Tonight

The heater is blasting, I am nibbling on bacon chocolate, my project is on my desk and I am trying to illustrate my designs right now.

I am excited about tomorrow, when I will turn in my first real project and get my first real grade.... which might not be a good grade, but at least I will get an idea of what they are looking at when they grade us.

After we turn in our work, several of my classmates and I are going to get lunch and go to a pub while we await our grades. And then I have social plans that evening. Followed by SLEEPING.

It's a cozy evening, complete with a glass of wine and movies on in the background. And it will be even better when I finally finish this project and can crawl into bed.

Happy

I have so much homework to do tonight. I don't think I will sleep much. No sleep for the social!

Today I was reminded how much I love this city when I got to play tour guide for two of my friends from out of town. They are looking to move here, so my kind of general neighborhoody/wandering/fresh-off-the-plane knowledge was perfect. I might not be able to recommend the best pub in East London, but I can show them around places they might want to live.

Walking around and seeing how excited they were by London filled me with the same inspiration I felt the first few days here. I was reminded that I moved here with a purpose, and that I have come so far since the day I arrived. I feel like I've grown up so much in just six weeks. I think I was ready for something bigger than San Francisco. I need something more at this moment in my life. And London is it. Being here feels right.

Wandering around my neighborhood with them tonight, I realized something very important: I am happy. Deep down, I am actually very happy. I love it here.

It might be cold as all hell today, and I might be facing a very long night of homework, but I truly feel that despite my occasional loneliness, I am the happiest I've been for a long time. I am inspired and empowered here in a way that I've never experienced before.

In my heart I feel sure that I made the right decision in moving here. And that is a good feeling to carry with me.

First Snow

It just began to snow. First snow of the season, and unseasonably early....

Same Redhead, Only Shorter...

Oh also, I got my hair cut last night. Anyone who knows me in person knows that I've been trying to grow my hair out for years with no success. So I finally decided to cut off all the over-dyed bits and do something short, stylish, and fun! I LOVE IT! And my hair feels healthier than it has in years...

Redhead's First Care Package

I actually squealed when I opened my mailbox this afternoon and found a surprise care package from The Boy back home. I rushed up to my room and tore it open.... inside was a pair of cute socks (I NEED socks, and they match a new sweater I got), a dvd of San Francisco (heehee), the most awesome post card ever, and TWO- count'em- TWO bacon chocolate bars. If you've never had the incredible experience of a bacon chocolate bar, you haven't lived. Truly, they are two great things that go great together.

WEEEEEE I feel loved and happy. And I am wearing my socks tomorrow!

On Travel and the American Mindset Against It

On the walk home from the market yesterday my classmate and I compared notes. Being from Australia she has a very different sense of the world than I do. It got me thinking...

As a young person living on an isolated continent, there is an expectation in Australia that you will travel the world. This girl is only 23 and has been to so many places she can't even recall them all. She tells me that while she and a friend would be wandering the streets of Hong Kong or New Delhi, she would often run into other Australians doing the same thing.

In contrast I've grown up in a country that has an inflated sense of self. There is a deep rooted feeling engrained into us that America has it all, and has it the best... so why bother traveling, right?

It is incredibly expensive to travel within the US, much less outside of it. There are many roadblocks and issues to deal with when you leave the country. Just preparing to travel can be a very big chore. It's like they want to make you feel guilty for wanting something more than America. "I'm sorry, I really want to visit Burma, is that okay with you?" you're supposed to ask.

In America travel is seen as a luxury. People who travel often are "lucky" and living an exotic lifestyle. But in Australia, you're an idiot if you don't leave the island. How different the mindset must be to grow up feeling that it is natural and important to travel to unfamiliar places, instead of feeling that it's unusually decadent to fly coach to another country for a week.

I spent the walk home listening to my classmate, realizing I have missed out on a important part of life. And I promised myself that I would take steps to change that fact because I feel so ignorant of the goings on in the world around me. I suppose that is the result of growing up in a culture that encourages us to stay put, and be proud of it. America! Fuck yeah!

Broadway Market

Today I went to the Broadway Market with a girl from my class.

We began the afternoon with strawberry beer in a cozy little pub while sharing a delicious lavender cupcake. And then we braved the wind to wander the food market. I really lucked out, and for the first time since I've moved here I am excited to cook all the healthy food in my refrigerator.

Currently I am stocked with a huge sweet potato, parsnips, carrots, fresh rosemary, a creamy goat cheese, ripe oranges, green apples, an incredible fresh pesto, organic heirloom tomatoes, green onions, chicken breast, and of course a homemade brownie.

I can't wait to cook dinner!

Along the walk to and from the market my classmate and her boyfriend pointed out all of their local hang out spots. I now know a great Chinese place, a yummy pizza joint, some delicious restaurants, a good local cinema, and some of the best pubs in the area by their standards. It's nice knowing people who have lived here a year longer than I have.

Yeay food and nice people!

Catching Up

It's been a long time since I've been wide awake at 2am, curled up in a warm bed, laptop against my knees. Or maybe it was only five weeks ago, but my life in San Francisco feels so distant now. I can recall all the places and people that pieced together my life there, but somehow life is completely different nowadays. Well, not completely different, I suppose. It is somehow still exactly the same while being entirely new.

I meant to write something on October 20th to mark my One Month in London anniversary, but I recall the 20th consisting of a very emotional evening after a very tiring day. Had I been in a more optimistic place that night, I would have toasted making it this far with a mini bottle of champagne and a single champagne glass. But I was not in that headspace, and there will be plenty of other dates that will be more significant in the future.

Some friends from California just emailed me to say that they are in London for the next few days. On top of my friends in Poland coming to scope out apartments, I also have SO MUCH to do before The Boy comes to visit me in ten days. And all of these social engagements are going to have to be worked around a very big homework project that is due on Friday. As I discussed in an earlier entry, I really have to work hard on my next couple of projects to make sure I don't remain at the bottom of my class. This project needs to be Good, as in the Capitalized G and italicized variety of "good". I will not get up in front of this class and present another project that I feel the need to apologize for. I refuse the suffer that humiliation again. So this week I might not be posting much.

It's 2:30 exactly and I am starting to regret that delicious cup of coffee I made at 6:00 after two failed attempts at an afternoon nap. Why oh why can't I be the napping type? I could get away with so much more late-night drawing sessions if I could just nap every now and then. I envy people that are good sleepers. Like beauty or brains, there is a gross inequality of good sleep amongst the human race. Someone should see to that.

