The End of an Era

It's finally here. The end. It's been looming for what seems like forever, and yet I never really thought it would come.

The quickest of quick recaps:

I finished my work at SS Peter and Paul. Worked my tail off for two-thirds of a year, and grew strangely attached to my classroom, kiddos and colleagues. Not like me at all, I know. I learned at least as much as my kiddos did, or at least I hope they did, and now it's time to turn the page and start anew.

Cleaning, packing, and general chaos running amuck in my house and inside of me right now. I feel strange in this gap between the end of something and the start of something new. It's always hard to not really know where I'll be in the near future, or what I'll be doing. But I'm staying optimistic. Keeping my eyes on the prize.

Patrick and I head off to Holland tomorrow with plans for whole days of nothing but sunshine and blue sky and lounging in the fields with the cows (the latter be more my dream than his, actually). I am hoping the weather is good, and that we can enjoy to the fullest these next two weeks off. I plan to dedicate more of my time to reading and writing, and absolutely none of my time worrying or wondering about the kids I've left behind. Wish me luck on that last one.

Anyway, Cheers! To the end of an era, and a new beginning someplace different. Here's to hoping the next chapter is as good as the last one.

New Shoes

Months and months ago I wrote a post about my worry about settling in or simply settling. I was adjusting to a new routine. I was adjusting to adulthood in general, and I was struggling with it. I brushed it off and decided to just wait and see.

Recently I've started to compare my job, my happiness, and my satisfaction with my new life to breaking in a new pair of shoes; uncomfortable in the beginning but worth it in the end. I've put in hundreds of over-time hours and lost dozens of care-free weekends for the sake of my classroom and my students. I attributed the need for this extra effort to being an ignorant novice in a complicated world. But, like with a new pair of shoes, I was expecting it to be comfortable by now. Surely, after this long I should be settled in my new routine, comfortable in my classroom and feeling confident in my abilities. Only, I'm not... and I don't.

Do not misunderstand, I love my kids and the looks on their faces when they learn something new, especially if that something was tricky or something that they struggled with. Teaching is a noble and rewarding profession. Teachers are every-day heroes, and I will admit that I get a small  big enormous amount of satisfaction from counting myself as one of them. My ego is boosted any time anyone gives teachers the credit they deserve, or recognises the work that they do. Unfortunately, it doesn't happen often enough and I'm the kind of person who thrives on praise.

So now I wonder whether it's time for a new pair of shoes. Sometimes the shoe doesn't fit, no matter how long you work it or how badly you want it. And I'm kicking myself for settling in the first place. I hate that I took the safe road, instead of the one that I really wanted. I can't remember the last time I felt inspired to write and had the time and energy to actually do it. My passion does not lie in my classroom, but deep inside myself and I let myself down by bottling it up for a more convenient time. The cynic in me wonders why I don't deserve to be one of those people who loves what they do, enjoys going to work every day and feels fulfilled at the end of the day. The critic in me curses those who say that I have an unrealistic expectation of life. And the sarcastic b**** in me says that those people are the ones who settled themselves, and they're trying to justify their own disappointment.

I am finding it hard to inspire my students to follow their dreams when I can't say that I did the same. How can I preach that education is the key to their success and happiness, if I myself am so educated and still so unhappy. Asking my students to shoot for the moon and dream big leaves a bitter, metallic taste in my mouth. My clever kids are intuitive enough to throw the question back at me. "Hey Mrs Mac, did you dream of being a teacher?" And I lie to them, because telling them I failed myself just seems wrong.

I'm tired of waiting for "the right time" but I know I'm too scared and too proud to admit defeat to throw in the towel. It's nearly the end of the term, I know I need a break. But more than a break, what I really need is the courage to change my life.

An Account of the Transfer of Misinformation to Britain's Youth

I'm supply (substitute) teaching while here in the UK. It's just easier than trying to find a full-time teaching job. And it's generally a lot less stressful. My Monday-Friday work-time hours consist of bouncing from school to school teaching kids of all ages the wonderfully varied British curriculum. The benefit of this is I get to meet a lot of cute kiddos and see lots of different schools, teaching styles, and management systems. Funnily enough, this also means I get to witness a somewhat sad amount of misinformation transfer. This post is dedicated to listing these sad, but strangely comical instances.

