It seems all that tuition money was well-spent

So, I'm watching Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I enjoy Indiana Jones because it reassures me that I am not the worst archaeologist to ever exist. About 20 minutes in, I send the following IM to my parents:

"Have you noticed that in the classroom scene, the pot drawings are the wrong way round? They're British, not American. In the UK we draw ceramics with the exterior on the right-hand side and the interior on the left, and in America it's exterior on the left and interior on the right. His pot drawings are clearly British. I think the set designers picked up a reference book from the wrong country."

A full semester of archaeological illustration, and I may not be able to get a job doing it, but by God I can nitpick movies. Go me.

I'm not homeless next month!

So the realtor just e-mailed and said that the landlords have everything sorted out on their end and would I still like to move in on September 1st, which I'm pretty sure means that I got the room. Excellent. Once I am allowed to move in I will post pictures on the locked journal, because I suspect this is the nicest room I will have for a long time, and it's certainly nicer than my room at home. I should add that the landlady referred to the room I wanted as "the orange room," which would have totally put me off if I hadn't seen it first.

There is no internet in the room. I'll have to get it installed. Also, the university doesn't kick me out until September 19th, and I am still working on the dissertation and have all my gigantic, heavy library books up here. So the plan is that I will cook and sleep down there, and work on the dissertation up here during the day. I keep nonperishable food up here, which I can just have for lunch, and I can make breakfast and dinner down there and that should cut my food bills by a lot, because, well, food you don't have to cook is expensive. Also, the bed down there is a double, and the one up here is a twin. I don't care for twin beds anymore because you can't put books in the empty space next to you. Also, the lightbulb in the nearest WC has been burned out for five days now and I am just so over university accomodation.

So that is the deal right now. I have somewhere to go before the university kicks me out. I am also about 1/3 of the way through the writing part of the dissertation. The job is still a problem. I'm applying for a full-time temporary job at the moment, but I actually really hope I don't get it, because it's basically on the other end of the country and now is not a good time to be moving around, but since I can apply for it without violating the terms of my student visa, I may as well do it for interview practice. I'm actually planning on just trying to get a part-time job at one of the bookstores around here in late September or early October when they need extra help before Christmas. So hopefully that will also work out.

I haven't heard anything further about my aunt. I'm worried.

One problem down, two remaining.

So I think I have found myself an apartment. Actually, it's a room in a houseshare. Which was hugely concerning to me for various reasons. I had initially found a studio apartment near the university, but when I went to actually look at it it was on the ground floor, and had two exterior doors that were mostly glass, which was terrifying, as well as having an enormous water stain on the ceiling. And then I spoke to them about it and the tenant isn't leaving until October, which clearly isn't going to do. And all the other self-contained apartments I found were much too expensive, so that was over before it even began.

So I started looking at houseshares. And houseshares are hugely worrying to me for a lot of reasons, but mostly because you don't get to pick your roommates, and I could end up with a houseful of party types who bring their drunk friends home every other night, and obviously I would have no choice but to kill them all and bury their bodies in the basement, or break my contract and move into one of the abandoned houses in the woods. But I can't afford self-contained apartments, apparently, and I have to have somewhere to live, at least until I get my work visa and can find a real job and maybe move to a smaller town. So I made an appointment for yesterday to look at the most promising houseshare, which said that it was cleaned every week by a professional. At least, I thought to myself, if my housemates spend all weekend puking in the shower, I won't have to be the one to clean it up.

So I met with the realtor yesterday to see the house, and oh my goodness, it's gorgeous. Hardwood floors and a newly remodelled kitchen and a Jacuzzi tub. And the room I would be renting has stained glass windows and an amazing view of the city. Basically, the realtor walked me through it, and I said "I would like to go back to your office right this minute and begin the application process." So all that was left before I can apply was to meet with the landlady and see if she approves of me, which is what I did today.

The situation is totally perfect for me. Apparently the landlady is very particular about meeting with her tenants before letting them apply because she is looking specifically for quiet people who can follow the house rules like doing washing up immediately and keeping things put away. She said that she was very clear to all her tenants about this not being a party house (which was a concern I had voiced, because drinking is such a cultural thing here), and given how nicely it's maintained, it obviously isn't. The atmosphere is supposed to be quiet - people can go out drinking, but they cannot bring drunk friends home or anything like that. She approves of me, obviously, so I've started the application process and hopefully I should get the room.

