposite way of the way that we actually had to go. His flat is closer to the stadium than our meeting place was. So he walked out of his way to meet me there, which is sort of odd, but it's not like anything here is that far away. We walked to the stadium, which is over in New Town. The walk was super pleasant and sunny, so that was nice. It's adorable how much Glenn misses the sun, and you can sort of tell he's absorbing it whenever it happens to be out. He's one of those people that'll just stand with his eyes closed, face up to the sky. Also creepy how closely I observe. God, whatever. He was in charge of directions, and there was a moment in the middle where he was fake exasperated at the fact that one spot here can have 3 different street signs designating it. It is totes confusing. But we found the stadium without having to do a huge circle like at the British Museum, so points for us. Once we figured out how to buy tickets, and I did that because he didn't have enough cash (I am owed 4 GBP, ensuring that we'll have to hang out again sometime), we went into the stadium. I wish I had taken a picture of the ticket booths, because they're so goddamn shady. Think an amusement park, but with plywood structures to walk through that are barely person sized. And then you have to go through a revolving metal thing, like at the exit to some subways, that is also barely person sized. As Glenn said, "There is no way that somebody who is overweight would get through that." It was basically the hardest thing ever, and I annihilated my heel (not on the foot that hurts now, randomly). Aside: I am referring to this as a stadium, because it is called Easter Road Stadium and holds 17,000 people (hah), but you'd really never know it. Granted, we were on the side that hasn't been redone yet, but still. It is tiny. This is mainly because the Hibs (like the Hearts) are abysmal. Seriously awful.
We got into the stadium and looked at the food stands, and they don't jack up prices at sporting events here like they do in the US. It's thrilling. And as to what foods were available, I saw pizza, chips (w/ or w/o curry, I have no idea), delicious-looking burgers, and meat pies. All of which can be, and is, eaten with brown sauce, the condiment of choice for Brits. I was curious about this brown sauce when I got here, so I bought a bottle. It is A-1. They put steak sauce on pizza. Never will I understand their eating habits.
As for the match itself, awesome. Football matches are incredible, even when you're watching a team as dismal as the Hibs. There were chants, many of which used the word "bastard" (I think one was actually "You're a bastard") and one of which was to the tune of "Lord of the Dance." I couldn't understand the words to most of them, but everybody else sure knew them. There was this guy standing in front of us (because nobody sat in the side of the stands that we were in, the seats were just stood on by people) who was the stereotypical old football hooligan. I have no problem believing that he's stabbed somebody for being a fan of an opposing team. He was terrifying and totally amusing at the same time. Football matches are very much a male pastime, though there were a few women there. No children younger than probably 10 or 11 though. Which, the amount of cursing being taken into account, not surprising. Not really the place for small, impressionable children. The guy sitting next to Glenn, who had no front teeth, was there with his son, and their bonding involved screaming curses at the opposing team/fans. Sweet.
All said and done though, the Hibs won. It was a fairly exciting game, for how poorly they played. Both Glenn and I were yelling, and he hi-fived me after all of the goals ahaha. I love enthusiasm for sports, and he's certainly got that. It's infectious and, again, adorable.
And there you have the football match. I would love to do that again, because it's such a good way to pass the better part of a day.
Other than that, nothing exciting has happened in the last few days. The fire alarm went off at 5am today, so we all had to evacuate and stand outside in the cold, waiting for the firefighters to come. That was thrilling, let me tell you. It only lasted like 15 minutes though, so not too bad. Still, an unpleasant way to be awakened from a deep sleep. I don't know why it went off either, probably someone upstairs burning food or something. And my apartment no longer smells like chemicals, so I'm not going to die from poisoning or anything.
Now, I really have to do my reading for tomorrow. No more procrastination tonight.
- C
Sunday, February 17, 2008
My mother fails.
Not really, but while I'm waiting for her to make her weekly call (I have class at 9am tomorrow, let's hurry this up now), I'll update you people on my life. Granted, I could call her, but it uses like a billion minutes on the phone card that I have. It's cheaper the other way round.
This weekend was both fun and not. Here we go:
Friday night: After updating this, Alice and I decided not to go to the young adults' thing, because it was at somebody's flat and had a high probability of being awkward. Instead, we went pub crawling. The first place we went had a live band playing blusey-rock stuff, with some covers appropriate to that genre (CCR "Fortunate Son", for example). The bar itself was underground and suitably cave-like. Again, appropriate to the type of music that was being played. The next place, we met up with Alice's friend Jenny. This place was a pub, with live folk musicians. Think pub (not the super dark Seven Grand-type), and this should be the type of place that comes to mind. Unfinished wood floors, dark bar and wainscoting, white walls and ceiling, etc. Awesome. Third place was Bannerman's, which is a bar that a lot of students go to, and to which I've been before. There's a back room where they have a place for bands to play, and it's usually punk. So there are also a lot of punks milling about a lot of the time. Basically, I love that place. When that closed at I have no idea, we went to Opium, which, as Glenn told me today (getting to that), bills itself as the "only rock bar in Edinburgh" or something. It's more a club, in my estimation, though the music is generally brilliant. From what I remember. I know that "Arms Race" was played, as well as "Cute Without the E," and, last song of the night, "Don't Stop Believing." And yeah, I danced. With a boy even. Granted, it was more that I was dancing next to a boy who would not leave me the fuck alone and get that I wasn't interested (he kissed me on the cheek when he left. wtf), but still. I've now been clubbing twice since I got here, which makes twice in my entire life. And yes, I was drunk. Obviously. That's a lot of scenery changes.