• Let me preface this by saying that I used to consider this at the top of my mental list of misinformed teachers transferring incorrect information. But, recently it's difficult to say exactly which instance is the most deserving of the top spot, so I'm putting it in bullet points rather than a numerical list. Anyway, back in February I was at an ARK Academy in North West London for several weeks teaching a lovely group of Year 4s. (It should be noted that ARK is a company that takes over failing schools in disadvantaged areas of London.) Every Friday at this school (of which I was present for 3) one class would present an assembly of "What We've Been Learning." On the last Friday Year 6 students told the entire student body, faculty, and parents all they knew about the USofA, which included a comprehensive listing of all 52 states. That's right, I said 52 states. I've come to realise that this is a common European misconception. Still, I thought this was mostly the thoughts of some confused adults who were trying to sound intelligent. I swear I've had conversations with Europeans about the US and somehow gotten to number of them. Maybe it went something like this: Me, "Oh yeah. America is great. All 50 states." Snobby European, "Don't you mean 52 states?" (condescending emphasis on the 52) Me, "Um...no." So anyway, after a terribly inaccurate presentation about "Native Americans" (chalk full of stereo types, as illustrated by the wearing of feathery headdresses by all Year 6 students), the kiddos sang a song about the states and their capitols. This song was projected on a large screen behind the Year 6ers, but strangely only mentioned 50 States and 50 state capitals. After the song ended, we all applauded and the HEADTEACHER (aka the Principal) remarked that the song must be slightly outdated, as it failed to mention the 51st and 52nd states. The teacher smoothly replied that they were unable to find a song that included all 52 states. The icing on the top of the cake: the Headteacher picked a student from the Year 6 class to tell us their "favourite" state, to which the girl smiled and said, "Mexico!" *Insert face-palm here* It seems fair to mention that now projected on the screen behind the Year 6ers is a large map of the continental US, appropriately absent of Mexico. Rather than steering the conversation away from this poor girl who (hopefully) had been asleep during her History lessons that week, the Headteacher said, "Oh yes, that's a lovely state. What's the weather like there?" And the girl confidently said, "It's mostly cold and sometimes snowy. You know, like Canada." Perhaps Mexico and Canada are the infamous 51st and 52nd states? Here's that outdated song.

• Now for some science misinformation. Today I went to North East London to teach a really nice bunch of Year 3s. Midway through the morning, the two Year 3 classes combined to review for tomorrow's science test with a pre-test in the form of a PowerPoint. The lesson was conducted in a think-pair-share kind of way, and all was going smoothly until the question about astronomy came up. "How long does it take the earth to make one revolution around the sun? A. 24 hours B. 28 days C. 12 months." So the other Year 3 teacher, who was running the lesson, read the question through once more, emphasising the "around the sun ONE TIME" part, and then asked the kiddos to discuss with their partners, then vote for their answer by raising hands. I didn't count, but I'd confidently say that about 85% of the kids raised their hand to vote for A. 24 hours. No one voted for B, and only about 8 kids voted for C. 12 months. The teacher seemed disappointed, and I have to admit that I was too. She read the question again. Then she told them to think about how the sun rises in the morning and sets at night before rising again the next day. Now alarm bells started going off in my head. Red flags were shooting up. Basically, I was failing to see the connection she was trying to make between the sun rising and setting and Earth revolving around the sun. In the back of my mind, I was preparing for an epic *face-palm*. She read the question aloud for the fourth time and after a drum roll, confidently proclaimed that the answer was indeed A. 24 hours! The kids cheered. Well, most of the kids cheered. Those who had voted for 12 months looked at one another and seemed confused, but didn't say anything. The last time I corrected a teacher in front of her students I got my ass chewed, so I hesitated and felt very uncomfortable. I looked anxiously to the TWO other teaching assistants in the room, thinking surely they would highlight the teacher's error, but no. A group of kids sitting near one of the assistants must have said something like "really?" because I overheard the assistant reassuring them that their teacher was indeed correct. *Heavy sigh*

• Later in the aforementioned science test review PowerPoint, the question of irreversible changes of state came up. "Which of these is an irreversible change of state? A. melting a candle, B. burning a candle, C. melting ice cream." If you're clever you might see what's coming up. Before letting the kids discuss, she defined "irreversible change of state" by saying it's NOT like making water into ice, then melting the ice back into water. It was definitely the opposite of that. Ok, we were off to a good start. While the kids were think-pair-sharing, the teacher looked to me and mouthed "what is it?" and I replied by dramatically mouthing "B." Her brow furrowed. "Not ice cream?" she mouthed. I shook my head. At this point, it took a lot of strength to keep my palm off of my forehead. Kids voted, results were mixed and confidence was low. Teacher this time admitted to not being sure, but she said she was pretty sure it was "the ice cream one" and said that they'd save this question for after next week's lesson when they learned about it. Kids cheered. I sat silently shaking my head at the back of the room. Then, I remembered that we did indeed harvest ice cream from the arctic poles, and therefore she was probably right. Lord knows we've all experienced the disappointment of irreversibly melted ice cream.

