A couple of weeks ago, I sent my parents a list of things to bring me from America. This evening, just a few minutes ago, I got the following messages, which I swear I have not altered, except to change our names and add one clarifying note.
[12:33:21 AM] Dad says: We just took a quick look for the Damon Runyon books, and didn't see them.. Do you know where they are?
[12:34:18 AM] Dad says: Also, this is the list 'o stuff - Are we missing anything?
(Ed. note: Antares' Original List, With No Alterations)
Contact lens fluid (Optifree if possible)
Earplugs
Aleve
Sudafed
Skippy creamy peanut butter
Fluff
Taco seasoning
Reese's cups
(if you have time for this) a pair of cheap sneakers from payless, size 9 and a half.
you already have socks and underwear
Damon Runyon books (exercise room, bookshelf closest to the computer.)
[12:48:33 AM] Antares says: yes...the Damon Runyon books are in the exercise room. on the bookshelf closest to the computer.
[12:49:30 AM] Antares says: i think that list is complete.
[12:49:51 AM] Dad says: Good, we'll look for the books.
I spoke plain English in my original list. You all saw that, right?
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
No, I'm still alive. Seriously. You checked 5 minutes ago.
My parents have IMed me on Skype pretty much every single day since I got here. They ask me how the weather is and what I'm having to eat today, just to make sure I answer. It got really old really fast. This week I didn't really answer them much, and they got agitated. I'm really confused for several reasons:
1) I'm 24. If I can't take care of myself by now, I pretty much deserve to get run over by a bus or die of gangrene caused by not doing my laundry or whatever else they think is going to happen to me.
2) I'm seeing them in a few days. This really should cause a relaxation of their apparent "Ask Antares what she's eating for dinner and confirm she's still alive" policy. They can come check for themselves.
3) I used to e-mail them every day when I was at school in California. They didn't like it much (that's what they said, anyway) so I stopped doing it when I came here, and now they freak out if they don't hear from me for two days. I guess they considered California to be relatively benign.
4) Are they doing this because England is a foreign country? Seriously? The only country I can think of that might be less scary for me to go to school in is Canada. Maybe. Really, people, England is civilized. You can drink the water over here and everything. Frankly, California was scarier by several orders of magnitude. There was a carjacking at a stoplight about 50 feet from my apartment, students used to get mugged every night, gunshots and screams from the alleys on my street were not an unusual occurrence. I did not share any of this with my parents at the time, of course, because I am not an idiot. Maybe I should have.
I really, really hope that they will come here, spend the week, realize that England is not crawling with land sharks and suicide bombers, and go away and Skype me once a week.
My favorite part of all this obnoxiousness is the fact that, if you ask them, they will proudly declare that they are not Helicopter Parents. No, indeed. Judging by this past semester, I think it's only because they can't afford to come visit David and me every week.
1) I'm 24. If I can't take care of myself by now, I pretty much deserve to get run over by a bus or die of gangrene caused by not doing my laundry or whatever else they think is going to happen to me.
2) I'm seeing them in a few days. This really should cause a relaxation of their apparent "Ask Antares what she's eating for dinner and confirm she's still alive" policy. They can come check for themselves.
3) I used to e-mail them every day when I was at school in California. They didn't like it much (that's what they said, anyway) so I stopped doing it when I came here, and now they freak out if they don't hear from me for two days. I guess they considered California to be relatively benign.
4) Are they doing this because England is a foreign country? Seriously? The only country I can think of that might be less scary for me to go to school in is Canada. Maybe. Really, people, England is civilized. You can drink the water over here and everything. Frankly, California was scarier by several orders of magnitude. There was a carjacking at a stoplight about 50 feet from my apartment, students used to get mugged every night, gunshots and screams from the alleys on my street were not an unusual occurrence. I did not share any of this with my parents at the time, of course, because I am not an idiot. Maybe I should have.
I really, really hope that they will come here, spend the week, realize that England is not crawling with land sharks and suicide bombers, and go away and Skype me once a week.
