how long before the right one?

how not to chat me up:

man: i like your fringe. quite 80s though.
cia: umm... ok
man: thats ok though, i remember the 80s.
cia: yeah? i dont.
man: you dont seem surprised that i remember the 80s.
c: im not.
m: where are you from?
c: canada.
m: really? you dont sound canadian.
c: how should i sound?
m: well canadians sound like americans... you sound like you could be from any european country and just learned english.
c: uhh, nope, only speak english.
m: well dont worry, youll find yourself someday.
c: excuse me?
m: youll find the ability to speak to any type of person.
c: yeah, right... cheers.

what a cunt.

i will love you better

i'm not sure where to begin or how best to explain the two weeks i spent with andrew. i finished my exams the night before his arrival, and had recently received a sizeable bursary sum from the univeristy of toronto... so things couldn't really be better. he got off the plane and we basically headed straight south to brighton for the great escape festival, where our first destination was the sussex university rez of our couchsurfing host tom, a first year self-proclaimed anarchist, who showed us to our foam mattress at the foot of his bed, before taking us for a jaunt around brighton, and showing off his skill at not paying train fare. he turned out to be a stand-up guy, pretty much gave us his room, introduced us to his hodge podge of bong-wielding, non-armpit shaving roommates, and sent us off with a wine-soaked discussion of the couch-surfing experience.

The festival and brighton itself were fantastic. it's pretty much impossible to explain. here are some pictures from the beach:

and here are my photos from the daytime secret maccabees gig i won tickets to... the highlight for me. god i love them.

we saw loads of other bands, including, danananakroyd, black lips, lyrebirds, veils, british sea power, metronomy, the soft pack and flash guns. we left with a few bruises, very little sleep, a lot less money, and a shocking amount of mud all over my clothes

roll with it

i encountered three people that really made my night yesterday. First, was the bus driver who took me to work. i saw the bus coming and started running for it, and when i got on, he gave me the funniest smile and a wink as if to say: "don't worry... i'm on your side." the whole way he kept announcing major stops like it was a first class train coach... really getting into it. then, i got off the back door of the bus, and passed him as i walked, and and he grinned and opened the door for me again as a joke. it actually made me laugh.

the second person i saw while on the bus. we were stopped for a while to "regulate the service", and from the upper deck i could see below a girl, probably a bit younger than me, dressed indie but modest, with short black hair. she was hugging her bag and nervously looking in all directions, and smoking a cigarette like it was oxygen. every now and then she crossed herself a few times and said hail marys or whatever it is that catholics do, and then went back to nervously eyeing the people around her. she looked so sad, but i couldn't take my eyes off her. i thought about how she would look good on film, but then it would just look like a cheesy art student's attempt at being avant garde. or else, it could be a blockbuster movie, and if i'd be the boy that would run down and kiss her and make all her dreams come true.


the third person came into my bar, long after the happy hour punters had scattered... he was probably in his forties, real rough-and-tumble looking kind of guy, with a noel-gallagher-circa-early-nineties haircut and a bright patterned shirt. he was very cheerful and in a thick geordie accent asked me if i was irish. he was visiting london from newcastle, and was very pleased to hear that i liked london. he liked it too, even though many people don't-- "but of course," he said smiling, "it's what you make of it."

with toothpaste kisses and lines...

i'll be yours and you'll be...

not really the type of thing that i like to do with my time

i just found a cure for homesickness:

or, for a more comprehensive view, check out eye weekly's coverage: http://www.eyeweekly.com/fpLarge/video/59475

all hail hogtown.

dogs wearing hats and jackets

i. am. going. in. sane. please find help.

tell your parents i'm a nice guy

i haven't written in a while, partly because my computer's been out of commission for the past two weeks. it will be restored to me tomorrow, but then my mom and brother will be here, so i'll be missing in action again for another fortnight. looking forward to it, though a bit apprehensive... this weekend will be entertaining and sightseeing all day, and working all night, on blistered feet which have yet to heal from last weekend's experiment in wearing sexy london-girl high heels. my verdict: partial credit. apart from that, this past week involved seeing the video nasties play, a ramble in hyde park, and an education in geordie accents. alright? alreet.