2:33, and I am starting to feel a hint of sleep at the corners of my vision. I might be so bold as to suggest a yawn is imminent.

Yep, that was a yawn. I guess that's the sign that this redhead needs to unplug and shut down for a few hours.

Good night dear silent readers, whoever you are. Like my favorite Central Line train operator says on Friday mornings, "please remember to take all your belongings with you when you exit the train. And whoever you are, where ever you're going, and whatever the weather, have a lovely weekend and stay safe."

A Few More Fabric Experiments

Today I went into class feeling like shit. I didn't get any great ideas from all my drawing and painting last night, and spent the better part of the evening having a really difficult State of the Union discussion with The Boy that went until 2am.

I had decided to run with the theme my teacher suggested (peacocks) and to my dismay, I'd come up with nothing I liked. I painted, I printed, I did hideous things to fabric all morning long. Finally I decided it was time for a coffee break. Nothing takes care of your woes like some caffeine, and a few people asking if your quiet morning is the result of sleepiness or something more. It's nice to feel cared about, even if it's just a casually friendly classmate's kind of caring.

I came back to the print room wanting to try something different. So I stopped drawing literal illustrations, and began crumpling up fabric and smearing dyes around until I got something I liked.

The results of these experiments used the colors I kept pulling together for my peacock illustrations, but used them in a less obvious way. And when I smoothed out my crumpled fabric I was reminded of origami. And while talking to my new favorite gay boy, I arrived at the conclusion that I wanted to do menswear tailoring with my brightly colored fabrics.

So I took out a book on origami, a book on menswear, and a book on Pucci (just for good measure) and I'm trying to work from there.

Here are my favorite results from today's experiments in Heat Transfer Printing:

My original test that inspired my new theme:


A follow-up test using a sheer fabric and overlaying fishnet:


A variation of my colors and print method:


And lastly, I shoved this fabric into what used to be a fishnet stocking, tied it up unto a ball, printed it, squished it in another direction, printed it, took it out of the stocking, squished it and printed it again, and did it once more for good measure:



So, yes... peacock colored origami menswear-inspired womenswear. We'll see how it goes....

New Duvet Report: Warm

While at Sainsbury's my room mate and I bought some heavy-weight duvets because we have both been freezing cold at night. After sleeping under mine last night, I can happily report that I am no longer required to sleep in pajamas and a sweater.

Hooray!

Dinner = NOM NOM NOM

One of my room mates and I made dinner tonight. We baked chicken breasts that I rubbed in olive oil and seasoned with black pepper, chili powder, garlic, rosemary, basil, and lemon salt. We baked them with onions and sticks of seasoned carrots and parsnips.

The chicken was crispy with seasoning on the outside, and perfectly moist on the inside from all the olive oil, and the veggies were amazing! We shared half a bottle of white wine, and enjoyed our 20 minute meal that was delicious and healthy.

Go team!

Early Fabric Tests

Keeping in mind that we were only given bright colors to work with, and the way the fabric dyes paint make it impossible to see what sorts of colors you're working with as you're painting, here are some of my favorite fabric printing experiments:

My favorite:


And then the same thing, printed through fishnet:


A splatter test:


Trying to get a muddier color instead of all bright neons:


One more test, printed on silver lamé:




I donno what I'm doing, and these were all just tests to see how the dyes react, and how the colors blend, and what happens when you print on different fabrics.

But there you go. My first trials in heat transfer dyes. TA DA!

It's Getting Better All the Time....

While I let this paint dry I thought I'd take a moment to catch you up. After a very difficult week, I am pleased to say that I have had a really good couple of days.

We have begun printing on fabric. It's been SO much fun playing around with dyes while we try to get a feel for painting with the intention of printing. Of course the real work is about to begin because we've all been just messing around with the dyes, giggling at the unexpected outcomes of our work. But now we actually have to figure out how to make the medium do what we want, as we begin designing a small collection using our prints.

I've been sketching and painting at home, trying really hard to find the direction I want to start working in. I've had no luck so far. After a meeting with my tutor today I have a better idea, but I still have a long way to go.

Besides the fact that printing on fabric is incredibly fun, it's had a few side benefits as well. Now that we are all working together in the tiny print room, we've started talking and developing relationships with one another. I'm finding that I really get along with quite a few of the other students, and some of the people I thought I'd clash with are turning out to be decent folks who were just as nervous as I was those first couple of weeks.

Thrilled by possible friendships, I am making excuses to invite people out. So, on top of the hours I'll be putting into my project this weekend, my next few days will hopefully be filled with things like attending a fashion lecture at the V&A with two classmates I really like, a trip to a farmer's market with a girl who lives down the street from me, and possibly going to the new Warhol exhibit with this girl I met on.. um... ok I met her on facebook, but she goes to my school. Anyhow, the point is I have a busy weekend ahead of me, and thankfully some of the busy stuff is social.

In the last two days I ordered some shelves from IKEA, found an awesome vintage "rock star" jacket, found three great fabric stores, began teaching myself how to paint, had a bonding moment with a gay boy over trashy drag queeny fabrics, got my first locker in the entirety of my educational history, was asked to design some graphics for my friend's T-shirt startup, and bought myself a printer/scanner that is already going to good use. So I guess, life is busy, expensive, and generally good right now.

I had my mp3 list on random the other day, and the song "La Vida Es Un Carnaval" came on. The lyrics of the chorus can be roughly translated to say "No need to cry, because life is a carnival. It's more beautiful to live it singing...." Maybe it's cheesy, but it kinda picked me up with its lyrics about people never truly being alone in life, and how you could be sure that nothing is going to change, but that things will always get better. Thank you Celia Cruz for a much-needed reminder.

And now I'm off to Sainsbury's with a room mate to buy food and a decent chopping knife. Hopefully this paint will be dry by the time I get back and I can continue working on my project before I go to dinner with another room mate for a drawing date.

Visits

Two friends of mine will be visiting next week. One of them is trying to apply to the program I'm in at St. Martins, and they are looking to move to London. Although most of their time will be spent apartment hunting, I intend to take them out to dinner, a museum or two, and I'm going to speak with my tutors and see if I can have my friend shadow me one day in class. My friend was thrilled at the idea- he really wants to get into CSM and after hearing me talk about how different it is from other schools, he wants to see it for himself.

It will be nice to see a familiar face and get to share a little of my new city with two people who have never been here.

And the day after they leave, my boyfriend shows up for a week of fun, frolic, and other words that begin with "F".

Yeay for visiting!

Remember

When I have nights like tonight where I feel so lost that I cannot see light in any direction, I need to remember that I am in control of my life. And that I define what my life and future will be.

