Wandering about ...

So Ready to Pitch Self Out Window

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 03:23:20 GMT

Things are going not well. This is, in and of itself, not unusual. However, I've suddenly realized that I am once again completely without a support system. I don't even have anyone I can go to for a hug, for goodness sakes. Wandered down the hall, sat on a friends floor without being able to explain that I needed help, and then cried at my roomate for five minutes. Am terrified that I'll fall to bits again, because there is no room for error here and I make a lot of errors when things get bad. Also, am just terrified in general, because that's what happens when things get out of control.

I don't know how to tackle it anymore, and I can't go get danish in the middle of the night. What the hell am I supposed to do about this? I can't even go to a counsellor - what am I supposed to do, walk in to my first appointment and say 'Hi, I'm Kate, and I'm sad. School stresses me out.' ? School is stressful, this is a fact of life. Mom keeps telling me that my life will never be easier than it is now, and that it simply doesn't matter that I'm unhappy. I don't want to waste an hour of a counsellor's life when there are people who have actual problems and manage them a lot better than I do. So instead I will waste space on the internet, because that is what it is there for.

In short: I'm panicking about nothing, and I know it, but it's easier to write about it than to just try to breathe it out. Or punch something. Because I already scratched a bunch of skin off of my knuckles.

For Those Intimidated by Length of Previous Post:

Tue, 27 Nov 2007 05:21:09 GMT

Things:

Am going to Guyana in February/March to volunteer on HIV awareness project. Am ecstatic - job talking about HIV! All others probably ecstatic as well - will have nothing left to tell to them!
Am still working at administrative job. Turns out, am good at it (?!). Really, have made self indispensable through clever deployment of pretty pretty graphs (Technique gleaned from PHD comics). No one else willing to spend hours cutting/pasting data for graphs intended for management, actually live in recycle bin.
Would be making good money at job, except must leave job constantly for various medical appointments. Being shot full of things for trip. Am now immune to EVERYTHING. Am super-bionic? Extra-bionic? *Flexes arm muscles, as brain muscles have atrophied.*
Took GRE, craziest test implementation ever. Could not leave room without escort. Supposed to wave to attract attention of escort on video camera. Waved. Waved wider. Waved as only Kate can wave, in middle of street trying to attract attention of individual heading other way. Left seat, waved and jumped up and down in front of glass wall. Banged on glass wall. No movement from administrator, playing jigsaw puzzle on computer. Left room without escort.
- Note: had until this moment forgotten about online jigsaw puzzles. How is this possible?
Gym 5 times per week. Knees giving out, feet complaining, wore through 2 pairs gym pants. Now must wear actual pajamas to work out rather than pants strongly resembling pajamas. Mother has not yet noticed, but outfit still v.v. uncomfortable.
Miss all of you very much. Getting grumpy due to lack of entertaining conversation. Party last week, laughter generally resulting from 'see-food' joke at table during fondue. Not used to feeling grown up. Also, claws made of fondue forks caused no amusement.

Updates on Me-ness

Tue, 27 Nov 2007 05:04:45 GMT

Well hello there. I am alive. And well, all things considered. Except that I have no funny stories to share. NONE AT ALL. Except for one that isn't funny to me yet, because the transit cops tried to check my bus pass this afternoon, only it wasn't supposed to be in my pocket, because it always falls out of my pocket, so this morning I zipped it into my backpack. In a pocket also containing a bunch of old transit transfers, my wallet, my keys, both glasses cases, old gum packages, several packs of Halls (they were on sale - I cannot resist a sale), my new passport, receipts for my rabies shots, lip balm, both copies of my very torn up health card, my ipod, the wires that plug my ipod into computers, the protector thingies for the wires, various sets of dead headphones, and some unidentified papers. No bus pass. She was about to make me get off the train, clearly thinking that I was just stalling, when I decided to check my back pocket again. The thing is, I have a very clear memory of putting the pass in my backpack. I have NO memory of removing it and putting it back in my pocket. Because if I'd done that, I would have been checking all day to make sure it didn't fall out of my pocket. I do not understand.