dear catastrophe waitress

i've been picking up some extra shifts at work lately because i need the money.  this includes some closing shifts, which are basically night shifts.  it's a bizarre feeling to go to work before sunset and leaving after sunrise... apart from a 20 minute break, i feel like i missed the night. 

why anyone would come to party at my bar, i'll never know, but time and again they do.  the 'club' tends to consist of a bunch of shark-y loooking guys eyeing the few drunk young things who had the ill-luck to stumble in, as well as a hodge-podge of sort of business and older types who think this is a cool place to party.  the dj plays a really typical set list every week of crowd-pleasers and club hits, which never fails to excite.  watching drunk old people dance is like watching a really bad movie... you almost can't believe you're seeing something so ridiculous.  it sort of makes me want to rethink my own habits... because it's highly unlikely i look good when i dance, which means i possibly look really, really bad.  just before closing last night, an absolutely wasted 40-something year old woman with a younger guy decided to take her top off in the bar.  that was pretty priceless.  after the set, (the last songs being "don't look back in anger", "time of your life", and "closing time") the dj, whom i'd never met, started railing on about the "fucking disgusting old bird", which made me laugh quite a lot, but as he went on, i realized the dj was a horribly miserable person, which i attributed to his dj career being so much less than he dreamed it would be.  patrons of a place like that, or anywhere for that matter, have one perception of it, and once the lights turn on and everyone clears out, everyone takes off their happy faces.  i'm at an advantage perhaps, because i never had one, evident by the fact that everyone's always telling me to 'smile', because i look too 'serious'.  but, as i've tried to explain many times, my normal face is serious and a bit sullen;  not only that, but i'm trying to channel this image, which appears to me whenever the bar clears and i see my own reflection in the mirror:

she probably makes better cosmos than me though.

i'm addicted to electric pulses

i love the rough trade record shop. but i have a shy crush on it... i pop in now and then to awkwardly say hello, listen to a record, and run out again, feeling upset with myself for never sealing the deal. baby steps. someday i hope we'll be friends... maybe more?

http://www.roughtrade.com/

life outside the diamond is a wrench

Elope with me Miss Private and we'll sail around the world
I will be your Ferdinand and you my wayward girl
How many nights of talking in hotel rooms can you take?
How many nights of limping round on pagan holidays?
Oh, elope with in private and we'll set something ablaze--
A trail for the devil to erase

I had a lovely time in Barcelona.

well, love does furnish a life

i was walking down oxford street street yesterday and overheard this lover's spat:

(man cranes his neck to check out a passing woman)
woman: eh! come off it daniel!
man: wot?
woman: you're wanderin' round like a lovesick puppy, 'avin a look a' every blutty gell that walks by!
man: (shrugs) window shopping, in'it?

here's another song about a gender i'll never understand

For the past few saturdays at my work, there has been a 'workshop' in the basement bar for men trying to learn how to date women. Apparently, it's very expensive (600 pounds or so?), but also very thorough-- from getting her number to fingering techniques.... i fucking wish they made a take-home video. the whole concept makes me think of tom cruise's character in magnolia. this clip has my favourite line in it.



but these guys aren't quite that misogynistic... they're actually just a little sad. there is a bushy haired-man who runs the workshop who orders their dinners from me and is always very charming and polite. i'm really fascinated by someone who runs this kind of business, and wonder if he was once a totally insecure guy who couldn't get laid, but is now a believer in the program, or if he considers himself to be a successful ladies' man, and started the program to impart his wisdom on others. they also have sexy woman working with them who i think they do role-playing with... i was going downstairs to get ice, and i heard her (very authoratatively) say "no no no, guys! you're supposed to be saying 'i want you NOW... in my bed.'" i almost died.

but none of these guys are even that bad looking or anything, i mean, perhaps they're lacking in social skills... but i really hope i'm never that desperately alone. with my track record since i've been here though, it's entirely possible. i mean, it's a bit hypocritical to say, because i have rejected my fair share of pleasure-seeking gomos... and i have no idea what it is i actually want... but, like most girls, i'm never opposed to a little harmless flattery. seriously, most of the time when i'm at a bar, i'm just waiting, raw as an onion, for mr. right to come over and offer to buy me a drink. no instruction required.

