I got into that Working in Conflict course this weekend! Huzzah! My confirmation email arrived just now with the full schedule and recommended reading, so it's official. And speaking of recommended reading, I can't tell you how excited I am that I have some. It's like college all over again! I'm totally buying a highlighter to commemorate the occasion.
And speaking of good news, I got my passport back from the Home Office, with a shiny big Leave to Remain sticker in it. I'm officially allowed to be here until 30th Sept 2008. Yay for another year in the UK!
School continues to be fun and good (though for some reason I wasn't able to kick my ass into going up in Amy's class yesterday.) Over the past week, we've been learning more approaches to "the language of gestures" - from French white pantomime, to "drawing" the space, to creating landscapes, set, images with the body. As usual, it's a lot of information thrown at us quickly with little time to absorb, which leaves one a bit breathless, but I have no complaints. Titanic isn't going as swimmingly as I'd hope - in fact, the process of the creation is following the true fate of the Titanic a bit closer that is comfortable - but you know what? Meh. They can't all be winners. And at least we're trying. Besides, we have another week yet.
I also have to say that I'm a huge fan of our schedule this year. It's a lot more condensed, meaning that we're usually out of class by 9pm on any given night, and since it's a mere 5min cycle ride home, it's not difficult to be in bed by a decent hour (oh God, listen to me. I'm officially my mother. [No offense, Mom. You know I love you and your motherly advice ;) ] ) Last night we five housemates all arrived home, and after I locked myself in the bathroom for a nice long shower I emerged to find the table set, the wine uncorked, the music playing on our shitty shitty cheap-ass skippy-ass CD player, and food ready to be eaten. We had a lovely communal meal, I did the dishes, and it was good. (And I tried starting on my Dream Life as an Artist assignment. Boy, is it scattered at the moment. I'll tackle it again tonight.)
Also, I'm getting over my cold, my bike is fixed once more (for free!), I'm crazy sore from Acrobatics yesterday, and I'm caught up on Heroes.
Good news all around.
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Monday, 29 October 2007
Homework
One of the classes we have this year is Company Development, which deals with the nitty-gritty of forming and running a theatre company, from health and safety to grant writing to finding rehearsal space. Our first homework assignment is due on Thursday:
- Write freely and openly about your dream life as an artist. Leave nothing out. Where do you want to be? What kind of work do you want to do? With whom do you want to work? Do you want to be married? Have kids? Pets? Your own yacht?
- A few days later, write the five biggest obstacles to the realisation of that dream.
I'll let you know what I come up with. At the moment, this assignment is what's churning up the spaces in my head and heart.
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Sicky McSickerson
Lately, I've been sick. I left class early on Thursday night, and after a two hour nap, figured that if I was too sick for school, I was definitely too sick for work. So I called in sick. And then slept for a record FIFTEEN HOURS.
Guess I needed it.
Guess I needed it.
Thursday, 25 October 2007
The Girl who Cries
I seem to have a knack for cementing my position as "the girl who cries." Last year I managed to turn on the waterworks (however unintentionally) several times in each of my classes, and now that we have a new voice teacher, of course I had to spend the majority of our first class with him in tears. Don't get me wrong - he's an amazing teacher, and it was a great class. But when you go into a class as intimate as voice already feeling a bit shaken and vulnerable, tears are sure to follow.
I felt shaken and vulnerable because a classmate, ostensibly in jest, called me a bitch right before class started.
He was joking, of course. But the context in which it was said made me terrified that I could come across that way. Especially since Uganda, and also by virtue(?) of being a space caretaker for the school, I tend to let the organisational side of me go a bit into overdrive, and I think it's possible that I come across a tad authoritarian sometimes. Instead of suggesting, I sometimes have the tendency to state. I often take more responsibility than is necessary onto my shoulders and stop trusting or expecting others to help, but then if the responsibility stresses me out, it comes back to the people around me. I think sometimes I get so stuck in my own head with figuring things out that, once I think I have, I spell them out for everyone else and completely unintentionally end up treating other people like they're stupid. Which is the last thing I mean to do, but that doesn't mean it couldn't come across that way. And sometimes I forget to listen.
I'm a good person. I know I am, and I know that I try to be. But that doesn't mean I couldn't be better.
I felt shaken and vulnerable because a classmate, ostensibly in jest, called me a bitch right before class started.
He was joking, of course. But the context in which it was said made me terrified that I could come across that way. Especially since Uganda, and also by virtue(?) of being a space caretaker for the school, I tend to let the organisational side of me go a bit into overdrive, and I think it's possible that I come across a tad authoritarian sometimes. Instead of suggesting, I sometimes have the tendency to state. I often take more responsibility than is necessary onto my shoulders and stop trusting or expecting others to help, but then if the responsibility stresses me out, it comes back to the people around me. I think sometimes I get so stuck in my own head with figuring things out that, once I think I have, I spell them out for everyone else and completely unintentionally end up treating other people like they're stupid. Which is the last thing I mean to do, but that doesn't mean it couldn't come across that way. And sometimes I forget to listen.
I'm a good person. I know I am, and I know that I try to be. But that doesn't mean I couldn't be better.
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
ICEBEEEEEEERG! and other whimsies
It feels so good to be back at school. So, so good. As tired and rushed (and a teensy bit hungover) as I was coming into class yesterday, school made it all better. Our first class was with Ilan, which was hands-down the best possible way to start the year. There was a lot of lying down, and quieting down, and then four-person spooning cuddle sessions. So amazing. I love my school.
And then Thomas, which was great fun. We're investigating creating big spaces and epic, action-packed stories while utilising only a very small physical space. For example: for the next two weeks, our creation project is to take a pre-existing movie that occupies a grand scale, and recreate it with six or seven people on a SIX FOOT BY TWO FOOT PLATFORM. All six/seven performers must be on the platform at all times. So how do you occupy a literally cramped space but make it seem as though your someplace enormous, palatial, immensely spacious?
Yesterday we played with different ways of opening different spaces, and how to change between them. What can you do with the transposition of sound? What does the rhythm of each character or space imply? What happens when you have different rhythms on the platform at the same time? There was a lot of experimentation and trying and failing and a lot of laughter. It was such a warm, calm, adventurous space, that room.
I'm also really looking forward to creation this week, simply because my group has decided to do the film Titanic. Yes, the one with Leo and Kate and the terrible, terrible dialogue and the big ship and the bigger iceberg. On a 2x6 platform. Man, are we gonna have fun. (Editorial note: some of you may recall that I don't particularly like the film Titanic. But I'm loving that the ridiculousness of the movie is going to become, in many ways, even more ridiculous by virtue of the fact that we're squeezing it all into a few minutes on a tiny little platform. Awesome.)
