Monday, 21 June 2010

Golden Saucers: whisking silence

Golden Saucers: whisking silence

On the fuzzy periphery of a weekday afternoon, a phone rings but once a day. It’s mom calling from the driveway who “could use some help” with the groceries. Occasionally a text will jolt the stillness with a zap back to where good friends are studying, interning, teaching, traveling, wedding, birthing, drinking, laughing, fighting, earning, living for . . .

the crystal-tinkling clarity of some unadulterated sound.

Save for the seldom awakening of the grad-gift phone, my sounds these days are frequently cupped silence, filled with the memory of amniotic fluidity. When the sun rays reach into my childhood window and are particularly beckoning with their gentle invitation to join the world, I drive to a cabin once filled with second cousins and aunts and toddlers spilling out every straining window screen to the patio undergrowth of frog racing, fireflying, citronella wafting, and boat motors whining for just 10 more minutes, please, in the water.

The water is calm. My phone has no bars, and I, this time, am silently alone. Floating. Rocking. Irrevocably lulled.

My brain, too, is silent, the disquiet of the neuron map for now stowed away, washed ashore to make way for the expansive emptiness of the 3:00 sky.

Allow a cloud-flood through the retinas, through to the brain. In the sun-washed silence, absence, four tablespoons of softened butter must be what a baby feels when it first surmises the sky.

Let the brain stem keep inching back till the chin passes above the horizon line of trees, toes disappear, no cheating, feel the heavy cranium stretch back, ahh, all the way.

Clouds, the silent movie that speaks with a breath of originality, of change, whisk and scramble with each blink.

In a lull of blinking silence, I rediscovered clouds.

Friday, 11 June 2010

Top 10 OxyContin Pills

This week, I traded my wisdom teeth for OxyContin pills of wisdom.

OxyContin #1: Now maybe oral surgery is on the lower end of “grave” as far as surgeries go, but it seems there really should be some sort of code against anesthetizing people in a tiny fourth-floor business suite.

OxyContin #2: The last thing cringers to all things vein-related want to hear is their surgeon comparing the quest for the perfect IV vein to a fishing expedition. “Hmm. We might have to move upstream to find a good one, but let’s see if we can’t find us a big one here first.”

OxyContin #3: More wise words from the Dr. Wisdom Fisher: “If after the surgery you find when you try to drink water it comes straight through your nose, well, then we’ll know we’ve got something to fix.”

Thanks for testing bodily hydraulics before the patient leaves the building.

OxyContin #4: With oral surgery there is also the risk of damaging a delicate nerve, barely a blip on the X-ray, that runs below the gums through the lower lip. Numbness usually goes away after three hours, but to a patient on emotion-inducing pain meds, those three hours with a numb hippo lip is life-devastating, filled with premonitions of wearing bibs in restaurants and slurping gruel like the Beast.

Be thankful for that little nerve.

OxyContin #5: Nerve damage or no, wisdom tooth extraction requires the surgeon to crank the jaw open so much so that even opening it to fit a spoon in and out requires effort equal to removing the Sword from the Stone. Unfortunately the only way around this utensil challenge is licking applesauce straight from the jar. You can imagine the mess with the added handicap of a numb lip.

OxyContin #6: You know you have some high commodity pain prescriptions after the pharmacist tries to give you “Marissa Hoover’s” measly antibiotics and your demand for your identity and its rightful narcotics creates a Spanish Inquisition into who the true Jessica Hoover is and why she needs five narcotics prescriptions from the neighborhood Walgreen’s. Foul play afoot, Marissa Hoover. I’m on to you.

OxyContin #7: And you can’t trust anybody. Your mother, for your safety and addiction prevention, will purposely “hide” the pill bottles while she is gone for the day, leaving you high and, well, not high, but dry, and in pain.

OxyContin #8: When a mid-day storm blows through causing a tree to fall in one’s backyard, thereby uprooting two smaller trees, which smash the dog fence and a good portion of the roof, all just one branch shy of an OxyContin-induced slumberer, good luck (one) waking up and (two) convincing your family you really aren’t hallucinating . . . this time.

OxyContin #9: Don’t social network while under the influence. While you may not have the strength to sit at a desk and use a computer, here’s when the “convenience” of the mobile web on your phone betrays you.

OxyContin #10: Bed-ridden and comatose on pain meds is hardly an excuse for lack of cardiac exercise. The old ticker gets plenty of cardio pumping from heart-racing recurring nightmares of being trapped in a mahogany mansion hiding for your life from Cyclops sea creatures in basement wardrobes while, with the strike of each hour, a new army of villains, in progressive historical time periods, flood the spiraling staircases raging war curses while they hunt you. It’s like playing “Jumanji” amid clash of “Narnia” (all 7) and “Night at the Museum” (1 & 2) in every battle for Middle Earth.

Missed item this week: A right mind?

Peace out Brussels sprouts.

Thursday, 3 June 2010

Top 10 Bird Droppings

Bird Dropping #1: You know the fates and birds are aligned together to malign suburban walking attempts when one is pooped upon whilst strolling to the ballpark.

Bird Dropping #2: Always, always, always greet people you know, regardless of the likelihood of them remembering you from six years ago. The minute you don't, you will see them haunting the grocery store crosswalk the next day, and you are faced with the exact same previous day’s awkward (lack of) interaction precedent.

Bird Dropping #3: Upon returning home, get used to "Hey [insert name of younger high school sibling here]." Or, "So you're the younger one, right?" Or, "Have you thought about colleges yet?"

Bird Dropping #4: How long does it take a college student to shake off the 3 a.m. bed time? At least a month and still counting.

