It's strange living in the house in which you grew up. As much as you and your parents try not to let it happen, you will begin to regress into the parent/child relationship. This natural regression juxtaposes with that from which it regresses, namely, your independence and maturity. Your parents are just as conflicted -- inevitably they will both (1) treat you like a child and (2) treat you like an adult, at varying times and in different ways. You, in turn, will feel and act (a) like the teenager still living in that house, running up the stairs to your room and screaming down the hall, "I hate you! You'll never understand me!!" before slamming your bedroom door shut and (b) the adult daughter you've become since moving out, who has created a life for herself and been independent and somehow, even become good friends with her mother. The struggle between the two creates high levels of stress and confusion for everyone involved and there is bound to be some tension as everyone tries to adjust to an adult child who moves home. Even if the understanding is that the stay is temporary, there will inevitably be some friction.

~**~**~

My mom and I are fighting a lot and I feel bad about it. It's straining for both of us, my being here, and I'll be glad to be back in LA in summer. I think I'll be moving back to LA between 20 June -- 3 July. So I just have to survive until then. I hope my mom can too.


CBEST: taken
GRE: Monday
CSET: May 17


~**~**~

Other than that, I have something fun to look forward to! I'm going to the ZOO on Friday on a field trip with one of the second-grade classrooms I'm volunteering in. I'm totally psyched, not just because the zoo is awesome and I haven't been there since Idon'tknowwhen, but because the kids are going to love the it and I get to be there to share that. It should be a really special (and awesome!) day.

I should say, too, It has been incredibly rewarding these past few months, being able to work with these kids. They're hilarious and so earnest and sweet and so smart, and I love interacting with them, whether we're reading a story or having a science lesson or just being silly. I think I'd kind of like to be a teacher. :-) It should be a really special (and awesome!) day.

~**~**~

Wow, I'm boring.

What a nice summer's day it is today. We may have a barbecue tomorrow.

I appreciate the Southern California weather so much more now that I've lived in London. It does have its drawbacks: I LOVED experiencing actual seasons in London. I loved seeing the trees aflame with red and orange leaves during fall, feeling the air grow colder, waking up to ice on my window and crunching through freshly-formed frost every morning on my way to work in winter. But I must say, winter in San Diego is fabulous. You don't need an entirely different wardrobe; you can swim, camp, etc. year round; and the temperature cools off just enough to make every day perfect. I'm glad that I can now appreciate what I have, that I can feel happy when the weather is nice, instead of looking out the window, seeing a bright blue sky, and thinking, "God, it's hot outside AGAIN."

So, ahem. Hi. It has ben quite a time since I've written, I wouldnt' be surprised if everyone's deleted me from their friends-lists. Actually, they still might -- this is not going to be a long post, as it's already 12:30 at night and I have to wake up in five hours.

So! I am in San Diego. I have pretty much decided that I'm going to be a teacher and will be applying for teaching credentialing programs that begin in LA in the fall; i.e., I'm moving to LA in fall to become a teacher. In the meanwhile I live in San Diego (with my parents! It's weird!) and am spending my time volunteering at two elementary schools and working as a tutor. I'm also taking a class at Grossmont College as a requirement to be accented to the teaching credential programs. Oh! And I'm also taking the CBEST, the CSET: Multiple Subject, and the GRE within the next two months, so I'm studying really hard for those. And if i have any time left over, I try to get up to LA for the weekends, although I spend most of the time when I'm there working at the ranch. Girl needs some cash.

So! It's a pretty hectic schedule. And that's where I am at the moment. And now, I sleep.

I completely forgot to mention that I saw my favorite author speak! Her name is Alison Weir, and she writes historical non-fiction about the Medieval/Renaissance period in England. Her best known work is The Six Wives of Henry VIII, which I read in 10th grade and which convinced me that I want to study more and more about the Tudors -- and possibly study them in grad school, as well. She's also written about the children of Henry VIII, especially about Elizabeth, the Wars of the Roses (the book I'm reading now and the one I had her sign, after which I stammered "I...I love your work" before the blush in my cheeks took over, turned me tomato-red, and left me standing in a corner trying to overcome the enthusiasm I felt when Alison Weir looked me in the eye and said "thank you."!!!!!), Eleanor of Acquitaine, the Princes in the Tower, Mary Queen of Scots, and a ton more which I have yet to read. Oh, and apparently she also writes novels? Huzzah!!