I have to say that I'm really looking forward to this year. Monday was pretty overwhelming, what with all the new first years and the new information and the overwhelming-ness of it all, and after our meet-n-greet and info session that day I pretty much fled the scene to wander around quiet corners of central London with Simon for a couple of hours, but now that class has started, it feels like it's exactly what I should be doing. I'm also really pumped about the way they've altered the overall schedule for this year. Last year Commedia was in the second term, they didn't do Great Speeches, and they only had three weeks of clown. This year we do commedia starting next week, we get to do Great Speeches, and best of all, we get a full term of clown. A FULL TERM OF CLOWN. I was so thrilled and overwhelmed when they made that announcement. I seriously think my eyes were the size of small planets. Be still my heart. I'll try to not to get ahead of myself, though - we still have two terms before that!
So now it seems, my dear friends and readers, that we're entering into yet another blogging phase where all you'll hear about is school. The good news is that I get the sense that the work this year is far less esoteric, far more theatrical, which hopefully will mean it's more easily translated into normal-person-speak (as opposed to theatre-talk). Regardless, I'll try and be better about blogging this year than last, though we'll see what happens. The best laid plans...
A few more normal-life anecdotes, though, before I'm forever and gloriously lost in the black hole of the black box:
Last Saturday I ended up working for the nightclub after the comedy club until 2am and made bank. As a result, I'm trying to treat myself to a weekend-long course in Peacework/Working in Conflict. I've sent in my application, and hopefully I'll hear from them on Friday, Monday at the latest.
Also on Saturday, the nice man at the bike shop who keeps giving me discounts serviced my bike for free and has promised to replace my bottom bracket, also for free, on Saturday. I'm still not going out for a drink with him, though.
My debit card mysteriously stopped working yesterday, despite a healthy bank account balance. Apparently the bank decided to issue me a new and improved one weeks ago and didn't tell me about it. Now I have to make my way to Portobello Road on my OLD side of town to pick it up. Grumble, grumble.
When I woke up this morning, my lungs hurt. Out of nowhere, I seem to have developed a nasty cough. I'm tossing back orange juice and water in an attempt to counteract the plague.
Simon is well on his way to being an honourary LISPAn. He's met nearly all my classmates now, and some of them even ask after him these days. I'm spreading the gospel of the fantabulousness of Simon, and it is good.
Purple is the new purple.
That is all.
And then Thomas, which was great fun. We're investigating creating big spaces and epic, action-packed stories while utilising only a very small physical space. For example: for the next two weeks, our creation project is to take a pre-existing movie that occupies a grand scale, and recreate it with six or seven people on a SIX FOOT BY TWO FOOT PLATFORM. All six/seven performers must be on the platform at all times. So how do you occupy a literally cramped space but make it seem as though your someplace enormous, palatial, immensely spacious?
Yesterday we played with different ways of opening different spaces, and how to change between them. What can you do with the transposition of sound? What does the rhythm of each character or space imply? What happens when you have different rhythms on the platform at the same time? There was a lot of experimentation and trying and failing and a lot of laughter. It was such a warm, calm, adventurous space, that room.
I'm also really looking forward to creation this week, simply because my group has decided to do the film Titanic. Yes, the one with Leo and Kate and the terrible, terrible dialogue and the big ship and the bigger iceberg. On a 2x6 platform. Man, are we gonna have fun. (Editorial note: some of you may recall that I don't particularly like the film Titanic. But I'm loving that the ridiculousness of the movie is going to become, in many ways, even more ridiculous by virtue of the fact that we're squeezing it all into a few minutes on a tiny little platform. Awesome.)
I have to say that I'm really looking forward to this year. Monday was pretty overwhelming, what with all the new first years and the new information and the overwhelming-ness of it all, and after our meet-n-greet and info session that day I pretty much fled the scene to wander around quiet corners of central London with Simon for a couple of hours, but now that class has started, it feels like it's exactly what I should be doing. I'm also really pumped about the way they've altered the overall schedule for this year. Last year Commedia was in the second term, they didn't do Great Speeches, and they only had three weeks of clown. This year we do commedia starting next week, we get to do Great Speeches, and best of all, we get a full term of clown. A FULL TERM OF CLOWN. I was so thrilled and overwhelmed when they made that announcement. I seriously think my eyes were the size of small planets. Be still my heart. I'll try to not to get ahead of myself, though - we still have two terms before that!
So now it seems, my dear friends and readers, that we're entering into yet another blogging phase where all you'll hear about is school. The good news is that I get the sense that the work this year is far less esoteric, far more theatrical, which hopefully will mean it's more easily translated into normal-person-speak (as opposed to theatre-talk). Regardless, I'll try and be better about blogging this year than last, though we'll see what happens. The best laid plans...
A few more normal-life anecdotes, though, before I'm forever and gloriously lost in the black hole of the black box:
Last Saturday I ended up working for the nightclub after the comedy club until 2am and made bank. As a result, I'm trying to treat myself to a weekend-long course in Peacework/Working in Conflict. I've sent in my application, and hopefully I'll hear from them on Friday, Monday at the latest.
Also on Saturday, the nice man at the bike shop who keeps giving me discounts serviced my bike for free and has promised to replace my bottom bracket, also for free, on Saturday. I'm still not going out for a drink with him, though.
My debit card mysteriously stopped working yesterday, despite a healthy bank account balance. Apparently the bank decided to issue me a new and improved one weeks ago and didn't tell me about it. Now I have to make my way to Portobello Road on my OLD side of town to pick it up. Grumble, grumble.
When I woke up this morning, my lungs hurt. Out of nowhere, I seem to have developed a nasty cough. I'm tossing back orange juice and water in an attempt to counteract the plague.
Simon is well on his way to being an honourary LISPAn. He's met nearly all my classmates now, and some of them even ask after him these days. I'm spreading the gospel of the fantabulousness of Simon, and it is good.
Purple is the new purple.
That is all.
Tuesday, 23 October 2007
The Schedule
First term:
Commedia
The Epic (melodrama)
Second term:
The tragic chorus
Grotesque
Great Speeches
Butoh
Third term:
Clown and the comic world
Fourth term:
Final projects
Commedia
The Epic (melodrama)
Second term:
The tragic chorus
Grotesque
Great Speeches
Butoh
Third term:
Clown and the comic world
Fourth term:
Final projects
Monday, 22 October 2007
First day of School
It's like kindergarten all over again. I picked out a special outfit. I "treated myself to a coffee" (like I do every day) on the way into work. I packed makeup that I fully intend to apply before I get to school. I'm even (gasp!) wearing heels! (Actually, that's a lie. I have a pair of heels in my bag that I'll throw on my feet approximately one block from school.) I've got stomach flutters of nerves and excitement, exacerbated by caffeine on an empty stomach. I'm thrilled and a more than a little terrified.
Come to think of it, this is sounding less like the first day of kindergarten and more like a first date.
Which isn't necessarily a stretch, really. I think I may have mentioned this before, but I find the work that we do in this school requires as much of you as falling in love. It requires trust, and faith, and openess, and vulnerability, and the willingness to throw yourself off a cliff, pick your bruised and bloody self up off the floor, and then to do it again.