Now, I just have to worry about the dissertation and finding myself a part-time job.

Why hello there, life suckage.

I'm not doing too well. Besides the thing with my aunt, which I am mostly watching helplessly as people send me updates over Skype, I am trying to find a job and an apartment while I write my dissertation. It's not going well.

Oh, I do have appointments for apartment viewings lined up. But they all want four or five references and I just don't have the ability to give them references from my current employer or landlord, because I don't have either of those. So I'm going to have to ask them if they'll take references from the school and from my parents' employers (my parents did offer; they don't want me moving home any more than I want to move home) but that just doesn't make me look good.

And a job. Oh my God. I cannot find a job that pays me enough to live on and doesn't violate the terms of my visa. The problem is that I can't be in a permanent position while I'm on a student visa; it has to be a temporary one, and there just aren't that many of those. And even though I am quite happy to work in a bookstore or whatever, or just work two or three part-time jobs for a few months until I have my visa changed and can have a permanent position, the economy is so bad with all the store closures that no one is hiring. This is not good; I can't afford to stay here if I can't mostly support myself. There are some temp agencies that I will try as a last resort, but I don't know how steady an income I will be able to get if I do that.

So...this is all very worrying. I have seriously considered giving up and moving home. It would make sense - the decision to stay in England is a stupid one in a lot of ways. There are so many ways it could go horribly wrong, because immigration here, while not as soul-crushingly awful as in America, is extremely difficult. But, ultimately, I know that if I give up and move home, I will spend all my time regretting it and trying to think of ways to get back here, and at that point it will be even more expensive and impossible. So, even though it feels expensive and impossible now, this is the easiest it will ever be, so I may as well stay and struggle through. I can't help but wish I weren't trying to write a dissertation and worry about a family member at the same time, though.

I don't know what to call this

My dad just forwarded me a horrible e-mail. It said, in essence, that my aunt (my dad's sister), who has had Lou Gehrig's disease for more than ten years, is probably going to die. Evidently, the rough estimate is that she has approximately two weeks left, probably less.

It's not a surprise, really. My parents made sure to take me to see her last September before I left, and they told me then that they were doing it because they didn't think she would be around very much longer, and they didn't know when I would be coming back again. And she has been getting worse all year - my parents send me updates, and her health has just been spiraling downwards.

It's just that I feel so horribly, horribly guilty, and so helpless. Helpless because I'm over here and I can't get over there, and it's the first time I've really resented it. And because - what am I supposed to do? Should I e-mail her? What would I say? "I'm sorry you've been in hell for the past ten years, I'm sorry I could only talk to you once or twice a year, I'm sorry it hurts, I'm sorry you're dying"? It isn't like when my grandparents and great-grandfather died - by the time they died they were so far gone it was a relief for them. They were so sick they weren't aware. She is. She's in pain and on drugs and her body has turned to crap and she can only communicate by wiggling her eyebrows but she's still all there and completely aware. She must be terrified. What do you say? Do you say anything? I don't know. I wish someone could tell me what to do. I wish I could know that in ten years I won't still feel guilty for whatever I decide to do right now.

And I feel so guilty already, like I've already blown it. Because I knew when I came over here that she was probably going to die, but I was so preoccupied with feeling stupid and terrified and trying to keep up with everyone else and not lose my mind that I hardly e-mailed. I did, a couple of times. But I could have done more. I should have. And once you get an e-mail saying someone is dying it's impossible to think of things to say to them. It seems completely idiotic to talk about what I normally would, yammer on and on about my dissertation and my visa and my life when the person I'm saying it to is going to die. But what else do you talk about? You can't talk about them either.

I don't know what to do.

Technical Difficulties

The laptop I brought to England was never particularly good. My parents got it for me as an emergency backup when I was still at USC and had the desktop as a primary computer, and it was only supposed to be good enough to take notes in class and play movies to entertain me when I was trying to draw (why yes, I am horribly spoiled, why do you ask?) If I had needed a new laptop to be my primary computer, they would have gotten me a better one, but this one was never supposed to be more than a glorified typewriter.