Basically, I just really, really admire her work, her dedication to detailed and thorough research, her writing, and the fact that she so passionately has persued that which she loves. And? Bonus? She spoke at Hampton Court Palace! My favorite place in London, which was once owned by Cardinal Wolsey until Anne Boleyn manipulated him into giving it to Henry VIII. It's a very special place. Needless to say, it was a fabulous night.

I just went running for the first time in ages. For a while I was a member of a gym here in London, and then I let my membership expire while I went traveling and now I have only a week left here so of course I'm not going to re-join the gym. I was feeling a bit antsy tonight -- it had been while since I've done anything active, other than packing my shit and arranging pick-ups for the boxes I'm shipping and acquiring and filling out paperwork for my tax refund and all the other fun moving type stuff -- so I decided that despite the cold and the dodgy neighbourhood, I was going to run.

And I'm really, really glad I did. Granted, it wasn't a marathon or anything -- I ran down to Cricklewood and back, roughly fifteen minutes each way -- but I had my iPod with me and lovely English scenery to run through and the crisp, cold air on my cheeks to counteract the warming effect of the running, and by the time I got back my heart was beating faster and my hair was in disarray and all that that happens after you come back from a run, and I'm happy about it. The adreneline, happiness, epinephrin (sp?), whatever-you-call-it that's pumping through me right now is exactly why I work out (you know, in addition to the "it's healthy for me" thing), and I need to remember to do it more, not just when I'm antsy. It needs to be a part of my regular routine.

I keep going through phases, where I'll be really good about working out regularly for a few weeks and then it'll stop, for whatever reason, and it's just so hard to start up again. So I need to remember this feeling, and remember that the gain is so worth whatever "annoying" effort it takes to actually put my damn running shoes on, already, and take half an hour out of my day to go work up a sweat.

Eh. This is really just an attempt at self-motivation, then, and not really anything worth reading if you're not me. Oh well! Running! Woot! I'm off to take a shower now, because I hate going to sleep sweaty! G'night!

Let me begin this first with a disclaimer: The following does not affect my feelings toward London, Europe, or the British people. I love London. I still think this is the most magical city in the world. And I have learned so much, in so many capacities, while I've been here. I've made some friends that, I think, will become lifelong. I've had one-of-a-kind, life-changing experiences. It's been unforgettable, and I am sad that it is over.

That being said....I AM SO FREAKING EXCITED THAT I'LL BE HOME IN EIGHT DAYS!!!! I desperately hope that I'm not building it up too much, and I know that when I get there I will, inevitably, fall apart, because I don't handle sudden change very well. But at the moment -- I am just jumpy with excitement at the idea of going home, of seeing my friends, of driving my car, of having Christmas with my family ... of being in southern California again. I am so surprised by how enormous this emotion is, and at first I identified it as nerves ... but I've come to realize that I'm just deathly excited. I'm practically jumping for joy here. I want to make myself savour my last few days in London -- I'm going to Hyde Park one more time, Portobello Road, going out with my roommates, while intermittantly packing and then weeping over how expensive it is to get all my shit home -- but I will be home NEXT WEEKEND, and that is what keeps playing through my mind.

London, I love you. I love your architecture, your parks, your river. I love your weather, and your sayings, and your attitude. I love your history, your culture. I love that you've allowed me to see what it's like to be a Londoner, and I cannot wait to come back. But...a visit home is what I need.

God, I'm acting like such a LITTLE KID.

Seriously. Every single person that I miss paraded through my dreams last night, for the length of an excited scream (me), a big grin (them), and a hug, and then vanished, only to be replaced by someone else I hold dear.

