I would just like to note quickly that this evening I have been very obviously hit on three times over the course of two hours. Only two of them were cute, and only one of them was not super-sketchy.
WIHLT: British boys, while often cute, do NOT have game.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
What Say You, Earth Child?
So the staying up all night thing worked surprisingly well. I finished my presentation and even managed to deliver it in a coherent manner. I got feedback for it in an e-mail on Monday and it was mostly positive. I didn't manage to participate in Actor and the Body that day, but that was because my sinuses had suddenly become so congested that I couldn't bend over without my head feeling like it was going to explode. But we worked around it. Anyway, when I got home I crashed and slept on and off for like twenty-four hours, but I was still kind of sick anyway so now it's just a good story to tell.
So this last weekend Theo and I went to the Tate Modern. I did enjoy it, at least as much as I expected to. By which I mean the problems I had with it were the same as the problems I have with any modern art museum. I like art. I used to be really into it, back when I was 13 or 14. But I don't get any enjoyment out of pieces that are just so out there that there's really no way for someone like me to understand or appreciate it. I'm not saying I didn't appreciate anything I didn't understand, because there were a lot of things I thought were really cool even if I didn't necessarily understand the message. But stuff like abstract paintings that consist of an enormous canvas painted in a dark shade of red with two brighter stripes of red just don't appeal to me in any way. That being said, I got a big kick out of a lot of the surrealist paintings, and the Andy Warhol room that was covered in pink and yellow cow wallpaper is possibly my favorite room I've ever been in. Also there was a giant table and chair that made me feel like Jim Carrey in the kitchen scene from Eternal Sunshine.
Sunday I went to Petticoat Lane Market and Brick Lane Market. I wish I hadn't gone to Petticoat first, or I wouldn't have spent so much time there. It was okay for some people. It's just that all the stalls seemed to be selling cheap versions of whatever was in Topshop that month, or whatever. And if I wanted that I'd just go to Topshop. So even though I saw a few things that appealed to me, it wasn't worth it and I didn't buy anything. Brick Lane Market, however...well, let's just say I'd like to name it The Happiest Place On Earth. Lots of handmade and second-hand clothes and accessories, which are much more my vein. I bought a black suede miniskirt for twelve pounds and a handmade feather barrette, and I intend on going back there every Sunday that I'm in London. Not to mention it's indoors, unlike Petticoat, so it'll actually be comfortable to shop there once it gets colder and wetter. There are also a bunch of food booths at the front of the market, which sell Chinese, Thai, Japanese, etc. I got some really good kong pao chicken with rice on my way out. I think I could be happy shopping there for the rest of my life.
And Monday night I went to a show at the Southwark Playhouse called "Terror 2009." It was a collection of four short plays for the Halloween season. There was an excellent cabaret performer who sang before the evening began in the bar and between a couple of the shows to set the mood. The first play was about what I expected from the evening, lit mostly by a flashlight and a lantern and concerning a house haunted by the spirits of women who had been killed there. Very effective. The next two plays were much more psychological, though, and not so much scary. The fourth was a new play by Neil LaBute...and well, he didn't represent American playwrights too well. It was mostly just disgusting, in every sense. LaBute shouldn't write short plays -- when you have that kind of brutality with no context, it's just shocking, not effective.
So naturally afterwards I needed a drink -- or several. I went to Drapers, the campus bar, for pound drink night, where I found Flat 16 and Those Who Love Them. Loud music and £1 Carlsbergs put me back in a good place. Although, so did meeting up with some up the people from my Reading Theatre class who'd seen the play with me that night and making out with a cutie. Name of Alec -- curly black hair, glasses, just my type. That puts this semester's number (well, the QM semester) somewhere between two and four, depending on whose account of that night at Barfly you believe.
I've also started practice for the choir and the a cappella group here, neither of which are as serious or as good as the ones at Muhlenberg, but it'll be nice to back off on the intensity while trying to stay in voice for the semester. I have a feeling the a cappella group is going to make me miss InAcchord a lot.
That last part is really my only big story for the last week or so, on account of my being sick. Coming up on the schedule -- possibly Hail Mary tonight at Drapers, though I have no idea what that is, and only if I finish my Actor and the Body assignment in time, which I doubt I will. I'll probably just try to hit the hay early, because I did last night and I felt really good about it this morning. This weekend intending to take a day trip with Theo. I'm pushing for Bath. He and I also just booked a trip to Berlin for next month, which will be after my trip to Vienna with my mumma, which will be after my trip to Liverpool to see Tim!
WIHLT: Don't wear heels to a museum. It's actually possible for the pain to linger for two full days.
So this last weekend Theo and I went to the Tate Modern. I did enjoy it, at least as much as I expected to. By which I mean the problems I had with it were the same as the problems I have with any modern art museum. I like art. I used to be really into it, back when I was 13 or 14. But I don't get any enjoyment out of pieces that are just so out there that there's really no way for someone like me to understand or appreciate it. I'm not saying I didn't appreciate anything I didn't understand, because there were a lot of things I thought were really cool even if I didn't necessarily understand the message. But stuff like abstract paintings that consist of an enormous canvas painted in a dark shade of red with two brighter stripes of red just don't appeal to me in any way. That being said, I got a big kick out of a lot of the surrealist paintings, and the Andy Warhol room that was covered in pink and yellow cow wallpaper is possibly my favorite room I've ever been in. Also there was a giant table and chair that made me feel like Jim Carrey in the kitchen scene from Eternal Sunshine.
