A Real Halloween Nightmare

I know there are some of you who literally cannot stand my lack of posting and for this I am sorry. The photo is my proof of being busy. I have been busy, for the most part. I have school work coming up my throat as vomit and out my ears as reverse noise. It is now almost 48 hours since I have slept and I surprisingly needed a glass of wine to bring me back to bed, minus the books and notes. I have been asked to please come (by the lovely Sonso) to a party tomorrow night - a Halloween type thing I guess - and as much work as I want to do, I know I need to also find some sort of balance. I realised yesterday that since I have been in London this time around, I have been to central London once, I believe. It's been 6 weeks.The thing is I have no Halloween-esque accoutremnts, though the dark circles under my eyes surely must make for great costuming.

You would also be pleased to know that the dreaded essay which I wrote about a couple weeks ago has lost. Me 1 vs Essay 0. My lecturer announced in class that my essay was a "joy to read". If she only knew how her comments were a "joy to hear". I am basking in the temporary joy that I have the highest marked essay in the class so far, but I am sure she has read a few better ones by now. I still bask. Give me my small moment, thank you.
It's reading week aka half-term week so I don't have actual classes this week but it is not a break by any stretch of the imagination. It is just the lecturers' way of saying, "we have f@#%ed you all semester, and know you need a week to complete the dozens of assignments we have set you. So there you go."

And that is exactly what I will be doing. I also have scholars' tea tomorrow. That sounds so posh and dry it is mind numbing. Scholars' tea - where a bunch of us who are on scholarship mingle and meet academics. I think of a bunch of nerds in tweed, sipping Earl Grey and eating little sandwiches. Luckily, they will have me as well.

Last week was a tough one for me, hence the lack of posts. I need to be in the right frame of mind to write. I missed a lot of things last week, like Trini picong and my little family, but besides the chronic pain in my shoulder, I am alright. About that - dunno how I can go out when I cannot even lift my right arm without agony. But we will see how it goes. I hope I can make it. For now, I am going back to the books.

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Luxurious Living

lux·u·ry  [luhk-shuh-ree, luhg-zhuh-]
noun, plural -ries, adjective

–noun

1. a material object, service, etc., conducive to sumptuous living, usually a delicacy, elegance, or refinement of living rather than a necessity: Gold cufflinks were a luxury not allowed for in his budget.


2. free or habitual indulgence in or enjoyment of comforts and pleasures in addition to those necessary for a reasonable standard of well-being:
 
Luxury. Being able to come home early - no library, no assignment - sit in the recliner, laptop on social networking sites, and not on academic studyspace; tv on Law and Order, for the first time in weeks; dinner on the mind, and a glass of wine on the desk, without any fear of getting too sleepy to work until the wee hours of the morning.
 
Luxury.
 
This will not last. I have assignments around each and every corner for the next couple months, but I am taking two days official down time. I cannot function at a non-stop pace. It is not normal. One needs to take little breaks and enjoy little pleasures like Law and Order, triple chocolate muffins, a couple glasses of pinot grigio, and being able to sleep in past 8 in the morning.
 
Luxury.
 
It's also being able to finally keep your date, which has been postponed every Saturday for the past 3 weeks. Tomorrow, we go out for Indian food. I do not have such a good track record with British curry but he insists this is great stuff and to be fair, British Airways curry cannot be on any "Must Have" UK tourism list. I am excited to actually go out and have a life tomorrow. This is insane.
 
Oh, and the Rum Festival yesterday was a lot of fun. Somewhat disappointing that the rum reps were all British, except for a couple Trinis at the Angostura booth (thank God...my peeps!!) but the rum drinkers were Caribbean though (shocker!) and  it was great fun, not to mention great rum. I sampled a lot of great rums, most of which I had had before, but note to everyone out there - don't do cachaça shots. Cachaça is best when in caipirinhas. I was a bit tipsy at the end of the night but happier - essay was done, life was nice.
 
Not feeling so well today so the luxury is well needed. A bit tired, a bit achey, a bit cold...no...a lot cold. The weather is really doing its worst now. Got a snuggly soft nightdress for the cold evenings, to go with my fluffy slippers and socks. Gonna put some pasta on the stove and enjoy a night of total nothingness. Total bliss.

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Guest Post Friday!!!

