This is how it went down
6:30 PM: Conversation while (whilst if you're British) eating "jello"
Her: My mommy makes the best jello.
Me: Second best.
Her: To who?
Me: My mom.
Her: What about my grandma?
Me: Mmmmm she can be third best. What does she put in it?
Her: Fruit.
Me: Ok. I put vodka in mine.
Her: ::Laughs:: Wait, there's vodka in what you're eating?
7:30-10 PM: For the next few hours, there was much tv watching (British television shows finally got funny yesterday - thank god.) "Have I got news for you" (quite good, really) and the news. There's such a disturbance about the avian flu...the turkish emperor/ruler broke ramadan fasting to each chicken as a sign of good faith and Condoleeza Rice was on my telly saying the world needed to step up and share information. But ohmygod the way they handled those chickens...they just threw them - literally threw them - into garbage bins and backs of trucks.. I can't imagine having ever done that to Cynclare or those little baby chicks that I used to have. I guess when you have to slaughter 2500 birds from one farm alone then have to do the rest of the villiage you lose your soft touch.
10-10:45 PM: Then there was me going to Sainsbury to buy $40 worth of alcoholic beverages and oj. (I don't know what this is. I'm addicted to oj. I just can't get enough of it)
10:45 PM - 12:30 AM: I judged from the way she hit me when I tried to wake her up that she didn't want to come with me to the grocery, so I let her sleep until 10:45 when we absolutely, desperately needed to just leave already. I knew I coudln't deal with this party sober, so while she got dressed I went and had fun with Glen - "Glen's Vodka" being the name on my cheap ass vodka... We took the Central line (yes, I did know you were talking about my boobs before you even said a word to me. Way to be subtle.) to Bank and switch to DLR or DRL which was not quite a tube, more of a really slow old train.
We got out a place called "Mudchute" (doesn't sound like a very appealing place, but it's really pretty.) It's in zone 2, which is in London, but is no longer in central London. There are a lot of high rises out there and the waterways are beautiful at night.
When we got in the area of the house (it was a housewarming party) I found a park with two poles sticking up from the ground, a line of wire stretched between them and a seat that you straddle hanging off. You sit on the seat and zip between the poles. It was mad fun.
12:30 AM: When we went inside, there were people dancing upstairs, some people chilling in the kitchen and garden, but I think the majority of people had already left because by this time, it was already twelve thirty.
I knew I was not nearly drunk enough for this party.
There was beer that I didn't drink but held in my hand for two and a half hours trying to make other people drink it for me (which they did, happily) And then there was me not being drunk enough to think this party was funny, but drunk enough to know that I wanted something to make it funny.
I tried to call you - I got some guy named Michael/Robert (I forgot which) instead because I put one wrong digit in. I finally got through to you, but not til 3:00 and NOW I know why no one ever responds to my text messages! It's because you all haven't been getting them. When my mom calls from my house, my phone recognises it (even without the "00" at the beginning of the number) so i assumed that If I just texted your regular number without the "00" it too would go through. Not so. Well ... just know that there are text messages somewhere floating through the air trying to find you.
Tired&sober Cynthia really didn't think it was funny when you, a total stranger, asked me about my personal life. Really. I'm very open about things regarding this manner, but you really pissed me off. You don't know me or have any reason for needing the information you would have garnered out of our conversation and I feel that you did it as a pathetic attempt to be funny and/or embarrass me. Thanks.
And to you, guy, who thought it would be appropriate to tell me that you "didn't like Americans" because you "didn't like Bush" and when I told you that I didn't vote for him, you would procede to come up to me for the rest of the party saying "San Francisco!" like it was my name and then tell me that you would never visit me there. Thanks you little fucker, at least I would have made the attempt to your sorry ass home country before I ever judged it.
3:00 AM; And to you, other guy, who when I told you I was leaving on the night bus said that the night bus stops at 2 in the morning and I said .... it's a [fucking] night bus. That means it runs all night. And you who don't have a clue when you are fucking pissed says "What, so you think the bus drivers just drive all night and don't stop?" And when I got angry and yelled at you "They switch drivers, they don't drive all night", I really wanted to insert an explicative between every one of those words especially when the next thing out of your mouth was "Are you an American?" as if that had ANYTHING to do with the conversation.
3:00 - 3:15 AM: I'd go on and on about how other shit happened, but Maureen heard too much about it, and I don't even know what really happened because for all I know, I was hallucinating and it didn't really happen.
3:15 - 4:30 AM: We then got onto the N50 bus which (OMG, big surprise!) was running all the fucking night. I throughly enjoyed the ride. It took us out of the boonies of zone two along the thames and the "city of london" ending at trafalgar square (which after that we had to walk the half hour walk back at 4 in the morning with both of our feet and legs hurting, but agreeing that that was a most enjoyable bus ride. It was as good as a coach tour of London for the low low price of a pack of gum.
I literally threw off my clothes and jumped into bed and didn't wake until 11:30. I felt really happy when I woke up, though! When you have a lot of blankets on your bed and you whip your legs back and forth, it feels like your swimming. I need to do that more.
