The Wizard of Oz as a Monetary Allegory

I'm currently writing my essay down in the Dining Room with my friends. My roommate is next to me now, struggling with possibly the most absurd piece of academic literature ever (courtesy of the Economic History department: this is one reading I'll avoid next week when its my turn to do EH101 readings) The Wizard of Oz as a Monetary Allegory.

Academics really have too much free time and an odd sense of humour.

In the meantime, I need a break from concentrating for an hour on Charles V. And to think I've only written 383 words.

W is an 'oo' sound in Welsh

When I first came to London a month ago, the sun set at 7:30pm. There was a night in Cwmffrwd (Coomfroond for those of you curious to know the pronunciation), Carmarthen in Wales where my parents and I went to Morrisons and bought a roast chicken, salad and pasta (salad). That was the night we came back from Dylan Thomas' Boathouse and Pembroke Castle in Pembroke, along with visiting little Welsh seaside towns and standing on dead jellyfish. We sat outside on the porch of the B&B and just ate there, enjoying the cool air and the sun setting slowly.

This week I got out of class at 5pm on Monday and the sky was inky dark outside. The sun now sets at 3:30pm (if you disregard Daylight Savings which has already started here). A 4 hour difference in just slightly over a month. How startling.

Girls who get drunk and puke are extremely classy individuals

Last night I was on a boat for a party to celebrate (well that's what it seemed anyway) the demise of the Malaysian-Singapore Society in LSE. I was like the only Singaporean out of 10 there - which is kind of why the club failed to begin with because, I kid you not, no Singaporeans joined. So there I was rubbing it in their faces by being there, oho. To my surprise I met Tessa there too.

Last night I drank a bottle of Magners Cider and a double shot of Vodka. After the Vodka (which I was reluctant to drink) I went downstairs to stuff myself with potato wedges because I was afraid my stomach was a bit empty. I think I ate like 3-4 potatoes in that one sitting because I went crazy scarfing them down, trying to avoid getting drunk. See, I had the image of a happy then violent drunk female who embodied one-two-three-floor just last Saturday in Rufus' room. Now THAT, shall never happen to me. It's disgusting and degrading to see anyone that way. So anyway I ate a shitload of potato wedges. This backfired because I ate so much it soaked up ALL the alcohol and I didn't even feel buzzed.

The Boat Party was a success in that I enjoyed myself. I got to see Tower Bridge from the river, and the Thames Riverside all lit up. I got to have a fun night out with friends, dress up and feel pretty as opposed to the usual frumpy and actually enjoy myself dancing (because I figured I didn't give a shit about most of the people on the boat, so I became less inhibited). I also got to enjoy the nice weather on the open deck of the boat and watch some totally wasted girl flopping about in her heels at 10:00pm at night. It was schadenfreude at its best as I just happened to be at that spot where her friends brought her to puke over the side of the boat and turned around minutes later to see a sizeable crowd partaking in someone elses' misery.

The Boat Party was a failure in that it was hardly a party. When Dexter and I first hit the dance floor, there were like 5 people on it. Suddenly during one song I realised the dance floor was packed with people. Then I went out to get a breather a few moments later, came back and realise the dance floor was down to 5 people again. And then it proceeded to stay that way the rest of the night. I guess Asians don't party very much.

By 11:00pm, everything was over and we walked back to Passfield. However the night still didn't feel over and I wandered off to the Satander Building along Euston Road with Sheun to explore.

Then at night I couldn't sleep because once I lay down the alcohol in my blood sloshed to my brain. I wondered if it was because I was on a boat because it felt a little like I was being tossed around by waves. I ended up staying in the twilight zone of sleep and lucidity till about 6am, then I fell asleep proper and woke up coughing like an emphysemic chain smoker at 8am. I went back to sleep at 8am and woke up at 11am.

My life is so exciting.

I has an essay

‘Charles V was more concerned with honour and crusading than with acquiring new lands.’ Discuss.

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I am daunted by my! first! ever! university! essay! and numerous other things. I am already stressed out from school and it has just begun, oh goodness me.

Also I impulse bought a weighing scale from Argos today. I've gained 2kgs since being here, shit.

