Last update of Michaelmas Term.

First question: what does Michaelmas even mean? It means "Fall" in stuffy, academic English.

Second question: why haven't you updated your blog in forever? Answer: I've been way too busy. Work, school, life. It happens. I assure you that next term, the name of which escapes me at this moment, will lend to more free time, more London sight-seeing (I hope), and more blogging in between writing my dissertation, which I am determined to finish by the expiry date on my London life on 5 July 2008 (note: format of date).

I will be jet-setting to Madrid tomorrow, and Lisbon on Monday, and I will be back in London for a few days, before I go back home to Los Angeles on Christmas Eve. I will be back in London in mid-January.

My term analysis:

I am beyond happy that this term is finally done. I have worked way too much and not lived nearly enough. I have fallen terribly short on walks around London, museums, night life, and exploring neighborhoods. I have also failed to do weekend trips to Europe. After all, such trips are requisite at LSE (Let's See Europe).

In terms of accomplishing things, I have made great friends, went out a few times (though not nearly enough), added something to my CV, became comfortable with London, heard back from some law schools (thus relieving a great deal of anxiety), and readjusted my expectations, that terrible thing that lets you down so often.

I don't know quite what to write at this point. Let's end it with promises of picture posts really soon.

Twitter.

Dear readers,

My apologies for not updating.  Watch this page post January 12, 2009 and it will get much more exciting as I do London full force.

In the mean time, be amused by my Twitter site.  Since I have unlimited texts, I am going to have lots of fun with it.  Note: it will only be updated with all due speed while I am in London.

Enjoy!

Twitter

Person under train.

I went to sleep last night.  That might seem like a no-brainer, but think about it, friends: time difference + historic election = stay up until 5am waiting for results.  Being emotionally frail and not able to handle disappointment, I thought it best to just wake up and see the results.  Lo and behold, great news awaited me and really made my day.  Obama's victory speech was really quite emotional and made me unapologetically and legitimately proud to be American.

Okay, we have all heard or experienced that so far.  Moving on with my day: I go to work, have a short, uneventful day, allowing me time to do some uni reading.  I talk to employers about Obama and I leave work with a spring in my step.  What could ruin this day? Absolutely nothing.

I go to the Central Line station at Marble Arch, and then the downer kicked in: "Eastbound Central Line closed.  Person under train at Liverpool Street."  So I have to take the bus.  Insert expletive here.

Dearest readers, are you wondering what exactly "Person under train" means? Well, this means that fate has conspired to oblige me to spend an hour getting home via bus, as opposed to the 15 minute Tube ride, for one of three reasons:

1. A depressed human being throwing himself/herself in front of a train.

2. A psychotic human being throwing himself/herself or someone else in front of a train.

3. A terribly clumsy human being with terrible luck.

A reader of this blog had previously mentioned that people "go under trains" (as London transport calls it), but I didn't believe it would happen too often.  Today's incident has been the second time on the Central Line since Monday.  Epidemic.

Transport.

In my country there is problem, and that problem's called "transport."  Good thing London has good transport.

My (lack of) time in London.

Dear readers,

My apologies for the far and few updates. I must first credit a devoted reader from Australia for the title of this entry. Well done.

Also, this entry will take on that "Seinfeld" tone where you observe the small things in life.

Last week, I was quite overwhelmed with life. I had about 20 hours of working, and on top of that, there is school. Oh, and to spice it up, British bureaucracy bites back (alliteration, anyone? oh, and assonance). Barclays had failed to send my debit card, and I outwardly exhibited my anger and frustration to them. Congratulations, Barclays. You have accomplished something few customer service representatives have achieved to date: my throwing aside my own self-interest and my "pity me and help me out" tone, and displaying my "I hate you, and I don't care if you hate me; we are through" tone.

Don't worry. America came to the rescue. Citibank (an American bank) has swiftly responded in kind with my debit card, a free account, 6.25% interest on my savings, some sense of normalcy, and finally, my dignity and respect as a debit-card and monthy-mobile-phone-plan posessing human being.

Right. As for university (I am hereby barred from using the word "school" since it alludes to that of the primary or secondary variety), it's going well and I am getting to know more people in the International Relations program. However, I really am enjoying my law class. It's great to finally delve into a subject that I have aspired to learn about and that has essentially been off-limits until law school (next year). So far, Wikipedia has been my saviour in understanding Latin terms, but aside from that, concepts in the class are not completely out of my grasp.

And to close, it properly rained last night. Being inside in the rain and drinking tea: very London.

Picture post, Volume 2: people, part 1.

So, here are some of the people in my London life.  People are pretty important, so they deserve some attention in said blog. If you have not made the cut in these pictures, it's not that I don't love you (and I can think of a few of you who should be here). Rather, it's because I don't have pictures with you! Get to it, people. You can make part 2.

Some of my flatmates; we just had a nice dinner together.  They are so international and hailing from everywhere.  Exotic homelands included: Portugal, Indonesia, Turkey, Greece, and New Mexico. 

My dear Sally and I.  Aw shucks.

Sally and her roommate, Keri.  Love.

Neema and Jenny: my Holborn mum and dad.  They are divorced. They fight too much.

Jenny and Uncle Mike. Canadian and cool.

Anyssa: actually lived with my cousin in Haifa. Drinking my coffee. It was terrible. 

Also, future picture posts: Transport, School, and My Barrio.

Picture Post, Volume 1: life.

 

Outside my window - day.

Outside kitchen window - night.

 

The room.

 

The kitchen.