You're more than in my head

Today, I got to experience the annual joy and rapture that is Christmas dinner with my dad's side of the family; that's always an adventure. Between my little second cousins who spend the whole time running around and screaming, and my 93-year-old grandfather who never has any idea what's going on or who anyone is, it makes for one festive holiday. Needless to say there is a great deal of defensive drinking on Christmas...

I'm starting to feel a bit pathetic about my current life situation. I mean, taking time off school is perfectly acceptable, but when I decided to do it I had this shiny romanticized idea of being able to do whatever I want, released of the time restraints of semesters and due dates and deadlines... I conveniently failed to take into account the fact that I just spent literally ALL my monetary worth in London, and thus can't really do anything. I'm not necessarily complaining; I think as the season progresses I'll be glad I decided to stay home, but when I think about it now it just seems so lame: with 3 semesters to go in my degree, I'm living with my parents and working at Smoothie King.

I'm pretty sure the I'm-a-big-loser rut just came from talking to British Boy earlier (why do I always find boys at the most inconvenient times?). I always thought if I were to leave school I'd spend all my time just traveling around, going places on a whim; turns out that is completely impractical. And now, I have all this free time, and all I want to do is jet off back to London, and I can't. Fuck you, practicality.

I've decided I'm giving myself the equivalent of one semester to figure out what the fuck I want to do. By the fall I will either be heading to some (affordable) school, have a proper job, or I will have robbed a bank and fled to Monaco with my devilishly handsome partner-in-crime to open a casino under an assumed identity. Those are my options.

Whatever I end up doing though, there will be kitties involved!

Happy Christmas, bitches!

On any given day you'll find me gone

What up homies! Back in Amurrica, y'all! I mean, I've been back for two days now, but it took a while to sink in...

Leaving was weird. I went to visit the boy's family, so I was gone over the weekend when most people left, meaning I never got to see them. I came back Sunday night to a nearly empty dorm. It's strange, because none of these people was a necessarily close friend, but they were people with whom I associated on a daily basis, and I had gotten very accustomed to their presence; so, it's strange to think that I'll most likely never see any of them again.

The boy's family was very lovely. When I met his mother she looked a bit teary and went "oh, Michael, she's just lovely!" very sincerely. (Sidenote: what is it with me and dudes named Mike? It's starting to freak me out.) It's still weird though, because it was like the family-meeting thing was simultaneously a next-step-in-the-relationship kinda gig and a final nice-knowing-you-here's-what-could-have-been thing. When I left he kept insisting that it was not the last time we'd see eachother and we'd stay in touch and blah blah blah, but I know from (recent) past experience that that won't work. Oh well. He was nice, though.

It feels so unnatural to think that I won't be back in school in the Spring. I guess there's still abou a 2% chance that I'll be back, but that is entirely dependent on the financial aid I get, and this time I'm not going to make my family struggle to find the money (plus I just spent literally ALL of the remainder of my education fund on Westminster). Basically, I'm only going back if they give me A LOT of money, and I know that is extremely unlikely. Thank god I got my summer job back.

Never fear, though, friends; I am already planning when I can come up and visit y'all. I mean, I have to work a few weeks/months first and re-earn some money, but I want to come up as sson as possible. I miss everybody like crazy! I miss the area, too. I'm not too bothered about the whole going to school bit, but I just mmiss the Hampshire routine, I guess. I'd like to get it back just for a few days, at least.

All I really want in life is the means to bounce back and forth between all the people I love, without worrying about so much goddamn money. I don't think I ever really need to stay in one place for too long, as long as I know I can come and go from anywhere as I please. Why can't I just be a nomad? Or a professional couchsurfer? Or, like, on the run from the law?

Whatevs. It's drinking time.

The security guard in my building is a creeper. Stop looking at me with disapproving eyes!

What are the odds this ends and we don't meet again?

It's soon to be my last weekend in London, so I'm spending it... in Brighton. Meeting a boy's family. ??? My gentleman-friend, of sorts, invited me to come stay with him in Sussex. I'm trying really hard not to read a lot into it and freak out, as is my first reaction; in general, people in a not-quite-relationship don't exactly get to the parents-meeting stage (especially when one of those people is 5 days away from moving out of the country...). When I look at the situation, though, it seems a lot less strange: he was planning on going home for the break on Friday, but decided to stick around here to have a few more days with me; this way, he can go home AND we can have more time.