Bird Dropping #5: From the other end of the clock, how long is it permissible for a college graduate to repeatedly sleep in until noon? Two weeks ago, wasting an entire half of a day was detestable, so I enacted a calibration plan, shaving off 30 minutes of sleep each week. We’re to 10:30 a.m. at Week 4.

Bird Dropping #6: Buildings change. Businesses go in and out of existence. Yes. But when is it ever OK for a private warehouse aquarium to morph into a pool and spa?

Bird Dropping #7: If anyone is ever in doubt of Knoxville’s literacy rate, go to McKay’s Used Books any hour of any day and ponder literacy whilst circling the parking lot for eons waiting for a spot. Then go inside to meet Knoxville’s finest local literates.

Bird Dropping #8: Thanks to thunderstorms that pop up out of literally nowhere, one’s afternoon walks quite frequently turn into afternoon sprints with the added inconvenience of emitting convincing “oh my house is just around the corner” pants to strangers who offer rides home.

Bird Dropping #9: When one is lucky enough to get through an entire walk thunder-free, lo and behold pick up the pace when the ice cream truck and its freaky clown music creeps along behind you or heads you off at the crossroads. So this is what it feels like being on the run from the child snatcher in “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”

Bird Dropping #10: After finally having re-arranged one's room in every geometric configuration possible, the realization sets in that a) social life has significantly declined, and b) furthering individual exploration and independence has also declined. Both of which exist because of c) lack of travel and general adventure. Therefore, d) The Stagnated Self Crisis Cycle (Theorem S^2 = C^2):
--Frustration: A quick facebook perusal reveals there are more people than fingers on your hand who are doing way more interesting things with their summers than you are.
--Aggression: Rant to the dog in self pity and bitterness about a boring existence.
--Frenetic Angst: Feverishly map out possible excursions for every continent, including Antarctica.
--Repression: Cool down with sorting four years’ worth of computer files.

We haven’t quite achieved the “Acceptance” phase yet.


‘Most Missed’ this week: Rome Wal-Mart entertainment

Peace out Brussels sprouts.

Friday, 28 May 2010

Crumpets Continued: Top 10 Garage Battles

Crumpets Continued: Top 10 Garage Battles

Whilst so many are off on adventures drinking life to the lees, I am at home re-learning that we eat as a family and dinner is dependent on the daily family schedule.

Garage Battle #1: Despite the hierarchy of birth order, upon absence from the garage for four years, said benefit is withdrawn and proffered to the younger sibling, kicking the eldest to the curb. ‘Tis only the natural order.

Garage Battle #2: In addition to the cardinal rule that family that lives together eats together, removing one’s self from the table is only acceptable after one has been properly “excused.”

Garage Battle #3:
Jessica: “May I be excused please?”
Mom: “Yes you may.”
Dad: “So, Jessica, tell us about your day.”

Garage Battle #4: The one, perhaps only, comforting fact to return home and find one’s childhood dog senile, deaf, and nearly blind from old age is that one no longer must administer Valium during thunderstorms.

Garage Battle #5: In avoidance of having to give the four-year-update to all and sundry house phone caller, one begins to take the model of simply not answering the phone. However, this involves a creepy tip-toeing down the stairs (I’m sure latent from some childhood phobia that people on the answering machine can “hear” you creaking around) and awkward neck crane to hear the answering machine to make sure it is not an emergency call.

Garage Battle #6: Making my dad’s lunch bag for work on his nightshift is like leaving out cookies, milk, and carrots for Santa. I fill the lunchbox, the lunchbox re-appears in the morning, most contents are eaten, some are not. Eerily just like Santa.

Garage Battle #7: Apparently, to some high school Soffee-short-wearing types, “going to the gym” means sitting on a leg extension machine reading a magazine for 10 minutes, most decidedly not doing leg extensions. The one hands-free machine is nothing more than a hot commodity resting chair that just happens to have a weight pulley system attached.

Garage Battle #8: Nothing like getting ready to pull out of a parking lot across town 30 minutes from home and suddenly someone is banging on your trunk and filling your driver side window with the endearing face of . . . your little sister. Knoxville is, surprisingly, a small world, where missing your sister and her friends having lunch at the exact same restaurant you did is a narrow escape.

Garage Battle #9: Stamped mail sitting by the countertop on the way out the door is ready to be mailed. Notice it, whether it is yours or not.

Garage Battle #10: Walking to the post office is, on the whole, an uneventful jaunt quite conducive to contemplation, neighborhood garden perusal, and substantial 40-minute exercise there and back. Except for Jacksboro Pike. . .the only “major” road separating my neighborhood from the rest of Fountain City civilization that has a sidewalk. What is so strange about someone walking on the side of the road, I cannot comprehend. But I am tired of the jeerings, revving engines, and speeding cars ruining my sidewalk postal contemplation. Especially ones that notice I’m wearing a red T-shirt and spontaneous blare “Lady in Red.” Yet I remain un-deterred. I am determined to make Jacksboro Pike sidewalk as busy with pedestrians as the Tube juncture of Oxford Circus, London. Such is my quest and community contribution to Knoxville to which I remain dedicated in active community and family membership for the next two years at least.

Missed Item this week: My 2 a.m. fourth meal.

DISCLAIMER: I love my family. We are very close, and I greatly appreciate their accommodation free of charge, my three square meals a day, the stocked pantry and all other amenities thereunto.

Wednesday, 12 May 2010

The Crumpet Collection: Failed Quizzes, Four Years in Review

Top 10 Failed Quizzes: Four Years in Review

Only in college is it acceptable to make use of studious time to fail a quiz or two for the sake of extra-textual “learning.” For in learning to “fail,” well, there is a memorable lesson in itself.

