she may strew dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds

7:59pm: Still Alive
Geez...I knew I hadn't written here for a while, but I didn't realise it'd been two months...

Coming back to it after so long is always awkward, so I'll just tell you briefly:
I had to put Jay to sleep. He was diagnosed with kidney failure in February and the past month and half has been me constantly watching his health decline until 30 March, when he finally left me. I'm not willing to go into more detail about it than to say only that. And that I'm still grieving and miss him tons.

In better news, I am moving house this weekend. Only about 1/2 mile away, really: from Finsbury Park to Holloway. Still in north London. Our new place is lovely and has a private garden in back. So that's one nice bit of good news (though of course no less stessful...)

My other bit of good news is that I won two fellowships: one that will assist me with research costs throughout the course of my PhD and the other means that I will be in residence at McGill University in Montreal this summer!

Has anything major happened to you? I'll be honest and tell you that I won't get around to reading two months of blog entries, so do post me a comment and tell me how you are and if I've missed anything big.

I also have to admit that I may not be blogging so much anymore. It's weird. Part of me almost feels like a section of my life has just ended and I almost feel like this blog is someone I'm not anymore, or maybe haven't been in a while. I'm not going to get all philosophical now, but...yeah...

Hope you're all well. I've thought about many of you individually and will probably go have a quick search through my list of friends now to make sure you're all still alive, as well.

12:23am: blue now is the colour
I had a terrible attack of social anxiety this evening. There's a girl who I really want to be friends with and she invited me to her birthday party and I just couldn't go. Why???? I've also had two panic attacks in the last month. One made sense; the other kinda didn't. I'm trying not to obsess about this too much. Everyone has these moments, right? It's just that it's right on top of my decision to decrease the dose of my medication. I still think this is the right decision, and I don't feel like elaborating on this right now. I also don't really want any comments saying that you do or don't think I've made the right decision. But I can't help but wonder.

I was on this dose before. In the US, the pills are blue. It's silly, but I liked the thought that maybe PJ Harvey and I were on the same meds:

'Blue now is the colour / Love the drug I'm needing / Got to keep this feeling'

I ended up on yellow pills though--blue wasn't enough.

Today, in England, they're all white, regardless of the dose.

Otherwise, I've been busy. Really busy. So apologies for not keeping up with your posts, or for posting my own. I hope to get back to this in the next week. Soon it'll be Reading Week at uni, meaning I should have a bit of time to do something other than cramming for teaching and grading papers. I've also applied for a one-month all-expenses-paid research post held at McGill University in Montreal for a month in the summer. I'll be hearing the result sometime in Feb, so fingers crossed because I'd really really love to get this.

That's all for now. There's more, but it's late and I'm tired. Hope you're all well.

2:59pm: Happy 2007!
I am so jet-lagged it's giving me a headache. I made no plans for yesterday because I was expecting this. I was asleep at midnight, but was woken up by friends in Leamington phoning to wish me a happy new year and passing the phone around in a noisy pub. I then returned to bed and watched the shadows of fireworks on the wall in front of me that must been been going off in the car park of the estate behind our house. There's something very strange about watching firework shadows.

I then woke up at 4am and felt pretty awake. I couldn't decide if I was just up really late (and therefore should break open my Duty Free bottle of Macallan) or was up really early (and therefore should make myself some coffee.) I vacillated for a while, which is kind of disturbing if you think about it, and then went back to bed with some water and wrote the following:

Top Ten Highlights of 2006:
10. Went flat-hunting in Paris with Sarah
9. Saw more good films than any other single year
8. Returned to Scotland...twice!
7. Organised a successful academic conference
6. Made a great new friend, and subsequently appear to have lost her
5. Started teaching at Warwick Uni
4. First publication by adding Aletheia to the DNB
3. Secured full-funding (plus a healthy living stipend) for my PhD
2. Moved to London...and (back) in with Chad
1. Visited Dad's hometown, Castel San Vincenzo, in Abruzzo (Italy)...and everything magical that went with that trip.