Sunday I went to Petticoat Lane Market and Brick Lane Market. I wish I hadn't gone to Petticoat first, or I wouldn't have spent so much time there. It was okay for some people. It's just that all the stalls seemed to be selling cheap versions of whatever was in Topshop that month, or whatever. And if I wanted that I'd just go to Topshop. So even though I saw a few things that appealed to me, it wasn't worth it and I didn't buy anything. Brick Lane Market, however...well, let's just say I'd like to name it The Happiest Place On Earth. Lots of handmade and second-hand clothes and accessories, which are much more my vein. I bought a black suede miniskirt for twelve pounds and a handmade feather barrette, and I intend on going back there every Sunday that I'm in London. Not to mention it's indoors, unlike Petticoat, so it'll actually be comfortable to shop there once it gets colder and wetter. There are also a bunch of food booths at the front of the market, which sell Chinese, Thai, Japanese, etc. I got some really good kong pao chicken with rice on my way out. I think I could be happy shopping there for the rest of my life.
And Monday night I went to a show at the Southwark Playhouse called "Terror 2009." It was a collection of four short plays for the Halloween season. There was an excellent cabaret performer who sang before the evening began in the bar and between a couple of the shows to set the mood. The first play was about what I expected from the evening, lit mostly by a flashlight and a lantern and concerning a house haunted by the spirits of women who had been killed there. Very effective. The next two plays were much more psychological, though, and not so much scary. The fourth was a new play by Neil LaBute...and well, he didn't represent American playwrights too well. It was mostly just disgusting, in every sense. LaBute shouldn't write short plays -- when you have that kind of brutality with no context, it's just shocking, not effective.
So naturally afterwards I needed a drink -- or several. I went to Drapers, the campus bar, for pound drink night, where I found Flat 16 and Those Who Love Them. Loud music and £1 Carlsbergs put me back in a good place. Although, so did meeting up with some up the people from my Reading Theatre class who'd seen the play with me that night and making out with a cutie. Name of Alec -- curly black hair, glasses, just my type. That puts this semester's number (well, the QM semester) somewhere between two and four, depending on whose account of that night at Barfly you believe.
I've also started practice for the choir and the a cappella group here, neither of which are as serious or as good as the ones at Muhlenberg, but it'll be nice to back off on the intensity while trying to stay in voice for the semester. I have a feeling the a cappella group is going to make me miss InAcchord a lot.
That last part is really my only big story for the last week or so, on account of my being sick. Coming up on the schedule -- possibly Hail Mary tonight at Drapers, though I have no idea what that is, and only if I finish my Actor and the Body assignment in time, which I doubt I will. I'll probably just try to hit the hay early, because I did last night and I felt really good about it this morning. This weekend intending to take a day trip with Theo. I'm pushing for Bath. He and I also just booked a trip to Berlin for next month, which will be after my trip to Vienna with my mumma, which will be after my trip to Liverpool to see Tim!
WIHLT: Don't wear heels to a museum. It's actually possible for the pain to linger for two full days.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
How Did I Get In This Building Again?
It's 9:13 in the morning. Here is a list of things I have done over the last nine hours.
-Wrote a reflection for The Actor and the Body that I completely forgot about doing until the wee hours of the morning when I found the notes sheet I was supposed to use.
-Read the article for today's Shakespeare class on Shakespeare in Love.
-Watched some, but not all, of Shakespeare in Love, which is okay because I've studied it before and know it well.
-Read, summarized, and put together a Power Point presentation and a one-page handout for an article called "Reading (and Writing) the Ethics of Authorship: Shakespeare in Love as Postmodern Metanarrative."
-Tried to figure out what exactly a metanarrative is.
-Cleaned my room, mostly. Including finally putting my second suitcase in the storage space under my bed and having all clothes either put away or in a big cardboard box that is my makeshift hamper. I also fixed the mess that was my bed. All that's really left is one of my shelves that's intensely disorganized.
-Made a shopping list for the next time I hit Sainsbury's.
-Decided on my Halloween costume.
-Watched last week's episode of Cougar Town.
Here's a list of things I have not done over the last nine hours.
-Sleep.
Well, this is exciting. Looks like this is my first honest-to-god all-nighter. I'd sort of pulled them before, but always managed to sneak in a nap by late morning or early afternoon the next day, even that time I drove overnight from Allentown to Chicago. I learned to operate on very little sleep in high school, but never no sleep. Plus I've gotten quite used to getting close to as much sleep as I want since college started. But today I still need to shower, finish off the very end of this Power Point presentation (what was I thinking going first? I may have studied Shakespeare in Love before but I have no idea how these people do oral presentations! And this is twenty percent of my final grade! Are they going to laugh at me for having a Power Point? Because I haven't done a presentation without one in like seven years), print up the handouts for my class, and at least try to run through the presentation to make sure it's under five minutes and I won't get cut off. At least I have the assurance that I'll be nervous, and will therefore talk very fast and get through it more quickly than I mean to. And that's just before class (and is not counting eating and mainlining some caffeine). Then after Shakespeare class I have The Actor and the Body. A four hour movement class. And the task for this week as listed on Blackboard has led me to believe there will be pictures involved in today's class, so because I'm vain I need to try to look at least a little fly. Also, awake. So I'll arrive back here at six in the evening if I haven't fainted by then and probably completely fucking crash for the night. Fun times. So much for trying to find out how opening night of my play went.