Scotland, with a Distinct LACK of Hielan Coos

Last week Patrick and I took a jog up to Scotland to explore more of this island. Truth be told, we were hoping to make a trip over to The Netherlands to see his family (his plans) and feed some cows (my plan). Unfortunately, we didn't have our passports back from the Boarder Agency yet, and didn't put aside 20 days notice to request them for "emergency" travel. Honestly, if it's really an emergency, do you really have 20 days notice? C'mon UK Boarder Agency.

So, as I reflect on the week we spent up north I am going to try really hard not to dwell too much on the fact that my one reason for going (petting real live hairy coos) did not in fact happen. I am disappointed. Good ol' Patrick is such a good sport and did a good job being patient with my disappointment and trying to cheer me up. He has promised a full day of cow petting come May when we actually do go to Holland. See how I put that in writing? There's no going back now, Pattycake.

Right, so about the trip.

We left early on Monday morning to catch an 8:30 train from Euston up north. The trip only took about 4 and a half hours, which isn't nearly as bad as it had been rumoured to be. Patrick studied for his exams later this month, and I listened to music and stared out the window. At this point in the trip, I was bouncing with excitement imagining the hairy cows that would soon love me as much as I loved them. We arrived in Glasgow a bit before 1 and walked the short walk up the hill from the train station to our hotel. The place was a bargain, and so I wasn't expecting much. I loved it. I will stay in a CitizenM hotel every chance I get. I've already written a rave review on Yelp, so I don't feel the need to praise it too much here. Let's just say that if you've ever traveled in Europe, you'll know what to expect out of a hotel room, and would be just as refreshingly surprised as I was at the accommodation at CitizenM.

SO, we checked in, played with all of the buttons on the remote in the room that controlled everything from the TV to the lights (which changed colour), ate some of our food, and then decided to walk to a nearby park. (I had heard rumours that some parks in Scotland had a resident Highland Coo. This was 100% of the motivation for going to the park.)  Weather was nice, for Britain anyway. Cloudy but not too cold and not raining. I guess local Scotts would probably say that's all you can expect from weather in Scotland.  After a stroll through the park (no cows spotted, though, not even a large enough field to house one) we found the local McDonalds, as per tradition, ate dinner, and found a local supermarket to buy food for the next day. Traveling is much cheaper this way, by the by.

Tuesday was an all day tour up into the Highlands.  We saw bens (mountains) and lochs (lakes), fed wild red deer, tried to spot Nessie, and poked around tiny Scottish towns. Note, I mentioned nothing about cows. This was the day I was most deflated. Returning back to Glasgow was a very sad and slightly grumpy Kiersten, and an every patient and optimistic Patrick. Where would I be without him? Tuesday was also Ben&Jerry's FREE CONE DAY! Which was the proverbial carrot at the end of the stick, and so pretty much the only thing keeping me going. Glasgow, despite being the shopping capitol of Scotland, is fresh out of Ben&Jerry's scoop shops. I was having flash backs to my days in Phoenix, where the only Ben&Jerry you could find was in the freezer section of the grocery store. I huffed and shuffled back to the hotel, flopped on the bed, and had a proper dramatic cry and wallow. By the time I was ready to face the world again, it was nearly 9 pm. We headed down the street to a place that supposedly had all-you-can-eat BBQ Ribs. Tummies grumbling, we walked through the restaurant door just past 9 only to be told that the kitchen closed at 9 due to a lack of customers. Tuesday wasn't my day. We wandered aimlessly through downtown Glasgow, settled into a pub and had some surprisingly delicious food. Maybe it was the hunger, or maybe my lamb-shank pie really was delicious.