i'm not as sad as dostoevsky

Maggie rushed away, that her burst of tears, which she felt must come, might not happen till she was safe up-stairs. They were very bitter tears: everybody in the world seemed so hard and unkind to Maggie: there was no indulgence, no fondness such as she imagined when she fashioned the world afresh in her own thoughts. In books there were people who were always agreeable or tender, and delighted to do things that made one happy, and who did not show their kindness by feeling fault. The world outside the books was not a happy one, Maggie felt: it seemed to be a world where people behaved their best to those they did not pretend to love, and that did not belong to them. And if life had no love in it, what else was there for Maggie?
[...]
Maggie in her brown frock, with her eyes reddened and her heavy hair pushed back, looking from the bed where her father lay, to the dull walls of this sad chamber which was the centre of her world, was a creature full of eager, passionate longings for all that was beautiful and glad; thirsty for all knowledge; with an ear straining after dreamy music that died away and would not come near to her; with a blind, unconscious yearning for something that would link together the wonderful impressions of this mysterious life, and give her soul a sense of home in it.

No wonder, when there is contrast between the outward and the inward, that painful collisions come out of it.

well, not until the next time

word to the wise: don't leave your large floral-printed school bag at your feet while you eat cookies in a coffee shop, pretending to be reading about ancient rome, but really just staring at the cute boys sitting in the window... some snake will probably steal that bag. then you'll embarass yourself in front of said boys while you jump up and freak about your missing bag. if you're lucky though, the thief will discard your library books and granola bars, (having a natural aversion to wholesome things) and only take your wallet and all of its contents.

my measly tips from last week... i hardly knew ye.

i travelled to a mystical time zone

It's springtime.

i had a nightmare and you were in it

i think i might be too lazy to write a new post... so i may just cut and paste a message i drunkenly wrote to some friends the other night.

ok... i have to relate this story to you guys, because it's just too funny to me...so, i saw the rakes play a really small pub show tonight, and it was amazing... like i was as close as you could possibly be, and they played a great set, mix of new and old, and i felt i was one of the few people who had actually heard the forthcoming album, which isn't released for another month (thanks drew)... and i kept making eyes with the two guitarists, which made me feel good. unfortunately, i was alone, and as much as i wanted to stay afterwards because it was a cool place, i felt like a big loner loser. as i was walking down the street though, i saw the one guitarist walking with a box of wine, and i said "great set", and he geniunely smiled and said, in true british fashion, "thanks, cheers!" i liked that. anyway, so i met up with my roommates, who were going to this very posh, members-only club to which ena knows the door manager, so that's how we manage to get on the list. i'd been there before with them when krystal was here, and quite honestly i hate the place, because it's lame, and all the people in it are lame, and it just seems like a stupid place to flaunt how rich you are, and everyone there knows i'm not. also, it's supposed to be a celebrity hangout, but i'd never seen anyone and couldn't see how anyone cool would want to be there. did i mention that the drinks are all about $20 each? they are. but anyway, upstairs the music isn't half bad, and there just happened to be two cool-looking guys there (the only ones in the club), and they looked just as bored as me, and, being a little tipsy and bored myself, i decided to go over and point this out. they agreed, and we started chatting. here is an abridged version of the conversation that followed:

cia: so what are you doing in this place?
cute man: well, i'm staying upstairs... i was here for the nme awards.
cia: oh, cool, was it fun?
cm: yeah, it was.
(awkward pause)
cia: so... are you in a band or something?
cm: yeah.
cia: what band?
cm: uh, well, we're called mgmt.
cia: ...oh fuck. ummm...did you win anything?
andrew from mgmt: yeah, i think best international band, and single of the year.
cia: oh fuck.
(two girls walk over, one pretty, one fat, sit on the guys' laps, and they all proceed to ignore me)
cia (to emma): well, it looks like i just got shafted, and one of them is fat.
emma: well, one of them is peaches geldof, and the other is her best friend.
cia: oh fuck.

so, as it turns out, there were some celebrities there. and as usual, regardless of where i am, my life is just a long sequence of one embarassing moment after the other. god forbid someone cool should ever willingly talk or flirt with me, i just get assholes grabbing my ass iin the tube, and a guy telling me i look cool.. "like jack nicholson". what kind of compliment is that? i guess i should have had a rich dad. anyway, it is still fun in the end, and makes for good stories... but i really do miss you guys.

hope you're well,
love always,
cia

unbilotitled

oh, and graham coxon was there too.

how can they be tired of england?