American Politics

And on a much more important topic than my own petty little complaints, this is great. Colin Powell endorses Obama:

Dorm Progression, week 5

To counter the gloomy nature of my last few posts here's a pretty picture or two of my dorm room, as it's slowly getting more livable.

You can see why I need shelving and drawers. It's getting a bit cluttered, and I hate clutter.



I finally got a cheap full length mirror (which I am using to hang bags off of, apparently). I happened to see this mirror for sale in a dodgy shop a few miles down the road from my dorm. I paid the nervous looking man, and carried it for the next couple of hours. First into a Chinese restaurant where I went to dinner, and then carried another mile or two home. It's a well-traveled little mirror.




And I got this wooden box originally to put some light-sensitive things in, but found that storing things in it and using it as a bedside table was much more pragmatic. And this afternoon I stuck some old pictures on it, and a collage I did a few years back on plastic. It's a little dodgy, but better than plain wood.

I'm Such a Fucking Downer

I think perhaps I shouldn't drink.

Not because I can't control how much I drink, but because I relax my tightly wound emotions when I drink. And then I fall to pieces.

"I am fine" is the phrase I keep using whenever someone asks how I am. And it's true, I am fine. But only until I let myself go a little. And then I am miserable.

But it makes no sense. I keep asking myself, "why am I so miserable?" I'm in LONDON for fuck's sake. I am LIVING in LONDON studying at one of the best schools in the world. I wish I could put my finger on exactly what it is that is bothering me so much. If I could figure out exactly what it is, I could go about fixing it. But here I am, so miserable I can't even hold decent conversation.

When I am in a new social situation, I usually put on my "fabulous face" to get me through the nervous moments. But these days I am guarded and nervous, and I hide it by being quiet. Which doesn't lend itself to meeting new interesting people, surprisingly. I'm just so wound up I can barely contain my desperation, and no one wants to be around someone who's desperate. I know I don't.

In short, I am boring because I am depressed.

The worst thing is that I realize I am fucking this up. This should be the most interesting, wild, creative time of my life. I should be out meeting people, doing things, seeing things, having fun. And here I am at home, wasting it by being miserable and lonely. I am so mad at myself! But I can't seem to fix the problem. I don't even know how to go about starting. And I have no one here to help me do it, either. No one to drag me out despite my protests, and force me to have a good time. And I need that right now. I really need it.

Determined to become a more social and independent woman, I planned to go to a pub alone last night. I intended to have a few drinks, meet some new people, and then come home. After dinner my room mates and I had a few glasses of wine while they helped me pick an outfit for my pub crawl. We were discussing boys, sex toys, and generally having a good raunchy girl talk, when suddenly I stopped having fun. They had to go get ready for their own evening plans, and I began to silently freak out.

That's when I saw my boyfriend online and begged him to come see me. I mean, I begged. I became so damn desperate I couldn't control myself. I NEEDED to see him. Of course he couldn't just pop over. The couple of thousand miles between us makes it hard for him to stop by for a few hours on a whim. But I couldn't stop myself from begging him, wishing more than anything in the world that he could magically appear at my door.

This of course put him in the undesirable position of having to say "no" to repeated unreasonable requests. Each time he said it I felt like I was getting punched in the gut. I wanted to throw up. I was so disappointed (even though it wasn't his fault), and right then decided I couldn't stand to live like this anymore. I decided that I was old enough to know that I am putting myself through unnecessary torture, so I made the drunken, grand decision that I would move home after this quarter was over.

And then my boyfriend got pissed at me, and rightly so. He got offline to start his day and let me cool down. Suddenly alone in my panic, I felt even more miserable and hopeless than before. Furious at him, and at myself I went to bed early. No going out for this redhead. My outfit for my planned night was still laid out on my bed when I crawled under the thin quilt to sleep. I found it in a messy pile at the foot of my bed this morning.

It seems I come apart every time I talk to my boyfriend. He is the only person I can talk to with any honesty about how I feel, and he's at the center of most of my feelings about being here. So the poor guy gets to hear all the crap and listen to me break down every few days. He's handling it really well, but I can't keep doing this to him. And I know he's nearing his breaking point with my complaining. I won't be winning any Best Girlfriend of the Year awards, I'm afraid. I'll be lucky to get a Miss Emotional Stability ribbon.

I hesitate to say, "I should be...." because that is a verbal set up for failure. But I should be happy. I should be. I really, really should be. Or at least I should be a little excited, or a little thrilled. But I am finding it hard to live in the moment, and see this opportunity for what it is. All I can focus on is how lonely I am, and how lonely I will continue to be if I can't shake this downer bullshit.

I Can't Shelf the Issue (har dee har)

It is safe to say I am obsessed with finding a way to get some drawers and storage into this dorm room. I tried to reorganize my stuff last night (I don't even have that much stuff here) and it was an exercise in frustration more than anything else.

A trip to IKEA is in order. I've taken measurements, I know what I'm looking for. I just need to go and buy a few things. I need to stop obsessing and solve the problem. I will feel much better when I have a place to put my socks that isn't the same drawer as my paint supplies and computer accessories.

Also, I saw this on A Softer World and it seemed appropriate to my last post. It made me smile.

My Little Pity Party

Self pity is an ugly thing. But it seems I need to indulge in it this evening.

It's Friday night and I am without friends, a boyfriend, or friendly acquaintance to go out with. Going out on my own is far too scary right now because I feel like it's either a recipe for lonely disaster, or a chance to have to deal with men who are trying to pick me up.

That sounds egotistical, but it's not. It's just that being a girl out at night on her own sends out the single girl signal. And while I may be living alone, I am not single. Honestly I don't know how to deal with people approaching me when my long distance relationship is so difficult for me right now. Until I feel comfortable with my love life as it stands, I don't feel good about putting myself out there as "unavailable, but always here by myself, and hi it's nice to meet you".

The other side of this problem is that I think I'm giving off a desperate vibe. I have never before been so goddamn fucking lonely in my entire life. I see people on their cellphones talking to friends to kill time between trains and it makes me so jealous. I have always had people to text or call when I'm out and about. I've had friends that I could rely upon to invite me out every weekend (even though I almost never went) and friends that would almost always wander around thrift stores and cafes with me. And now I can't even figure out how to socialize with people, much less make a friend who I can call to chat with when I'm bored.

Thing is, I have toned my shtick down to the point that I have almost nothing to say because I'm trying to gauge what I CAN say around people here. I am treading carefully. Maybe too carefully. But I am not comfortable here. I feel surprisingly foreign in some ways.

