Wednesday 29 October 2008


Holy McFrozen monkey nuts, it is COLD! 0 degrees Celsius, aka I need to buy more sweaters. In OCTOBER! Not November, December, or January...OCTOBER!

Unfortunately, out main heater is being a bastard and not working at the moment, so Scottie and I had to buy a tiny floor heater...and being cheap, we got one that manages to cough out something resembling a warm tropical breeze. It isn't the greatest at combating low temperatures, but at least it's better than nothing and takes the bite out of the air.

Luckily I got a job (yay!), but unfort I have to be at work for 7:30 (death!). But now working =money=can buy sweaters to not freeze to death.

Tuesday 28 October 2008

I was doing some autumn cleaning on the ol' lappy the other day and found an old bookmarked site for a blog I had waaaaaaaay back in the day. Okay, it wasn't that long ago, but it started in 2004- my online travel/reflection on living and studying abroad. I had completely forgotten that I had it, and it took me ages to remember the password. That's a lie, I never did think of the password, but some how it got linked to this account. Computer magic I guess. Anyway, reading back through my old entries is totally making me cringe...the things I wrote down (which I am too embarassed to allow public now) are so opposite from what I belive in now.

For instance, I really did enter Scotland with the same outlandish, tourist-fed, steryotypical ideals that Barbie currently has, and which currently piss me off to no end. I even mentioned in one post how I would become a Nationalist if I could...I think I seriously must have been on crack that year.

But it is a nice reminder of the person I used to be and how much I have grown since then. I don't know if I'll still stick to the same views that I embrace now, but I suppose that blog #2 here will be a future reminder of the person I am now.

One thing that hit me was how awesome a cook I was back in SD. Apparently I continued my blog until second quarter of my last year at uni (how did I completely forget this?) and a lot of it is delicious sounding. Like my homemade artichoke, ranch, basil, tomato pizza...if only ranch and artichokes existed in Scotland...

Here is one this I will share..the MQ's top ten lists!
Top Ten Inappropriate Political Campaign Promises
10. Putting the White back in the White House
9.Deport homosexuals back to their homeland
8.Get US population down to a cool million, one way or another
7.No Child of Economic Privilege Left Behind
6.Replace State of the Union Address with 45 minutes of president wrestling a quadruple amputee
5.More all-campus dances
4.Vertical Manifest Destiny
3.Appoint new Secretary of Strangling Hobos
2.Getting abortions out of the clinics and back into the alleys where they belong
1.A gajillion new jobs

Top Ten Ways to Get Play at UCSD
10.Stalk your TA for some T&A
9.Join the Five-Year-Olds Club
8.Attent annual "Whores at the Shores" event
7.Overly suggestive phallic, scented candles
6.Overly suggestive phallic-scented candles
5.High skirts, low standards
4.O-chem answer key
3.With the new Blockbuster Freedom Pass!
2.Major in foot reflexology
1.Leave

Monday 27 October 2008

Okay, I suppose it's getting down to the wire back in the good ol' US of A for political candidates, measures, and propositions, and since it seems everyone has to comment in some way about the US political situation at the moment, I might as well follow. Bahhhh.

Rather than bleather about Obama vs John or Joe vs. Sarah, I'm gonna make a wee mention about something a bit closer to home. No, not Prop 8, the elimination of gay marriage, but the splash of cold water in the face that is Prop. 2.

Huh?

Yeah, I had no idea about ANY of the proposition until my ballot arrived two weeks ago...being removed from the country and from all the non-stop political propaganda ads meant that I could vote with a truely unbiased approach. So aided with nothing more than my sample ballot and my ol' trusty lappy interweb, I started filling it out. And then I came to Prop 2.

'Standards for Confining Farm Animals. Requires that certain farm animals be allowed, for the majority of every day, to fully extend their limbs or wings, lie down, stand up and turn around.'

