Okay. So here's the deal. I really am going to try and not suck at keeping a blog this time, because I am sick of having so much word-vomit that is dying to erupt from my mouth- or fingers, rather- and I should just not deprive myself of being able to share it with y'all. I know I can't be there to annoy all of you in person, but I will now do my best from across the Atlantic.
So... just to sort of explain the totally old and random posts that precede this one... They are from when I first came to London two years ago. They're pretty hilarious if I do say so myself, not gonna lie. Especially looking back on them. So if you choose to go back and read, you may or may not enjoy yourself. :)
I enabled comments on all my posts, and to keep me going, I'd love to see feedback and spark discussion with them so it'd be great to see what you all think.
Anyway. Now I can begin my first in a long string of posts.
The question I'm getting asked most is "how is London?!?!" London is great. It really is an amazing and beautiful city to be living in. However, it really couldn't be more different than Casper.
I decided there are stages of homesickness. I totally experienced this. I was in LOVE with everything "London" when I first got here... total honeymoon phase. 100%. Couldn't get enough of the damn place. I was in awe of how everyone around me managed to sound so much damn more sophisticated than me just because of their lovely British accent.
You never feel more insecure of your own American accent than when you live here, let me tell you that right now. I feel like the words coming out of my mouth just can't even measure up! Not only that, but now I'M the one with the accent.
I was deathly ill the other day and stopped at a pharmacy to get some medicine before I hobbled back home and I asked for what I needed (Night Nurse: the UK's version of NyQuil. NyQuil is the love of my life, if you know me personally. If you don't know me, well... now you know.) I asked for Night Nurse, and the pharmacist looked at me like I was speaking the most exotic an foreign tongue. Dude... don't get too excited. I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that I'm the one with the accent. Not to mention it's not even a cool NYC accent or slow southern drawl. Whatevs.
But back to homesickness stages. I'm past the honeymoon time period. Yes, I still love London. Yes, I am far away from home and in one of the most amazing cities in the world. But can I just bitch for a moment. Let me tell you a little bit about this place and the things that irk me.
Okay:
#1. Here are all of the things I am currently living without.
a. A microwave. I don't think you realize the sweet, sweet luxury that is a microwave until you have the joy of owning one ripped out of your innocent & wee little fingers. Because that is my life right now. Picture this: you make some bomb.com macaroni and cheese one night, put the rest in the fridge for later. You'll eat it the next day, easy as. Right?? WRONG. Enter my world of not owning an effing microwave. I put said macaroni in cheese in a pan and heat it up in the freaking OVEN. It takes about 9803820498209342039 and a half years to heat up. This is retarded. Lawrence's parents also have not and have never owned a microwave. Why? This is one of the many mysteries of the British. Don't ask.
b. I also do not own a dryer. That's right folks. I hang my clothes up to try them like I am a medieval bar wench sweating over my laundry. So that's fun. But I don't mind that much, as my clothes seem to keep their color a lot more and shrink a lot less. But shivering down the street with freezing cold butt cheeks from half-dry skinny jeans is an experience I would pass on.
c. The stairs up to my flat are about 6 flights. I shit you not. Need I say more? At least my ass is in good shape.
d. I don't have a car. Public transportation sucks balls. End of discussion. I am throwing all of this "living green" bullshit out the window right now. You will not care one bit about the damn global warming when you're traveling 1.5 hours back and forth from school via bus and the underground.
e. They don't have Ranch dressing here. WTF. Yeah... you can cry for me later.
There is a lot more shit that I am living without right now, but at this moment my brain cannot think of them. I'll inform you when my brain fart ceases.
#2. People here are weird. I know that's a really broad statement but you just have to be here to experience it. Firstly, people here just keep their heads down and they don't say shit. I think that must be deeply imbeded in the brain of every Londoner. I am not joking. Even if someone was screaming in pain on the side of the road, or if someone screamed out "HEY!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOOK!!!!!!! I AM GOING TO RIP OF ONE OF MY LIPS!!!!!!" No one would take a second look. They wouldn't even care which pair of lips this poor individual was planning on ripping off.
Straight-up, I just don't get this.
Lawrence says that I look at people TOO much. I don't know... I'm just fascinated, I guess. I mean.... if I see a hobo dressed in a tutu with one of his eyes dangling out of its socket, I'm going to look. (Mind you, I didn't actually see this. Just an example.) I seriously incapable of averting my eyes. I hope this doesn't get me stabbed one day.
Another instance of weirdness here is the clothing that people wear to the gym. Is that weird of me to notice? (This is probably another instance of me not being able to avert my eyes.) But picture this- some wear like converses (to the gym?!) and like normal jean shorts, normal t-shirts... I sound really inarticulate right now, but it isn't the sea of Nike dri-fit shirts and yoga pants you see in an American gym. It's just super strange....
Jesus. I seriously sound like the biggest uber-bitch of all time, but I just have to get things like this out. I really do love it here... it's just getting used to the things that are different that is important.
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