I haven't been lonely -- I'm currently in Paris, and this is my first day alone, I've been sort of exploring alongside a few people I met in my hostel -- but my dream made me happy. I think I am ready to go home, at least for a little while. Being with Audrey last week in Florence reminded me of how good it is to spend time with the people who know you, who love you unconditionally, and who miss you when you're gone. I love London and I'm enjoying my time here, but I think I could use some reunion. I'll be home in December.

so I am in Marseille right now, hiding in my hotel. I hate that I have to do this, but honestly, I've had one of the most frustrating days that I've had in a while. On top of missing my flight yesterday because I was an idiot and went to the wrong airport, I paid for another ticket to Marseille this morning -- because the man at the desk said "it will cost you 15 pounds to transfer the ticket", so I said "ok" and gave him my credit card. Turns out that it was 15 pounds PLUS 90 pounds in taxes, which that asshole didn't bother to tell me about until he gave me the receipt for the non-refundable flight that I had just purchased. So, pissed off about that. Then, I wake up this morning with a pounding migraine, my suitcase broke on the way to the train station (the handle that pulls out and lets me roll it down the street? Now gets stuck in either the "up" position or the "down" position and you have to basically take all the stuff out of the suitcase to fumble around and press certain buttons to change it. I've opted to leave it in the "up" position, although when I take it on flights it will probably get broken), and I didn't have time to eat.

Once I got here, the city seemed absolutely lovely, and I was excited about exploring it ... until I asked someone directions and he decided that that was encouragement and followed me around the city all day. So, instead of exploring the city, I ate a sandwich as quickly as possible because I was starving and hightailed it back to my hotel, this random guy trailing the whole way. I mean, I've been followed before, but never so persistantly...I don't know how many times I said, "no, I'm not interested, I don't want to go home with you, because I am not interested, because I don't want to, au revoir,...no, no, no", but it didn't seem to have the slightest impression on him (and yes, I was saying it in French). He just kept saying, "yes, yes yes....you go home with me? you sleep with me? why not? why not? yes..." and he followed me up to my hotel door and tried to get in despite my being very firm and saying "NO" ("oui, oui"), and finally the hotelier saw what was going on and came and yelled at the guy in French, thank god. So now I am hiding. If I leave tomorrow morning and he's waiting there (A possibility, now that he knows where I am staying. I really didn't want him to know, but it was the only way I could escape him) I might hit him. It might be the only thing to get through to him.....although honestly, maybe not. In Barbados I slapped a guy across the face because he was following me and saying disgusting things and after I turned around and smacked him and said "do NOT talk to me", he asked for my phone number. That's kind of the problem of being a girl traveling alone in some of these countries.

So far this is a very frustrating trip, but I really hope it will clear up. Marseille seems lovely, and I am looking forward to exploring the seaside tomorrow. I AM excited to be here, despite the rocky start. And at least I will have a good night's sleep.

So I know I haven't posted pictures of London or Morocco yet, but I have a perfectly legitimate reason. My computer was so damn full that it wouldn't let me upload more photos; hey, it wouldn't even let me add bookmarks. I was having issues with buying an external hard drive and just recently got one that worked and was compatible with my Mac. So! All my pictures are there and I have some room on my computer again, praise Allah.

That being said, I'm still not going to be posting anything for a while. My job here has finished and I am frantically trying to get some travelling in before I fly home on 13 December. In one month. When I think about it I get sad and slightly panicky, so I won't be thinking about it until the last possible moment. I've just returned from a week in Italy, which was incredible. I spent a couple days in Rome and didn't get to see nearly everything, although I did see some amazing things, including several Michaelangelos (Sistine Chapel, Pieta, Moses), St. Peter's Basilica, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon....it was ... a dream come true. And then a few days in Florence, where Audrey took the train down to see me and we had a lovely time, including a leisurely lunch overlooking the Ponte Vecchio. Florence is a beautiful city. I saw the Palazzo Vecchio, and the Uffizi Gallery, and the David, and there is a fantastic museum for musical instruments there as well. The character of the city is so lovely...I'm going to start running out of adjectives.