Wait, Californians are voting on that? And that's when I knew I had been away for waaaay too long. You see, the UK has gone ape shit for free range. EVERYWHERE you go, all you see are free range chicken, free range beef, free range eggs, etc, etc, etc. They've had copious shows on the BBC hosted by big name Michelin chefs like Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay trying to educate the public about animal farming methods. It's now to the point that big supermarkets like Sainsburys has their own brand of chickens reared to RSPCA standards, and heck, its getting to the point that finding a non-free range butter is hard.

So having been immersed in a culture that now makes you feel like a shameful, bad person for not buying free range, it's become second nature to assume that all meats/dairy products are free range. Why wouldn't they be? Which is why Prop. 2 stuck me. We're voting to allow animals to stand up, turn around, and stretch their wings? Um, shouldn't they be doing that already? Oh wait- it's the US.

And then I remembered the Cow Fields. If anyone has the pleasure of driving for 12 hours from San Diego along the 5 interstate to San Francisco, they will inevitable pass the Cow Fields. Somewhere along hour 5 or 6, maybe an hour or so past the Grapevine, you enter a stretch that passes where our beef (or dairy, or something cow related) comes from. Miles of cows packed together on brown dirt under the blistering 108 heat with no shade and very little water just milling about and waiting. They say in the adverts that happy cows come from California, but these cows certainly don't look happy. I also remember the chickens, as seen in Fast Food Nation, and how many of them go crazy being tucked into shoe box sized cages until they die.

To me, having been in the UK for a while now and having seen free range practically take over the grocery stores, it seems like a given. But being away makes you realise that it's not. If you need to judge a country ( or state) on something, look at what gets put up to the vote, and how it does ( or does not) pass. I personally would much rather live in a state that not only brought the subject of free range up, but voted for it, than a state that continued to be ignorant to the welfare of the animals they eat.

However, we'll just have to wait and see if animals will legally be allowed to 'stand up and turn around.'

Sunday 26 October 2008


Okay, it getting bad now. As if caving in to the evils of High School Musical wasn't bad enough. I have now taken on the ultimate in homemaking- knitting.

Now, back when I was 6, I prided myself on my champion finger knitting skills- to make one long ass knitted chain that could only function as maybe an escape rope for a 60 lbs Rapunzel. But that was as far as I went with yarn.

But ever since my obsession with Alpaca (and I just found a new favourite- GUANACO!!!) knitwear, I've been on a mission to acquire as much as possible...except that I am dirt dirty poor. So what better way to save money and keep myself occupied while waiting and waiting and waiting for someone to call and offer me employment? The answer seemed obvious. Plus, I have always been insanely jealous of everyone who is talented enough to whip out these amazing knitted creations of mittens, hats, and jumpers.

So I popped around to the nearest awesome store (our local one is called Ali's Cave- it has EVERYTHING you need, from light shades, to thread, to birthday cards, to fireworks, to dish soap, to makeup, to party favours...EVERYTHING!) to see what they had in the knitting department. They had your wide variety of cheap yarns and needles, and not knowing what I was doing, I bought the cheapest of both. Then back home to let the interweb show me the way to knitting heaven!

I found a LOT of how-to sites, many of which included loads of videos, which were a great help. My problem was I went and got the cheap yarn- the kind that is really thin and separates into 3 strings really easily, so that I kept splitting the thread while stitching. I spent ALL NIGHT trying to just get past 3 rows without a mistake. I was failing!

But something strange was also happening- my WHOLE arms, especially around my armpits were SUPER sore. WTF? I mean, my fingers and hands are sore, but that's expeceted since I am using my fingers in ways I've never used them before (insert perverted snigger here). But my armpits? Okay...

Today I was determined to get some bigger needles. I went to two different shop, but this being Scotland, they were closed on Sunday. So I went all the way here to get my goods and almost fainted. I needed larger needles, so I was resolute to get them, but they were £6.10!!!! AND, were MADE IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA...and not only are they expensive knitting needles from NorCal, their phone number is a 707 area code...THAT'S MY OLD AREA CODE!!!! I came all the blinking way to Scotland to end up buying knitting needles that are made back at home.

Screw you universe.