And again.
And again.
Oh man, I am so excited.
Come to think of it, this is sounding less like the first day of kindergarten and more like a first date.
Which isn't necessarily a stretch, really. I think I may have mentioned this before, but I find the work that we do in this school requires as much of you as falling in love. It requires trust, and faith, and openess, and vulnerability, and the willingness to throw yourself off a cliff, pick your bruised and bloody self up off the floor, and then to do it again.
And again.
And again.
Oh man, I am so excited.
Friday, 19 October 2007
Things I may not have mentioned
I seem to have managed to get myself addicted to coffee again. Rarely does a day go by lately that I don't find some way to get my hot little hands around a hot little mocha. Mmmm, mocha.
Carrie and I are rockstars. We have three songs in our repetoire at the moment, all self-penned and all brilliant. Starting from the most recent, with a sampling of lyrics:
"Decision Time" (So this is it/Decision Time/Do I go home and drink some wine/Alooooooone)
"We Are The Warriors" (We are the warriors/we are the warriors/we are the warriors of moving other people's shit [bum bum bum])
"Bribery Ballad for my Brain", or "If You Don't Explode Today" (If you don't explode today/I'll give you a dollar/It's not all that much/Less than 50p/But I'll give you a dollar) (This song has several verses, wherein the brain is offered a dollar, a bike, the singer's heart, and then finally all three to compel it not to explode. This song isn't as catchy as the others, but it's definitely the best one.)
Speaking of rockstars, Carrie and I also decided that if I form a band, it sound be called Isabel and the Decibels. Isa and the Decibels? Isa and the Deci-Belles? Something like that.
I can't remember the last time I wore my contacts.
A fun new bored-at-work activity I've discovered lately is blog hunting. I go on google, enter a bunch of random words and "blog", and then hope that it comes up with something interesting. As a result, I've recently been up wading through the archives of a really fun, well-written blog by a new mother and British ex-pat living in California named Julia. Blogs are great. Go blogs! I do wish that more of my friends had them, though... (hint hint)
Today is my last eight hour day at this job! Hooraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
I saw the new space for the Advanced Course last night, and I love it. It's this huge blackbox with a huge foyer/student lounge area, and a kitchen, and extra rehearsal space. It's kinda gritty and all more or less two big rooms with not much separation, but I love it. And since they'll be knocking it down or renovating it in August, we can paint the student lounge crazy colours or do whatever we want to it! I'm so excited!!! It's going to be such a great artsy home for such great artsy people. I'm so pleased.
And the adjoining bar is nice, too.
I'm getting really excited for school to start on Monday. Maybe it was seeing the new space and talking to Kelley and Patrick more, but regardless, I'm pretty pumped. Really pumped. It's going to be so great to be back in the swing of things. Huzzah!
(Reading over this entry, I notice that it's episodic, random, and a bit unfocused with more than its share of exclamations and exclamation points. I also started out talking about my love of coffee. Coincidence?)
Carrie and I are rockstars. We have three songs in our repetoire at the moment, all self-penned and all brilliant. Starting from the most recent, with a sampling of lyrics:
"Decision Time" (So this is it/Decision Time/Do I go home and drink some wine/Alooooooone)
"We Are The Warriors" (We are the warriors/we are the warriors/we are the warriors of moving other people's shit [bum bum bum])
"Bribery Ballad for my Brain", or "If You Don't Explode Today" (If you don't explode today/I'll give you a dollar/It's not all that much/Less than 50p/But I'll give you a dollar) (This song has several verses, wherein the brain is offered a dollar, a bike, the singer's heart, and then finally all three to compel it not to explode. This song isn't as catchy as the others, but it's definitely the best one.)
Speaking of rockstars, Carrie and I also decided that if I form a band, it sound be called Isabel and the Decibels. Isa and the Decibels? Isa and the Deci-Belles? Something like that.
I can't remember the last time I wore my contacts.
A fun new bored-at-work activity I've discovered lately is blog hunting. I go on google, enter a bunch of random words and "blog", and then hope that it comes up with something interesting. As a result, I've recently been up wading through the archives of a really fun, well-written blog by a new mother and British ex-pat living in California named Julia. Blogs are great. Go blogs! I do wish that more of my friends had them, though... (hint hint)
Today is my last eight hour day at this job! Hooraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
I saw the new space for the Advanced Course last night, and I love it. It's this huge blackbox with a huge foyer/student lounge area, and a kitchen, and extra rehearsal space. It's kinda gritty and all more or less two big rooms with not much separation, but I love it. And since they'll be knocking it down or renovating it in August, we can paint the student lounge crazy colours or do whatever we want to it! I'm so excited!!! It's going to be such a great artsy home for such great artsy people. I'm so pleased.
And the adjoining bar is nice, too.
I'm getting really excited for school to start on Monday. Maybe it was seeing the new space and talking to Kelley and Patrick more, but regardless, I'm pretty pumped. Really pumped. It's going to be so great to be back in the swing of things. Huzzah!
(Reading over this entry, I notice that it's episodic, random, and a bit unfocused with more than its share of exclamations and exclamation points. I also started out talking about my love of coffee. Coincidence?)
Thursday, 18 October 2007
Talk about myself? Really? Do I have to?
Well over a year ago, my friend Emily tagged me, and well over a month ago I figured out what that meant. Basically, I write six unusual things about myself, and then tag six people to do the same. Everybody ready? All buckled in? Then heeeeeeere we go!
1. I love olives. This in and of itself is not so unusual. What is unusual is that this love has manifested itself in a tradition wherein every Christmas morning I receive a can of black olives in my stocking. It's pretty much my favorite thing. I think there may have even been one year when "Santa" forgot and Dad ended up driving me all over town in hopes of finding a convenience store with canned black olives that was still open (don't worry, we found one.)
2. I name my cars/bikes/personally owned modes of transport. After Shakespearean heroines. My first car was Trudi (short for Gertrude). My second car was a guy when I bought her, so I named her Rosalind (Roz) for the cross-dressing heroine in As You Like It. My bike, as you may remember, is Bianca, and here's why: it can be shortened to "B", for Bike; she's white; and I got her used, so she's been ridden a couple of times. (The reason this is clever is because she's named after the Bianca in Othello who, as you may know, is a whore. Oh, the cleverness of me.)
3. There are certain things I can only do with the left side of my face (winking, sneering, squinching my mouth over to the side). This doesn't mean I don't try to do them with my right - it just means I end up looking reeeeeally silly. For serious. Ask Gemma.
4. I eat frozen peas as a snack.
5. When I was about six, my dad took me to the Yale Repertory to see their production of Much Ado About Nothing. Right about the time that Benedick was overhearing Claudio and Don Pedro with shaving cream all over his face, I decided I wanted to be an actor.
6. Top three dream jobs: actor, member of internationally touring socially progressive collaborative theatre ensemble, international diplomat/socialite. Not necessarily in that order.