I haven't posted since before my birthday, which is about a month ago now. i could have foreseen that i would lose interest in the thing, and to be honest, i feel kind of like a narcissist in assuming that people want to read about my daily life, but then again, i'm sure i could find lots of other reasons to qualify me for that title. So let's go back a bit... I know that on my birthday weekend i went on something of a 3-day bender and came out pretty worse for wear, both in body and finances-- although i seem to recall that it was fun. the monday afterwards was actually my birthday, and i still hadn't recovered, and spent actually kind of a dismal day at school. i met with kate after class for a birthday dinner and drinks, but i remember feeling so sick, and ordering such a shit dinner, that i only really enjoyed the company. i also tripped and fell in a pothole... welcome to being 22. ah! it comes back to me now... actually it was a nice evening, and after parting with kate, i just caught the train from egham (lucky, since it only comes every half-hour), and had a good playlist all set up on my ipod which only enhanced my tipsy good-spirits as i gazed out the train window. (looking out the window on trains being one of my favourite pastimes). Then i think i dipped into a bottle of wine at home to continue my mood, and when asked by irene online how my birthday was going, i replied "drinkin' wine and feelin' fine", to which she said "that's my girl." it was a little weird being away from everyone and made me feel a bit homesick-- in fact it didn't really feel like a birthday at all-- but i have lots of things to be thankful for and look forward to at the moment, so i didn't really mind.

after that i remember i got incredibly sick with some sort of bronchitis-like ailment. it got steadily worse all week, and yet somehow (i think out of desperation after realizing how much money i had spent in the last month), i mustered the strength to drag myself to a job interview at a bar in the west end. to my dismay when i got there, there were about 30 other people all vying for the job, and i had to wait in line for over an hour, coughing and feeling like i was going to pass out the whole time, and seriously considering walking out. and miraculously... despite having no restaurant or bar experience... i was hired as a bartender, with about 6 others. hallelujah! employment. still sick, i attended training, the second session of which lasted 11 hours, and saw me thrown behind the bar at friday night happy hour, an accursed time when all the throngs of city businessmen descend upon the local watering holes and order massive rounds of draught beer with weird syrup/lemonade variations which i've never heard of, and cocktails which i have no idea how to make, and the like. but surviving that, i've now worked a few shifts there, and am surprisingly kind of enjoying it. it's not the fun kind of bar where you get to wear trampy clothes and chat with cute boys and get drunk at the end of the night, but the people are nice, and it goes by really quickly, and i get unlimited fountain pop with ice! in england? imagine.

that weekend (Jan 31 i believe), Krystal arrived from Toronto. I was still sick, but really excited for the week ahead. We packed it full of drinking, shopping, sightseeing and eating... although not in that order, because eating and drinking always took precedence. as a result i'm still feeling like i've retained a little bit around the midsection... not helped by the fact that i don't really exercise, and still eat prettily heartily. going to have to work on that one. but anyway, krystal and i, despite fears of snow-trouble-- oh shit-- i didn't mention the snow--- ok well basically, all of england got about 20 cm of snow, and london shut down for the day. no transit was running, buses, trains, tubes, planes, everything. most things were closed because 6.4 million people didn't go to work. so basically it was like a mass snow day-- and despite the news making it seem like the city was in a panic, i've never seen so many happy people in my life. we went to the park with my roommates, and had to arm ourselves with snowballs because of snow-ball wielding attackers around every corner. this blew krystal and my minds, but was a really fun game. there were snowmen everywhere, and we built one of our own, but i have to say, despite the energy, krystal and i just couldn't get that excited about snow, and made our way to a packed pub for mulled wine. now that's a good day.