And the food! Italian food really is as good as they say. And I am already starting to have gelato withdrawal. I don't know how many gelatos I had, but i do not regret a single one. My favorite was the melone flavour that I found on a little side street when I got lost in Rome. I tried risotto for the first time (and loved it), pasta with tartufo (truffle, a special fancy kind of mushroom, delicious), pasta alla carbonara....I've never eaten so well in my life. And the cappuccinos! And espressos! Honestly, I might have enjoyed the foods more than the sights.

Anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow for France, so no time to work on pictures when I need to do laundry and double check tickets and all that. But I am alive and having an amazing time touring Europe and I do not want to think about leaving London. That is all.

Ten minutes ago, I heard myself say, "oh yeah, it's easy; just take the Jubilee line down to Green Park, then the Piccadilly Line out to zone six. Probably a little more than an hour?"

Seven months ago I would have had no idea what that sentence meant, and now I just spout it like it's nothing. England's done things to me.

I've returned from Morocco, and I had a fabulous time. I've uploaded the pictures onto my computer, but I'm exhausted from unpacking (I just got back yesterday). So, hopefully I'll go through the pictures soon and post them, and about the trip. Fantastic.

I think the only thing holding me to Los Angeles is the ranch. I haven't mentioned it here, but...the fact is that I've had at least two dreams a week about the ranch since I've been in England. And most have been, basically, the same dream...I go there after having been in England to find that it's all changed, to find that it's grown and altered while I've been gone, and then I go into the pen to try to find my horse, Xavier, only to be unable to find him. I search and I search, and I can't find him. And then I wake up.

Two nights ago, the dream was slightly different. I arrived at the ranch to find that all was different, but then I glanced in the pen to see....Xavier. He was there, eating, waiting patiently for me, and I turned from him for a moment so that I could concentrate on the differences that had overcome the offices, confident in the knowledge that he would be there, waiting for me. And then I woke up.

Honestly? I think the difference this time stems from the fact that, in reply to a mass e-mail I sent out a few nights ago, I received an e-mail from my friend Eric at the ranch, confirming how much he and everyone at the ranch still missed me and thought about me. I think my dream came from the fear that they would forget me, that the ranch would ebb and flow and they would forget that they ever knew me, that I mattered not at all to the inner workings of the ranch. That not only Xavier, but the people who made the ranch special would not care whether I was in their lives or not.

But that changed with the reply e-mail that I received, that Eric misses me and that the ranch misses me, and that Eric would be posting my e-mail up on the bulletin board for all to read. I matter there, and that matters to me because the ranch is so important to me.

In some ways, I wish it wasn't, because if I didn't care about the ranch, it would be so easy to move to San Francisco when I go back to the States. Honestly, I think I would like San Francisco better than I like Los Angeles, or San Diego -- I like the way I would dress there, who I would be there, the environment to which I would be exposed there. People I love would be within convenient communication distance -- my sister, and Audrey, and Jill and Meera. My group of girls, who make me so happy. I've never had such a group of girls, who support your growth and change as a woman, who love you unconditionally and encourage you to explore and love who you are. I draw my strength from them.

And yet...I draw my happiness and solace from the ranch. The people and horses there make me feel innerly (not a word, but whatever) content. What to do? San Francisco, where the right environment and strength is? Or Los Angeles, where happiness and contentment are? I am so confused about where I want to end up. I know it's one of those two cities....but which? And how to decide? (ANY ADVICE WOULD BE WELCOME, PLEASE)

a few randoms:

so I've started thinking in a British accent, especially at work. It's slightly odd. Also, when I talk to myself (shut up, that's not what this is about), it's usually with an accent. And when I speak with other people, especially if they are English, I have to actively stop myself from speaking with an accent as well. The different pronuncuations, the different intonations and manners of speaking, feel strange in my mouth, and I know that if I were to actually begin speaking with an accent I would never hear the end of it, so I refrain; but it's becoming bloody difficult not to. I've slipped a few times, at work, and pronounced a few words in the British way; no one here noticed, because that's what sounds natural to them, but I definitely noticed and immediately felt stupid. I simply cannot begin to speak with an accent. The second I go home and the word "to-MAH-to" or "week-END" slips through my lips, I will sound like one of those pompous Americans who puts on a British accent to make sure everyone knows I'm better than they are. I'd rather not be that person. But honestly? It might happen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

ok, time to play Two Truths and a Lie! Guess which one hasn't happened to me since I've been in London!


