Empty Cage

I have not written in ages, mostly because this weekend about a hundred things apeared out of nowhere and tackled me with the fury of a raging… Heelan Coo. (Scottish Joke… go google, but interestingly enough, not wikipedia that.) I have moved rooms twice this weekend.

First of all, for your classic teenage girl (still 19, suckers) rant, I am here to say I quite dislike men. Seriously. I was in the kitchen minding my own sweet business without a care in the world (besides money, but let’s pretend that doesn’t count), and likely whistling off key (Yes, the Kill Bill song!) when some guy comes in. This is not at all uncommon as the kitchen is public, however, I am in the small out of the way kitchen that few people frequent, so, I do what anyone would do in my half-starved situation grunt something that may or may not have resembled ‘Hello’ and carry on my merry little way. He starts conversation and I reply in monosyllables which I am known to do when tired, hungry or both. A few minutes later a couple come in, I’m stuffing my face gracelessly, and so I give my introduction as I’m feeling a bit less half-starved and deranged. Turns out they are from Quebec, and the first guy is from Brazil (and before anyone gets these visions of some tanned football player, no, pasty white geek) the four of us chat, before a fifth, an American joins our little party, thus finishing the ‘other side of the pond’ gang. We talk for ages about whatever strikes our fancy, until about 1 o’clock (in the AM) when the French Canadians go to sleep as they have an early departure. Ryan, our American friend also floats off to get some sleep, and I decide to walk down to the castle that evening, just because it is awe inspiring at night. Brazil asks to come with, I size him up and determine in a fight that I would win, and therefore agree.

Once we get to the castle I show him one of the best views of the city as well as the armed guard, he, as expected gets very… in my face. I give him an elegant shove and just say ‘No thank you.’ and think ‘I will sic Andrew on you SO BAD!’ because even if we aren’t dating Andrew will still crush people for me. I’m sure. So, I storm back to the hostel and he follows me apologizing. No dice thinks I. I know he is leaving the next day, so I lock my doors and sleep easy. The next morning I am due to move downstairs to a six bed all girl’s dorm, which is made of win, because it isn’t so awkward going to sleep and wondering which guy in your room is going to attack you. After my move I talk to dad on the phone for awhile, and decide in due time to go get some groceries because for the past few days I had been eating ‘anything I had in the fridge that was about to expire’ I really am a student eater now. Anyways, who is in my kitchen but Brazil guy, he tries to talk to me, but anyone who knows what it’s like talking to me when I’m feeling obstinate knows that was akin to talking to a brick wall with a frowning face painted upon it. I return to my room, my new room, and at this point have met a few room mates, one answers the door, and guess who it is.

He needs to check out and wants to leave his iPod in here rather than in storage with the rest of his luggage, and then asks beyond the room mate at the door if I can show him where Cowgate is. Knowing Cowgate is a crowded street at the best of times and if he tries anything funny all the hungover Uni kids will jump him I agree. I walk him down to Cowgate and turn to leave and he asks if I’ll stick with him for awhile because he doesn’t know where anything is in the city. Feeling safer during the day and having no real excuse to speak of I miserably agree. By the time we have reached the castle (for the second time and during the day) I have had enough (I have this unnatural thing against guys being gentlemen and asking to hold my coat and paying for me and stuff, which is really stupid…) and make the usual ‘feeling really sick’ excuse and jog back to the hostel and lock myself in my room. Only to remember his iPod is still there. Exuse the language but this was all I could think “Ah, fuck.”

Fortunately, I was saved by my room mate Jill from Ottawa! (Billowing cape not included) Who invited me to go on a ghost walk with her. I quickly agreed and off we went, I unceremoniously dropped the iPod off at reception saying some guy from Brazil had left it in my room. I would never see Brazil Guy again, he seemed so upset when I left him up at the castle part 2 but by that time my Care-O-Metre was down in the negative numbers.

The ghost walk was amazingly awesome though! Well, it was a bit short, but I got to go into the Covenanter’s Prison which was cool. For those who like to have a bit of background, the Covenanters emerged around the time, I think, of Charles II though you probably shouldn’t quote me on that. Essentially what happened was they were not happy about the idea of the King being the head of their religion so they signed a pact with god (I will avoid making atheistic references here about gods and holding pens). The King was none-too-happy as you can imagine, so the covenanters were put into a prison which is credited as the world’s first concentration camp by the Scots. The prison was overseen by the King’s Advocate George Mackenzie — Bloody, or, to be really Scottish about it, Bluidy Mackenzie. Any ways, apparently Mackenzie still haunts the prison, and there have been ‘no fewer than 300 attacks’ says the brochure. I saw no paranormal activity, however I did throughly enjoy seeing the inside of the prison. I’m such a nonbeliever it hurts, I’d love to be able to do more research there and see it during the day. Alas, it is locked to everyone except the tour I was on.