More calculations

Steamed Minced Pork Egg in a Rice Cooker
Rice: 50p
Minced pork: 1 pound
2 eggs: 15p
1 salted ducks egg: 50p
Soy Sauce: neg.

Total: 2 pounds 15p
Est servings: 4 at least
Total per serving: 54p

Yay, I feel frugal. Except I spent 2-3 pounds on chocolate today (well it WILL last me a month at least), effectively undoing any real savings. It's like I try to skimp on little things but end up spending a lot on other things. I am still a failz, and boo, London is expensive.

Too many online readings hurt my eyes and my brain.

5, 6: DOWN WITH HATE POLITICS

THE BNP IS A FACIST PARTY
DOWN WITH THE BNP
THE BNP IS A NAZI PARTY
DOWN WITH THE BNP
THE BNP IS A RACIST PARTY
DOWN WITH THE BNP

At all started one fine afternoon not too long ago (Tuesday I think, for I remember having stomached free Hari Krishna lunch within the same hour) when Rufus and I were walking through LSE and the Socialist Worker booth outside the Old Building and the woman there handed him a flyer about the upcoming protest outside the BBC. My mind stopped for a moment: protest? Invite to a protest? PROTEST!!! LET'S GO!!!

So that is how on a lovely Thursday afternoon, the nicest warmest weather we've had in days, we ended up hopping onto a tube towards Zone 2 White City tube station - right outside the BBC's Wood Lane office where the filming of Question Time was going to take place. We arrived at about 5:10 pm, when the main protest was due to start. As we walked out towards the crowd we could see in the distance we came across some protests signs lain by the side of the pavement, so Rufus picked one up.


There we kind of hid behind the pavement area, taking pictures for a short while and generally watching the milling crowd that was right in front of the gates of the BBC. Some of the people in the group were pumping people up and shouting slogans, and most of them were carrying signs. I squeezed past some photographers to get a better view. After a while there was a sudden commotion behind us as the police (I think) arrested a protester in green and were dragging him behind. The crowd surged and people around us started going crazy and running in a swarm towards them shouting SHAME ON YOU. I got kind of scared as Rufus disappeared in the running mob and went to cling to the sides.


A few terse minutes later Rufus appeared again and I felt immensely relieved. We stayed in the same area for a bit watching people scale the walls (the tube tracks were 20 metres down a slope from the walls) to watch the continuing commotion. A policeman came and shouted at them to come down, and the guys on the wall shouted back OUR STREETS, OUR STREETS and the policeman wandered away to cry in a corner. We went down to the main crowd and clung about the outer side, sometimes chanting along with the shouting slogans, when we met these guys:

They very nicely passed us those posters which they made themselves. I ended up carrying and raising mine till I later found a misplaced picket pole on the ground and stuck it on. More chanting and shouting of slogans followed for a bit till we decided to join the front crowd and attempt to push through the human police barricade at the front. I kept my camera.

We joined the main crowd and when someone shouted PUSH we all forced ourselves through, pushing the policemen back a few metres till they were backed up against the gates. It was madness in there as human body shoved against human body, trying to break through the line. There was much dropped debris on the ground (like how I found my stick). Madder still was when the police shoved back mere moments after we shoved through and the crowd surged back with some people squirming away in panic. You could see the front where the police in their neon yellow vests collided with the dark black tones of the protest crowd, beating them away with their batons. It was another moment where I felt really scared because I feared a stampede. Luckily this time it was more organised and there was no running or shoving, just a mass wave of humanity.

We moved out of the main surge and stood about the outskirts. The more sedate spectator area on the pavement (for we had occupied and closed the entire Wood Lane) started growing in numbers. Finally we heard calls for the final surge and we shoved through one more time. This time the crowd was too much and the policemen were pinned against the gate. Some climbed over in time, but others were stuck and crushed against the gate. Suddenly much shouting and a scream happened just right next to me as a policeman roughly grabbed the girl standing next to me and literally threw her out of his way as he rushed to pull out his colleagues from the crush. The girl fell and started screaming bloody murder. I empathise with both her and the policeman.