The only problem is he wants me to stay until Monday, and just leave from there for the airport. But that would mean that TOMORROW would be my last full day in London. I don't think I can handle that. I'll probably just go up for the weekend, come home early on Sunday, and have the rest of the day to hang out here. I still have so much I want to do! I haven't been to the Tower of London yet! (At least not inside...) I haven't bought any Christmas presents! I haven't even seen Buckingham Palace! I HAVEN'T SEEN THE QUEEN! (Not that I really expect to see her, but still.) What have I been doing for the past 2 and a half months? I wasted too much time!

This brief glimpse into my fascinating melodrama was brought to you by my my extreme aversion to homework. Tune in next week, when we will examine he low grades received as a result of said aversion.

Sleep delays my life (get up!)

Oh my, I am the laziest of lazies. Definitely got up at 1:30 today. Woo. I then dicked around on the internet for a bit under the pretense of writing one of my four final papers (I haven't even thought about my final presentation yet...), read a book that has NOTHING to do with school, and took a shower. It is now 5 PM and guess who has nothing done? The worst thing is that I just don't fucking care. I know I'll get it done eventually; I always do, and I always get pretty acceptable marks on things. Because I strive for excellence, obvs.

Lately I've been planning my life as a college-dropout trophy wife. Here's how it'll go. I will hone my skills in the kitchen, and combined with my already stellar skills in the bedroom (ha!) I will snag a very rich young bachelor. We'll call him Stan. I will thoroughly enjoy my life with Stan for approximately 5 years, or enough time to convince him that I actually love him while spending my days drinking martinis and bangin' the 18 year-old down the street when Stan's at work; after the allotted time, I steal Stan's money (because he trusts me so much that he gave me access to his bank account) and flee to Europe. Later, I will write a feminist manifesto reccounting my horrible life as a housewife and how I escaped the oppression and have now dedicated my life to the educating and empowering women everywhere. (Stan, meanwhile, will have gone mad after losing me, and will be institutionalized in a psych ward to keep him from hurting himself or others.) My book will become a bestseller, because critics can't bash feminist writing without being called bigots, and I will become rich and famous. This sounds like a god plan, right?

I'm so hungry, and so horribly out of money. Seriously, I currently have in my kitchen the following things: rotten celery, rotten carrots, the tiny nub of a cucumber, some not-quite-rotten-but-almost baby spinach, brown rice, tea, peanut butter, one slice of moldy bread, and half a bottle of white wine. A delicious dinner that does not make. Minus the wine.

I think I'm gonna go try to fanagle a charity potato off my neighbor down the hall...

Your sex is on fire

In Amsterdam... this is a silly place. mean, it's fun, but I swear to god the entire city is just a big joke. I'm sure there have to be real people here, who do real jobs and such, but outside the airport I haven't seen any. Maybe when I go Anne Frank's house, or the Van Gogh museum, there will be slightly less whimsy. Neither of them were exactly known for being whimsical, after all.

I love my hostel. It's clean and warm and totally doesn't smell like mold like the bad Edinburgh place. Also, there's a pub attached, and residents of the hostel get a 25% discout on food and two-for one vodka drinks. So, score!

My only complaint now is that we only get wifi in the pub, so I'm sitting here surrounded by a bunch of people eating and drinking and being cool and social, and I'm on my computer. I look super awesome. Drinking, alone in the corner with a laptop. Win.

I'm supposed to go meet up later with some random dudes that I met last night. I honestly don't know how I find these guys, or where they comefrom; I mean, not sketchy guys, just random. That that I'm complaining, though... hahahaha. They're always Australian, too. If I hadn't actually been there before, I would be convinced that no Australian actually lives in Australia; I've met more roaming Australians than anyone else. And they are all completely insane. I love it.

Alright. There's a soccer match on, and I wanna watch!

There will be noise, there will be glad

Happy Thanksgiving from London! I'm pretty excited for tonight, we're introducing the Brits to the gluttonous magic that is this festive feast. It's funny, we're doing a full Thanksgiving dinner, Turkey and all, and there will only be two Americans present. It will be a most excellent non-American American holiday though. I'm making my cranberry sauce! And pie! Pecan pie! (I wanted to do the fatty-fat peanut butter Reese's cheesecake that I did last year, but they don't sell Reese's here... sad face.)