My favorite part of all this obnoxiousness is the fact that, if you ask them, they will proudly declare that they are not Helicopter Parents. No, indeed. Judging by this past semester, I think it's only because they can't afford to come visit David and me every week.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Staying at school over the holidays = not cool
It's now winter break, and all the food places on campus are closed. The only thing open was the cafe by my dorm, and it wasn't selling sandwiches today, just coffee and freetrade chocolate. I'm used to just buying a sandwich or something when I get hungry, so I only keep snacks in my room (cereal, NutriGrain bars, oranges). I went into town for the day so there would be food around when I got hungry.
I spent most of the day trying to keep myself occupied - if I just went into town and bought hot food and went back to campus, it would get all cold and gross by the time I felt like eating it. (This is what happens to you when you spend two months only buying food when you get hungry - the idea of planning ahead is bizarre and perplexing.) So I hung around until dinnertime.
First, I learned that it is impossible to get lost. I decided I would wander around, even though it was light out and I am a night wanderer, so I walked to a section of the city I hadn't been to yet, but I kept reemerging in familiar areas. That only killed off about 2 hours.
Then, I thought I would go to the cathedral and do some sketches of the exterior sculptures to use in my drawings later. I learned that if you are close enough to see the details, there is nowhere to sit, and if you move back to the wall, you can't see well enough to draw anything. I am sitting on the wall riffling through my sketchbook and sulking, when something hits me in the middle of the back. I have been befriended by a tabby cat, which is now annoyed that I am not paying attention to it. I had no idea the cathedral area had a cat. My dorm area does, a tuxedo cat with a neon yellow collar, but that one isn't quite so insistent.
About 3 hours in, I get bored and wander into Primark, where I find a bra in my size. This is a minor miracle, as I am a 34E and usually have to settle for 36DDs.
After 4 hours of struggling through the crowds, I decide I have had enough and buy a sandwich from a street vendor and head back to school. On the way back I remember that today is my mother's birthday.
I spent most of the day trying to keep myself occupied - if I just went into town and bought hot food and went back to campus, it would get all cold and gross by the time I felt like eating it. (This is what happens to you when you spend two months only buying food when you get hungry - the idea of planning ahead is bizarre and perplexing.) So I hung around until dinnertime.
First, I learned that it is impossible to get lost. I decided I would wander around, even though it was light out and I am a night wanderer, so I walked to a section of the city I hadn't been to yet, but I kept reemerging in familiar areas. That only killed off about 2 hours.
Then, I thought I would go to the cathedral and do some sketches of the exterior sculptures to use in my drawings later. I learned that if you are close enough to see the details, there is nowhere to sit, and if you move back to the wall, you can't see well enough to draw anything. I am sitting on the wall riffling through my sketchbook and sulking, when something hits me in the middle of the back. I have been befriended by a tabby cat, which is now annoyed that I am not paying attention to it. I had no idea the cathedral area had a cat. My dorm area does, a tuxedo cat with a neon yellow collar, but that one isn't quite so insistent.
About 3 hours in, I get bored and wander into Primark, where I find a bra in my size. This is a minor miracle, as I am a 34E and usually have to settle for 36DDs.
After 4 hours of struggling through the crowds, I decide I have had enough and buy a sandwich from a street vendor and head back to school. On the way back I remember that today is my mother's birthday.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Help! People notice me!
I was under the impression that I've been flying under everyone's radar (which, yes, is a very bad thing to do when I think I need letters of recommendation not only to go on to another program, but to give to the immigration people so I don't get sent back to America in September.) This week, I discovered that my Egyptology professor knows my name and background. I was completely disturbed. I don't think I've said more than three or four sentences to him the entire term, and I figured he didn't know who I was, because I'm used to non-art professors not giving a flying fuck who you are if you don't go to office hours every week and make a nuisance of yourself. But I had to go to his office hours on Monday because of this awful assignment, and he already knew who I was and started talking to me about my art background, and today I discovered that he's been marking me present every day even when he doesn't pass the attendance sheet around. So, now I'm wondering if they actually read all our files, or if our tutors warn people we take classes from. "Watch this one. It escaped from an art program."
It did get me an A on his midterm, which soothed my poor bruised perfectionist ego after those two B's. Apparently, being able to long-windedly explain your interpretation of Egyptian art is almost as good as actually knowing what the hell you're talking about in the first place, which I don't.
