tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15048874870824102752024-02-19T07:54:45.469+00:00Alpha Canis Majorart, archaeology, astronomy, books, caffeine, dogs, England, hair, history, languages, movies, paleopathology, running, sarcasm, spinsterhoodAntareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-14178508213700792932010-03-30T10:53:00.002+01:002010-03-30T11:07:49.935+01:00Tattoo<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So, in about two hours, I'm getting my first tattoo. I've wanted one for at least 6 years, but I either never had the money to get the one I designed, which I wanted to get first, or I didn't have a place to go to get it. But I remember deciding years ago that I was going to get it when I finished my BFA - which was nearly 3 years ago. This is getting ridiculous, I've just gotten my MA, I'll get one of the smaller ones I want. It's cheap enough that I can afford it, and the bigger one can wait until I have a job.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I never have just one reason for doing anything, because I am one of those people who sits down and thinks through every single pro and con before deciding to do something, so I can't tell you exactly why I have been so hellbent on getting tattooed. And this was a relatively impulsive decision for me - I mean, the tattoo I'm getting is one of the ones I've wanted for years (all my tattoo ideas are based on books that were important to me, but that is a ridiculously long post for when I don't have to leave in an hour and a half) but about a week ago I said, "You know, this is getting absurd, and I should just get one priced and see what I can do about that." And I did so. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">The major reason, I guess, is that as time drags on and I can't find anywhere to work, I have to face the possibility that I can't, in fact, pull this off, and I will have to give everything up and leave England. The idea makes me sick, but I think it would help, just a little, if I got tattooed here before I get hauled back to the States. So there's that.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Obviously, pictures will go on the other blog - but only after it heals, because ew. So give that a week or so. I'm getting the Latin word "et" in insular script on my shoulder. Basically, I'm getting a trendy ampersand tattoo, even though that's not what I set out to do. Feel free to judge me.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-57498277849348026572010-03-28T16:06:00.002+01:002010-03-28T16:13:57.708+01:00Easter<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">My last IM update to my parents went something like this:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">*update on jobs I have applied for*</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">*update on museum association application*</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">*update on organizations I'm planning to send letters of intent to*</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">*pathetic plea for jellybeans*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I can't buy jellybeans here. No one will sell them to me. The thing is, I didn't even particularly like jellybeans before I came here, except for the black ones, because I have some sort of terrible licorice addiction. But it's my second Easter here, and I'm beginning to miss jellybeans, even the ones I never particularly liked, like the pink ones and the white ones. All I can find here is chocolate. I can't even find Peeps, which I don't care about, but get back to me next year if I'm still here. Last summer NephthysWrath, who knows I have issues with black jellybeans, brought me two bags of black jellybeans when she came to visit. That was awesome. But now I am so desperate for jellybeans that I think I might even be okay with my parents sending me a bag of white ones. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I can't even speak of the Almond Joys.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-38732012867795885532010-03-23T18:03:00.003+00:002010-03-23T18:47:55.278+00:00"Your children are where?"<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">What? It's only been a month. I think I was planning to talk about what my family thinks of me staying here, so, here we go.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Sending your kid to school in Europe makes you look really good, especially if it's grad school. When I was still in school, people would ask my parents what their kids were doing, and they would say "Oh, one's in school in California and the other's in school in England," and people would find that interesting and tell them how lucky they were to have ambitious, hard-working kids.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">It seems, however, that once you finish school in Europe, you're supposed to say "Well, thank goodness I can go back to the States now; I certainly miss fountain sodas and Wal-Mart and my extended family," and go home without any argument. Apparently, you aren't supposed to say "No! I'm not going back! I like it better here! You can't make me leave!" and begin applying for residence permits. Now, it seems, people ask my parents what I'm doing, and they say "She's decided to stay in England and look for jobs," and people totally look at them funny.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">It gets worse for them when you add in David, who's staying in California for another year to do a Master's. Now they have to say, "Well, our son is in school in California and our daughter lives in England," and people start eyeballing them, as though they had said "We kept our children chained in our basement for 18 years, and one day we accidentally left the door open, and they fled in opposite directions and we haven't been able to recapture them." I'm no longer increasing their social status, I'm making people think they're weird. I have to admit, David and I find all this hilarious, which is probably not nice of us.