Saturday: Didn't leave my flat, so I was completely bored and somewhat morose all day. I hate not leaving, but I really just had nowhere to go. I could have gone to the movies or something, but I'd rather go to the movies alone on a weekday. Actually, wait. This is how my Saturday started off. When I got home at 3:30 in the morning or whatever, drunk, I attempted to go to sleep after coherently replying to an email from Kate. What actually happened was, I got into bed, tossed and turned, had the window open because it was too hot. At some point, a huge amount of noise starts up outside. Dudes talking and yelling and shit. The sound of a wheeled trash bin being moved around (think smallish, plastic dumpster). And then my room starts to smell like burning plastic and chemicals. Uh. For fear of being poisoned in my sleep, I got up to shut the window. I vaguely remember seeing a plume of smoke when I did this. Anyway, I still have no idea what the fuck happened, but my room definitely still smelled like chemicals in the morning. And then I woke up at 9:40, because other people outside were being loud, and I just couldn't sleep anymore. So I was tired and vaguely hungover for most of the day, sitting at my desk watching House and Psych reruns, with nobody to talk to. It was an odd, sorta shitty day. And I sent Glenn a Facebook message at like 8pm to figure out what his plans for today's match were, and he hadn't replied by the time that I got to bed. Mostly, yesterday was disappointing.
As Kate and I were talking about, going to a city where we know people/going to grad school with our friends in mind is going to be important to us after SC, because neither one of us ever wants to have to do this whole "making friends" thing again. It's one thing to meet new people, but it's entirely another when it's either make friends or be alone all day, every day. This way is lame. Having at least one person to hang out with at all times is integral, I've learned.
Today: Woke up and went to church. Didn't go to coffee hour (which is a very Episcopal thing wherein the congregation gathers to drink coffee and chat after the service), because the football match was at 3, and I was still hoping beyond hope that Glenn would have responded to my message by this morning. The damn service didn't end until 12:10 as it was, so I hurried home. And lo and behold, I had a Facebook message. Thank fucking God. So after eating lunch and getting quickly changed (I spent a stupid amount of time contemplating my outfit, by the way), Glenn and I met up at 1:15 and walked to the stadium. So yes, I did actually go to the football match with Glenn, thereby making my entire weekend about a million times better. But I think I want to do the match in a separate post, because right now I'm fucking tired and apparently I have to call my mother because she doesn't actually love me.
Goodnight for now. Sorry for the cliffhanger. And Houdini, if you actually still read this, I apologize for being a total girl. I've caught the dumb or something.
- C
This weekend was both fun and not. Here we go:
Friday night: After updating this, Alice and I decided not to go to the young adults' thing, because it was at somebody's flat and had a high probability of being awkward. Instead, we went pub crawling. The first place we went had a live band playing blusey-rock stuff, with some covers appropriate to that genre (CCR "Fortunate Son", for example). The bar itself was underground and suitably cave-like. Again, appropriate to the type of music that was being played. The next place, we met up with Alice's friend Jenny. This place was a pub, with live folk musicians. Think pub (not the super dark Seven Grand-type), and this should be the type of place that comes to mind. Unfinished wood floors, dark bar and wainscoting, white walls and ceiling, etc. Awesome. Third place was Bannerman's, which is a bar that a lot of students go to, and to which I've been before. There's a back room where they have a place for bands to play, and it's usually punk. So there are also a lot of punks milling about a lot of the time. Basically, I love that place. When that closed at I have no idea, we went to Opium, which, as Glenn told me today (getting to that), bills itself as the "only rock bar in Edinburgh" or something. It's more a club, in my estimation, though the music is generally brilliant. From what I remember. I know that "Arms Race" was played, as well as "Cute Without the E," and, last song of the night, "Don't Stop Believing." And yeah, I danced. With a boy even. Granted, it was more that I was dancing next to a boy who would not leave me the fuck alone and get that I wasn't interested (he kissed me on the cheek when he left. wtf), but still. I've now been clubbing twice since I got here, which makes twice in my entire life. And yes, I was drunk. Obviously. That's a lot of scenery changes.
Saturday: Didn't leave my flat, so I was completely bored and somewhat morose all day. I hate not leaving, but I really just had nowhere to go. I could have gone to the movies or something, but I'd rather go to the movies alone on a weekday. Actually, wait. This is how my Saturday started off. When I got home at 3:30 in the morning or whatever, drunk, I attempted to go to sleep after coherently replying to an email from Kate. What actually happened was, I got into bed, tossed and turned, had the window open because it was too hot. At some point, a huge amount of noise starts up outside. Dudes talking and yelling and shit. The sound of a wheeled trash bin being moved around (think smallish, plastic dumpster). And then my room starts to smell like burning plastic and chemicals. Uh. For fear of being poisoned in my sleep, I got up to shut the window. I vaguely remember seeing a plume of smoke when I did this. Anyway, I still have no idea what the fuck happened, but my room definitely still smelled like chemicals in the morning. And then I woke up at 9:40, because other people outside were being loud, and I just couldn't sleep anymore. So I was tired and vaguely hungover for most of the day, sitting at my desk watching House and Psych reruns, with nobody to talk to. It was an odd, sorta shitty day. And I sent Glenn a Facebook message at like 8pm to figure out what his plans for today's match were, and he hadn't replied by the time that I got to bed. Mostly, yesterday was disappointing.
As Kate and I were talking about, going to a city where we know people/going to grad school with our friends in mind is going to be important to us after SC, because neither one of us ever wants to have to do this whole "making friends" thing again. It's one thing to meet new people, but it's entirely another when it's either make friends or be alone all day, every day. This way is lame. Having at least one person to hang out with at all times is integral, I've learned.
Today: Woke up and went to church. Didn't go to coffee hour (which is a very Episcopal thing wherein the congregation gathers to drink coffee and chat after the service), because the football match was at 3, and I was still hoping beyond hope that Glenn would have responded to my message by this morning. The damn service didn't end until 12:10 as it was, so I hurried home. And lo and behold, I had a Facebook message. Thank fucking God. So after eating lunch and getting quickly changed (I spent a stupid amount of time contemplating my outfit, by the way), Glenn and I met up at 1:15 and walked to the stadium. So yes, I did actually go to the football match with Glenn, thereby making my entire weekend about a million times better. But I think I want to do the match in a separate post, because right now I'm fucking tired and apparently I have to call my mother because she doesn't actually love me.