No, I do not have rabies. In two weeks, I will never be able to get rabies! Because I am becoming rabies-vaccinated. It isn't a requirement for where I'm going, or who I'm going with, and it's brutally expensive, but it means that I never have to get those giant $1000 needles in my butt. And in some countries, they don't even have those needles. So what it really means is that I will never have to race to an international airport after having been bitten by some scary bat and buy a ticket back to Toronto so that I can arrive at a hospital within 24 hours to get the very big and painful needle. I decided this sounds like a good plan. Except that it's going to be hard to pay for the vaccine, because I haven't worked a full week in months. I've been going to too many bloody doctors appointments. The travel clinic, the doctor for malaria pills, back to the travel clinic, back to the travel clinic, the surgeon-ing place (I have a lump), back to the travel clinic, getting blood taken, back to the travel clinic. I'm no longer working out in a tank top, because I look like I've been abused. Apparently I bruise from needles. And my last needle was supposed to be two weeks from now, except that they are using a needle to pull out a bit of my lump to make sure it isn't going to kill me. Everyone keeps trying to reassure me that no one my age gets breast cancer, and that it almost certainly isn't, and that if it wasn't such a large lump (I keep wanting to shout 'I'm sorry! I swear, breast exams every month, for ever and ever, I promise!'), they wouldn't even bother looking. Except that I'm not panicking at all, and everyone else sounds much more anxious than me. This is only unnerving because I can't remember the last time I was in a situation where everyone around me was more anxious than I was. I require no reassurance at this point, but they continue to repeat over and over that it's probably nothing. I'm thinking of making a big sign that says 'I BELIEVE YOU. SERIOUSLY' but an interpretive dance might be more fun. It took me three tries to spell interpretive there.

Speaking of being anxious, I have taken no action whatsoever on the Masters front. I was so pleased when I finished SSHRC that I went into a sort of satisfied, procrastinating denial phase for a month. Now I'm back to panicking, because I really need to start applying to places very, very soon. And explaining to them that I wont be back in the country until April or maybe May so they really should hold my spot for me even if I can't accept any offers. On the upside, I wont be around to get rejection letters, so if everywhere rejects me, I'll just get smacked all at once and then get in the bathtub. Has anyone else ever tried these soap shavings? I have a tube of what seems to be shaved soap. It was a gift. I can't figure out what to do with it - I poured it in like bath salts, but it didn't melt or anything so there were just soap bits floating around. On the other hand, shavings, so I can't scrub with them either. It seems a terrible waste of soap to me. Reverse-tangent: for those of you that got NSERC, when did they let you know that you were on the A-list (vs. the B-list)? If I make the A-list, I wont be around when they reject me from that, either. By the time I get back I'll be so tanned and full of happiness from my HIV blathering and also full of ... what do they eat in Latin America? That is where I intend to vacation after my volunteering, but I know surprisingly little about the culture. Mostly I only know about the culture from 100 years ago. Although I can ask for ice cream, and also I can ask if there is meat in the soup. Or at least I have it written down somewhere.

Happy birthday to the one who had a birthday! Thank you to the one who donated to my fundraising for my volunteer thing! I have done the math. If everyone donates twenty-five dollars, I need to find 144 people to donate. Only problem: I don't think I know 144 people who like me enough to give me money, much less that many people who have funds to spare. Although I do like the number 144. Is anyone else desperate to take the square root and see what information you get from that every time you see it? Also, did anyone else see Friday's Numb3rs? Cane beating! Naked car-jacking! Chase scene in old folks home involving walkers and wheelchairs! COMIC BOOK! Perhaps my favorite episode ever. Hope things are going well in school for all of you ... November is an ugly time, but December always turns out lovely.

Well Hello There

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 00:09:19 GMT

Victories This Summer:

Have cried irrationally only TWICE. In TWO months. All are (unfortunately) aware of how incredible that is.
Went to gym twice this weekend, despite lack of parental nagging. On the other hand, have consumed 3 cinnamon buns and 1.5 litres ice cream. Also container of Pringles (low fat).
Signed up for Spanish classes. Went to Spanish classes for 8 weeks without trepidation (even the first one). Did homework most of the time, only skipped 2 classes due to laziness/feeling really yucky.
Pretty sure coworkers and supervisors don’t entirely hate me. No more can be hoped for at this time.
Have new lens prescription, new glasses, new meds, HPV shot, other mean and painful gynaecological things, blood taken, and am inches away from securing new health insurance. Clearly, am also inches away from being bionic woman. Hwaaah! *Makes bionic woman face, flexes (virtually nonexistent) muscles.*
Finally managed to mail modem back to Bell. Next task: get Bell to mail money owed back to me. Success unlikely.
Have saved some money, and am briefly debt free.
Have seen Ocean’s 13, Bourne Ultimatum, Shrek 3, all excellent. Also Pirates 3, less excellent. Yet to see Harry Potter as afraid it will be scary.