Wednesday- board the train for Edinburgh. Upon arriving, we struggled to find our way through the hilly winding streets to our hotel. Patrick once again saves the day by dragging our suit case up and down the cobblestone hills with very little complaint. This hotel was fine, but not nearly as fun as the colour-changing CitizenM. We dropped our stuff, took a nap (it's a vacation, after all) and then explored the nearby Edinburgh castle, which is apparently Scotland's most visited attraction. A steep £16 ticket price kept us on the outside of the drawbridge though. We saw some cathedrals and churches, and I took lots of pictures of old doors for Mommy. Then we went to a highly recommended Italian restaurant for dinner. Delicious meal, great service, and a perfectly American banana split and apple pie dessert combo lead to more rave reviews from me on Yelp. We went back to the castle to see it in the dark, took some pictures of the city from the really high hill where the castle is, and then found our way back to the room.

Thursday was Zoo Day. We woke up, found a Starbucks, then hit up the local grocery store to buy more food supplies before finding the bus that would take us to the zoo. Upon arrival, we booked a complimentary Panda Viewing and then explored. The zoo had only just opened, so I'm going to say that was why all of the animals were still sleeping in their indoor houses. The "hoof paddock" section of the map seemed to promise at least a cow of some sort, so we trekked up the hill only to find a really over-grown, really empty field of nothing. One sad looking llama was inside the barn, probably wondering where all of his friends had gone. Patrick saw his favourite, penguins, and then we went to our Panda Viewing. We were herded into a small room with about 50 other people to maybe get a glimpse of female Panda who had been hiding all day. Apparently the 1:30 pm viewing was no different to her, and she remained behind the scenes. The "Panda Expert" tried to console us as he lead us to the male panda's home and explained that the pandas had free will and access to their indoor enclosures at all times. I don't think I was the only disappointed tourist in the bunch. Male panda was sleeping on his platform, barely visible. All I can say is, it's a good thing I've seen pandas before other wise Patrick probably would have had find some Ben&Jerry's pretty darn quick. After we left the zoo, we went back to the hotel to read more reviews on Yelp about where to eat for dinner. (I think Yelp should be paying me a premium for all of this free advertising they're getting here.) We settled on pizza which got good reviews and was just across the street. WORST. PIZZA. EVER. Seriously. Bet your buttons I wrote an evil review when we got back.

Friday, sleep in, check out late, and grab the train back to London. Excuse me, I meant grab the Party Train back to London. Apparently something was going on in Newcastle that was attracting lots of old men in Hawaiian print shirts. And apparently it wasn't acceptable to arrive at this event sober, so you had to get pissed on the train. As soon as we left Newcastle, I slept, Patrick studied.

Wow, that turned into a novel of a post. No room for more than a few pictures.

Red deer checking out the new camera

The highlands

The many versions of Nessie

Our magic colour-changing hotel room

In front of the castle in Edinburgh

Doors for Mommy

Settling In or Settling Down?

First, let me just get it out there; yes, I know it's been way too long. Yes, I know I should post more. Y'all wanna know what's going on and my future potentially-alzheimer's-suffering-self wants to know what was going on. Sorry y'all. Sorry self.

So, as I sit here on the edge of my Easter holiday, reflecting on what I've done with my life since returning back to London as a married woman, I am saddened to find my memory unusually empty. I came back to London after Christmas break and I was exhausted from that whirlwind of a vacation. I took the last week of my winter break to settle back down into my "real" life. What the *bleep* was I thinking? Settle down into "real life?" What does that even mean? Who decides what "real life" is? ME! That's who!

I just re-watched the Pep Talk video on my pervious post. I've been wasting time. Yes, I have bills to pay and obligations to meet, but I also have dreams of adventure and a life worth remembering. I've wasted too much time on the things that need to get done and left no time at all for the things that will make my life something to tell people about. As it is, as it has been lately anyway, no one wants to hear about what I've been doing. That's why I haven't been posting. But I'm not going to let my dreams slip through my fingers because I'm too busy.

It's been a long, desperately cold and wet winter here in England and I'm dying for some sunshine. It doesn't look like it's going to get here any time soon though, so I decided to stop letting the weather hold me back and I bought a proper rain coat. Seriously, I am in love with it. Probably more than a person should be in love with a piece of clothing. I also bought a new camera to help me document my forthcoming adventures. I hope these things will help me to stay motivated and to remember that settling into a life of an adult does not mean settling down with a life that I don't want.


Here's a picture of my new coat. We're going to go on so many adventures. Starting with a trip to Scotland in just a few weeks!

And my camera is still in the mail somewhere between here and Russia, but here is the ebay image of it:

I'm pretty psyched to learn how to use it and to get photographing again! I can't remember the last time I took an analogue photograph. I know, I'm pathetic.