Failed Quiz #1: When one agrees to being uprooted in the middle of the night for a drive to Wild Bill’s under the pretense of it being a “country bar” only to be thrown into one’s first encounter with hip hop and the rapper scene, that 8 a.m. exam arrives all too soon.

Failed Quiz #2: Attempting to uphold the ethics of underage-non-drinking is not always rewarded when one attempts to shoot Sprite from miniature bathroom cups only to nearly drown on carbonation overload.

Failed Quiz #3: Police speed-watcher officers often lie in wait on the onramps lining I-75 in south Georgia during Spring Break season to nab speeding spring speed breakers. As a driver it helps to be watching for them rather than craned away from the wheel for a photo op from a camera in the backseat. However, if timed appropriately, such a photo can also be evidence of actual speed if the speedometer gets clipped in the photo.

Failed Quiz #4: When sabotaging a car in the middle of the night for a birthday, bring a towel to wipe off the dew to lengthen the lifespan of stewed-upon-for-weeks witticisms such as “Will you light my (birthday) candle?”

Failed Quiz #5: After deliberating among six people, three computers, two Skype connections, and a few speaker phone calls over which country is cheapest and safest to get to for a week, one should, at 3 a.m., always be sure to purchase airline tickets only once. Two confirmation e-mails (and a failed reading quiz) later is a heart-stopping way to greet the light of day.

Failed Quiz #6: Enter a sketch basement bar with a $20 cover for “all you can drink” is a bad, bad mindset for the brain. “Getting one’s money’s worth” keeps paying for itself 16 hours later after horribly bumpy airplane landings and a seven hour drive home.

Failed Quiz #7: Grace Kelley night sounds superb in theory as a way to celebrate momentous achievements, but after everyone has Googled to see exactly what “Grace Kelley” attire means, acquires it, and then goes out for cheap drinks (in Rome), “overdressed” is the word of the evening.

Failed Quiz #8: What the pretty frat boys with pastel pants and bowties don’t tell you about Steeplechase on rainy, tornado-watch days is to drive a vehicle with hardcore 4-wheel drive. Toyota Corollas aren’t exactly “mudding” material, though, for that matter, neither are pearls and white dresses and pastel pants.

Failed Quiz #9: The best stroke of brilliance for a headline often comes at 3 or 4 a.m. post-Carrier dance party in a mostly-desolate office to the tune of “Zombie,” “My spoon’s too big,” “Big Pimpin,’” “Banana Phone” or other various YouTube background streamings. Many a quiz has been failed in pursuit of getting the campus newspaper on the racks at a reasonable hour Thursday morning.

Failed Quiz #10: Friends have to look out for each other when gentleman callers request an audience with a roommate outside at 2 a.m., which is how the covert non-smoker smokescreen was developed as a way for concerned friends to chaperone such meetings under the ruse of “smoking” study utensils. From afar, those white BIC pens could pass for cigs, surely.

Most missed failing that, unfortunately I deem only appropriate for college, is rapping like a gangsta with some shades and da bling to “Pop Lock and Drop It.” Those are the best kind of “study breaks”-turned-failed-quiz.

While reading quizzes are important, may the college student in us all slip on those rapper shades every so often in the big bad adult world.



As a bonus track, below I have listed the top soundtracks to accompany the various “failings” and orchestrations over the past few years for JHo and friends:

“Boots with the Fur” (also known as Low) Flo-Rida
“It’s Tricky” – Run-D.M.C.
“Don’t Stop Believin’” --Journey
“You’re So Vain” –Carly Simon
“Total Eclipse of the Heart” –Bonnie Tyler
“Touch You Once” (also known as “If You Leave” –Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark
“I’ll Make a Man out of You” –Mulan

Stay tuned for the Crumpet Collection’s continuation into life back at the homestead. This will be an interesting year.

Peace out Brussels sprouts, yo.

Friday, 1 January 2010

Golden Saucers: Reverberating Actions

The Bitter Barn. A phrase that my dear family has tossed around on more than several occasions this month-long break at home. And rightly so. Of course no one wants to keep hearing about how things are so different in England, how I miss hostel accommodation prices, safer travel, healthier food, and the constant surroundings of classic literary genius.

It's a lot easier to succumb to the illusion that the experience of living completely on one's own and successfully planning and executing backpacking excursions all over Europe was simply a dream. A dream because, when people start looking over your shoulder, making you aware of your own inadequacies in decision-making, you lose confidence and start questioning yourself. The mantra for this last semester to myself and others has been: "I survived six months in Europe utterly and completely on my own. I can handle _______. "

And everyone is tired of hearing that. Honestly, no one really cares about this kind of life-changing event. So, I ask myself, what did I really learn in Europe that goes beyond the everyday things I miss? Here's a few golden saucers, universal truths, I've compiled.

--Love and be fiercely loyal to your friends. They are the links to your inner-child and allow you to find the true ore of any experience, especially in travel. Spontaneously remind them of how thankful you are that they are there for you.

--In the event of awkward handshake/moving in for hugs/flailing hand gestures, just give a HUG! Hug your family often. Hugs are the essence of compassion, love, encouragement, safety, and reassurance.

--Explore. Make the most of breaks, time off, and weekends.

--Relationships are rarely a matter of one's appearance but are much more dependent upon encouragement and communication from both parties. Girls: do not expect for anything to happen simply by being noticed. More than likely, a guy won't talk to you because it takes a lot of guts to make the first move. Help him out. Communicate. Dare to get turned down. Guys: Don't want to go so far as to enter the "date" territory on first meeting? Ask a girl out to coffee. Tea. It's not really a date, but if it goes really well, you can make it one.

--Be a listener and offer selfless conversation; listen to every person like they are giving a one-time-only boarding call for your flight number. Always try to ask more questions about the person you're talking to than they can ask about you.