We shoved through little more and found ourselves right against the gate, at the side. There we could clearly see the policemen inside watching us protesting. There were about 30+ of them. Some guys started heckling them and a new chant was heard: HOW MANY POLICE ARE IN THE BNP?/THE POLICE PROTECT THE NAZIS. Camera whipped out again, I took cruddy pictures with a quickly darkening sky and a lousy flash.


Right in front of us was a pile of discarded trash from the protest. Signs the police had either yanked from the front line of protesters or had been willfully flung at them. I even espy a loudhailer in the corner of the photo now. After a while the police started putting on their riot helmets (if there is such a thing) and in went the camera into my bag. I started feeling a bit scared again, but also oddly thrilled.


After a while the vans started up, inching closer to the gates. Then they started taking out the riot shields. The guy right next to us was talking on the phone to his friend, "Come one down here and take some pics/it's about to get pretty violent/think they're going to open the gates and come smash everyone/they've got all their gear out already". I asked him what was about to happen next and he mentioned the police was highly likely to come through and that it was best to scatter soon. Good man.

So we pushed through the crowd again and fearing the police suddenly bursting out, I climbed under a handrail where people were standing on to get a better view of the mob. Rufus and the other guy followed. We stood on the edge of the mob and watched, walking about a bit. Then we went back to that spot and two people were giggling like crazy and pointing to one of the BBC's signs that had been defaced to say FACIST PIGS. I stopped to take a picture of it and the author of this rather original statement reappeared to cross out Audience and replace it with NAZIS on the sign.


I peeped inside the darkened building for a moment and got the shock of my life as 2 eyes looked back at me, in a yellow neon vest. After that I kept repeatedly staring in, just watching the watchers. Someone elsewhere in the crowd wearing a full face mask started burning a sign and all the news media outlets ran to get footage of him. Standing next to him was incongruous Afghanistan Protester Man (see pic with people at wall with copper), getting free publicity.

Around 7:30pm we left the area to head back to the dorm. We took pictures with 2 incredibly nice policemen at the side and then departed. On the way back we met this girl with a very large pizza on the tube and had a short conversation with her - a nanny from South of France.

All in all, Rufus and I were the only 2 Chinese people in the entire protest. I guess the stereotype of Indians and Chinese not being very politically active holds through. There was however this little old Indian auntie holding a picket sign, in her nice red coat, walking about. Lovely looking lady.

Talk about a memorable day.

Extras:
BBC Video of Protesters Surge
Pictures I took on flickr

My Roommates are out, so I can blast music :D

I did the sums mentally in my head today as I was stirring the Spaghetti boiling in the sauce pan:

Dolmio Bolognese Sauce from Sainsburys: 1.89 pounds
Minced raw beef from Waitrose: 1.68 pounds (was on special, usually 1.99)
Sainsburys Basics Spaghetti: 48p
Random Tomato I had about: 25p
Random Spices borrowed from Zoe: free
Total: 4.30 pounds
Number of servings: 6
Cost per serving: 72p

Normal cost of cold sandwich outside: 2 pounds
Times I need to eat spaghetti bolognese to make it worth my time: 3

So I just need to eat the spaghetti one more time (tomorrow's lunch) to get my investment back, plus I managed to feed 3 other people.

I am a happy girl.

The last 96 hours have been very strange

Sunday morning yesterday, 3 of us went to the Quaker House located just around the block from Passfield Hall. Service started at 11am. When we went in we were greeted at the door and the friendly man gave us a "Your First Quaker Meeting" flyer, then another man with a crutch who just arrived too showed us to the main meeting room. Along the way up he was telling us a little about the meeting, to expect much silence. Still the actual experience of stepping into a meeting hall which was almost full with people sitting in silence was startling.

What followed next was more silence for about an hour, with 2 people getting up to talk. This time was spent pondering what my 2 companions were thinking about (the stain in the carpet apparently), listening to the sirens outside, thinking about random old prayers I learnt in church and general stoning (because I took drowsy medicine the previous night). It was strange. I was bored and mildly disappointed.