BUT, the sliver lining in all of this is that the knitting shop also sold...BABY ALPACA YARN!!!! So now I feel obligated to get this knitting thing going...I need me my alpaca!!! So I caved in and bought some yarn (which was cheaper than the needles....bloody wooden imported NorCal needles), so even if I fail at the knitting, I can just wrap the yarn around myself.

Thursday 23 October 2008

I am going mental. Nucking Futs, as the button I had in 9th grade said.

Yesterday, with no bread to bake or things to do, I stayed in all day and got more depressed. I contemplated going out to buy an apron, but I have no money to frivolously spend like that. And it was cold, windy, and rainy.

So I stayed inside and ...it really hurts to say it...watched High School Musical 1 & 2....ugh. I know. I hate myself a lot more for it. And I think I lost 100 more IQ points.

Today was only slightly better. I was determined to make a pumpkin pie.

Sounds easy- go to shop, buy ingredients, mix, bake, voila. Oh wait, I forgot that this was Scotland.

So I walk the mile to the large shop that is the closest thing I can get to a Safeway or Ralphs to look for ingredients. I find the spice, the pie crust, the cream, eggs, everything...but pumpkin puree. No where. So I go to another shop. And another. By the time I get to the 6th shop, I am annoyed, tired, and by this time, wet, because it started raining again. So I suck it up and resign myself to follow in the footsteps of our foremothers of yore...buy a pumpkin to make puree from scratch. Now I can't remember how much a can of pumpkin puree costs in the States, but I doubt it costs more than $2. My fu*&ing pumpking cost $5. PLUS I have to take it home, cut it, clean it, and boil it for 2 hours to soften it up before scraping off the skin and running it all through a blender. HASSLE.

And good bloody homemker that I am, I even bake the pumpkin seeds to snack on.

Then I bake the pie. It cooks, smells good...BUT TASTES LIKE EGG. No pumpkiny taste at all. Apparently there are pumpins and there are cooking pumpkins, and it being close to Halloween, all the store are selling CARVING PUMPKINS...which have no flavour. Awesome.

Next time, I am using a butternut squash.

Tuesday 21 October 2008

Sadness. I got up at 9 today, switched on the ol' lappy, and seriously didn't finish getting dressed until 5:00. Seriously.

My normal routine is to let the old machine warm up while I wander through to the bathroom. Then I'll click on my internet and e-mail and go make a cup of tea and breakfast while it takes its sweet time to load. I like to check my e-mail in the morning because of the whole time difference thing, and most e-mails from back home are sent while I'm deep asleep. Then I normally get dressed and go about my day. Normally, if I have a day to go about in.

Today held no motivation to even get dressed. The temp agency e-mail me yesterday (at 9:00) to tell me that I was first on their list if anything came up, but that the market was slow. Fine. So I know I'm not getting a call anytime soon. So instead, all I did ALL FREAKING DAY was sit in my PJs and look for jobs. I applied to 4, one of them very out of my depth, but I figured I'd give it a go. Then I figured I might get a move on...the clock was ticking towards 4 and I still had not left my computer, my PJs, or my flat.

The sad thing is that I was initally motivated to go out and buy an apron so that I could make more bread without getting flour all over me. How sad is that? I couldn't be bothered to get dressed or even leave the house for anything, save maybe getting an apron so I ccould be uber Betty Crocker. But then I looked outside at the HOWLING winds of 5893mph and decieded to do laundry.

Finally, as the clock began to hit 5, I figured I should at least put some real clothes on before Scottie came home from work and mocked me. But not before I sewed up a hole in my jumper and did some washing up.

Finally, up and dressed, I made bread.

And the really really sad part of all this- now that I made the bread and washed the clothes and sewed up the sweater...I have NOTHING to do tomorrow.

Maybe I'll print out 100 CVs (resumes) and walk around to EVERY shop and shove it down their throats. I never wanted to go back to retail again, but I'll do it if I must.

A gal can't live for making bread each day.

