I guess the word I would use to describe how I feel right now is wistful. I think it was the second grade when I first looked that word up in a dictionary because I had stumbled upon it in a number of books ‘sad, as if longing for something’ and when I thought of the word I thought of a maze with invisible walls. You can always see the prize but the work to reach it is astounding. But let’s not make this an angsty entry.

Going abroad, I need to make some final comments on it, until I return next summer. And believe me, as long as I still have a good Visa I will be returning.

Going to the UK by myself in February has certainly been a learning experience. In fact, that’s what it was more than an job, holiday, or anything else I expected it to be. It was school for me, my remedial classes in life, and I needed them badly. As we can see by the trials, and triumphs.

The first thing, and likely most painful thing I learned is that sometimes the best friends you will ever make in your entire life you’ll meet once and never again. You have to accept this or you’ll go crazy. For all the contact details I’ve accumulated, I’ve only got a fraction of the people I’ve met. And of those I do have most will drift away, even if they are people who I will never make better friends with.

I’ve learned that courage is a rare and valuable virtue, and the valour is something irreplaceable in humankind. And you have to live with as much bravery as you can. You have to be shameless in throwing yourself into life or you lose so much in the experience. I hope I have enough courage to make my life one of greatness.

I’m so jetlagged, I can’t seem to get the rest of this entry out.

Excuses, excuses.

Like Setine’s discovery of my blog, which brought much rejoicing to my shocked and wondering eyes. If that wasn’t a one-hit-wonder type of comment, I say, ‘Hello Setine, of course I remember you, you defined the awesome of my childhood along with the rest of the gang.’ Amber and Crystal may bask in that statement as well.

On to more about Scotland and my new discovery. Cockburn street is where freaky goth/emo/subculture kids hang out, it’s kind of like Queen street, minus the big box stores all crammed into about half the size of hardcoreity. It’s pretty nifty, actually, I spent a lot of money in my mind. No actual money, but with brain money, christ I’ve gone into negative numbers.

But I have come to a number of conclusions about the hardcore sector in most major cities, called (very uncleverly by me) the Black Light districts. First is the Canadian example, that is Queen street, this huge sprawlingly massive street where the weird walk easily amongst the normal. American Eagle is practically across the street from Borderlines, if you see what I mean. Basically, it’s where the brightly coloured people look at the ‘shades’ people and wonder which will go postal. Interestingly enough, the ‘shades’ people are wondering the exact same thing.

Camden Town is London’s ttly (chatspeaked for a reason) hardxcore district. Whenever you go down here you feel like it’s a fasion show, you half expect when the people get to the end of the street, they stop, make a pouty face, and turn around and walk back up the street. Everyone is the complete and perfect stereotype of whatever subculture they partake in. There’s no semi-goths like me, only hardfickingcore ones. In all honesty, like most of London, when you walk down the streets of Camden you generally assume people dislike you for some reason. Possibly because you have an invisible tattoo on the back of your head that says ‘idiot colonial’ that only British people can see. There is no way to remove this tattoo.

Finally, Cockburn street, the street that made me realise what the world would be like if goth was the prodominant dress style, rather than preppy. Let me explain. Walking down this street you have the usual cobbled lanes and shops, the street itself is on a hill, the street is not extrordinary, the people was what got me. A bunch of eyelinered children playing jump rope on the sidewalk, while a few watched. Some oddly aged ones (no I’m not kidding, old goths) sitting on a bench chatting while two black boot clad parents pushed a baby in a carriage up the hill. I thought I was dillusional. Maybe I was.

I went to Waterstones after that little out of body experience and purchased the 2 pound editon of Sherlock Holmes, remembering only after that this was the hometown of the author, I read the first bit in the park before returning to the hostel to blog about how insane Cockburn street was.

To my commenters:

To Setine, of course I remember you (see above) and was delighted to see your comment. We should talk more!

To Amber, of course I am enjoying myself, and I would be beside myself with glee to have the Ravens Fanlisting, I now have the Fanlist for Ravens and The Raven. Thus proving the bird which used to be in the empty cage. Though, now I have to make a layout.

To Kassi, (sorry for the name misspelling! Erk!) You should seriously come back, and don’t worry about the plastered thing, if I wanted to avoid it I would have made an excuse on the phone, seriously. Don’t be embarassed, I’m cool.

To Ange, ANSWER YOUR FUNKING PHONE! *ahem* Of course I am popular with the guys now, I have an accent, and that makes me wicked cool.

To Mah, 153.

To Crystal, always.

But I have so much to write about! My last entry hardly covered everything that has happened. It didn’t really even scrape the surface.

My last week in London (for now, I still have to see the Jack the Ripper exhibit at the Docklands exhibit, as well, I WILL see the Phantom when I get more money) was so full of stuff I’m still reeling from it. It’s amazing how much you still want to do once you realise you’re leaving.

