a very uncomfortable bed

a very uncomfortable bed
Originally uploaded by thejustini.

keeping up with all that i want to accomplish

a full-time job, it seems:

http://www.43things.com/person/thejustini

Marianne!

I found my old ballet buddy from Texas, Marianne. Our mothers went to the same high school; in fact my mother introduced her mother to her father. We lost touch after she moved to Amarillo as a teenager, and then she went to Austin when I moved to Holland. Marianne is now some kind of artiste, a folk singer slash playwright. She picked me up from Fulham Broadway and took me to a barbeque at her guitarist's house. Leon was grilling up sausages, which was a gift from the gods, as I was famished after having only 2 crackers and about eight grapes all day. Marianne and I each had a bottle of Spanish red wine, and got ridiculously drunk, or caned as they call it here. Leon then took us to different pubs. Marianne was in the middle of a band drama with the other female member and her husband of her band, so we sent naughty text messages all night. There's drunk dialing, but we were drunk texting, which was apparant the next day when we read how we were too drunk to "boycycle" home -- the freudian slip here apropos... We ended up spending the night on Leon's uncomfortable futons. I remember thinking it was weird to be sleeping in a part of London I had no idea how to locate -- was it North? East? West?. Marianne and I woke at 8 am, and kept talking like silly schoolgirls about boys and men. Leon was asleep, so I did the dishes. Marianne kept telling me it was so "Texas of me," but it was the least I could do after his kind babysitting, and all the cups of tea he made for us post pubbing.

Marianne and I went then, unshowered and horribly hungover, to have coffee at the Flea Pit (unforunate name) at the Columbia flower market. It was fantastic. I loved the servingware the cafe used. Very 60s and 70s and all mix and match. Outside it was a beautiful market with beautiful flowers. She bought me two orchid plants for my room, and some heather for her own garden. We stopped at a place to have cupcakes which made me feel like I was in kindergarten when it was someone's birthday and the mom brought cupcakes for the class.

After walking through the hip crowds and pretty ferns and plants, we went to my place and then walked through my neighborhood which is actually INTERESTING!!!! I haven't been to the north part of Camden where all the markets were... Wow! She also showed me Primrose Hill, which is upscale and sedate, but more importantly adjacent to Camden. Tuesday I will go back and apply for cafe jobs there.

To cap it off we had a fantastic dinner at Belgo, where I had BELGIAN food!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mussels and frites, creme brulee, more wine... I was in heaven! She also reminded me of something important: she said that it was okay not to know what I wanted to do with my life, as the most interesting people in the world don't.

Marianne and I are doing the flower market thing as our Sunday ritual. It was great to hook up with an old friend, one from Texas no less (here come the accents...), and see London with a pro. Magnificent day.

Spa Red and hello kitty calendar - 2 of my favorite things

“PLE yee EE ease”
So glad I have my iPod. Whenever I start to dream about soft, expensive sheets and a comfortable bed, I have Bono’s voice bellowing, overtaking my brain and steering it away from languishing desires.
“PLE yee EE ease.”
“Get up off your knees, now. PLE yee EE ease.”
I love Bono.
Nobel prize nominee.
Artiste.
Saint.
Sinner.
Meglomaniac.
Kind-hearted one, though.
And a great drug, too.

Here is a list of things I wish I brought:
Salad spinner
Brita water pitcher
Gigantic fluffy mattress pad
Duvet
Pots & pans including steamer
Outlet converters

Things I need to get
USB key
Fitness membership
Scissors
Duvet
GIGANTIC FLUFFY MATTRESS PAD
Nail polish remover
Internet access
Sweaters!
Mobile phone
Stylish walking shoes

Things I am glad I brought:
Photos of Alex
All my jewellery
Vivid Crest toothpaste
The poster Mel bought me of Ft. Worth museums
Pens
Hello Kitty calendar

Things I am pleased to have found:
Cafes in walking distance
Sainsbury’s
Douwe Egberts coffee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Spa Red Sparkling Water
Mature Cheddar cheese
The “Lite” newspaper, it’s free and has an incredible gig listing
The 99p store
Gorgeous old buildings
Inspiration to do well.


The austerity program is working fitness-wise. My diet consists of rye crackers, extra sharp cheddar cheese, black currant yoghurt (with probiotics!), red and green grapes, coffee, apples and Belgian sparkling water. Combined with my refusal to pay $3 for a bus ride, my pants are already baggy and my cheekbones and dimples are becoming more defined. I notice I smile more.