I have this whiny-ass American neighbor on my hall who spends all of her time complaining about the UK and how everything here is different (uh, did you expect it to be another America? Of course it's different you twat, it's another country!), and I just heard her complain about how she "hates being in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving" and how she's upset that she can't go shopping on Black Friday. I would like to punch her repeatedly in the face and then possibly shove her head in a toilet. Would that be inappropriate?

Anyway. I need to buy cranberries. Those might be important, for cranberry sauce and all.

Gonna fuck up your ego

Boys are dumb. That's about it.

Oh, and I lost my wallet in a club, but got it back. Cool story, right? I'm gonna tell that one at parties.

Regrets, regrets

I am supposed to be in Ireland right now. I'm not. I missed my flight, and it was 100 pounds to get on the next one. That's more than I paid for my outgoing and returning flights combined. I do not have 100 pounds to get on a plane. (Well, I have it, but I need it to be able to, you know, eat and stuff.) I feel like huge jerky bitch, too, because the friend I was going to visit, the one I haven't seen in ten years, was going to pick me up at the airport, which is relatively far out of her way; so of course, I had to go and run out of credit on my phone, so I couldn't call to tell her not to come get me. So she went to the airport. And waited. And I was not there. (I briefed her on the sitch via Facebook, but she didn't get it in time.) Thus, not only am I sad and not in Ireland, I am sad and not in Ireland AND a jerk.

This calls for vodka, stat.

Come on mood shift shift back to good again

I'm on the train back to London from my weekend in Scotland. My weekend which was somewhat of a bust. It was great the first two nights, in my first hostel. The place was really cozy and homey, and was exactly like I've usually imagined hostels to be, where people from literally every part of the globe sit around telling tales of their travels in a warm kitchen that smells like a delightful concoction of international quisine. So, I may be exaggerating, it was not quite that saccharine, but I enjoyed it. Sunday, though, I went to a different hostel, for no other reason than it was five pounds forty on Sunday nights. The place was shit. I mean, it looked nice; it was a converted church, so every room had lovely stained glass, and there was certainly an aesthetic charm you don't get in more "hostel-y" hostels. However, the entire place was drafty and freezing (what with the high-ceilinged churchiness) and my blankets were damp and smelled like mold. Furthermore, I was in a ten-bed room that only had two other people in it: they were a couple, and the first thing I heard when I walked in the door was the unmistakable sound of a (very wet) make-out sesh from under the blankets. God only knows what else they were doing under there, but I am NOT comfortable with that. The place was supposed to have an in-house pub, but it wasn't open on weekends, a bit of information they failed to mention in the description. Anyway, after taking a (cold, completely lacking water pressure) shower In the sketchy-ass basement bathroom down four flights of stairs, I quickly fled the premises and set out in search of food/some sort of diversion. (I ended up not even sleeping in that hostel; I went back to hang out with some new buddies from my old hostel, and they convinced me to just hide out there.)

So, I have reached the conclusion that I love Edinburgh, or at least have very fond feelings for the city. It's compact, so you can walk literally everwhere without any problem, and just feels really safe. I would feel perfectly comfortable walking around the city at 3 in the morning. Definitely ot so much in London. Hell, not even in Charlotte! I think my only regret is that I spent a bit too much time socializing with people (yes! Socializing! Who am I?!) with people from my hostel/the really cute Australian that I met in a pub, and not enough time doing things in the city. I saw almost all of it, at least, just walking, but I didn't do a single tour or even go to the Royal Museum, like you do when you're a tourist.

My ish was that I was out in the city with people who either lived there or who had at least been there for longer than I had, so they had seen everything. I had set aside this morning as my alone time, so I could at least do a tour of the castle or a museum or something, and then I had to go and acquire some weird and almost completely debilitating stomach bug around 4 in the morning. Thus, my entire day until about 1 PM, at least when I wasn't booking it to the toilet, was spent curled in a fetal position, in someone else's bed, no less, as I was now in the hostel illegally, and had no bed of my own. Definitely put a damper on my day...

So now I'm sitting on the train, still feeling like I may at any moment pass out, but luckily the nausea/other super-fun things have subsided. All I want right now is to curl up in my bed with Clone High. I think I'll veiw this trip as a sort of reconnaisance mission for whenever I can go back again. Now I'm somewhat familiar with the city's layout, I know how to get where I want to go, and I have a clearer idea of what I want to do. Also, I know people who live there. Connections. So, all-in-all, I'd call it a fairly successful trip. Except the getting sick part.