--Walk as often as possible. Walking allows for vital personal time to think, absorb, and evaluate.

--When walking into a room of complete strangers in which you don't know a soul,walk around and introduce yourself (the food table or bar is a good place for this). As excruciatingly painful as it is, honestly people probably won't think much about the fact that you're there alone.

--Regardless of your tastes or morals, alcohol is a necessary part of social behavior and business. Find a few drinks you like. You can always drink and never get drunk. Sipping is the key. If there's an option for cider or Strongbow, take it. It's like apple juice.

--If a guy starts buying you drinks, repeatedly, thank him politely for the drinks, try to sip them as long as possible, keep your head, and NEVER feel rude about leaving with no explanation if he is beginning to be more adamant that there be "payment" for his benevolence.

--Always deposit part of your pay check into a savings account.

--At some point in her life, every girl should try to go a month with little or no make-up or extra hair appliances. Mascara, chap stick, hairdryer, shampoo, soap. Confront yourself honestly.

--Make it a daily goal to acknowledge someone who has a seemingly menial task, even if he or she is rude to you. Imagine spending eight hours a day picking gum off London sidewalks in the rain. Show that person that they are a person--a beautiful person.

Such are the golden saucers of my Europe experience. As I try to step out of the bitter barn, I realize these universals are trans-atlantic. They are realizations that, thanks to my solitary European travels, I have incorporated into daily American life. It's important to step back and fairly evaluate life-changing experiences. As I use the next few months to truly evaluate , I see how my evaluations take on a more global picture, a macro-crumpet view, and I can use my actions to reverberate off others so as to impart these "golden saucer" truths that bitter barn words fail to communicate.

Thursday, 31 December 2009

The Crumpet Collection: January and February

Lady J-Ho’s Tea Time ‘09 Top 10 Crumpets for Week 1Crumpets: Some are tasty, some are burnt, some are what this American never learnt.

Crumpet #1: The politically correct name for the collapse/fall of the Roman Empire is “transformation of the Roman world.”

Crumpet #2: “It’s so difficult to decide what is worth spending your money on…souvenirs, bus passes, walking shoes…”
“Only two things you need to spend money on: Food. Beer……And maybe cab fare.”

Crumpet #3: Oedipus Rex is exactly the type of uplifting play everyone goes to the university square to see in the dreary, rainy, cold of a typical Sunday afternoon.

Crumpet #4: When the coiled bowels of a hairdryer start to appear as orange as the fires of Mount Doom, the final battle for Middle Earth does in fact predictably follow.

Crumpet #5: “The library is to humanities students as the laboratory is to science students.”

Crumpet #6: When crossing the street, it is helpful to look to the direction from which traffic is actually coming.

Crumpet #7: The great American Norton Anthology is, even trans-atlantically, still the authority on the oldest surviving literature of Britain…unfortunately. And the pages are still as thin as tissue paper.

Crumpet #8: Sandwich quality is measured by its award of an A through I rating…most likely inspected and administered by the truly legitimate British Sandwich Association.

Crumpet #9: Drinking (and carrying around) a 2-litre bottle of water is not a rare occurrence when one must keep pace with British walkers who feel the need to stroll at the pace equal to that of an Olympic walker’s marathon event for miles at a time.

Crumpet #10: Gangsta shades...in fact any U-V ray protective eye-wear of any kind, is simply not worn. This, fellow gangstas from the west-side (of the globe—that is the geographic globe, not Master Shakespeare’s world,) is a major problem.

And the number one missed item of the week (aside from family and friends because those are givens…) is:

Yes, as I’m sure you guessed: CHICKEN ENCHILADAS.


Let’s face it, we all know how study abroad students write epistles on their facebook notes and genuinely believe that dear friends will read every word. If you want an epistle, I’m sure we all know I would give you one even if you didn’t ask. So, to spare you all the insignificant details, my weekly crumpet collections I hope can offer you a glimpse into some of the idiosyncratic highlights of my daunting 5-month pursuit of scholastic and cultural achievements in oh so Great Britain. After a week of culture shock and being utterly alone for survival (yes, even the Ritz cracker supply is down to zero), I suppose these details could be good research for psychiatry. But I hope you gain some insight into the mindset of British culture, which many mistake to be so similar to our own simply because of the language similarity. (aha, there, you see…this conclusion itself was almost an epistle...But alas, brevity is the soul wit.)

If you wish to be untagged/tagged in my weekly posts, please inform me posthaste, and I will endeavour to acquiesce to your wishes. If you feel slighted in not being tagged, please know that it was consciously decided upon who could suffer my warblings, so, be put at ease.

Peace out brussel sprout, (yes, I am amending the standard signature in case I ever make it to Brussels, where, I hope to shout this from atop the HQ of the European Union. Plus, this sounds a bit more appropriate for the gangsta British appropriation of peace out, yo.)

JHO.

Bollocks...it's still a bloody epistle.

Lady JHo's Top 10 Crumpets: Week 2
Wed. Jan. 21, 2009

Crumpets: Some are tasty, some are burnt, some are what this American never learnt.

Crumpet #1. It appears that the United Kingdom singlehandedly keeps the Australian UGG boot industry afloat.

2. If a group of, say, 4 is walking down the sidewalk in one direction, and you are walking alone toward them, as it is 1 against 4, you will be the one to get budged to the 3-cm bike lane and run the risk of being sacrificed to the speeding BMWs and Smart Cars whizzing by within millimeters of your person. However, walking down country lanes is another matter completely…each party must assemble in single-file.

3. Curry is not jelly, custard, or pudding as for some reason I had it construed in my twisted way of thinking; rather, it is something like spicy stir fry/stew/soup served over rice.