I went out clubbing (I use the term extremely loosely here) with an American girl I met in the hostel named Cassie. We headed to some pub first, where she starts drinking and I peacefully drink my coke. (I swear people who read this must think I’m insane or a complete liar… I assure you, it is the former) So, we invited the Belgian girl from our hostel and she came along later, with, oh yea, six Spanish guys in tow. Well, permit me to correct, five Spanish guys, and one guy from “nowhere” (that’s actually where he told us he was from) but he was twitching seemingly uncontrollably, and kept saying weird things, he left early, Danke Gott.

Initially the main language used by the group was English, which is lovely, because it’s the only one I’m completely fluent in. But then some Dutch guy comes to our table and asks if anyone smokes, Cassie does. So she leaves. Belgian girl lived in Spain for three years, guess what happened next?

=D

Yes, we all started speaking Spanish. Well, they all started speaking Spanish, I started counting the bubbles in my coke. One of the Spanish guys (who I think was probably sweet on me as his hands kept accidentally finding it’s way on my knee or shoulder… Andrew told me laws of seduction lesson one, casual physical contact is key) gave me play-by-play on the conversation ‘Now we’re talking about sports’, and ‘Now we’re talking about the English’ I nearly politely excused myself, but then, I guess Canada came up as the topic of conversation, as I was left all alone, (Cassie is now sitting with the Dutch guys laughing and carrying on) I had to try and decipher broken drunken English as the Spaniards pelted me with questions about North America, then got frustrated because I was talking to fast and speaking ‘too well’ I kept my cool, but when the bar closed and they invited me ‘dancing’ I politely declined, and fled with guy-crushing-on-me and Belgian girl in tow.

It’s funny, they could not believe I had never learned a word of Spanish. I think I got asked a hundred times ‘Never? Not even once?’ ‘No. I’m Canadian they teach us FRENCH. You know, ‘bonsoir’, ‘fromage’, ‘pomme’… Blame the Quebecois.’

The next day I played tour guide in central London for Cassie. It’s amazing how quickly things become unimpressive when you live around them. “There’s buckinghampalacethereswestminsterabbeyandbigbenandtrafalgarsquare yayz’ I feel so spoiled.

So that evening I was supposed to see Mama Mia in the Leicester (Lester, damnit) Square cheap seats with Hong Kong room mate and Belgian Room Mate, but we lost Hong Kong girl and I didn’t feel like spending £20 to see a show I’ve seen in Toronto all by myself. So I went on a Jack the Ripper walk.

Strange days. I met a trainee tour guide while on the Jack walk and so I chatted with him the whole time about who I thought the Ripper was and all of my little theories. He said I should be doing the ripper walk. We went to the Ten Bells after the tour, (a favourite hang out of the victims apparently) and they played the Doors there all night, which felt oddly wonderful. Myself and this guy just sat around and talked Jack and Diana and JFK.

I left the hostel for Milton Keynes and from there hit Edinburgh where I am now. Night before last I met up with Cassie again and her friend from the city, again the loosely termed ‘clubbing’ she was already plaaaaaastered beyond concept, so I sat and sipped my coke and watched real-live sexual tension between the two (British guy has a girlfriend in Wisconsin, but seems to have a crush on Cassie as well) by the end of the evening Cassie was proclaiming that she was going to call BUNAC the next day and get her VISA. Okay.

So other then that, calling agencies and stuff is the next step, I plan to stay in this lovely little hostel (with free Wifi) and temp from there. Ah, bliss and easy stuff.

Last night I went to a Chinese restaurant, it was a bit more expensive than my usual fare but worth it. I came out of the place feeling like a princess. (Back to my weekend hostel which smelt terrible and was right in the middle of the party district so it was loud all night and the blankets looked like they were pulled out of a dumpster)

Regardless, I feel somehow happier.

To my commenters:

Mah, yes, I suppose that is a job suited to my talents.

Amber, Danke lav.

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!

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!

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!

So, what’s new? Well, I applied for the most amazing job ever that I would have been perfect for… but by the time I got to it it was filled beginning the theme known as ‘my luck’. I’ve never considered myself particularly unlucky before, and maybe I’m only unlucky in the UK. Regardless, the bitter optimism is forcing me to be cheerful, I am not going to hate this trip — damnit!

The perfect job was at the bookstore at Westminster Abbey, and the lady I spoke to was incredibly nice, she said some of their hires would be leaving at the end of March. A running theme, I’ll have ten jobs once April rolls around. I’m reeeeally disappointed about missing out, but I’m keeping with my optimistic theme by saying maybe I’ll get a call April second (not April first, I wouldn’t be able to take it if it was April first) and work the rest of my term at Westminster.