Goodnight for now. Sorry for the cliffhanger. And Houdini, if you actually still read this, I apologize for being a total girl. I've caught the dumb or something.
- C
Friday, February 15, 2008
Mom jeans.
That title has nothing to do with anything except for the fact that these pants are so mom jeans. I think I will actually give them to my mother when I get back to the states. She's going to be so pissed that none of the clothes that we bought before I left actually, technically fit me. Everything is about a size and a half too big. I have no way of telling if this is because I've actually lost weight, or just because I'm a terrible shopper. I would bet on a combination of the two, really. I suck at clothing myself.
I've done a combined total of naught hours of anything of interest so far this week. The only reasons that I've left my flat were class and a short excursion to the overpriced computer store to buy a mic so I can Skype. Today, actually, I went to the Princes Street Mall, which is, coincidentally, a mall, to get money out of the ATM. They have the only Barclay's ATM anywhere near here, which is the type that I need to use to not get charged exorbitant fees by Bank of America. It's downtown, so like 15 minutes walking from my flat. It is currently sunny and crisp outside. It was a pleasant walk, and I stopped at the McDonalds there (okay, so that was half the reason for my leaving the flat) and got a Cadbury Creme Egg McFlurry. As my Facebook status says, yes. Oh my God, yes. I am going to be so sad when the Easter promotional period is over. Also, McDonalds menus are super interesting here. They have faux falafel and BBQ pork sandwiches and hamburgers on ciabatta bread. Not that I would suggest eating any of it, but still. Cultural differences rule.
Tonight, I may or may not be going to one of the church member's flat to watch Monty Python. It depends if Alice (who often writes on my wall) wants to go and can therefore give me a ride. Otherwise, I would have to walk downtown to catch a bus, at night, for which I will have no idea of the area in which I'm supposed to exit. I'm just not feeling that adventurous. If I don't go, I'll probably sit here and watch a movie on my own. Hahaha leave me alone, all you people who know people. I honestly don't feel like I'm missing out on anything by not going out and getting wasted or going to clubs every night. Free internet movies are good enough for me.
BESIDES, I will be going out on Sunday. To a football match. With Glenn. I got a Facebook message today that asked, very concisely, if I still wanted to go. To which I replied, ABSOLUTELY!!! Well, not so forcefully of course. Because that would be terrifying and completely out of character for me. But yeah, Sunday, Hibs match (Hibernian FC if you want to google the team). I will try to not get stabbed by ardent supporters of the other team (Aberdeen, I think). For those who don't know, Edinburgh is a two-team city, much like LA and basketball. Unlike LA fans, however, Hearts and Hibs fans make a habit of stabbing, maiming, and beating the shit out of each other. Trainspotting (which is set in Leith, the port of Edinburgh) makes reference to this, I believe. Yeah, football, woo! Go ahead, tell me I'm not being social enough. I will then tell you to suck it, and we can move on. I've been grinning since I saw the message, btw.
Part of the other reason that I'm not doing anything this weekend is that I think Ashley has taken a trip to the Highlands with her flatmates. So what I'm doing is saving money, or something. My mom gives me shit when she calls on weekend nights, and I'm home at 11pm or whatever. I mean really, what's the alternative? Getting felt up by some dude in a club and then getting impregnated? Yeah, thanks, Mom. Way to look out for my well-being.
I'm not sure that I really have anything of interest to drag this post out any longer. I should do a minuscule amount of reading or something, instead of being the creepy loner. But then that wouldn't be me. And there's always tomorrow.
I probably need therapy.
- C
I've done a combined total of naught hours of anything of interest so far this week. The only reasons that I've left my flat were class and a short excursion to the overpriced computer store to buy a mic so I can Skype. Today, actually, I went to the Princes Street Mall, which is, coincidentally, a mall, to get money out of the ATM. They have the only Barclay's ATM anywhere near here, which is the type that I need to use to not get charged exorbitant fees by Bank of America. It's downtown, so like 15 minutes walking from my flat. It is currently sunny and crisp outside. It was a pleasant walk, and I stopped at the McDonalds there (okay, so that was half the reason for my leaving the flat) and got a Cadbury Creme Egg McFlurry. As my Facebook status says, yes. Oh my God, yes. I am going to be so sad when the Easter promotional period is over. Also, McDonalds menus are super interesting here. They have faux falafel and BBQ pork sandwiches and hamburgers on ciabatta bread. Not that I would suggest eating any of it, but still. Cultural differences rule.
Tonight, I may or may not be going to one of the church member's flat to watch Monty Python. It depends if Alice (who often writes on my wall) wants to go and can therefore give me a ride. Otherwise, I would have to walk downtown to catch a bus, at night, for which I will have no idea of the area in which I'm supposed to exit. I'm just not feeling that adventurous. If I don't go, I'll probably sit here and watch a movie on my own. Hahaha leave me alone, all you people who know people. I honestly don't feel like I'm missing out on anything by not going out and getting wasted or going to clubs every night. Free internet movies are good enough for me.
BESIDES, I will be going out on Sunday. To a football match. With Glenn. I got a Facebook message today that asked, very concisely, if I still wanted to go. To which I replied, ABSOLUTELY!!! Well, not so forcefully of course. Because that would be terrifying and completely out of character for me. But yeah, Sunday, Hibs match (Hibernian FC if you want to google the team). I will try to not get stabbed by ardent supporters of the other team (Aberdeen, I think). For those who don't know, Edinburgh is a two-team city, much like LA and basketball. Unlike LA fans, however, Hearts and Hibs fans make a habit of stabbing, maiming, and beating the shit out of each other. Trainspotting (which is set in Leith, the port of Edinburgh) makes reference to this, I believe. Yeah, football, woo! Go ahead, tell me I'm not being social enough. I will then tell you to suck it, and we can move on. I've been grinning since I saw the message, btw.