Monday 20 October 2008

I know that I'm jobless, dirt poor, and trying my best to avoid all things consumerist, but every now and then, I get a notion in my head and obsess over it for days...weeks...even months.

Now, I really don't want to think of myself as another damn American consumer, and I've tried so so much to really think about how much I need things before buying them...but sometimes, I get obsessive. My obsession at the moment: Knitwear. Specifically alpaca knitwear. Weird, I know.

When I was up in John o Groats, they had that amazing knit wear shop, and I was in love with the idea that for once, I would be able to find a quality jumper, not cheaply made in a factory with poor quality wool, and since it was hand made, it would be unique, special, and hopefully last me until I was old and crippled, and I could look back and say 'oh, this sweater has done me good.' And then the chick was on holiday and that plan was foiled.

But somehow, I got to thinking about my hobby/passion- South American Archaeology. I had a fabulous professor who taught Pre-Incan archaeology and you can't learn about Peru without learning about llamas, alpacas, and vicunas. So some wires crossed in my head and suddenly I was searching the webernet for alpaca knitwear.

I found some great sites that bought handmade alpaca knitwear directly from Peruvian farmers and artisans, giving them a significant amount of the proceeds in the process. Yay! And alpaca wool is supposed to be softer and warmer than cashmere.

So first I bought some gloves. They were $8, handmade, and were those 'glitten' things that are fingerless gloves with a flap to transform them into mittens. And hot damn do I love them.

Now that the weather is getting colder there is a part of me that wants more. Envious, want want want. It's a horrible feeling- but if I can't get a sweater knitted by a little old tea drinking lady up in the highlands, then by golly, I am gonna get something from Peru/Bolivia.....when I get a job.


Damn you alpaca clothing!!! I know, kinda hippy-ish, but jesus is it soft! And warm! And...helps little old South American grannies who are sitting by their fires at night knitting away! Oh well...

One day, alpaca, you will be MINE! Muh ha ha ha ha....

Sunday 19 October 2008

Back from holiday!! Yes, on Monday, Scottie and I departed his parents house in Fife for the wild, stormy North. Which now means that I have to spill all my travels on here.

We started out heading up along the coast road, stopping at Arbroath for lunch. Then we continued up towards Aberdeen because I just had to stop at Dunnotar Castle. This castle is AWESOME! It's surrounded by the bay, overlooks the North Sea, and kept me entertained running around it's massive grounds, searching rooms, and wandering up staircases.
It was magic.

The next stop was at our B&B. But first we had to get through Aberdeen. Now, Scottie passed his license a year ago, but never drove after passing it. So a week before he went on a lot of practice runs with his brother and dad, so he was a bit more confident at the wheel...and absolutely fine driving on the country roads...but we had to go and follow the advice of his brother's satellite navigation thing, and the bastard took us RIGHT THROUGH CENTRAL ABERDEEN DURING RUSH HOUR!!! Now I've done my fair share of driving though cities- San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Diego- but even though I have 8 years of driving under my belt, I still do my best to avoid driving through the city centres when I can....and even though I wasn't driving, going through Aberdeen with Scottie almost set me off in an anxiety attack. There were invisible bus lanes, pedestrians running out on suicide missions, taxi drivers of death, and impatient tailgaters who liked to ignore roundabout courtesy and just gun it. Somehow, Scottie kept his cool and we made it out alive, in one piece, and with no additional dents, dings, or scrapes. Whoo!

We got to our B&B and crashed on the bed. Then we headed back into town for dinner- in a town no bigger than a thumbnail, but which contained a disproportionate amount of NEDs, all driving around in circles in their souped up rice rockets, seeing who could have the loudest exhaust. Ugh. The next day we headed out early again for the next leg of our journey. This part followed the coast route before breaking off through Fyvie, then back up along to coast to meet Inverness. We stopped at Fyvie castle en route for a look at the amazing interior. Fyvie started out as a royal hunting lodge in the 13th century, then was bought and sold 5 different times. In the 18th century, it was remodelled more along the line of a stately home, and much of the crystal, paintings, furniture, and decorations are from that period. Then it was bought in the turn of the 20th century by a Scotsman who married a Louisiana shipping heiress, and he fitted it out with electricity, indoor water, and Tiffany lamps. Then after our tour of the castle, we were off to B&B number two.