snow day

so anyway, since nothing had been flying out monday, we were worried about catching our flight tuesday, but we were really lucky and it all went off without a hitch, and we met some uncommonly nice people along the way, who were only too eager to help us and show us around, for... get this... NOTHING in return. krystal and i were both shocked by this, which leads me to believe that there are actually some truly nice, unselfish people in the world, and we are not among them. if you'd like to find them, try ireland. i'm not sure i can labour into the particulars of that journey at the moment... i think the best part for me was when we went to the crypt of the christ church and saw a mummified cat and rat who had gotten stuck in the organ, "presumably one chasing the other." i'm still pretty amused by that. that evening, we endeavoured to get very drunk, and started with an uncommonly expensive dinner (dublin is way more expensive than even london, somehow), and i tried stilton cheese on a burger, thinking this was very english and adult of me. but i couldn't eat it, because i was convinced it tasted like a barnyard. i'm not as refined as i thought, obviously. as we were told that we were in the "drunken party" section of dublin, we were very eager to partake. but we found only touristy irish pubs, with virtually no one our age. at one point, krystal and i began flattering ourselves when we noticed a group of young, semi-attractive guys noticeably directing their attentions at us. when one finally approached us, it turned out he only wanted a picture of krystal's red hair for their "collection". we refused, and i proceeded to tease krystal about her freak-ishness all night. dejected and bored and not nearly drunk enough, we even considered trying the dubious sounding "club m" for kicks... until we happened upon a sort of cheesy rock bar, which looked ok. we ordered a bottle of house wine and sat down to watch the classic rock cover band "white chocolate", the lead singer of which kept referring to the "millionaires" drinking "cristal" (us) and making me feel pretty embarassed. but it was hard to be embarassed next to the group beside us, comprised of a few dumpy spanish girls and an excessively nerdy asian guy, all dancing awkwardly and emphatically doing air guitar. we obviously hadn't cracked the hip dublin social scene, and probably never will. but before we left, krystal made her acquaintances with the red-bearded bassist of White Chocolate, and he took us out for a drink which by this time we did not need. we agreed to get into his car so he could drive us home without even thinking twice, and somehow made plans for him to pick us up and take us sightseeing the next day. as we had to be out of our rooms at 10 am, naturally we felt like all hell in the morning, and prayed that he wouldn't show, out of sheer embarassment for our state. he did. luckily, as krystal was obviously the object of interest (obviously), i got to sit in the back seat and look out the window. (i also love car rides). he took us to his adorable little house in the dublin suburbs for tea, and as the mountain road was closed, we opted to go to the seaside. it was a lovely ride and we climbed a little hill for a good view of the beach. it was actually a really nice way to spend the day and see a little more of ireland, and easy on our hangovers. he suggested that we visit the guinness brewery as well, but krystal gave an emphatic "NO."

krystal goes to dublin

look at me, i'm a millionaire

the seaside

After that there's not too much of interest to tell...well yes there is, i'm just tired of writing. we continued to sightsee and party, we met up with the coast and saw them play in hoxton, also saw them get accosted by some troll-like fans who kept accusing them of being "too cool for them", and us being "too cool" by proxy, which was confusing and weird, and as a result, we saw the coast get into their van and totally ditch us in order to escape. but they apologized profusely, and we went to a house party with them in hammersmith the next night, where everyone got quite drunk and danced in the living room. saturday we mustered all our remaining energy to go out one last time, and my roommates took us to this super posh club bungalow 8, which apparently is a known celebrity hang out. i didn't see any celebrities, but i did see $20 drinks, which i guess is the cost of hanging with celebrities. the fact that ena got us on guest list through her friend into this place that looked like a 5-star hotel kind of made me feel like a VIP though, and sadly underdressed in my favourite rose-bowl t-shirt. emma assures me though that these things are all about understatement. haha.

strappin' it on with the coast

the final event worth mentioning i think is krystal and i getting sunday roast... oh sunday roast... you may well have been the best meal i ever had. i am eternally in your debt. i can taste the horseradish now.

this is not sunday roast... but i did finish everything on this table... kind of like a vaccuum

since krystal left there's not much to tell... in fact i've been uncommonly lazy. i have a few essays coming up, and plenty of reading, so i generally spend my days lounging around in my room, alternating between short bouts of reading, and long bouts of eating and sleeping. if i didn't feel like such a slug i would admit it's a pretty good life. generally i have something to look forward to every other day or so, (which i do earnestly) like meeting with a friend for drinks, or, like tonight, seeing pete doherty live! ahh. i don't think it's really even set in yet, that i'm finally seeing an idol of many years, who is probably a huge part of the reason i ever wanted to come here. i'm sure it will when i get there. i'm going alone, which is a little weird, but it's a small price to pay. more on that later i hope.

i will end this lengthy and probably largely un-stimulating entry with a passage i just read from david copperfield which made me laugh out loud-- luckily i was alone, because i hate when people laugh at books. even if they explain it to you, it's never as funny, and you just kind of think of them as nerdy assholes. but i'm going to recount it here anyway, and be that nerdy asshole.