Part of the other reason that I'm not doing anything this weekend is that I think Ashley has taken a trip to the Highlands with her flatmates. So what I'm doing is saving money, or something. My mom gives me shit when she calls on weekend nights, and I'm home at 11pm or whatever. I mean really, what's the alternative? Getting felt up by some dude in a club and then getting impregnated? Yeah, thanks, Mom. Way to look out for my well-being.
I'm not sure that I really have anything of interest to drag this post out any longer. I should do a minuscule amount of reading or something, instead of being the creepy loner. But then that wouldn't be me. And there's always tomorrow.
I probably need therapy.
- C
Monday, February 11, 2008
If anyone asks, you got in a fight.
First, my horoscope for the day:
That'll come into play later. I just wanted to get it out there for right now.
This weekend was London, obviously, and oh. my. God. This will be mostly incoherent, because I'm mostly incoherent. Also, there's reading/note taking that I should be doing for a presentation that I have to do next week, so of course I'm avoiding that. I predict a long post. Maybe even with some feelings, for your added enjoyment.
Thursday night: Whisky society meeting. Got pleasantly drunk, chatted with a few people, learned that The Sopranos = the international perception of New Jersey. It was amusing getting shit about that from an Irish guy and a Swedish guy though. Then, I came back here and packed for London. Drunk packing is a lot easier than normal packing. I already knew that, but it bears repeating. Of course, you then spend the whole journey there wondering what you might have forgotten in your stupor.
Friday: Train to London left at 11. It's approximately a 5 hour trip, through Newcastle, York, Doncaster, etc. Basically, farms and sheep. And the occasional nuclear power plant and cliff overlooking the sea. England is a beautiful country. I did the travel parts with the girl that I've been going out and doing stuff with every week, so it was an enjoyable ride. When we got to London (King's Cross woo), we successfully navigated the Tube to get to our hotel. I then successfully used a map to navigate the above-ground walk to the hotel. I was so proud of myself, you have no idea. The hotel was questionable, but USC paid for everything, so there are no complaints here. Ashley and I dropped our stuff off and then went to look for a bakery that her friend who was studying in London had recommended. Some more successful navigation meant that I got a delicious cupcake, and then we went back to the hotel to wait for dinner. More people from our group had arrived at that point, and we ran into 3 guys from SC as we were walking into the hotel, walking out. That detail is mostly pointless. Setting the scene. Anyway. More people. There were 3 of us in my room: Ashley (the girl that I've been hanging out with), me, and Chelsea (whom I'd met at the welcome dinner, and is a Tri-Delt). No en-suite bathrooms, whatever. Sitting in the room waiting for it to be 7pm so we can meet the USC UK liaison (John Sharkey, a nice British guy who enjoys getting drunk with us and spending USC's money), there is a knock at the door. I answer it, and a guy asks for fire in French. I realize he wants a lighter, say sorry, and move on. A little later, a greasy looking Italian guy (not racist, totally accurate description) knocks on the door with a bottle of champagne and asks us to drink with them. Uh, nope. Sorry. Finally, time for dinner. A group of us go to a pub, since there is an hour before our dinner reservation, and the guys drink while the girls (some of the London students joined us) talk. Pansy, I know. For dinner, we go to a brasserie attached to a hotel near ours (I have this thing against restaurants attached to hotels, ask me about it sometime if you have time to listen to me complain), the food takes forever, we get through two bottles of wine before the appetizers. There are 9 of us eating. Two more bottles appear later. I know this is nothing compared to typical 4 people/5 bottle parties, but I was drunk enough that the food went from passable to delicious. After dinner, some of us went back to the same pub that we were at before, while Ashley and Chelsea went back to the hotel and went to bed. This is the sort of hotel where you have to turn in your one key every time you leave, so there had to be some strategizing about how I would get back into the room. Apparently, pubs in central London have last call at 11pm, so it was an early night. Getting back in the room was fun though, because everything was noisy, and I, of course, was trying to be a quiet drunk.
Okay, to be perfectly frank, I'm boring myself. There's something that I actually want to talk about, so let's just move on to that.
See that tag at the bottom that says "geology?" I have completely and inexplicably fallen in love with an SC geologist. This is why my horoscope is at the top there. If you're reading all of this, consider yourself an "informed friend," and discuss. Because, as you'll soon see, I am over-thinking this, per usual. His name is Glenn, he's a junior, doesn't live in the Rock House but knows everyone else there (which, duh. There are approximately 12 geologists, and we know everyone in the Rock House). When I walked out of the hotel to meet the rest of the group out front before dinner, he introduced himself and promptly explained to us how he'd received the nice looking gash and bump above his right eyebrow. Apparently, he got to the hotel, got ready to go exploring in the few hours he had before dinner, and promptly got hit in the face with a door by a non-English speaking porter. He then had to go lie down for 2 hours, to stop his head bleeding and throbbing. Seriously. Immediately, I am endeared. He sat next to me at dinner and at the pub afterwards, so we talked a lot. His mom is from Jersey, and he grew up going to the Jersey Shore every year (though he lived in Baton Rouge until his senior year of high school and then in Texas). The universe is somehow responsible for this, obviously. And I've inserted these tidbits of info here, because it matters to Saturday's events.