Our B&B was a great place out near the Culloden battle field. Again, we set out in the early morning to make our way up to John O'Groats. Along the way we went through the little town of Cullen, known for its Cullen Skink, a.k.a. delicious fish chowder. And lovely California-esque beaches. This part of the drive was super lovely, and we had the good fortune of having sunny skies all the way through. John O'G is suuuper remote. But it is the northern most town in mainland Britain, which is why we went. One exciting thing they had was a large crafts centre of different shops that sold candles, pottery, and knitwear. Now my mom has been whining for me to buy her 'real Scottish sweaters from the Highlands' for ages, and I always just go to the charity shop and get a second hand jumper from Marks and Spencers...I think she is catching on. So I was excited to see a shop devoted to woolly hats, fair isle jumpers, and scarves, all made by little old Scottish women around the peat fire in the literal middle of nowhere. Except that it was closed for a week-including the day we were there. Pants. So it looks like mom is getting another £3 thing from Cancer Research.

Since the only thing to do in JoG is go to the crafts centre and Stacks, we made sure to do both. The Stacks of Duncansby are large rock formations that jet out of the North Sea about 2 miles from JoG. And trust me, there are pictures of them EVERYWHERE. Our B&B had 8 different picts of them framed up all around the room, on place mats, on coasters, and as post cards. So naturally, we had to head to see them too. So at 9 in the morning, we trekked out to visit the Stacks, while 30mph gusts of constant wind threaten to blows us away to oblivion. Then we headed to Dunnet Head, the farthest point North in Britain you can reach. And then we were off again, this time along the top of Scotland to the small town of Tongue for lunch. Then off again through the mountains back to Inverness. We left Inverness bright and early to head to Kingussie, our last stop before home. We got there with plenty of time for hiking, and went on a very picturesque trek up a hill that over looked the town. Let me say, the 250m ascent reminded me of how out of shape I am, and fatty over here needed to take copious breaks to pant. But at least it gave some lovely views. We also stopped over to see the remains of Ruthven Barraks, a fort taken by the Jacobites just after Culloden. Then after a restful night in the wonderful little B&B, it was time to head for home, but not after a stop to Doune Castle. Doune Castle is famous, not for being one of the most intact 13th century castles, but because of it's star role in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Yes, it is the castle that Arthur gets taunted from by the French who farts in his general direction and then launches a cow off the castle roof at poor Arthur and his comrade. But aside from Monty Python stardom, it's an all around awesome castle. You actually can climb up the twisting, tiny stairs to the roof, check out the rooms, the various halls, the bedrooms, it was just all around awesome.
Thus ended our fun and fantastic trip up and around Scotland. You would think that after seeing so much of this small country, I would done with it, but being able to drive around it only made me want to see even more. There were countless other castles that we didn't see, stately homes, new mountains to climb, the entire West coast to explore, and more... it's hard to believe that such a small country can still have so much more to offer!

Sunday 12 October 2008

No matter how happy you are with your own life, your body, or your love life, it's always nice to get noticed and chatted up. And if you suffer from a lack of confidence like me, even getting chatted up by minging Irish boys is enough to raise your self-image levels. Sad, I know, but I'm still flattered, even if they are beyond pissed.

After my delightful day of bread baking (which btw turned out to be DELICIOUS), I met up with Barbie for a night of drunken debauchery. Apart from the fact that I'm unemployed and skint, so I was trying to limit myself to £10 for the night. And thanks to not eating dinner and sticking to pints, I managed to get by with £15. Anyway, I meet up with Barbie outside this studenty Irish pub called Biddy Mulligans. It's packed with about 2 different Hen parties, so there's craziness going on inside. Barbie shows up in 3 inch heels (well, she is only 5'2"), tight skinny jeans, and a shirt clervery belted under her bosom so that her ginormous breasts are spread out on a platter to be visually devoured by everyone with functioning eyesight. It was raining, so I ended up in black chunky heeled boots, a knee lenght skirt, and a long shirt...hey, it was cold!