4. Saying something like, “My pants are wet,” is a bit inappropriate for public conversation given that jeans or longish “pants” are actually called “trousers,” and pants are undergarments. A bit problematic.

5. After a few rounds of anxious waiting, panicked confusion, attempting-to-be-casual perusal of departure timetables, and hurried platform jumping, one begins to realize that the final destination that appears on the trains’ marquee is not necessarily the only destination.

6. After standing outside the shower for 20 minutes with the water still running cold, it might help to make sure one flipped the water heater switch. Although, for a reasonable shower length, this must be done at least 40-min to an hour before shower time.

7. “So does everyone actually read everything listed on the bibliography?”
“Yes, do you not have bibliographies in America?”
“Well, yes, but usually the reading assignments for class are pretty explicit about what sections or selections we should read for each class.”
“Ohh, well that’s a lot like school [high school] for us. We did get spoon-fed a lot there. You see, it’s much more independent here, you’re responsible for your own reading.”
Professor: “So, did we do the reading? How many people did the reading?”
4 out of 20 hands.
Right.

8. Apparently, anything is acceptable as long as girls wear leggings or tights. Men’s dress shirt and leggings to class? Righto.

9. Riding the bus not only drains one’s coin (as exact change is needed every time), but bus rides also use up the Dramamine tablets, which tend to be popped like vitamins lately.

10. England must have special marshmallows because they have the uncanny ability to resist melting when sitting atop hot chocolate for up to 30 minutes, which is much longer than 5-second American marshmallows.

Amendment to last week’s: Turns out the sandwich rating scale is counter-intuitive… “A” sandwiches are the worst, while “I” sandwiches are the best quality.

Number One missed item this week (besides friends and family because those are givens):

Free printing.

Highlights this week: Downtown Birmingham—Bullring mall, Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwick Castle, mastering public transportation, purchasing a rail pass, acquiring map reading skills superior to Lewis and Clark, and replenishing the Ritz cracker supply.

I cannot believe it is already time to be doing this for Week 2! I have packed a lot of day trip travel into the 4-day weekend (I have no classes Mon or Fr!), and I am slowly getting conditioned into daily British oddities. Above all, I am daily humbled by ineptitude, and I have quickly surpassed the fear of asking questions and looking incompetent. It is by losing all self-confidence that each tiny victory in rebuilding it seems like such a huge success. And then you realize you never really lost it, you just let too many exasperated sighs or amused stares get to you. Humility is certainly a good thing to learn, and the ability to look like a complete idiot at least 25% of the day and go along with it is a big step. And I’m learning that as much as it feels important to dress, talk, eat, or even think a certain way to fit in with the dominant culture, going with your own style—while it certainly draws attention—is usually the best way to go. Granted, that’s not an Earth-shattering revelation, but it’s a truth that we all need to be reminded of here and there.

So…I’m pullin out the gangsta shades. If the sun ever comes out again to wear them.

Peace out brussel sprout.

Lady JHo’s Top Ten Crumpets: Week 3
Wed. Jan. 28, 2009

You know the drill.
Crumpets: some are tasty, some are burnt, some are what this American never learnt.

Crumpet #1: Immature first-year drunken hooligans who beat down my flat door yelling “Frank the Tank” at least two nights (school nights) a week are perfect evidence of excessive pub drinking that would qualify as alcoholism anywhere else. Try defending your apartment alone at midnight in Shakespeare “Will Power” pjs as you futilely attempt to explain to such rioters that you are not “Frank,” you just moved in, he no longer lives here, and you are the last person alive who would know where to find him.

Crumpet #2: Walking down the street and getting soaked with road splatter by passing buses does in fact happen in real life.

Crumpet #3: It is common courtesy to note if a train seat is reserved on cross-country passages by consulting the blinking reservation cues above the seat. So don’t get too excited when you find a seat and get all nestled in only to have a dignified businessman awkwardly coughing, hovering, and wondering how blind you are that you missed the blinkers as he waits for you to realize you are in his seat.

Crumpet #4: When one finds herself humming Reverend Mother’s “Climb Every Mountain” more than three times a day, whether it be literally climbing a mountain, walking up steps, or just walking up steep sidewalks, there is probably too much climbing going on.

Crumpet #5: Oh, one last question. Will I have access to a shower?
Eh, weeeellll….ye see…aye. I mean, it’s not one ye can stand up in, but ther sorta a hose ye can lean o’er and wash yer hair.
…silence…
It’s one of those ye can wash the dog in, ye know.

Crumpet #6: “I mean, it’s a castle. It’s huge. There’s no way we can lose it.” Fallacy. Anyone who has tried to look for one knows the ironic truth (yes, I realize the problem with that syntactical construction) that the closer one gets to it, the more elusive it becomes.

Crumpet #7: ‘Ale’ is not necessarily ginger ale.

Crumpet #8: Picking up and wrestling a huge 10-kilo care package that barely fits through the mail window and walking by the 20-person queue with everyone wondering what kind of meth lab you’re running is not embarrassing at all. (At least they don’t know you stood by the post window for 30 minutes before it opened because you knew supplies would be arriving.)

Crumpet #9: When winding through the snow-covered mountains in a Scotland-bound train, you cannot help but start smiling to yourself while listening to the Hogwarts theme on your iPod. The stranger sitting across from you will think you are a bit odd, but such is their atmospheric loss.

Crumpet #10: When watching television, you generally have 10 choices: BBC 1, BBC 2, BBC 3, BBC 4…and so on. Radio? BBC 1…BBC 2…and so on. Talk about a media monopoly. No wonder they set the standard for handling humanitarian aid ads. I hope their edict doesn’t extend to Arbor Day ads.


Number One missed item this week:
Jane Austen DVD collection…but so thankful for A1 sauce. Mushroom stuffed omelet? A1 and I can take you down next time.