Later after the meeting, we gathered outside in the foyer randomly chatting to people. As I had lost my voice I wandered away from the other 2 who were chatting with some guy and went to look at the pictures of the members. As I did so, one of the other attendees came to join me and we started talking. His name was Andrew and he was doing his PhD in UCL Psych. He mentioned how he would wave to the bust of Virginia Woolf in Tavistock Gardens every morning as he walked by. I thought that was really cute. He also turned out to be the first openly gay guy I met (being the sad Singaporean I am, my first thought was 'SO COOL!'). Nice chap. He also said today was oddly quieter than usual, that usually more people would get up to talk.

As we ended up being the last few in the foyer, the ushers gave us the free leftover sandwiches. We (and one of the other attendees, a Malaysian Birkback Masters student) ended up going to Tavistock Gardens to eat the sandwiches and talk. Then because I really wanted to eat porridge badly, we went to China House at nearby Marchmont only to find it closed (and it didn't serve porridge at all anyway) :/ so Rufus decided to make porridge instead. We went to Waitrose and got all the ingredients, and went back to the dorm to make porridge.

At night I went to sleep at about 11:30-ish because I was still feeling unwell. At about 12:00 I woke up suddenly and noted that the room was entirely dark and my roommates were all asleep. I went back to sleep. I woke up again at 12:30am by an alarm. The fire alarm. I hopped out of bed and went to peep outside the door, I thought it was a false alarm. Instead there were people running down the stairs and out the door. SHIT. I ran back into the room and got my handphone/inhaler/key card/jacket while yelling to my roommates to get dressed. Then we all ran out into the cold where everyone had assembled.

I walked away from the Taviton group and went to look outside the main Passfield Hall. Everyone was there, so I walked back and told the group and everyone slowly came over. Outside, it was really cold and some people had ran out without their jackets. As I had 2 jackets on (I had slept with one on), I passed one to a guy who had none. The jacket was one of those windbreakers and the fabric was not stretchable, and as the guy was muscular he had trouble putting it on. Then dead terrorist* came over, shivering, SNATCHED MY FUCKING JACKET from my friends back and RAN THE FUCK AWAY.

WHAT THE FLYING SON OF A FUCK?

I was DAMN FUCKING PISSED OFF. As you can imagine. I was so angry the guys around me got scared (damn meek things) and went to get the jacket back. Only when they pointed out it belonged to me, a female AND that I was quite sick, did he give it back. Seriously? Apparently earlier he was going around asking all the girls from their jackets because he was cold. EVERYONE IS COLD DICKWAD. WHAT THE HELL GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO HAVE A JACKET MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE?

Then what he did next shocked everyone. Like a silence fell over the entire 200 of us standing outside in the cold, the entire incredulity of the thing just blowing everyones mind to a billion bits. He ran into the building. The building that we had just evacuated because the fire alarm went off. Ran and tried to HEADBUTT his way into the dorm past all the wardens. Suddenly everyone just burst out laughing because NO ONE could believe what they just witnessed.

I later saw him sulking around the back. URGH. I'm going to avoid him like the plague now.

Monday was packed lecture day. I woke up early and walked to school with the actuarial science people for HY114 (War and Society). After the lecture I went to the Shaw Library and did my readings. Around 2pm I got hungry and I got a craving for a corned beef sandwich, so I went near the Temple tube stop to get a sandwich with salad (1.90 pounds) from this Taxi Stand Shop which is in a little caboose-like structure on the roadside. Then I headed for class early and tried to get in, only to find it occupied by the Anime club. I found another empty classroom and ended up talking to the girl there who turned out to be in the same HY114 class as me next.

After class I rushed for the GV100 lecture, which turned out to be an utter waste of time. The professor is really something else. And when I say that something else, I mean not from this world. Now I know philosophers are supposed to be poetic and all that, but this one was Mrs Dalloway and Ulysses on a mixture of speed and weed. Nothing that came out of her mouth showed linear thinking whatsoever. I thought I was a random thinker, but everything she said was a separate unrelated point to the earlier statement. It was hell for 1 hour. I drew a mini Socrates in my file. I walked back with Anesh and complained about dead terrorist*.

At night I went out to Sainsburys at Tottenham Court Road (the Warren Street tube one) with Sheun and we ended up walking around the dorm area looking at things (and looking for Dylon ColourRun Remover -_-). When I came back to my room both my roommates were asleep, so I didn't want to wake them. However I accidentally let go of the door handle and the door started to close (and it closes with a really loud slam). I started to reach out for it instinctively... and the door slammed on my finger joint bones.

