On the other hand

Oh, but I just remembered that I got paid today, so I'm currently the proud owner of £129 in cash. And I don't have to work all day tomorrow. It's gonna be okay.

Five degrees

I am currently five degrees of separation away from Zach Braff. I live with a guy who is sort of managing a musician who is dating a singer who is staying at Zach Braff's house while touring with Josh Radin, Zach Braff's best friend. Nifty, huh?

Tonight, I got scolded pretty badly at work. It was humiliating...and all a mistake. I was off at 7, so when another waiter signed on at 7, I headed out the door. I was a few steps away from the pub when the manager on duty called me back and asked who I had asked if I could leave. I hadn't told any managers I was leaving, so I stammered an apology. He berated me for a little while, and then I asked if it was okay if I leave, and he said normally it would be, but he was actually training another girl so he needed me on the floor. This was all said very angrily. So I followed him back into the pub with my tail between my legs, past the general manager and all the people I'd just said goodbye to, took off my sweatshirt and hung up my purse, and went downstairs to grab my apron out of the laundry basket. I went back upstairs and started tying my apron on while looking for my till key when the MOD came back in saying, "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were scheduled to be off at 7." He was embarrassed and felt like a jackass and told me I could of course leave, so I did. But all the way home, my heart was pounding. I feel like the jackass, but maybe that's just because I hate being scolded. I know there's something psychologically wrong with me that instead of focusing on the fact that I did nothing wrong, all I can focus on is the fact that I got scolded, but I don't know how to change that. Ugh, what a horrible feeling.

I came home and decided I needed a drink, but the opener thing on my can of pear cider broke off so I had to jam it open with a spoon...did not help my stress level.

So now it's just before 9pm and I'm alone and a little bit tipsy. But not happy tipsy. Stressed and PMS tipsy. Not quite so fun. Perhaps another episode of Gossip Girl will cure that.

Friends and family day!

Today was a very special day. An historic day, really. Today, the first Anthropologie in the United Kingdom opened its doors and cash registers to friends and family of employees. Since I am the significant other of an employee (wink wink), I got to go and preview the store. Woohoo!

I was going to do a whole photo story for you lovely folks back home, but then I forgot my camera. So I did one afterwards! I carefully thought out my wardrobe (okay, not that carefully, but you can see that I made an effort).


In the next photo, imagine that I'm pointing out a giant papier mache sperm whale hanging from the ceiling (but made with fabric instead of paper).


Now imagine that this picture of my bed is actually a picture of gorgeous Anthropologie bed set atop several logs of firewood (yes, the London Anthrop is catering to those Londoners who live out in the woods).

(New sheets courtesy of Patricia and Lars! I'll miss you guys.)

To be perfectly frank (am I ever anything else?), I found the store slightly disappointing. I guess I was expecting something more like the downtown Seattle store, but this is Regents Street in London, where everything is polished and top quality. While they sold the same items I'm used to and the store was full of artsy touches (i.e. giant sperm whale), I found it a bit too fancy for my tastes. I mean, that's not to say I won't be spending lots of time and money there!

I didn't buy anything today because my S.O. forgot to grab my special discount card, but I did identify several items that I simply can't live without. Well, I suppose I could live without them, but I am going to buy a very pretty (and horrifically overpriced) t-shirt for work. It's a marginally reasonable price with the discount.

Oh yeah. I have a job. Waitressing. Ugh. I looked for waitressing jobs because I didn't realize just how ridiculous the tipping system is in this country. I'll have to see whether the amount I make is actually worth the stress.

Here is me with empty hands (my wallet is happy).

Preemie head size

How big is a premature babies head? Or rather, just how small?

My favorite organization ever, Partners in Health, sent out a call for knitted caps to put on the heads of babies born in their clinic in the mountains of Rwanda. Of course, I couldn't resist, and promptly took up needles and wool to knit a hat using the pattern for preemies. But I'm not sure it's supposed to be this small.

Is a preemie baby's head as small as my fist? Or just larger than the top of a water bottle?



