Stay or Go

There comes a point where you have to decide, weigh the pros and cons, and commit one way or another.  My frustration may not be completely unwarrented but I can't keep spazing out, it isn't good for either of us.  After a proper freak out, Beni could barely look at me, my words have a tendency to sting and hit where it hurts most.  I questioned everything and he wasn't the only one left wondering if I would stay.

Fighting has become our third wheel.  We have lost our balance.  Our honeymoon period was interrupted by brothers, cousins, and the impossible feat of learning other languages.  The same things that make us prime reality show candidates are very close to tearing us apart.  But I guess it's up to us if we let them.

We had a sober sit down and made a decision.  Our good times still outweigh the bad.  We are happier together than we would be apart.  So we stay, we try, and I try to stop flipping out.

We'll see how it goes...

Far away from smitten

Somewhere between smitten and student loans I became angry and bored.  With a financial aid gun to my grill, I have lost things (my mind, my reason, and my patience).  8 years of student loaning and poor credit history are coming back with a vengence...my UK experience hangs in the balance and all I can do is berate my boyfriend. 

I realize its not the best way to outsource my anger but try having an Albanian boyfriend who requires constant translation and explaination....sometimes I wonder if he's worth it.  I love him but I didn't sign up to be a teacher, I didn't sign up for 29 cousins and 12 brothers, and I certainly didn't agree to be the household coffee maker/translator/wardrobe consultant!  With a sick grandfather, a uncertain UK future, and a finance exam, I cannot handle Beni.  I can't handle anything about him.

At this moment....I hate his accent, I hate his crowded flat, I hate the way he says Baby, and I definately hate the way he thinks I get angry "so quickly"!  We have been together 6 months and I feel like we are married...it's on thin ice territory!  I love him madly but if I'm bored at 6 months, what the fuck is 1 year going to be like???

Uncle Sam's Bitch

Things have a way of catching up, especially when things seem to be falling in line.  There is always something that knocks your legs out from under you.  FAFSA pulled a Tonya Harding on me and burst my happy little bubble!

America loves changing processes and forms with little or no notice almost as much as lenders fail to continue to service loans.  Unfortunately for international students like myself, forms and processes have been reorganized now all my paperwork and loans have to be re-approved and re-issued.  Despite being given $20,000 (half) in January, I was denied for my second disbursement in September.  No loans, No school!

While I can't blame the US for my credit card debt, I can throw a tantrum and appeal the decision, a process that might take a miracle.

I have very few options....I can pay out $1500 to make my credit current, I can find a co-signer, or I can claim bankruptcy.  All options seem pretty shit but I am determined to make Uncle Sam my bitch again, at least for one more year!

Celebration

I don't need much of an excuse to celebrate but being employed is great reason!  I figured I would take the boy out for dinner....still weeks away from a paycheck but I think I can splurge on a nice dinner for the guy who has paid for food, rent, nights out, and things I wanted for months.  But in his own twisted fashion he decided it was better for us to cook a nice dinner and drink at home.

It only took one shot before we celebrated in the bedroom and because I am the tits, it was all about me.  A couple hours of Beni's sexual congrats was followed by more shots of bootlegged Albanian booze....and booze always leads to more sex...so more bedroom highfives followed.  Sex-haired and sweaty we (more me than we) cooked up some steaks and poured more wine.

Abandoning dirty dishes we headed back upstairs to fill up again...after a much needed shower we laid in bed naked, sipping wine, and spooning ice cream. 

Still on cloud 9, imagining how to spend my first paycheck, we spent Saturday drinking Roki (bootlegged booze) with cousins, eating food, drinking beers, and dancing.  We celebrated my job, the return of a cousin, and summer until 4 am.

Money Money Money

My worries are finally over!  I am officially employed!  I have been talking to a nonprofit for a few weeks leading up to an interview today.  I went in with a good feeling, I knew I would be great as the part time Fundraising Officer but it seemed way too good to be true.  I did my research, I made a plan, and went in as confident as possible.  And despite a few odd things to say to a potential employer, I got a call 2 hours later offering me the position. 

I could not be more excited!!!  I love the work and there is huge opportunities for me to leave my mark on the organization.  Not to mention the pay is fantastic.....I will be bringing in the same amount of money I was in the US (after the conversion) for 20 less hours a week!