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">The other thing is, my mother suddenly has empty-nest syndrome. It's just peculiar. When I moved back home for a year so I could work on scamming an archaeology program into admitting me, she was very displeased. Then, when I got accepted, she did most of my immigration paperwork so she could be sure I was actually leaving. I'm not saying there was actually a foot on my ass at that point, but she had at least metaphorically tossed my suitcases onto the sidewalk. And I clearly remember that when David and I were both at USC she was really happy about us having finally moved the hell out. And then I get home two months ago and she's started scrapbooking, and keeps trying to talk me into considering moving back to the States, without saying anything directly (for example, I'll ask if they can bring me Almond Joys the next time they visit, and she'll say "so you miss those! But not enough to move back?"). I don't know what happened. A few weeks ago she actually said, "Maybe I should have had a third child! Maybe that one would have stayed with me!" as though she wouldn't have run out of patience and shipped the hypothetical third child off to college in Australia by now.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So, to summarize - I've stopped making my parents look good, and now they just look weird, and also, they miss me. To their credit, they've been amazing about the whole thing. I certainly gave them plenty of warning, but I don't think they believed I really meant to do this until I started that struggle with my latest visa application that lasted for several weeks. They miss me, but they still visit all the UK job sites and send me job leads, and fund my Museum Association membership, and edit my CV for me so I can find a job and stay here and continue to cause them to get looked at funny. They rule.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-20079752583108590662010-02-19T15:33:00.002+00:002010-02-19T15:43:00.793+00:00Ancient Egyptian Kitchen Curse<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So, I'm back in England. And I did have other things to write about, but first I have to share this.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">On Tuesday evening I went down to the kitchen to make dinner. I had leftover pasta sauce from Monday, so I was just boiling water to make more pasta. I hadn't bothered to put my hair up that day (jetlag is so much fun) and we have a gas stove. You see where this is going, right? I thought there was something floating in the pot and was leaning over to investigate with a spoon. "Hmm," I said to myself, "this is maybe not a good idea. I hope I don't set my hair on fire - oh bugger."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">It's waist-length again now.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So the next day, I went down to make paella. I put my (shorter) hair up first, because I do learn. But then I was rummaging through the bottom cupboard where we keep all the pots, pans, and baking dishes, and a stack of them overbalanced and one of the glass baking pans fell six inches onto the linoleum and shattered into approximately six billion pieces. I don't even understand how that happened. I could understand if it cracked, yes, or maybe even broke into a few pieces, although it wasn't a particularly hard fall, but the darn thing exploded. Cleaning that up was certainly fun. And I've just been reheating the paella since then (it did turn out well) but I've almost finished it, and I'm afraid to cook anything else.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-4186747377503901562010-02-09T04:16:00.002+00:002010-02-09T04:23:30.888+00:00That Family<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So I had four seals replaced on my molars today (G: "This is very pleasant. Normally I do this procedure on 6-year-olds, and they cry") and, on our way out, my mother wanted to stop and make an appointment for David in July. (Did I mention that she had to keep making and canceling appointments for me all through November and December? Like, four in all? Because she did. Heaven forbid her kids get home and don't have dentist appointments waiting for them.) Anyway, as we (read: my mother, with minimal participation from me) were chatting with the receptionist and everyone else who kept wandering by, because we know every single damn person in that office, I read the appointment book upside-down. The receptionist only wrote "David" and a phone number. There was no need for a last name, because they all know exactly what family they're dealing with.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Yes, I did tease my mother about that the entire way home.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-9389161551630081192010-02-04T03:47:00.002+00:002010-02-04T04:14:46.016+00:00Teeth, again<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So today I finally had a dentist appointment, after nearly two years without one. My mother was practically breaking out in hives, especially since this morning I did what was, in hindsight, probably a very bad thing, and announced that I had a black spot in the crease of one molar. Black spots are bad. In England I read paleopathology textbooks for fun, and they spend a lot of time on teeth, so I theoretically know how to diagnose cavities, from the tiny white "might become a cavity someday" spots, to the giant two-inch holes involving four teeth and the jawbone and a sinus dripping pus down someone's neck (the days before modern dentistry were bad ones, you guys.) Also, I still have that issue I talked about over a year ago with the gum over one of my canines being totally painful for no reason at all except, apparently, to give my mom ulcers, and I have all these spots near my gumline where the enamel just looks funny, and I found out this morning that my area of England does not put fluoride in their water, so my mother was totally convinced that my teeth were rotting out of my head, and my dentist was going to have to remove them all and give me dentures. And I have this ongoing issue with potential periodontal disease that actually really freaks me out, so I keep asking my dentist about it anyway, to his complete annoyance, I'm sure.