Rough weekend

Whew, tough weekend. Those friends who haven't left yet are leaving today. All of them. I'm all alone...

Friday, my policy essay was due, so I had to actually sit down and write it. I thought it would take all day, but by noon, I had run out of things to say and I was at about 1500 words, so I wrapped it up and went to turn it in. I also emailed my TB essay to my tutor. Then I picked up the scores for my extended epi test. The thing about this test was:

1. the midterm test (back in Nov) was take-home, open-note, and I still got 4 answers wrong
2. this final test was in-class, closed-note, so I knew I'd get at least 4 wrong
   
3. the score doesn't count for anything, it's just to let us know where we are
4. they held a review session in class the day before
5. the review session did not cover certain details, so I figured they weren't important to learn, but then they appeared on the test
6. at the end of the review session, the professor said, "This test is really no big deal, so I don't want anyone worrying about it"
7. the test was awful and horribly hard and almost everyone came out of it dejected and surprised with how difficult it was

I felt like I was guessing on at least 50% of the answers, so I was sure that my score was going to be awful. Everyone else I talked to felt the same. Well, my score was a 17 out of 20. I don't even understand how that's possible! I guess I'm just one smart cookie.

Anyway, all this to say that I was feeling extremely pleased with myself on Friday afternoon. But there was no one around to share my joy with, so it kind of dissipated. I went home and watched tv online until 6:30, when Carina came over for pizza and drinks. It was our school's Christmas party that night, and we were planning on going dancing afterward.

The party was a bit, well, empty. We got there late and there was still not many people there, so we really didn't stay long. At one point, though, Carina said, "That boy in the jumper is cute. Let's go talk to him." To which I replied, "Um, no! You can't just walk up to a strange boy and start chatting him up!" But apparently you can, because Carina grabbed my hand and dragged me over to him and his friend to chat them up. Unfortunately, though, they were not very friendly boys and clearly did not appreciate the fact that two hot girls were chatting them up. Their loss!

Kate at the party, with a ridiculously large glass of beer.

Carina disappeared for a while, and returned with her brother. I was a bit surprised to see her brother in our crappy school bar, because he is used to hanging out in really posh places. For example, just the night before he had texted Carina to tell her that he was standing next to Rod Stewart. Later in the evening, he sent another text saying, "William and Harry are here." WILLIAM AND HARRY, PEOPLE!!!!!! But he came to our little, orange-painted bar to gather us up and whisk us off to Chelsea for dancing. We took a taxi! It was my first time in a taxi in London! When we got to Chelsea, we met Carina's brother's friend's friends, who were all Swiss. One of them shook my hand and introduced himself. When he heard that I was American, he said, "Oh, that's why you're distant." Um, excuse me? This guy turned out to be not very nice. Later in the evening, he insulted Anita's French, and not in a flirty, friendly way.

So, I had a good time Friday night, but by the end of the night, I was feeling like chopped liver. In the club, there were about 3 men for every woman, and all the other girls in my group were getting attention from the boys, but I got nothing! I danced for ages, and no one danced with me. The guys there would rather dance with each other than with me. All in all, I got the impression that men want nothing to do with me, and I think that mixed with too much red wine to make me quite depressed. I was hungover Saturday morning, and I just ended up moping in my room the entire day. French/English/Swiss Laura was going out for birthday drinks, and I had told her I would go, but I was still feeling really depressed when it was time to go. I thought going out might cheer me up, though, so I went. And you know what? It did cheer me up! I got to see a few of my classmates before they all leave for the holidays, so it was really good. The night ended early, though, and I was still feeling like being out, so I texted Carina to see if she was out and about. She invited me to a house party, so I went and I had a really good time. It also boosted my self-esteem, because a cute boy there thought I was cute (no less than two people told me that). Also, there was this other guy who introduced himself to me, and when I told him I was from Seattle, he said, "Oh, like in 'Battle in Seattle!'" (a movie about the 1999 WTO protests, starring Woody Harrelson.) Then he kept pulling other guys aside and saying, "This girl's from Seattle!" and they would all respond, "Oh, as in 'Battle in Seattle!'" I felt very popular for a while. So, Saturday made up for Friday, and I feel all better now. It is clear, though, that I should never go clubbing in Chelsea.

The house with the party used to be a brothel, and the
landlord painted this sign in an attempt to warn men
that the house was no longer a brothel.
Apparently, they still get guys ringing the doorbell
thinking they're gonna get some action.