Saturday: Woke up early for breakfast (which I'm not even going to discuss because it was the worst ever). Ate, Glenn came down and sat with me and my roommates. Had an hour between breakfast and when we had to leave for the Globe Theater tour, so my roommates and I went back upstairs and watched the news. British news, even on Saturday mornings, far surpasses anything on American stations ever. We left the hotel, and I spent the rest of the morning strategically positioning myself as we were walking in our big group to the Globe and getting intensely jealous when anyone else was where I wanted to be. Guys, this is rapidly becoming terrible. I'm going to need to tone it down. Anyway. We toured the Globe, which was awesome. I would really like to see a play there because, as the tour guide said, it's like being inside a giant wooden instrument. The acoustics are unbelievable. After the Globe, everyone else had time to go off and do their own thing. Ashley was going to go off and meet her friend who was in London, which she of course invited me to do. I said I'd think about it, we all went to look at the exhibit that's attached to the Globe. At the end of that, there was a partial group meeting, one of those "anyone else want to do what I want to do" things. Glenn mentioned the British Museum, which we'd been talking about with some Arch students at the pub on Friday night. Obvs, when he asked if anyone else was up for that, I said yes. Another kid was going to go with us, but then decided to go with Ashley instead, as she was going to do stuff outdoors, and it was a gorgeous day. The universe is in my favor right now, apparently. I will have to continue to sacrifice babies or something (less funny because it's kind of true, disregard). Glenn and I went looking for the nearest Tube stop, met a singing porter who advised us of a better route and sang snippets of Neil Diamond and Johnny Cash for us, found the better route, and promptly got lost exiting the Tube. The Tube is awesome, but the maps are only really handy underground. Once you get above ground, you're on your own. So we had a mini-adventure, involving walking in a great big circle and being rude to a lady handing out Scientology pamphlets in front of the Scientology Centre. Like being in LA, but with the wrong spelling. Finally, we figured out where we needed to go, did so, and rewarded ourselves with Korean food for lunch- satisfying a serious craving that I'd been having. We then went to the British Museum, and I'm really not sure that I can actually talk about it. It was everything that I'd hoped and more. For those who don't know, I put on my USC application that my dream job was curator at the British Museum.
After the museum, we had to get to a theater in Piccadilly Circus for a play (The 39 Steps). Cue another adventure. Once again, Glenn and I got off the Tube and went the wrong direction above ground. Quite a team, really. But we got to the theater with like 5 minutes to spare, so, success. And our seats were next to each other (well, one apart, so I just took the empty one next to him since it was a small part of our USC group that had all of the seats around us), and the universe is again on my side. At the play, I ran into a girl that I'd studied with in Dijon, so we talked the whole way to, and then through, dinner. Made tentative plans to go back to Dijon in our free time this semester, which will be super nice. It'll be nice to hang out with her again when the other students come up to Edinburgh later this month. Glenn tried out his more exciting injury story on her at dinner, telling an involved tale about a Scottish pub and supporting an English team. We helped him make it more believable. On a semi-related note, Glenn lives in a "flat" with 11 freshmen guys (it sounds like a suite, really), and he was saying that they want to have an "around the world" party that weekend, because his flatmates have become obsessed with that idea since he mentioned it one time. Hilarious.
Post dinner, people once again got to do their own thing. Most of us had been drinking at dinner (I had two Sapporos, as it was a trendy Asian restaurant), so obviously the drinking had to continue. Glenn, two other guys (John and Matt [also in T.O., though I've never had class with them]), and I went to a liquor store, bought shitty wine, and went back to the hotel. They showered, I watched some NCIS, and then we reconvened to pregame before we decided what we wanted to do for the evening (it was approximately 8pm at this point). They all shared a room, along with the one other guy from my program that went down to London, and he came in as we were drinking and said that he was staying with some friends somewhere else that night. Sweet. We headed out and essentially got off the Tube at a completely arbitrary stop, chosen by Matt. We walked for like a block and found a pub that was actually open until 1am. Our evening was decided. And what an evening it was. Tequila shots were involved. Matt's from Boston, John from the Bay Area, so it was the sort of mixed group of Americans that makes for great times. I should mention that the Tube closes at 11:30, which we knew going into this. At midnight, we were all wasted, so we decided to go back to the hotel and finish our shitty wine. We walked forever, ended up back in Piccadilly, and had to say fuck it and take a cab because we never would have gotten back otherwise. The driver offered to sell us weed ahaha. We were drunk enough to say no. We got back to the hotel and stayed up until I don't even know drinking our wine. Either 4 or 5am. Glenn got into bed and John put shaving cream on his face. Ah, boys. I laughed harder that night than I have in months. It was so nice. And drunk. Jesus. In total, I had the 2 Sapporos, 3 pints and a tequila shot at the pub, and 7/8 of my bottle of wine (we each got our own at the liquor store, because we knew it was going to be one of those nights).
Sunday: Woke up at an ungodly hour for breakfast again, still drunk. Ate and packed everything up, left our bags with the front desk, and Ashley, Chelsea, and I went and saw Westminster Abbey and then Kensington Gardens. It was another beautiful day, so we really just wanted to do stuff that would allow us to walk around outside. I then got hungover, so the sun and mild weather were nice. Went back to the hotel, picked up our stuff, and headed to King's Cross to catch our trains. Ashley and I had one half an hour later than Chelsea's, so we spent our extra time taking a couple of pictures at the Platform 9 3/4 thing that they have. So cute. 2:30 rolled around, and we started the long ride back to Edinburgh. I pretty promptly passed out, because, yeah. 3 hours of sleep will do that. It's funny, because Ashley and Chelsea were both like "How are you awake right now?" throughout the day. Band has trained me well. When I got home, I waited forever for my mom to call so I could go to bed, and she didn't. So I finally called her at 11:30 and said wtf, basically. Thanks, Mom. We took care of all of the involved stuff for the apartment application for next year, and she told me that my family is still looking into coming over here during Easter. Then I finally went to bed at around 12:30.
Today: Skipped my 9am Buddhist Art lecture, and I refuse to be blamed for that. I needed the sleep, and attendance at lectures isn't kept. And the class powerpoints are put online, so it's really not even that academically irresponsible of me. Went grocery shopping. Went to my other class. Worked for a little while on the presentation that's due next week, since the library has recalled the book that I need to do it with (so annoying). I have until Thursday to read 150 pages. Easy. I had Indian takeaway for dinner, which was delicious, and I have leftovers that will last forever. Good day.