My abs are so firm you can grate CHEESE ON THEM!!!

OMG I finally found Clone High online. I have been suffering such withdrawal! I swear to god, this is one of the best nights I've had since I've been here; sitting in my room in sweats, drinking beer, and watching Clone High. I've been going out almost every night, but this is much better. Because I'm extra-lame and a hermit. Apparently.

Oh, also I was about half a football-field's distance away from Colin Firth on Tuesday. I couldn't actually see him, but he was there. Oh, he was there. (Jim Carrey was there as well, along with a number of unrecognizable minor British celebrities, but Colin Firth is most important.)

Hello little boys, little toys

Where did this bruise on my forehead come from? And how the hell did my feet get so dirty? Most importantly, how in god's name am I not hungover?

And if you have five seconds to spare, I'll tell you the story of my life

Had my first experience with London theater tonight. Not too bad, I guess. I saw The Shawshank Redemption, which would not have been my first choice but it was for my London Theatre class. My only problem was that we were supposed to watch as critics, and take notes and whatnot. It turns out, I really don't enjoy plays when I'm criticizing them. If I'm just going to watch, I can usually just disregard any mistakes, unless they're really blatant, or the show is just really bad. Tonight, though, all I could focus on were the things I didn't like. And the show really wasn't bad at all, but apparently Critic Lily is Ms. Negative, and only wants to see the bad in things. Oh dear. I really hope this class isn't going to ruin my ability to enjoy shows. That would be tragic.

Last night I rode the London Eye, and like a genius forgot my camera. Taking pictures is basically the only reason people even go on that thing. Sometimes I want to punch myself. Afterward, though, we did a (school organized) pub crawl on the South Bank. I love when my educational institution provides me with the opportunity to feul my delicious vodka-y habit. When was the last time Hampshire ever organized a tour of Amherst's finest drinking establishments? Never, that's when.

I totally just burnt my arm on the oven, and I'm not happy. My arm is even less happy. I can tell, because it's red and kinda shiny, which for an arm means sadness.

Now my sad arm and I are going to eat a vegetarian "ckicken" sammich, because it's the reason my arm is in the state it is, and thus we must seek revenge.

Everytime you state your case the more I want to punch your face

I booked my Ireland trip, too! November 20th-22nd. I'm pretty excited. Especially since I don't have to pay to stay anywhere...

So, today has been kind of a bust. The NFL had a game here (they have a game every year in Europe, I don't know why) and I was planning to watch it with a friend from my hall, but she ditched me for some boy. So, I found another football fan to watch with, but we don't get the channel here, and she wasn't willing to take the tube to he pub where they did have the game. So, I sat in my room. Then my light bulb burned out, and I only have one weak lamp, so I sat in my room in the dark. It was awesome.

I've been really restless lately. I think it has to do with the fact that I only have class 3 days a week. I get bored. It sounds awful, that I'm bored in LONDON. I'll try to work on that.

Some of the Brits from my hall are going to a pub later, and I think I'll try to infiltrate their little British circle and join them. I need to go somewhere. Plus, I've been hanging out with way too many Americans since I've been here. Well, and Germans. And Danes. Basically everyone BUT the British...

Sammiches, sammiches...

I officially booked a trip to Edinburgh! I'll be there November 13th-16th. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a single hostel that had all 3 nights available, so I'm staying in one Friday and Saturday nights, and a second one Sunday night. I don't mind, though, because the second hostel is only 5 pounds on Sunday nights. Sweet!

I'm now starting plans for my Amsterdam trip. I'm trying to find maybe one or two people to go with me, but I'm worried then it'll turn into some giant group trip, and I hate hate hate traveling in large groups. I might end up just going there by myself, too. I can always meet some friendly hostel-mates.

As for the other trips, Barcelona probs won't happen, and I'm only doing one Ireland trip. because I have a free place to stay in Shannon, and the group going to Dublin involves this one bitch with whom I really don't want to spend anymore time than is necessary, which, as far as I'm concerned, is none at all.

Finally getting over the plague. And by "finally" I mean that was actually one of the shortest plagues ever. It was just very sudden, and very mean. Now I'm just all stuffy, but I can handle that. I feel well enough to drink again, and that's really what's important, right? And by that I of course mean... I feel well enough to go to class...yeah.