Damn, this is another moody entry. It's my own fault, completely. I wasted all of yesterday afternoon and evening because I was dreading doing this presentation, since I wasn't sure what I was doing. I'm okay with it, I think I'm just anticipating being really cranky later, as I get when I'm tired. I'll have to carry ibuprofen. Again, I am so glad I bought it.
Here's my promise -- I'll try superhard to have a really good weekend (I think Theo and I are going to hit the Tate Modern) and then write about something happy.
WIHLT: Don't do this.
-Wrote a reflection for The Actor and the Body that I completely forgot about doing until the wee hours of the morning when I found the notes sheet I was supposed to use.
-Read the article for today's Shakespeare class on Shakespeare in Love.
-Watched some, but not all, of Shakespeare in Love, which is okay because I've studied it before and know it well.
-Read, summarized, and put together a Power Point presentation and a one-page handout for an article called "Reading (and Writing) the Ethics of Authorship: Shakespeare in Love as Postmodern Metanarrative."
-Tried to figure out what exactly a metanarrative is.
-Cleaned my room, mostly. Including finally putting my second suitcase in the storage space under my bed and having all clothes either put away or in a big cardboard box that is my makeshift hamper. I also fixed the mess that was my bed. All that's really left is one of my shelves that's intensely disorganized.
-Made a shopping list for the next time I hit Sainsbury's.
-Decided on my Halloween costume.
-Watched last week's episode of Cougar Town.
Here's a list of things I have not done over the last nine hours.
-Sleep.
Well, this is exciting. Looks like this is my first honest-to-god all-nighter. I'd sort of pulled them before, but always managed to sneak in a nap by late morning or early afternoon the next day, even that time I drove overnight from Allentown to Chicago. I learned to operate on very little sleep in high school, but never no sleep. Plus I've gotten quite used to getting close to as much sleep as I want since college started. But today I still need to shower, finish off the very end of this Power Point presentation (what was I thinking going first? I may have studied Shakespeare in Love before but I have no idea how these people do oral presentations! And this is twenty percent of my final grade! Are they going to laugh at me for having a Power Point? Because I haven't done a presentation without one in like seven years), print up the handouts for my class, and at least try to run through the presentation to make sure it's under five minutes and I won't get cut off. At least I have the assurance that I'll be nervous, and will therefore talk very fast and get through it more quickly than I mean to. And that's just before class (and is not counting eating and mainlining some caffeine). Then after Shakespeare class I have The Actor and the Body. A four hour movement class. And the task for this week as listed on Blackboard has led me to believe there will be pictures involved in today's class, so because I'm vain I need to try to look at least a little fly. Also, awake. So I'll arrive back here at six in the evening if I haven't fainted by then and probably completely fucking crash for the night. Fun times. So much for trying to find out how opening night of my play went.
Damn, this is another moody entry. It's my own fault, completely. I wasted all of yesterday afternoon and evening because I was dreading doing this presentation, since I wasn't sure what I was doing. I'm okay with it, I think I'm just anticipating being really cranky later, as I get when I'm tired. I'll have to carry ibuprofen. Again, I am so glad I bought it.
Here's my promise -- I'll try superhard to have a really good weekend (I think Theo and I are going to hit the Tate Modern) and then write about something happy.
WIHLT: Don't do this.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Down In The Tube Station Sometime Before Seven.
Remember when I was going to go to Spitalfields, or Portobello, or do my laundry, or do anything at all productive over the last two days? Well, screw that. I have a chest cold and I reserve the right to lay in bed all day as long as I don't have classes.
I did see two shows for my Reading Theatre class over the last two days, though. Monday night we saw a mediocre production of Annie Get Your Gun. It wouldn't have been my first choice for the first show I saw in London...even if I did find the actor playing Frank Butler wildly attractive. I didn't even mind that they had a weirdly placed gratuitously shirtless shaving scene. Patrick tried to cover my eyes. I would have none of it. But the staging of the show was weird, the direction was all over the place, the accents were hit-and-miss, and the talent was nothing special. I felt like I could have seen the same show at any particularly good community theatre in the States.
Tonight we saw...well, I wouldn't even call it a play, I'd call it a piece of theatre, called The Author, by Tim Crouch. There was no playing space, just two sets of risers with benches (though comfortable ones) facing each other. Like Black Watch but smaller and with nothing in between. The actors, one of whom was Tim Crouch, were seated in the audience and the whole thing was about the experience Crouch, these two actors who had done one of his plays, and an audience member had with said play. It was...well, interesting. It's one of those experiences where, if someone asked me if I enjoyed it, I wouldn't be able to answer "yes." But that wouldn't mean that I didn't appreciate it. There was some highly disturbing content at the end...disturbing enough that I'd never recount it if you paid me, and I'm not even sure I completely understood it. But I bought a copy of the play, for three pounds, and I'll certainly be interested to see what happens when my class discusses it tomorrow.