Giving the World a Reason to Dance

I can't believe it's February in just 2 more days. I've been off the grid for a while. Well, not really. Just off of the blogging grid. Life started to flood past me a few months ago and it was all I could do to keep my head above the water. Excuses are lame. Moving on.

Events of my life since my last post, in a bulleted list so short it could fit in a nutshell:

• Home for Christmas
• Spontaneously married the most wonderful man (shell too small for details--stay tuned)
• Applied for British Residency
• Lost an amazing Uncle to cancer

The rest that fills in the gaps isn't important. If it were, I'm sure I'd have something more to say about it. This post isn't really about anything more than me wanting to remind myself that the blood in my heart and air in my lungs is enough for me to conquer anything. No more excuses, no more focusing on the obstacles. I'm looking through it all and remembering to take time to feel my own heart beating in my chest. And in case I forget, I found an adorable video to remind me. Gotta give the world, my world, a reason to dance.

Looking Forward

I try my best to be in the here and now. I try to remember to focus my mind on today and I try to keep in mind that tomorrow is not guaranteed and as such should not steal any of my energy. However, I'm struggling at the moment to remain here, now. I am anxious about that future. I blame the cloudy uncertainty ahead. About a year ago I also had no idea what the future held and I was a-ok with that. What's different now? Nothing really, except this overwhelming feeling of obligation that's pressuring me into figuring my sh** out.

Anyway, this post was not meant to be a rant about how I still have no idea where I'll be in a month, and how I am still waiting for someone to give me a chance to prove I'm the teacher I claim to be. Rather, I meant to make a list of the things I want to achieve in the near future. And by "things I want to achieve" I really mean places I want to go. For some reason, my mind is fixated again on travel and moving and adventure.

1. Denmark
2. Sweden
3. Spain
4. Thailand

I don't want this to be a list of places I want to someday go. No, this is a list of places I will go to before the end of 2013. Thailand is all but settled, we've been dreaming of that for months. Spain just sounds warm and sunny and thus so appealing when we've been shivering in the flat for weeks now. Sweden is Sweden and so I must go. Denmark: see reasons re: Sweden. 

I find it ridiculous that I haven't been anywhere exotic since June's trip to Iceland. That trip was amazing. Money is tight, and that's why I spent my entire half-term break lesson planning on the couch rather than gallivanting off to a near-by foreign town. So, now that I've taken a moment to set out my future goals, I hereby resume focus on the present moment.

Unacceptable

A list of several unacceptable things:

1. No blog updates in over a month
2. Being sick for almost 3 straight weeks
3. Feeling guilty about missing 1 day of work due to the aforementioned sickness

Excuses for the unacceptable:

1. I'm half way done with my 4 week-long assignment as a "long term" 1st grade supply teacher at an inner-city school. Much busier and much more hectic than I had originally anticipated, but I am adapting and doing a pretty good job.
2. A constant bombardment of germs from 29 6-year-olds who, as adorable as they are, don't understand personal boundaries and thus often crawl up onto my lap and cough/sneeze in my face while proudly showing me their latest achievement...or just complaining about how so-and-so pinched/hit/kicked/etc./etc./etc. them.
3. Um...this is probably due to the fact that I hold myself to a higher standard. And because I don't feel too sick to work but the good ol' conjunctivitis and yellow/green snot is signalling contagiousness and  holding me back.

In short, I've been either too busy or too sick to post anything worth posting over the past month. The search for a permanent position continues, with high hopes that something pans out quickly as time is really running out. Also, flight tickets home for Christmas must be purchased before the weekend. Dates coming soon.

Happy Anniversary

Happy Anniversary to me! That's right, I know. It's crazy. I can't believe it either! A whole year of living on my own in a foreign country. Who would have thought I would survive. Oh, I survived. Not only did I survive, I thrived. So much so that I'm still here and will be for a few more years at least. Long story short, I love my new home-away-from-home and I'm ever so glad that I made this leap of faith. I've met some really wonderful and amazing people and I'm proud to call them friends. Three cheers for making it through a year of real independence! Hip HIP!

Put the kettle on, let's celebrate with tea and cake!

Banksy Bust aka The Day One Cup of Ice cream Changed My Life

On sunny Sunday Ulfie and I decided to go on a Banksy walk around North London. It was something we'd wanted to do since arriving and since Ulfie's days in London are running out we thought we would take advantage of the bright skies and warm weather. We went all the way to Bethnal Green just to hunt down the "Yellow Line Painter" above. Sadly, it is slowly being covered over by other meaningless graffiti and washed away by time. Nevertheless we snapped some photos and headed to Camden where legend said there were at least 3 Banksies to behold. After a long walk along the canal, we found nothing but the spot which may have once been home to a Banksy. Fail. Sad.