1. A man tried to steal my purse while I was taking a walk by the Thames and wound up dropping it into the river.

2. I told Europe's foremost diamond dealer his business was based on the exploitation and deaths of already underpaid South African miners.

3. A man deliberately punched me in the head on the Tube.



England sounds awesome, doesn't it? :-)

It's started to hit me, recently, that I only have two and a half more months in London before I have to go home. For so long, it's been this long stretch of time that I can just forget about -- "I'm here for six months", I'd say, "and then a month of travelling before I go home in December." December! The month of snowfalls and Christmas and yet another birthday! The last month of the year! It seemed so far away! And now suddenly it's the middle of September and I've been here for four and a half months, and I'm starting to see the end of this road.

I hope and plan to live the next two months to the fullest. To do something fun, or worthwhile, every day, if I can...to really make sure that I enjoy everything that I can about being here. I fully intend to come back later in life -- either for a visit or a move, I don't know -- but I know that I'll be back and that's a comfort. And meanwhile, I can create a good life for myself while I'm over here. Mundane things -- the gym, the library, restaurants, cinemas, museums, parks, theatre -- combined with more exciting things -- a tour of the British Isles, Morocco, Marseille, Rome, Florence -- are what I plan to have fill my life for the next two months.

London's been incredibly hard at times. The month of August was....not good. Truth be told, I almost quit and went home -- I was thisclose to booking a ticket. Some advice from friends, however, in addition to my own gut feelings, convinced me to stay, to try to stick it out and make this time in London good and worthwhile, and I'm so glad that I did. I love London more than ever now, its quirks and charms, and I will be sad to leave.

For now, however, all I can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to me. Like two day Lord of the Rings: The Extended Version marathons with a good friend from South Africa.

So the London Underground workers are striking until Friday, which means that I have a day off of work today. I didn't start with that intention; hell, I woke up early to do my hair and make sure that my suit was ironed enough to look passable for this private equity firm near Liverpool Street (where I was scheduled to make at least two hundred telephone sales calls. Ah, the life of a temp). However, after an hour and a half of trying to get there via bus (one driver dumped all of his passengers, including yours truly, off in the middle of Covent Garden and refused to go any further (he was supposed to go all the way to Liverpool Street)) and finding myself only halfway to work with no idea how to go further, I called my recruitment agent for help. Her words to me were lovely: "that's fine, don't even worry about going in, it's been a nightmare for everyone. We'll reschedule for Monday." And voila! A day off of work!

So today wound up being an absolutely lovely day. The weather was just perfect, for once -- sunny, without being too hot. I meandered through the Strand toward Trafalgar Square, just enjoying the sights and sounds of London, and wound up at the National Portrait Gallery. Since museums in London are free, huzzah! I went in and passed a fantastic two hours wandering up and down the cool, spacious hallways of the NPG, reveling in the beautiful colors and masterful rendering of some amazing paintings that I've always wanted to see in person.

And then a quick stroll up Charing Cross Road (or at least, what would have been a quick stroll if I hadn't stopped in two or three of the antique book stores that line that particular road) and I found myself on Oxford Street. Had a fantastic sushi lunch at this little Japanese restaurant and wound up buying a new bag (it's green! and there are buckles on it!) before catching the tube home (the only lines running are the Jubilee line and the Northern line. Thankfully, I live on the Jubilee line. Easy!).

And now here I sit, browsing the internet in my pajamas with a cup of coffee near at hand. It's been such a picture-perfect London day, the type of day that makes me so glad that I live here. If the tube had been running I would have spent some time in St. James Park reading my book -- but then again, if the tube was running I'd be at work, so never mind. Basically, this was the type of leisurely day that I used to long for when I was sitting in LA traffic, stewing with rage that it would take me an hour to drive ten blocks only to find no parking anywhere near my building. Today, I fell in love with London one more time.