This job means more countries, a new flat, and a ticket home for the holiday!

I'd write more but I have to start celebrating with the boy who supported me the last few months!

The 30 Before 30

I can't book a ticket or pack my bags yet but with Egypt 3 weeks away I can at least make a list.  My goal of 30 countries before 30 is underway.  With #10 looming, I've scoured a global map and selected the lucky 20 countries I will visit in the next 4 years.....

The Stamped:
1.  Canada
2.  France
3.  Italy
4.  Bahamas
5.  Mexico
6.  Ireland
7.  England
8.  Sweden
9.  Malta

Soon to be Stamped:
10.  Egypt

The Lucky 20
11.  Albania
12.  Argentina
13.  Australia
14.  Austria
15.  Brazil
16.  China
17.  Czech Republic
18.  Germany
19.  Greece
20.  India
21.  Japan
22.  Kenya
23.  Morocco
24.  Peru
25.  Russia
26.  Scotland
27.  South Africa
28.  Spain
29.  Turkey
30.  Wales

* Yes I am counting the United Kingdom seperately....I don't think any Scotish, Welsh, or Irish people would disagree with me.....

I won't stop at 30 but it's a start and of course there is always room for additions!!!!

Lovebox

1/5 of cheap Glen Vodka:  4 quid
4 Bags of Crisps:  5 quid
2 Day Passes to Lovebox:  80 Pounds
Drinking all day and night at an adult carnival:  Priceless

It was an expensive weekend but it was worth every pence!  A steady line of people poured into Lovebox as if it was the only thing in London.  The fashion was almost as interesting as the festival itself.  It was a mix of acts and types of people, making one hell of a party!  Acts just seemed to come and go as they please, most of which Ashley and I only knew by name.  Carnival rides, tents, and stages filled Victoria Park.  By the second day Bumper Cars and a Ferris Wheel didn't seem out of place.

We pregamed each day but the atmosphere sent us to the bar over and over again.  We entered a tent and worked our way to the front of the stage to listen to an unknown rapper.  3 hours and many shots later we worked our way out of the tent.  The black tent made it seem like midnight, surprisingly it was still midday.  We made our way to the cider treehouse for some unnecessary drinks.  We finally made our way to the main stage to see Mark Ronson and pushed our way to the front of the crowd listening to an old British band.  After 3 songs we were over the band, even if the crowd wasn't.  We thought our plan worked, the crowd cleared out and we made our way to the front.  We figured the older crowd would have to pee and we could make our move.  Once we reached the front we realized, everyone cleared out.  The security gaurd informed us, the show was over.  The black tent didn't just mask the sun, apparently it masked the sounds of Mark Ronson going on.  We missed the one act we wanted to see....that's the last time I hide in a tent all day!  Well maybe not the last but next time maybe we will check the schedule first.  Disappointing but still a great day of daydrinking!

Gothic Prostitutes?

I'm all about theme parties, put me in a toga and hand me a beer and I'm beyond a happy kid!  But this was just odd, what exactly is a gothic prostitute?  As a former sorority gal, I know exactly what a Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes party even a Corporate hoes and CEOs party isn't beyond me but this was a new one.  It's even stranger when you're up dressed not as a Gothic whore but as a normal chick.  It just doesn't seem to mesh well with electical tape, black lipstick, mesh, corsets, and leather....sadly I didn't have enough room in my suitcase for my mesh and leather.

Since I've been uber lame the last week, I took Ashley up on her invite without a second thought.  I headed to Shoreditch just in time for Ash's warning, she was also in the dark about the dress code.  With vodka in hand, I wasn't going back home just in time to kiss the boy goodnight, I came to drink!  And drink we did...the vodka eased the awkward vision of being the only two in a color other than black.  Unlike their dark dress, the people were nice and welcoming.  Before long the vodka was gone and we had a new buddy.  A very hot gay man who like us wanted to bail for a better scene.  And there is no better scene than a gay club in my opinion.  We snuck out of the flat in search for other hot men (for our new buddy of course) and some pints.  Despite arriving an hour before closing, the bar was still packed.  We made a lap searching for a partner for our friend before dancing.  The hour flew by and us girls made friends easily.  As we were ushered on to the street, we said bye to our buddy and went on the hunt for kebabs.  By 5am we were ready to pass out.  I watched the sun come up for the first time in weeks.  Considering we had two days of Lovebox ahead of us, it was not the smartest decision but sometimes a girl just needs a good night out.