Reasons I relish time times both my roommates are out
1. I play NSync's Celebrity album at full volume without fear of discovery
1.1. No one hears me put "The Two of Us" on repeat and sing
2. No one has to watch me eat half the tuna-noodle-thing that I was supposed to save for tommorrow
3. Lying naked in bed
4. The mess stays at the foot of my bed for just a bit longer
Reasons it's not good to leave me unattended
1. the line between "mine" and "yours" becomes fuzzy and in the heat of the moment, I've forgotten whose coke I'm drinking
2. No one's here to remind me that Red Square vodka is nail polish remover in disguise.
3. I try dulling the taste of said nail polish remover with a) tuna-noodle-thing b) my coke
4. I find the stash of stolen shot glasses and suddenly cappuchino vodka shots are born (ooh not a good idea)
I only have one secret that I've ever felt that was important enough to keep. I read other people's secrets. They're so sad. They make me cry.
The thing I'm most grateful for when my roommates are gone is that no one can see me cry.
I look at pictures of babies and wonder what it's like to make something of your own flesh. I read blogs because I don't believe that there is anyone else on this planet besides me. Thier stories make me feel that our experiences will collide in a The Hours sort of way. When I hear that one song by Smashing Pumpkins, I picture myself running at sundown around Lake Merced. I don't remember what I desired at that point in my life. I feel this needs time to simmer and reduce. And after that, let's play Taboo. I have it in French, too.
Status
Yesterday was Jamie Oliver. He was BEAUTIFUL as always. The whole "performance" was an interview - London style. The man who interviewed Jamie Oliver came on stage holding a half-full bottle of beer and introduced Jamie by saying that he had previously interviewed him, took notes, and the things that Jamie said were complete and utter nonsense. This man then leaned over the podium (I think he had a little more than just half a bottle of beer) and squinted over his notes: "Jamie Oliver said, 'I just love lemons. They're fucking time bombs! I always used to squeeze the lemon on the chicken, but now I found that if you put them lemon in the chicken while you cook it, the lemon just gets into every part of the chicken and it's fantastic!'" Then Jamie came out and they talked, and he called Bush a wanker, then he answered some of the audience's questions, and then he smiled, and then book signing. I didn't have a book for him to sign. =(. But it's still ok! I was within 200 feet of Jamie Oliver for the second time in my life. And there are pictures. But they're fuzzy pictures. And the only one that isn't fuzzy, he's making a funny face. Actually, he's making a funny face in almost all of the pictures.
Honestly, this was the best picture of the whole night. Notice the beer bottles and the untouched water sitting under the table.
It rained like crazy last night. I had a painting midterm today. Yesterday I had my literature midterm. They were both ok. I'm not sure how these lecturers grade, however, so I don't want to be too confident yet. Next week is my "archaeology" midterm. My history term paper is due ON THE SAME DAY. On Tuesday. Tuesday! Not even Friday! Oh no! I sense an all nighter coming on...
I have no idea what I'm doing right now. Honestly. I'm lying on my bed like a crackhead writing this and realising that my body needs rest, but I just drank 2 cups of coffee because I thought it was tasty, and now there is caffeine in my system. I lost my keys. I walked from my flat to the bank (it's only five minutes away) and back and they were gone. I walked to the bank and back again, but no where could I find my keys. Great. I really need to take out money from the bank. I have 1.03 pounds right now. I don't think that could buy me even a sandwich from the grocery. I made an amazing dinner. I don't know what a tuna noodle casserole is, but I chanted the name in my head while it was cooking. My dish had tuna, noodles, celery, some other stuff and I stuck it in the oven all under the left-over crust from my pies. Mmm. It was good. Last night Jamie was saying that poor people had to be inventive with their food...hahahaha well I feel like living proof of that.
I was looking at my scrapbook earlier and I can't wait for you to see it. A little bit of (most of you) is in there. I cherish every sweet word and moment we've had together. You'd better believe I'd include it! It's not earth shattering, but I like it. I like doing things that are ... "creative." (I've never felt like someone with artistic ability so saying that anything I've done shows right-brain thought must be approached with some hesitancy. ) Sairina found a place that was looking for American bloggers in London, they would pay you half of what they made on your site, and they would design the site for you. (Beside the fact that I like writing whenever I want and not because I have to (although I'm pretty sure I could make the "at least 20 entries per month" requirement),) I didn't want to do it because I like designing my own sites. It's always intersting to start thinking, "man, how in the hell will I ever do this without photoshop" and then it ends and there's something on the page that makes me happy anyway. Sometimes I look back on what I had done and think, "I did that?!?! I wrote that paper with all the words, I pasted all those pictures, I put those colors together?" Sometimes, I end up wondering what in the hell I was thinking, other times I don't believe (or even really remember) that I did it and feel impressed.
Keys! I don't have 25 pounds! You need to come back to me! Come home, please.
"Yea I know who he is - he's a food god!"