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I got my favorite hygienist, G, the one with a personality kind of like mine but with the rougher edges forcibly removed so that she can deal with the public without too much yelling. I like her because she is sarcastic and totally happy to discuss the genetic markers in the population that can cause periodontal disease, just to entertain me. So I ran down my nice long list of issues my mother wanted me to discuss (I have no insurance here anymore so she was paying full price for this,so by God we were going to look at EVERYTHING), and G said, "Well, it's been two years, but we'll just see about that." Meanwhile, my mother is in the waiting room climbing the walls (what, like she was going to stay at home? Please.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So I get my X-rays done (after I pry out all my earrings except the two that are never coming back out, and G, observing this, tells me to never pierce my tongue because there's a particular type of infection that can give me) and I have all the happy fun scraping and cleaning and poking my gums to see if the bone is dissolving (AUGH) and it all takes four times as long as you would think, because G is excruciatingly thorough and also remembers things (from two years ago) like how many foreign languages you're trying to learn and what you wanted to do your dissertation on, and keeps stopping to discuss this with you (meanwhile my mother is writhing in the waiting room because OMG THE BLACK SPOT.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So finally she gets done and, before she goes off to get my dentist to look at me, she says, basically, "There is nothing wrong with you. That black spot is a STAIN, you've had white teeth all your life and you think every stain is a cavity, sheesh. Your gums are sore because you had the IUD put in and your immune system is freaking out. You are an alarmist and a hypochondriac. Dr. W. will be in shortly." Actually, my mother is the alarmist, thank you so much. But I still don't have any cavities, so I'm okay with these accusations.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I don't have any cavities, but I'm still going back to the dentist on Monday. You see, the Black Spot of Anticlimax is in the crease of a molar, and all my molars used to be sealed, but the sealant has come off three of them, and that was one of them, and now it's stained. And there are stains in one of the others, and G said "keep an eye on those, they may become problematic." And I went out into the waiting room and told my mother this, after I relieved her agony by saying there were no cavities but G says I should think about getting those molars resealed at some point. And my mother, being my mother, said "YOU ARE NOT GOING BACK TO ENGLAND UNTIL WE SEAL THOSE. Back in the office. We're making another appointment." Splendid.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Also, my mother would like you all to know that she feels her paranoia is justified, because she has crowns, root canals, and a perio pocket now full of sand in her lower jaw, and we do share the same genetics. And I feel she has a point, because ew.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-28611467178718574682010-02-03T05:56:00.005+00:002010-02-03T06:16:47.512+00:00Heating Pad<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I have a whole series of posts about culture shock and how fun it is to travel around with my parents (AUGH) which I will post when I get around to posting them, but for now, here is a story.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">About three weeks ago, I had an IUD put in. I'm not dating anyone, nobody panic. I did it for a whole variety of rational reasons, including but not limited to:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">1) I was probably going to need a copper IUD at some point, because I can't have any hormonal birth control (I have enough problems controlling my depression without extra hormones floating around in there) and the only other options are the diaphragm or condoms, which I've always seen as being backup methods, or the rhythm method, which...well. I have nothing polite to say about that "method."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">2) I was still afraid, at that point, that I was going to get kicked out of England. If I have the NHS put in my IUD, it's free. I like free. So I decided I'd better get on that before I got my visa results back.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">3) My cousin is pregnant again, and is due in August. HER FIRST CHILD IS NOT EVEN A YEAR OLD YET WHAT THE HELL. Apparently she decided she had some extra sanity just lying around that she could afford to give up on mountains of diapers and never sleeping again, although I've never seen any evidence of her having any sanity to spare. I think my ever having children is a spectacularly bad idea and this just set off all my paranoia and anal-retentiveness, because GOOD GOD.