So while I battle with my essay tonight and tomorrow, meet Melissa, my guest blogger today and soon to be a fellow expat. Mel will son be joining me (well, she will be joining her awesome boyfriend, not me personally) in the UK and I know many amazing adventures await her in this brand new chapter. She also has some great food entries. So read her post today and go over to her blog and say hello. Love you all.
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When I was a young girl around the age of 10 or 11, my mother brought home two books for me: Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre and Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. I fell in love with those books and soon moved on to Jane Austen novels. I started dreaming of someday living in England and I’ve believed ever since that that is where I belong. Skip ahead about 15 years and I met a wonderful English guy named Jack. We’ve known each other since May 2008 and have been together for over a year and a half, and we’re very happy. A transatlantic relationship is difficult at times, and separation is never easy. A few months ago we got engaged and soon my dream of living in the United Kingdom will be coming true!

My blog is entitled “An American Girl in Bristol” as this is where Jack currently lives and where we were planning on living together in a flat in the Horfield area of the city. I was supposed to be moving over to Bristol on November, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances got in the way. However, Jack is making plans to move very soon about an hour and a half away to Wales, where his grandmother lives and we’re planning on moving me over there in March. In fact, just a couple months ago his parents also moved there to be closer to her. So I guess this American girl won’t be in Bristol after all. So I’m also in the process of re-designing my blog. Oh well, one must roll with what life throws at you. I honestly never considered Wales much before I met Jack, but I’ve since come to learn that it is a beautiful country. Blogging, working, attending University, and maintaining a long-distance relationship requires a lot of time and effort, but it’s totally worth it.

Of course, moving 3000 miles away from my family and everything I know is scary. The thought of being so far away from my parents worries me at times. I also wonder how much life will be different in another country. I also tend to worry about silly things, like going to the grocery store and finding things that I am familiar with. What kind of detergent should I use? Which brands are the healthiest or the best priced? Where the hell can I find some damn almond milk?! These are things that run through my mind on occasion. I worry about being able to drive on the other side of the road. I worry about finding a good job. I worry about being an American in another country, because I am fully aware of the stigma attached to being an American in a foreign country. At least I won’t be an obnoxious tourist! I’ll be the obnoxious American living next door and asking you annoying questions in the grocery store, like “why can’t I find any english muffins?”

If you love bbq pulled pork as I do, then also check out her recipe here. I also had this for lunch. I am sure Mel's was better. Go say hi.

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Coffee is my friend

The photo below is a print screen I did of a document I typed while typing this entry on the train after class. My seatmate has roving eyes. I have no mercy. I smiled to myself when she looked again and quickly turned away realizing she was busted. I amuse myself.

 

 

 

The temps have dropped drastically. It was summer weather – albeit freak weather for this time of year – on Friday and Sunday. Now it is not even safe to run outside for a quick smoke (if I smoked) without a heavy jacket. The little sweaters are not cutting it anymore. Have to bust out the big guns now. My troubles as a woman who was born and bred in 35 degree Celsius heat have begun.

 

Doing my blog post from the train for a few reasons:

• Tired of looking at frumpy, sour faced Londoners and immigrants – all wretched looking after doing the hamster run, and from the cold weather 
• My seatmates are not easy on the eyes. It saves me from having to accidentally catch a glimpse of them. This is why I hate these forward facing seats.
• Don’t want to waste too much of my precious after-school home time on blogging. The assignment is king! And my energy levels are low so need to maximize whatever time I have with at least 45% sleep reserves on doing actual work.

The cracks are starting to show among the class. People have started skipping classes, the coffee machine is over-subscribed, ciggies are the rage, frowns are ubiquitous, tears are real.

 

One thing about being older and back in school is that I have been through enough crap to laugh about it all. Man stress, work/boss stress, money stress. This essay is like cotton candy. Well, not quite but I think I am coping pretty well. It’s just the sleep deprivation and that has resultant signs and symptoms, namely total annoyance and low tolerance with stupid people, or just with people. I am not a happy person when I am exhausted. Really. Take note.

 

I was at the library at 7.35 this morning and by the time I got to my 1pm class, I was ready to run amok from fatigue. It was as though the lecturer read my mind when she announced a break after just an hour and 20 mins (it’s a 4 hour punishment). The coffee was like a shot of adrenalin straight into my veins. I think I want to marry a coffee magnate or worst case scenario, a barista. We may be poor, but at least there will be coffee.