I. Me! Cynthia! will tomorrow (Wednesday) be going to see...get this!...JAMIE OLIVER. Oh my god. 7 PM. Be there or be square. AAAHHHHH I think I'm dying now....and not only that, I now have two extra tickets. I'm so excited!!! Who should I give them to? I'm so exhausted. I slept during my fifteen minute break in history. I need to write a paper tonight. I have 5 pounds with which to buy knitting needles and yarn. =(. I also need that 5 pounds to last me through the end of this week. Yea, that won't be happening. All I have in my fridge is a quarter block of cheddar cheese, a celery heart, and rice. Eww. That sounds sick together. So I completely forgot to tell about the coolest part of Jamie Oliver coming here - the place where it's being held is...ok. So I live at Bedford Place. If you had continued that street right across Russell Square Park and let it come out on the other side, that's where it's gonna be. Bedford Way. Jamie Oliver is going to be two blocks from my flat. Two blocks!
Moo (Said a heifer)
I think it took a large slap of reality to get me back here. It's been really hectic inside my brain for a awhile, but I think I'm feeling better. Every word I write feels so tentative...as if the second I write it, it will cease to be all right and I'll have to erase it. So everything starts with an "I think" or ends with "or at least it has been for awhile." I'm trying to cling to this feeling so hard.
I spent that past few hours cooking. I made chicken pot pie - one with chicken, one without. And also a banana pie. (I had extra dough.) When I was looking up the recipe, I found a lot of "you make chicken soup and drop dough in it." That's not quite what I had in mind - I was thinking more along the lines of you make a pie crust and put chicken soup in it. So what's essentially what I did. They're cooling on the windowsill right now. I also bought tortillas and made burritos. OHMYGOD. It was so much better than any burrito I've ever had before. And I made them, so how could anything I made not be the best? (HA!)
These two-four-one deals are crazy. I've been to wagamama twice in the past week. And strangely enough, I ordered 2 different meals, but both of them tasted exactly like the chicken korma I've already had 3 times since I've been here. It's like that's all god wants me to eat! Chicken in curry and chicken in coconut sauce and chicken and rice and noodles and chicken until I die! Make sure you get the coconut ice cream with passionfruit sauce if you go. It was one of the best desserts I've ever had.
Aleks's parents are here. I think I should put my orange juice away lest they see that their daughter is rooming with a girl that drinks straight out of the carton.
This semester of school feels like summer break. I go to class four days of the week, and for two of those days, I only have 1 class. I have 3 classes on Tuesdays, and I consider that a "busy" day. I stay out past midnight on a daily basis and don't consider drinking cranberry juice unless vodka is involved.
I have to get my shit together!
Week of Weakness
In celebration of the end of Mrs. Dalloway I shall write an entry in the stream of consciousness form (except, I think, I shall not make as wonderful use of the commas as she did). I am in the computer lab right now, supposed to be doing homework, kind of hiding from my roommates, and all I can think about doing is biting my nails. I don't know where I'm going to sleep tonight...I don't want to get into it right now, you can ask me sometime if you like, but though I am paying $5500 for 3 months rent, I don't want to go to the flat I am paying for. I got a scholarship. It didn't pay for the total balance, but it helped. (The last time we were in the computer lab, it was blasting the air conditioner. Now the heater is on. How strange. Why do heaters always smell like this?) Seriously though, all I can focus on is this one finger with the broken nail.
Oh and I know what else I am focusing on.
So this has been the crappiest week of my life. (There have been worse.) I finally have a copy of Mrs. Dalloway, the movie, but, alas, I have no computer to play it on. (I finally bit the nail.) Today was the first day in a week that I haven't been to the grocery. (It hurts.) That's just disgusting.
When you're trying to drown your sorrows in alcohol, it's best if there isn't cheap Russian (he meant Ukranian) vodka around, and it's even better if there aren't Smirnoff ices to chase it with.
Midterms are next week. It might be the week after. I feel the pressure.
Those little blinking boxes drive me mad. You think I'm kidding but I'm not. Always with the erratic "blink blink blink" look at me, look at me.
Not much holds my focus these days. Mrs. Dalloway kept it for about 2 hours today, but I think that was from the pressure of having a presentation. (My history teacher helped me pick a topic for my paper. I have no final direction, but I think it shall be a historical review of the Bloomsbury Set.) I think there's a combination of the girly disorder combined with true and utter frustration. (I almost wrote udder. There's a box of milk in the vending machine called "moo" that is "udderly mootricious." I think it sticks in my mind). I miss knitting.
I'm ready to join Wordsworth in his unrealistic utopia
And one early morning when I couldn't sleep, I made the transition from the pink rain to the London rain. But always, the flowers.
All six of them were somewhere that wasn't here, and I (who technically doesn't even live here), was here by myself. I was taking the first hot water bath, and I was running around naked, and I was trying to tidy up. When I went to the window and saw the stormy clouds and looked out onto the silent courtyard, I knew I must savor those moments because soon I would be thrown into the din with my own 5 flatmates - mess, noise, and all.
Where today went, I could not tell you. There must have been a ripple in the time-space continuum. There was no TV watching, nor the answering of e-mails, and only one meal. There was, however, a lot of thinking and that is always a dangerous activity. But I like danger.