Highlights this week: Edinburgh (Castle, Holyrood Palace, Royal Yacht, mountains, Royal Botanical Gardens, Scottish Parliament, city centre) and Loch Ness, Inverness, monster hunting.

And so, despite some avalanche dodging, I am alive yet another week, which will mark the longest I have ever been out of the USA. I am finally settling into a weekly routine and continue to meet new, fascinating people everyday. I was so fortunate to experience Scotland this past weekend, and it has certainly been the highlight of my time here so far. While Edinburgh is certainly a crowded city, its historical depth and close proximity to breathtaking rural landscapes was a perfect break from commercial, modern, crowded, brake-squeaky Birmingham, which I am learning to call home. With my sightseeing complete in Scotland, I can’t wait to go back in April to work on my research. No comments from the peanut gallery…research is great fun when you can read and write in that kind of atmosphere :) Classes are also settling into a routine, and I think I’ve got a grip on exactly what is expected from week to week. It certainly is quite the wakeup call when you realize that you are the only one in a seminar coming in with an American mindset, and my perspective on something like racism is going to be strikingly different from a British perspective. It is indeed a beautiful moment for the mind when it suddenly perceives the new pattern in the optical illusion that had been there all along. I wish everyone a week of pulling out those optical illusion books and discovering patterns you never saw before. It’s good exercise for the mind, so hopefully if you spend time in another country, you won’t be as sarcastic and begrudging as these crumpet collections have (unintentionally) turned out to be!

Peace out Brussels sprouts.

Top 10 Crumpets (Count it. 10. NOT 25.): Week 4
Wed. Feb. 4, 2009

I would hate for anyone to get excited to read another “25 things” only to realize that you will not be gaining any secret insights into my soul. So, you have been warned. As a cultural exercise, which is what these crumpets are intended to be, I could require that everyone I tag must write a note of “10 Nuggets” thinking of 10 American phrases, traditions, everyday nothings, etc. and analyze why we do them the way we do or say things the way we say them. Good luck puzzling out some of those answers…if you are a glutton for puzzlement.

But on with the crumpets…

Crumpet #1: One must pay 7.50 pounds (approx $10.76) to request an inter-library loan at the University of Birmingham. A serious setback to the average student’s research needs.

Crumpet #2: In Britain, when someone casually asks you, “Are you all right?” (the standard greeting) in an intonation used by Americans to suggest that you are a bit mental, they are merely asking ‘how are you?’ or ‘what’s up?’ If they think you are a bit crazy, then they will ask, “Are you mental?” Except in some cases, this sounds like, me’ull, men’al, ment-il, mentol?”

Crumpet #3: When the biggest snow an island has seen in 18 years hits, anything is fare game for sled material. Cake pans, plastic grocery bags used as diapers, pizza boxes, and cafeteria trays are enlisted as “sledges.” If you can’t find any of these items, simply take your door off and haul it out to the hill. I kid you not.

Crumpet #4: If one would happen to get the notion to try something illegal, the UK is not the place to do it. Surveillance cameras haunt you around every nook, cranny, and vending machine. And the cameras on the buses are quite helpful for guaranteeing time to fix one’s hair in the mornings, allowing you at least 5 more minutes of sleep at home.

Crumpet #5: This marketing stratagem appears on the back of every UK Ritz Cracker box above the suggestion to add Philadelphia cream cheese to the Ritz snack… “Ritz…they are extremely moreish on their own but have you tried these tasty ideas?” Moreish? Who uses that? Better question: Who uses that in a marketing strategy?

Crumpet #6: When one finds herself absentmindedly grooving to “MmmBop,” “I Like to Move it, Move it,” and bagpipe techno every single night at 9:05 p.m. courtesy of the (male) neighbors, drastic measures must be taken. Cranking my regular 9 a.m. pep song, “Let’s Get Down to Business to Defeat the Huns” a little louder every morning should do the trick.

Crumpet #7: When one travels to a foreign country tempting ultimate failure and emotional breakdown in part for the challenge of testing one’s self to see if such a feat, can in fact, be completed successfully, it is best to ensure that one’s dad never discovers Skype Chat. I love, love, love my daddy, but when daily (hourly) communication becomes more frequent 4,000 miles from home than that which occurs living at home over school breaks, the line must be drawn somewhere.

Crumpet #8: Flapjacks are not pancakes; rather, they are bar-type-things made of shortbread, granola, and marshmallows.

Crumpet #9: It is a truth universally acknowledged (or at least should be), that doing laundry in mixed company is an awkward breach of propriety. Especially when one cannot figure out how to dispense laundry detergent from a sealed plastic capsule and must politely accept an offer from said company to assist in the matter. Needless to say, watching (personal) clothing items in the little washer window while waiting for the suds to appear (indicating the disintegration of the capsule) was marked by unnecessary awkwardness, which would have been avoided had said company behaved in a more gentlemanly-like manner and simply refrained from being of “help.”

Crumpet #10: NEVER travel on trains in England on Sundays. Sure, one would think a lovely jaunt to the country is such a quaint, beautiful idea. No. Do not be fooled. Packed like sardines in a train and standing for an hour and a half on a Sunday evening with a million other university students going the same place you are is not idyllic. But, always searching for the positive…you get a good work out by passing the time strengthening your core trying to keep your balance on the moving apparatus without holding on to other people for support.


And that is my week in a crumpet…shell. School is starting to feel like school, not so much vacation as it felt there for awhile. I laugh at myself now over my concern that after the first few weeks, I would have no new crumpets to share. Ahh, how we underestimate our fallibility even after we have resigned ourselves to it.