The next day, after being assured the iPod was gone, I was moved back into a mixed dorm where I am right now. (Not something I am happy about) Jill invited me on a free walking tour, it being a bank holiday and having nothing better to do I go with her, the free tour is three hours which is amazing (the one I paid for being 1.5 hours) it gave me a good once over of the main sights of the city. On the tour we met a guy from Toronto who was studying in Paris but in Scotland for the 3 day weekend. After the tour, and wandering the Prince’s Street Gardens, followed by Prince’s Street, then the very same hill where I witnessed my first pagan festival the ‘bad idea’ was borne. We left the hill on the wrong side and came upon Holyrood House (The Queen’s Residence in Scotland) which is very close to Arthur’s Seat. I had to meet someone (Mrs. Ross the great aunt of the Lindsay kids) at 5. At a leisurely pace I imagine walking Arthur’s Seat would have been lovely, but, as I said to my companions who were throwing themselves up the hill ‘This reminds me of Gym Class!’ The view was stunning at the top, but I was too busy staring at my watch in horror.

After gracelessly making our way down the hill and me all but flying back to the hostel to change and get ready to visit Mrs. Ross. That that it mattered. I was pointed in the wrong direction leaving the hostel and pretty much saw all there is to see of South Edinburgh. Dinner with Mrs. Ross was nice, but I felt very uninteresting. ‘Yes, uhm, so, I’m Caitlin, and I’m from Canada. Nice, uhm, country you have here.’ Regardless she lent me a beautiful copy of one of Sartre’s earlier writings which I am salivating over.

So that was my eventful weekend in all of it’s glory. I did not slow down the whole time, I hardly remember my name anymore. Of course, the next question is what I am going to do next. You see, I am now at a crossroads at this trip.

It should be blatantly obvious by now that I have had heaps of trouble finding a job here for whatever reason. Everyone seems to be ignoring me, which makes me pretty much furious, and the money is (as expected) running low. My original return ticket is set for something in the middle of June, I had orginally planned to push that back into July, however, I have a few reasons why it would make sense for me to keep it where it is, and now I’m not quite sure what to do. So far the plan is looking like this, if I get a solid job to fill my next three months until the end of July then I will stay here, if, by the end of the week I don’t have a job I will take every cent that I have fly to somewhere in northern Europe and travel my way down to Italy, have no money left in the bank and start working as soon as I get back. I would also get my G2 and take my grade 12 math credit if I came back.

While about 96% of me wants to stay here and find a way to just never leave this country that I have fallen in love with. (Yes, despite everything I am still not turned off of living here, in fact, if anything it has made me want to live on this batty little island all the more) The mature, adult part of me, which seems to have been birthed quite suddenly and quite recently knows that for practicality’s sake maybe going back to Canada earlier rather than later is a good idea. I have to get ready for school, I have to think about all of the important stuff which is going to be coming up in the next few years, and even if I want to stay here so much it has the potential to drive me completely mad, I have things I have to do at home and I have to keep myself thinking about the future, and if I want to end up here I need to have some sort of way to generate the pounds. The whiny petulant side of me doesn’t like this at all, let me tell you. If I clean out my account, and get back midJune I can probably accumulate maybe 2 thousand dollars, plus getting a loan and a job on campus, I should be able to actually get my act together for school.

Pros and Cons, blah. Grown up, or not. I never want to grow up, but nature is forcing me. We’ll see what happens this week and then I’ll know for sure.

To my commenters:

Amber, done <3 Sorry it took so long Word Press was giving me a rough time. I got Sakaki back, apparently they mixed up my removal or something?

Crystal, it is crazy like that sadly. I feel your heartings from here though.

Mom, it might as well have been a rave. Mrs. Ross was quite nice.

Ange, my Texan friend XD. If you want me to call, say, 8AM my time I wouldn’t have too much of a problem with that, I’m sure you wouldn’t either.