 

Thinking of overnighting at the library on Friday night just to make my Friday night/Saturday morning deadline for this essay so I can remember what a social life is like this weekend. Willing to make that small sacrifice. . I snickered when the lecturer, after winning me over with the early coffee break then decided to drop the nuclear bomb aka HER essay assignment on us. The joy that filled my heart was unbearable.

 

Typing this on the train made the time fly and I am almost home. Not willing to get some cyber germs from someone else’s wireless connection so will copy and paste before I hit the books.

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Sleep Deprivation, Cultural Distance and Observational Analysis

I got 3 hours sleep last night, trying to do this now infamous essay, and there are two occasions when one should really not try to talk to me

1. When I am hungry
2. When I am sleep deprived

I was really not in the mood for crap today. Frickin' bus took zonks to get to the bus stop this morning and I wondered if the bus driver in his nice warm bus, with his coat and hat thought about me standing there in the biting 6am cold waiting for his late ass. Or whether he thought him being late and thus causing me to miss my train would be fun.

The day went downhill after that.

But after a crap day at school, which included going to a session that was absolutely pointless and which was the reason I was up in the dead of morning on one of the 2 days I have late classes, I was tired. I thus decided I had had enough of the train and watching frumpy, tight lipped white people, so I decided to take the bus with loud, often strangely unique black people.

What an error of judgement. You would think after the bus adventure this morning, I would have learnt my lesson but I was too tired to do all the walking for this train and the bus was the solution to laziness. I also was significantly grossed out by the dude this morning who sneezed a nasty, grimy, phlegm-coated sounding sneeze into his left hand and then grabbed the handlebar with the germy hand. I had had enough.

But the bus comes with its own issues. It takes eons to get to your destination for one and then it's always a crap shoot for a seat. Then the buses in this area get the weirdest people. The Jamaican lady next to me was having a highly animated phone call about her dislike for England. As she wrapped up her call she turns to me...lucky me.

Woman: You ah like Hinglan'? (translation: do you like England?"
Me: (to self: whyyyyyyyy is this woman talking to me??) It's okay.
Woman: Me nah like it. People inna dis country too nasty. Dem too nasty, man. And dem cyah dress.

This elicited a snicker from the rotund woman next to me and a smile from the Jamaican herself as she believed she had found a sisterhood. I agree - some of the people here are beyond frickin' nasty. I cringe every time I have to sit on the train or the bus for fear that I am sitting on dried piss or vomit. As for the fashion, it's often entertaining, let's just put it like that. But I was not prepared to have a bonding session with this mad woman either.

Then after almost an hour on this rahtid bus, it burned my socks when this driver announced that we would have to get off the bus and wait for the bus behind us. In the cold. WTF! I watched as the poor pregnant lady with her pull along with the wheel that constantly fell off, shivered in the 4.55 pm breeze as this wicked man put us off his bus.

And another thing - I am Trini and love my Trini-ness and by way of a good education and self-esteem, my accent is one of those that can easily be recognised and understood. I think if you're coming into another country where your thick accent may not be the most understood, oh gosh....learn to say a couple phrases in an intelligible fashion. So for example, if you are...oh let's say...a bus driver and you have to pelt people off your bus, learn to say it in the Queen's English nah man. I heard the man speaking and at first I did not know what the hell he was saying as he said it in the thickest, duttiest Jamaican accent I had ever heard in my life. This is saying a lot as I have lived in Jamaica myself. I had to ask the lady next to me what the man said. The same goes to you Mr Indian storeman and Mr Pakistani fruit man. Please...practise some phrases. Help a sista. lol.

I have 2 last observations today

1. I passed a place called Zeki's Chicken, and the sign on the window said ALL DAY BREAKFAST. How is this even possible??

2. Is there some kinda law in London that says children must be in a stroller until they marry? I cannot understand why these gigantic children, i.e. children who can run, let alone walk, are still being pushed by tired mothers and fathers in a stroller. The children are ginormous! Can't they walk? What's the deal here?

Woo...needed to get this all off my chest. England play some little foolish nation tonight so that means the house will be filled with loud men, distracting me from my essay. The library started its 24 hour service on Sunday so I guess it will be an even earlier morning for me tomorrow to make up for the noise and revelry or sorrow as the case may be, tonight.

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