It’s always better on holiday.

I can always tell when I’m about to start bleeding from a certain orifice in my body, because I get really snarky.  I suppose you could also call that bitchy.  But there you have it.  Also, I start to feel really fat.  Seriously, what the fuck is that all about?  I wonder how those of a particularly religious disposition reconcile these facts with their world view.  A benevolent creator thinks it will just be a really good joke to make every rational creature with two X chromosomes bleed for a week, think very (mean) irrational thoughts towards her friends, family and partner and feel like a veritable elephant woman, you know, just for fun.

Well, I don’t think it’s fun.  What’s worse is that I can recognize the change in my mood and demeanor, but there is nothing I can do about it.  I just walk around with a really short fuse for a week.  Maybe even two.

Still, I guess this means I’m not pregnant.  Although I didn’t really think it was a possibility, the realization that I really liked the way peanut butter and pickles tasted when I accidentally ate them in tandem the other day was slightly alarming.

Now, I’ve just learned that I’m apparently a freak.

 

So, yes, on to the matter at hand of this blog post.

 

I got my passport back the other week, and my foreign national card followed it a couple days later.  Much like the really bad picture in my passport, my picture on my foreign national card showcases one very curiously raised eyebrow.  I’m convinced this must just reflect my picture face.  When seated in front of a camera, I cock an eyebrow up in defiance, as if telepathically saying to the camera (or photographer), ‘Take my picture, and I’ll CUT you’.  

Lovely.

In addition to the somewhat frighteningly raised left eyebrow, I have somehow managed to competently pantomime a Polish immigrant in this picture.  It’s amazing.

But, yes, so now that I have these travel documents, we’ve been planning a trip back to Orlando for a visit.  Since we had a very short honeymoon after the wedding in December and I’m so desperate to actually take a holiday (nothing against Orlando, of course, but I don’t really see it as a holiday in the British sense of the term), I proposed taking a layover in NYC on the way back.  I did some number crunching and airfare searching and found that it would cost less than $100 per ticket for this weekend detour.  

Done.

I’ve been to NYC once in my life, and it was when I was underage and travelling with someone who was in the process of moving to Staten Island.  Therefore, I spent a lot of time drinking vodka from home-filled water bottles on the Staten Island ferry, drinking pitchers of margaritas the size of my head at a Mexican dive that would serve me in the Lower East Side and sleeping (passing out) on subway platforms in Williamsburg.  

In case it wasn’t clear, I didn’t really enjoy my visit.  Basically, I walked around NYC drunk.  The entire time.

Even though we’re going to spend an entire week in Orlando and only two days in NYC, I somehow feel guilty.  Like, my friends and family will be upset that I’m actually going on a holiday somewhere else.  The gall!  

But, for some reason, I imagine my trip to Orlando won’t transpire in the way I’m thinking it will.  Initially, I thought that we would spend our time visiting people, going from house to house, catching up.  But then I realized how lame this sounds.  Who wants to travel across the Atlantic to spend an entire week having dinners at people’s houses, talking about London, school, married life.  Not me.  That sounds lame as hell.

Instead, we’re going to just plan a normal holiday to Orlando.  Fit in some days at the theme parks, play some mini golf, take in the Orlando nightlife (HA!), attend a few dinner parties perhaps.  And, of course, I’m going to take Red to all the restaurants I love and miss, the ones I never took him to on his previous visits because they’re mostly strict vegetarian restaurants.  Ethos, Garden Cafe.  Oh, how I miss them.

I’m going to send our agenda off to all my friends and family members and tell them if they want to spend time with us that they’re going to have to come to a theme park or play some mini golf with us.  Because, save for a select few, I’m not making any special plans to just hang out in homes.  We’ll probably be spending a few nights over at Grandmommy and Bobba’s house, because I know that Grandmommy isn’t particularly mobile and, if I’m honest, one of the very main reasons I’m coming back to Orlando first thing is to see her, as she didn’t get to come to the wedding.  We’ll probably travel up to Ocala for a day to see Grandma and spend the day with my Mom and Mark.  I mean, even though my mom is mobile and could come down to Orlando to chill, my Grandma couldn’t.

We’ll probably also go over to Betsy’s for a night for some Irish Mist revelries.  Just because, well, it’s awesome and she’s my second mom.  Although she’d better hang out with us at some other point during our visit (Yeah, you, Betsy).  

I imagine perhaps that there might be a party of some sort, potentially at my dad and Lois’s place.  While that’s nice as well, I can’t express enough how I don’t want this holiday to turn into Red and me travelling from home to home sitting on people’s couches, smiling and talking about the wedding.

Ugh.

 

So, yes.  NYC.  Woo woo!

I don’t really know what we’ll do.  Last night Red talked about seeing a Yankees game, and I snapped at him (refer back to original thought of this post) and asked him if he really wanted to waste an entire one of our two days in NYC sitting in the bleachers of Yankee stadium with an annoyed wife.  I might have conceded if we were spending an entire week in New York, but we’re not.  So, a Yankees game is out of the question in my mind.