It did get me an A on his midterm, which soothed my poor bruised perfectionist ego after those two B's. Apparently, being able to long-windedly explain your interpretation of Egyptian art is almost as good as actually knowing what the hell you're talking about in the first place, which I don't.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The Parts I Leave Out When I IM My Parents
"There's a lighted Christmas tree on top of the tallest building in the school"...and I use it to keep track of where the campus is when I go wandering alone at night.
"I didn't get to the downtown library today"...the street was blocked off because of the bomb scare.
"Yes, it's okay if David stays here with me so you don't have to get two hotel rooms"...even though he's now the sort of person I would never speak to if I didn't have the misfortune of being related to him.
"Grandpa sent me a birthday check, so I went into town today to send him a thank-you note"...and I used the money to buy the British Harry Potter books.
"Yes, I am trying to figure out a specialty so I can pick a thesis topic"...when I can tear myself away from the paleopathology textbooks.
"I'm thinking of getting my visa status changed and getting a job here next year"...because I'll miss you, and I'll miss NephthysWrath, but I don't care if I never see America again.
"I didn't get to the downtown library today"...the street was blocked off because of the bomb scare.
"Yes, it's okay if David stays here with me so you don't have to get two hotel rooms"...even though he's now the sort of person I would never speak to if I didn't have the misfortune of being related to him.
"Grandpa sent me a birthday check, so I went into town today to send him a thank-you note"...and I used the money to buy the British Harry Potter books.
"Yes, I am trying to figure out a specialty so I can pick a thesis topic"...when I can tear myself away from the paleopathology textbooks.
"I'm thinking of getting my visa status changed and getting a job here next year"...because I'll miss you, and I'll miss NephthysWrath, but I don't care if I never see America again.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Dear Flatmates,
Please stop playing loud, horrible music and scuffing your feet up and down the hall. I am about ready to snap.
I realize it could be much worse; you could be like those people I lived with at USC who puked in the showers all weekend. But it's the last week of term and I'm tired, goddammit.
That is all.
I realize it could be much worse; you could be like those people I lived with at USC who puked in the showers all weekend. But it's the last week of term and I'm tired, goddammit.
That is all.
Wow.
...I was talking to one of my friends today about crummy assignments.
N: "...and I had to do a bunch of drawings of Mesopotamia for this one guy. Ha, his name was Professor Snape. He was kinda grumpy."
Me: "Well, can you blame him? I mean, I think I'd be pretty cranky."
Jeebus. If I were him, I'd have changed my name ten years ago. I have the horrifying idea that he's probably published under it, though.
N: "...and I had to do a bunch of drawings of Mesopotamia for this one guy. Ha, his name was Professor Snape. He was kinda grumpy."
Me: "Well, can you blame him? I mean, I think I'd be pretty cranky."
Jeebus. If I were him, I'd have changed my name ten years ago. I have the horrifying idea that he's probably published under it, though.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The suckiest week that ever sucked
Monday Morning: I go to my Romanization class. It's a seminar day; I am in the upper level. Only one other person shows up. The professor is unperturbed and proceeds to ask the two of us a lot of horrible questions about why Septimus Severus was going around sticking government buildings in tiny frontier towns. I leave after an hour feeling like I've been run over by a train and hating both Septimus Severus and my professor for ever existing.
Monday Afternoon: I get to my second class and am informed that the midterm I turned in weeks ago on a memory stick wouldn't open. I am skeptical because I have been having computer trouble, so I was extra careful to make sure this file worked before turning it in. I take the memory stick to the library and the file opens fine on their computers. I take the memory stick home, open the file to make sure it is still working, and then e-mail the exact same file to the instructor. I am informed ten minutes later by e-mail that it worked fine. I spend all afternoon with the distinct impression that I am being jerked around.
Monday Night: I am sick all night and do not get to sleep (food poisoning).
Tuesday Morning: I get two of my other midterms back. I have B's on them. I don't know what pissed me off more - the fact that I got B's and I need A's to get into a PhD program, or the fact that, after walking into an advanced degree program knowing basically nothing about the subject and managing to pull B's on my midterms after only a month, I am angry at myself. I need slapping.