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So now I have this IUD, and my uterus is very angry about it. I have never experienced cramps like this in my life and they've been going on for THREE WEEKS NOW. Even my Aleve is failing me. So last night I got home late, and I dug the heating pad out of the hall closet, and I considered it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">The thing about this heating pad is, it's really old. It still lives in its original box, which has an alarmingly retro design, not something you look for in an appliance that is plastered with warning labels designed to help you prevent it from electrocuting you or setting you on fire. Seriously, they're printed across the cover as well, which appears to be made of burlap, because this thing is old as hell. And the box is very clear about it only having a five-year warranty, and I know I used it in middle school when I was thirteen and it was old even then, because my parents are not enthusiastic about replacing appliances until they see actual sparks. But I had already had more Aleve than was probably advisable, and I had had cramps all evening, and I wanted some damn sleep, and it was way too late to go out and buy another heating pad, even though, strangely, all the shops in this country stay open later than 5 pm. So I plugged it in, and I switched it on, and I fell asleep on top of it despite all the dire warnings about how, if I did that, it would eat all the skin off my abdomen and I would never notice until it was too late.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">This morning I wandered downstairs, with all my abdominal skin still intact, and my mother was down there getting ready to go to work. "Mom," I asked, "how old is that heating pad in the hall closet?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "My mother bought it for me; I don't remember when."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Her mother has been dead since well before I was born. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So, since I didn't have a car today, I couldn't go out and get a heating pad that isn't in the final stages of cackling senility. I'm going to have to sleep with this one again tonight. It's starting to seem like a bad idea.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-5859060744611853612010-01-14T17:36:00.002+00:002010-01-14T17:56:37.156+00:00Well, that was sudden.<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So yesterday, my dad made flight reservations for me. I'm totally coming back to the States for two weeks. My parents are coming out next week for my graduation and staying a week, and then I'll come back with them (because going to a foreign country all by yourself is so scary, you know) and I'll hang out there for two weeks. Well, not so much hang out as run frantically around trying to accomplish a year and a half's worth of errands, but, you know. I'm really glad the visa came in so early, actually, because this means I can renew my driver's license before it expires on the 31st, and given what a bitch that was for me to get (I hate driving so, so much) I don't want to lose it, even though at this point it's really just a backup form of ID. And there are quite a few other things I need to do.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I actually had a totally weird reaction to this - I started to panic. Not that panicking is a weird reaction for me, but panicking about going home certainly is. At some point, it seems, my mental state did a total 180, and now I'm thinking of it as going back to the States for a visit and then going home to England. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I'm totally afraid to leave England</span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">. It's all very bizarre. I have to keep reminding myself that NephthysWrath is in the States, along with half my Connie Willis books and my favorite Rosencrantz and Guildenstern t-shirt and all kinds of stuff I left because I wasn't sure whether I would fail out of the program three months in, or decide I hated it here and move straight home afterwards. But I seem to have a death grip on England, so I'll be needing my copy of </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">The Winds of Marble Arch</span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Also, you know. There's decent sushi and tres leches cake over there, and people to visit. And I've been away for 16 months, which is a fairly long time. And my new visa totally says "Residence Permit" on the top, rather than "Entry Clearance," so I'm pretty sure they have to let me back in and I should stop freaking out about the whole thing.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-13091260009310503142010-01-11T11:45:00.002+00:002010-01-11T11:49:07.135+00:00Post-Study Work Visa!<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I have leave to remain until January 7th, 2012. I totally did the happy dance in the kitchen, even though I'm allergic to the happy dance. At least there were no witnesses. And then I actually teared up because I was so incredibly relieved.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-90122485032026492222010-01-10T13:33:00.002+00:002010-01-10T13:35:58.545+00:00I r smrt.<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">It's been a month, and I feel I should update. But my life is unbelievably boring. So I'll just tell you what happened to me a few minutes ago, the way I told NephthysWrath.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">DescartesAndroid (1:29:54 PM): so i was going through a drawer looking for paper and i sliced my pinkie open on a razor.</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">DescartesAndroid (1:30:45 PM): then, two minutes later, after i put a plaster on and everything, i went back in for an envelope and sliced open my index finger on the same razor.</span><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">DescartesAndroid (1:31:22 PM): in two weeks [prestigious university] wants to give me a master's degree. FOOLS.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Clearly, I still need supervision.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-57346954617071765352009-12-10T16:38:00.002+00:002009-12-10T16:42:33.270+00:00You know you want to keep me, England.