I hung out with Izzi and Tim and all their school buddies last week. I had a great time, but ended up going to a pub with a random boy who then asked me if he could be homeless on my floor. Weird. Tim mentioned that he enjoyed it when I referred to him on my blog and I said, "When did I mention you? Oh, you mean a year ago?" But then he said he hadn't read my blog in a while, so I promised I'd mention him so that he'd start reading it again. He specifically asked that I mention his [something] face, but now I can't remember what adjective he used. Pretty? Sexy? Funny? So there you are Tim, I have mentioned your pretty/sexy/funny face. Now you're like a celebrity!...among my mom and my sisters.

Karma

Two updates in one day! Wowsers! I must be really bored.

Yes, in fact I am really bored! I've been very needy as a result, constantly texting my friends to see who wants to come play with me. No one ever does :-(

Just kidding. I saw Holly this afternoon. She's moved back home to Sussex, so I don't see her as often as I used to, though she comes in to London a few days a week. I went in to school to meet her, and we discovered that the school had cleared out all the lockers to make room for next year's students. The put all the stuff people had left in their lockers on top of the lockers. Now, I never got a locker cuz I lived so close to school, but Alex had a locker. They were supposed to clear them out and return their keys weeks ago, but Alex never did. Her locker was jam-packed, as full as it could possibly be, and even had some of Holly's stuff in it. So Holly grabbed her own stuff from the top of the lockers, and we texted Alex to tell her. The stuff she had in there was data she'd collected for her summer project in Africa, so was kind of important.

I hung around the area for a little while doing some shopping, but as I was about to head home (which is now far from school), Alex texted back and said her stuff was really important and could I just pop it back into the locker. Well, no, the point of them cleaning out the lockers was so your stuff wouldn't be in there anymore! So I decided, since it was important to her (and I was mean and hurt her feelings on Saturday so owed her), I would grab the stuff and take it home with me. It only weighed, oh, 80 pounds. My arms feel like jelly. Er, jell-o. Dammit, those Brits are getting to me with their weird words!

But here's the thing: what goes around, comes around. As I was lugging a hundred pounds of Alex's stuff across London without her realizing it, she was listing me as her significant other so that I would have access to her amazing employee discount at Fancy-pants Store Which Must Not Be Named. Score!! I get my own card and everything, and no, I can't let you use it or Alex gets fired, just like that. So if anyone asks, I am dating Alex.

Yes/No

I'm trying to have a more positive outlook on life. Becky has been picking on me for years for always immediately saying "no" to stuff without giving it a chance. Recently, Alex told me that she was talking to our friend, Kate, and said "Kusems doesn't like the second Harry Potter book," to which Kate responded, "Does Kusems like anything?" Alex meant it as a funny anecdote, but it is definitely something I need to work on, the fact that I complain about everything and reject most things outright. Alex suggested the other day that the kind of boy I need is a Southern gentleman, and I scoffed outright before even hearing her out (also before remembering that she's Southern, so to scoff at Southern things is a bit of an insult to her).

There's a story arc in the British show "Skins" (fantastic show, by the way!) in which two of the characters make a deal with each other that they will be more positive. One of them is required to say "yes" to everything presented to her. So I've been thinking about that lately and I decided I need to stop saying "no" to things right off the bat without giving them a chance.

I went and dropped off resumes at a few local bars on Monday, and one of them asked me to return Tuesday for an interview. The interview consisted of the manager telling me that I have way too many brains and talking really fast about nonsense. He told me that he was having to prosecute some of his "Eastern European" employees for sticky fingers. The only question he asked me was whether I thought I could manage not to rob the till. I thought I could manage. So he had me back in yesterday for a three-hour trial shift, and at the end, he offered me a job. It's minimum wage and it's doubtful I'll make any tips (I made 6 pence in tips in three hours yesterday). I said I'd take it and he told me to come in today with passport and work visa and bank account info to set up direct deposit.

I was all ready to do that, but this morning, I chickened out. Going back to my new positive outlook, I tried to talk myself up and say, "Just do it. If you get a higher paying job next week, you can leave this one." But my gut was fighting it. It didn't feel right. I called Holly because she is imminently wise, even though I knew what she was going to say, and in the end, I called the guy and told him I wasn't gonna take the job. I felt a bit bad for saying "no" instead of "yes" in the end, but then I realized that I had given it a fair chance. I said "yes" to begin with when I dropped off the resume and did the trial shift. And I feel infinitely more peaceful knowing I don't have to go back into that place and work. (It was a super cheap sports bar, though decorated nicely enough, full of elderly alcoholics.) It wasn't right for me. I'm pretty sure I can do better and earn more.