It's such a pretty day today, which is still surprising to me. Before I got here everyone I talked to said it rains everyday forever and ever and there's never any other weather. Ever. That's a big lie. I mean, it is gray a lot, and it does sprinkle from time time but we've had a lot of lovely, sunny days, too. So today I think I'll enjoy the weather bu walking a couple miles up to Hampstead Heath, a park which I haven't seen yet but which is supposed to be gorgeous. Perhaps I'll bring a book, too!

Oh, and SAMMICHES SAMMICHES BARELY EVEN HUMAN!

Edit: Just booked Ireland for the weekend after Scotland! Woohoo!

My body is a cage

So, I did something I told myself I was NOT, under any circumstances going to do while in London: I skipped class. At Hamp it's not usually such a horrible offense, because classes meet usually two or three times a week, but classes here only meet once a week, and there are only, like, ten sessions. However, yesterday I woke up with a sore throat, which very rapidly, in the six or so hours that I was on campus, morphed into some horrible lung-hacking, chest-constricting, throat-scratching, head-congesting disease of ickiness and despair. So, in a haze of congestion, sleepiness, and mucous (mmm...) I forgot to set my alarm last night. It's probably for the better, though, that I'm not in class. I'd be That Sick Kid, the one who sits in back and sniffles and crinkles cough drop wrappers all class. No one likes that kid.

So, so far I have TWO trips to Ireland and hopefully one to Barcelona in the works. I wanted to go to Amsterdam, also, but we'll see. Also, Scotland is a must, but it's not as far, so it shouldn't be too difficult.

I definitely just spent the last five hours napping. I don't know if that's considered a ne right nap anymore. Now, I think I really need a shower, since I've been stewing in my own diseased filth for too many hours. I bet I sound really attractive right now.

Sniffle, sniffle.

You're in your head; you're all turned around

I am officially finished with my first week of London classes! True, I only went to three classes this week and dropped one, but still! I feel accomplished! My final schedule, after a bit of shifting, looks like this:

Tuesday: 11-1 Studies in Travel Writing; 2-4 Cognitive Psych
Wednesday: 10-11 Psychobiology and Clinical Neuroscience (seminar); 11:30-1 (lecture)
Thursday: 11-1 London Theatre in Performance

So I have a four-day weekend! For to go a-travelin'! Speaking of, I found a flight to Ireland on RyanAir for a penny. For reals. I mean, their rates change really rapidly, so probably an hour after I saw that it went up a few more pennies, but still. I also have a free place to stay in Ireland, because I recently just reconnected with an old friend from elementary school, who moved there in 5th grade. I told her I was here and she invited me to come visit! Anytime I want! So, guess who's goin' to Ireland! I haven't decided when, exactly, but probably mid-November-ish?

Tomorrow morning I'm leaving for an overnight trip to Wales with the Study Abroad and Exchange Social Programme (they really should learn to spell "program"...). We're going to a Roman amphitheatre, a castle (I LOVE castles!) and, of course, a museum. Also, we'll be near Cardiff, where many a Doctor Who episode has taken place, so I'm sure the entire time I'll be thinking geeky thoughts. At night we're pubbing and clubbing, as per usual.... Apparently on Sunday, fully adorned with helmets and flashlights, we're going down into a mining pit, but I'm going to see if there's a way I can opt out of that one, as giant underground caverns terrify me just a little bit. Especially when said cavern has 90+ people in it.

Suddenly I am both freezing and starving, so I feel compelled to remedy both. Perhaps I'll wrap myself in a sandwich and eat a sweater! (Oh lord I'm such a nerd.)

So much past inside my present

Such a disappointing day! I had what was supposed to be my first class today, Literary Linguistics, and the professor never showed up. The whole class sat in the room for about 45 minutes, in awkward silence because it's the first day and no one knows each other, and then as one we all just got up and left. What's frustrating is that this week is add/drop week, and classes only meet once a week, so this was my only chance to find out if I want to keep the class or not. I think now I'll just drop it out of spite, but there's a chance that, when the prof actually shows up, it could be a really interesting class. I just don't think I want to take a class with an instructor who's too flaky to show up to his own class.