I wanted to started screaming bloody murder, but that would defeat the effect of my earlier valiant (and painful) save. So I opened my mouth and screamed silently. I don't even know how that was possible. I just did it anyway. I staggered back to my desk and looked at my fingers. They were throbbing and swollen. Nice one. Sheun messaged me on adium asking for a marker. Typing back hurt. ARGH(UV*@%&@$*.

The next day I woke up early again and went for the Student Tutor training, a volunteer programme which I signed up for. I couldn't hold a pen properly. My fingers hurt. Roar. After training I ran into Allen, some guy I met at the government reception, and I ended up dropping by the Sainsburys at Holborn to get some food and groceries before rushing back for EH101. I ended up falling asleep. One of the most interesting lectures I have and I fell asleep because I suddenly felt so exhausted. After lecture I walked back to the dorm, talked to my parents and went to sleep for 3 hours.

I woke up at about 5:30-ish and met Rufus to go look for the Dylon ColourRun Remover (silly dress I wore for Crush). We found it at Waitrose. Then we met the Malaysian Quaker guy again and went to a nearby bookstore he recommended.

Today I woke up after a nice full 8 hours of sleep and lazed about. I ended up leaving at about 11:30 to go buy minced meat from Waitrose. I came back and the 2 Sheun/Shons ended up helping me cook Spaghetti Bolognese. It actually turned out better than I expected and I was quite pleased with myself.

Later, I went downstairs after lunch to get something from my room and I ran into Michelle in the room. She was upset. It turned out she had been pickpocketed on the bus ride back to Passfield. WHAT THE. On a selfish note my mind was like thankgoditsnotme/omgsoscarywhatifithappenedtome but I felt really sad for her too. All the trouble to get to the banks to cancel cards, the embassy to report the national identity missing and then having to deal with the famous British police in order to REPORT the damn crime.

And the rest of my day is boring. Comparatively. To everything here.

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*dead terrorist is a nickname Rufus and I have given to that person. When he first met Rufus he went I HATE LAWYERS!!! IN BANGLADESH ALL THE LAWYERS ARE CORRUPT AND EVIL AND BLABLABLA. Nice introduction.

Then during the Warden's dinner he got wasted. On 2 glasses of wine. He went around pretending to speak in an American accent and randomly slamming tables/doors, pointing at people and challenging them to drink MOAR.

Fucking retard.

Minced Pork Porridge

The unthinkable has happened, I am really legitimately sick away from home. From developing an asthmatic cough on Thursday, I was sniffing and feeling unusually hot last night. I took medicine. I went to sleep. I just woke up feeling like I had been a bear in utter hibernation, blood pooled in internal organs away from limbs that were now weak and semi-paralysed; every semi-stuffed nose breath forced through with extra violence and exertion.

Last night before I went to sleep I lost my voice. I sneezed, Michelle said bless you, and I said Thanks but it came out as a croak (it seems I am very into animals at the moment).

What I'm thinking of now is minced pork porridge, as my maid used to do it. The laziest shit on earth, it was minced meat dumped into rice plus water. It was tasteless. I'd add tons and tons of soy sauce into it (like I didn't already do that to my other stuff) just to get some damn taste to my shell shocked sick taste buds. In essence it sucked. Still on this vaguely early Autumn day in London (12 degrees out according to BBC), that is all I can think about.

Last night I danced with a stranger

Last night was the first night I went to a clubbing event and actually clubbed, not random pretended to dance '70s style with Cielo, Jin and Mong in a fail place. It was Crush, the weekly clubbing event in LSE. Some of us had free entry because we went to the Student Comedy Night held by LSE earlier in the week (which was really good and exceeded expectations). The overall experience of clubbing was really weird initially, like the words "awkward" and "whale" kept floating through my head. I also finally understood why people had to drink to go clubbing too, because when you're 100% sober and your brain is firing at a normal rate, you understand how silly everyone looks and how stiff you feel.