Lucky Charms

If I didn't know any better I would think I am bipolar or permanently PMSing this month.  The only good thing about being an emotional rollercoaster is that as quickly as I can turn into a sobbing mess, little things can swing the pendulem into the sunnier side.  Everyone has a weakness and since I could never afford a pair of Louboutins, I have to settle for a cheaper mood change.  It used to therapy curteosy of Victoria Secret but they put an end to those credit card swiping days so a little browsing and candy will have to be enough these days.

Rebecca and I started the day on a job mission, sadly I was unprepared.  Who knew you need copies of your resume to apply to bars.  After a couple of no vacancies and some dizzling of rain, we moved on to shopping.  Well Rebecca shopped and I held back from pulling out my shiny cards.  We leave for Egypt in 3 weeks, a trip that requires some shopping.  We stumbled into my heaven...Stanfords...a travelers Mecca.  Maps, atlas', travel novels, journals, backpacker gear, travel books, historical maps....anything and everything you could ever need to safari in Kenya or hike in the Highlands.  We debated sleeping bags for our camping along the Nile, disolving body wash, pop up maps, and guidebooks for our trips while imagining our next adventures.  An hour flew by before we had to pry ourselves out of the store.  I had added Stanfords to my list of employer hopefuls and promised to return when I could spend a day planning my next adventure.  And because Rebecca is badass, she surprised me with a belated birthday present, a gift certificate to my heaven. 

If my travelers dream wasn't enough, we wondered around Convent Garden and discovered a special candy shop.  An international candy shop, the perfect fix for homesick Americans.  The shop is filled with candy from around the world, mostly America....things that are almost impossible to find.  Pop Tarts, Jelly Bellys, Reeses, Lucky Charms, Vanilla Coke, Pop Rocks, War heads, Blow Pops, Cow Tales....basically a pool snack stand, penny candy included!  Of course it doesn't come cheap to import your childhood goodies, 7 quid for a large bag of M&Ms or box of Lucky Charms but sometimes its worth it.  I didn't drop 5 pounds on a box of pop tarts but I was tempted.  I walked out cheaply considering.  8 pounds later I was sipping a Vanilla Coke debating which treats I would eat first. 

It's the little things....maybe a piece of American candy a day will keep the depression at bay....

Another day, another rejection

The days are starting to blur together, I wish there was a good excuse like a 4 day binge fest filled with fun parties with good pals but I am living in my own version of Groundhog Day. 

Lately each day is like the one before:

I wake up later than any 26 year should, 11 am is not exactly a respectable time to start the day outside of college!  Drink a cup of coffee and wish I was smoking a cigerette with that coffee and begin my daily Internet routine....Gmail, Perez, Facebook, and maybe just maybe if there is time Texts from Last Night or FML.  While browsing I watch 2 of the 10 daily episodes of Friends, amazingly I am still entertained by episodes I have seen a million times.  Once I've had my daily fill of Friends, I start hunting.

Hunting for work has taken over my life, the thorn in my side, a fucking headache, and a constant worry.  I am listed with every recruitment agency in the city, none of which have proved to be helpful.  From fundraising to dog walking, I have applied for it all.  2 1/2 degrees and I am not even a candidate for walking muts, god forbid any of my university's play 'where are they now?' with me!  I have been realistic about this search, not even teasing myself with work that is out of my league.  Each application (especially those that I would be perfect for) brings a momentary glimmer of hope, (I can almost feel the notes at my fingertips) only to have hopes dashed with unanswered emails, teases of interviews, and letters of rejection. 

I feel the judgement of the Albanians, I suspect they think I am being too picky or that I am not as qualified for work as I have led on.  The longer I go without a paycheck the more I worry about the entourage thinking I am using Beni.  They don't know that I am uncomfortable with each offer to pay or take care of me.  They don't realize that I did have a career (a shitty paying one but a career nontheless) and that I will again.  Luckily for me, Beni doesn't share these opinions but I can only accept his help for so long before really losing all confidence.....

Look at my Lady Bits!