And to do the same exercise, I hereby tag the following:
1. Lindsay W
2. Kevin Obsatz (whether you want to do this in written or video format I leave to you)
3. Katy Kessler
4. Matthew Walsh
5. Chris Kelly
6. Tucker Nelson
Ready? .... Seeeet .... GO!
1. I love olives. This in and of itself is not so unusual. What is unusual is that this love has manifested itself in a tradition wherein every Christmas morning I receive a can of black olives in my stocking. It's pretty much my favorite thing. I think there may have even been one year when "Santa" forgot and Dad ended up driving me all over town in hopes of finding a convenience store with canned black olives that was still open (don't worry, we found one.)
2. I name my cars/bikes/personally owned modes of transport. After Shakespearean heroines. My first car was Trudi (short for Gertrude). My second car was a guy when I bought her, so I named her Rosalind (Roz) for the cross-dressing heroine in As You Like It. My bike, as you may remember, is Bianca, and here's why: it can be shortened to "B", for Bike; she's white; and I got her used, so she's been ridden a couple of times. (The reason this is clever is because she's named after the Bianca in Othello who, as you may know, is a whore. Oh, the cleverness of me.)
3. There are certain things I can only do with the left side of my face (winking, sneering, squinching my mouth over to the side). This doesn't mean I don't try to do them with my right - it just means I end up looking reeeeeally silly. For serious. Ask Gemma.
4. I eat frozen peas as a snack.
5. When I was about six, my dad took me to the Yale Repertory to see their production of Much Ado About Nothing. Right about the time that Benedick was overhearing Claudio and Don Pedro with shaving cream all over his face, I decided I wanted to be an actor.
6. Top three dream jobs: actor, member of internationally touring socially progressive collaborative theatre ensemble, international diplomat/socialite. Not necessarily in that order.
And to do the same exercise, I hereby tag the following:
1. Lindsay W
2. Kevin Obsatz (whether you want to do this in written or video format I leave to you)
3. Katy Kessler
4. Matthew Walsh
5. Chris Kelly
6. Tucker Nelson
Ready? .... Seeeet .... GO!
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
Grumble, grumble, yay!, meh?
Yesterday, as usual, I checked The Onion for any new, rib-tickling news. The headline for the day was "It Only Tuesday", which made me both grin and sigh. Indeed, this week has been a-draggin'. As a result of being more tired at the end of the weekend than when the weekend began, I've been making an effort to do pretty much nothing outside of work, eat, sleep, and watch Heroes (we have internet! huzzah!). Why does this make the time go so slowly? Why am I feeling so apathetic? Why, though I am finally marginally rested, does it still take considerable effort to peel myself out of bed and convince myself to cycle into work in the morning?
I'm guessing the answer to a lot of these questions lies in the fact that I'm getting really tired of my job. I've never loved my job, but I've never hated it either, and though "hate" is far too strong a word for the strong disgruntlement I'm feeling these days, my feelings definitely lie on the exasperated dislike end of the spectrum. The commute doesn't help. The fact that my workday lasts well over ten hours as a result of 2.5 hrs cycling time makes the days a little more draining, to be sure.
The good news is school is starting up again next week, which means I'll only be working 20hrs/wk here henceforward. The bad news is, I'm a teensy bit concerned that with the aforementioned 2.5hrs of cycling on a daily basis, plus work, plus school, I'm going to burn myself out in record time. Thing is, I can't afford to quit my job. Like, really can't afford. I owe LISPA £4,025 for this year's tuition, my monthly rent is £260 (which is cheap! but still), and London is damn expensive, so factor in at least another £200 a month for bills, food, transport, and incidentals - possibly more. With my £700-per-month-after-taxes paychecks, I'm hoping I can squeak by, but keep in mind I also need to quit my job by fourth term when we'll be in rehearsals 12hrs a day and I won't have time or energy for anything else. Bleagh. Whatever, it'll work out. I don't wanna think about it anymore.
Other things I don't want to think about: the fact that I still don't have my visa for next year. I sent in the application in late September, and last week got a letter from them saying they needed more documentation. Which was fine - I had all the papers they needed - BUT they had sent the letter to me on the 4th (my birthday, the day the Royal Mail oh so conveniently decided to go on strike for a week), and I didn't receive it til the 12th. A Friday. Which meant I didn't get it back in the mail to them til the 15th. 16 days before my current visa expires. I'm not thinking about it, I'm just letting it go out into the ether, as it is, after all, beyond my control at this point whether they approve my leave to remain at all/in time or not. But you can see how it makes me a little nervous. A lot nervous. If I were to be thinking about it. Which I'm not.
And since we're talking about frustrations anyway, how about another? I was biking home from work last night, when I heard funny creaking noises coming from my dear Bianca (told you I'd named her). Luckily I knew a cycle shop more or less on my way home, so I stopped by and dropped her off for a look-over. After coming back after half an hour or so, I was informed by the very kind gentleman mechanic that my bottom bracket was loose. (What is it about me and bikes with f-ed up bottom brackets?!) Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but it turns out that my bike is an old model whose bottom bracket requires loads of labour to tighten or replace, and they don't even have a replacement at that bike shop anyway. Labour to tighten he approximated at about £70-£80 - almost as much as I paid for the bike to start out with. Luckily, he said it's still safe and rideable for the time being - he's just not sure how much longer she'll last.
Now, as frustrating as this news was, it wasn't earth-shattering. I've only had this bike for a month, but I've ridden it nearly every day for that month, often for upwards of 20 miles, and it was used to begin with. My potential saving grace was the fact that when I bought Bianca, I was assured I could get a month's free servicing from the store I bought her from. When I got home, I checked the receipt: dated the 15th September. Damn.
So I'm opening the forum to you, dear readers. It looks like I'm going to have to get another bike, but here are the principal questions: new or used? and for how much? I think I can manage up to £100 - the bad news is that new bikes tend to start at £200. Do I go back to the same place? Buy one on the street for cheap, but which could potentially be a piece of shiny crap (and also, more than likely, stolen property?) Part of me is hoping that I can go back to Recycling (where I first got Bianca) and if they're not able to fix her for free or close to it, see if I can trade her in and pay £50 more or something for a much nicer bike. Because honestly, why didn't I see this coming? When you're biking well over 100miles a week, something's gonna give.
On a more pleasant note, the bike mechanic at Brick Lane Bikes was super nice and very helpful and said he'd be happy to answer any questions about bikes anytime. I'm thinking about asking him if I can be really annoying and look over his shoulder while he's fixing bikes so I can figure out how the hell they work and what to watch out for. How cool would it be to be a bike mechanic's apprentice? With all that free time I have, I mean.
Let's see, what else? Last week was actually really nice. Busy and somewhat exhausting, but nice. I managed to get together with some people very dear to my heart that I hadn't seen in awhile (namely Niamh on Wednesday and Simon on Thursday), and Friday night Carrie and I went to see Ratatouille!!!!! Which was amazing. I totally loved it. And I thought of Dad, because we usually see animated films together, and I saw it on his birthday.