So, overall, not the most remarkable of years (as previous years found me doing fancy things like moving abroad or obtaining degrees), but a comfortable one. So far, 2007 has seen me sitting with Jay on my lap as I complete the first thousand words of my thesis. Only 79,000 words to go... *groan*

Happy New Year, everyone!!!

6:07am: all is sound
Staying at home for the holidays is always a bit weird and regressive, but this time we have to add claustrophobic to the mix. My brother finished uni since the last time I came home, and so add him, all his possessions and his three ferrets to my dad's already small house. Neither of us ever stay with mom, for many reasons. It's been great to see Mike, but this moment right now seriously might be the quietest I've heard the house since I first arrived a week ago. Dad's asleep. Mike's out. Perfect.

The visit as a whole has been filled with weird ups and downs too. Another friend bought a home. Another friend is pregnant. Another cousin might get engaged. And I can't help but cringe every time I hear these things. I guess I just hate having heard the same conversation a million times...

'How's So-And-So?'
'Oh, she got married and has a job in the city.'

I'm not saying this in a bitter way, but more that I'm disappointed that all these people who were so cool about 10 years ago can be wrapped up into the same damn boring life. And, my God, they all live within 10 miles of where they grew up!!! Why doesn't anyone move from Chicago?? I do like this city, but the last thing I want is for that to be me. It taints my ideas whenever I flirt with the idea of moving back here down the road.

I hope when/if people ask about me, they hear 'Oh, she moved to England with her cat and is getting a PhD.' I really really hope that's what they're saying.

2:52pm: the wheels on the bus go...
round and round.

over and over.

for a straight hour from the row in front of me on the plane. especially during turbulance and air pressure changes during the landing. it was annoying, but oddly not as bad as it would have been in other circumstances. i was nervous this flight and the repetition of the song put me into a sort of trance. it also made me think of our family's annual holiday flight when i was a kid...the only difference is that i was more the one entertaining my mom.

mom has been phobic of flying since as long as i can remember. there was one time when we had all of our suitcases packed for a trip to Disneyworld, and then we woke up with her hysterical because she had a dream that the plane crashed. we cancelled our trip. another time, when we actually did make it to Disneyworld, we missed our flight back to Chicago and had to take the next flight out instead which had a connection. this set her off again. she sobbed in the corner of the airport waiting area and my dad took me and my brother away and acted overly happy/silly in that necessary distraction sorta way. on flights themselves, she'd be gripping the seat so hard that her knuckles were white and i'd try showing her drawings or tell her jokes. she'd give me an unengaged half-smile.

i managed to not develop a fear of flying, which may have been the result of my dad's efforts. when we'd hit turbulance on planes, mom would pull out her rosary (suddenly religious) and dad would give me a big open smile and say 'isn't this fun?!' he always wanted the window seat so he could watch as we soar above the clouds. mom needed an aisle seat and needed the window in her row drawn shut the whole time.

this was a metaphor for our whole lives. it still is.

1:43am: a science experiment of a bedroom...
There is mold growing all over the wall of my bedroom. I've had suspicions, but it was not confirmed until today when Chad moved his laundry basket and found that the growth had sprawled in all directions behind it and even started exploring the carpet below. We've both been waking up with chest congestion and have convinced ourselves it's the mold (whether there's any truth to this, not so sure.) So for a quick fix tonight, we've pulled out the futon and are sleeping in the second bedroom. This is the one where the window is held closed by torn egg cartons because our landlord never came to fix it even after daily phone calls. Please tell me that he'll deal with the mold problem with efficiency and alacrity tomorrow...

2:19pm: Breathing and Mooing
I've been gone for a month-ish as my teaching load is quite heavy. In short, it's going well and I enjoy it. I'm really impressed by Warwick's undergrads--wow. Such a different classroom experience from those I had when I was 18.

Spent Bonfire Night drunken ice-skating with Alice at Alexandra Palace. Awesome. Also saw Cat Power and Sufjan Stevens in concert and am impatiently waiting for Modest Mouse in a couple weeks!