Oh, one more thing happened that was productive! I can finally make tuna a la king on my own. I had to have my mumma e-mail me the recipe, but I did it without her looking over my shoulder and it actually tasted pretty close to right. A little too much salt. It was excellent comfort food over the last two days, and I still have another can and enough ingredients for another batch. It would certainly help if I had a toaster, which I think we're supposed to get soon, but in the meantime I toasted the bread in my skillet. Which I'm also weirdly proud of, because I do have a latent fear of setting everything in the kitchen on fire, or at least making the alarm go off and being blamed for the evacuation of hundreds of students, plus the arrival of three fire trucks.
Anyway, I'm expecting to feel better tomorrow. Which is good timing considering it's my first day of class for the week. (Oh yeah, be jealous.) I'm glad I wasn't horribly sick with a fever or anything, because of course it's especially miserable to be sick when you're away from home, and I'd venture an opinion that it's worse to be sick here in England than when I'm in Pennsylvania, where I spend so much time that it practically is home. However, there are some aspects of my life in England that are quite convenient when I'm ill.
1. A single room. I can spend all day in bed, without getting up for anything but the bathroom, which is also in my room, and just wallow in my illness. This may not sound appealing to everyone but I like having the option. Plus my room can remain a huuuge mess. Until Thursday, when the cleaning woman comes to vacuum, that is.
2. A kitchen. As I've said, my flat has a lovely large kitchen right next door to my bedroom. There's a refrigerator in my bedroom itself, so I don't always need to go to the kitchen, but as I said...tuna a la king.
3. A kettle. Naturally my kitchen came equipped with an electric kettle that provides boiling water at the flick of a switch. And since my cold has been heavily in my throat and chest, I've been drinking tea like it's my job. Kettle's on the blink right now, but the microwave works okay too. Just don't tell any of my English friends.
4. My shower room. I call it my bathroom, but the school calls it a shower room, which is really a better name for it because it's truly just the shower, with a toilet and sink. There's not even a border on the ground to keep the water from the shower in -- the whole room is pretty much the shower. However, as it's so small, and my water gets so hot, every shower I take is like a little trip to a steam room and clears me right up -- for a time, at least.
Anyway, I have reading to do. For, you know, Reading Theatre. And then I should probably get started on my presentation for Thursday since I'm supposed to send it in tomorrow...good thing the presentation is on Shakespeare in Love and I studied the hell out of it in Pinter/Stoppard last year.
WIHLT: Tim Crouch is a truly depraved human being.
I did see two shows for my Reading Theatre class over the last two days, though. Monday night we saw a mediocre production of Annie Get Your Gun. It wouldn't have been my first choice for the first show I saw in London...even if I did find the actor playing Frank Butler wildly attractive. I didn't even mind that they had a weirdly placed gratuitously shirtless shaving scene. Patrick tried to cover my eyes. I would have none of it. But the staging of the show was weird, the direction was all over the place, the accents were hit-and-miss, and the talent was nothing special. I felt like I could have seen the same show at any particularly good community theatre in the States.
Tonight we saw...well, I wouldn't even call it a play, I'd call it a piece of theatre, called The Author, by Tim Crouch. There was no playing space, just two sets of risers with benches (though comfortable ones) facing each other. Like Black Watch but smaller and with nothing in between. The actors, one of whom was Tim Crouch, were seated in the audience and the whole thing was about the experience Crouch, these two actors who had done one of his plays, and an audience member had with said play. It was...well, interesting. It's one of those experiences where, if someone asked me if I enjoyed it, I wouldn't be able to answer "yes." But that wouldn't mean that I didn't appreciate it. There was some highly disturbing content at the end...disturbing enough that I'd never recount it if you paid me, and I'm not even sure I completely understood it. But I bought a copy of the play, for three pounds, and I'll certainly be interested to see what happens when my class discusses it tomorrow.
Oh, one more thing happened that was productive! I can finally make tuna a la king on my own. I had to have my mumma e-mail me the recipe, but I did it without her looking over my shoulder and it actually tasted pretty close to right. A little too much salt. It was excellent comfort food over the last two days, and I still have another can and enough ingredients for another batch. It would certainly help if I had a toaster, which I think we're supposed to get soon, but in the meantime I toasted the bread in my skillet. Which I'm also weirdly proud of, because I do have a latent fear of setting everything in the kitchen on fire, or at least making the alarm go off and being blamed for the evacuation of hundreds of students, plus the arrival of three fire trucks.
Anyway, I'm expecting to feel better tomorrow. Which is good timing considering it's my first day of class for the week. (Oh yeah, be jealous.) I'm glad I wasn't horribly sick with a fever or anything, because of course it's especially miserable to be sick when you're away from home, and I'd venture an opinion that it's worse to be sick here in England than when I'm in Pennsylvania, where I spend so much time that it practically is home. However, there are some aspects of my life in England that are quite convenient when I'm ill.
1. A single room. I can spend all day in bed, without getting up for anything but the bathroom, which is also in my room, and just wallow in my illness. This may not sound appealing to everyone but I like having the option. Plus my room can remain a huuuge mess. Until Thursday, when the cleaning woman comes to vacuum, that is.
2. A kitchen. As I've said, my flat has a lovely large kitchen right next door to my bedroom. There's a refrigerator in my bedroom itself, so I don't always need to go to the kitchen, but as I said...tuna a la king.
3. A kettle. Naturally my kitchen came equipped with an electric kettle that provides boiling water at the flick of a switch. And since my cold has been heavily in my throat and chest, I've been drinking tea like it's my job. Kettle's on the blink right now, but the microwave works okay too. Just don't tell any of my English friends.