Last night I had 3 drinks, and I can safely say I've found the right amount of alcohol I can take without getting drunk. I was very impressed with myself, oho. Which is just as well because majority of last night when not spent attempting to dance and look like a natural was spent watching over one particularly inebriated person in the group who kept spacing out into the twilight zone and hopping at random inopportune moments. I think attempting to watch him sobered me up too.

At the end of the night 4 of us left early, 2 sober people and 2 drunk people. It was fortunate that the 2 drunken ones were nice happy ones, not angry violent drunks. I shoulder supported one of the guys half the way till I got too tired and asked the other sober guy to hold on to him. While I held on to him, he kept saying "are we there yet?"/"is it 2 minutes more till we're back?"/"i have soccer tomorrow at 10!". When I asked him why he chose the number 2, he replied "because 1 sounds too unrealistic!". He also attempted to set his handphone alarm while I was holding on to him.

After relieving myself of 2-minutes drunk, I ended up upper arm supporting (I can't think of any other name for it) Apologetic Drunk (the same spacing out one from earlier), who kept saying "I'm so sorry" every minute or so. When we reached back to the dorm, the other sober guy and I had to pull 2-minutes drunk onto the bed and then brought Apologetic Drunk back to his room where he sat quietly cowed. Both guys puked twice that night. Nice stuff.

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Earlier in the night when I first got into Crush with my roommate, Michelle, and Rufus, we headed to the bar to look for the rest of the group. Rufus went to buy drinks and Michelle and I were randomly standing around when a guy who was heading to the bar made eye contact with me and reached out and held my hand. I remember being really shocked because well 1) WTF? and 2) my hands were icy cold from being outside. He raised his arm, still holding my hand in a gesture to make me twirl underneath. He then started dancing while holding my hand. This carried on for 30 seconds too long as I smiled and quickly squirmed away. I think he was a little upset by this because I saw his shoulders slump in the corner of my eye as I squeezed away. Maybe another time stranger.

I met a grasshopper in Lincoln's Inn Field today

Today was a disappointing day. I left the dorm with the intention of a) setting up a bank account, b) seeing the doctor because I felt sick. I accomplished nothing. Both times I was told to come back next week. Okay the bank I can understand, but the doctor? Hello, I'll die from asthma first. I already have breathing difficulties today. I understandably left the doctors feeling rather upset. I then resolved to make the best of my situation and headed to the Shaw Library to read my text.

I went up to the library only to see a crowd of people milling about outside. Surprise! The library was closed. Thwarted for the 3rd time today. Fed up, I left LSE altogether and walked to Lincoln's Inn Field. The only bonus was that it was rather sunny today, so I found a spot under a tree and sat there to read my hist text. Then came a grasshopper. I saw it out of the corner of my right eye, advancing slowly towards me. It was a baby grasshopper, and the brightest vividest green I had ever seen. I didn't even know there were grasshoppers in UK.

Anyway because it was a baby I took pity on it. Instead of stomping on it, I picked up a stick and poked it away while saying 'go away go away' (why, I don't know). It hopped away from me and I went back to reading. Some time passed before suddenly I noted a bright green thing on my very black jacket. So I jumped up and screamed, like any (ir)rational female of my age, and it fell off. After I calmed down from the initial shock I looked about on the ground for it, but saw no sign of it.

Sufficiently startled but still trying best to be calm, I sat down again and tried to read, all while keeping a lookout for the cretin again. Then I saw it out of my left eye. Near the puddle to my left (a leaf and water filled depression in the tarmac). I eyed it suspiciously. It looked at me. It hopped closer. I jumped up from the ground and ran over and kicked it away. It fell into the puddle. It started drowning. I freaked out. I felt bad because it was a baby. It started flailing about and I started to feel traumatised. Then it righted itself. It started kicking, started swimming. HOLY SHIT IT'S A MUTANT GRASSHOPPER! I felt kind of scared. I watched it swim about for 10 minutes as people walked by, wondering if I was on some sort of experimental drugs, not taking my gaze off the florescent green thing in the puddle.