That's a run down of everything in my life. The things that need slightly more depth still are 1) Glenn and 2) my family visiting.
1) Glenn: I've said a lot already, but I think another thing that bears mentioning is how easy it is to talk to him. There were very, very few awkward silences of any sort while we were hanging out. Some of that was because I was talking too much out of nervousness, as I do, but he talked too. There were a few times where one of us would say something and the other would immediately say that they were just about to say that or were just thinking about that same thing. That means absolutely nothing, but it's so rare for that to happen with someone that I've just met. And it was random stuff, like how it seems that there's no unspoken rule for which way you should step when you confront someone going the other way on the sidewalk here (seriously, there seem to be a lot more awkward run-ins here, and not just between foreigners and Brits, but Brits and Brits too). We have sort of plans to go to a football match here on Sunday, as you Facebook stalkers have probably seen, so I'm pretty excited about that. Okay, enough of him for now.
2) My family: I am so stoked (yes, stoked) that my family are probably coming to visit. It's really a shame that they can't come any other time, as that's part of my Spring Break, and I've had to tentatively cancel my plans to go to the Iberian Peninsula with Lena (seriously, sorry again about that), but I think it will be amazing to be able to show them around here. It always makes me sort of sad to know that I've done more extensive traveling than my father has, because I feel like it's something that he would enjoy so much. When he was young, he did a lot of traveling in the US and some in Canada, but he's never been to Europe. So much of my personality and so many of my interests come from him that it's an opportunity I would love for him to have. My brother is supposed to go to Germany with his class next year, and if that were to happen with my dad still never having been to Europe, I think it would secretly destroy him a little. He's very proud of us and glad that we've had the opportunities that we have, but can you imagine your children both getting to do something like going to Europe when you haven't? It's probably terrible. My mom went to Czechoslovakia in high school, so she's seen a little bit, but this is something else entirely. They're looking into airfares now, which is good. Approximately 2 weeks ago, they were fairly set on not coming. I have no idea what happened back home between then and now, but I'm glad it did happen. I sort of suspect that my dad keeps pushing this, which, good for him. This is the home of golf and Scotch, after all.
I am being so ridiculously sentimental right now. Holy fuck. I'm sorry for making that so long, but it was a bunch of stuff that I'd like to remember forever. Well, some of it. The rest is stuff that my horoscope said that I should discuss. If you read all of it, do what I do and blame the universe. Now I really do have to do some work. I'll put pictures up tomorrow, I'm sure. I'm too tired of typing to do the whole captioning thing right now. Something else for you to look forward to.
And Erin's back on AIM for me to harass, so that's that. Peace, fuckers.
- C
EDIT: Since I've been asked already, and to head off anymore stealth photo requests, here:
Far left, guys. And yeah, all of my pants are too big now. We'll not even get into that. Also, I am apparently tall-ish. Hah. Sweet. Posting this picture makes me feel slightly less creepy than stealing one from Facebook would. Next time you see Brad, get him to log into Facebook for you or something. Tell him it's research. They are obviously friends.
Further comment responses: No, Erin, I haven't found a boy for you yet. Unless the Scottish economist will do.
<3s.>
Don't let the current hesitant attitude of yours extend into your emotional life, because it's taking enough out of you already trying to work out which way to go with it all. A discussion with an informed friend helps you regain some clarity regarding your current situation.
That'll come into play later. I just wanted to get it out there for right now.
This weekend was London, obviously, and oh. my. God. This will be mostly incoherent, because I'm mostly incoherent. Also, there's reading/note taking that I should be doing for a presentation that I have to do next week, so of course I'm avoiding that. I predict a long post. Maybe even with some feelings, for your added enjoyment.
Thursday night: Whisky society meeting. Got pleasantly drunk, chatted with a few people, learned that The Sopranos = the international perception of New Jersey. It was amusing getting shit about that from an Irish guy and a Swedish guy though. Then, I came back here and packed for London. Drunk packing is a lot easier than normal packing. I already knew that, but it bears repeating. Of course, you then spend the whole journey there wondering what you might have forgotten in your stupor.
Friday: Train to London left at 11. It's approximately a 5 hour trip, through Newcastle, York, Doncaster, etc. Basically, farms and sheep. And the occasional nuclear power plant and cliff overlooking the sea. England is a beautiful country. I did the travel parts with the girl that I've been going out and doing stuff with every week, so it was an enjoyable ride. When we got to London (King's Cross woo), we successfully navigated the Tube to get to our hotel. I then successfully used a map to navigate the above-ground walk to the hotel. I was so proud of myself, you have no idea. The hotel was questionable, but USC paid for everything, so there are no complaints here. Ashley and I dropped our stuff off and then went to look for a bakery that her friend who was studying in London had recommended. Some more successful navigation meant that I got a delicious cupcake, and then we went back to the hotel to wait for dinner. More people from our group had arrived at that point, and we ran into 3 guys from SC as we were walking into the hotel, walking out. That detail is mostly pointless. Setting the scene. Anyway. More people. There were 3 of us in my room: Ashley (the girl that I've been hanging out with), me, and Chelsea (whom I'd met at the welcome dinner, and is a Tri-Delt). No en-suite bathrooms, whatever. Sitting in the room waiting for it to be 7pm so we can meet the USC UK liaison (John Sharkey, a nice British guy who enjoys getting drunk with us and spending USC's money), there is a knock at the door. I answer it, and a guy asks for fire in French. I realize he wants a lighter, say sorry, and move on. A little later, a greasy looking Italian guy (not racist, totally accurate description) knocks on the door with a bottle of champagne and asks us to drink with them. Uh, nope. Sorry. Finally, time for dinner. A group of us go to a pub, since there is an hour before our dinner reservation, and the guys drink while the girls (some of the London students joined us) talk. Pansy, I know. For dinner, we go to a brasserie attached to a hotel near ours (I have this thing against restaurants attached to hotels, ask me about it sometime if you have time to listen to me complain), the food takes forever, we get through two bottles of wine before the appetizers. There are 9 of us eating. Two more bottles appear later. I know this is nothing compared to typical 4 people/5 bottle parties, but I was drunk enough that the food went from passable to delicious. After dinner, some of us went back to the same pub that we were at before, while Ashley and Chelsea went back to the hotel and went to bed. This is the sort of hotel where you have to turn in your one key every time you leave, so there had to be some strategizing about how I would get back into the room. Apparently, pubs in central London have last call at 11pm, so it was an early night. Getting back in the room was fun though, because everything was noisy, and I, of course, was trying to be a quiet drunk.