Spa Red and hello kitty calendar - 2 of my favorite things
Originally uploaded by thejustini.

running around

I’m running out of money fast. In fact, after all the necessities: train rides, contact lens solution, coffee, etc. I am down to £20 until my funding posts. There is something about poverty that is helpful. It forces you to stop taking things for granted and debate how much you want something. Internet access in the dorm (£70) becomes a luxury. Since I am without a duvet & nearly froze my first night despite wearing flannel pajamas and socks, plus layers of towels, I actually took an abandoned blanket in the hall. Never in my life would I have taken someone’s discarded bedding, but the blanket was soft, cream-colored, and appeared clean. Plus if it stays on top of the bedspread, I don’t have to touch it…Anyway. It’s funny how you adapt to circumstances. Appropriate, since I am in the land of Darwin...

Attempted to open a bank account. Probably one of the most tedious processes in the world. You need to deposit £2000 to open an account. My department can’t give me funding until I have an opened an account, so I am in the middle of a Catch-22. Has to be resolved by October something or I have to leave school. I don’t mind not eating, but this is worrisome.

Met with the European Studies department, or as they are abbreviated on my ID card: Euro Studs. “So, what do you study?” “Euro Studs.” Judging from the French boys I filled out my bank forms with, that might be true!

Registered for a doctor. I am now part of the NHS.

Scouted for jobs. Holding out for a bar/pub position.

Looked at the gym. Gorgeous, but only 2 yoga classes. Which are 2 more than I currently take…

Still need to find out about the Italian & French classes. Ho dimenticato parlare italiano.

Flying - Camden - Room

British Airways has comfortable seats. So. I’m in 29C. A British guy, cute, with nice skin and a hip, green Puma jacket and short cropped hair is in 29A. No one sits between us, so we throw all our blankets and pillows there. The guy talks about his recent trip to Las Vegas & San Francisco, and asks my reasons for going to the UK. He later asks me what my husband thinks of my year-long venture to London, which confuses me, then I see I have my Grandmother’s wedding ring on my left hand. I explain my utter lack of desire for a husband and he laughs. The sun has long descended so I shut my tired eyes, leaning against the headrest. I feel his hand lightly brush against my arm. Then again. I narrowly open my eyes, and I see him inching his hand across the empty seat towards my elbow. He flicks his hand across it twice. Did this 27 year old forget when I told him I was 40? I turn away pretending to be asleep, and finally fall asleep. When I wake up, I find my hand in his! I ran to the bathroom where I splashed water on my face until someone started banging on the door. By then the breakfast service started so we had to eat, give back our trays and trash and then, finally, land. I was so flustered by his overtures. He put his phone number in my bag. I won’t call, of course. But I admire his boldness. At least he's clear.

The immigration officer saw my scholarship letter of support and told me it was one of the largest she had ever seen. Nice.

There is a quality about England that is hard to describe. Archaic and antiquedated come to mind. So does old. One gigantic flea market might describe it best. England seems like it was constructed out of rummage sale artefacts: too small pipes. Faded wallpaper. Old-time phones. Antique-looking lighting fixtures. Ancient, red bricks. Still it’s familiar, like a Great Aunt’s easy chair.

Camden is pretty working class. Lots of junky stores with second rate household goods. A Caribbean man inside a phone store, in a nice suit and starched shirt, pushes phone service. Outside, a sea of different ethnicities and ages waits at the bus stop. There was a crazy man jumping between passers-by saying “I love you.” It made everyone nervous. Grandmothers push quilted shopping carts with their groceries and flowers. A reminder of what’s important in this world: food and flowers.

There is a definite shift when you get near campus. More banker types. Lots of people on cell phones. Suddenly, traffic is furious and there is a bustle all around. I like both neighborhoods. And I like the walk.

So my room. When I got off the train with my 180 pounds of luggage and navigated King’s Cross without an elevator (ergo the twelve bruises on my arm), I nearly collapsed at the residence hall reception, when they told me that they had no rooms. I grabbed the manager by the shoulders and said “Sweetie, do you want to see a grown woman cry?” He acquiesced and showed me a room that wasn’t ready. It looked like a prison cell. Or one of those Japanese capsule hotels. I came back to the manager and batted my eyelashes yet again and did my best Texas drawl. “Do you have something a little bit bigger?” and he gave me the 2 bedroom apartment on the third floor. This means I share with only one other person. As opposed to 3, 4 or 5 people. Can you imagine me, the shower queen having to share with 4 people? I would be the roommate, er sorry, flatmate, from hell. My room is cute. It is squarer. Has a sink, desk, nightstand, armoire. The bed is the size of a Snickers bar and feels like it is made entirely of springs. Luckily jet-lag allows you to sleep anywhere.

There is something both terrifying and exhilarating about being in London not knowing anyone, especially while being without internet or a phone. If I was hit by a bus (plausible scenario given the counter-intuitive traffic patterns)… would anyone know to look for me? But as soon as you realize that you don’t HAVE to die anytime soon, you see how pleasant it is to be anonymous and invisible. I can finally reinvent myself.