Lucky for us, we were already in Camden, which is a great neighbourhood to hang out in regardless of the reason. It was Sunday, too, which means that the market was in full swing and the streets were alive with people. We walked through the stalls and shops a bit before stumbling upon something better than we could have dreamed of. Chin Chin Laboratorists. I had never heard of it, which is interesting because I consider myself an ice cream connoisseur. At any rate, a sign in the window dubbing it London's best ice cream pulled us into the queue to join the other eager patrons in waiting. The bumping music in a nearby clothing stall kept our spirits up as we waited for about 15 minutes for our turn at the mixers.

I guess I should explain. Chin Chin Labs is one of many ice cream shops that have recently popped up selling something called Nitrogen ice cream. Chin Chin claims to be Europe's first nitrogen ice cream parlour, but I'm not sure if I believe it. However, first or not, Chin Chin stands above all of the rest because these folks have actually got it down to a science. They do 3 or 4 flavours at a time, vanilla, chocolate, and whatever happens to be the "special" and "flavour of the week." Delightful. They mix the stuff up right in front of you in a row of Kitchen Aid mixers and pour in liquid nitrogen (which is, as the guy with the super protective glove said, "boiling cold") and voila, ice cream. Not just any ice cream, though. It's the creamiest, smoothest, most flavourful ice cream this tongue has ever had the fortune to sample. Perhaps I'm going a bit over the top. But seriously, it was divine.

So we chatted with the guy mixing up our individual batches of ice cream, and he told us how it worked and what they do. The Watermelon Sorbet, which was the "special," is apparently made of nothing but watermelon juice. It tasted like it too. Have I mentioned it was divine? In an effort to reduce my rambling, simply feast your eyes on this:

Singin' in the Rain!

Tuesday night Ulfie and I headed into the city to watch Singin' in the Rain. Ulfie got the tickets for only £22, so it fit into the requirement of "cheap entertainment." It was at the Palace Theatre, which is one of those cute small old theatres with really interesting and ornate decorated ceilings. So our £22 got us seats in the highest section of the theatre, but it didn't matter because we could still see all of the action.

It's been ages since I've seen the movie Singin' in the Rain, and so I honestly forgot the plot. I recognised the music almost immediately though, and suddenly flashbacks of 8th grade Music class came back. I guess that's where I saw Singin' in the Rain for the first time.

The play was nice. Quite well done, I think. And, it did actually rain on the stage. Impressive. And not just like a sprinkle, or a drizzle. It poured, like heavier than it would have if the stage was on fire. Poor guy got soaked. Fun to watch from the balconies: the actor splashing the entire front section as he danced and kicked around in the water. I don't think the rich people sitting in the first few rows knew that they were paying extra to be in the splash zone.

Overall review: 3 stars. The music was good and the plot is just classic. Parts of it seemed kind of boring and not related to the plot, and for that it loses a star. It gains a star, however, solely because they found a way to literally make it rain on the stage. My favourite part was the last dance, after the play had "ended", when the whole cast came out and danced in the rain with shiny silver umbrellas that had brightly coloured undersides, a very nice finale indeed.

September Already?

I know it sounds cliché, but I can't believe how fast time is flying by. In just a couple of days, I will have been here in London for an entire year. Seems like it all went by with the blink of an eye. I haven't had much time lately to make many new posts. Honestly, I haven't been that busy with anything very exciting and that's the reason for the lack of updates. This post will be a summary of the things that have transpired during the past few weeks.

Firstly, and perhaps most significantly, I handed in my dissertation. A few weeks ago I decided to bite the bullet, put aside frantic and rather pointless editing and re-editing, and hand in my 20,000 words. Actually, the paper was much longer and really the actual content of the paper stood somewhere around 19,000. Regardless, it was a heck of a lot of words on one topic. In retrospect, it was actually a lot easier than I thought. I managed to complete the task from start to finish in about 3.5 months, which is quite fast now that I think of it. Writing in sections definitely helped. Being able to sit down and knock  out 5,000 words at a time was a definite advantage as well. Long story short, it's all bound up nice and pretty and sitting on someones desk somewhere now. Marks are expected back around the beginning of October. An update will surely occur after the marks are back.