Okay, to be perfectly frank, I'm boring myself. There's something that I actually want to talk about, so let's just move on to that.
See that tag at the bottom that says "geology?" I have completely and inexplicably fallen in love with an SC geologist. This is why my horoscope is at the top there. If you're reading all of this, consider yourself an "informed friend," and discuss. Because, as you'll soon see, I am over-thinking this, per usual. His name is Glenn, he's a junior, doesn't live in the Rock House but knows everyone else there (which, duh. There are approximately 12 geologists, and we know everyone in the Rock House). When I walked out of the hotel to meet the rest of the group out front before dinner, he introduced himself and promptly explained to us how he'd received the nice looking gash and bump above his right eyebrow. Apparently, he got to the hotel, got ready to go exploring in the few hours he had before dinner, and promptly got hit in the face with a door by a non-English speaking porter. He then had to go lie down for 2 hours, to stop his head bleeding and throbbing. Seriously. Immediately, I am endeared. He sat next to me at dinner and at the pub afterwards, so we talked a lot. His mom is from Jersey, and he grew up going to the Jersey Shore every year (though he lived in Baton Rouge until his senior year of high school and then in Texas). The universe is somehow responsible for this, obviously. And I've inserted these tidbits of info here, because it matters to Saturday's events.
Saturday: Woke up early for breakfast (which I'm not even going to discuss because it was the worst ever). Ate, Glenn came down and sat with me and my roommates. Had an hour between breakfast and when we had to leave for the Globe Theater tour, so my roommates and I went back upstairs and watched the news. British news, even on Saturday mornings, far surpasses anything on American stations ever. We left the hotel, and I spent the rest of the morning strategically positioning myself as we were walking in our big group to the Globe and getting intensely jealous when anyone else was where I wanted to be. Guys, this is rapidly becoming terrible. I'm going to need to tone it down. Anyway. We toured the Globe, which was awesome. I would really like to see a play there because, as the tour guide said, it's like being inside a giant wooden instrument. The acoustics are unbelievable. After the Globe, everyone else had time to go off and do their own thing. Ashley was going to go off and meet her friend who was in London, which she of course invited me to do. I said I'd think about it, we all went to look at the exhibit that's attached to the Globe. At the end of that, there was a partial group meeting, one of those "anyone else want to do what I want to do" things. Glenn mentioned the British Museum, which we'd been talking about with some Arch students at the pub on Friday night. Obvs, when he asked if anyone else was up for that, I said yes. Another kid was going to go with us, but then decided to go with Ashley instead, as she was going to do stuff outdoors, and it was a gorgeous day. The universe is in my favor right now, apparently. I will have to continue to sacrifice babies or something (less funny because it's kind of true, disregard). Glenn and I went looking for the nearest Tube stop, met a singing porter who advised us of a better route and sang snippets of Neil Diamond and Johnny Cash for us, found the better route, and promptly got lost exiting the Tube. The Tube is awesome, but the maps are only really handy underground. Once you get above ground, you're on your own. So we had a mini-adventure, involving walking in a great big circle and being rude to a lady handing out Scientology pamphlets in front of the Scientology Centre. Like being in LA, but with the wrong spelling. Finally, we figured out where we needed to go, did so, and rewarded ourselves with Korean food for lunch- satisfying a serious craving that I'd been having. We then went to the British Museum, and I'm really not sure that I can actually talk about it. It was everything that I'd hoped and more. For those who don't know, I put on my USC application that my dream job was curator at the British Museum.
After the museum, we had to get to a theater in Piccadilly Circus for a play (The 39 Steps). Cue another adventure. Once again, Glenn and I got off the Tube and went the wrong direction above ground. Quite a team, really. But we got to the theater with like 5 minutes to spare, so, success. And our seats were next to each other (well, one apart, so I just took the empty one next to him since it was a small part of our USC group that had all of the seats around us), and the universe is again on my side. At the play, I ran into a girl that I'd studied with in Dijon, so we talked the whole way to, and then through, dinner. Made tentative plans to go back to Dijon in our free time this semester, which will be super nice. It'll be nice to hang out with her again when the other students come up to Edinburgh later this month. Glenn tried out his more exciting injury story on her at dinner, telling an involved tale about a Scottish pub and supporting an English team. We helped him make it more believable. On a semi-related note, Glenn lives in a "flat" with 11 freshmen guys (it sounds like a suite, really), and he was saying that they want to have an "around the world" party that weekend, because his flatmates have become obsessed with that idea since he mentioned it one time. Hilarious.