<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So yesterday I sent my visa application to the Home Office (FINALLY OMG), and today I confirmed that they received it via the Royal Mail website. My immigration adviser told me that the turnaround time on these things is 6-10 weeks, but it's closer to 6 weeks at this time of year (presumably because most people want to keep their passports so they can go home for the holidays - excellent, this benefits me.) Now I just have to sit here for the next 6 weeks and worry until all my hair falls out. Don't make me go back to the States! I don't want to! Their chocolate is terrible and all their DVDs cost too much!</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-3155831375217552342009-12-06T15:59:00.001+00:002009-12-06T16:01:30.430+00:00"I suppose this is why I'm an archaeologist and not a prostitute."<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">NEVER SAY THIS TO YOUR MOTHER.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Even if 1.) she started it and; 2.) her version of the pre-college "talk" was "I'm only paying for </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">one</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"> abortion, so be careful."</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-43249227127790155702009-11-30T19:13:00.003+00:002009-11-30T19:30:58.567+00:00Still alive. Just BORED TO TEARS.<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >So, as it turns out, although I passed my Master's and I'm getting a degree in January (not that anyone but me was actually concerned, but I'm tired of apologizing for my neuroses) the university cannot release a letter to this effect until December 7th, and without this letter I cannot send out my visa application. Why can't they release this letter, even though I have passed and been approved by their committee and everything? I have absolutely no idea. England is full of random insanity like this. Unfortunately, I still have no job and am now even less likely to get one as my student visa is expiring in January, and that just doesn't look good on applications. I am bored to the point where I am considering doing things like crouching on top of the wardrobe and gnawing on my toenails. I don't think being out of school agrees with me. Also, I am broke and cannot entertain myself very well without classes to study for, although I do get free books and sometimes I break down and buy cheap DVDs.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Once I beat my way through the last of the arbitrary roadblocks and send off this damn application (I'm guessing that at some point it will become necessary for me to grab someone by the collar and scream directly into their face, as politeness is clearly not getting me far) it will be 6-10 weeks to process, rather than the 3 I was told before. This means I will not be going home for Christmas, as the government will have my passport. I am less than broken up about this. I fully expect my mother to contact me soon and try to coax a tearful admission that I wish I were going home for Christmas out of me, but I won't be able to oblige. I'm afraid the best I will be able to do is a sarcastic "Oh, yes, I'm </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >so upset</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >. You know how I hate the quiet and how terribly homesick I've been over the past 15 months, and how I've missed the US and its inferior chocolate." There will be a brief discussion about my teeth, and that will be the end of it. I did consider using "But I'm going to be all alone in a creepy house in a foreign country for Christmas!" on the university's registry department in an attempt to get my paperwork faster, because boredom and frustration have made me into a terrible person, but I refrained.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >So, that's it. I would like to update more often, but there is NOTHING HAPPENING and it's making me INSANE.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-2602812726322593282009-11-13T17:16:00.003+00:002009-11-13T17:25:21.073+00:00Progress is made<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Well, today that place I interviewed at actually called me back (FINALLY) and said they had hired someone who had actually done that exact job before, so at least I feel less like I totally blew my interview or something.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Also, my parents and NephthysWrath both said that, given that I was told I would have my official results by late October or early November, it was time to storm the castle, so I went up to the university and ran around demanding an explanation from people. But, apparently, if I come back next Friday they should be out, and I can get a printed copy rather than waiting for them to be mailed to me, so I can maybe, hopefully, if things actually go my way, have my visa application out by next Saturday.</span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"> I am not at all sure I used enough commas in this paragraph, so here is another one.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I would also like to say that the boiler in the house just went out, so there is no heat or hot water, and it is freezing and pouring rain and the wind is actually howling, so this is all splendid. And of course I discovered this when I went to take my shower, and the water wouldn't heat up, so I'm sitting around in a bathrobe waiting for the landlady to get here and do something. (What she will do, I'm not sure, but I will be extremely agitated if I have to go to bed without a shower.) I guess at least the boiler went out before I managed to get in the shower at all, so at least I am not freezing and covered in soap.