In keeping with the theme of the day, I tried to go to the library for my campus (which, conveniently, is 3 streets away from the actual campus) to print out my reading for my class tomorrow, and none of the printers worked. None. I asked a librarian about it and she said, "oh yeah, we've been having trouble with them for weeks." And no one has bothered to fix this? Buh! I was all excited about being a good, prepared student with my reading already printed, and now I have to be same ol' slacker unprepared Lily. I was trying to get rid of her. (I realize that this is where an actual responsible person would say, "why did you wait until the day before to go to the library?" and to that, I would like to point out that my professor waited until the night before that to even post the reading. So there.) Bother bother.

Oh my god. The doors in my building are SO LOUD. I swear to god, whenever someone even down the hall from me shuts a door it sounds (and feels) like a team of basketball players are all throwing balls at the wall at once (hehe, balls).

The day was not without its accomplishments; I finally bought a plate, a bowl, and, most importantly, a cheese grater. Now I can stop sneaking other people's stuff out of drawers, because apparently borrowing without asking is still stealing.

Well, I finally took some pictures - nothing spectacular, just my room and some things around my neighborhood - but I don't know how to post them on a blog. It's probably something really obvious that I'm just missing because what I do, but still. They're on facebook, but I wanted to post them for silly gooses (yeah, gooses) who got rid of facebook...

Anyway. Hopefully tomorrow's class, which is Studies in Travel Writing, in case you were wondering, will actually happen. I'll let y'all know how it goes.

I finally took a few pictures that don't involve me holding alcohol. I will post them shortly.

Today, I took a walk around the other, arguably more interesting end of our neighborhood, Highgate Village. It's beautiful and very homey, and full of fabulously wealthy people. I know, because every other car was a BMW or a Porsche. I wandered around Highgate Cemetary, where Karl Marx and a number of other people of note are buried. I took a picture with his enormous stone head. On my way back I cut through Waterlow Park, which is extremely pretty and full of tiny British children who say silly things in tiny British accents.

Last night we had a boat party on the Thames for the entire Study Abroad Programme (complete with British spelling), which means I got to get drunk with a bunch of other Americans and some Swedes. I swear to god, every other person is Scadinavian. Which means they're also all seven feet tall and impossibly blond. I have never felt so short or brown.

The boat party was quite nice, though. We started at the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, which are both quite impressive. Like a fool, though, I forgot my camera last night. The drawbacks were the rain, which meant we couldn't easily go out on deck to actually see the city, and the fact that they didn't feed us (who puts a bunch of kids on a boat at dinner time and gives them nothing but booze? Poor decision, Westminster).

I got into my theater class, which made me extremely happy. My schedule now looks like this: Monday: Literary Linguistics 2-4 PM; Tuesday: Stydies in Travel Writing 11-1; Wednesday: Psychobiology and Clinical Neuroscience 10-11 (seminar), 11:30-1 (lecture); Thursady: London Theatre in Performance 10-3. Fridays off!

So, I really want to send you all postcards and what not, but the postal workers are on strike and only work one day a week. I'll still send y'all things, but it will likely take much longer than it should.

Groceries now. Later!

How you gonna tag my style when I am so superior?

Man oh man, do the Brits like a party. Apparently during the first week of school, "freshers' week", everyone goes out and parties every night. Everyone. Every night. It's only Tuesday, and I'm exhausted from Sunday and Monday. Not that I haven't had fun (I have) but I usually require recovery time after a night out (or, I don't go out) so two nights in a row while getting over jet lag/general tiredness and sleep deprivation is draining. I've met some really nice people, though. Getting ridiculously wasted in a foreign city is an excellent way to bond with the other international students, and being a clueless foreigner who doesn't know her way around the city is an equally effective way to bond with Londoners. So all in all, good times!

I am pretty excited for classes to start. Especially since I have no class on Friday! I don't think I have ever not had class on Friday, which I always been a bit bitter about. Mostly, this makes it easier to take weekend trips to various fantastic places, as I am in Europe and can do such things.

This week will be really relaxed, or as much as it can be, considering I'm still getting accustomed to a foreign land. On Friday I have a registration appointment to finalize my schedule, which at the moment consists of the following: Psychobiology and Clinical Neuroscience, Literary Linguistics, Semantics, and Studies in Travel Writing; I'm hoping to change Semantics to one of the London Studies courses, though, Theatre in Performance. It's basically a class dedicated to going out and watching London theater. We'll also get backstage tours, lectures by actors/production staff, and other equally awesome things.