Saturday morning I went to volunteer at a recruitment fair and worked at the SPW stand, talking about my experience in Uganda and sharing info. It reminded me how much I want to do something like that again. I visited some other booths as well, and got all wistful and excited about different possibilities. I might take some weekend courses in peace work. How cool would that be? Then went to meet up with Erin!!! who's back!!! Hooray!!! and had a lovely couple of hours with her before my bosses from the comedy club called and said they needed me early to set up both locations because someone had called in sick.
I then had an even worse night working than I did last week.
Luckily, it sounds like after this Saturday, they're not going to need me to work that location all my myself anymore. Thank God.
Sunday was great - a picnic out on the Hackney Marsh with friends both old and new from school, and then some long conversations with some very dear friends. The late bedtime was worth it. Oh, and I learned how to make hummous from scratch, which is always exciting.
And this week? As I mentioned, not much. It's so strange to think that next week I'll be back in class. I'm excited about it, but it doesn't seem real. Also strange is the fact that I'm really not sure what to expect; I get the sense that the work we do this year is completely different from the things we explored last time. I'm excited for the adventure, I guess, but mostly I just don't know what to expect.
I'm guessing the answer to a lot of these questions lies in the fact that I'm getting really tired of my job. I've never loved my job, but I've never hated it either, and though "hate" is far too strong a word for the strong disgruntlement I'm feeling these days, my feelings definitely lie on the exasperated dislike end of the spectrum. The commute doesn't help. The fact that my workday lasts well over ten hours as a result of 2.5 hrs cycling time makes the days a little more draining, to be sure.
The good news is school is starting up again next week, which means I'll only be working 20hrs/wk here henceforward. The bad news is, I'm a teensy bit concerned that with the aforementioned 2.5hrs of cycling on a daily basis, plus work, plus school, I'm going to burn myself out in record time. Thing is, I can't afford to quit my job. Like, really can't afford. I owe LISPA £4,025 for this year's tuition, my monthly rent is £260 (which is cheap! but still), and London is damn expensive, so factor in at least another £200 a month for bills, food, transport, and incidentals - possibly more. With my £700-per-month-after-taxes paychecks, I'm hoping I can squeak by, but keep in mind I also need to quit my job by fourth term when we'll be in rehearsals 12hrs a day and I won't have time or energy for anything else. Bleagh. Whatever, it'll work out. I don't wanna think about it anymore.
Other things I don't want to think about: the fact that I still don't have my visa for next year. I sent in the application in late September, and last week got a letter from them saying they needed more documentation. Which was fine - I had all the papers they needed - BUT they had sent the letter to me on the 4th (my birthday, the day the Royal Mail oh so conveniently decided to go on strike for a week), and I didn't receive it til the 12th. A Friday. Which meant I didn't get it back in the mail to them til the 15th. 16 days before my current visa expires. I'm not thinking about it, I'm just letting it go out into the ether, as it is, after all, beyond my control at this point whether they approve my leave to remain at all/in time or not. But you can see how it makes me a little nervous. A lot nervous. If I were to be thinking about it. Which I'm not.
And since we're talking about frustrations anyway, how about another? I was biking home from work last night, when I heard funny creaking noises coming from my dear Bianca (told you I'd named her). Luckily I knew a cycle shop more or less on my way home, so I stopped by and dropped her off for a look-over. After coming back after half an hour or so, I was informed by the very kind gentleman mechanic that my bottom bracket was loose. (What is it about me and bikes with f-ed up bottom brackets?!) Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but it turns out that my bike is an old model whose bottom bracket requires loads of labour to tighten or replace, and they don't even have a replacement at that bike shop anyway. Labour to tighten he approximated at about £70-£80 - almost as much as I paid for the bike to start out with. Luckily, he said it's still safe and rideable for the time being - he's just not sure how much longer she'll last.
Now, as frustrating as this news was, it wasn't earth-shattering. I've only had this bike for a month, but I've ridden it nearly every day for that month, often for upwards of 20 miles, and it was used to begin with. My potential saving grace was the fact that when I bought Bianca, I was assured I could get a month's free servicing from the store I bought her from. When I got home, I checked the receipt: dated the 15th September. Damn.
So I'm opening the forum to you, dear readers. It looks like I'm going to have to get another bike, but here are the principal questions: new or used? and for how much? I think I can manage up to £100 - the bad news is that new bikes tend to start at £200. Do I go back to the same place? Buy one on the street for cheap, but which could potentially be a piece of shiny crap (and also, more than likely, stolen property?) Part of me is hoping that I can go back to Recycling (where I first got Bianca) and if they're not able to fix her for free or close to it, see if I can trade her in and pay £50 more or something for a much nicer bike. Because honestly, why didn't I see this coming? When you're biking well over 100miles a week, something's gonna give.
On a more pleasant note, the bike mechanic at Brick Lane Bikes was super nice and very helpful and said he'd be happy to answer any questions about bikes anytime. I'm thinking about asking him if I can be really annoying and look over his shoulder while he's fixing bikes so I can figure out how the hell they work and what to watch out for. How cool would it be to be a bike mechanic's apprentice? With all that free time I have, I mean.
Let's see, what else? Last week was actually really nice. Busy and somewhat exhausting, but nice. I managed to get together with some people very dear to my heart that I hadn't seen in awhile (namely Niamh on Wednesday and Simon on Thursday), and Friday night Carrie and I went to see Ratatouille!!!!! Which was amazing. I totally loved it. And I thought of Dad, because we usually see animated films together, and I saw it on his birthday.
Saturday morning I went to volunteer at a recruitment fair and worked at the SPW stand, talking about my experience in Uganda and sharing info. It reminded me how much I want to do something like that again. I visited some other booths as well, and got all wistful and excited about different possibilities. I might take some weekend courses in peace work. How cool would that be? Then went to meet up with Erin!!! who's back!!! Hooray!!! and had a lovely couple of hours with her before my bosses from the comedy club called and said they needed me early to set up both locations because someone had called in sick.
I then had an even worse night working than I did last week.
Luckily, it sounds like after this Saturday, they're not going to need me to work that location all my myself anymore. Thank God.
Sunday was great - a picnic out on the Hackney Marsh with friends both old and new from school, and then some long conversations with some very dear friends. The late bedtime was worth it. Oh, and I learned how to make hummous from scratch, which is always exciting.
And this week? As I mentioned, not much. It's so strange to think that next week I'll be back in class. I'm excited about it, but it doesn't seem real. Also strange is the fact that I'm really not sure what to expect; I get the sense that the work we do this year is completely different from the things we explored last time. I'm excited for the adventure, I guess, but mostly I just don't know what to expect.