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-35620139013813895872009-11-12T20:30:00.002+00:002009-11-12T20:50:19.428+00:00Boredom<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So, I'm still unemployed. I actually managed to get an interview with one place, but I was obligated to make my immigration situation clear to them (the amount of work I can do on my current visa is restricted), and you could see it not going over well, and it's been nearly a week and they haven't called me back (which kind of makes them assholes, actually) so I'm pretty sure that was a complete waste of my time. I submitted a bunch of applications for Christmas temp work, and no one's contacted me about that, either, which I think is because of both the visa thing and the fact that I have no retail experience. (Actually, it was also brought to my attention partway through the process that the master's degree is probably causing problems as well, but if I don't put that down they tend to wonder what my silly accent and I are doing here.) It's starting to really scare me, though, because I'll probably be okay until January or February with no income, embarrassing as it is to be mooching off my parents at the age of 25, but after that I'd better find someplace to hire me quick or I may have to give up and leave England, and no one wants that. I'm hoping I'll have a better time once I have the non-restricted visa and can apply for real jobs I actually qualify for, and after Christmas, because around this time of year no one wants to do any hiring except for retail jobs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">It also sucks because if I do manage to get a retail job, I will not be going home for Christmas (and getting my teeth cleaned, because my mother is obsessed), but if I don't get one, my parents might insist I come home this year, and it would be nice to be able to start planning now-ish. Oh well.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Speaking of the non-restricted visa. I submitted my dissertation TWO MONTHS AGO. WHERE ARE MY OFFICIAL RESULTS? Why are you people so slow? I need them to apply for my non-restricted visa, and I need that soon, dammit!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I hate sitting here in limbo. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Because I am so eyeball-clawingly bored, I spend a lot of time at the used bookstore, and that is also bad. I think I have only once managed to leave that place without another book, and when you're beginning to be afraid that you're going to have to leave the country shortly, more possessions are the last thing you need. But they have expensive archaeology textbooks! And that book I loved when I was 10 and had totally forgotten about, and all those books I had to leave at home when I came here, and miss terribly! (Those are actually okay, though, since if I do have to leave in January, I can just donate them back and go home to my original copies.) And so I keep dragging them home and stacking them up against the wall of my bedroom, and there are lots of them now.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I'm also learning to cook for myself. My mother says cooking is men's work, but since I don't date, I unfortunately have to learn to do these things myself. I used to do some when I was living in the apartment in LA, but most of that came from cans, and I'm trying to do more complicated things now. It's actually not that bad - everything I've made so far has at least been edible, and some of it was really good. Earlier this week I made up my own recipe for seafood paella, and was extremely proud of myself. No one actually taught me how to cook, but I know most of the basics because I used to hang around in the kitchen annoying my dad when he was trying to make dinner, so I picked up most of the basics that way. But I can't say I particularly enjoy it, so I do things like make a huge batch of pad thai and then microwave portions of it for the next three nights.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">But I believe my point was that I am bored, so bored I would even be almost happy to work retail, so you know it must be bad. Also, I hate not being in school And I really, really hope my search for museum jobs I qualify for goes better than my search for retail jobs that are totally beneath me.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-80879007807125998152009-10-31T19:33:00.004+00:002009-10-31T19:53:12.399+00:00Dear England,<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Giant 20-minute fireworks displays, while pretty and very much appreciated, are not how you celebrate Halloween. Halloween is celebrated by dressing up in costumes, eating candy until you feel sick, and, if you're me, reading Poe. (Actually, when I was still living at home I did not get to read Poe, because my dad used to make us listen to the original radio broadcast of <span style="font-style: italic;">War of the Worlds</span>, the one that freaked out everyone in New Jersey, but that is neither here nor there.) I know you guys like your fireworks, but it's Guy Fawkes in 5 days anyway. And it's not just one of you, there are at least 5 of you going right now. Try to restrain yourselves.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Thank you for your attention to this matter.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Antares</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-6686398358204063012009-10-24T14:07:00.003+01:002009-10-24T14:29:50.420+01:00No, I am actually alive.<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Sorry about that. First there was no Internet, and then there was laziness. Anyway, this is what I've been doing:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I went on vacation (in England, of course) with my parents. A large percentage of this vacation consisted of them trying to keep me out of used bookstores. "Look at that fascinating piece of architecture over there!" my dad would say. "There's a used bookstore right behind me, isn't there?" I would say. Other highlights included many, many archaeological digs and museums, because of course what I need right after completing a year of demanding archaeological study that I was completely unprepared for is more archaeology, just to unwind, you know. I got back at them, of course, by telling them in excruciating detail about the paleopathological conditions every set of human remains we encountered was suffering from, just to see my dad get the vapours. It serves him right.