No.1 Missed Item This Week:
Colloquialisms (especially rapper ones)
Words like, seriously, ballin, gangsta, yo, dude, sketch, trippin, not feelin it, peace out, that’s how I roll, fo sho, holy smokes, crumbcakes, what’s the deal, cool beans, sweet, oh snap, pop and lock it, drop it, boots with the fur, make it rain, and my most favorite of all….peace out yo. etc are sadly slowly slipping out of my everyday use due to the fact that it takes longer to explain the slang than to stop myself from using it. Therefore, using bland, universal, phrases have unfortunately been substituted. But I am so thankful to be able to use my fun words with my people at home over facebook and skype…it keeps my sanity. Thank you for humoring me.

Peace out Brussels sprouts.

Top 10 Crumpets Week 5

Crumpet #1: In my opinion, if an institution “requires” all students in one lecture class to read 15 texts outside of lecture, and charges 7.50 pounds for requesting an inter-library loan, knowing that the entire class will be needing the same books, if I were the president of such an institution I would a) have more copies of the texts available and b) not put a 12-item limit to loans per library card.

Furthermore…the library should not have the right to “recall” books earlier than the mutually agreed upon 3-week loan.

Crumpet #2: The London Tube electronic swipe pass is called an Oyster Card…how in the world that name applies, I have no idea.

Crumpet #3: It is highly likely that one who has studied, researched, and adequately prepared for a trip, even in the slightest sense of ‘prepared,’ probably knows more than the tourist information agent hiding behind the little desk secretly hoping you won’t ask a difficult question. How do these people sleep at night knowing they have misled hopeless tourists day in and day out?

Crumpet #4: Similarly, beware of information agents who say, “steal a car” in response to a query regarding the easiest way to get to a place, or “oh, that will take 4 hours to get there by bus,” in response to a query regarding a site 20 miles up the road, or my favorite, “you’re best getting a cab…it’s a bit of a walk” regarding the query to get to a city centre no more than half a mile away. Please. All this translates into: “Don’t bother me.”

Crumpet #5: Happy Hippo biscuits (made by Kinder…as in Kinder Egg) are the best thing ever since teddy grahams. The Hippo treats are shaped like hippos in a wafer with hazelnut filling on the inside. They brighten anyone’s day. Can’t wait to try the Happy Hippo Cocoa Cream flavor.

Crumpet #6: After 5 weeks away from any culinary-related responsibilities, washing dishes and setting a table are two of the most comforting chores in the world.

Crumpet #7: The big green man featured on the crosswalk pictures becomes the man of one’s dreams at night after a full day of street-crossing.

Crumpet #8: Trying to explain the concept of Southern biscuits and gravy to someone who thinks a biscuit is a cookie and gravy is brown juice/blood mixture from cooked meat is rather complicated.

Crumpet #9: When a security guard asks you, “Looks like someone was singin last night!” in response to your change purse full of coins, do not automatically assume he was reading your mind and heard you singing “Feed the Birds” or “Just You Wait, Henry Higgins.” This is a customary phrase said to someone who has a lot of change. (Why musicals have become such a daily infusion into my thought processes, I am at a loss, especially given that I can’t sing and generally successfully repress musical urges because of that fact).

Crumpet #10: If someone from the opposite gender asks you (rather flawlessly) to meet him at a bar to ‘practice his English’…it is probably best to leave the Oxford Companion to English Grammar at home. Along with the zoo animal flashcards.
With that said, this is probably the most overused pickup line circulating in international communities.

I will try to keep this narrative brief, but my stay in London was probably the closest snapshot of ultimate Englishness for the entire trip so far. Sharing breakfast, dinner, and tea time with our hostess who lived in a row of small two-story apartments in a London suburb, generated some of the best conversation I have ever had. Since I was 13, I have kept a list of my favorite conversations on big travel ventures. (Yes, I realize the irony of this given that conversation is not my strongpoint). But just to give some scale, this one made the list. I’m sure the fact that it was so nice to be in an actual home with someone who reminded me so much of my mom had something to do with that, but even so; conversation like that is really at the heart of traveling. I mean, who knew hardcore skiers who scale the Alps all the time actually prefer staying a week on holiday in Maine?

Highlights this week: LONDON!! There is way too much to see, but it is close enough to make a few trips while I’m here for 5 more months. My favorite part of London was the Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey. Jane Austen represent :)

No.1 Missed Item This Week:
SWEET TEA (not the hot kind, not the artificial kind from the can…the fresh-brewed, on the rocks kind).

Peace out Brussels sprouts.

Top 10 (+10) CANNOLI Weeks 6 and 7

Feb. 24, 2009

Cannoli are flaky pastries filled with sweetened ricotta cream cheese and chocolate.
On my “Reading Week,” aka Spring Break, I spent 10 (expensive) days in Italy touring Rome, Venice, Pisa, and Florence. It was great to meet up with Emily Baird and Kristen Whaley there—familiar faces from the bubble! We met lots of new people, swapped stories, and definitely had some memorable moments. ;)

Here are some cannoli tidbits regarding my cultural findings…

Cannoli #1: Italians expect exact change for everything. It is a huge burden to make change for tourists. Additionally, hardly any businesses, including hostels, take credit cards, which makes the whole exact change thing even harder.

Cannoli #2: One will likely knock 20 years off her life in Italy after inhaling so much secondhand smoke in public places, such as train stations, hostel rooms, restaurants, bars, and tightly packed sidewalks.

Cannoli #3: Gelato—ice cream with a lighter, more moussy texture—is the best dessert that ever was created. It comes in a wide variety of flavors. Nocciolo (hazelnut) is a personal favorite. Likewise, donuts in Italy are quite spectacular. But then, what food isn’t in Italy?