To add to my employment luck, I got another few e-mails with ‘the position is filled’ and one e-mail with ‘Please call me!’ I’m thinking ‘Yes, finally someone appreciates my talents!’ Only to find both numbers provided are not in service temporarily. This is just getting hysterical. If I don’t laugh I’m just going to burst into tears, so I’m laughing.

I finally got out to see some of the sights the other night. It was late and I was on the phone with my Pangeous friend and I decided to wander back to Trafalgar Square (Have I mentioned I love that word? Trafalgar, sounds so epic and archaic, I love it!) From there I wandered down to the Parliament buildings and over to Westminster Abbey. It’s amazing seeing the sights at night.

And for the very first time I was glad I didn’t have a camera. (I think I told Ange this on the phone). Last time I was here it was like looking at the sights in a book because it was always through my camera that I saw anything. I never really looked at and admired all the things I was seeing. I mean, holy crow, for those of you who have seen Big Ben and Lord Nelson all lit up at night laa-dee-dah to you. But to those who haven’t, it’s something amazingly breathtaking. There you are standing in front of something so old and so beautiful, Ange and I listenined to the clock strike 9 before we decided to end our chat.

Big Ben gets this brilliant orange glow to it, and all the shadows cast on it emphasize how imposingly and elegant it is, you almost feel guilty looking at it, as though it is very stern and unhappy to be caught awake at such an hour. Elegant, as I’ve probably thought a hundred thousand times is the best way to invision it.

And Lord Nelson in Trafalgar Square seems to just glow in the dark. I want to know how they light him up like that, he’s so high off the ground! Something very imperial about the lions at night too, I’m reminded of some Jim Morrison Lyrics:

Lions in the street and roaming 

Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming 

A beast caged in the heart of a city 

The body of his mother 

Rotting in the summer ground. 

He fled the town. 

He went down South and crossed the border 

Left the chaos and disorder 

Back there over his shoulder.  

One morning he awoke in a green hotel 

With a strange creature groaning beside him. 

Sweat oozed from its shiny skin.  

Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. 

I don’t really know why. Probably the first and last lines only, or a Beast Caged in the Heart of the city… That’s me. However, it’s what I thought to myself as I looked at the huge lions at the feet of Nelson. The Abbey is a bit of a sore spot I’ll describe later.

So, there you go, what I’ve done so far. Actually, while I was typing that sentence a recruitment agensy called me back, they may have a few jobs I can do. Isn’t lovely how forced optimism really works. It looks like a grimace but I assume you, it is a smile. I’ll be doing stuff ‘Similar to COIP’ Smile. It’s a job. Shut up and smile. Maybe until Westminster calls and asks where I’ve been all their life. Anyways, tons of love, I’m sending out post cards tomorrow, so e-mail me your addesses everyone or you won’t get one!

To the commenters of this entry and the last one:

To Crystal, now it’s not just Sweeney and Jack the Ripper I have to fear, it’s Youtube abusers D=

To Amber, isn’t that link awesometastic? It kept me amused for ages!

To Mom, I will, I will I promise I will!

To Ange, I totally should as it would be friggan awesome! Do your essay! Ahahahahah! Call you again soon because that was wicked awesome talking to you <3

Currently I’m living with Mike Powers in Milton Keynes, a town outside of London, it is the most ‘North American’ feeling place I’ve been since I’ve gotten here, the roads even have a semi-logical order! I have been walking around the area a lot and cannot pretend that it really reminds me of home. While Mike was showing me around we did a treetop walk and ‘the best fish and chips in southern England’. Other than that it had been nothing but sleep and resumes/CVs and therefore really boring. I’m going to Charing Cross Road “the book district’ tomorrow so hopefully some jobs pop up by Friday. Mike Britishized my resume it’s amazing how little of what I’m done translates directly into Brit.

So, yes, I really have little to blog about right now, hahah. I’ve only talked to parents, Andrew, and Terri since I’ve gotten here despite my kickass cellphone plan, so if anyone wants me to call them it’s always nice to chat with people without crazy accents.

To my commenters:

To mom, laundry was not bad, in fact, it was decidedly dull. I had been expecting satan’s torment from the way people speak of it. As for the weather, yes, it is more spring than not, and I’ve heard about the snow there and I laugh at you all.

To Mike, thanks so much for stopping by to leave me a comment. I hope Jeff is having a good time on his voyages– though I can’t rub in anyone’s face how much nicer the weather is here because I’m sure he’ll one-up me.

To Harvey (Thomas that is), I am having a good time the museums here are about a hundred times better than any museum that I’ve seen in Canada so far, I’m determined to haunt at least one of them. My next destination will be Liverpool/Manchester I think, hopefully the first vacation from my job! The only intense British food I’ve eaten so far was when I was in Whitby I had some Yorkshire Steak and Ale Pie, it was very good, but I was a bit sick the next day, I’d have it again but be very wary. And Pineapple Fritters, which aren’t too bad, a bit too sweet for me though!