Then, this whole England thing happened. They didn't really see it coming. Neither did I. But I couldn't bring the desktop, and my other laptop is 6 years old and was starting to show signs of computer senility about three years ago (my parents brought it over in December, to be an emergency backup in case this one died, but I'm kind of afraid to turn it on at this point). So I brought this one and I'm stuck with it, and it's beginning to act eccentic, which is never a good sign when you have a dissertation to write.

I keep Skyping my dad to beg for help, because the laptop only has half a gig of RAM, and playing music while running Word is at the very limit of its capabilities, and it's beginning to develop bizarre issues, like its recent refusal to insert more than one image into any given Word document (images are slightly crucial to my dissertation) and its inability to work with the software for my printer. (Also because I have a degree in art and I'm finishing up a degree in archaeology, so clearly computers were never my top priority.) And I have to give him credit. All his answers have been helpful, like "Why don't you try reinstalling Word, and installing Open Office if that doesn't work, and how about seeing if the computer stores in town have a scanner you can buy for under 50 pounds so you can at least grab all the images you need for your dissertation?"

As a totally random aside, he has done a good job of educating me about computers against my will. Last September he handed me a box and said, "NewEgg was having a sale on DVD burners. I got you a new one. Go install it in your desktop." And I did, because I knew how to, because he had made me build my desktop from parts he gave me, and I knew how to hook a DVD drive up. I was actually vaguely creeped out by the whole experience. I suspect, however, that if I ever get my desktop over here, he will amuse himself by giving me upgraded hardware "only if you can install it yourself," so it's good that I actually learned. He is, much like my mother, secretly evil.

Anyway. I feel it would be well within his rights for him to exclaim "Hey! I wrote both my master's and PhD dissertations on a typewriter! And I didn't like it, as a matter of fact, but by golly you can use the school's computers and stop whining to me about how you can't play music and run Word at the same time!" I am, in fact, very fortunate to be the offspring of a man who thinks that the perfect afternoon is an afternoon spent trying to reconfigure an obstinate hard drive to run with his operating system (as this is what he spent yesterday doing.) Still, I think I'm going to ask for a new laptop for my birthday in two months.

Seasonal Affective Disorder, Part 2

Look, I'm trying to write a dissertation here, and it's driving me a little bit crazy. I need to be able to go for walks at night without running into anyone. Please understand that, after sunset, the forest is mine to run around in, and I don't want to encounter anyone, especially anyone who is going to talk to me, because I really don't like that. I don't know why you're riding a bike in there when there's a foot of mud, and I especially don't know why you're hitting on me in the middle of the woods at night, because that is a really special level of creepy right there. Just go away. Please. You can come back when it's light out.

Also, if I see any more large black dogs running around in the woods at night, I'm confiscating them and keeping them (I've only wanted a dog for, oh, MY ENTIRE LIFE, and I've wanted a large black one for two years or so, ever since NephthysWrath told me about Big Black Dog Syndrome). You people are taunting me and it isn't nice.

Teeth, Part 3

As I avoid writing up an entry on the vacation (it was great, but it's going to take forever) I just have to share this one thing. My parents are coming out in September to "help me move" (which will apparently take 12 days - evidently we will be carrying individual socks along the city streets to wherever my new place is) and I wasn't sure if they were also going to come out for Christmas again, meaning that I will have to think of something to do about my driver's license, which expires in January. This afternoon, however, my mother Skyped me to do two things - demand that I send her Stephen Fry In America (it's not out there yet? What are you people doing over there?) and also to inform me that I have a dentist appointment on December 23rd. Apparently, the fact that I have not seen a dentist in 10 months is making her agitated. (She used to make me go every three months when I had braces.)

Yes, I am going back to the States just to get my teeth cleaned. And maybe do some things of lesser importance, like deal with my driver's license, celebrate Christmas, see NephthysWrath, and pry some of the books my dad has claimed away from him. But mostly, I'm getting my teeth cleaned.