"Mr. Chillip was married again to a tall, raw-boned, high-nosed wife; and they had a weazen little baby, with a heavy head that couldn't hold it up, and two weak staring eyes, with which it seemed to be always wondering why it had ever been born."

i hope i don't have babies that look like that.
adieu!

wouldn't it be nice to be dorian gray? (just for a day)

Dear readers,

I have been neglecting my post; for in truth, little of interest has occasioned upon me as of late. Or perhaps I have simply tired of writing. At any rate, the studying of 19th-century British literature has been taking up the greater part of my attentions, and accounts for the flowery (yet amateur) prose which now flows from my fingertips. There was one incident where I found myself lost, cold, and alone (save for the foxes) in East London until 6 am last weekend... but it seems so distant now, it hardly feels right to recount it. Never fear however, as I have a busy social calendar arranged for this weekend, and one can only hope, will be worthy of numerous tales of debauchery and merriment. After all, a young lady must make the best of the final days of her 21st year...

please excuse me from gym

The other day as I was waiting for the train from Egham, I decided to treat myself to fish and chips from the shop around the corner. When I walked in and ordered, the ruddy-looking woman behind the front counter asked "so you're going to college then?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Oh yeah, what you studying?"
"English literature."
"I see," she said, "O-levels or A-levels?"
"Oh, I don't know," I said, "it doesn't work that in Canada."
"You know I studied English at school," she said sadly; "I got my O-levels... but not my A-levels... my O-levels though." She sighed, and handed me my fish and chips. "Would you like salt and vinegar?"

is this everything you need for a cultured city?

last night, as i was waiting for the bus to go to laura's flat, i was feeling a little homesick. i think it's the fact that i have so little confidence here--- simple things like taking the bus or getting tarted up for a night out which would always be a breeze in toronto seem like terrifying tasks here, like everyone can see that i'm a tourist and i have no idea what i'm doing. but i made it to laura's flat in southbank, and we had some wine, and then we headed out for the last show at the london astoria before it's knocked down to make way for a train station.

i'm very sorry it was the last show, because it was basically the coolest venue i've ever been to. it was also the coolest show i've ever been to... i was like a drooling kid in a candy store, except the candy was whisky and cokes and excellent rock and roll music and hundreds of pretty boys with british accents... that's right, just like in heaven.

cajun dance party played on the mainstage and they were incredible-- i definitely like them more for having seen them live. the lead singer had black eyeshadow under his eyes and looked like vampire # 2 from the lost boys... but he was also wearing overalls with his cigarettes in the front pocket. he had this hunchy theatrical manner when he sang which sort of made me think of drew.



my only lament all night was how much i wished some of my friends were there... when they played the clash i thought of jake, and late of the pier made me think of drew, and when the set ended and the libertines' horrorshow came on, i thought of the many times in toronto when we had begged the dj to play it for us. but i was elated that i was actually in a place like that. i'd never seen anything even remotely like that party in toronto. it was like my dream party. maybe when i get back i should start throwing parties for a living... i could be bigger than the jons!

after the set we ran upstairs to catch good shoes on the smaller "stage"-- more like a glorified hallway that was so packed to the gunnels, with no raised stage platform, that the band was constantly begging for the crowd to step back so they had room to play, and i never actually saw the band over the dozens of sweaty heads in front of me. the set, and especially the vocals were much more raw than on the album, but it was great, and they played four new songs. the feeling of euphoria and place and history seemed to be running through the crowd, or maybe just through my head, but the band announced that they were playing the last song ever at the historic london astoria-- good shoes' morden-- and as we screamed about the london borough, i felt like i was a part of something... or at any rate it was a lot of fun.

the trip back was considerably better than there... i was riding high on a good night and a double decker bus. and when i got to my door i met a new friend... a little red fox! he looked at me. i was still grinning when i woke up this morning.

all the things i own i will share with you

Today i went to the Saatchi Gallery, where there was an all-Chinese artist exhibition. It was amazing:

this "angel" figure was extremely realistic, and its skin and grey-haired were pretty weird and disturbing. they were so tactile.




