I miss watching TV in my gross little room or with all of my housemates in our 70’s nightmare of a living room. Those were times I treasured. Also: Chinese food from China Town or Wednesday night Erbs and Gerbs. Bdubs too. God, I love food.
The past few days have been whirlwinds of fun, atmosphere, and (on more than one or two or three occasions) alcohol. Let’s take a trip back to the beginning of the week, shall we? All good weeks start on Mondays. Now, I am perfectly aware that Monday is not actually the traditional starting point of a week and that Sunday is usually when a week begins. OK. Fine. Whatever. All I’m saying is that I have been reprogrammed to think that all weeks begin on Monday because that’s when the academic week ensues. So, Monday. The start of a brand new week, a new leaf, a new gust of life.
Monday started early. Like 8am early. Too early if you ask me. My Mondays are probably my longest day, but I suppose it’s nice to get the worst day of the work week out of the way immediately following the glories of the weekend. Lucinda, my Pre Raphaelites professor, was late because of a tube station closing right by the center. Izzy and I were actually in the station when we heard, “Attention. Please leave the station to comply with emergency procedure. This is not a test.” Of course, the two of us were like, ZOMG!!??!1 What’s going on? Lucinda was quick to assure us that things like that happen frequently and it’s usually just a plastic bag full of discarded food being left somewhere. Still, better safe than sorry. Following 2.5 hours of art history, I visited Pret* for lunch and devoured a salad wrap with roasted pine nuts and fresh avocado…are you kidding me? So good.
Following lunch, I had about 40 minutes or so before class started so naturally I decided to snap some photos in the courtyard at the Centre. At first, I was just playing around with some of the artifacts that were already scattered around the garden area. I found some cool fencing, a couple weird fruit, a patch of black grass that grew berries, a pitchfork, some highly textured tree branches, and even some flowers. (In a garden? Some flowers?! What?!)
Right. Of course, I got a little bored and decided that if I was already taking pictures I might as well do a photo shoot. So, in my infinite awkwardness, I asked Sarah Huff, a girl in our program who, turns out, lives on the 8th floor of the Residence Hall, to pose for some of my photos. I think they turned out pretty cool. She was wearing the perfect outfit too. Following some impromptu posing lessons, Jenny Katzzzz showed up in her usually attire and I forced her into some photos as well. Jenny is one of those girls where you just point the camera and her good genes do the work…jealous.
Censored! was the next class of the day and I have to say: I LOVE WENDY HEWING. This lady is bomb and I want her to be in my life more often. Luckily, tomorrow is another Monday which means my wish should be coming true in about 24 hours.
The evening found Ben, Izzy, and I alone on the 8th floor and without our usual friends (they were all at the ice bar paying £12.50 for one drink and 40 minutes in the freezing cold.) Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the three of us decided we should have our own little bout of fun. Perhaps that is a story for another time though… Of course, this just means that I will be posting a blog about it in like 10 minutes. Isn’t it so nice that I reward my readers with some instant gratification?!
Tuesday. So sleepy. So unwell. So…life. My only class is at ten which means ready to go by 9ish. So, I am up and alive, barely, and I take the tube to class like any normal upstanding citizen. Class was playwriting and Marina seems to like me. Also, we connected by sharing equally horrifying stories involving the atrocity of Abstinence Only Education in our lives. Seriously, EducationNowAndBabiesLater? What the hell was I thinking? Tuesday was also my night to cook family dinner. We have a nice little rotation going on over her in Chelsea, and everyone knows how to cook pretty well. Except for me, apparently, as my fried rice turned out to be atrocious. No, it wasn’t terrible, but it made me miss my dad’s cooking and then, more importantly, my dad (insert “awww” and sad face here). So, I called pops but didn’t reach him. The worst part? My calling card ran out as his voicemail was triggering…lamesauce.
Wednesday was, as most days are, a day that was neither here nor there, great nor unfortunate, fun nor boring. It just was. Until dinner time that is. Turns out that Drew, who lives alone back in Indiana, can cook up a storm. He made chicken “enchiladas”—they were burritos because they were made with flour tortillas…duh…love Zona Rosa—and they were fanfreakingtastic. Unreal. Plus, the guacamole here is not only cheap, but ungodly delicious. It was, as I have decided I like to say, a mouthgasm. Quite tasty. Also, there was enough to create a double batch which means I’ve actually enjoyed two since their creation.
Oh, and we went to Les Mis. I guess Wednesday was quite awesome really.
Well, that’s pretty much it for those three days, sans a trip to Holland Park you’ll be reading about soon (if you know what’s good for you).
Quote from Jenny to leave you with: In reference to some jewelry, “I can’t wear that cheap shit.”
*this is Pret A Manger. It is the most cost effective on a graph of cheapness and deliciousness. Plus, they’re everywhere…EVERYWHERE!
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