Anyway, the drinking commenced, and so did the pick up lines. A few guys came up to say they had been checking us out since we entered the place. Others pretending to be tourists wanting to know where we'd be later that night...I was even grabbed by a guy named Patrick and forced into a ho-down line dance to Galway Girl.

Now, going out with Barbie is always an experience because 89% of all the guys flock to her and her Eva Longoria like looks, and half the fun is watching her beat guys off her by any means possible. But inevitably after a while, I always end up feeling like 'the ugly friend.' Last night, however, was another matter...

It's always good to get that extra boost of confidence, and I'll take whatever I can get!

*This post was meant to go out a week ago...but my holiday interrupted it...whoops.

Friday 10 October 2008

A slightly warm wind with a hint of Northern bite is howling down at a million miles an hour, the trees are quickly losing all their newly changed leaves in the gales, and the sky is a quickly morphing into into a darker shade of grey- it's the perfect day to stay in a bake bread!

For some reason, I've been having a yearning to bake. Back in the day (read:before boyfriend), I used to bake all the time out of loneliness spurred on by boredom and a hint of borderline depression. Something in me just wanted to back- cookies, cakes, brownies. Bake, but not eat. For some reason, I was never in the mood to eat what I made, much to the enjoyment of my flatmates. Nowadays, it's almost like I have a more domestic urge to bake. To fill the house with the smell of deliciousness and to warm it up with the heat of the oven, sharply contrasting to the weather outside.

I am reading this other blog at the moment by a friend from back in Highschool who has themed hers around food. (check it out at here if you're curious). And its good- so many delicious recipes I will never be able to make (esp. grilled fruit due to Scotland's lack of both fruit and proper BBQ grills). The most recent one was how to make bread.

My grandma used to be the bread queen about 15 years back, and I always remember her setting bowls of dough in front of the fire to raise. Her bread was absolutely delicious and filled with delicious ingredients like beer. Then my mom begged Santa for a bread machine, so for a while we had fresh bread in our house (at least until we ran out of the free bread dough packets and my mom was too lazy to buy more). But the bread making process, at either Grandma's or Mom's was always an Autumn/Winter activity and always triggers memories of scarves, wood burning fires, the smell of smoke in the air, and the feeling of rain just moments away.

So I got down to it. Bought me some yeast, flour, and then thought, 'eh, what the hell, I'll use up that Cardamom too and make cookies'. And a Cardamom breakfast bread. I know, I kinda go overkill, but I just spoke to Pappa Bear and he will be stopping by, so I can unload some of this off on him.

So I have my ingredients all laid out in front of me. Suddenly, I hear what sounds like someone throwing pebbles on our window. Nope, justTORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR being hurled by the wind against the glass. Perfect time to start baking. Even though all the recipes are in cup measurements and the UK uses weight measurements (what?!?! Add 500 grams sugar? What that heck is that?) I just make it up- added fun and challenge. Besides, I figure it's all about ratios afterall, so I'll add one tea cup of flour, guestimate 1/2 tea cup, 1/4 tea cup....I'm sure it will be fiiiiiiiiiine.

Now the house is filled with fresh baked deliciousness, I'm about to start in on breakfast bread, and I'm going out clubbing later tonight.

Baking and clubbing....good times!

Thursday 9 October 2008

Have you ever noticed how the universe and buses seem to conspire against you when you just happen to have a moment of laziness?

I don't know about you, but this always seems to happen to me. There's somewhere I need to go and I can either walk or take the bus. Walking would take about 15 minutes- not bad at all, unless it happens to be pissing down rain, or I'm in heels, or I just feel I can't be bothered. So I'll go stand at the bus stop. Oh look, a bus should be coming in 3 minutes. So much faster to take the bus. Then 3 minutes go by. Then another 3. And another. Finally 10 minutes have passed and there is no sight of the bus.