4. My shower room. I call it my bathroom, but the school calls it a shower room, which is really a better name for it because it's truly just the shower, with a toilet and sink. There's not even a border on the ground to keep the water from the shower in -- the whole room is pretty much the shower. However, as it's so small, and my water gets so hot, every shower I take is like a little trip to a steam room and clears me right up -- for a time, at least.
Anyway, I have reading to do. For, you know, Reading Theatre. And then I should probably get started on my presentation for Thursday since I'm supposed to send it in tomorrow...good thing the presentation is on Shakespeare in Love and I studied the hell out of it in Pinter/Stoppard last year.
WIHLT: Tim Crouch is a truly depraved human being.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
The Book Of Right-On Has Fallen Down The Stairs.
Ugh, I may be starting to get sick. I woke up this morning with an epically painful throat. I took the ibuprofen that I luckily picked up at Sainsbury's the other day just in case I needed it, and I feel better, but my allergies have been all nasty so my throat is itchy too. Looks like I'll have to make another trip to pick up some allergy medicine and maybe something for my throat. I feel okay otherwise, besides still being incredibly sore from Actor and the Body, though, so this could just be from too much drinking and yelling in loud bars.
Theo came over yesterday. We were originally planning on doing something interesting, but eventually we just made a frozen pizza in my flat, read from my Europe guidebook on places we might want to go, and left Facebook videos for Meier and Matt. Yes, my life in London is terribly exciting. Further highlighted by the fact that my Saturday night consisted of another trip to Weatherspoon's with Flat 16 (and those who love them). I only had one drink, which for once was not a beer or a cider, and it was good, but then I didn't feel like drinking anymore. My throat was already starting to bug me. Luckily 'Spoons closes early, so we took off, stopped at one of the thousand "Perfect Fried Chicken" places lining Mile End Road between 'Spoons and campus for food, and were back at Flat 16 quite early. I didn't stay long. And I watched "Bend It Like Beckham" before I went to sleep.
Originally my plan was to go to Brick Lane Market today. When I mentioned it to Ange and Zito, they said they were going to go too, around lunchtime to eat and since they seemed sure the market stayed open until late afternoon or early evening, I decided to jst go with them. I should have checked to make sure last night, though, because I didn't think to look up the hours of Brick Lane until after I'd gotten out of the shower close to noon today, and it closes in ::checks:: thirty-five minutes. Damn it. And of course I haven't heard a thing from either of them yet today. I guess I'll just go next weekend, or whenever the next Sunday is that I'm in London. Since I should really get going on that whole travelling thing I was going to do. But with badly my throat hurt this morning, I don't know that I would have wanted to go if I'd gotten up early enough to anyway.
This entry is particularly mopey. I really am liking London. I occasionally get homesick but it's not unbearable. In fact, I'm glad I'm not going to Muhlenberg next weekend for New Voices, even though I do really want to see my play, because it would probably just make the homesickness worse and as long as I stay in a groove here I'm fine. It's just that when I'm in a particularly good or energetic mood, I'm less likely to feel like sitting down and writing a long blog entry.
Also, the other night I made chicken breasts stuffed with cream cheese and pesto wrapped in parma ham with mixed vegetables. It was pretty good. Well, it probably wasn't that good, but it was good for someone who never cooks. I'm just kind of proud of that meal so I thought I'd write it down...and damn it, now I'm hungry.
I haven't ended with a "What I Have Learned Today" since my first post. So, WIHLT: Always check the hours of somewhere you're planning to go the night before.
Theo came over yesterday. We were originally planning on doing something interesting, but eventually we just made a frozen pizza in my flat, read from my Europe guidebook on places we might want to go, and left Facebook videos for Meier and Matt. Yes, my life in London is terribly exciting. Further highlighted by the fact that my Saturday night consisted of another trip to Weatherspoon's with Flat 16 (and those who love them). I only had one drink, which for once was not a beer or a cider, and it was good, but then I didn't feel like drinking anymore. My throat was already starting to bug me. Luckily 'Spoons closes early, so we took off, stopped at one of the thousand "Perfect Fried Chicken" places lining Mile End Road between 'Spoons and campus for food, and were back at Flat 16 quite early. I didn't stay long. And I watched "Bend It Like Beckham" before I went to sleep.
Originally my plan was to go to Brick Lane Market today. When I mentioned it to Ange and Zito, they said they were going to go too, around lunchtime to eat and since they seemed sure the market stayed open until late afternoon or early evening, I decided to jst go with them. I should have checked to make sure last night, though, because I didn't think to look up the hours of Brick Lane until after I'd gotten out of the shower close to noon today, and it closes in ::checks:: thirty-five minutes. Damn it. And of course I haven't heard a thing from either of them yet today. I guess I'll just go next weekend, or whenever the next Sunday is that I'm in London. Since I should really get going on that whole travelling thing I was going to do. But with badly my throat hurt this morning, I don't know that I would have wanted to go if I'd gotten up early enough to anyway.
This entry is particularly mopey. I really am liking London. I occasionally get homesick but it's not unbearable. In fact, I'm glad I'm not going to Muhlenberg next weekend for New Voices, even though I do really want to see my play, because it would probably just make the homesickness worse and as long as I stay in a groove here I'm fine. It's just that when I'm in a particularly good or energetic mood, I'm less likely to feel like sitting down and writing a long blog entry.