Finally after watching for a while and living in terror that it might swim to the 'shore' and come back to jump on me for revenge, I took another stick and poked it to the other side of the puddle where the 'shore' was. As I lay back satisfied that I had been a good samaritan and saved the grasshopper from certain unceremonious drowning, I noticed it now looked dead. It was on its side, legs bent a bit funny and wasn't moving. Uh oh. I finally went over and poked it one more time, righting it and it started to twitch and move its head about. It was alive!

So I quickly left the area, before it got any more funny ideas.

Nice One

Today, all 4 hours plus of it, has been weird.

First I set off looking for the O2 nearest to my dorm, and ended up walking too far down on Eversholt, up Northish from me. The place was too quiet and had too many dodgy stores, including Transformation UK and too many closed/boarded up stores. Not a good sign. I was starting to get a bit scared, with all sorts of Doomsday (okay Daylight Robbery in a more literal form) Ideas flowing through my head. Then just as I turned to walk back, a white car slowed down next to me and the young white driver leaned out and started barking at me. WHAT THE FUCK?! I felt really scared and my mind was going 'OMG RACIST/BNP SUPPORTER!!! RUN BEFORE YOU GET LYNCHED!!!' but after a few moment he got back into his seat and drove off. This all just 50m away from a busy British Rail station.

I finally found the address of the O2 booth and it apparently was located in Euston station itself. This started a wild goose chase looking for the damn booth because train stations are busy places. I learnt that after swerving multiple times away from irate looking people, satisfied customers of British Rail, dragging luggage about. When I finally located the damn booth, it was closed. Closed as in finito, no more in existence. I was so angry and annoyed. ARGH.

Then I gave up and headed out of the station and walked down Tottenham Court Road. I went into a shop and bought 2 plates and a bowl. I was looking around for knives but they didn't carry any. What a fail crockery store. Anyway I asked the counter girl if she knew whether there was an O2 nearby and she shrugged at me, 'dunno'. Thanks you've been a great help.

As I walked out, I started to feel scared the plastic bag would break because the bowl and all suddenly felt very heavy and the plastic bag very thin. So I walked to the side and leaned against the wall, I think it was between a Pret a Manger and a Rymans, to take out my shopping bag and shove in the crockery. Something in that action, maybe the bright green shopping bag, maybe the standing-under-a-pret-a-manger-sign, maybe the stressed look on my face, attracted the attention of 2 people and they started to come towards me.

Unfortunately as we all known extra weight does not make for a quick escape so I was stuck between a Pret a Manger and a Rymans, boxed in by 2 grinning white people. My mind was a bit blank at this time from the stress and I can't confess to any amusing notions of more BNP people, which is just as well because my mind exploded when the guy started talking to me in Mandarin. 'Hui jiang pu tong hua ma?' My mind then went to, 'oh is this guy asking for directions?/wait why is he asking me for directions? he looks like a local!/WAIT WHY IS HE TALKING TO ME IN MANDARIN?!?!'

They were Jehovah's Witnesses.

They wanted me to go to their church.

They wanted to save my soul.

They were actually pretty nice people, if albeit idealistic with their notions of a world without war.

They spoke better Mandarin than I did.

They gave me flyers and leaflets.

I talked to them for 10 minutes. Then I semi-ran away.

The rest of my time out was tame compared to the first 1+ hour. I went to Uniqlo and bought a hoodie for running, went to O2 and finally bought the damn card and then spent like 30 minutes trying to decide between boots in Clarks. Then I went to Sainsburys and bought some supplies. I walked back to my dorm feeling really silly and overburned with weight and items. I reached back just in time to grab my phone and Cornish Pastry to go into the garden and wait for the phone call from my parents.

I feel tired already.

Oh dear, redux

I just woke up from a traumatic dream. I now feel vaguely exhausted. It was a dream I had dreamt before for the same equally unhappy reaction, but the scene and setting - plus the players were all different. I dreamt I was getting married, again. This time however the trauma came from the fact that in the dream it was a sudden thing. Like I had just gotten a call from Singapore and was told you're getting married now! in my current situation. For some reason the main setting was in the desert, like some sort of Las Vegas thing, except without any evidence of the actual Las Vegas and the fake Elvises. Plus the wedding decor that was up actually looked really well done and not some kitschy shite.