I just want a friend who gets it. I want one person who I can have a drink with, who is going through similar things. I want someone who calls me when they need an ear, or have some free time. I want a friend. I don't think that's too much to ask for.

Let me say that I do love being alone. I really do. But I'm had enough of it for right now. It's Friday night and everyone I know is busy or hanging out with their real friends, and didn't catch my subtle hints about looking for something fun to do tonight. And I am afraid to go out on my own and run into situations that I don't know how to handle. I feel so pathetic. I should be out in London doing new exciting things and meeting new exciting people in new exciting places. And instead I am spending another night at my computer, indulging in a little pity party for myself.

I want to be the kind of person that can have a great time on her own. But I am not there yet. I am too confused, too desperate, and too broke to go out and navigate brand new social waters alone. When I feel this stressed it's hard to find the social balance necessary to be fabulous yet approachable, fun but not flirty, interesting but not showy, and clear about what I want and what my boundaries are.

So instead I will slouch in the chair at my desk while moping about how I have no friends, and generally feel sorry for myself for the rest of the evening...

Food

One of my room mates took pity on me as I microwaved a potato for dinner and made me some bacon and chicken on cheese bread to go with it. Healthy? No. Delicious? Yes. Add a few slices of ripe tomato and I was in food heaven.

However good bacon tastes on a normal day, I can promise you it tastes INCREDIBLE when you haven't eaten real protein in three days.

NOM NOM NOM.


I can't believe we're half way through October. I have almost been here one month. It feels longer. And shorter. And I guess about right, too. Before I know it I will be too busy to think, and then it will be our Christmas break, and I'll be flying back to San Francisco for almost three weeks.

My life is definitely not boring.

Hungry!

I am once again faced with the question of buying paints and supplies for tomorrow's class, or shopping for food. I think I'm opting for paint...

Everyone loves a starving artist, right?

Ew

On my walk home I noticed a parked ambulance across the street, medical personnel hanging out calmly at the back of the vehicle. As I wondered what was going on, I happened to look down at my feet on the sidewalk. I wasn't sure at first what I was looking at, but once it dawned on me I made a point of walking through rain puddles the rest of the way home. See, when I looked down I noticed I was standing in one of many small puddles of human blood left out on the sidewalk. No caution tape, no sign, nothing to alert me that I was about to saunter on through what I'm guessing was a minor crime scene. No notice, just very dark blood pooling in the cracks of the brickwork.

I've never been so glad to walk through dirty rainwater puddles in my whole life.

Art Begins and Inspiration

As of tomorrow I will FINALLY begin an artistic project at CSM. I've felt so bored with my courses until now. I haven't been able to get excited by any of our projects. But now we finally get to begin our first fashion oriented project!

For the next three days we will be doing life drawing from a model(my favorite!) to bring about ideas that will eventually become our first printed design on fabric. And in two weeks, we begin our all white garment design project that results in a fashion show at the end of term. WOOT!

I went out and bought some art supplies just now (I opted for supplies instead of food today. Funny that I am finally in a position where I need to make that decision.) Yesterday I researched some incredible books in our library that have helped me get an idea of the sorts of designs I like on fabric. I also visited some vintage shops over the weekend in an attempt to to train my eye to ONLY look at prints.

I rarely wear prints or patterns so it's been an interesting switch in my aesthetic being in the Fashion and Print program. I LOVE prints, but I've never felt comfortable wearing them... until now. I just made the decision to focus on prints and figure out what I like. So with all this new visual information in my head, I plan to go to class tomorrow and explore all sorts of ideas on paper.

My Amazon.com wishlist now consists of a waffle iron, a frying pan, and these fantastic fashion and print books that inspire me. Take a look if you have any interest in print or fashion design:

Structure and Surface: Contemporary Japanese Textile Design- I LOVE this book. It gave me so many ideas.
Fashioning Fabrics- Again, very cool ideas.
Pattern- Tricial Guild's style is one facet of pattern that I really enjoy- graphic, colorful, ridiculously drag queeny, and ostentacious.
Print in Fashion- I really want this book because it gave me a nice sort of introduction to the idea of pattern in fashion. Which seems silly, but it eased me into the idea.
Adorned in Dreams- I really want to read this book on Fashion Theory. I think the role of fashion in a modern world is fascinating. I'm roughing out an essay on the topic to share with you all sometime soon.

Go forth, look at pretty books and be inspired like I was!

Reading List

So excited to read my new book purchase:

Of course I still have to find the time to finish Tropic of Cancer too...

A Little Lie.... A Little Help, Please?

As the words came out of my mouth I believed them for a moment. "I hate it here," I said quietly before punching the letters into a chat window and hitting Enter.

I don't hate it here. And I am not homesick. But something is making me feel awful right now. I cannot focus. My apathetic attitude is worrying. I just want to float free and ignore life.

The funny thing is, I really don't want to move back to San Francisco. I love London, despite the weather, despite being broke, despite not knowing where I am, or where to go, or how to get there. I love this city and it feels like I was supposed to be here.

But at the same time I feel so lost. Something is missing, or something is wrong. And I don't know what it is, but it's making me toss and turn all night, and walk around feeling drugged all day. It's making me feel like I'm wound too tightly and might explode, yet I can't make myself care about anything all that much. I am hesitant about being too brave. I am excited by feeling terrified. I am miserable and broke and not sure how I'm going to buy groceries and drawing paper tomorrow, but I'm happy and looking forward to classes. I am lonely and desperate for companionship, but happy to be spending so much time in my own head.

I am incredibly confused. How is it possible to be so unhappy and so happy at the same time? How can I love living in London and hate my life here at the same time? What is it that I want and how do I fix whatever it is that is making me so panicked and sad?

What is going on and what the fuck do I do?

It's Not Getting Any Easier

It seems I fall to pieces every time I talk to my boyfriend. I cannot fathom staying here for three years without him, and the situation seems so hopeless that my chest tightens and I feel I can't breathe. It's pathetic, honestly.

I am going through withdrawal from him. And I don't know what is on the other side of the withdrawal. I think I am making myself feel worse in order to ensure that I don't ever feel okay without him, because I'm scared of what that may mean. I think I'd rather need him and be miserable than feel confident on my own and risk feeling disconnected from him. See, I am beginning to wonder if I'm worried that getting over missing him will mean that I am actually getting over him.

I knew that doing a long distance relationship was going to be hard on me, but I had no idea that I would feel such an intensely emotional duality about it. On one hand I am completely fine on my own. I have moments when I am lonely or miss my old friends, but I am also incredibly excited to meet new people and have so much time on my own.