Also, he wanted me to come and work on Sunday because it's a football game day, and I completely forgot that Sunday is Holly's birthday party. I knew her birthday was Sunday, and I knew I'd be working Sunday, and I've thought and talked about both without ever realizing they were the same day. Space cadet.

Okay, this means I need to drop off more resumes. TTFN!

Swifty

Holly took Alex and me to Bath last week (finally!) She used to live and work there, and her two cousins lived there with her, but one of them is moving to Australia, so she had a big "leaving do" (going away party). The city is GORGEOUS! if a bit resort-y. At the party, I started chatting to a bobsledder who went by the name "Swifty," and then we danced together. I think he could tell it wasn't gonna go anywhere, though, and as soon as the lights came up, he bunked off. Fine, whatever.

And then last night Holly received a text from her cousin that said:

"Kusems snogged Swifty!"

Has a charming ring to it, doesn't it? Holly turned to me and asked, "Did you snog Swifty?" We had already discussed the whole evening, and she'd been there anyway, but I reassured her that I had not, in fact, snogged Swifty. Still, I think that sentence will haunt me forever. He couldn't have been called Jack or Tom or Louie, could he? It had to be Swifty. There had to be a question of whether I had or had not made out with someone called...Swifty.

He was cute, though. And ripped.

Hey, look at me!

I moved into my new home today! The move went very smoothly thanks to wonderful helpers (Alex, Patricia, and Lars). I must apologize to Alex for doubting that she was going to wake up and arrive in time, when in fact, she arrived 10 minutes early.

My new housemates are so cool. We had dinner together and sat and chatted for awhile. Part of me felt like this was completely natural and comfortable and normal, and another part of me had to keep reminding the first part that in fact, it's totally out of character for me. This isn't normal! This isn't something any of my family members would do (except Amy when she went to live in the dorms). But I feel good about it, and I hope that feeling lasts a long, long time.

I'm attempting to turn over a new, positive-thinking leaf. My new housemate asked if I had any food allergies or preferences for dinner tonight, and I wrote back that I don't eat any beans (except green beans) and that I'll eat fish, but no other kinds of seafood. But before I hit send, I thought, "She's not going to make seafood. Seafood is expensive." So I deleted that part of the sentence. You can imagine my horror when I sat down to dinner and saw shrimp mixed in with the pasta. Too late to object now, silly, you'll have to grin and eat it. So I did. And you know what? It was alright. Do you see? Do you see what I'm turning into? Some sort of adventurous, take-things-in-stride sort of girl! Living with strangers! Eating shrimp! What will I do next, get body piercings? Bungee jump? Goodness no. Oddly, though, a couple nights ago I think I accidentally agreed to have a lesbian threesome with Carina and her friend. Oops!

(Don't worry, Dad, I won't follow through!)

And then God smiled on me...

...but it was a mean, malicious smile accompanied by a dastardly chuckle that said, "Let's see how she gets herself out of this one!"

Okay, I shouldn't be so mean to God. He is being pretty good to me.

You know how I was positive I wasn't going to get that flatshare? I was wrong. She emailed me Thursday lunch to say they liked me and wanted me to move in. Joy! Ecstasy! Relief! I responded that I was super happy, they were my first choice, I love you I love you I love you. And then Thursday night, Juliana texted me to say that her friend isn't taking her room, it's available to me after all...Oh joy. Oh ecstasy. Oh crap, I have a tough decision to make. I made a pros-cons list. I discussed with John, Alex, and Holly (Carina didn't answer my text message). Holly said that she thought I knew deep down what I wanted and she was right. In a perfect world, this girl lives alone. Or with a hot, intelligent, wonderful boyfriend, but you know what I mean.