To Harvey (This time to Dana), I do understand laziness and the way it prevents typing as you can see by the distance between this entry and the last one. The library pretty much owned, and, as with everything here, I’ve only scratched the surface. The original Beatles lyrics I was tempted to simply bow to, it only seemed right. As for Across the Universe I actually worked on that at Andy Malcolms (cool, huh?) I would not say no to sexy Jude popping over to sing Strawberry Fields Forever with me. I know I’m your hero, after all I got all 150 Pokemon.

Only a short entry today as I didn’t really do too much. I spent most of the day at the British Library, and you would not believe some of the books that I saw there, you would faint with amazement — I almost did.

Let’s see, I saw one of the original copies of the Magna Carta, the originally hand-written hand-drawn copy of Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, a Bible from the Gutenberg press, along with a hundred other beautifully illuminated religious documents, a letter handwritten by Oscar Wilde, a satirical piece written by Jane Austen at 15, some original Beatles lyrics written on paper scraps and a couple hundred other pieces of amazing literary artifacts I can’t even remember them all. The library was massive and I had a heavy bag so I didn’t do too much wandering, but it’s just one more place I positively NEED to go back to.

I am now at the abode of Mr. Powers, having my own room is making me positively glow with glee, and my own bathroom. Overjoyed cannot begin to describe it really. Happiness, elation, I’m just typing in fragmented words today, probably because I’m so tired. Not tired for any reason mind you, just, tired. Tomorrow I will finally get to do laundry! How I miss clean clothing.

Picnic of leftover chicken wings in Regent’s Park first thing this morning, I felt a bit guilty as the joggers gave me the evil eye junk food temptation sitting on a random bench. Why the heck not? I couldn’t believe that I survived.

To the commenteers:

To Mom, as I said, it got cancelled due to lack of intrest. I was very disappointed I have to admit. I’ve decided my new compromise is I’ll work wherever and volenteer at a museum–the British museum is always looking for them apparently.

To Amber, DANKE! I’m so happy about the acceptance really! It means next year I’m going to be getting edumicated, and not work at Sie (ge)Staples, ja! I will be on AIM soon, I promise >.<

To Crystal, comment more lav, or I’ll set Sweeney on thee!

To Janet, I try to be of service, and thank you for all the congratulating, hopefully I really fufill the second congratulation. Osmosis flowering may be a steady bet, and yes, just being here and lugging stuff all over London is a fulltime job.

To Auntie Mo, thank you for commenting, reading comments feels like my pillar in many ways, I see that people love me even if I’m away on some crazy island.

And to Ange, wherever you are, try to comment again, ja?

I hung out with Kate for most of yesterday, we chatted and had sandwitches. It is truly amazing how meeting up with a friend can make everything about a hundred times better. I mean, I was in a decidedly miserable mood, and even though nothing about the day changed a wave of something terrible, like a frighteningly potent optimism gave my liver a good twist. (Liver or gallbladder the choice was a tough one). I also had a chat with Andrew, may day looked up.

I even made a new friend, and despite spending the day wandering Camden market with her didn’t learn her name until lunch (It was Helen for those curious) Another American. I’ve met hardly any British people here — all Americans! She was very nice, she’s 27, making me feel like I’m the youngest person in the UK right now. Or at least, the most insane nineteen year old ever. Which is where the entry title comes from — I got a Bauhaus shirt in Camden market– I love it. Something small, but going somewhere with a friend, even if you don’t know their name makes everything better. Maybe being lonely has had something to do with my moods.

I keep getting distracted from this entry, I have a good old fashioned Yorkshire cold now, and am sniffling something fierce. Hopefully this entry will make me seem a bit less deranged than the last.

Of course to my commenters (no one knows how much I love comments)

Erica, who are you kidding, I was always the brains you were the… vocal cords, I was the pinnacle or awesome whilst you were my sidekick.

Amber, if I ever find them death will be the least of their worries, it will be the horrible way which they are killed! Mwahahahaha~~! And I needed the black square *sobs* The next chapter is almost finished by the way (You thought I had forgotten I’ll bet!) Obviously I’ve been a bit held up, but I’m near done.

And to Kathy, first of all, thank you very much for how helpful you’ve been to me, your comment was very thoughtful as well, and I difficult one to really reply to. That’s definately a part of it, the exposure, if you aren’t raw, real and very brash about who you think you are then you’ll be lost during this experience, but achieving that level of reality is hard because it really is leaving yourself open. While you won’t get lost you will get hurt — thinking of it like a hand over a candle, if you cover it you can burn your hand, if you don’t it can go out.