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[tuesday, september 28, 2004]
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::1:44 a
the prodigal slayer updates
I'm starting to miss America. Just sort of in the general sense. I miss driving. Public transportation just is no substitute for being able to just hop in your car and go. I kind of miss American culture -- not that I really paid much attention to it when I was home, but at least I knew who all the people were. I'm still not sure why some of the people over here are famous.
Of course, we have those back home too.
Politics -- I don't even bother. I can't vote anyway so there's no point getting excited. Wish I was home to vote in the November election.
I miss my apartment back in Cleveland -- even sharing my room with Chao Ahn. This apartment's nice enough, but it is kind of boring, and don't get me started on the bathroom. It's a travesty.
I miss having everyone right there around me. I've made some friends here, and of course, there are the girls, but they're all scattered over Southeast England. I miss Marc too, despite the fact that I think things are over between us. We've just sort of . . . drifted. He's gone from IMming me every morning to every couple days to I think the last time we chatted was a week ago. He mentioned kind of off-handedly that there was another girl there he was thinking about asking if she wanted to go for coffee, and it really didn't bother me. I told him it was fine with me. I guess that was the breakup.
I can't even really muster up any sadness about it. I've sort of seen this coming for a long time, just in the way that we've been growing apart for a while. We tried to make this long-distance relationship thing work, but at some point we had to face it: I'm not going back. Not for any significant period of time, not anytime soon. And it isn't fair of me -- wasn't fair of me -- to expect him to devote himself to someone he wasn't going to see again. We're only nineteen. Too early to get tied down like that. It's not fair.
As much as I wish it were.
What do I do when I'm not moping about being homesick? Work, mostly. I made a return trip to Paris last month with Eliza -- that's the Slayer I picked up on way through Paris the first time -- to look into what might be a vampire clan trying to set up shop in the suburbs. Things were a little easier this time, since I had Eliza along, and she's a native, but nothing could make me like Paris. Ever. That place just makes me want to hit things.
Plus there's still training to do, for me, and for the girls. And there's always research to do. Funny how back in Sunnydale I used to want to research if it meant I didn't have to fight. Now I can't get away from it.
I watch TV sometimes, although not much -- there never was much I cared for on American TV, and the things the British choose to import aren't it. I have managed to find CSI, but they're way back in reruns. As far as the native TV goes -- not impressed. Although it is interesting seeing some of the things that I used to watch on BBC America on the actual BBC over here.
Not much, but it is a life. I like it.
Still miss home sometimes. Think I'll get Corinne to help me get the Council to pay for a flight back to the States for Thanksgiving.
current mood:  nostalgic
current music: Frou Frou: Maddening Shroud [Details]
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[wednesday, july 28, 2004]
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::2:59 a
more adventures of the expatriate slayer and her fellow expatriates
Of the Cleveland gang, I'm the only one left here overseas; everyone has relocated back to Cleveland. Sometimes I miss the whole gang, my roomies, and that camaraderie. It's not as hard living away from my family as you'd think -- I mean, I effectively moved out at the age of seventeen with that whole "The First Evil wants you dead, come to Sunnydale where you'll be safe" thing. And Marc . . . I don't know what I feel there. We've been together for almost eleven months, but . . . I don't know.
I think I'll stay over here, though. What I'm doing with the girls, that's important. Plus it's kind of a bonus that I love England.
But still, I get homesick sometimes. So it was nice when I got a voicemail from Xander yesterday, saying he was passing through and did I have any beer, and if I did, did I want to meet him somewhere? Unfortunately, I was down in Ashford doing a meet and greet with a girl who's either a Slayer or just a very gifted athlete -- we're not sure yet -- so I didn't manage to catch him. But it was nice to hear from him.
Maybe I'll go back to Cleveland and visit later this year. Thanksgiving, maybe.
current mood: nice
current music: Butterfly Boucher: Life Is Short [Flutterby]
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[tuesday, june 29, 2004]
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::12:26 a
i would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for you meddling kids
The magnifying glass isn't overkill, is it, guys?
And in retrospect, maybe "Bess" really wasn't the best nickname for Andrew.
current mood:  crushed
current music: The Corrs: Toss the Feathers [Instrumental] [Forgiven, Not Forgotten]
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[saturday, june 26, 2004]
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::2:12 p
dateline london
Reporting in from Watcher Central. Turns out the big evil Giles called me in to help apprehend is some badly-dressed green demon with horns . . . who's accused of brutally ripping apart about six people. I saw pictures. Yeech.
I was surprised at how easily he came along. Reminded me of the stories about Sirius Black in Prisoner of Azkaban. Of course, he's been proclaiming his innocence. He says he's going to cooperate with us because he doesn't want to get hurt, bless his horns, but obviously something's gone very wrong here and he's just a simple demon on a tour of the Continent, surely we understand?
Sure, I understand he's the only factor all these attacks have in common. I read Nancy Drews. I can put clues together.