Tuesday Afternoon: My tutor sends out an agitated e-mail regarding next semester's courses. I am suddenly reminded that I forgot to sign up for next semester's courses. I race to the office in a panic and get the office assistant to register me for what I think are the right classes. I get home and find out that I got one wrong. I have to go back and get the office assistant to reregister me. I am sure that by the end of this exchange she was hoping I would get run over by a truck as soon as I stepped out of the building. To make things even better, there was an associated series of e-mails that were also sent to my tutor, so now he knows how stupid I am. I found him quite intimidating enough before this.
Wednesday: I gloom around all day. I go to a seminar, which sucks.
Wednesday Night: Someone is trying to microwave frozen bread in the dorm, and they set off the fire alarm at 11 pm. I was already asleep. I had washed my hair about three hours earlier and it was loose and damp. I have to drag myself out of bed, pull out my earplugs, find my glasses (I HATE WEARING GLASSES), stuff my feet into shoes, dig my coat out of the wardrobe, and go stand in the freezing cold for half an hour in my dorky pajamas with the owls on them and really spectacular bedhead. Not cool.
Thursday: My parents Skype me. My dad tells me that I will have to write better papers if I want to get into a PhD program. YES, THANK YOU, I HAD WORKED THAT OUT FOR MYSELF. Also, I discover that the hidden objects on my hard drive have been multiplying. (My computer has been infected for months now, and I can't fix it. I will have to reformat over break.)
Friday: I go to Egyptology and learn why sitting in the front row is not advisable. For our group project, the front row group is assigned a high priest, on whom there is absolutely no information to be had except for a couple of stelae. We have to write 7 pages about this person. I want to stab myself in the eye.
Friday Night: I drink and watch movies that contain my celebrity crush.
Saturday: I have to buy presents for my family. It is ridiculously difficult. Today, I learn that the city's high street is precisely lined up with the winter sun, so that if you are walking one way, you can see fine, but if you walk the other way, you are absolutely blinded. I am more photophobic than a rabid dog, but I walk around for two hours with my eyes watering and squinched shut before giving up and going home. On the plus side, despite how crowded the streets are, no one shoves me aside, which is what usually happens to me in America. I get home and find another white hair.
Next week had better not go this way.
Monday Afternoon: I get to my second class and am informed that the midterm I turned in weeks ago on a memory stick wouldn't open. I am skeptical because I have been having computer trouble, so I was extra careful to make sure this file worked before turning it in. I take the memory stick to the library and the file opens fine on their computers. I take the memory stick home, open the file to make sure it is still working, and then e-mail the exact same file to the instructor. I am informed ten minutes later by e-mail that it worked fine. I spend all afternoon with the distinct impression that I am being jerked around.
Monday Night: I am sick all night and do not get to sleep (food poisoning).
Tuesday Morning: I get two of my other midterms back. I have B's on them. I don't know what pissed me off more - the fact that I got B's and I need A's to get into a PhD program, or the fact that, after walking into an advanced degree program knowing basically nothing about the subject and managing to pull B's on my midterms after only a month, I am angry at myself. I need slapping.
Tuesday Afternoon: My tutor sends out an agitated e-mail regarding next semester's courses. I am suddenly reminded that I forgot to sign up for next semester's courses. I race to the office in a panic and get the office assistant to register me for what I think are the right classes. I get home and find out that I got one wrong. I have to go back and get the office assistant to reregister me. I am sure that by the end of this exchange she was hoping I would get run over by a truck as soon as I stepped out of the building. To make things even better, there was an associated series of e-mails that were also sent to my tutor, so now he knows how stupid I am. I found him quite intimidating enough before this.
Wednesday: I gloom around all day. I go to a seminar, which sucks.
Wednesday Night: Someone is trying to microwave frozen bread in the dorm, and they set off the fire alarm at 11 pm. I was already asleep. I had washed my hair about three hours earlier and it was loose and damp. I have to drag myself out of bed, pull out my earplugs, find my glasses (I HATE WEARING GLASSES), stuff my feet into shoes, dig my coat out of the wardrobe, and go stand in the freezing cold for half an hour in my dorky pajamas with the owls on them and really spectacular bedhead. Not cool.