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I spent a week fighting with my Internet provider. It sucked. But I do have internet at the house now, although my router is in someone else's room. Thank god for wireless.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I looked for retail jobs, because I still have my student visa and have restrictions on what kinds of jobs I can have. I still don't have one. I can't decide whether it's my complete lack of retail experience (dude, I do not belong in retail, I'm only doing this as a last resort, and hoping to get through a few months without taking someone's face off), the American thing, or the fact that my master's degree makes me overqualified. But I can't leave those last two off because otherwise they will wonder what I have been doing with myself these past 6 years, and why I am talking so funny. Someone had better hire me soon, or I'm going to have to stop eating, and no one wants that. Trust me, you don't.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I had my birthday, and I turned 25, making me unbelievably old. NephthysWrath sent me blue irises, which are my favorite, and are incidentally the very first flowers anyone has ever given me. I know, I need a better social life. My grandfather sent me a card in which he expressed in not-so-veiled terms his incredulity at my decision to become an expatriot - this from the man who used to rent his house out every summer and use the money to go travelling in France. People in glass houses, that's all I'm saying. My parents sent me a new MP3 player, because the Nomad is now 5 and is beginning to show signs of acquiring a personality, which is not a quality you want in your electronics. The new one is also a Creative Zen, so hopefully it will be good for another 5 years. It has a color screen and can play video, and is so far removed generationally from the old one that it took me a full day to work through all the menu options, because they were completely unrelated to the ones I'm used to. David sent me X-Files Season 5, because that's what I told him to send, because whenever he has to buy gifts for women he consults me,</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"> and he can't have been learning very much.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >Finally, I decided to volunteer at a used bookstore, because I'm getting bored sitting around the house. Actually, I passed "bored" a while ago, and now I'm moving into "psychotic." I hate not being in school, and I can't find a retail job, and the used bookstore people were all "Well, you can come here for a few hours a day and sit behind the till and read books, and also have some of them for free, we have plenty," and so naturally I said "YES PLEASE, I'll have some of that," and now I'm afraid of what my room is going to look like when I inevitably have to move.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >There. You're all caught up.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-58255545166216058352009-09-16T16:34:00.004+01:002009-09-16T16:38:26.449+01:00The Dissertation...<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >...is done and handed in.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I can't believe it's over. More to the point, I can't believe I did this. This time two years ago, I did not expect to be announcing that I had finished all the work for my Master's in Archaeology.<br /><br />Awesome.<br /></span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-39060015753726000632009-09-14T13:54:00.003+01:002009-09-14T14:15:01.745+01:00Stuff<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I need job interview clothes. This will probably be black pants and a button-down shirt in some color that isn't white, because I refuse to wear dresses or skirts (that would mean dealing with my leg hair. No). I was explaining this to my parents, because obviously they are very interested in my getting a job, and my mother said "Well, you will need to wear a necklace with that. And I will need to inspect your necklaces beforehand, because I don't trust you." Sheesh. You wear one lousy metal collar, and buy a whole bunch of ribbon chokers, and suddenly they don't believe you when you assure then that you do, in fact, know what appropriate necklaces are. Also, how stupid do I think this whole necklace thing is? So stupid. They'll be lucky if I remember to take out my four extraneous earrings.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >I think I have moved into a houseshare in the Twilight Zone. My housemates do dishes every day. It's bizarre. I used to live with people who refused to do dishes until there were clouds of fruit flies in the kitchen, and then I would cave in and do them, every time. (At that point I wasn't as nasty as I am now, so I didn't leave the dirty dishes in their beds.) But these people do dishes every day. They don't steal food, they don't lock themselves in the bathroom for hours, they don't hog the washing machine, they don't even leave toothpaste in the sink. If they listen to music, it's inaudible to me. They turn off lights, they remember to lock the doors and the gates, and they're quiet when they come home late at night. I hardly ever even see them. The guy I share a fridge with cleaned out exactly half of it when I got there. And they're all in their early to mid 20's. It's so weird. I was convinced that I was the only 20-something in the entire world who was capable of behaving.