I started trolling through Yelp in NYC.  I have to say, I’m torn between whether to go full-on tourist in our two days or to seek out local haunts and activities.  I hate myself for being drawn to the former.

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I’m reclining in bed currently, just having finished my Oatibix with banana, almonds, and raisins with two cups of coffee.

 

I’ve been trawling Yelp and generally ignoring the rest of the internetz.  I think Yelp has started to make my mornings less and less productive, as I’m less and less inclined to get out of bed and start doing things.  You know, like working on graduate school stuff.  

 

It slightly distresses me that I’ve been doing research for about a week now without any clear idea as to what my thesis statement will be on one of my papers.  I have an appointment to discuss my papers with Sarah on Friday.  I’m not so much looking forward to that one.  In part because every conversation I have with Sarah is stilted and awkward.  In part because I feel so dreadfully underprepared on Wednesday.  Perhaps I should get out of bed and start researching like a good student would.  Yeah.

 

Also, I still don’t have my passport and visa.  Red was reading something online about people who’ve been sans passport and visa for upward to 15 weeks with no word on where it is or when they will get it back.  I came to find he did this research online after finding relatively cheap airfare to Japan.  Ha, yeah.  We’re not going to Japan.  We’re not even going back to America.  I am stuck in this country with no way to work or leave.  It’s really a shit process this visa application, I have to say.

 

Well, I suppose I should get up and get moving.  Do the good-student thing.

 

I went to yoga yesterday after henna dying my hair the day before, and once I got the sweating going, all I could sense was the damp muck smell of the henna.  Ew.  I’m going to wash my hair.  Now.  

 

And then, to the library.  But which one??  Oh, decisions.

Winning at Life: a How-To Guide

Okay, so rather than hash out everything that’s happened between now and October of last year, here’s the really brief recap.  Brevity, it’s my new thing.  (But don’t hold me to that.)

 

a) I got married.  Lots of you weren’t there.  Including my father.  In case you’re wondering, no, I won’t ever get over that.

b) It snowed here.  A lot.

c) I got merits on both of my essays from last term.  Apparently, that’s really good at this level.

d) I discovered there’s probably more of a chance of an iceberg thriving in hell than of me getting funding let alone a studentship for a PhD next year because of the economy and my ‘International’ fee status despite proven ability.  I am jaded and in huge amounts of student loan debt.

e) I am currently an illegal immigrant held hostage in the UK.  The Home Office has my passport, and I’m still waiting to hear back about my visa.

f) The elevator has been mostly not working for the last two months or so.  Probably three at this point.  I’ve stopped keeping track.  I live on the fifth floor.  That’s the sixth floor to you Americans.  This has so many levels of awesome-in-the-completely-unawesome-way that I can’t even enumerate them all.

 

Those are the highlights.  

 

I have just come home from one of my seminars.  There’s one more in the term, and then I have to write some essays.  I find that I get less schoolwork done now than I ever did back in Orlando when I worked nearly full-time hours and also went to school full time.  This is sad.  I cannot account for the paradox involved.  I wish I could get a job to see if maybe I begin spending my spare time more wisely (instead of watching really bad television programming at night), but, alas, see e) above.

 

See, look at me here.  Not spending my time so wisely now, am I?  

 

I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit worn down by my attempts to translate the Anglo-Saxon Genesis A into modern English.  It is taking forever.  I seriously have spent at least 4 hours on it to date, and I’ve only translated 64 lines.  64 LINES!  For those of you who like to feel accomplished in the tasks that you undertake, you should forgo translating one of the oldest Old English poems into Modern English when you have comparatively little formal training in this art.

 

You want to hear something funny, though?  I’ve chosen to focus my dissertation on Genesis A, thinking it would get me as familiar with Old English as I am with Middle English for my PhD topic proposal that spans the entire medieval period from the Anglo-Saxon to the late-medieval times.  And, this poem, it’s nearly 3000 lines long.  

 

Hilarious.

 

I win at life.

 

I suppose I could just rely heavily on reading the text in translation, but that’s just all sorts of academic cheating, isn’t it.  Plus, it’s not really handy for how I work, inspired frequently if not wholly on the philological moves of texts.  And it doesn’t help that the last translation of the entire text of Genesis A was in fucking 1915.  Christ alive, I don’t even want to think of the implications this has on the ‘modern’ rendering of the text.

 

And I’ve been eating a lot here, and despite f) above, I seem to have gained at least five pounds.  I know I shouldn’t care about this, but I think about it more than I should.  This hasn’t stopped me from eating chocolate on a normal basis, so I suppose that’s something.  (For the record, I don’t think I’m categorizing this paragraph under the ‘failing at life’ heading of this blog entry, because weight should never have anything to do with life FAIL!s.)

 

And I’ve been sucked into the world of internet memes more frequently than I otherwise would have liked.  (Also for the record, this is a life fail.)