I have attended my first pagan festival. Yes, officially I have been to a pagan festival. And just typing that makes me feel far cooler and more primal than I actually am. I was like a British explorer stumbling upon native Americans, in a kind of entranced horrified awe at the grotesque beauty of the whole thing. I just abused adjectives like no body’s business there. It had almost everything you could want from a pagan festival, people dancing naked, and fire.

From what I could understand from the swiftly moving events there was some sort of war between the people who were painted red and the other colours. And when I say painted red I don’t mean dabbing on the face, I mean full body scarlet. The director’s eye in me found the organic dancing with the very inorganic drumming (they were using modern drums, not ones with real skins) a little abrasive, but only stage geeks would notice, the energy of the event was fantastic. Though I still find huge the crowds disconcerting. I went with a new friend from work, Carrie, and two of her friends.

You could really get washed away in the vibrant motion of the whole thing, and right at the climax it started to rain. Rather than hinder the event it just got all the more impassioned. This was around the point I fled.

Other than a pagan festival, I have been working for a complete asshole the past three days, and yes, I said it. Carrie and I beat around the bush in conversation saying we were sure he was a nice guy, but I say ‘No.’ and no one will ever take that away from me, this is my blog, bitching ahoy. He was a mircomanaging git, and I will never work for a charity again, because apparently working quickly is more important than doing things right. Ugh!

And a quick update on my websites (the briefness of this whole entry being the fact that it is 2AM and I am officially tired) I plan on getting Sakaki Haruto Fanlisting and Midoriko up as soon as possible. Amber has given me the Ravens Fanlisting which should also be up soon. Nayru finally transferred Mrs. Lovett over to me so if you are a fan of that crazy Pie Maker go join. I’m revamping mom’s website because I hated the old one with a fiery passion aaaaaand I’m writing content all over the place and not uploading it so if all my websites seem incomplete and disoriented they probably are.

To my many commenters who make my life so happy:

Emma Dawn, we will talk more on MSN but HOLY SHIT THAT IS THE BEST NEWS EVER!

Val, I put a few pictures on facebook to tantalize the masses, so enjoy, and now I can stalk your blog. Bwahahahahahaha!

Crystal, Eh?

Maureen, I suppose it would do well to scope them out and see if they are as deranged as we are.

Mom, I am resisting human contact. See the resistance.

I had no momentum going with my old notebook so I got a new one.

No momentum in the job/home front so I’m moving.

Scotland here I come.

Well, I haven’t stopped in here in awhile. Internet access has been a pain, so I’m abusing the work internet for a few minutes. A responsible abuse, I can assure you. Thus, the entry may be short, and very sneaky.

Oxford, was there maybe last week or so, it wasn’t too bad, I mostly did (dun dun dun) shopping. So, I can’t tell you about the beautiful sites. Also, incidentally, it was pouring. I did get a copy of Memento and eat pizza though, so it wasn’t a total loss.

So! What else have I been doing? Working! YAY! A charming £9/hour with a 1 braincell/second tax. Angelena’s rant about going to school plays ad nauseum in my head daily. I’m just waiting for my Tell-Tale Heart moment when I shriek to the silent room “I GET IT! SHUT UP!” The office is as silent as a tomb usually, as I liken tapping on keyboards to rattling bones or something equally spooky.

I am allowed to listen to music, but my ears actually hurt from two weeks straight of having ear buds in them. So I’ve gone unplugged today (buy the album) and kind of want to gouge my eyes out. No particular reason, but it might alleviate the boredom.

Some nice things about my job — well, not the job specifically, but they are more work related than not. The nearest Tube (Chyuuuube) Station is St.James’ Park. I work on the short street between the Chyuuube Station and the actual park.

I talk to mom quite a bit because I get so bored at lunch, see example below.

April 1st:

“God, mom, the weather here is bloody TERRIBLE! I have never seen anything so miserable.”

“Tell me about it, at least there’s something in common!”

“APRIL FOOL’S! I’m sitting on the grass in the warm sun in the park surrounded by flowers!!”

Wasn’t that a funny April Fool’s Prank? I thought it was hysterical.

My new pals the Kiwis don’t get it. But then, they’re so far south they frequently get cut off the bottoms of maps.

Ah! I haven’t mentioned my new found knowlage of New Zealand, and love for all things Kiwi! New Zealand is the Canada of the Southern Hemisphere you see. Always getting bullied by stupid Australia!