Monday, 15 October 2007
Eastern Observations
Hackney is the greenest Borough in London, I've been told, and it seems every few days I stumble upon a new park or open space. Yesterday Rebecca, Jed, and Maria hosted a picnic on the Marsh right by their home; every day I cycle through three parks on my way to work, two of which are in Hackney; and I've recently found another small park within five minutes of my house. The leaves are beginning to turn, and the weather over the past few days has been nothing short of lovely.
One evening last week I was walking to Niamh's house in Stoke Newington, which is a neighborhood just west of mine. It was a Thursday, at about 7pm, and at a certain point I noticed there were lots of Middle Eastern men of all ages walking down the same street as me. As I progressed down the road their destination became more clear - there was a mosque located in the basement of one of the homes. As I passed it, I became aware that the street demographic changed almost immediately - all of a sudden instead of passing Muslim men, there were Hasidic Jewish men in droves: their synagogue was a mere stone's throw up the road.
For this and other reasons, London is incredible.
One evening last week I was walking to Niamh's house in Stoke Newington, which is a neighborhood just west of mine. It was a Thursday, at about 7pm, and at a certain point I noticed there were lots of Middle Eastern men of all ages walking down the same street as me. As I progressed down the road their destination became more clear - there was a mosque located in the basement of one of the homes. As I passed it, I became aware that the street demographic changed almost immediately - all of a sudden instead of passing Muslim men, there were Hasidic Jewish men in droves: their synagogue was a mere stone's throw up the road.
For this and other reasons, London is incredible.
Friday, 12 October 2007
Because it's his birthday
Here's a toast to the best dad in the world. He's wise and wonderful and intelligent and kind, he makes me laugh, he's the best role model I could ask for, and he's my friend. I love him with all my heart.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
High hopes!... come crashing down
My co-worker just told me that, as a student, I shouldn't be paying tax. At all.
If this is true, not only does the government owe me hundreds more pounds than they owed me before (yippee!), but it means my paychecks are going to get considerably larger.
I'm on my way to the tax office right now. Fingers xed!!!
*ONE HOUR LATER*
Damn, damn, damn. Not only do I have to keep paying tax, the tax rebate that was supposed to come through any day now hasn't even been processed yet! so it'll be a couple of months more, at least, until I get my windfall. Damn. Well, it was worth a shot, anyway.
In other news, I wore a skirt yesterday and today and showed off my toned, cycling legs. I am so hot it hurts. (Literally. My muscles are V sore.)
If this is true, not only does the government owe me hundreds more pounds than they owed me before (yippee!), but it means my paychecks are going to get considerably larger.
I'm on my way to the tax office right now. Fingers xed!!!
*ONE HOUR LATER*
Damn, damn, damn. Not only do I have to keep paying tax, the tax rebate that was supposed to come through any day now hasn't even been processed yet! so it'll be a couple of months more, at least, until I get my windfall. Damn. Well, it was worth a shot, anyway.
In other news, I wore a skirt yesterday and today and showed off my toned, cycling legs. I am so hot it hurts. (Literally. My muscles are V sore.)
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
My Eventful Weekend
I know, I know, this post is a day late. Forgiveness? In my defense, on my way into work yesterday I got caught in the pouring rain, had to abandon my bike at Oxford Circus, and ended up taking the tube the rest of the way in. I was never quite able to shake the resulting gross, wet, tired feeling, and consequently quite felt up to writing. But now I'm back! And will try to do justice to the crazybusyfunexhausting that was my weekend.
There's nothing much to say about Friday night except that I was in bed by 10pm. The previous night (my birthday, if you'll recall) had seen a rather impromptu gathering of friends at a bar I'd chosen but never been to, and it was successful enough that I wasn't at home and in bed until 2 or 3, and was wrecked at work all day on Friday. (Most pubs and bars close at 11pm in London, so I'd thought I would've made it to bed at a decent hour, but I just happened to pick a little dive that stayed open til 3am on a Thurs. Go figure.) Thus, the early bedtime, and the sleeping for THIRTEEN HOURS. It was amazing. I love sleep.
Late Saturday morning when I finally got up, after a quick cuddle session with Baerbel (God, how I love living with people!), she and Karim and I all went to our adorable little corner coffee shop for cappuccinos and pastries and wi-fi. I read an article in the Guardian magazine about Texans and the war which made me sad, and we wandered around for a little while before going home. Karim and Carrie caught their plane to Portugal, and I drank a lot of tea and bummed around the house.
At one point, mid-roomcleaning, I realised I wasn't sure where my phone was. I called it on the house phone - and got the "switched off" message. My tummy sank. I never turn off my phone, and it wasn't close to being out of battery, which meant that someone else had it. Retracing my steps, I realised I had oh so cleverly taken it outside with me at one point when I'd been drinking tea on the stoop, and then even more cleverly gone back inside without it.
I'm an idiot.
An idiot without a phone.
But there was nothing to be done about it that afternoon, so I banged my head against a wall a few times and then skedaddled off to work. It was a loooong cycle ride of nearly 15 miles, and it was the location that I often have to run more or less single-handedly - I set up lights and sound, run lights and sound, make announcements, work the door, and organise the acts - so it was already looking like it was going to be a busy night for me. Usually I have one of the managers there to help out and give me the paperwork, etc, so I wasn't too worried... but noone had showed up by 7:45, and the doors open at 8. Finally the bar took a call for me - my boss's girlfriend had been trying to get ahold of me for hours to tell me to start early - the first act at my location was the second act at hers, and to make it to the latter gig on time he'd have to rush. Which was fine. No sweat.
Until 8:45 rolled around with a fullish house, a 8:55 scheduled start, and NONE of the comedians had showed. No MC, and none of the three acts.
This is when I start to panic just the tiniest bit.
Into this insanity, enter Darrin (who, as an interesting sidebar, is the spitting image of my ex. If I hadn't been so stressed and distracted I would've flirted my little tush off. Perverse? Yes. But leave me my little guilty pleasures). He informs me he's one of the acts for the night, which confounds me because he's not on my list of acts for the night. A call to Pete (my boss) clears up the confusion - Darrin had been cancelled but he'd never gotten the message. Good thing he hadn't, too, because by now, though the second act has shown up, noone knows where the MC is, and the first act has just walked in the door but he's too late to do his spot and I have to shove cab fare in his hand and hustle him out the door so he can make the OTHER gig. Long story short (too late), Darrin MCed, the second act went on first, the third act went on second, and there was no third act. And I survived to tell the tale. Barely. Whew!