Post dinner, people once again got to do their own thing. Most of us had been drinking at dinner (I had two Sapporos, as it was a trendy Asian restaurant), so obviously the drinking had to continue. Glenn, two other guys (John and Matt [also in T.O., though I've never had class with them]), and I went to a liquor store, bought shitty wine, and went back to the hotel. They showered, I watched some NCIS, and then we reconvened to pregame before we decided what we wanted to do for the evening (it was approximately 8pm at this point). They all shared a room, along with the one other guy from my program that went down to London, and he came in as we were drinking and said that he was staying with some friends somewhere else that night. Sweet. We headed out and essentially got off the Tube at a completely arbitrary stop, chosen by Matt. We walked for like a block and found a pub that was actually open until 1am. Our evening was decided. And what an evening it was. Tequila shots were involved. Matt's from Boston, John from the Bay Area, so it was the sort of mixed group of Americans that makes for great times. I should mention that the Tube closes at 11:30, which we knew going into this. At midnight, we were all wasted, so we decided to go back to the hotel and finish our shitty wine. We walked forever, ended up back in Piccadilly, and had to say fuck it and take a cab because we never would have gotten back otherwise. The driver offered to sell us weed ahaha. We were drunk enough to say no. We got back to the hotel and stayed up until I don't even know drinking our wine. Either 4 or 5am. Glenn got into bed and John put shaving cream on his face. Ah, boys. I laughed harder that night than I have in months. It was so nice. And drunk. Jesus. In total, I had the 2 Sapporos, 3 pints and a tequila shot at the pub, and 7/8 of my bottle of wine (we each got our own at the liquor store, because we knew it was going to be one of those nights).
Sunday: Woke up at an ungodly hour for breakfast again, still drunk. Ate and packed everything up, left our bags with the front desk, and Ashley, Chelsea, and I went and saw Westminster Abbey and then Kensington Gardens. It was another beautiful day, so we really just wanted to do stuff that would allow us to walk around outside. I then got hungover, so the sun and mild weather were nice. Went back to the hotel, picked up our stuff, and headed to King's Cross to catch our trains. Ashley and I had one half an hour later than Chelsea's, so we spent our extra time taking a couple of pictures at the Platform 9 3/4 thing that they have. So cute. 2:30 rolled around, and we started the long ride back to Edinburgh. I pretty promptly passed out, because, yeah. 3 hours of sleep will do that. It's funny, because Ashley and Chelsea were both like "How are you awake right now?" throughout the day. Band has trained me well. When I got home, I waited forever for my mom to call so I could go to bed, and she didn't. So I finally called her at 11:30 and said wtf, basically. Thanks, Mom. We took care of all of the involved stuff for the apartment application for next year, and she told me that my family is still looking into coming over here during Easter. Then I finally went to bed at around 12:30.
Today: Skipped my 9am Buddhist Art lecture, and I refuse to be blamed for that. I needed the sleep, and attendance at lectures isn't kept. And the class powerpoints are put online, so it's really not even that academically irresponsible of me. Went grocery shopping. Went to my other class. Worked for a little while on the presentation that's due next week, since the library has recalled the book that I need to do it with (so annoying). I have until Thursday to read 150 pages. Easy. I had Indian takeaway for dinner, which was delicious, and I have leftovers that will last forever. Good day.
That's a run down of everything in my life. The things that need slightly more depth still are 1) Glenn and 2) my family visiting.
1) Glenn: I've said a lot already, but I think another thing that bears mentioning is how easy it is to talk to him. There were very, very few awkward silences of any sort while we were hanging out. Some of that was because I was talking too much out of nervousness, as I do, but he talked too. There were a few times where one of us would say something and the other would immediately say that they were just about to say that or were just thinking about that same thing. That means absolutely nothing, but it's so rare for that to happen with someone that I've just met. And it was random stuff, like how it seems that there's no unspoken rule for which way you should step when you confront someone going the other way on the sidewalk here (seriously, there seem to be a lot more awkward run-ins here, and not just between foreigners and Brits, but Brits and Brits too). We have sort of plans to go to a football match here on Sunday, as you Facebook stalkers have probably seen, so I'm pretty excited about that. Okay, enough of him for now.
2) My family: I am so stoked (yes, stoked) that my family are probably coming to visit. It's really a shame that they can't come any other time, as that's part of my Spring Break, and I've had to tentatively cancel my plans to go to the Iberian Peninsula with Lena (seriously, sorry again about that), but I think it will be amazing to be able to show them around here. It always makes me sort of sad to know that I've done more extensive traveling than my father has, because I feel like it's something that he would enjoy so much. When he was young, he did a lot of traveling in the US and some in Canada, but he's never been to Europe. So much of my personality and so many of my interests come from him that it's an opportunity I would love for him to have. My brother is supposed to go to Germany with his class next year, and if that were to happen with my dad still never having been to Europe, I think it would secretly destroy him a little. He's very proud of us and glad that we've had the opportunities that we have, but can you imagine your children both getting to do something like going to Europe when you haven't? It's probably terrible. My mom went to Czechoslovakia in high school, so she's seen a little bit, but this is something else entirely. They're looking into airfares now, which is good. Approximately 2 weeks ago, they were fairly set on not coming. I have no idea what happened back home between then and now, but I'm glad it did happen. I sort of suspect that my dad keeps pushing this, which, good for him. This is the home of golf and Scotch, after all.
I am being so ridiculously sentimental right now. Holy fuck. I'm sorry for making that so long, but it was a bunch of stuff that I'd like to remember forever. Well, some of it. The rest is stuff that my horoscope said that I should discuss. If you read all of it, do what I do and blame the universe. Now I really do have to do some work. I'll put pictures up tomorrow, I'm sure. I'm too tired of typing to do the whole captioning thing right now. Something else for you to look forward to.
And Erin's back on AIM for me to harass, so that's that. Peace, fuckers.
- C
EDIT: Since I've been asked already, and to head off anymore stealth photo requests, here:
Far left, guys. And yeah, all of my pants are too big now. We'll not even get into that. Also, I am apparently tall-ish. Hah. Sweet. Posting this picture makes me feel slightly less creepy than stealing one from Facebook would. Next time you see Brad, get him to log into Facebook for you or something. Tell him it's research. They are obviously friends.
Further comment responses: No, Erin, I haven't found a boy for you yet. Unless the Scottish economist will do.
<3s.>
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