I'm so hungry. I still haven't bought any groceries, because I continually have no cash, and apparently most of Britain won't take my debit card. I've exhausted my snack stash, and now my belly is very sad. But tonight my friend Angela said she'd make me a grilled cheese. So, score!

I finally bought a UK phone, so now my calls aren't, like, a $1.80. Which means, now I can actually make some calls. The drawback is, not having a phone saved me from having to give my number to the random guys that I occasionally coerce into buying me drinks... I guess I can still lie.

Somebody outside my room just used the abbrev "convo" non-ironically. Consider her judged.

Food times! Later, friends!

Delinquent days are here again

My room is fucking awesome. I've got a loft! It's like a whole little balcony looking out over the rest of my room! And my window is enormous, all the way to the ceiling, with a cute little window seat. And I have a sink! In my room! Woo! The whole building is beautiful, actually. It's old, and even though all of the walls and the (amazingly detailed) crown moulding are kind of battered and chipped, it gives it character, instead of making it seem musty and crusty.

The only dilemma is: I don't have any sheets. Or pillows. Or blankets. Or even a towel. So tonight will be fun. I went out this evening in search of a linens store, but I walked for 30 minutes in the direction I had been pointed, fruitless, and decided to turn back when it started to rain. So I suppose I'll have to sleep under all of my clothes tonight, and continue my search tomorrow, which can conveniently factor in to tomorrow's "learn the tube routes" lesson I had planned for myself.

On my way back from my failed expedition, I treated myself to dinner at a Thai restaurant, because... a city is only as good as it's Thai food? I used to hate meals alone if there were other people around me being social, but recently I've decided eating alone, by choice, is rather empowering. That's not to say that I want to eat alone forever, but you know. Also fun was the very first legal bottle of wine I have ever purchased. I have since concluded that I am entirely too exhausted to drink any, but it is still momentous.

Speaking of tired, I am. Night!

I'm leavin' on a jet plane!

Later, buddies! In just a number of hours, I'll be roaming the streets of London! Woo!

I'm holding my heart out but clutching it too

I think I might end it with boy. Fuck.

Anyway. Four days.

Come out of the question with me

It seems my pre-departure anxiety has reached the won't-let-me-sleep stage. That, and my damn cat keeps attacking my feet. Either way, it's 1:30 and, even though I got very little sleep last night, I've been up, tossing and turning. Oh, lordy. Thank goodness for Sleepytime tea. (Tea! See, I'm practicing!)

So, other than the actual putting-stuff-in-suitcase part, I'm just about ready. I finally have my visa, my drugs, a little bit of money (and one last paycheck on the way!) and information about where to go and when. Now I have plenty of time to sit around and fret and run through all the things I might forget and panic because surely I'm missing something... I wonder why I can't sleep.

Now that my hot tea has caused my body temperature to rise to an unbearable level, one which surely will not tolerate blankets or head-hugging pillows or warm kitties, I'm going to try going back to bed. Because that's not destined to fail.

'Night, buddies.

London Calling...

What up, bitches! I'm leaving in one week! Woo! Exclamation point!

I haven't started packing yet, about which I am oddly not as stressed as I should be, but other than that I think I'm pretty ready to go. Except I also have no idea what to do as soon as I get off the plane... where do I go? I'm not even sure where in London, exactly, my house is in. I'll figure it out, though.

I really, really, REALLY wanted to come visit y'all before I leave, but that's obvs not going to be a possibility now. I hope that doesn't mean that everyone will totally forget me. Who am I kidding, I'm unforgettable! I'm Fatty! (Let's hope that name doesn't somehow find it's way to England. It stays withing the Five College (and sometimes Barnard, and my house) Bubble! Though, I don't think those refined Brits would ever refer to anyone in such a crass manner.)

So currently I have no real news to report. I'm just trying to get my shit together in my last week, which involves fighting with many medical personnel to get enough of my happy drugs for the whole trip (apparently I can't just show up at a London "chemist" and demand they give me drugs...), and spending time with The Boy. (I chose the most inconvenient time to find a boy. Especially since I had pleasant visions of snagging myself some hot European boy-meat, and now that's all shot to hell. Fucking feelings, getting in the way...).

So the countdown officially begins - eight days.

I hope things are going swimmingly for you buddies, and I miss you like Wilford Brimley misses cookies.

LOVE!