I learned much about the Kiwis after meeting Clare the Kiwi in the Earl’s Court Hostel, then finding out my fellow bored temping co-worker James is ALSO a Kiwi! We hardly talk for fear of hurting the silence, but when every one else was in a meeting I found the ideal ice breaker.

“Am I the only one who wants to KILL myself?”

“Yea, I’m on Facebook.”

“Fair enough.”

So, he was on Facebook and we had quite the talk about how little work he does. Thus, my rebel-blogging!

I went pub hopping with my Kiwi Pal Clare, and a (quite good looking) Scottish guy named Jamey. Andrew and I are finito (again) and so I am allowed to look at cute guys. I have his phone number so I win. Told me to look him up if I was in Scotland. He’s 22 so there’s no prayer, I’ll just gaze dreamily off into space.

Thank you to my beloved commenters, I’ll reply to them on the next entry. I’m off to Dublin tonight!

Sorry the details of Paris have taken so long!

To all the people who have been to Paris and not been to Pere Lachaise you really did miss the very best part of Paris. Fifteen minutes out of the way was completely worth it. But let me start from the top, shall I? I left for Saturday evening, the bus was packed actually. Amusingly enough, the guys beside me were a group of Canadian backpackers. I talked for a lot of the 10 hour trip with one of them, just about Candianisms and stuff… he kept falling asleep on me and I kept poking him awake, it was rather amusing. As he left he gave me a big west coast hug and said maybe he’d see me in Paris, I said I doubted it, and we parted, I didn’t get his name or anything and so that ended that.

It’s funny how ‘Canadian’ you become when you get over here — I’m hardly an overly enthusiastic nationalist, but I’ve been stopping just shy of singing the national anthem in the street (en anglais et francais!) since being in Europe. My french served me surprisingly well considering how terrible I thought I was. So, after I got to my hostel, I dumped my bags and went straight to Pere Lachaise. It was about 7 o’clock in the morning local time, so there was quite literally no one there. I saw Sarah Bernhardt which was completely unexpected (my grandmother used to compare me to her, so that was very touching), I also saw Chopin (not reeeeally that exciting for me because I’m not a huge classical music buff, but I guess it’s pretty impressive all things considered) Next was Jim, of course, he’s tucked in behind a number of bigger monuments so I had a lot of trouble finding him… however there is a large temporary fence around him, on top of the plot was flowers, cigarettes, questionable looking substances and pictures. The inscription on his headstone is the latin translation of ‘True to his own spirit.’ When I read it I really did hope someone would think to write something like that on my headstone, moreover, I want something like that to be true of me. Jim’s grave, a journey I definitely needed to make.

Oscar Wilde was pretty awesome too, his grave was covered in bright lipstick kisses, mostly from gentlemen I’m sure. I adore Oscar, and the whole visit made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. After I visited him I just toured the cemetery, and it was amazingly stunning, all old and cryptic, but beautiful as well, I felt inspired to write but couldn’t come up with any words once I found my journal. From there I did “the rest of Paris in thirty seconds” The Eiffel Tower, the Arc d’Triomph, and Notre Dame being a majority of my hit list. The poor people were VERY aggressive so I did these places quickly because I wasn’t in the mood for being hassled. The tower wasn’t as epic as I had thought! But the arc was beautiful, and so was Notre Dame, I definitely like English architecture better… ehehe.

I went back to my room and met the incredibly sweet room mate Hallie from Mississippi. Great to talk to, we shared THE BEST CHOCOLATE ON EARTH. 70% Dark Chocolate and Raspberry. I could have bought a case of the stuff. I really liked Hallie, she was in a similar position as I was last year (if I had gone to France, that is) kind of at a loss for the infamous ‘what happens next?’ I’m hardly one to give anyone advice but I like to think I’m at the very least an example of options. Apparently you don’t just have to go to school. We had an Austrian girl in the room too, the three of us when out for drinks with some of Austrian girl’s guy friends, it was fun, the language barrier led to some hysterical conversations and of the seven of us I was the only one who spoke even a word of French. I had a Cappuchino and Hallie had one beer while our Austrian friends got wasted, their English got more and more strained as the evening continued.

The next day I went to Versailles, which, wouldn’t you know it, was closed on Monday. Yes, the whole Palace was completely closed, and under contruction. I did get a chance to wander the grounds without anyone there though. The fountains were off and it was a bit cold, I did the Louvre instead.