There's more to say, but it's always hard to recreate an entire month in one blog entry. Instead, I'll leave you with some handy info about Cows Mooing in Regional Dialects.

1:44am: first day of school, again...
Spent 5 hours on the bus and 1 hour on the Tube today. Why? To commute to Coventry to give some new postgrads an introduction to Warwick Uni. I was asked to give the 'international perspective' on how it was to adjust to England, and Warwick Uni specifically. It was hard to remember those days, and lots of me didn't want to. But I was honest. I said I was terrifed. I remember the culture shock. I remembered feeling stupid, and isolated, and all wondering why I'd decided to leave not just my city or state...but my country.

It all went really well in the end. People laughed at parts of my speech that I didn't even mean to be funny. I realised how far I'd come in two years, and how lucky I was to be out here. A couple students even came up to me afterwards and thanked me, which was amazing.

And now, I have tomorrow to relax, and then the start of term tomorrow. This is my first time ever teaching, and I've had NO training. I'm again reliving the culture shock. What did these undergrads learn during A-Levels? How was this different from my high school experience? What do I do when I walk in that first day of class?

I fear that I'll be updating less and less, and I think more and more of this blog might be me coming to grips with teaching. Therefore, more and more of these posts will unfortunately become FRIENDS ONLY<. Mostly, I hate this idea, but I'm sure you can understand all the reasons why this is necessary. And so...

If I haven't already friended you and you think I should, TELL ME! I'm shit about keeping up to date with this. I think most of my Chicago friends have accounts by now, but if not then you'll have to in order to read these posts...

K, that's all for now. First day of term is Monday. Keep your fingers crossed for me, folks...

10:34pm: when did this happen?
Shit. I'm an adult. I have to wake up at 6.30am tomorrow to get to Warwick for a staff meeting, which will be followed by a meeting with the professor who is convening the course on which I'll be teaching a seminar. I have three classes this year--all year--which is A LOT for a first time teacher. Tomorrow will be my first chance to try this awesome new 3 1/2 hour (one way) commute I subjected myself to by moving to London. Yeeeahh....regretting that right about now.

The weekend was good though. Friday night was drunken fun at a dog-friendly pub down a random Islington alley, followed by lots of sleep and a full Saturday of cycling around north and east London. Some highlights there include stumbling upon a French market, hearing a djembe class practice on the green of Finsbury Park, and making kissy sounds at/with the pygmy goats who live surprisingly close to me. This has also been the weekend of resurrecting X-Men Vs Streetfighter, and there's been lots and lots of ass-whoopin' here in N4 (guess who just got a Mod-Chip for her US PS1?!)

But none of that tonight. Now I'm an adult. I cleaned the house on Sunday and am now going to bed early to wake up for work on Monday. I haven't had to do this since I worked the morning shift at Borders about 4 years ago, but at least working there felt like playing most of the time. God, what the hell happened? You'd think I should at least be getting an adult paycheck...

1:55pm: Quick Trip to Chicago
Due to parental guilt, I spent last week in Chicago. It was all very rushed and much of the usual, so nothing really worth posting about. Highlight was all the good food; Letdown was the increased gentrification of my old neighbourhoods. There are two things that you should know though:

1) My return flight was one of the worst in my life, with some horrendous & unexpected turbulance. The flight attendant actually made a joke about the plane crashing over the intercom when we hit some of the worst of it over Ireland, which somehow made it better and worse at the same time. The man to the left of me kissed the cross on his necklace as I gripped the armrests and stared up at the shaking overhead lockers.

2) I GOT A BIKE for my upcoming birthday! It's a Dahon folding bike which was about half the price I'd pay here in London. I had to get rid of my Leamington bike when I moved to London because there was just no room for storage and I've been coveting a folding bike ever since. I've only done two proper cycling commutes in London so far and while it's a bit scary, I at least have the sense that the drivers are used to cyclists.

