Month: February 2007

5:20pm, the clock in the right hand corner of my screen is not budging. I joined the parade of women who head to the bathroom to waste the remaining minutes on the clock at work. They reapply lipstick or straighten their panty hos, or wash their hands for a solid 3 minutes.

I ran my fingers through my hair and wiped the smudges from my eyeshadow and prepped myself for a night out. Roomie is in Bath for the weekend with the girls and everyone else is headed to Amsterdam. That meant, for me this Thursday was date night!

The Leicester Square tour began at The Photographer’s Gallery. Only the bottom floor was open, but still some very interesting (and political) works. Then, just next door was the Arts Theater which was not performing Pluck, as I thought. An acclaimed violin, cello, string comedy. But the lady at the box office said the show for that night, Proof, had a real classy student discount. I’ve never heard of it before, but I keep being told it’s pretty famous. And apparently Gwynth Paltrow starred in the movie rendition.

Inbetween gallery and show time, eating was a must. And now, not to say I’m a cheap date, but I’ve been wanting to go to McDonald’s. I haven’t eaten any American fast food yet, on purpose. I wanted to eat it, just once, at a proper time. That being, not when it’s simply the cheapest, most convenient, or fastest home sickness fix. I had even mapped where the Mc’Ds was, no excuses. Classic burger, fries, and a coke filled me up. I could barely finish it. My body protested, it’s been too long.

Carried onto the show which was wonderful. A really strong plot and the acting was great. The funny part, it’s based in Chicago. I was completely unprepared for American accents, references to the Lake, the cubs losing, driving up to the North side and that magical time in September when it’s refreshingly crisp. Funny how things like that worked out.

It’s not that I didn’t have a good date, but by the end of the show I was ready to go home. After the slow conversation during intermission, I knew that after curtain call I’d be booking it to the Tube station.

No feelings were hurt, because I was my date tonight. I took myself out, and had a glorious evening. Part of it was because my ultimate goal was to see a classical performance and the other part was to not sit at home and mope because everyone has plans tonight. I didn’t go to Bath because Ashley is arriving early tomorrow morning.

I wanted too affirm myself that I’m comfortable on my own. While, it would have been nice to have someone poke fun at the couple next to me who brought their own banana chips, or maybe share a drink after the show, it is doable. At first, I couldn’t even get myself to walk into the theater. Everyone seemed to be with someone in there. Why? because they were. However, after being drunk of McDonald’s grease, I took the evening by reins. I brought myself out and I was going to have a good night, and it was.

I think I’m going to miss me when I get back to IU.

Had I celebrated Fat Tuesday I may consider giving something up for lent.I did not wear beads, did not enjoy student night at Zoobar, couldn’t find a fabulous gay parade, and…kept my shirt on.

So, I will not be giving up the free hot chocolate in my office.

If you asked me to doodle what a typical Londoner looks like, I couldn’t. Seriously, there is no standard fashion, age, skin color, facial structure, accent (I’ll get back to this), and contrary to what I’ve been told… no one really cares what you look like. People can’t be bothered to be judge you, they’ve got something else to do and somewhere else to be.

I must hear at least three different languages on The Tube a day. Other than gym shoes, snappy digi cams and Americans in their Northface jacekts, it’s pretty tough to separate locals from the rest. We’ve got every kind of brown and caucasian skin color her. No Mexicans though… no where, not-a-one in sight.

I am remembering how Annamarie described her sister’s time abroad. When you are in a city where no one knows you, she said she felt like she just floated through the streets. Not a care in the world, minding to herself.

In someways, my time here is like that. But conversely, everyone is plugging through not minding one another that, you feel no one really knows anyone else. Or, wherever they are traveling to must be so wonderful, because they are in such a hurry to get there. I’m guilty as charged of slipping through the gaps in crowds to get somewhere faster and ‘forgetting’ to pardon myself as I zip along the street. The occasional (rare) smile with a stranger is refreshing and humanising.

I was discussing with some British friends here, what makes you a Londoner? One friend said he was born here but moved away quite some time ago. Another was born outside of the city and just got a place here recently. And I said, well.. I’m only here till April. We decided, if you are here for at least one night: that night you are a Londoner.

As for the accents, obviously locals sound British. But, there are so many accents in London alone, that there is no way I could even pick one up. However, I’m getting comfortable with the lingo. Instead of asking how’s it going? the phrase is you all right?pronounced yo’allri-gh? and cheers! is used in place of thanks, no problem, goodbye, and klinking your drink of course.

I think there is a girl in my office secretly practicing American slang. She started saying see ya and me how it was going.

Work on Thursday was most fantastic! First, I was hopped up on Orange Juice which made my sick throat feel a million times better. For less important reasons, I was sent on my first photo assignment. They needed as many different shots of Parliament and Big Ben as I could get. They basically put a camera in my hands, gave me the assignment, and sent me off. Perfection!

I had some trouble with the light at first, but I got what I wanted afterwards. They were pleased with what I came back with, I believe the phrase was, “Brilliant!” So, they are going to send me out to shoot more photos. I’m cheap labour for them and good clips for me!
I also had a change of scenery and sat by the reporters today and wrote some stuff to go on the epolitix.com website. I’ve learned I much prefer web reporting that magazine!

It get’s better. I found online that more Air tickets became available, by random chance of Churchill. Every 10 minutes, I looked online to see if they were still available. I booked it to the box office only to find it was closed. This morning, I dragged my bum out of bed, and finally, after what felt like an eternal struggle, I have a ticket to see Air (+ special guest) at The Forum on the 17 of March! Glorious.

• They closed the delicious Chinese place that gives me a stomach ache. A blessing in disguise I guess.
• It snowed in Westminster and was beautiful
• Tomorrow I am going to Canterbury

I traipsed about Central London to the National and National Portrait Gallery. I successfully failed to produce some decent sketches in my book. A goal of mine is to build SOME sort of manual-visual-pencil communication. So far: nogo. As, I’m realising that as I was playing less music I was doing more visual work. These are the paintings that really caught my interest but were awfully reproduced in my sketchbook:

An Allegory for Love, Garafalo

The Four Ages of Man, Boulogne

Saint Francis in Meditation, Zurbaran

It only seems natural that after a failed attempt to draw, a live quartet was performing for an almost non-existent audience in the Portrait Gallery. Piano, Cello, Violin, and Accordian and portrait paintings of British Political Figures made for a well needed aural celebration. It was just what I needed, I think I took for granted how many performances, bands, DJs (what up Paul) I saw back at school.

The natural progression was to meet up with Shilpa and go see a band. I skipped out on my flat’s visit to ZooBar and went to the show. These were the guys I had met earlier in the week in Camden, so it was a welcomed change of pace to see The Water. Also, they do a hilarious and sadly accurate American accent.
This is majorly unrelated and mildly related. I stumbled across an ensamble? of four DJs who named themselves Birdy Nam Nam.  My favorite song is Abbsess and the video is pretty great. Yes named after the Schaumburg-Acclaimed movie of the century: THE PARTY. The group is French and fantastic, but.. how funny! BIRDY NAM NAM.
Also, tonight I finally had Chicken Masala from my Beloved Kings Kebobs. I usually just get a samosa but I needed Tikka in my life. Paired with some flame-toasted pita and sliced cucumbers made for a fiesta for my tastebuds. I’m so satisfied. Above are some reasons to love London.