I took a lot of pictures of paintings and things. Things like the portrait of the princes in the tower, Joan of Arc and Napoleon of course! Actually, I started laughing like an idiot in front of a painting of the battle of Thermopolae, all of the Spartans are nude, and I thought to myself “And people thought they were under dressed in the movies!” I saw the crowd surrounding the Mona Lisa and maybe caught a glimpse of the tiny little painting it’s self. It’s far less impressive than expected I also saw the Venus de Milo. Though to be honest I would have preferred to visit a more history-centred museum than an art one… plus I couldn’t read any of the museum cards!

The next day I went to Versailles again to actually see Versailles. I took the wrong train, or at least, a train that took me to the wrong Versailles and ended up spending an hour and change on transit to Versailles. However that turned into a real blessing in disguise, as the the incredibly huge line up. I met two Americans studying in Vienna, they were amazingly nice and I spent the evening with them. Versailles, I eventually decided I would have been hard pressed to make leave if there were a fraction of the people there as it stood, I was a bit uncomfortable with the whole thing because of the legions around.

After Versailles my Vienna friends and I wandered Paris, I was actually able to translate the menu! And I could even speak relatively decent french! They wanted to go clubbing afterwards, but we didn’t find anything really, and I had to leave on an 11 o’clock bus back to London, so we parted ways.

The bus ride to London was long (obviously) but I did see some signs off to Vimy, and I got to ride the Ferry! I even saw the white cliffs of Dover! They really are white!

I also started my job, it’s incredibly boring of course, but it’s only for a few weeks, and hopefully I’ll find a new job while I have this one.

I also got two amazing books I’ll review soon. Grotesque and the Black Swan.

I have some abstract stuff I really want to write about right now, but I’m feeling a bit tired… maybe tomorrow!

The first thing you will notice about employment agencies is that absolutely everyone is so painfully cheerful that it’s scary. I mean, the agency is cheerful to impress the client, the people looking for jobs are cheerful to impress the agency and the agencies clients are cheerful because they know that for a small fee they are on top in this particular establishment. Everyone smiles constantly, post-agency-face-pain is likely a common side effect of being in too many of these places. I’m surprised how amazingly few hospitals there are in Oxford Circus to accomodate for this.

Okay, so I’m registered at the agency, the smiling agent would like me to know that with my skill set I should be looking at a job before the end of the week. I hope she didn’t take the twitching eye of smiling discomfort as me being an escaped lunatic. I snuck a look at her notes on me as she left for a glass of water. She wrote me a rave review, fooled another one Daddy! I type 46 words per minute apparently, that is when I’m copying out a passage about American commutes, which I pretty much fell asleep while typing. I also, for those who have never had the pleasure of watching me type, only use two fingers (well, and one on my let hand to press shift). She that’s mighty impressive.

The other day (Friday, I am tempted to say…) Mike and I headed to the V&A (Victoria & Albert) Museum, which is a pretty amazing little museum, it’s stuffed full of interesting, but less famous items. Like, you won’t find the Rosetta Stone, but you will find some amazing Renaissance artefacts, the Medici are not mentioned very much though(!) Are they a Zimmer hyperbole(!)? Regardless, Mike finally learned the true extent of my museum addiction and cut me off before I got too carried away, and showed me Hyde Park (Yes, I did think of Sweeney, so shoot me) From there we headed back to Milton Keynes. I highly reccomend V&A I neglected to mention, it’s a low key museum with a lot of sculptures, and everyone except me seemed to be running through it which was disappointing because there was a lot of cool stuff.

I have finally experienced British rain, this is the first I have been out in the rain since coming here believe it or not. And, of course, the only day I did not pack an umbrella in my purse, which I’m considering upgrading to something bigger once this job thing hopefully pulls through. I can’t fit anything in it.

One thing I am going to start kicking people about is my friends and replying to my entries… all my mom’s friends, and my friend’s parents are replying, but none of my chums seem to be able to find it in their hearts to reply to me. So, loves, expect some nasty e-mails involving ‘Comment on my posts or die<3′ To the parents replying to my blog I thank you… at least I know some people love me.

And to commenter:

Crystal<3 I hope Sweeney and Jack join me, we can dance around in happy hippie circles until the sky goes out. You should come down and visit, by now I feel like a regular Londoner. Love! No, you see the trouble with poet is how do you know it’s deceased — Try the priest!