So I woke up this morning and called Juliana's landlord to see what I needed to do to get her adorable Notting Hill studio. After some emails back and forth, he informed me that I had to have a UK landowner as a guarantor. Right, dealbreaker. I called Juliana. She told me I needed to upsell the fact that I'm still technically a student and that I have money from the American government. They are my guarantors! She talked to him and he seemed okay with it, so I called the flatshare girl and broke the bad news that I wasn't going to be living with them even though I'd already said I would. Then I went to the landlord's office to finalize the deal.

Forty-five minutes later, I walked out with nothing. It was like trying to buy a used car. "Well, my director won't like this," "My director won't like that." "You're a liability." I had agreed to pay three months up front, plus 10 weeks deposit (a heck of a lot of money, but I have it.) Could I get my parents or someone in America to guarantee me? Maybe, but I'm 27 years old and I shouldn't have to do that. Fine, we'll do. I start filling out an application. He goes to photocopy my passport. "Do you want me to photocopy your national insurance card as well?" I've never worked in the UK, so I don't yet have an NI number/card. "Ooh, 'fraid that's a dealbreaker. Also, that huge wad of money I've just asked you to pay? That's not gonna clear until Thursday at the earliest. When did you want to move in? Tuesday? Hm, too bad, here's your passport back."

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugggghhhhh.

I walked across the street to Hyde Park and sat down. Must get advice from someone. Carina's at a festival on the Isle of Wight. Alex is MIA. Tanya left for Guinea Bissau today. Family is only just waking up. I called Holly (not that she was my last choice) and she said to call the flatshare people back and beg them to let me come back. The worst they can do is say no, right? So I did, and she was lovely and said it was alright, I could still live with them. But I felt like a moron and a spaz and an unreliable git. I was sitting in the park feeling this way, wishing Alex was around or answering her phone (since I was in her neighborhood). I got up to go get some lunch and a runner a little ways off caught my eye. "Wow, that girl really looks like Alex." Granted, I was in her neighborhood and she does go running in Kensington Gardens, but what are the chances, in a city with so many people, that I would look up and see the one person I most wanted to talk to? She started jogging away from me, so I ran to catch up, not wearing running gear and carrying a purse and a bag, not to mention the fact that I was shaky from having waited too long to eat lunch. But she slowed to a walk and I huffed and puffed and finally caught up to her.

I told her the whole story and it felt good to talk about it. We spent the rest of the afternoon together and it was wonderful as usual. I love this girl. I'm sad I don't get to live a block away from her, but it's probably for the best because I'm sure she'd get sick of me always tagging along. She made a good point yesterday when I was agonizing over which one to pick. She said that if she had to do this year again, she'd live with other people instead of alone. Other people could motivate her to get out of bed before noon and go out and do fun stuff. And you have a wider circle of acquaintances. This is a new adventure for me, and I'm looking forward to it.

However, we were supposed to discuss details tonight but the girl isn't answering her phone. Now I'm nervous that my flip-flopping made her change her mind and think I'm unreliable. They are taking on a risk by letting me live with them, as I don't have a job yet and I'm not a student anymore. Then again, maybe I'm just being paranoid. Where things stand, though, it's not so bad. If I can't move in there on Tuesday, Kate has offered her studio to me while she's in Italy. And if it falls through entirely, Anita's houseshare has a double room available for really cheap. So I won't be homeless. God's still got my back.

Woes

Uggggghhhh...I went to see that flat. I loved it! It's wonderful and the two people living there are wonderful, but I have a sixth sense that they are not going to pick me. I just know it. Intuition or something. Poo. Pooooooooooooooo.

One of them holds a world record for organizing the biggest zombie crowd ever (or something like that). The king of the zombies was Noel Fielding. There is no way that the guy who holds the world record for biggest zombie get-together, which starred Noel Fielding, is going to want to live in the same house as me. Yes, it's true that they responded to my initial email because they were intrigued by my obsession with tuberculosis and me mentioning knitting as one of my hobbies didn't deter them either, but I'm just not cool enough to live with these people. And they won't let me know until Friday, but I'm supposed to respond to these other people tomorrow. What to do??? I don't want to settle for anything less than the best, but what if the best won't settle for me?

No, that's not the right attitude. I have never yet been forced to live in a place I didn't love. I can do this. I can find my sanctuary. It's out there somewhere.