I feel as though he and I have a few things in common.

This piece was the coolest, and very bizarre. The men in motorized wheelchairs are extremely life-like, all made to look like old men in military costumes and wheeling independently around the room, while disoriented observers try and navigate between them...

I love this one. The man looks so perplexed.

Afterwards I went to the Tate Modern. I took a few photos of the installation in the lower galleries, which was like an insanely huge spider thing, with bunk beds underneath with books attached to them, with some "outdoor sculptures" and a video playing at the end. The idea was that we are in the future, and outdoor scultpures have to be brought in so they don't get wrecked, because it is constantly raining. It seems to me you have to come up with something like that in order to fill the enormous warehouse-sized space. Last time I was there it was a sound piece.

It was probably a good thing that you're not allowed to take pictures inside the actual gallery. There was just too much to look at, and I always find art galleries are so exhausting anyway-- my eyes actually start to hurt. Too much to compute. The great thing is that it's free, so i can go back anytime.

Afterwards I walked across the 'Millenium Bridge' to St. Paul's Cathedral:

When I got inside, there was a mass going on and the choir was singing. It was so beautiful that I had to sit down to listen until it was over. I'm not religious, but the architecture and the music were so powerful, and made me feel calm. I thought about my grandpa.

All in all, it was a good day.

look left, look right, cross the road, and hold my hand

i haven't written since my first day here, which i'm sure has frustrated my hundreds of readers. to be honest, i'm not all that comfortable writing for an audience, it feels very narcisisstic. but there's no use fighting that.

on thursday i did a bunch of sightseeing, the typical london monument circuit, it was a nice day and i felt really content and happy and took lots of pictures. i didn't get to see everything i wanted to, but it's nice that i'm here for so long so there's no rush.

that night i met up with kate and bry, and we had dinner and drinks-- i had fish and chips and mushy peas, which were delicious, but apparently have no nutritional value once mushed. i tried some beer which was labelled "london's finest", but it was gross and warm, which apparently is pretty common here, and ice is non-existent. i get the feeling sometimes that the british have no desire for some modern or north american conveniences, out of some sort of pride or tradition-- after all, londoners didn't have cold beer in the victorian era, so why start now?

anyway, we got quite drunk, which kate insisted was necessary, as we had about a 2-hour trip back to egham and needed to keep the energy up. we agreed to get "g&t's" -- gin and tonics in a can at the convenience store on the way back-- i was quite excited about this-- but alas, they were all out, so i'll have to remember to try that some other time. it was a long, misty walk back to her residence, and a great way of being introduced to the impressive main building at my school.

too quickly after laying my head down on kate's hard floor, i had to get up to go to my school orientation. i kept getting awful flashbacks to frosh week, as i awkwardly tried to introduce myself to people, to avoid giving off the impression that i was a cold bitch, which i really was feeling like anyway, being hungover and in no mood for small talk. i ended up meeting a few people, it turns out most of the exchange students are americans, and some of the ones i met seemed very american , complaining the whole time about this and that, the cold, the food, the hard spray in their shower, blah blah, while i thought to myself how i didn't care about any of those things, i'm just so thrilled to be here, exactly where i've been dying to go for so long. one of the girls i met looked and talked a lot like kim kelly from freaks and geeks, which secretly amused me. everyone was very college-y, there were lots of ugg boots and hairbands and american eagle, but i guess that's just what all college kids are generally like in the states. a guy from boston asked me if toronto has all underground tunnels because it's so cold, which made me laugh.

during the presentation a civilian policeman from egham spoke about safety, and it was too weird, it was like straight out of thst movie hot fuzz-- he was this old, stout man who spoke very thickly, and insisted that egham was one of the safest towns in britain, and "not to believe rumours" about murders and attacks in graveyards, and this and that, because those were isolated incidents that had nothing to do with students, which all seemed very cryptic. he also emphasized to "steer clear of youths outside shops", and especially not to look them in the eyes.

now i'm trying to get through reading my first novel of many for class tomorrow, gaskell's cranford. reading for hours at a time about the tedious daily events of a small british victorian town isn't exactly thrilling, but then again, i suppose the same could be said about reading a blog.