Now, the most recently time-consuming and boring task that has taken over my life since submitting: job hunting. In reality, I've been actively searching for a full-time teaching job since March. But since handing in the diss, I've been dedicating many hours a day to searching for vacancies, filling out applications, drafting cover letters, and beefing up my CV. Who would have thought it would take so much work and time? Certainly not I, or I would have tried harder in earlier months. So now here we are at the beginning of the first week of school, it's nearly 11 AM and I'm still sitting in bed in my PJs. This is not at all where I thought and desperately hoped I'd be. I guess that's just how things work out. For those of you who care, I've had a few serious offers and been held up by the Visa requirements. Frustrating to say the least. I'm now registered with at least 6 different agencies, and spent this past Friday sending out nearly 30 speculative letters to various schools around the city. I'm cautiously walking the fine line between feelings of panic and hopelessness, and would like any who can spare it to send their most positive energy and thoughts my direction. I think it's safe to say that I'm rapidly approaching desperation.

On a brighter, lighter note, I've been able to spend my relatively open afternoons and evenings doing some fun stuff. You know, taking advantage of what the city has to offer. Saturday we hit up the annual ice cream festival near King's Cross. What a sad disappointment, but I did get to pet a cow so I'll mark it as a success.

I am likely to soon hit up the London theatre district. There's so much playing, and tickets can be really cheap, so why not? Cheap tickets are key, however, because I am quickly running out of funds and must ration carefully, especially with no monetary replenishment in sight.

Boring post, I know. But that's all for now folks. I'll leave you with a fluffy song that's been stuck in my head for the past few days.

Carnival!

Notting Hill Carnival! The part of the year when the Caribbean takes over London. Apparently the biggest street festival in Europe. Amazement. Picture this: massive floats covered in everything from feathers to colour-changing jaguars, stilt walkers, gigantic feathery headdresses, sparkles, samba music and dancing in high heals, caribbean food, coconuts everywhere all crammed into the streets of North Kensington. Also, lots of dancing, grinding, scantily clad sparkly women who were perhaps a bit too old and jiggly to be doing either of the former activities. Only in London, I suppose. Yep. That about sums it up. I can pretty much end the post now, and let it continue from here with only photographs.

Brighton!

Brighton! Tons of bright! Right, got that out of my system. Anyway, after nearly a year of dreaming about the pebble beaches of Brighton, which rest less than an hour away from rainy London, we finally did it! A 45 minute train ride from Clapham Junction took Anne, Ulfie, and me to the sunny Brighton seaside and far away from the overcast, suffocating skies of London. What a refreshing, rejuvenating, and exhausting day.

Yesterday was a sunny and warm day in Brighton. Windy, of course, but it is a coastal city so what can we expect? Though it's a small city, it's packed full of happy, friendly and colourful people, interesting shops, and yummy food. Oh, and sea gulls. The place is chock full of gulls. But it doesn't detract from the beauty or serenity. Moving on, right. So anyway, we went to Brighton for the day. After getting off the train, we walked straight to the pier. We gawked at the masses of sea gulls (doing bizarre and amusing things), smoothed over the pebble beaches, and soaked up some long overdue sunshine. On the Brighton pier, yummy carnival food, carnival rides, and tourists. Also surprisingly yummy Asian cuisine. Oh, and what are apparently Brighton's best milkshakes. Unfortunately I didn't try one. Don't fret, it's at the top of my list of things to do on my next day trip to Brighton.

Ulfie, our fabulous tour guide, lead us from the pier to "the dome" where we stared, heads cocked, at a strange and out of place building which slightly resembles the Taj Mahal. Interesting, especially considering it's location on the southern England coast. After "the dome", we went to "the lanes." Now, if my life were a movie, this is the scene where, prior to shouting "action!" the director would certainly have said, "cue ridiculous masses of friendly people!" The lanes=the busy shopping alleys of Brighton. Narrow streets, weird shopping, crazy people, all jammed into a street barely wide enough to permit one-way traffic. But, again, don't get me wrong it's part of the culture and allure of Brighton. And I want to stress the friendliness of the locals. When we wandered into a hat shop (of course, a hat shop) and, after Anne bought a fabulous new hat (logically), we asked the shop keeper if we were, as we had thought, anywhere near the famous Banksy "Kissing Coppers" graffiti, the shop keeper smiled widely and said something along the lines of "Yes, in fact I'll show you!" She then left her shop and accompanied us to the street where she pointed and enthusiastically directed us the rest of the way. See what I mean? Brighton's got some seriously friendly people.