However throughout my mind was shouting 'NONONONONONO I'M NOT READY!' and 'NONONONONO! WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?!'. Needless to say it felt very real, and unhappy. Plus I still feel the lingering effects of the dream, like how it felt so real to me and how scared I feel at the words 'wedding', 'marriage' and 'bride' now, though I like to think I'm not one of those runaway brides in actuality.

I woke up missing one fluffy sock. An awesome white fluffy one that I bought from BHS that is very soft and is meant for keeping your feet warm. I must have been thrashing about at night as I slept. Plus as a sign of the intense trauma I have just been subjected to, I looked at the image below and instantly thought of green tea lattes from Starbucks/Coffee Bean - instead of how cute the polar bear is. It does look like a green tea latte right? I miss them too.

A list not composed to me

As relayed to me by a dorm mate I was killing time with:
1) Never date a girl in your group of friends;
2) Never date a girl older than you;
3) Never date a weird girl;
4) Never date a girl in the same class as you.

Someone told me not to cry

Somethin' filled up
my heart with nothin',
someone told me not to cry.

But now that I'm older,
my heart's colder,
and I can see that it's a lie.

Children wake up,
hold your mistake up,
before they turn the summer into dust.

If the children don't grow up,
our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms turnin' every good thing to
rust.

I guess we'll just have to adjust.

With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin' to be
when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.

With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am goin’
With my lightnin' bolts a glowin'
I can see where I am, go-go, where I am

You'd better look out below

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Now I'm not usually the kind who pastes song lyrics on their blog and expects everyone to interpret the meaning of the song to me, so I shall subvert the notion of pretending everyone knows what I mean by actually! explaining! what I mean here.

I've been listening to this song almost everyday now when I am alone. Even when I was in Singapore, or the US, or in transit among the many countries I've been to this year, I have been subconsciously replying the song in my head. To me it is a song about having to grow up and having to face the unknown - which is what I've been mentally trying to prepare myself to do.

I didn't want to grow up, but now I've been unceremoniously, tearfully and fearfully, dumped into the world of the adults. A world that is fucked up beyond comprehension that used to give me little nightmares when I was younger. Things like dealing with tons of red tape, things like dealing with tons of red tape FROM BANKS, things like having to do my own shopping and planning for food, having to find on things on my own and not be spoonfed. It makes me want to hop onto a flight home and go MUMMY HELP ME THE BANKS ARE BULLYING ME!!! but I can't because I am not dying from food poisoning like the last time and I'm stuck here studying for 3 years. Plus I'll probably be disowned.

For the past few days I've been waking up to the thought of 'Oh.' (if that even counts as a proper thought). The thought of 'oh I am here.' I still miss home alot, but through the help and support of people (and God) I've been occupied over the past few days. From bumming around with Mallek, talking to CNE on skype, meeting familiar faces just at the right time, my time is used up too much to feel really sad about being away from home (and I really shouldn't anyway). Even the note of encouragement Petrina sent me really helped a lot too. So thank you guys, all the randoms I talk to online who cheer me up included.

Homesickness does get better over time, but it never goes away. When I think about home I still feel sad, I miss people and my family, I miss the comfort and security. But like all things, such mollycoddling cannot last forever (nor is it very healthy that it does). I guess we'll just have to adjust.

Homesickness

Homesickness comes in 2 waves for me.

One comes in the morning when I first wake up. It comes when I open my eyes and realise I am not at home. It reminds me I am 50,000 miles from home. It reminds me I am anywhere but home and it reminds me of all the things I am currently missing right now. Things like convenience, privacy, security (both psychological and physical), family and friends which are not here for me, and that 2 months is a terribly long time to have to wait for anything and I'm so terribly impatient.

The second wave usually comes in the late afternoon, just when I return to my dorm after the day because I am tired. The feeling of tiredness does not help my mood. I have been holding back little tears all day long. They come when I am doing something that reminds me or makes me wish I was home. Things like looking at the price of tissue boxes. Things like realising I can't have ham for breakfast because it will get stolen in the fridge I put it in. I have been thinking "I wish I was home" all day long. In this time, when I am back with nothing to occupy my mind, it hits me hard.

I have just passed through the first wave today, now I am left to wonder and hope if the second wave will hit at all.