But on the other hand I am a nervous wreck at the same time. I feel both completely fine and utterly panicked. I keep finding myself rushing home immediately after class in hopes that my boyfriend will be awake and online, even if I have nothing in particular to tell him. I am so desperate to feel close to him that I sometimes lose sight of why I am here- for an education at one of the top design schools in the world. And in order to get that education, I need to be incredibly focused on what is going on here, now, with me. And not on him, no matter how much I love him.

So how do I stay connected to someone that is thousands of miles away, while also being independent enough to focus on my own life? How do I maintain a relationship when I cannot reasonably expect my partner to be there with me, or be around when I need him? And how can I find a way to get over my fears, and disconnect from the relationship just enough to allow my focus to be where it should, while staying connected to a man I love?

How the hell do I balance all of this and not drive myself utterly insane in the process?

Oh No!

Oh my god, I just said something to my room mate and pronounced it with a pseudo-English accent. Crap, I'm becoming Madonna...

Country Life

Do I eat Country Life Butter because it's British?

No, I eat it because my room mate happened to have it out and I had to try it....

Hey Ladies

Sitting by my window I just overheard a heavily accented man's voice saying, "hey ladies, you look too good, eh? I show you how to find a husband, yes? Too good, too good!...... Ladies???" Followed by the sound of high heels on pavement disappearing into the distance, quickly.

Maybe he needs to work on his approach tactics, yes?

New Look

I just tried something new, with the help of one of my room mates and her curling iron. I feel this new look suits the Me that's in London much more than my usual ponytail...

Going With the Flow (of Drinks)

It began innocently enough as a trip to the supermarket to buy dinner fixings. But on the way it was suggested that we get a drink at a local pub and scope out the Friday night scene.

My favorite room mate and I found a not-too-busy pub in which we could have a pint (we seemed to favor anything ending in "berg" or "bourg") and observe the Brits in their natural, drunken state. Drink had, dirt shared, boys avoided, we began to head back home to buy groceries and cook dinner. But on the way we passed a little park next to the church that some satanist had designed and decided that we wanted to see this strange structure in the park (it made me feel the need to read From Hell again).

At the entrance of the darkened park a small group of young guys were taking a smoke break. As we passed one of them immediately said, "you two alright? Know your way around and all that?" His friendly tone was warmed by a charming Irish accent. We appreciated his concern, introduced ourselves, and spent a good half hour smoking with Irishmen in a darkened Satanist's church park on a Friday evening.

During our initial search for a good pub, my room mate and I had noted a funny little underground bar that used to be an underground toilet, we think. It looked a little dodgy though, and had avoided it. But turns out our new friends were taking a break from a birthday party being held at that very bar. So a few minutes later my room mate and I were underground, doing tequila shots with cute Irish boys and a very drunk birthday girl (whose name I never did get, oops).

You know you're in England when people comment on how your smile is nice because your teeth are even. Lucky for me that they are, because I smiled a lot that evening as I got progressively drunker and enjoyed the attentions of a number of very sweet boys, while dancing with girls I didn't even know.

Very drunk, and still without dinner, my room mate and I stumbled home around midnight to scavenge for food in the kitchen. I began to eat some yogurt, a piece of ham, and a toaster waffle while she sorted something out with another student in our building. While I was waiting for her I decided that I needed a glass of water to stop my head from falling off my neck. But my Brita filter was all the way in my bedroom. I slowly shuffled down the hall, grabbed the water filter off my desk, and that's when everything changed. See, I spotted my bed. And that tiny little uncomfortable mattress has never looked so good, so welcoming, so comfortable as it did in that moment. I downed the water and collapsed onto my messy unmade bed. Next thing I knew, my room mate was at my side giggling and pulling my boots off.

"Wait, no, I must have stinky feet..." I mumbled.

"I don't care, stupid," she said and pulled my boots off.

"Wait, I have food on the table. I nee-"

"I'll take care of it. Here, drink some water, get some sleep." She handed me a glass of water, kissed my cheek, threw my quilt over me and closed the door.

I mumbled "thank you," as she left, but I don't know if she heard me.


Best. Room mate. Ever.


And so ended my first Friday night drinking in London.


My head hurts...

Better

Someone below outside is whistling "oh my darling clementine" as I type this. I think it might be one of the construction workers. I'm waiting for my room mate so we can go run some fun errands together on this lovely sunny day. I am wearing my new old-man cardigan that makes me want to paint, or discuss literature in smoke-filled bars. I love this sweater.

I had to go into uni for a lecture this morning. A lecture that was really just a 15 minute run-through of a few key points of the course as told to us by the dean. He said nothing terribly interesting, but he did start by congratulating us on getting into one of the most competitive and highly regarded fashion programs in the world. And for some reason that perked me up.

I talked to one of my fellow students after the "lecture" about feeling like I have a lot of catch up to do. She seemed to be a really intelligent woman when I met her a few days ago, and she worked for one of my fashion idols last year, so I really wanted to pick her brain about CSM. She gave me some good perspective on ways to approach education here, and I left feeling a lot more optimistic about my future here in school. I think I'm going to ask her to coffee so I can get to know her a little better. She seems like she's my contemporary (a little older than most of the students) and has lived an interesting life all over the world. She seems like a potential friend, and I really need to find some of those.

So I guess I'm feeling better about things today than I did yesterday. And now, off to run errands...

Exhausted and Slightly Downtrodden

I cannot seem to sleep. I think it has something to do with sleeping alone in a tiny bed after years of being in a queen size bed with someone else. My restless nights are compounded by regular fire alarms in the building at all hours. And then last night a mirror fell off my shelf, smashed into a plate on the desk below and sent my makeup flying around the room, shattering into the carpet. I wanted to go back to sleep, but it wasn't mean to be.

Sound travels down the hallway, and every morning a few of the room mates' more piercing voices find their way to me as they prepare breakfast in the kitchen. Sleeping in rarely happens on planet Redhead, but a little sleep would be nice right about now.

Zzzzzzz five more minutes, Mom....

Anyhow, my summer project presentation was disheartening, to say the least. I knew I hadn't gone all out for it. I knew I could have made presentation boards and painted pretty pictures. But I didn't. I was focused on the emotional havoc caused by moving, and when I arrived here I arrived with no art supplies and no fabric. Art was not high on the to-do list, I'm afraid.