Not So Much With the Victories:

Have yet to figure out life.
Have yet to actually learn Spanish.
Have yet to figure out what happens when work lets me go in two weeks.
Have been spending like crazy. Repeating ‘rent in September, rent in September, about to be unemployed’ not effective.
Have yet to apply for overseas volunteer thing.
Have been hearing horror stories about what happens when one is open about mental illness and being on meds. On one hand, stigma will never end if no one willing to be open about it. On other hand, screwed if future employers find out, (illegally) reject for position. Wondering if overseas volunteer thing will reject based on meds.
Have failed to converse adequately with other human beings, particularly nice ones.
Continue to eat excess ice cream.
Cannot find pair of hiking boots in universe wide enough for feet. Nice people at store very close to giving up, telling me to hike in flipflops like all other tourists for gods sakes.

Apologize for the lack of entertaining-ness. No one here thinks am funny, is demoralizing.

Am Baaaack ...

Thu, 14 Jun 2007 01:11:57 GMT

I’ve decided to chronicle the adventures of the last two weeks briefly, because I have to tell SOMEONE about all the entertaining things which occurred, and no one here cares to listen. Partly, I would expect, because they were all there for the things, and partly because they don’t think they are entertaining. But they were adventures, and they were mine, so I’m writing them down. I have forgotten once again how to do a cut-tag, so you’re all going to have to put up with the enormity of the post. I have no pity, nor mercy.

Friday, June 1^st: Salvation Army has two addresses for me, both wrong, and fails to show up to pick up bed. Both parents very angry at me for this, but mother’s irritation increases later in the afternoon when convocation gown continually slides off shoulders. Obviously on purpose, because I want pictures to look ridiculous – has nothing at all to do with fact that shoulders are weirdly narrow and out of proportion chest. Issue has been confirmed by professionals, and explains falling off. But not sort of conversation had while standing in front of Summerhill with grandfather. Said grandfather, along with fused-spine mother, later watch as father and I drag bed through hallway and down stairs – in contribution, she shouts ‘watch your toes!’ at ten second intervals.
Occurs to me: if I heard someone else awkwardly refer to Uncle Mel as ‘my, um … grandfather’s … friend’ as often as I do, I might start wondering if he was my grandfather’s very special friend. Need new term for Uncle Mel.
Also Friday: develop a very odd burny/rashy/bumpy thing on arms. Mum’s only suggestion: body has decided not to tolerate sun. Useful allergy, considering Calgary and developing world. Weird bumps still around, must invest in numerous long-sleeved shirts in case permanently mutated. Mmm shopping.
Late Saturday night: invest in Danish and cinnamon buns from A&P. Danish, I shall miss you greatly. Only regret: didn’t eat more of them that night, may never see one again. Currently consuming large quantities of lettuce and cottage cheese.
Rainbow Airways: much chaos surrounding flight into island. No room in plane for extra gear, gas. Plan to leave extra key to Mel’s van with pilot. Discover extra key, carried for 6 years, not in fact key to said van. Mel displeased, self hysterical. Question: what car DOES key open?
North: Many, many mosquitoes. Had to go into island wearing full bug gear – hood, mask, jacket, pants. Jeep window held on with duct tape due to crash last summer (Robert in car at time) yet clock still works. Ride bumpier than usual, as nearby cottagers exploded beaver dam with dynamite. No apparent explanation. Rough on beavers.
Cabin: no jam. 2 large jars of cayenne, but no jam. 6 bottles Glen Livet, 4 port, 4 sherry, 7 rum, but no jam. Requests for jam by elderly relatives lead to conversations remarkably reminiscent of ‘why is all the rum gone’ scene in Pirates. Scene repeated when rum is put away for night.
Cabin: adults realize more than jam is missing. Begin slow spiral of panic resulting in prediction (theirs) that week will be spent hidden in sleeping bags (due to lack of gas, firewood, + cold weather) eating staples like oats and Nutella. Refrain from mentioning considerable practice in such situations.
Cabin: father casually mentions enormous leaks in boat as Mel heading out to fish. Later, see Mel standing in boat, wearing life jacket for first time in memory. Grandpa refuses to sleep until Mel returns safe, undrowned.