I'll leave you with something I heard while I was waiting for the National Portrait Gallery to open this morning:

I was standing next to a little girl, age four or five, and her mother, a young blonde woman who'd brought a copy of OK! to read until the museum opened. The mother pulled out the magazine and flipped it open while her daughter ran to play with the elaborately wrought iron railing surrounding the building. She seemed to become increasingly interested with trying to fit her little body parts through various openings in the intricately woven barrier. First, she stuck a finger through a small gap and quickly pulled it out. Giggling, delighted with herself, she tried her hand next, then her foot. Elbow, knee, arm -- all fit. It was when the little girl put her forehead against the railing and started cautiously pushing her little skull through that her mother spoke to her.

"Careful, honey," she said, monotone, turning another page in her magazine. "You don't want to get your head stuck like yesterday."

I think it might be time to actually plan something akin to a future. I've never been very good at putting things into perspective, in the long run; while I am very good at planning the next few months, it's the planning for the next few years that is tricky. I seem to have an "all or none" approach -- I have to do everything that I want to do, right now, or I'm going to miss out on it. I'm not sure why it's so difficult for me to grasp the concept of putting in years of work -- perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I'm not entirely sure what I want to do, what will make me happy in the future, and I'm terrified of going down one path for years only to find that it's the wrong one and, at the age of 40, need to start from the beginning. I'm afraid of living my life and having nothing to show for it.

But ... I think it's time to get over the indecision. I think I've become a little too old for such instability. I'm barely making it here in London, hanging on by sheer will and desperation, because I bit off a bit more than I can chew and I'm paying the price of it now. No close friends, no job, no money, and no direction. I'm in over my head and trying to stay afloat, and I'm paralyzed with indecision about my future -- what do I really want? how can I achieve everything I want? What are my contingency plans in case I don't really want what I think I want? I cannot do something if I don't have a potential way out.

There are so many choices, so many paths that my life can take, and I've been hesitant to choose one -- because choosing one door closes others, and I'm afraid that I'll close the door on the future that I actually want and just don't know yet that I want. Does this make any sense?

I spoke with my parents last night, which I think helped clear up a lot for me. For some reason I can't help feeling like everyone else has it together, that everyone else I know either has their life planned, or has lived the life that they wanted, smooth sailing all the way. That everyone knows what they want and how to get there. It's so naive, I know....but I've been called naive more than once. Anyway, it just felt good to speak with people who have been there, who have lived life and made career decisions, family decisions, living decisions, future decisions, and lived to tell about it. Just hearing from experienced people that it is always possible to start over, but that it's just as necessary to make a choice...because I can't be suspended in limbo forever, can I? Knowing that I have my parents' support and experience behind me give me strength, I think, to make a decision -- and if it's the wrong one, no, it will not be the end of my life. It's important to make decisions, even if they're the wrong one. It's been so hard for me to learn that.

So, decision time. Some sort of future. In that, I think that rather than go to grad school full time, I'm going to go for a teaching credential in the States (or Canada?) and then earn my master's and Ph.D while teaching. It'll be steady work, it'll be non-office and I like children. Working with children and animals has always been rewarding for me....so that's what I'm going to do. Start trying to make a real future. I'm not a kid anymore, and it's time to realize that. It might be the wrong future, but at least I'm trying. And I need that behind me.

I've been trying to sleep since 10:30. It's now 3:30 am and I'm not tired in the slightest. I have: chatted online, surfed the internet, tried to read, gone for a walk, watched a movie, and taken two sleeping pills. Not a thing has helped, and I have to wake up in three hours for work anyway. wtf?

So I haven't posted photos yet, and that's mainly been through laziness -- I've been too lazy to look for the cable that uploads pictures from my camera to my computer. But I just went to look for it and lo and behold, it seems that I don't even HAVE it, which means I have to buy a new one or maybe just wait until I go home to upload pictures. Honestly, it's leaning towards the latter (haha, anyone watch The Sarah Silverman Program?) because I just do not have that kind of money to spare.