But when most of the class pulled out collaged books of photographs and fabric experiments, followed by books of illustrations and test runs on mannequins, or fully painted renderings and beautiful hand made fabrics they did themselves.... I realized that I really need to step up my game.

I have never before been at the bottom of a class. I've always pulled an easy A, or at least an easy high B. But sitting in this classroom, watching everyone else present their beautiful work and all the research and time and effort they put into it.... I was ashamed to get up there and show my crappy little sketchbook. I turned red, forget everything I wanted to say, made a few excuses, flipped through a couple pages to show my thought process, and stood there to meet the blank, bored stares of my classmates and professors.

"Do I really want this?" I asked myself. "Am I cut out for this?"

And then I asked, "am I really so lazy that I'm not willing to work my way up to the top?" This program is going to be hard for me. I suppose I am used to my work being "pretty good" on average. This program is going to be quite a trial, I think.

I am not so competitive that I need to be the best. But I refuse to be the worst. I have got to pull out all the stops and dive in. I need to do things that are not fun or easy for me. I need to establish that I am not the lazy American girl that presented a shitty project the first day of class. I cannot let that first impression last. My next project has to be amazing. It has to be fucking incredible.

But on the bright side, I suppose I have nowhere to go but up. If you start at the bottom, your progress is more noted, more obvious. If you start at the bottom, you have the opportunity to blow them out of the water someday when they least expect it.

So I guess I just need to stop distracting myself and focus. Focus entirely on my courses, and not on running home to chat online, or wandering around high street looking for a jacket and a pretty lamp. From here on out, if there is any chance that I could reach higher and push myself harder, I need to do it. I need to focus on school. I did not come here to sit around online like I did back home.

And I need to get some sleep.

G'nite.

If a Woodchuck Could Chuck Wood.....

Today on the tube I saw a girl eating a bag of crisps. Only they were shaped like chips. But they were clearly crunchy, and thusly could not be considered chips. The bag said French Fries on it, but they were made in England. So was she eating crispy chips, or chip-shaped crisps?

Oh Toto......

You know how I know I'm not at an American university? My school's library has a whole section devoted to porn and studies on it. It's right next to the crime/rape section, and directly across from fashion, around the corner from sociology.

I Am Not One of You, Even Though I Am

Being an American in a foreign country seems to attract two types of people. One is the kind of person that is just as excited to meet new people from other parts of the world as I am. The other kind I seem to attract is other Americans.

I have heard that Americans are seen as this cliquish group that doesn't socialize well, and now I see why. I have been making a point of talking with people from all over the world- I mean, if you're not eager, or at least willing to do that, why come all the way here? What is up with the "you're American? I'm American, let's be best friends!" attitude?

I think that some people assume that because I dye my hair a certain way, I am a certain kind of person. But I am not that girl. I dress in a lot of weird ways and dye my hair red (and black, and blonde, and brown, and burgandy, and....). I listen to everything from Billie Holiday to Gary Numan to SiSe to The Beatles, and generally lean towards the indie kid scene more than anything else.

I might be an American in London, but I am not looking to meet Americans while I'm here. I can do that in America, thanks.

Evening Walk

I wandered around one rainy night and took a few photos. Most of them were blurry because I have an unsteady hand and my camera hates non-flash photography. But I liked these two...

The Fun Begins....

It all began when I received my sewing machine in the mail. After finding that a few things arrived broken in a previous box, I decided that it would be wise to take a break from my homework and unpack the machine to make sure it was in working condition. Worst. Decision. Ever.

I find an adapter for the US plug and attempt to turn the sewing machine on. POW! All the electricity in my room goes out. Normally I would just go find the fuse box and flip a switch, but our switches are behind locked doors, so I had to find someone who had a key.

The Senior Resident on call was a very sweet girl named Lauren. We opened every single locked door in the flat , and after we had no luck finding my room's fuse box, I suddenly had a thought. Remember that "potentially problematic door" I posted a photo of? I asked her if the fuse box for my room might be outside in the fire escape area. Turns out I was right... But this suggestion of mine kicked off a series of discoveries that led to an interesting night for the whole flat.

When Lauren tried to unlock the "potentially problematic" fire door we realized that the lock had been broken, and that the door has been open to the outside world this whole time. All my jokes about setting up a lounge area in the room off of the fire escape? They weren't funny any more because we found that our unlocked fire door had left our flat open to anyone in our building. Adding to the sudden feeling of discomfort was compounded by the fact that it seemed a lot of other people knew they could get up here and took advantage of it.

When Lauren and I (followed by my flat mates, many of whom were awakened by the noise) went out into the hallway to flip my fuse switch, we found that someone decided that our indoor fire escape was a good place to do some spray paint artwork. The ghost of spray painted 11x17 papers in various colors littered the carpeting. Our mystery artist even left a can of red paint and their latest creation drying on the floor in front of my fuse box.

We turned the corner and found that someone had been smoking on our steps, and left us a little mess to clean. (Last week, many of us commented that our hallway smelled of smoke. Now we know why.)

It was midnight by now, and this whole situation would have looked very funny if it weren't for one problem. All this "vandalism" was done outside out top floor flat, so it of course would appear that WE did it. The fine for something like this is a few hundred quid, minimum.

But the only problem we could deal with at midnight was my lack of electricity. Now that we'd found my fuse box, we flipped the switch. Nothing happened. We did it again, and waited. Still nothing. Phone calls were made, drama ensued, but when the overhead light popped back on in my room, there was great rejoicing in the camp! Everyone shuffled back to their rooms, I thanked Lauren profusely, offered to buy her a bottle of wine for her trouble, and settled down to complete my homework.

Before she left Lauren promised to talk to the building owners on our behalf regarding the mess and mysterious broken lock (and hopefully get it fixed so we aren't giving everyone free access to our flat).

All was well it seemed. That is until I found that despite my overhead light working, all my electrical sockets were still completely dead.

I called Lauren again, very apologetically, and we began searching for the mystery switch that would turn my power sockets back on. The noise of Lauren and I talking alerted all the room mates that something was up, and soon they were all awake and gawking at the cigarettes and spray paint.

My room mates were understandably of freaked out about the unlocked fire door, and tempers were rising about the mess. But none of this was as pressing a concern to me as the fact that nothing seemed to be turning my power sockets back on. With everyone's permission, Lauren and I shut off the main power to the whole flat. Sitting in the dark hallway, lit only by emergency lighting, what could you do but laugh at the situation? "Wow, you broke the flat the first day of school," someone said to me. Heh, whoops.

It was 12:30 or so, and I was getting a little punchy. I was finding that my concern about not having power was slowly being outweighed by concerns about the fines that we would have to fight when the building managers found out about the mess our mystery friends had made.