That's all for now. Staff meeting next week which will be followed by tutor meetings for individual courses. I should finally find out what is expected of me as a first time tutor at that point. Term begins the first week of October.

11:17pm: park that car...drop that phone...
I think I've met my first friend in London. Or at least...sorta... Her name is Victoria. I was walking down Holloway Road and she complimented my Modest Mouse T-Shirt, so we started talking. This was one week ago. Since then, we've been emailing and decided to meet for a drink tonight and I would give her a copy of Interstate-8. We talked about music. I learned then that she was an exotic dancer and that she's danced everywhere around the world, including NY, London, Australia, and Japan. She's also in a band, and really hot, and... people, she's far cooler than me. The point is, since I've moved to England (or, erm...Leamington Spa specifically), I haven't met people who made me come back home and tell Jay 'She's cooler than me.' But she is. And I feel good about London. Real good.

The other thing you should know is that I haven't posted because Chad's family has been here this past week. I admit that part of me was worried about this (we live in a small 2-bedroom flat that I couldn't imagine comfortably sleeping 5 people), but it was great. We got to show them around London and do touristy things that we'd never be able to afford to do. Like the London Eye (which was actually a let down). And Leeds Castle, in Kent (which was NOT a let down, but instead really fuckin cool--especially the maze!) His fam left this morning, and I'm trying to readjust to Real Life now. But his parents said numerous times how much they admire us because we're actually living in another country, which is something they've both only fantasised about. It gave me some perspective about my current life and made me more appreciative of the day to day.

One day I'll stop telling you how happy I am that I moved to London. Promise. Just let me get over the shock first, k?

1:42pm: Yes, this actually happened. Part three.
I was at my lovely local pub The Faltering Fullback playing cards with Chad and enjoying a nice cold pint. It was hot inside, and so we were sat as close to the door as possible, waiting for a table outside in the beer garden to open up. I was engrossed in our game of Rummy when the next thing I know everyone is running out of the room. I had to stand up to see over the jukebox to my immediate right and then saw this crazy drunk man spraying everyone with a fire extinguisher! The stream of smelly liquid shot in a thick stream and the power of the blast meant that the stream was long enough to clear this entire room. Chad jumped and moved for the door and I just ducked in a ball behind the jukebox again. The drunkard was laughing and laughing. Finally, some other guy calmed the drunkard down enough to get close enough to take the fire extinguisher from him. A couple of the ladies who work the bar came out then and were yelling at the drunk dude by his name, telling him he ruined the pool table and had to leave now. This guy just kept laughing and laughing, completely unaware of how antisocial he had been. He seemed to think he was doing everyone a favour by just cooling them off a bit. Party Animal.

12:25am: Paris and London
I’ve been crap about updating, but hopefully that will change now that I’m finally settling into my new home. Also, I haven’t been around much. Last week I made yet another trip to Paris. This time I accompanied Sarah for a very intense 2-night/3-day house-hunting adventure. Sarah won a scholarship that gives her 10 months to live and research in Paris next academic year, but they don’t provide accommodation. So she answered a bunch of ads for housemates, packed our three days with house visits, and we began our adventure.

This entire experience was weird on so many levels. For one thing, I can't speak any French (though I'm finally beginning to understand some). So we'd often be in someone's flat and they'd talk for half-an-hour in French, trying to sell themselves as fun/responsible flatmates to each other, and I'd smile stupidly and look around the room. Awkward! We also opted to stay with a Canadian friend-of-a-friend who neither of us had ever met, and his French flat-mate did not speak a word of English. I had to listen to elaborate conversations about Posh Spice in French and wonder if it would be more polite for me to smile and nod, read a book, or fall asleep. I did a mix of the first and third option.

But the househunting itself was actually really fun. If I learned nothing else, I learned that Parisian flats make London flats look like mansions! Thankfully, by the end, we did find three decent places for Sarah, so she's now emailing people back, working her way down the hierarchy. I hope one of these pulls through. Among those rejected were a Florida woman who only wanted to befriend Anglophones and seemed to dislike other women, a French hippie whose place was an overwhelming mix of Hindi chant music and incense, and a tiny one-bed flat where the living room would be Sarah's room.

