It’s Saturday again. Woke up with a headache- I think it might have been from all the screaming in the house that woke me up around 4 am this morning.
I’m actually studying Latin today– and actually really enjoying it!
I need to be busy. I am a worker. But I forget this when I get out of my groove– and I wonder why I’m unhappy. And it is almost always because I feel shit about myself because I’m not being productive.
Need a job when I get back to the states. Need to be so busy that I don’t have time to think, even though I am SO GOOD at being the Queen of Leisure.
Today I am fixing Mexican food for the gang. We’ll see how it goes– I was thinking about doing Chipotle burritos? Make some cilantro and lemon basmati rice, attempt to find some burrito shells/taco shells, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, black beans and refried beans. I might get some beef, or whatever it is that you use for tacos, and have Loic cook it.
BY THE WAY. Loic sneakily somehow got a hold of the link for my blog! :P Also, last night, while we were all a little tipsy on wine and intense about life, Loic, Eva and Jisu made me promise NEVER to delete my facebook account. Actually, they FORCED me into promising. Loic and Eva both freaked out for the hour and a half or so yesterday when I did not exist on the digital world. So I’m not allowed to do that again without consulting THEM.
Loic fixed a beautiful meal last night- I’ll have to get the recipe. He casually created an absolutely perfect traditional Korean meal! Jisu said it tasted just like home! It was DELICIOUS. I had three helpings. Chicken, peppers, potatoes, onions and Korean curry spice.
Korean people will live FOREVER.
When I eat Korean food I feel like I am adding years to my life and power to my body.
Loic has created a beautiful playlist of his favorite songs for me to take back to the states with me.
Whenever English people go in for interviews, or work at a professional job, they use a certain accent that they learn to use when they are growing up. It has a name, my friend Joe told me all about it. So, for example, he has his strong Birmingham accent, but when he is doing something important and official, he switches over to this standard posh London accent.
So ALL English people learn this, except, of course, people like Emily, who already speak like this in their everyday speech. But Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Bath, etc ALL adapt this in official settings.
I was talking to Farmer Dan, and he says he uses a mild form of it everyday here at Uni. When he is back home he uses his real accent, which is really thick. But here he uses a accent halfway in between both. “The Bath accent doesn’t exactly scream intelligence.” In professional settings he’ll get a really posh voice on.
There is a name for this accent, the professional voice, but I can’t remember what it is… they all learn it in school though! And it’s like, really common for everyone outside of London to learn this other accent and essential they can use it in everyday settings when they need to. Joe was telling me this is because dialect in England traditionally tells a lot about one’s social and economic status. So when you want to be seen as professional and taken seriously you have to drop your natural dialect.
The most filling dinner we’ve had in a long time. Curry with quorn chicken and a baked potato and rice and salad with dressing. I had two helpings of the salad because it is the freshest it has looked in a long time. Then someone said it tasted funny, and I was like, yeah it does, and we decided that it was probably because it was frozen. When you bite into it there is like an excess of water. Yum.
On the brightside, I didn’t eat the sticky chocolate cake for dinner tonight- so there is progress with my anti-English-food-getting-healthy-again-diet.
Drinking my Orange tea again. I realized what the taste reminds me of: fruit loops. Now I don’t know if I can finish the box…. IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE NATURRRRRRALLLL. Tea, orange peel (3%) and lemon peel (3%), and “flavouring.” Who the hell knows what that may be? It’s what they use to make fruit loops with, that’s what. BLEH. I hate processed food.
I realized another book I would like, so I grabbed my bike and started back downtown after awhile. It started to rain really hard while I was riding, and it felt great. I love the rain. I missed it, with all these sunny days lately! Tomorrow is June, and I am wearing a sweater and sweat pants today. Such different weather.
I picked up the book, Zoli, also by Mccann, and then noticed a bookshop across the street I had never been to before, so I went in. It was HUGE. That is the thing about English/city stores— they look like little nooks but they are actually like 3 story department stores! Anyway, this store had some great books and I got some good ideas of new things to look up at the library.
After this I went back to grab my bike, scribbling notes onto an old receipt as I went. I had a nice bikeride back home, made it back to the puke ridden house and am hiding in my room so as not to ruin my appetite for dinner. Lovely Hastings.
Against all odds my bike survived the morning, and I picked it up again a bit later and rode it to Uni.
At Uni I stopped by Santander and cancelled my British bank accounts; the symbolic finality of the action sinking in after I did so.
Sitting outside the Uni cafe, I enjoyed the gloomy sky and light rain. I will miss this weather. I get such a safe feeling from shitty weather. The gloom seems to envelope you in a protective shell. You are not expected to be happy, you are not expected to be busy, you can just curl up and read all day, and talk when you feel like it. You can be dramatic and moody and bitter. I have heard that this is why English culture and humor is so different from American culture and humor. Since Britain never really has sunshine, as a culture it is okay to act like everyday is a rainy day, complimenting and heightening their biting wit and dry humor. To contrast this, in sunny America we are expected to smile all the time, constantly interact and laugh out loud. Obviously there is a difference in cultural expression and no one can tell EXACTLY where it came from, but I would say that the weather could have a lot to do with the creation of these social and cultural norms.
Emily and I got up for breakfast this morning, after only 30 minutes of hitting the snooze button. Progress.
After breakfast I took a shower, and held my breath as I walked around the house as someone had puked on the stair case last night. Happy morning to you, too.
Anyway, the day turned out really productive as I wanted to stay out of the puke infused house.
I went downtown to the central library first, and returned a few books. While down there, found a book I haven’t read by one of my favorite authors, Colum Mccann. It’s a compilation of short stories entitled: “Everything in this Country Must.” Really good so far.
Riding down the street and yawning apparently. This little old man drove past, slowing down as he passed me and making a big deal about mimicking my big huge yawn. For a second I had no idea what was happening, and then I laughed. It was actually really funny.
Had to park my bike on a side street as there are no bike racks on the main road I found a bike rack next to a company, observing their sign which seemed a bit ominous: WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR STOLEN BIKE.
I’m leaving soon, and the bike was cheap as hell, so I’m not as worried now about getting it stolen as I was earlier in the year.
Started fumbling around with my bike to lock it up, and a construction worker is like, half joking but half serious, “You got keys to prove that is yours?” “I haven’t even locked it up yet, yes it’s mine” “I trust you. You don’t look like a shady person.” Oh, of course I am a shady character: I am just wearing my bangs up in a petite ponytail on top of my head like a little Yorkshire Terrier to DECEIVE you. Anyway, the guy wouldn’t let it go. “You work here?” “Nope.” “Well, that’s fine. I guess all they would say is if it DID happen to get stolen (at this point I was pretty sure this man was going to nick my bike)… they are not responsible.” He kept letting me know his disturbingly large knowledge of all the bikes in town, and by the time I had finished locking up my bike I was POSITIVE my bike would be gone when I came back.
I forget how interesting the world outside my room can be. Within 20 minutes I had interaction with various different and odd people who gave me funny faces, warnings and cat calls. Oh Leicester.
Went to Costa Coffee on London road and had one of their extremely well sized Americanos, read Mccann, did Latin, and jotted down quotes from the mildly entertaining British business men in front of me.