It's been a little too long since someone has looked at my lady bits...correction: someone with a medical degree.  Unfortunately, a MD is not on my list of conquests.  It was long overdue and as much as I love the boy, I do not want to start making an Albanian-American football team anytime soon.  So, STD testing and Anti-Albanian baby pills were in order.

With national health care in place, there is an abundance of clinics, its a great option if you have hours of time to wait and I since I'm unemployed with no hobbies, I do have the time.  It was much nicer than my first experience at an NHS facility.  A Beautiful building complete with chapel, museum, cafe, and gardens in the Barbican area.  The staff were kinder too.  A murse and I discussed my sexual history, my non-existent shooting up history, and my medical history before we started my requested 'check-up'.

Any American woman knows the drill, undress, feet in the stirrups, and get ready for some awkward small talk while someone opens you up with metal torture devices.  I prepared for this exam, made sure my lady bits were in tip top viewing shape but to my vagina's surprise there was no exam, no stirrups, and no devices.  He asked if I felt alright, I said yes but I wanted to be checked anyway.  He asked when  the last time I had unprotected sex was....3 days ago.  And with that he handed me Plan B.  There was no discussion, except for "You're right at the end of the window but you might as well give it a shot"

Once again the Brits got it right, it's much cheaper to hand over the pills for free than pay for a baby.  With the pills out of the way, he went for blood...gotta cover all bases including HIV.  I was still waiting to drop my pants especially when he pulled out the oversized q-tip, girls you know the one.  Instead, I was shown the bathroom: to self administer the swab.  Is there that limited of an amount of doctors that I have to swab myself?  I mean I'm familiar with the terrain and all but I don't think I'm qualified for this kind of medical exercise.  But swab I did.

It was over before I knew it and the only person who saw my bits was me, apparently if I want someone to see my good girl, I have to go to the GP or bang a doctor.  He handed me a 3 month supply of birth control, a free condom, and ushered me out promising to text my results in a week.  That's right medical results of a sensitive nature are now available via text....I don't know if I should be impressed or creeped out about the form of notification.

Happy Birthday America!

I didn't expect red, white, and blue carpets rolled out for us Yanks, especially since I would not be attending any American bashes.  Despite events in the country we so slickly said Fuck off to on July 4, 1776, I had bigger plans.  Unlike other years, I would not be BBQ'ing, feeling my belly pound at each burst of fireworks, or drinking on Ben Franklin Parkway.  But I would be drinking in my stars and stripes.  I don't think I have ever been more patriotic in my life, living in another country has a strange way of making you love the homeland, flaws and all.

In honor of America, Ashley and I watched some YouTube classics, ya know Dick in a Box, Mother Lover and other SNL favorites, all over beers of course.  Then it was time for another American tradition:  Power Hour.  The minutes passed quicker than we could drink...but we managed to finish strong.

Flag clad, Monica, Ashley, and I headed to Hyde Park for the Wireless Festival.  As a colorful, rowdy bunch, it wasn't long before we ran into a few other Americans in the tents.  The few other with flags flying signaled others to come join our American sections of the tent.  Tinie Tempah, Lilly Allen, Wale, and last but certainly not least J-Zay were just a few of the acts that rocked out 3 stages in Hyde Park. 

It may not have been home but it wasn't a bad way to spend America's biggest holiday.

Show a lil Pride

"Some People are Gay, Get over it"

I mean that just sums it up nicely without quoting the Bible, Constitution, or any other documents that tend to cause a morality rucus!  It was the motto of Pride 2010, a motto I loved more with each passing T-shirt, sticker, and banner.

I love the gays, especially gay men...I mean who else can you let motor boat you without fear of an awkward coming up for air situation?  No one!  Most of my favorite nights have been staged in a gay club: nights filled with sounds of amazing mixes, served by gorgeous men in hot pants, and danced until I can't stand any longer!  Don't get me wrong Lesbian bars are the tits too!  Stonewall anyone?

As a gal with many a gay friend, I skipped my rainbow loving ass to Pride 2010, afterall who doesn't love a drag queen?  If you don't, you aren't any fun and we could never really be good pals.  I love all drag queens but have the utmost respect for those with impeccable makeup, 6 inch heels, and a body that makes me jealous.  There are some that need to teach women like me a little lesson in lady like behavior and appearance.  Anyone know where I can get a fairy drag mother?  Moving on:  The parade was spectacular, rainbow flags flying, music blasting from floats, men wearing shoes I only dream to own, and lots and lots of love!  Being the party that it was, it didn't take us American girls long before we starting drinking with the very good looking crowd.