All the girls seemed to be getting progressively more upset about the spray paint on the floor. The lovely piece of artwork that our mysterious artistic friend had left to dry seemed to be egging them on. I think a few of the girls were feeling very exposed and victimized, what with the door to our flat unlocked and broken. So I decided to do something that would make us all feel in control again, and redirect our collective anger back to the place where it should have been. I grabbed a dark marker....



... and let them know that we were somewhat annoyed.



I really hope the artist comes upstairs looking for their paint cans and art piece soon.

I guess my punchiness had rubbed off on everyone because as soon as I emerged from my room with a pen announcing my intentions, my flat mates grabbed their cameras to record me being what was later termed "the flat's guard bitch" and "the mean one" and "the girl who starts shit". (It was suggested that they get me a "guard dog on duty" sign for my door. "Why not just put a nice big welcome mat outside our unlocked fire escape door?" I had said. "What, so you can beat up anyone who comes through?" they'd giggled.)

We never did get my power turned back on. I am writing to you now on battery power while the wine buzz wears off. At 1:00am we ended the evening with a lot of shrugging, and a "who needs wine and cookies?!" comment that brought about, well, wine and cookies.

So maybe I started some shit with the people below us. But you know what? Fuck them. I am pissed that their actions might cause a very expensive fight with the building owners. I am completely prepared to follow this through, too. If the people downstairs want to fuck with us, the flat's "guard bitch on duty" is happy to confront them. In fact, I suppose I already have. And the whole mess will be reported by a Senior Resident who was there to witness the situation and who took photos of the whole thing. Let the fun begin...

If all goes well, an electrician will show up tomorrow around 8am to fix my room's power. And maybe the door to our flat will be locked before anyone can try to retaliate for my little note. (Hm, maybe I should have considered that before I wrote on their artwork, hm?)


...you know, I never did get this homework done....

First Day of "Classes", Sorted.

I just got in from my first day at Uni (which is what they call university here, by the way), where I had my first class! Well, it wasn't really a class. I'm not quite sure what today was honestly. An introduction class, I guess. And I'm not quite sure what sort of "classes" I have either.... or if they are classes. They certainly aren't referred to as "classes" on my schedule. My schedule looks like I have one class a week, followed by an odd series of tutor-led open labs. But I think the open labs are mandatory? I'm not sure. If they are, I have classes every day of the week. Which is unusual, as every other student I live with has class no more than three days a week. I guess I'll just go with the flow and see what happens.

Today I showed up at 10am and received a packet of paperwork with my course schedule. I sat around talking to these two really cool girls from China and South Korea, and I met a really cool girl from London too. She is as tall as me (I'm 5'11"), also a Virgo, and has what seems to be a good head on her shoulders. She and I got along immediately.

The room full of fashion students suddenly went quiet when the heads of our departments gathered us into a group to introduce themselves. The three people who are in charge of my program seem REALLY cool. We were then split up into our programs (my program has about 25 people or so) and we got a quick tour of the rooms we'll be using.

The CSM building that I'll be centered in is perfect. It's old, full of stairways and odd back alleys, and made of brick and painted wood. All over there are huge dirty windows, and hallways with bright white walls and heavy doors, and it is incredibly confusing to get around in. It looks and feels exactly the way an art school should. I love it.

The tour over, we were told come back to get our first group project briefing at 4:15. It wasn't even 11am yet. I asked my new tall friend if she wanted to get a cup of coffee, and we ended up spending the next 5 hours together wandering around Soho so she could show me some of her favorite clubs while we talked about art, schooling, boyfriends, fashion, religion, our families, and what we want to get out of our time at university.

At 4:15 all 25 of us were shuffled into a little room where we were arranged into groups of five and given a briefing on our first group research project. It is a pretty simple project. Really it's just an excuse to meet new people, use the school library, and get us all back up to speed on what student life is going to be like. I have some nice girls in my group, we all exchanged info and plan to meet tomorrow after a stupid 10am "safety and rules" lecture. (One of the girls asked me if I was American. I said yes, and that I was from San Francisco, which seemed to surprise her. Then she said, "you don't seem to be American. You don't have a terrible American accent or anything. You sound very international to me." I was flattered, and told her so.)

As we were getting our project brief, the guy who is one of the head tutors in my department talked about projects. He told us something about how we are graded and then said, "it's not like your marks really matter though. But, you do want to make sure you get the mark you deserve, right? This course is more about being graded on your own progress anyhow..." Shock! And relief! And more shock! A TEACHER just said that our grades aren't the most important thing!?!? What the....??? Wow.

To have the freedom to try crazy things, safe in the knowledge that is okay if your ideas don't turn out... I have always wanted that. It is both terrifying and exhilarating. It sounds like CSM is the type of place that encourages you to reach incredibly high, even if you are going to fail miserably, because your grades are largely based upon your own personal progress. They seem to want to ask you how far you are willing to step outside of what is comfortable and easy for you.

This could be an amazing school for me...

So all in all I think it was a successful first day! I met some new people and got a sense of what my next ten weeks are going to be like. Still not sure about "classes", but I sort of don't care right now because I am incredibly excited! I am nervous as well. But mostly I am excited!


I also need to finish this summer homework project tonight since it's due on Wednesday and someone waited until the last minute to do it....*ahem*

So off I go to draw skinny women in unrealistic clothing....


Ta ra!

Stinky

By the way, nothing starts the day off right quite like having no running water in the building. Perhaps I should just strip and go run in the lovely rain outside. Ahhhhh, England!

Johnny Rotten Does Butter

What the...?

I Miss Him

As I watched my boyfriend on webcam choose a Tshirt to wear today, I was struck by how much I miss the little things about being with him. I miss the routine of our mornings, especially the ones where he dragged me out of bed before I convinced him to snuggle for "just 5 more minutes....zzzz". I miss how he always grabbed me around the waist when I was putting my makeup on in the mirror. Or just being around him while he put on socks and boots and packed up his laptop to go to work.

I miss making breakfast with him (on mornings that my "5 more minutes" hadn't made us too late to eat). And I miss our regular Sunday brunches. I miss how he used to wake me up on Sunday mornings when he came over to my place by climbing into bed for a few minutes, and how he'd often pass out while spooning me and sleep long after I'd gotten up to shower and dress.