But the night wasn't over yet, for as you may recall, I had cycled 15 miles to get to work, which meant I had the same trek home. Through central London, at midnight on a Saturday, which was teeming with drunk people. Teeming. So I'm biking along, albeit warily, and of course this guy decides to jaywalk in front of me. I see him coming, and I'm dingin' my little bell and slowing down, but of course he either willingly ignores me or is too drunk to care, so I end up clipping his heel. He's fine, I go down. But I'm back up again like a jack-in-the-box, full of righteous wrath. (I have to say that I think this is a benefit of living in a big city - you get much better at standing up for yourself in the face of rude behaviour. And granted, he served as an easy outlet for all the stress I'd experienced over the course of the evening, but I still say he deserved it.) Knee skinned, trousers torn, fingers snapping in a Z formation, I gave him what for. I think he was a little taken aback by the rage of this little white girl, and only halfheartedly engaged in verbal combat, managing to mumble that my lights should be more bright ("Yeah? Well, you should be more sober!"*) before running away. Grrr. Stupid drunken ass. Still muttering expletives under my breath, I fixed my chain which had come off in the scuffle and continued homeward.
But not for long. Two miles later, a flat. Fuck.
I locked up my bike and walked the rest of the way home. I don't know how far it was, but it was more than three miles. Bleagh. It was nearly 4am by the time I finally made it to bed.
Sunday was much nicer. Despite the fact I got very little sleep and a later start to the day than planned, it was a lovely lovely day. I met up with Cecile for breakfast in Hackney, which was just what the doctor ordered in so many ways. Cecile is in the morning group, and as a result we'd never really gotten the chance to hang out before - she was one of those people that I always knew I wanted to get to know, but never had the opportunity. Well, the opportunity presented itself on Sunday at The Bohemian, and over a lengthy breakfast we talked, and laughed, and shared our experiences, both joyful and not, from the past year. She then agreed to run errands with me, which brought us to a bike shop by Brick Lane, and on a very lengthy meander through East London to Canary Wharf, where I got a new phone! For £20! And it's so much fancier than my old phone! She helped me choose a ringtone (the one I've settled on, however temporarily, is AMAZING. It's called "Amazement" and is basically the sound of a group of people going, "ooooOOOOOOoooo! .... ooooOOOOOOoooo!" over and over again. It cracks me up.), tried to teach me how to speak with a French accent, and we sang musicals and Disney tunes together as we walked down the street. A particular highlight was singing "Part of that World" from The Little Mermaid, I in English, she in French. She's a keeper, that Cecile. It was a beautiful day, and a very real connection that I'm so happy to have made.
*Not actually my retort. My actual retort was not nearly as cutting or clever. I think it was something like "Well, at least I have lights!" Ooh, zing.
There's nothing much to say about Friday night except that I was in bed by 10pm. The previous night (my birthday, if you'll recall) had seen a rather impromptu gathering of friends at a bar I'd chosen but never been to, and it was successful enough that I wasn't at home and in bed until 2 or 3, and was wrecked at work all day on Friday. (Most pubs and bars close at 11pm in London, so I'd thought I would've made it to bed at a decent hour, but I just happened to pick a little dive that stayed open til 3am on a Thurs. Go figure.) Thus, the early bedtime, and the sleeping for THIRTEEN HOURS. It was amazing. I love sleep.
Late Saturday morning when I finally got up, after a quick cuddle session with Baerbel (God, how I love living with people!), she and Karim and I all went to our adorable little corner coffee shop for cappuccinos and pastries and wi-fi. I read an article in the Guardian magazine about Texans and the war which made me sad, and we wandered around for a little while before going home. Karim and Carrie caught their plane to Portugal, and I drank a lot of tea and bummed around the house.
At one point, mid-roomcleaning, I realised I wasn't sure where my phone was. I called it on the house phone - and got the "switched off" message. My tummy sank. I never turn off my phone, and it wasn't close to being out of battery, which meant that someone else had it. Retracing my steps, I realised I had oh so cleverly taken it outside with me at one point when I'd been drinking tea on the stoop, and then even more cleverly gone back inside without it.
I'm an idiot.
An idiot without a phone.
But there was nothing to be done about it that afternoon, so I banged my head against a wall a few times and then skedaddled off to work. It was a loooong cycle ride of nearly 15 miles, and it was the location that I often have to run more or less single-handedly - I set up lights and sound, run lights and sound, make announcements, work the door, and organise the acts - so it was already looking like it was going to be a busy night for me. Usually I have one of the managers there to help out and give me the paperwork, etc, so I wasn't too worried... but noone had showed up by 7:45, and the doors open at 8. Finally the bar took a call for me - my boss's girlfriend had been trying to get ahold of me for hours to tell me to start early - the first act at my location was the second act at hers, and to make it to the latter gig on time he'd have to rush. Which was fine. No sweat.
Until 8:45 rolled around with a fullish house, a 8:55 scheduled start, and NONE of the comedians had showed. No MC, and none of the three acts.
This is when I start to panic just the tiniest bit.
Into this insanity, enter Darrin (who, as an interesting sidebar, is the spitting image of my ex. If I hadn't been so stressed and distracted I would've flirted my little tush off. Perverse? Yes. But leave me my little guilty pleasures). He informs me he's one of the acts for the night, which confounds me because he's not on my list of acts for the night. A call to Pete (my boss) clears up the confusion - Darrin had been cancelled but he'd never gotten the message. Good thing he hadn't, too, because by now, though the second act has shown up, noone knows where the MC is, and the first act has just walked in the door but he's too late to do his spot and I have to shove cab fare in his hand and hustle him out the door so he can make the OTHER gig. Long story short (too late), Darrin MCed, the second act went on first, the third act went on second, and there was no third act. And I survived to tell the tale. Barely. Whew!
But the night wasn't over yet, for as you may recall, I had cycled 15 miles to get to work, which meant I had the same trek home. Through central London, at midnight on a Saturday, which was teeming with drunk people. Teeming. So I'm biking along, albeit warily, and of course this guy decides to jaywalk in front of me. I see him coming, and I'm dingin' my little bell and slowing down, but of course he either willingly ignores me or is too drunk to care, so I end up clipping his heel. He's fine, I go down. But I'm back up again like a jack-in-the-box, full of righteous wrath. (I have to say that I think this is a benefit of living in a big city - you get much better at standing up for yourself in the face of rude behaviour. And granted, he served as an easy outlet for all the stress I'd experienced over the course of the evening, but I still say he deserved it.) Knee skinned, trousers torn, fingers snapping in a Z formation, I gave him what for. I think he was a little taken aback by the rage of this little white girl, and only halfheartedly engaged in verbal combat, managing to mumble that my lights should be more bright ("Yeah? Well, you should be more sober!"*) before running away. Grrr. Stupid drunken ass. Still muttering expletives under my breath, I fixed my chain which had come off in the scuffle and continued homeward.
But not for long. Two miles later, a flat. Fuck.
I locked up my bike and walked the rest of the way home. I don't know how far it was, but it was more than three miles. Bleagh. It was nearly 4am by the time I finally made it to bed.