By the end of our first ciders, people had overtaken the 3 tiered fountain.  It provided a perfect and very wet, dancing platform.  They let the crowd have their fun for one tune, maybe it was the nipples or the penis but security shut that bitch down much to the crowds dismay.

We moved further into the crowd towards the stage.  We chugged our beers, taking in the view of couples kissing, holding hands, and lots of heavy petting and dancing.  The most amazing part (aside from the hot bodies in hot pants) was that there was no drama, no fighting, and thankfully no religious assholes pushing their outdated beliefs on the crowd.  Everyone was there for one thing and one thing only:  Long overdue equality.

And because Pride celebrations take things to a whole new level:  there was a choerographed dance.  That's right, our fine fellas and lovely ladies taught a million people to dance in unison to "I need a Hero". 

It was a very happy, colorful day in London.  For all my wonderfully hot homosexual friends:  Go Make Out in Public, You Deserve It!

London Falling

I doesn't take much to knock my off my high horse and stop being a whining little bitch.  It started with the nice lady at Toni and Guy who gave me a free haircut and ended with finishing a book.  A book that would make anyone realize things aren't so terrible.  My rut is actually nothing, nothing is comparison to other people in other corners of the world.  Fiction or not, A Thousand Splendid Suns left me in tears and feeling guilty for whining.  So in an effort to force myself out of my hole and remember why I'm here, I am going to write once a week about something I love about my new city. 

So for starters here are just a few of my favorite things....

Tube Musicians:  Hallelujah by Lenard Cohen pouring through the Central interchange on Bond Street makes my day, everytime.  The man at Picadilly with the muppet playing the drums as he sings and plays the harmonica is a tourist and drunk favorite, I too have drunkenly wondered how he does it.  From the Beatles to the Doors, I love everything about the 'buskers'.  These musicians aren't random, they audition for licenses to play, sign up for peak times at heavily traveled lines. It might seem like a lot of red tape but at least it makes commuters feel like they are sitting at Britian's Got Talent tapings.

Pimms:  The official summer drink of England.  A red liquor mixed with tonic, apples, mint, oranges, lemons, and cucumbers.  I understand why it's a big hit, there is nothing better than a pitcher of pimms by Tower Bridge.

Musuems:  There is an endless supply of art, science, and history in London.  Unlike America and other countries England believes that the public has a right to that art, a right to see it for free!  You can spend weeks inside buildings as beautiful as the art they hold and still never see enough.  And for a different view, away from class trips and annoying crowds, you can attend a 'Late Night', stocked with booze, food, quizzo, and free reign at the museum....no kids allowed!

Jonathan Ross, Mock of The Week, and Graham Norton:  I know I don't understand everything they say, in fact I am pretty sure I miss 30% of the pop culture jokes but they are quite entertaining.  There is little they leave alone, even less they don't make fun of.  One day I will understand all their jokes, until then I will do my best at laughing at the right moments.

Dr. Who:  I hate sci-fi, I hate things that are unexplainable and don't make sense.  And there is nothing about a phone booth that is bigger on the inside that makes sense...but I am addicted anyway. 

Tower Bridge:  I fall in love with it over and over again.  It is my icon of London and I hope I never get over the sight of it

Open Air Markets:  Camden, Borough, Portobello...they all have their own style, their own specialty.  From amazing cheese, chocolate and clothes under 10 quid to vintage silver and WW1 Nazi uniforms.  It is my favorite way to spend a Saturday afternoon, pushing through the crowds, haggeling, and eating my way through the streets.

Accents:  No list of mine would be complete without acknowleding my love for British accents.  The way they walk is brilliant, especially when they are dressed smart.  It's not just how they talk, its what they say, British English is colorful, descriptive, and sarcastic....don't even get me started on little British kids, even when they are being assholes on the bus, they still sound cute whining at their mums!  It's not just the British, London is filled with accents, Australian, Irish, Scotish, Italian, Spanish, and every country you can imagine.  I may have trouble understanding each word but I don't mind listening either way.

I have to save some for next week...I figure it's just like dressing for success, if I write about what I love once a week maybe I won't think about what I miss so much.