Now that I’ve returned, I’ve been working my way through an intense To Do list that is mostly a mixture of Moving Necessities (register with new doctor, buy filing cabinet, etc.) and Academic Necessities (essay deadline, teacher preparation, etc.) My days have been completely filled, yet frustratingly there’s still so much left to do by night. I should probably add 'LJ Catch-Up' to the list. Will catch-up on the F-List tomorrow. Promise.

8:07pm: and july finishes happily...
I've moved into London. I'm still unpacking. It seems like it will never end. But I'm happy. I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I've spent the last couple days walking around local areas in northern London and I constantly thinking to myself "I can't believe I'm actually living in London..." I'm currently typing this in front of the massive window in my living room, where I see the row of Victorian houses across the street, the massive tree in front of my house, and so many different types of people walking down the street to their own houses on my little side street.

I'm happy. I'm really happy.

And in even better news: I GOT MY FELLOWSHIP!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, this is the one that I didn't get in round one, many months ago. It's also the one that I've been stressing about to many of you via email. So while this is of course amazing, here's what makes it even more amazing:
-Success rate is only around 5% (and never more than 8%).
-I get a teaching contract with this where I'm considered as STAFF, not student.
-It waives the remainder of my tuition fees AND gives me more to live on than I was making at any of my full-time jobs in Chicagoland bookstores between my BA and MA.

Obviously, this is not only a massive financial relief, but also quite the mark of recognition. Considering I'm actually paying less rent now that I'm sharing a flat, I can officially say NO LOANS this year, which is a wonderful, wonderful thing!

Sorry for the shameless self-promotion there, but I'm flying people. I'm flying!!

4:57pm: On Moving
Mostly I'm happy about the move, but packing always stirs up memories. For instance, though I have no particular love for the cliche French advertisements on my living room walls, I can remember buying them at a poster sale at uni during the first couple weeks of my MA in an attempt to break up the white space of the empty room. I've also had to say goodbye to the locals, like the owner of the organic shop that I frequent and my postman who loves to joke with me whenever delivering my mail. I've never lived in a town as small as Leamington Spa, so I think the goodbyes are just a bit more intense than usual.

In other news though, I've been amazed at the random things I've found when sorting through old stacks of papers. My favourite gem is the following 'To Do' list that lived admist the usual stack of old bills and TV license warning letters:

To Live List:
Ireland
Scotland or Wales
Germany
Italy
Netherlands
Australia
New Zealand
Hong Kong
---------------
To Do List:
Monday:
Pick up cat food
Buy cat litter
Email Zaid
Drop off prescription

This is on the same little sheet of paper. I don't remember when I wrote this, but it must be a while ago, as my 'To Live' list has changed. Oddly enough, my 'To Do' list still looks very similar. Heh. Hope Alice (who's Welsh) doesn't read this and see that I for some reason lumped 'Scotland or Wales' in the same line!

10:41am: colour-blind cities and curiosities
Aberdeen is grey like no other city I've ever seen. Literally, every building is made of grey granite stones, regardless of if they're 500+ years old, or 50. The sreets are grey. The sidewalks/pavement are grey. And of course the usual cliche--the weather has been grey. It was a very surreal experience when I walked out of the station and swung my head around and seriously only saw different shades of grey towering over me.

I've enjoyed my time up here though. The conference was less scary than many I've attended, and I was lucky to have Alice up here with me. We shared a room and decided early on to form of small clique of grad students in order to avoid the forced/awkward conference networking that one should of course partake in. Being broke, I skipped all the conference lunches and dinner (except one dinner), which actually allowed me to enjoy walks into town more than the others. One of my favourite places was this old castle that was turned into a goth-themed pub and named Slain Castle. You could drink one of the Seven Deadly Sin cocktails, walk up a dark winding stair case crowned by a spider-web covered chandelier, and use the secret toilet that was part of a bookshelf you had to push in. Far better use of my time and money than the conference dinner, if you ask me.