Also, the other night I made chicken breasts stuffed with cream cheese and pesto wrapped in parma ham with mixed vegetables. It was pretty good. Well, it probably wasn't that good, but it was good for someone who never cooks. I'm just kind of proud of that meal so I thought I'd write it down...and damn it, now I'm hungry.
I haven't ended with a "What I Have Learned Today" since my first post. So, WIHLT: Always check the hours of somewhere you're planning to go the night before.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Depending On The Meaning Of "Fall," That Could Be Bad.
Wow, remember that time I was going to try and document my time abroad? Remember that other time I sucked at it?
There's absolutely no way to be detailed about the last couple of weeks. There's been a lot of drinking. A lot of meeping. I like hanging out in Flat 16, but I'm glad I've started classes with some people closer to my own age. Apparently I made out with three different guys last week at Barfly, but I cling firmly to the memory of there only being one. I have a working UK phone now. I had dinner with Theo last week.
I'm currently mad sore from Actor and the Body and kind of hung over from last night. I wish I could find Pedialyte in this country. Maybe I can see if Daddy can have some sent to me.
Now that classes have started I'll try to write more regularly. Westminster planned for today. I've seen it before but it'll be nice to go into the city, and I'm going to introduce Angela and Zito to Theo.
I have no writing flair at the moment.
There's absolutely no way to be detailed about the last couple of weeks. There's been a lot of drinking. A lot of meeping. I like hanging out in Flat 16, but I'm glad I've started classes with some people closer to my own age. Apparently I made out with three different guys last week at Barfly, but I cling firmly to the memory of there only being one. I have a working UK phone now. I had dinner with Theo last week.
I'm currently mad sore from Actor and the Body and kind of hung over from last night. I wish I could find Pedialyte in this country. Maybe I can see if Daddy can have some sent to me.
Now that classes have started I'll try to write more regularly. Westminster planned for today. I've seen it before but it'll be nice to go into the city, and I'm going to introduce Angela and Zito to Theo.
I have no writing flair at the moment.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
All Other Countries Have Prozac.
Okay, some actual downtime. Let's start from the beginning.
The flight. It was okay. I was sitting next to a nice older man whose wife is in the military and is stationed in England, so he flies back and forth a lot. When we arrive he helped me get a trolley and load my luggage onto it, which was absolutely essential to the fact that I'm still alive. So that rocked. However, my television didn't work for most of the flight, which kind of sucked. It didn't work at first, and the flight attendant said she'd give me a voucher, but then it started working, so I told her, but then it stopped working again and I didn't want to be obnoxious about it so I just played Word Warp on my iPhone instead. Whatever. I got a few decent hours of sleep thanks to my sleeping pills, but then when I woke up there was no way I'd get back to sleep again so I just went with it. The meal was pretty awful -- they heated the entire plate, which would seem to make sense, except that it included a "salad," which is not meant to be served warm. I use quotation marks around the word "salad" because it was honestly just a little container of lettuce and a little tub of dressing. But complaining about airplane food is nothing new. Side note, as we were coming in for a landing I looked out the window just as we were flying over an honest-to-goodness castle. That's when I knew I was in Europe. Thanks, Eddie Izzard.
I had to go from Terminal 1 to Terminal 3 at Heathrow to find the Queen Mary people, which took approximately six years. Again, I'm glad I had a trolley. But there was a bus leaving shortly after I found them (since my flight landed earlier than planned and I seem to have gotten through customs and immigration just before the two-hour line came into effect) and I got on. They even loaded my super-heavy bags on and off the bus for me. The driver recommended that we try to get some sleep since the ride would be at least an hour, and a lot of people did, but I couldn't have slept if I tried. Instead I sat by a window and tried to soak in everything English I could while listening to the most poignant-sounding music I could find on my now semi-useless iPhone.
I found my way to my building and my flat relatively easily, though there was an embarrassing couple of minutes after which I realized I had been trying to use my key to get into Flat 3, across the hall from mine. Not embarrassing because anyone saw me, just because it really was remarkably stupid of me. I was the first one to arrive, so I got to poke around in the kitchen without anyone around and try my key in all of the many hallway closets we have. It worked in none of them. I'm not sure why we have all these closets that none of us can get into, but I'll try not to stress about it.
My room is small, of course, but it's a single and since I'm only here for three months with as much as I can fit into two suitcases, I don't mind. If I had all my stuff here there would be a serious problem, not least of all because there's no dresser (just a few drawers in the desk that I've allocated for my socks, underwear, and pajamas) and I have half the closet space that Zito and Angela do. But we'll get to that. Anyway, there was a door right next to the entrance that I guess I took for a closet at first, but then I realized there was already a closet (if a small one) so I opened the door and found...a bathroom! (If a small one.) Really, it's basically a shower with a toilet and sink in it, but it's mine and I can deal. I may change my tune after I attempt to shave my legs in there for the first time today, but right now I'm sticking to it. I have a pretty big window right next to my bed, and a big desk that's kind of slanted in a way that makes the room feel quite open even though it's so small.