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >And also. The landlady? Last week I came downstairs to make breakfast, and she was all "Oh, hi, I'll be resealing the sink today, and I'm going to put a lock on the garden gate." My last apartment? I had to threaten the landlords with paying my water bill for the month to get them to get off their asses and fix my leaking sink. Suddenly, I am really motivated to try and find a permanent job in the area, so I can stay here in the Twilight Zone.</span> <span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I don't even care if the landlady is keeping us all here to serve as hosts for the larvae of the giant alien bug in the basement. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);font-family:times new roman;" >My parents are coming on Thursday, and I have about 10 hours of work left on the dissertation - inserting the remaining pictures, formatting, and editing. I want to be able to turn it in on Wednesday, or Thursday morning at the latest. I am starting to panic about whether or not it is good enough, but I'm trying to ignore that because it's not like there's much I can do about it now, and anyway I'm probably being irrational. At least it's almost over. </span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-7313631621630118852009-09-07T13:39:00.002+01:002009-09-07T13:47:13.677+01:00Day 21, and irritation has set in<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">You know what is driving me particularly batshit about this dissertation? Without getting into specifics, the researchers I am using are depending upon works of art to tell them things about life in the past, and they keep praising these works as high quality and taking them as the gospel truth. Not to put too fine a point on it, but these researchers have no idea what they're talking about. Some of these "works of art" suck diseased monkey balls and remind me of when I was learning to draw and couldn't get anything aligned properly. Irises that aren't symmetrical don't necessarily indicate that the subject had a neurological disorder. Sometimes, they just indicate that the artist sucked. I'm talking particularly about Fayum portraits, which set me off today, but it applies to almost everything I've looked at. Yes, some of the artists were brilliantly good, but talent varies, and people seem to not be taking that into account. Some of them did indeed suck, just as many artists today suck.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">And that's all I have to say about that. Maybe art school made me all opinionated, but have these researchers thought of, oh, maybe showing these to contemporary artists and asking about the validity of them? Because they seem to be totally unqualified to judge quality on their own and should seek help.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-51532821452070659782009-09-01T19:37:00.002+01:002009-09-01T19:46:55.192+01:00The Houseshare<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So I finished paying all my fees and first two month's rent and all, and got the keys and codes so I can move into the houseshare. The room is decorated in green and orange, so the stuff I got for the bed this afternoon totally clashes (black and raspberry) but I'm really okay with that. Tomorrow I can start moving stuff down there so I can live down there and just work on the dissertation up here.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I was describing the place to my parents, and I think they were surprised. We were all expecting that I would end up with a slumlord, what with the fact that I currently have no job and a temporary visa, but I got unbelievably lucky. Around the time I was telling them about the newly redone floors, they asked me how much I was paying for this place again? because the landlady is in fact undercharging for it, in our opinion. I kind of never want to leave because I'll probably never get this lucky again. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Anyway, I'll post pictures of this place on the locked journal sometime around Thursday. I do still have to get Internet installed in my room. And, of course, I have to finish this damn dissertation.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-19294283582904254622009-08-27T13:43:00.002+01:002009-08-27T13:48:43.450+01:00It seems all that tuition money was well-spent<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">So, I'm watching </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull</span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">. I enjoy <span style="font-style: italic;">Indiana Jones</span> 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:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">"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."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-37434209949714015962009-08-26T15:15:00.002+01:002009-08-26T15:30:35.366+01:00I'm not homeless next month!<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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. </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Also</span><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">, the lightbulb in the nearest WC has been burned out for five days now and I am just so over university accomodation.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">I haven't heard anything further about my aunt. I'm worried.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-10178819361946365852009-08-21T16:10:00.003+01:002009-08-21T16:28:39.824+01:00One problem down, two remaining.<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">Now, I just have to worry about the dissertation and finding myself a part-time job.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1504887487082410275.post-42980203810001988222009-08-14T14:09:00.003+01:002009-08-14T14:23:09.332+01:00Why hello there, life suckage.<span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: times new roman; color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">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.</span>Antareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03846712198583829965noreply@blogger.com0