We went up the road to the Banksy. We took photos, obviously. I crossed something off of my bucket list, and we headed back down the hill towards the beach once again. After further wandering through "the lanes" we made it back to the pebble beach where we parked our bums and attempted to capture seagull behaviour on camera. I think I got some decent shots with the oh-so-reliable LC-A+, but didn't finish the roll so I'll have to wait to confirm this. We refilled our depleted stores of Vitamin D, watched the waves come in and out and even had the supreme opportunity to view a local hairy and rather large man in a speedo wade out into the waves. Awesome.

So by now it's been five hours since our arrival and the sun has taken it all out of us. Our return train wasn't scheduled for another four hours. We figured we wouldn't last, so we walked back to the train station, slipped past the ticket inspector and onto the earlier train. I should mention that this is the second day in a row that Ulfie and I have traveled illegally. I hope this isn't the beginning of some sort of vigilante traveling streak. Probably not. Thus ends the tail of our sunny day in Brighton. It was perfect. I even got a sunburn, which has by now faded into a lovely golden tan. Finally my shoulders and chest match the colour of my forearms.

Lessons learned: (1) don't wait nearly a year to experience something so easily accessible and so wonderful, (2) sneaking on to a "peak time" train with an "off peak" ticket is actually much easier than it sounds, and (3) vigilante travel induces unnecessary stress, but is strangely exhilarating.

Visitors!!

Lately we've had a lot of visitors, especially what with the Olympics and all. Patrick's dad came to stay with us for a week, along with some of Patrick's friends from Holland. It was nice to have so many people in the flat, it helped the flat to start to feel more like a home. Plus, now that the school year is over and everyone's been booted out of halls, Ulfie is our newest houseguest. She'll surf the couch for a couple of weeks until heading back to Bangladesh. But, we don't want to think about that yet.

Winding up the school year also means saying bye-bye to friends. Sadness. Terry headed back home about a week ago, but before she did we got together at a pub to hang out. We drank, laughed, sang with the musicians, and played the dumbest game ever invented. I think Terry said it was called "ei", like the sound you make when someone slaps you. I wonder where it got the name...

So during this time of visitors, we obviously did Olympic things and wandered around the city an awful lot. I feel there's more city wandering to be done in the coming weeks. My brain is off and I'm bored already, so I'm sure we'll find things to do in the coming weeks to entertain ourselves. Ulfie's leaving in a few weeks, so we need to see everything there is to see starting with a day trip to Brighton on Wednesday!

The Olympics!

London 2012! Bright pink posters, closed streets, congested tubes, and ridiculously happy people with foam fingers and megaphones. Oh, and a sudden influx of my fellow countrymen, the fun, outgoing, and obvious of whom were wearing American-flag capes. Free high-fives for everyone!

On July 28, we went to the men's team gymnastic at the O2 Arena, which was temporarily called the North Greenwich Arena. The whole floor was pink. Our seats were up high, but not so high to require binoculars. Jess, Ulfie, Anne, and I enjoyed watching our boys in blue flex their muscles on the six apparatuses (apparati?)

The next day, Sunday, Patrick and I went all the way to the Olympic Park to see Team USA vs. France face off in some basketball. Awesome. Entertaining. Fun. And the best part: seeing Lebron in real life. MmmmMMm. Yah, just like mum said, it's like he's wearing the batman suit. The game was a good one, even though everyone always knew who was going to win. The only down side: all of the Kobe fans in the audience. Barf. And it also seemed like there were way too many people there with really good seats who knew nothing about basketball. There should be a minimum basketball IQ required for the good seats. All the no-know people can sit up in the nose bleeds.

So a week later, on Saturday I got to go again to the Olympic park to see the men's semi-finals 10 meter platform diving! It was way more exciting than I thought it was going to be. Sometime during the wanderings around London that I did the week before with Patrick and his brother I purchased an American flag to wear as a cape. I didn't think diving was our sport, so I decided not to bring the flag. Foolish decision though, as we took 3rd place in the diving semi-finals and later that night won the gold! Shame on me for being a fair-weather USA fan. Next time I'll support them all the way.

So the post is short, and the pictures are few, but it's been an long time since the whole Olympics hype began and I am honestly out of enthusiasm for it. I'm glad it's over and I'm glad that all of the tourists are heading back to their homes. I'm looking forward to the tube returning to normal occupancy, and the bus routes to run as usual. I'm proud of team USA for winning overall, and even though I'm living across the pond, I'm still proud to be an American!