I'm very poor at the moment. I might have to move into some place cheaper, like the street. It doesn't look too bad -- it's been relatively warm lately. And I'd have plenty of stray cats to keep me company.

Temping blows for someone like me, because it's so uncertain and impromptu and I am one of those people who needs EVERYTHING PLANNED OUT ALL THE TIME. Seriously, the farther ahead into the future I can see, the better. I get teased all the time because someone will suggest we do something and I go, "alright, cool...how about....next Wednesday at 8? I have half an hour. Or we could get a late lunch around 4 on Saturday." Because I have to have every minute of every day planned as far in advance as possible. I am NOT OK with not knowing what my schedule will be next week, with not knowing how much I'll be earning so I can budget. I have just been consistently anxious for the past two weeks.

So temping is not for me, I have learned that. However! Along with temping comes fun stories, like the day I kept putting calls through to a guy named "Babs" (hee!) or when I got into a fight on the phone with one of my (many) recruitment agents or when I was being trained by a cantankerous old bitch who wound up, after using the loo, tucking her skirt into the top of her tights and walking around like that all day.

I do, however, get placed all over London, which is lovely. I'm really getting a feel for this city. I know my way around and where to go for anything and what places to avoid when.

Also, I'm thankfully going to Morocco with Audrey and Jessy in October. And my friend Joanna is getting married in Italy at the end of September, so hopefully I can go to that. Aaaand.....that might be the only travelling I do here, outside of England. Have I mentioned that I'm poor?

My parents came to visit, which was awesome. We did all the tourist-y things, Tower of London, Big Ben/Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, the London Eye. We took a day trip out to Stonehenge, Salisbury, and Bath. I took them out for dinner (well, my mom paid so I guess she took us out, but I picked the restaurant, so it totally counts as something I did) in Leceister Square and then we walked around that area (Leceister Square, Covent Garde, Trafalgar Square). And we saw Wicked on Tuesday night, which was great. Not as good as Les Mis, which I loved, but very clever. The script was very well written and the actors were really talented.

Tomorrow I'm going to see The Sleeping Beauty and I'm SO excited about it. I might not be able to eat for the next month but damnnit, I'm getting me some fucking CULTURE.

have you ever drunk an entire bottle of wine by yourself on a saturday night and then vogue-d to Maroon 5's "Sunday Morning"? because as of tonight, I sure have!

I really miss audrey. but i also miss generally having friends to have fun with and talk with and really enjoy. i saw alex today for the first time since he left for croatia eleven days ago and tomorrow he's going home to canada. which also diminishes my list of friends. there's hardly anyone left. i'm very lonely.

i've also decided to dispense with capitalization and see how far i get. also my d keey doesn't work -- it always types two or three d's instead of one -- so sorry about that.

anyway! i have had half a bottle of wine and nothing too eat. so that is where this is coming from. also, the fact that i havent' posted in here in a while.

I miss la. which is strange, i never thought i would, but i really miss my friends and the horses and ... just, la in general. i'm thinking of moving to san francisco. i have friends there and it's really pretty and i have a car in the states, so...why not? i'm thinking about it.

i love london. absolutely LOVE it. even when it rains. people in southern california, i think, have a very different relationship with rain than people in, say, london, do. they keep complaining about the terrible weather when I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. i guess i haven't completely abandoned capital letters, just reformatted them. anyway. i love the rain. it's so beautiful and peaceful and cozy and NEW, that i don't think it's terrible. i love when it rains. i hope it rains all summer.

i saw les mis. incredible. also, i have aticket to see The Sleeping Beauty in the Royal Opera House (it's actually a ballet, but whatever) at the end of July.

I really miss audrey, already. I'm so glad she came to visit. I wish other people would. It can get very lonely here in London, among the beauty.

one more thing I've noticed: the way they dictate phone numbers here is different. If there are two or three numbers in a row, they call it "double" this or "triple" that. Like, if the phone number is (0)207 444 5536 and they're dictating it to me, they'll say it's "oh two oh seven, triple four, double five, three, six". It always catches me off guard.