Have run out of interesting things to say. Cabin involved much reading, sleeping, more mosquitoes than can be conceived of with ordinary mind. Alphabetized spices. Arrived home to learn of recent crisis with Pi: bird believes family are birds, bird thinks spring is time to mate, bird has chosen father as suitable partner. Entire family currently engaged in pitched battle to trick bird into believing fall has come.

Miss you all, and my solitude. My new plan is to answer all questions with ‘Why would you like to know?’ to point out parents desire to criticize – has not yet proven effective. Had a pleasant meal this evening, suggesting that not all hope is lost – I recounted three whole West Wing episodes which they had missed, including the one which finishes with the line ‘Turkmenistan to US: We didn’t order these pizzas.’ Mother laughed so hard it took her 20 minutes to remember that she wanted to tell me I was using up valuable brain space with junk. Because of course, times and dates and tasks will stick just as easily as Josh shrieking about how the President of Turkmenistan is a melon-worshipping loon.

My Most Pressing Problem Is My Toaster Oven ...

Mon, 21 May 2007 15:11:32 GMT

... and so I should just calm down, right? It's a holiday, it's absolutely gorgeous outside, and I'm cowering from the universe at my desk because I'm anxious for no reason. Except that no one seems to want to buy my toaster oven, which makes no sense to me. They keep emailing me to find out whether or not it's still available, and when I say 'Yes! Yes! Look how pretty!' they fall silent. Perhaps my overeager response makes them wonder why I am so eager to get rid of the thing. I'm not, actually, because I'm using it to make my cheese on toast most days and it is very tasty.

One Might Assume ...

Fri, 11 May 2007 01:17:16 GMT

... that if a doctor prescribed one a medication which is KNOWN to become less effective over time, they might mention that particular fact. Even a little note in those extraordinarly lengthy warning labels would be handy. Because then, when one started to feel like depression and anxiety were spiraling out of control (and does spiralling have one or two l's?) one might think 'Hmm, perhaps I shall go see a doctor' instead of 'Oh crap, here we go again.'

I'm sure that my anger at that is at least mostly irrational, but it would have been extraordinarily helpful for someone to mention, just briefly, that my dosage was known to have a plateau-ing effect and would not help forever. Feeling more depressed and anxious without any good reason just makes you more depressed and anxious - this is not difficult logic to follow. And while I know I'm wrong, and I'm just feeling spiteful, [I am no longer feeling spiteful and of course felt guilty]. I'll feel horrible for thinking that tomorrow. But it's my brain, you know? You don't screw around with stuff like that. So right now, I'm angry. And wow, is that unproductive. So I vent into cyberspace, because who the hell wants to hear this stuff?

And why on earth would you put someone on a dosage that does that in the first place? Did the hysterics and the compulsive behaviour somehow indicate that this was a short term problem? Seriously, I'm done whining now.

In other news, chocolate frozen yogurt was on sale. I fear the freezie plan is failing. Skim chocolate milk was also on sale. At least I'm not making my tongue bleed with the malted milk eggs while the 'healthy' chocolate is available. It's too muggy to eat any real food, and at least I can pretend there's calcium in the frozen yogurt.

And finally, it appears I did, in fact, survive Canadian History. I must have done extraordinarily well on the final, because I didn't manage to pull out an A on any assignment this term but I squeaked through on the transcript. My average actually went up this year! Only 0.1 percent, but considering that two of my bio classes tried to kill me (by requiring things my brain seemed unable to comprehend or produce) I'm pretty pleased. Better living through chemistry, my friends.