It didn't take me too long to unpack, just a matter of deciding where all my clothes would go and such. The room's a little boring but I can deal with it. Then I had to find an internet cord because for some reason there wasn't one in my room, but it was hassle-free and I e-mailed my mumma. At this point I was still the only one in my flat, and I didn't have a working phone or any way of getting in touch with Zito or Angela, who I knew were due to land shortly after I was so they should have at least been on campus by then. I did have their flat numbers, and their building was easy to get into since people were always coming in and out with the frenzy of moving in. It took a while for anyone to answer the door, but I got to Angela's room, finally, and then to Zito's. We all needed to buy some things so we got directions to a Sainsbury's and went with a bunch of girls that we had met -- some lived with Zito, some from the plane or the bus, all American associate students -- and Patrick, who found us shortly before the trip, to pick up necessities.
Afterwards there was showering and a lot of very relieved faces at finally being clean and even a little bit refreshed after flying all night and having been awake for a very long time. So Patrick, Angela, Zito, Justine (who we ran into downstairs) went to get free chili and rice from some fresher's week event, which wasn't all that good, but was free. Angela didn't have any, though, so after a lot of wandering around and splitting off Patrick and I went with her to a co-op grocery store we had passed on the way to Sainsbury's so she could get dinner. Then we all split off for a short time to our own flats, promising to meet soon when we had gathered ourselves and Patrick was done Skyping Lynn.
When I got home, I finally had a roommate. His name is Javi, short for Javier, and he's from Spain. He went to some kind of international American school with all American teachers, though, so his English is terrific and I think I'm going to have a good time living with him.
We all ended up in the kitchen of Zito's flat with a mix of exchange students and Zito's British fresher roommates. We talked about the differences between our currencies, American television, accents, etc. After a lot of dallying and after Patrick had come with me to get some sterling (finally), the six Muhlenbergers -- myself, Zito, Angela, Patrick, Justine, and Alyssa -- went to a pub near campus called The New Globe. It was small, friendly, not crowded...in other words, exactly what we needed. We all got a drink (I got two) and enjoyed being in London. Before long, though, Zito was kind of trashed off her empty stomach, lack of sleep, and about half a Guinness. We were all wiped, so Patrick finished off my drink for me and we bounced.
Then we all hung out in Zito's kitchen for a little longer and then went back to our respective flats. I was in bed by eleven, or maybe eleven thirty. Then, of course, I woke up at half past four and had to force myself to go back to sleep until seven, when I just couldn't fight it anymore. I loaded last night's pictures onto Facebook, I watched the unaired pilot episode of Dollhouse, and as I though longingly of going to a grocery store and grabbing something to soothe my rumbling belly, I resigned myself to the idea of waiting until eleven, when I had promised to wake Zito up so we could have breakfast. Luckily she was awake by eight-thirty and after I dressed and brushed my teeth, we set out to find food. We ran into Javi on the quest, and he came with us for coffee (tea for me) before we got some food at a cafeteria-like place underneath Zito's flat. After we met up with Angela we all went back to Sainsbury's for more things we had realized we needed.
Then Javi and I came back to our flat for lunch. We were still the only ones around so I brought my laptop into the kitchen so I could play music -- we had established at breakfast that he was an indie and classic rock fan as well. He grilled a sandwich and I made pizza. In the meantime, we talked about music, our families, American sports, and I sort of got a crash course on the Spanish civil war and its effect on today's politics. He's very knowledgable, but really just in the way that you can tell he's genuinely interested in learning things. We also speculated about what our flatmates might be like, because we hope they're as awesome as us so that hanging out in the kitchen with all of them can be fun and mellow.
Anyway, I'm probably going to take a shower and stuff now, so I can be ready-ish for the traffic light party tonight when I go to Zito's to cook dinner. Red = you're taken. Yellow = try your luck. I think I'm going to borrow a yellow dress from Ange, because I'm a little uncomfortable about green = up for it (even though it would be fun to wear my Green Bay Packers jersey and try to make it fashion). I'm not sure how heavily I want to be hit on tonight. We'll see.
The flight. It was okay. I was sitting next to a nice older man whose wife is in the military and is stationed in England, so he flies back and forth a lot. When we arrive he helped me get a trolley and load my luggage onto it, which was absolutely essential to the fact that I'm still alive. So that rocked. However, my television didn't work for most of the flight, which kind of sucked. It didn't work at first, and the flight attendant said she'd give me a voucher, but then it started working, so I told her, but then it stopped working again and I didn't want to be obnoxious about it so I just played Word Warp on my iPhone instead. Whatever. I got a few decent hours of sleep thanks to my sleeping pills, but then when I woke up there was no way I'd get back to sleep again so I just went with it. The meal was pretty awful -- they heated the entire plate, which would seem to make sense, except that it included a "salad," which is not meant to be served warm. I use quotation marks around the word "salad" because it was honestly just a little container of lettuce and a little tub of dressing. But complaining about airplane food is nothing new. Side note, as we were coming in for a landing I looked out the window just as we were flying over an honest-to-goodness castle. That's when I knew I was in Europe. Thanks, Eddie Izzard.
I had to go from Terminal 1 to Terminal 3 at Heathrow to find the Queen Mary people, which took approximately six years. Again, I'm glad I had a trolley. But there was a bus leaving shortly after I found them (since my flight landed earlier than planned and I seem to have gotten through customs and immigration just before the two-hour line came into effect) and I got on. They even loaded my super-heavy bags on and off the bus for me. The driver recommended that we try to get some sleep since the ride would be at least an hour, and a lot of people did, but I couldn't have slept if I tried. Instead I sat by a window and tried to soak in everything English I could while listening to the most poignant-sounding music I could find on my now semi-useless iPhone.