Sunday was much nicer. Despite the fact I got very little sleep and a later start to the day than planned, it was a lovely lovely day. I met up with Cecile for breakfast in Hackney, which was just what the doctor ordered in so many ways. Cecile is in the morning group, and as a result we'd never really gotten the chance to hang out before - she was one of those people that I always knew I wanted to get to know, but never had the opportunity. Well, the opportunity presented itself on Sunday at The Bohemian, and over a lengthy breakfast we talked, and laughed, and shared our experiences, both joyful and not, from the past year. She then agreed to run errands with me, which brought us to a bike shop by Brick Lane, and on a very lengthy meander through East London to Canary Wharf, where I got a new phone! For £20! And it's so much fancier than my old phone! She helped me choose a ringtone (the one I've settled on, however temporarily, is AMAZING. It's called "Amazement" and is basically the sound of a group of people going, "ooooOOOOOOoooo! .... ooooOOOOOOoooo!" over and over again. It cracks me up.), tried to teach me how to speak with a French accent, and we sang musicals and Disney tunes together as we walked down the street. A particular highlight was singing "Part of that World" from The Little Mermaid, I in English, she in French. She's a keeper, that Cecile. It was a beautiful day, and a very real connection that I'm so happy to have made.
By the time I got home at six I was exhausted. Though I'd had plans to attend a fundraiser-cabaret at Madame JoJo's with Baerbel, I couldn't bring myself to leave the house, so I curled up with some microwave popcorn, cheap phone calls to the States, and the 1971 Get Carter, starring Michael Caine. Comfy, content, and all alone.
Or so I thought.
Turns out we have a mouse. He's adorable, but I have reservations. One mouse is cute. Many mice? Not so much. So I left a note for Karim asking him to talk to the estate agent about it (as well as further insulating the front doors - there's definitely a mouse-sized gap under them that is doing nothing to deter an all-out invasion) and went to bed.
And that was my weekend! Worth the wait? I hope so.
*Not actually my retort. My actual retort was not nearly as cutting or clever. I think it was something like "Well, at least I have lights!" Ooh, zing.
Monday, 8 October 2007
Tune in tomorrow for...
I had a very eventful weekend.
As a result, I don't have the energy to write about it, really.
But tomorrow, you can look forward to me regaling you with tales of assertiveness in the face of drunken behaviour, comedy nights that crash and burn, how to lose your phone, where to have breakfast in Hackney, newfound friends and how they make my heart warm, skinned knees, and the joy of choosing a new ringtone. Oh, and mice.
Don't touch that dial.
As a result, I don't have the energy to write about it, really.
But tomorrow, you can look forward to me regaling you with tales of assertiveness in the face of drunken behaviour, comedy nights that crash and burn, how to lose your phone, where to have breakfast in Hackney, newfound friends and how they make my heart warm, skinned knees, and the joy of choosing a new ringtone. Oh, and mice.
Don't touch that dial.
Friday, 5 October 2007
Now We are (Twenty) Six
There's something bittersweet about birthdays, especially the ones you spend away from home. I had my share of joy yesterday, peppered with moments of missing those close friends who are so far, and I've come to realise/remember that I am so very blessed. I have incredible friends who are beautiful and funny and intelligent and talented and true and who continue to show me no end of kindness. I have a family that is my roots and my strength, whom I love with all my heart and whom I would be lost without. I have pieces of homes and wholeness all over the world.
I am humbled in the face of such fortune, such joy.
Thank you to all of you who make my life such a joyous journey. Thank you for making me feel so loved, and so deserving. Having people like you around me is the best birthday present I could ever wish for, and having you in my life I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
I am humbled in the face of such fortune, such joy.
Thank you to all of you who make my life such a joyous journey. Thank you for making me feel so loved, and so deserving. Having people like you around me is the best birthday present I could ever wish for, and having you in my life I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Wednesday, 3 October 2007
Why I'm Sleepy Today
When you come home at 10pm after wrangling with your crazy ex-landlady, and your kitchen holds the very pleasant surprise of guests in the form of Alexander and Jillian, it would be downright rude not to stay up past your bedtime with them and polish off two bottles of wine.
At least that's what I think.
At least that's what I think.
Tuesday, 2 October 2007
Ode to Crazy Landladies
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Why are you nuts!? You live in Crazytown, population YOU! YOUR CRAZY IS INFECTIOUS AND YOU MAKE ME INSAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!
*pant pant pant*
I didn't believe the stories, and now I'm paying the price. I have you to thank, Mrs D, for my torn hair, my beaten breast, my rent garments. I am counting down the days until the new tenants have arrived, my deposit is safely returned to my pocket, and I can wash my hands of you and your crazy, crazy ways, you crazy crazy lady.
*pant pant pant*
I didn't believe the stories, and now I'm paying the price. I have you to thank, Mrs D, for my torn hair, my beaten breast, my rent garments. I am counting down the days until the new tenants have arrived, my deposit is safely returned to my pocket, and I can wash my hands of you and your crazy, crazy ways, you crazy crazy lady.
Monday, 1 October 2007
Monday, Monday
This weekend marked the exodus east, which ended up being a lot easier and more enjoyable than expected. The apartment that I so reviled on first viewing is much more pleasant when filled with people I love and who make me dinner. It will never be that house we lost in Leyton, but it'll do. I'm still trying to figure out how to make my textured-white-wallpaper-walls pretty, though. I'm thinking of investing in some blix (thanks to Katy, for showing me the way, however unintentionally). If anyone else has any ideas, send them my way. Otherwise there's always the old standby of postcards and photos and BluTak.
One of the great things about moving east is that we're now closer to most of our friends who had already made the leap, as well as being closer to the city in general. On Sunday, Karim, Baerbel, and I went down to Brick Lane market, which was a lovely cycle ride of about 15min or so. The weather was perfect for it, brisk and sunny, and on the way back Karim and I went through the Columbian Flower Market, which was vibrant as only a flower market can be. The evening found us in Stoke Newington hanging out in Ryan's little studio apartment with Seiriol, and then we walked to a park and had some beers on the lawn as the sun went down. A very satisfactory day.
Today I'm tired for no particular reason. Luckily it's been slow at work, and most of my time has been spent making a colour-coordinated chart showing all the people that will be moving into and out of the old house over the course of the next three weeks. It never ceases to astound me how well I organise others when I'm admittedly so poor at organising myself.
One of the great things about moving east is that we're now closer to most of our friends who had already made the leap, as well as being closer to the city in general. On Sunday, Karim, Baerbel, and I went down to Brick Lane market, which was a lovely cycle ride of about 15min or so. The weather was perfect for it, brisk and sunny, and on the way back Karim and I went through the Columbian Flower Market, which was vibrant as only a flower market can be. The evening found us in Stoke Newington hanging out in Ryan's little studio apartment with Seiriol, and then we walked to a park and had some beers on the lawn as the sun went down. A very satisfactory day.
Today I'm tired for no particular reason. Luckily it's been slow at work, and most of my time has been spent making a colour-coordinated chart showing all the people that will be moving into and out of the old house over the course of the next three weeks. It never ceases to astound me how well I organise others when I'm admittedly so poor at organising myself.
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