Things Which Were Not as Good as They Should Have Been:

Sat, 28 Apr 2007 21:09:14 GMT

Loblaws danishes - at best, dry and too sweet. At worst, taste like evil. I am obviously familiar with the taste of evil, and so you should just take my word for it and never let the blueberry ones in particular go ANYWHERE NEAR YOUR MOUTH.
Loblaws cinammon buns. They look delicious, and are all moist and icingy, but they seem to taste of currants even though there are no currants. I have checked repeatedly. Why would something taste of currants if there were no currants? More importantly, why would anyone ever want anything to taste of currants? And most importantly, why does the icing which appears thick, creamy and delicious-ly creamcheesey ALSO taste of currants? There is no cream cheese here.

Therefore: NO LOVE, LOBLAWS. NO LOVE.

In other news, this post reminds me of a joke I was once told at camp. After double checking that there was in fact no power in the tipi, my counselor said "but you could always plug it into the currant bush outside." No one but me seemed to find this entertaining in the least, but I happen to think it was genius.

Testing

Wed, 25 Apr 2007 03:24:43 GMT

So we'll see if this works ... I thought I'd post the infamous email for posterity.

Hey, you two

I realize I've sadly neglected you and its horrible. If it makes you feel better, I haven't even written anything down for myself! I didn't make time for it and now I'm terrified that I'll hit my head on something and forget the whole trip. That's more likely than you'd think, too - there's something wrong with my equilibrium here and I'm covered in bruises. I can't get through doors or around tables, and I've fallen out of my desk chair more times than I can count. Clearly I don't have my roomate properly trained, because every time I smash something or fall down or shout she gets worried and caring and things, which she clearly doesn't need to be. She's quite lovely, though - second year bio major from Manatoulin Island. I'm blaming the wobbling on elevation, but I don't think that has any inner-ear ramifications, so I'm mostly just making it up.

Quickly, the field trips - my first Friday, we went to Westminster Palace (Parliament). They have this thing with field trips to London that no matter when your trip is or how long it takes, you leave the castle at 8 am and leave London at quarter past 5, so the afternoon trip meant we had the morning off. I went with Maureen, Megan, Scott and Colin (people you will hear a lot about) to the Tower of London. We managed the tube on our first try, and also started my massive project of locating all public washrooms in London. I can make a map for you if you ever need it. This one has pink toilet paper - the Europeans in general seem to be into weird TP. Incidentally, the stuff at the Tower is like waxed paper, but I didn't find that out for another couple of weeks. Anyways, we made it to the Tower, it took ages, saw Crown Jewels and where they executed Anne Boleyn and then headed back to the Palace, where we had an entertaining old man who believed in corporal punishment and limiting birth control and that Prince Charles was right in marrying Camilla and that the House of Lords should be reformed. We were entertained. I should mention at this juncture that Scott and Colin are Commerce majors, and that Scott and I had (in the 5 days we'd known each other) managed to have about 10 billion fights over politics as he is about as far right as I am left. I wave my hands and turn purple a lot. We had a few of those arguments over this entertaining tour guide.

Next day, up to London later because we were staying the evening. Bus tour into the East End, walking with Maureen and another girl to Buckingham Palace (in the rain), accidentally ran into a giant mechanical elephant which was touring the city as a piece of French installation art. I have pictures, but not good ones, because it was POURING. I rolled my pants all the way up, it looked ridiculous. Sprinted to the Globe to see Coriolanus in the evening - as peasants, and therefore standing in the rain. Cheap tickets, of course. This was when we discovered that my green rainjacket was not perfectly waterproof if I was in a downpour for several hours. My feet and pants were soaked straight through, but at intermission we discovered that I was soaked to the skin all over my entire body, which was a little chilly. The only thing that stayed dry all night was my program, in someone elses backpack. Play was GREAT, I was cold.

Classes continued through this time. Art History is BORING, although I can see why some enjoy it, and I'm trying really hard. I did my project on Botticelli, who I like, because theres a lot of crazy historical relevance that I got to talk about. History is good, we watch a lot of movies and I fall asleep (of course) and then the nice professor lady lends them to me so I don't miss anything. I've taken to drinking a Red Bull in class so that I don't fall asleep. My sister says my heart is going to explode from all the Red Bull. I hope not.