I found my way to my building and my flat relatively easily, though there was an embarrassing couple of minutes after which I realized I had been trying to use my key to get into Flat 3, across the hall from mine. Not embarrassing because anyone saw me, just because it really was remarkably stupid of me. I was the first one to arrive, so I got to poke around in the kitchen without anyone around and try my key in all of the many hallway closets we have. It worked in none of them. I'm not sure why we have all these closets that none of us can get into, but I'll try not to stress about it.
My room is small, of course, but it's a single and since I'm only here for three months with as much as I can fit into two suitcases, I don't mind. If I had all my stuff here there would be a serious problem, not least of all because there's no dresser (just a few drawers in the desk that I've allocated for my socks, underwear, and pajamas) and I have half the closet space that Zito and Angela do. But we'll get to that. Anyway, there was a door right next to the entrance that I guess I took for a closet at first, but then I realized there was already a closet (if a small one) so I opened the door and found...a bathroom! (If a small one.) Really, it's basically a shower with a toilet and sink in it, but it's mine and I can deal. I may change my tune after I attempt to shave my legs in there for the first time today, but right now I'm sticking to it. I have a pretty big window right next to my bed, and a big desk that's kind of slanted in a way that makes the room feel quite open even though it's so small.
It didn't take me too long to unpack, just a matter of deciding where all my clothes would go and such. The room's a little boring but I can deal with it. Then I had to find an internet cord because for some reason there wasn't one in my room, but it was hassle-free and I e-mailed my mumma. At this point I was still the only one in my flat, and I didn't have a working phone or any way of getting in touch with Zito or Angela, who I knew were due to land shortly after I was so they should have at least been on campus by then. I did have their flat numbers, and their building was easy to get into since people were always coming in and out with the frenzy of moving in. It took a while for anyone to answer the door, but I got to Angela's room, finally, and then to Zito's. We all needed to buy some things so we got directions to a Sainsbury's and went with a bunch of girls that we had met -- some lived with Zito, some from the plane or the bus, all American associate students -- and Patrick, who found us shortly before the trip, to pick up necessities.
Afterwards there was showering and a lot of very relieved faces at finally being clean and even a little bit refreshed after flying all night and having been awake for a very long time. So Patrick, Angela, Zito, Justine (who we ran into downstairs) went to get free chili and rice from some fresher's week event, which wasn't all that good, but was free. Angela didn't have any, though, so after a lot of wandering around and splitting off Patrick and I went with her to a co-op grocery store we had passed on the way to Sainsbury's so she could get dinner. Then we all split off for a short time to our own flats, promising to meet soon when we had gathered ourselves and Patrick was done Skyping Lynn.
When I got home, I finally had a roommate. His name is Javi, short for Javier, and he's from Spain. He went to some kind of international American school with all American teachers, though, so his English is terrific and I think I'm going to have a good time living with him.
We all ended up in the kitchen of Zito's flat with a mix of exchange students and Zito's British fresher roommates. We talked about the differences between our currencies, American television, accents, etc. After a lot of dallying and after Patrick had come with me to get some sterling (finally), the six Muhlenbergers -- myself, Zito, Angela, Patrick, Justine, and Alyssa -- went to a pub near campus called The New Globe. It was small, friendly, not crowded...in other words, exactly what we needed. We all got a drink (I got two) and enjoyed being in London. Before long, though, Zito was kind of trashed off her empty stomach, lack of sleep, and about half a Guinness. We were all wiped, so Patrick finished off my drink for me and we bounced.
Then we all hung out in Zito's kitchen for a little longer and then went back to our respective flats. I was in bed by eleven, or maybe eleven thirty. Then, of course, I woke up at half past four and had to force myself to go back to sleep until seven, when I just couldn't fight it anymore. I loaded last night's pictures onto Facebook, I watched the unaired pilot episode of Dollhouse, and as I though longingly of going to a grocery store and grabbing something to soothe my rumbling belly, I resigned myself to the idea of waiting until eleven, when I had promised to wake Zito up so we could have breakfast. Luckily she was awake by eight-thirty and after I dressed and brushed my teeth, we set out to find food. We ran into Javi on the quest, and he came with us for coffee (tea for me) before we got some food at a cafeteria-like place underneath Zito's flat. After we met up with Angela we all went back to Sainsbury's for more things we had realized we needed.
Then Javi and I came back to our flat for lunch. We were still the only ones around so I brought my laptop into the kitchen so I could play music -- we had established at breakfast that he was an indie and classic rock fan as well. He grilled a sandwich and I made pizza. In the meantime, we talked about music, our families, American sports, and I sort of got a crash course on the Spanish civil war and its effect on today's politics. He's very knowledgable, but really just in the way that you can tell he's genuinely interested in learning things. We also speculated about what our flatmates might be like, because we hope they're as awesome as us so that hanging out in the kitchen with all of them can be fun and mellow.
Anyway, I'm probably going to take a shower and stuff now, so I can be ready-ish for the traffic light party tonight when I go to Zito's to cook dinner. Red = you're taken. Yellow = try your luck. I think I'm going to borrow a yellow dress from Ange, because I'm a little uncomfortable about green = up for it (even though it would be fun to wear my Green Bay Packers jersey and try to make it fashion). I'm not sure how heavily I want to be hit on tonight. We'll see.
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