I miss his appreciative looks whenever I was dressed in something cute, and how he was the best clothing shopping partner ever. (I hate shopping for myself, but he was SO good at finding things that look great on me. And in turn, I was great at shopping for him.) I miss the starved-child-looking-at-a-sumptuous-meal stare I got from him whenever I wandered around in my underwear trying to decide what to wear. I always made fun of it, but I really do miss feeling like someone appreciates me as a whole package, even after many years. And he knows me too well, really. He's seen me at my worst. Many times. And he still likes me... I miss that.

I miss our particular brand of awful humor. (I guess I should say humour now, hm?) I miss our excellent taste in food. I miss how he always wanted me to watch movies that were possibly too scary for me. Most of the time they weren't, but I was always sure they would be.

I just miss him. It makes me want to move home I miss him so much sometimes.

It's Saturday night and I am home working on this summer homework project. Tomorrow is Sunday and I didn't even notice until just now. Sunday used to be my favorite day of the week because it was the day I got to see my boy all day long with no interruptions. But now Sunday means nothing to me, really. I wish I had something to look forward to tomorrow.... I wish he would come over and crawl into bed next to me for an hour before we would go out in search of waffles and bacon and mimosas....

Potential

So my dorm flat feels very much like a hospital. It is not a happy or welcoming place. This is our hallway:

We have all lamented the fact that the only hang out space we have is our pathetic little kitchen in the middle of the flat.

This evening (perhaps fueled by entirely too much wine with dinner) I had a thought as I walked to my room. See that green fire exit sign in the photo above? It points to a door that opens to a hallway to a fire escape. I pass that door every day and never before noted the fact that there is a little room off of the hallway.



Hmmmmmmmmmmmm........

Yes, we would get into all sorts of trouble if anyone found out. But it could be full of a shag rug and a coupla bean bags and, like, a lava lamp, dude. I mean, come on, it wouldn't even be in the way of the hallway to the fire exit, so it's not dangerous...

However, that green key-like thingamy on the door is potentially problematic as none of us know if it will set off the fire alarm. But being the bad person I am, I might find myself consulting the flat mates before trying it just to see what happens.

Or maybe I shouldn't drink so much.

Dorm Progression, week 2

Ok it hasn't been exactly two weeks yet, but I had a moment of artsy craftsy clever-ness and wanted to share the cuteness that is now my window covering:

"But wait," you say, "you are not allowed to put up curtains or hang anything on walls!" You would of course be right, and this is where my arsty craftsy-ness came into play. As I was drifting off to sleep last night I had an idea about how to hang some fabric over my window. I happened to find that red scarf at a vintage shop today and the whole thing came together a few minutes ago. (I also found the awesome/hideous/fabulous scarf that is hanging over my chair at the same store.)

I pulled some thick elastic very tightly across the wooden frame of the window and put a snap into the two ends to keep it in a nice tight loop, thus giving me a way to hang some fabric over the elastic band. I can also tie the scarf up in the middle with some ribbon I happen to have, giving it a nice draped look that lets more light through.

And now I'm sitting at my desk enjoying the warm toned light coming through the scarf while I refine some of the sketches I did in my new favorite local coffee shop.

Go me!

In Theory...

In theory this is my plan for today:

Get out of the house
Draw in a cafe and get some work done
Look for a desk lamp
Find a place to fax something to the united states
Shop for foods (as I currently am down to a potato and a jar of peanut butter)
NOT buy shoes or boots instead of food or lamp <---that's the hardest one.

but they're pretty! And cute with dresses and tights!

Laziness or Lonliness

Low key day. I should be out, but I feel kinda shitty.

I've been working on my homework but I'm feeling a mite distracted and bored.

I got some mail today that was the second (and third) super extra annoying customs charge for a box I shipped. All in all, they've charged me an additional £250 or so for three boxes on top of the shipping fees I paid in the US. Is that trashy to talk about money? I don't care right now, I'm too annoyed to be classy about it.

It feels like I've been here longer than ten days. I suppose they have been very full days, though. Still, I wish I had more things sorted out. A real cell phone for example instead of this crappy thing I have. Or some storage in my room. Or the homework finished. Or a few more friends made. I feel like I've wasted my time here, somehow.

I really wish I had more friends. Loneliness is on the fringes of my psyche, closing in. I keep it at bay by leaving my door open to hear the sounds of my room mates, keeping my window open so I can hear street noise, and being online whenever I'm home. I start up conversations with people, but they never go anywhere. "Weird American," they must be thinking. And I've found that a little retail therapy hasn't hurt either. But when it comes down to it, I am desperate for companionship of some kind.

I feel sort of pathetic that it's only taken me 10 days or so before I've started to notice a need for other people. I was really hoping I'd find my own independent nature here. Maybe I have in some ways. No, I know I have in some ways. But I still crave a social life.

I'd like to think that I'll feel a little better if I get a big chunk of this homework assignment out of the way. But maybe it isn't the best thing for me to be sitting alone in my dorm room drawing all day.

The Mundane, and Something Exciting

Now that some of the adrenaline fueled excitement of the move has worn off I am faced with the realities of day to day living in a new city. It's amazing how much mental work is involved in setting up life from scratch.

I never realized how much I relied upon my friends with cars, and the occasional taxi until now. San Francisco is a small enough city that I could trust that a $15-20 cab ride could get me from one side of the city to the other. But London is anything but small- 7x7 this aint. Today I am faced with questions like "how do I get from one place to another when I have to carry a very heavy, awkward box all the way across the city?" for example.

I spent last night drawing and trying to get some ideas for my summer homework assignment. In case I haven't mentioned this before, I am sketching a mini collection based upon my most potent summer experience- having my wisdom teeth pulled while I was awake. I have some interesting ideas on paper, but my scribbles are probably incomprehensible to anyone but me. If anything good comes out of this assignment I'll post them here for you to see.

However in the midst of all this boring blathering, I do have some very exciting news! My boyfriend bought his tickets to come see me in early November! WEEEEEE! He will be here for a week, and I will get to show him the sights around town, and generally ignore all but the most important things at school that week. The weather will be crappy, but I can't wait to show him all the cool stuff I've seen!

It will be so good to see him. I talk to him online most days, but it's not the same and being able to touch him, or feel his presence next to me while we go about our day. I feel very lonely sometimes, and waste a lot of idle time online hoping he'll be on. Just seeing the little green "online" dot next to his screen name makes me feel a little better. A little. Obviously it can't compare to warm skin against yours as you drift off to sleep each night.

And now I should go get my day started. I'm being lazy this morning because I can be and because I have no schedule right now. *yawn*

Happiness

Happy: walking past my local strip club and hearing Goldfrapp's "Happiness" playing loudly from the open door.