He also keeps mentioning angel food cake. Kind of an odd time to be hungry, if you ask me.
current mood: contemplative
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[thursday, june 24, 2004]
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::9:20 p
a representative day in the life of an expatriate slayer
( Read more... )
current mood:  good
current music: The Corrs: Hideaway [Borrowed Heaven]
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[monday, may 10, 2004]
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::7:08 a
Today's my birthday. Happy birthday me, from Canterbury UK.
current mood: happy birthday me
current music: happy birthday
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[friday, april 16, 2004]
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::5:54 p
I will not kill the French. I will not kill the French.
Rudest, stinkiest, grossest group of people ever. There's like all this graffiti everywhere. Even in the Metro. Like, as we were going to the Tour Eiffel, there was this group of kids merrily spraypainting the Metro car we were in. And whatever they were writing, it wasn't "Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité."
The Metro? I can't believe people use that thing to get around. Okay, the French I can see using it, because they probably don't mind, but God! As an American, I have to say, that place is the stank. Smells like body odor, garlic, body odor, cigarettes, and body odor. The Metro cars are like all these very 50's turquoise. So retro.
The Tour Eiffel itself is overrated, I think. Wow. It's really tall. It's made of metal. It's also crammed to the gills with tourists (not that I can really complain about tourists, I am one now.) It took us like three hours to make it up to the top because of the lines, and then once we got up there, it was SRO. I so totally saw a guy proposing to his girlfriend, though. Schmaltz.
Ms. Heritage (that's my Watcher representative) used the time to brief me on the situation as she knows it. Admittedly, she had to yell it all at me because of the noise, but I doubt anyone who shouldn't have heard her heard her. I could barely hear her myself. Apparently there's been a bunch of reports of disturbances in the fourteeth arrondissement or something. I'm supposed to investigate over the next two weeks.
The hotel is very posh. Well, posh for what I'm used to staying in. They've put us up in a two-bedroom suite on the fifth floor, which is actually the sixth, because they call the first floor the "ground" floor and then the second floor the "first" floor. It's so weird. She has the double bed, but I've got the TV. Not like it matters, because nothing on the TV makes any sense to me.
I made Ms. Heritage help me find an Internet cafe so I could update for you all. They're charging me €2 (or is that 2€?) an hour for access, which I can live with. I did the math and it's only like $2.50.
Well, okay. It's edging on towards dinnertime and I can tell Ms. Heritage is bored of listening to me type, so I'm going to go now. I'll see if I can't get her to bring me back here later. Or at least teach me where it is and how to get here. I don't completely understand the Metro, probably because it's all in French.
Why in God's name did they send me here, when I don't even speak the language. Chuh.
current mood:  disgusted
current music: type type type
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::8:14 a
Bonjour de Paris.
That's currently the full extent of the French I speak. Don't have long to update. Using a kiosk at the airport that apparently costs a lot.
Have to admit was not expecting to be greeted at baggage claim by Council representative. Is apparently here to help me get settled in. Who do I have to thank? Apparently someone told them I don't speak French.
Okay. We're going to Metro over to the hotel and drop my bags off, then go do a couple touristy things before the real work starts. More later when I find an internet cafe or something.
current mood:  exhausted
current music: airport intercom -- sounds like gargling
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[wednesday, april 14, 2004]
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::10:56 p
don't let the sun catch you crying
This is a night of lasts. Last night on American soil. Last night of American TV (oddly enough, there's nothing on.) Last night in my (okay, Rona and Chao Ahn's too) apartment with the hardwood floors and the bookshelves in the living room. Last night at home. Last night before I become a foreigner.
Last night with Marc for a long, long time.
My suitcases are packed and waiting by the door, both of them crammed full of clothes, toiletries, anything else I could legally take with me. I have a little folder that contains my passport, my boarding passes, my visa, all ready to go. I've said my goodbyes or will be saying them tomorrow at the airport. This is really happening. I leave tomorrow morning, have a layover in Newark, and then it's straight on till Saturday morning.
Is it too late to take it all back?
Okay, yes, I know, I have to go. And I want to go. I'm just having a little bit of pre-trip jitters. After all, I am flying to France tomorrow. Where I don't speak the freaking language. And once I find my Slayer, it's on to England from there. Where I will be living for at least the next six months. And maybe longer.
I will not break out in a fit of histrionics. I will not break out in a fit of histrionics. I will not break out in a fit of histronics.
Argh . . . not helping. I wonder if it's bad form to leave your boyfriend at your apartment while you track down something to kill.
current mood:  indescribable
current music: Sheryl Crow: Every Day Is A Winding Road [Sheryl Crow]
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[friday, april 2, 2004]
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::8:22 a
OH MY GOD.
What did that bitch freak do to my HAIR?
I have so much damage control to do. Starting with redyeing my hair.
*whimper*
current mood:  terrified
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