Cannoli #4: One must take great care in ensuring that she does not miss huge historical monuments on account of always looking down at the sidewalks to avoid making eye contact with Italian men. The slightest bit of eye contact or courtesy smile is construed as something way more than it was meant to be. And you will pay for this…sometimes for as long as five blocks.

Cannoli #5: If one does not have a reserved ticket on a train, she must validate it by punching it at the yellow boxes on the platforms before boarding. Otherwise, one is charged a 5 Euro transportation violation fee. Despite the fact that no one volunteered the information that the ticket had to be “validated” after purchase. And despite the fact that paying for the train’s “service” was rather pointless to begin with because the train was one hour leaving to begin with and no information or update was given to explain anything. And also despite there not being any marquee or intercom speaker that tells you at which station the train is stopping.

Cannoli #6: It is impossible to find tourist information in Italy. If one is fortunate enough of find a tourist information booth, the state-employed cranky personnel likely cannot help you.

Cannoli #7: If one is a woman, it is generally a good rule of thumb to seek out information from women personnel. On several occasions, treatment from Italian male workers, especially with enquires regarding train times and ticket purchasing, was so disrespectful and intimidating including, but not limited to: literally yelling at you in anger, throwing a credit card back in your face, or talking to themselves under their breath most likely cursing you in Italian.

Cannoli #8: Despite the above, the male security workers at the Vatican are very helpful, safe, respectful, and absolutely gorgeous.

Cannoli #9: Ironically, a chicken sandwich meal with cannoli at McDonald’s was the most expensive meal we ate in Italy.

Cannoli #10: Pizza and pasta in Italy are not just stereotypes. They are cheap mainstays to hungry college students on a budget. Parmesean cheese and noodles for 4 Euro = at least two nights of dinner for three.

Cannoli #11: When one does not at least try to speak in Italian, the locals tend to be a bit annoyed with the speaker’s American tourist-ness.

Cannoli #12: Bonjourno, Prego, Bene (and maybe moto bene), and Grazie will get you around in Italy even if you don’t know the language. Just walk around saying it with gusto and a hand gesture: Prrrr-ay-goh, prrr-ay-goh!!

Cannoli #13: If one makes a conscious effort to speak Italian when ordering an orange juice or pizza, for example, she gets laughed at.

Cannoli #14: The Leaning Tower of Pisa is actually really hard to photograph. However “leany” it might look in real life, it is so hard to make it look just as “leany” in the photos. The best photo op for ultimate “leany-ness” is from the southeast side.

Cannoli #15: When you realize you just spent 7 Euro to see a bunch of dead bushes and statues…have fun with it and take photos with statues to salvage the morale.

Cannoli #16: The absurdity of Carnival is perhaps best illustrated by San Marcos Square in Venice. Locals dress up in elaborate 1800s dresses with masks and glide through the square with the sole purpose of being seen and photographed. However, nothing beats three huge dinosaurs stalking into the square on stilts towering above the crowd, chasing people, surrounding innocent bystanders, dive-bombing into the crowd, grabbing hats and heads, chasing screaming girls, and making weird squawky dinosaur noises. (If I had been just a few years younger, this would have seriously scarred me for life).

Cannoli #17: The main mode of transport within the island city of Venice is by boat. Therefore, one must rely on the waterbus for getting around. Outside the canals on the open sea skirting around the city is quite dangerous. There are no traffic lights, so near as I can tell it is just a free for all with the right-of-way concept. Some must enjoy the thrill of racing a boat to get the inside lane around the city, splashing through a huge barge’s wake in the process with water drenching the sides of a public transport vehicle. No prego para mi.

Cannoli #18: Everything famous that you see in paintings (“The Creation of Adam” on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, The Pieta, the Romulus and Remus wolf statue—which was nearly blocked by a huge construction wall and tiny—is like ten times smaller than you think it is. That is, with the exception of the David. He is HUGE.

Cannoli #19: Sunglasses are one of the best self-defense mechanisms one can have in Italy. They allow you to sweep your surroundings undercover, no one can tell if you’re looking at them, and they are great on the metros. Yes. Even on the metros.

Cannoli #20: Metros in Rome are not pleasant. Dark, dank, and all around sketchy, one should hope she does not get electrocuted from water dripping down onto the electric rail lines. And then there’s pickpocket dodging.

I realize now that these seem to a bit pessimistic and anti-male, and I apologize for that. Perhaps if I spent more time in Italy with the mindset of knowing I was going to live there for a few months, I would be able to work through and be more critical of my pessimism while there. I just simply have never felt so threatened and disrespected just for being a woman—an American woman. I also am usually not so inclined to violence, but in Rome especially, I found myself constantly having to really restrain from turning around and pummeling multiple guys for their crude comments.

But true to Italy’s romantic descriptions was its scenery. Venice was my favorite part of Italy, and while touristy, it was so laid back and festive. I loved being there for Carnival and being able to finally see a sunset after two months of clouds in England. Despite transportation hassles, I loved riding the trains through the country and seeing the colorful stucco houses and farms. All the piazzas, dry sun, and houses in Italy reminded me so much of all the family in San Diego. So in a weird way, I felt at home there because the landscape could have easily been California!

And I also realize, that while frustrating for me as an American tourist used to having information readily available, the mindset for Italians regarding tourism is simply that all the rich history and access to ancient civilization on their doorstep is just simply there—a part of their everyday culture and way of life. There isn’t really a need to capitalize on it as we would be so quick to do in America.

Sorry this is so long. There is of course way more to tell, but I’ll have to talk in person! Much thanks to all for the emails and skype attentiveness. It’s been much easier to communicate with people back home, than I thought it would. And I owe you all for going out of your way to stay in touch and keep me posted. I really, really do appreciate it!

Missed item this week: Free potable water from the tap.

Peace out Brussels sprouts! yo.