The other highlight was the sea. Alice and I decided to skip a panel one day and walk to the beach and watch the waves. With her being from Cardiff and me being from Chicago, we both have fond memories of going for walks and reading on the beach, and so this visit provoked a bit of homesickness in both of us. I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my tights, hiked my skirt up just below my ass, and ran into the water, screaming at how absolutely freezing it was. Alice just laughed, saying she wished she had her camera. It was wonderful.

I'm writing this in Aberdeen Uni, where I have about an hour to kill before catching a bus to the airport. Plan is to get back to Leamington tonight (Sunday) and begin my packing and cleaning, as I'll be moving to London on Thursday! Now that this conference is over and the move will be shortly, I should be able to relax a bit and spend the rest of my summer actually working on my thesis--something I've been too distracted to do lately. Hope the English heatwave will have passed by time I get down there...

8:40pm: Surprise!!
Guess what? In a quick change of events, I'M MOVING TO LONDON!!!!!!!!

Chad and I found a nice flat in Finsbury Park this weekend and put money down. Assuming it all works out, he's moving in next weekend and I'll move in at the end of the month, after my conference in Aberdeen (northern Scotland).

If you didn't know that I was planning on moving, it's been the plan that I would move to Birmingham at the end of the summer. It's been two years in Leamington Spa and I've just outgrown the tiny town. As I started flat-hunting in Birmingham, for many reasons it just wasn't working out as I'd hoped. I've wanted to live in London for years, but I just never thought I'd be able to afford a decent flat in a safe area. But after much looking, we found a great (but small) flat.

So, I'm VERY excited!! I'll try to post more properly about this later, but I'm exhausted and have to pack for a research trip to Cambridge tomorrow morning.

Thankfully, things are finally looking up.

11:15pm: bon jour
Greetings from Paris, where I'm enjoying my (second) bottle of amazing wine (for less than 6€) and drunkenly trying to master the insane French keyboard--so sorry if there are typos! In case you cared, Italy and the US just played each other in the world cup and ended in a draw, which is all very heady and existential for a lady like me who holds two passports. It was fun to watch with French commentary that I could not understand.

Really though, I'm here after having spent a couple very nice nights in Brussels, and now I'm in Paris for a second time and am surprised by how a city can appear so very different depending on two very different travelling experiences.

Dudes, I am having far too much trouble typing, so I'll properly post later, but for now I'll leave you with a song I invented earlier:

What do crepes and crepuscular have in common?
C-R-E-P!
Do-la-do-la-do-do-do

It sounds a lot better live. I hope you can imagine it.

12:20pm: Yes, this actually happened. Part Two.
Setting: Chad and I are walking back to his house from a bar in Hackney (east London).

Random woman: [mumbles something inaudible in a sexy voice]

We look around and find a couple on their balcony, calling down to us.

Chad: What?

Random woman: [sexy voice] You into foursomes?

Chad: No. Sorry.

Random man: [sexy voice] That's a shame.

Random woman: [sexy voice] Maybe another time?

Chad: Yeah, maybe.

I'm not in the dialogue because I was too confused and mellowed out from my whiskey to participate in this conversation. Gotta love London.

10:15am: On Class
One of the things that I think I'm finding the hardest about getting a PhD is that I feel like I'm from a completely different class bracket than everyone else. ALL of my friends' parents are either academics, doctors or lawyers--or some combination of these. I'm not kidding--I can only think of ONE of my friends who can join me in saying that we're first generation university educated. I remember hearing in an undergraduate Sociology class that students who were first generation college students were the least likely to pursue degrees beyond a BA. This stuck in my head, as I knew then that I wanted to get a PhD. Many years later, I can confirm the statistics.