Thursday: My parents Skype me. My dad tells me that I will have to write better papers if I want to get into a PhD program. YES, THANK YOU, I HAD WORKED THAT OUT FOR MYSELF. Also, I discover that the hidden objects on my hard drive have been multiplying. (My computer has been infected for months now, and I can't fix it. I will have to reformat over break.)
Friday: I go to Egyptology and learn why sitting in the front row is not advisable. For our group project, the front row group is assigned a high priest, on whom there is absolutely no information to be had except for a couple of stelae. We have to write 7 pages about this person. I want to stab myself in the eye.
Friday Night: I drink and watch movies that contain my celebrity crush.
Saturday: I have to buy presents for my family. It is ridiculously difficult. Today, I learn that the city's high street is precisely lined up with the winter sun, so that if you are walking one way, you can see fine, but if you walk the other way, you are absolutely blinded. I am more photophobic than a rabid dog, but I walk around for two hours with my eyes watering and squinched shut before giving up and going home. On the plus side, despite how crowded the streets are, no one shoves me aside, which is what usually happens to me in America. I get home and find another white hair.
Next week had better not go this way.
Friday, December 5, 2008
The internet makes people stupid
My family is visiting me in England for Christmas. I have to keep David in my dorm room with me. That means my parents have to dig up one of my air mattresses and bring it with them. I have two - a single that will fit on my floor, and a self-inflating double that won't. They are pretty impossible to confuse, given that one is very large and comes with a pump, and the other is very small and does not. My parents know this, as they have used the air mattresses before.
My dad came on Skype this evening and said "I found an air mattress. How do I tell if it's the single or the double?" The man has an IQ of 180ish.
I wanted to shut my head repeatedly in the wardrobe door.
My dad came on Skype this evening and said "I found an air mattress. How do I tell if it's the single or the double?" The man has an IQ of 180ish.
I wanted to shut my head repeatedly in the wardrobe door.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
I can't feel my face!
The good part? I can walk around in the dark by myself all I want. (I mean, technically no one was stopping me in LA either, except the fact that my neighborhood was like a war zone and I am a solitary female.) I love walking around in the dark by myself. Not being able to do it in LA or at home in NJ was making me crazy. And it gets dark early here.
The bad part? Jesus H Christ on a pogo stick, it's cold out there at night.
Totally unrelated: I bought another book today. I'm beginning to think I might have some sort of hereditary susceptibility to the gravitational field of bookstores. I wonder if I walk crookedly down the street as I come under their influence.
The bad part? Jesus H Christ on a pogo stick, it's cold out there at night.
Totally unrelated: I bought another book today. I'm beginning to think I might have some sort of hereditary susceptibility to the gravitational field of bookstores. I wonder if I walk crookedly down the street as I come under their influence.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Return of the Book Man
I've been having a terrible week. I won't go into specifics right now because I just don't have the energy, but it's really been bad. Normally, when I am having a terrible time, I buy books. (I buy books all the time, of course, but especially when I'm having a terrible time.) I managed to avoid the campus Blackwell's, but I took a shortcut through the student guild hall and the Book Man was there again. I gave in to the inevitable, wandered around a bit, and chose a medieval history book (I came to the conclusion about a week ago that I will probably end up in Medieval Studies, and I should stop fighting it with Egyptology classes). I bought that, figuring at least it was cheaper than a new book, and the Book Man said to me, "You were the one that bought that big book on William the Conqueror a few weeks ago, aren't you? Are you enjoying it?"
And I was rather freaked out. For a brief moment I had the impression that no one else could see the Book Man, and he was sent here specifically to lead me straight into temptation, to the point where I will be unable to drag my suitcases down the stairs when I go. But then I realized that students eyeing the books for 20 minutes or more with expressions of conflicted desperation are probably not that normal.
Current book count: 38.
And I was rather freaked out. For a brief moment I had the impression that no one else could see the Book Man, and he was sent here specifically to lead me straight into temptation, to the point where I will be unable to drag my suitcases down the stairs when I go. But then I realized that students eyeing the books for 20 minutes or more with expressions of conflicted desperation are probably not that normal.
Current book count: 38.
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