Ate chocolate that Scott and Maureen brought back from a tour of the Cadbury factory. Next weekend, I went to Albertopolis on the Friday, which was mostly looking at Victorian buildings. Wandered a LOT. Went into Harrods. I get funny looks from most security guys in most stores, but this one certainly took the cake. We walked out again pretty quickly. We went and sat in St. James Park for a long time, watching ducklings. They actually rent lawn chairs to people there, for the hour or for the year. We sat in them for a while, but luckily didn't get caught - if you can't present proof of purchase, they fine you. For sitting in the lawn chair. It was excellent. I can't imagine that the honor system is particularly effective there, but perhaps it works. Also there were ducklings. It turns out I am a HUGE fan of ducklings.

I am currently tired of relating my adventures, and I'm sure you're tired of hearing them, so I will continue in point form.

-Albert Hall: beautiful bathrooms

-Victoria and Albert Museum: not beautiful bathrooms

-Jack the Ripper tour: advised by professors to think about how the community might feel about being toured. Had phone books thrown at us from 5th story window. Didn't have to think too hard.

-Picadilly Circus: missed, somehow, during search for washrooms in tube station. Pay toilets, 20p. Emerged into Leicster Square, home of Swiss handbell music every hour on the hour. Also Falun Gong protestors and demonstrators, stupid teenagers mocking protestors, and ATTACK PIGEONS

-Leicster Square Redux: also home to Ben and Jerry's store, AND Haagen Daaz store. Dublin Chocolate Muslide TASTY

-Walk through Soho: many sex shops. Umbrella and cane store (i.e. BEST SHOP EVER only we are poor). Attempted to locate Covent Gardens, only in moment of sheer lunacy agreed to follow Scott's 'sense of direction' without consulting map. Missed Covent Gardens.

-British Museum: field trip - BIG COLUMNS. Located 2 sets of washrooms, neither great. Sensing a museum trend.

-History Paper: stayed up all night on Red Bull, changed topic morning paper was do, achieved :( 78. 1-2 page paper, prof's comments consist of half a page of suggestions on what else I could have included.

-Bonfire: many songs, sitting on wet grass. Discover mixing rum with grapefruit pop = tasty. Leave because no washrooms. After exit, Scott's roomate Jim takes drunken leap over fire, and goes down in castle history with broken ankle.

-Trip to Village Pub: delicious. Maureen orders spotted dick, Scott is male and laughs hysterically. Beautiful washroom - best in UK so far. Tasty meringue - discover new addiction.

-Brick Lane (east end of london): Thrown out of art gallery for attempting to use washrooms. Whole class charges into Burger King in search of toilets. Not pleasant. Interesting tour, followed by lunch at Indian restaurant with 5 people I don't know, 3 who hate spicy food and 1 with so many allergies he couldn't order anything but fries. Note: British disgusted with those who request ketchup. Ketchup = abomination. Have 3 hours in afternoon, no touristy ideas. End up on a washroom tour of London. Embankment - free but closed (pink toilet paper) so go to Trafalgar Square - free, open, semi-clean. Wander to Westminster, discover toilets there cost 50p - Mark refuses to pay p to pee. Wander to Wesminter Abbey, must pay to gain entry Abbey in order to use washrooms. Go to Criminal Courts across from Parliament buildings --> refused entry by 5 guards and a metal detector who are outraged when we ask for washroom. Forced to rephrase question requesting toilets, are sent to nearby park. Turns out toilets under park are also pay p to pee. I am willing to pay (although have used several washrooms already - clearly, giant lassie from Indian food bad plan). Money gets stuck in machine, so I sneak under barrier to gain access. No reprecussions. Leave washroom, tell boys "sneak under barrier, no reprecussions." Mark and Kabir attempt, are caught. Kabir pays. Mark continues to refuse to pay p to pee. We have managed to waste 3 HOURS walking from bathroom to bathroom. Arriving home, relate story to usual travel companions, who are unsurprised. Realize that we really do spend a good deal of time doing this every day. Seriously, I can draw you a map.

-Covent Gardens: 2nd try. Discover they are not actually gardens. Am disappointed. Also laughed at by other travelling companions (who were apparently aware).

-Imperial War Museum - receive faulty directions, get off at wrong tube station. Have no map, see no signs. Are deep in south London in sketchy neighbourhood, attempt not to appear lost. Get bearings, yet cannot figure out how to cross street. Arrive at Imperial War Museum with only 45 minutes left to see museum. Take fast pictures.