Our different home lives comes up in different ways with my friends. Sometimes it's just that they tell me of conversations with their parents where it's clear that their parents understand what they're saying and can even offer them help. Other times it's reminiscing on childhood, when it becomes obvious that they've been cultured to succeed in higher education from their wee little years. Otherwise there are the awkward times when I can tell that they come from more money, like their readiness to take a cab instead of wait for a bus, or their complete inability to comprehend how and why I bought most of my household items from charity shops.

I guess this is all fresh in my mind because of recent conversations I've had with my parents. My mom has been unemployed for about 8 months now. She's often one of several hundred applicants for a low paying receptionist job. She has been very ill, and is in one of those situations where she's too broke to not work and needs health insurance, but is too ill to manage a full-time job. Then there's my dad, who is doing well for himself, but has worked his ass off to get there. After Vietnam, he started a road construction business with his brother that has become highly successful throughout the years. But it involves 10-12 hour days of physical labour outside in Chicago's extreme weather conditions, and he only has one day a week 'off work', which has really meant that he works at home. When he visited me in England two years ago, it was his first vacation in over a decade. They're proud of me, but admittedly neither can really comprehend what I'm doing, why I need to be in university for so long, or why I couldn't just do this in Chicago.

Now that I'm coming to the end of my rambling, I'm not sure what the point of this post really was. I suppose I could make some big claims here about class and academia/work/education/illnesses/etc. And this is all there, floating in the back of my mind. But really I guess this post was more for me, as I try to figure out why I often feel out of place here. It's also a thanks to my parents for sacrificing so much, and allowing my brother and me to pursue careers that would not have been available to either of them.

2:36pm: Yes, this actually happened.
I was in London with a few friends, standing outside of a crowded bar and enjoying a drink. Suddenly, a big van slowly creeps up the very narrow street before us, and those standing in the way moved aside in a typically irritated fashion. The van then stops, the windows go down, the sun roof opens, and that old Cypress Hill song 'Jump Around' starts blaring really really loudly. A bunch of guys then jump out of the car and start bouncing around on pogo sticks! They're not very good, but they're having a good time trying. They gain a crowd, and people laugh, sing and some even join in the jumping. When the song ends, the guys pile back in the van and drive away while everyone is laughing and applauding their random performance.

9:42am: Update!
Yes, I've returned. For those of you who I haven't already complained to about this, I've been very overwhelmed with a nasty deadline: The M.Phil/PhD Upgrade. For those reading this who are in US doctoral programmes, this is basically the equivalent of your 'Comps' or 'Orals'. In England, however, we have to turn in a portfolio of written work that must include a thesis chapter that is 'of doctoral-level standard'. There will then be an oral defense, which is based on my readings and writings as evidenced by this portfolio--and I don't have any say in picking who my assessors are! Anyway, the portfolio is going in today, and the oral defense should be in about two weeks.

So while this whole procedure is stressful enough, my supervisor has been absolutely KILLING me. She's not concerned about me passing--she says I'm ahead of where I should be anyway--but she says it has to be 'brilliant'. This is because Round II of that scholarship that I did not get in Round I is now coming to a close, and she wants me to be at the top of the English Department's rankings next month when they consider their nominations. While I completely understand what she's saying, and I really appreciate that she's taken my financial difficulties to heart, she's put an unbelievable amount of pressure on me that has seriously just crippled me here and there. The 30-page 'chapter' in the portfolio has been reworked for an entire month. I'll save you the nasty details, but there has been more than one session of me crying in the bathroom after a supervision, and many isolating 12-hour work days when I didn't even step out of my flat.

And so, once I finish the morning coffee I'm currently enjoying, I'm heading to uni to hand this damn thing over. And then, I plan to get drunk like an 18 year-old and to still be hungover from it come Friday.

12:16am: 'I'm drunk, but I hear you're American...'
I went to Oxford on Saturday for research and Alice's birthday party, and had the same experience I do every time I go there:

First 5 Minutes: Oh wow!! I forgot how pretty this town is. Oooohhhh....
5 Minutes Later: I'm ready to go home now. Ugh...