-Trafalgar Square and Canada House - many pigeons. Pretty fountain. Canada House is known for the cleanest public washrooms in the country, but I have not yet had time to verify this.

-National Gallery - pretty. Saw Venus and Mars, my favorite - impressed professor by analyzing technique of Botticelli. Next: impressionist wing, went slackjawed and sat for hour murmuring "pretty" ... attempted to buy cappucino. NEVER DRINK BRITISH COFFEE. TASTES LIKE EVIL.

-Portsmouth Harbour, Royal Naval Dockyard: am deserted by only 2 ship enthusiasts, both with too many essays to write. Attempt to enthuse self. Unsuccessful. See many big boats. Take picture of Megan with nice sailor boys - picture turns out badly, am distraught. Eat ice cream. Enthusiasm returns.

-Chunnel: creepiest experience ever. Locked in bus in box on train in underwater tunnel

-Calais, France: best experience ever. Arrive at hostel, gong show as professors attempt to check in and distribute towels to one hundred sleepy teenagers. Follow Scott to lighthouse - sense of direction improved. Remember fear of heights. Proceed to be terrified for next 1.25 hours, while taking pretty pretty pictures. Descend while singing "There was a moose" to distract self. Go to beach. Jump in ocean. BEST HOUR EVER as jumping in ocean accompanied by consumption of fresh out of oven baguette. Purchase more baguette, and comb city for open wine store. Fail to locate. Eat dinner in French restaurant - adorable babies dying of second-hand smoke. Maureen eats 150 mussels (behind my back, perhaps fallacy). Return to beach (avec baguette, sans vin) for ice cream and walk down pier. Takes 20 minutes to order ice cream in french. More wandering on beach, in dark. Am still carrying baguettes which no one is eating. Return to hostel, still carrying baguettes.

Next morning, up early, purchase new baguette and croissant, sit on beach. Drop baguette on beach, too sandy to eat, am sad. Scott arrives, offers new baguette, am happy. Grab baguette with sand covered mittens, am sad. Eat sand-filled baguette. Ambivalence. Board bus for Boulogne-sur-mer, still carrying 3 baguettes from previous day. Purchasing of said (stale) baguettes denied by all. Continue to carry baguettes.

Arrive Boulogne-sur-mer. Reject Scott's plan to hike far and visit Napoleon monument - in fact, reject all historical items entirely. Spend day with half of ordinary group (rejecting-learning half). Visit bag shops. Visit hat shop - MUST DO THIS IN CANADA. EXCELLENT. Visit chocolaterie. Conveniently, day is warm, chocolate must be inhaled to prevent melting. Visit grocerie, purchase strawberries. Visit many more stores, many marketplaces, purchase ridiculous quantities of pretty things. Spend hour searching for cafe with washroom. Locate cafe. Locate bakery with GIANT MERINGUES. Seriously, head-sized.

-best day ever.

And wow, that was long. Feel free to skim. Feel free to email me back with your last 6 weeks. Feel free to criticize my grammar or ask questions. I apologize for all of the washrooms, but they really are a pivotal point in all of this - they dictate tourist sites, paths of approach, luncheon spots. Also, they really do just have weird toilet paper here. I have to go to bed, as I haven't been sleeping properly. I have many pictures, although none of the ducklings. Miss you guys! Hope work (andree) and classes (maeghan) are going ok. Postcards are on their way.

Edit Number One: Ok, not so much with the cut the first time around. Take Two.
Edit Number Two: Not this time either. Going back to read the instructions once again. Take Three.
Edit Number Three: I'm going to try clicking a button. Aaaiiieee this is frustrating. Take Four.
Edit Number Four: Following the seemingly straightforward instructions is not getting me anywhere. Take Five.
Edit Number Five: I seem to have inserted cuts inside cuts inside cuts. Starting over.

Getting Started ...

Wed, 25 Apr 2007 02:44:55 GMT

So who can teach me how to make an LJ cut? Also, who can explain how I ended up with advertisements, when I just wanted the ordinary version with no ads at all? Is there any way I can retreat and get rid of them? Because seriously, the blinking and flashing drives me crazy.

Off to find interesting communities and things.