Granted, it was a Saturday afternoon in Spring, but my GOD that does not excuse the amount of lame tourists. Seriously. It's okay to take pics/stare/etc, but can you PLEASE respect local people who are trying to go about their day? I had to fight my way into the Bodleian Library because hoards of tourists were just standing in front of the door. Once in the overly-hot library, an open window just lets in the noise of the mob below. I can't even step out to get a cup of coffee because there are ridiculously long queues *everywhere*, and it's all so overpriced anyway. I was in such a bad mood by time I finally reached Alice's that I spent the first few hours warding off frequent 'are you okay' queries.

The party, however, was lots of fun! After dinner and some drinks at the house, we decided to go dancing at The Zodiac. I'd never been before, but it was lots of fun, and much better than any of the crap suburban clubs around Leamington. It was mostly 80s music (some indie, some intentionally cheesy) and the people there were mostly 'normal' looking. I don't go dancing often, but every time I do I am reminded of how much I love dancing with a big group of friends. I'm also reminded of how much I hate drunk, desperate guys at these clubs. Collapsing on me and slurring 'I'm drunk, but I hear you're American' is NOT a pick up line. It actually all got a bit unbearable by 2:30, and so we headed back to Alice's, where 11 people managed to crash on beds, couches, floors, etc.

Someone please explain to me though why my hangover has lasted two days though. I know I needed a night out where I could just forget about my work stress, but this shouldn't still be prohibiting me from working two days later...

11:07pm: How did I miss this memo?
Q. Do you know what the first thing is that pops up when you Google 'brontosaurus'?
A. There is no such thing as a brontosaurus.

Now let me guess--you're all going to tell me that you already knew this. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if I may be the only person in the world who didn't. And, hell, why did I have to get the news when I was with a bunch of people, where it was in response to me talking on and on about how much I love dinosaurs and how the brontosaurus has always been my favourite?

In case this does come as a shock to one or two of you though, let me assure you of this before you get all worked up: the change of skull has not changed the fact that it's still a vegetarian. At least it hasn't all been a lie...

10:01pm: Sono italiana.
I've been talking to a few friends lately and casually slipping my big news into the conversation, only to hear a bit of confusion from the receiving end, claiming that I hadn't properly told them. So to avoid further confusion, here's my big news:

I officially have dual-citizenship with Italy, and an EU passport!

It actually all got cleared just before I went to Italy, and my dad handed me the new passport when I met him in Rome. While it was all pretty straight forward (Dad was born in Italy and still an Italian citizen at the time of my birth), it still took over a year for it to all clear. It's pretty exciting now to have two passports: blue and red. But aside from colour choices, here are some handy legal benefits:

-Both the US and Italy allow me to legally hold dual-citizenship.

-I can stay in the UK, or really anywhere in the European Union, after my American student visa expires. And yes, I can work without a hassle!

-I'll be eligible for more grants and scholarships (once I establish the residency requirement), as most applications out here require EU nationality 'as evidenced by your passport'.

-I can vote in Italian and EU elections, and still absentee vote in US elections.

Actually, my first chance to vote in an Italian national election passed last week without me participating. In fact, this is the first election when they allowed Italians-living-abroad to vote, but I didn't feel I knew enough to cast an educated vote. This extension to voter rights was (probably) approved because the centre-right thought they'd secure more votes from this political base; however, as this article explains, 'The saving grace for center-left is the vote of Italians abroad.' Actually, while I'm not making a simple comparison between the two very different countries, following the neck-and-neck vote count, followed by the recount, and just the corrupt politics hoovering over the whole race, made the Italian elections reminded me a bit too much of the American election. But, in summary: Good riddance Berlusconi, Hello (again) Prodi!! (And, dammit, next time I'm voting!)

Tomorrow night I think Sarah and her housemate Cherie are taking me out for a drink to celebrate my dual-citizenship. All very exciting! (Now I'll crawl away and work on speaking the language a bit better...)