By now I'm pretty annoyed because I know that if I had just sucked it up and walked, I would have probably have been where I wanted to go by now. So now I can either continue to wait for the bus, all the while knowing that I am going to be arriving later and later, or just start walking there and hope that I can walk faster than the bus can drive. Will the waiting for the bus now take more than 15 extra minutes? Should I just walk? Walking does burn calories. Oh, but I've waited this long, I'm sure the bus will be here shortly. And then there will be traffic. Which means I'll get there 5 minutes late. Or maybe if I just walked really fast I would burn off twice as many calories and beat the bus.

Naturally, the bus then comes along and I end up arriving at where I'm supposed to be at the exact same time that I probably would have arrived if I had walked.

Monday 6 October 2008

So I had a sudden thought the other day while sitting in the back seat of Scottie's newish car (aka the one his brother gave his after getting an even newerish one from Grandpa who can now no longer see). We were trying to navigate back from Po's (aka Scottie's brother who is in the Edinburgh Police Force) and in order to do so, had to enter one roundabout, quickly take the second exit to immediately enter a second roundabout, to then take an immediate left out into some more swoopies and loops. Seriously, the thing would have been SO much easier and made SO much more sense if these British people believed in the linear logic of 4-way stops.

Anyway, just as we were entering this insane loopy, roundabout nonsense, I was chatting to Poppa Bear (aka the Dad) about the differences in writing papers in the UK verses the US. In the US, I was taught a very linear and straight forward formula for essays: the 5 paragraph essay. This formulaic method of (Intro+Thesis) x(1st paragraph of proof to prove Thesis) x (2nd paragraph to prove Thesis) x (3rd paragraph to prove Thesis) + Conclusion = essay. You introduced your topic, made the claim you were out to prove, and gave evidence of proof. Done. Not so much in the UK. The UK is a lot more tentative about everything and operates under the idea that nothing is true. Therefore, when writing an essay, you have to propose your thesis as oppose to state it, and suggest how your proposition might be correct, while also making sure to mention that you are aware of all the other arguments that exist which might counter your own idea.

The cat is hungry because it was locked in a closet all day.

There are many theories about why the cat is hungry. While some have argued that the cat's hunger might be due to the cat having missed out on dinner the previous night, this paper will suggest that the real reason the can is hungry is because it was locked in a closet all day. However, it also recognises that there might have been additional factors which contributed to the cats hunger.

You get there eventually, but it's a twisty, convoluted way that could have been avoided if you were allowed to be direct. Just like their damn roads!

Is this further insight to the British brain? Can you understand a culture better based on their road planning and engineering? Should I just finish this port already and go to bed?

People, as much as you like your little roundabouts, they are USELESS, do NOT facilitate traffic, and only help more people get hit by cars. Fricken own up and adopt the stop sign...there ain't nothing wrong with thinking STRAIGHT.

Friday 3 October 2008

Have you ever noticed that wonderful things happen when you're in a wonderful frame of mind? After the aftermath of Black Sunday, I pulled myself up, started thinking positively again, and got myself back into that optimistic frame of mind where things would go well and could definitely be worse. After all, I still had a form of employment (temping is sporadic, but at least it pays and is perfect until I get my Visa in December), I have an amazing, loving boyfriend, don't have to pay rent, get to live in a fantastic city, and have wonderful friends- pretty damn lucky. So it's even more fantastic when good things happen. For instance, my mobile.

Now, ever since I got back to the UK, the techo-nerd in me has had a bad case of mobile phone envy. It seems like everyone here has these super sleep, awesome phones. I had this:
Which don't get me wrong, was an awesome little phone. It had a flashlight! It's battery could last a week! It was the simplest thing every...but naturally, I wanted something a bit more. Something with colour, or that could take pictures, or have neat ring tones. But alas, having one wasn't exactly necessary since this little guy did a great job, and I really didn't the funds to spend on soothing my techo-gadget desires. But then last week, my friend up and just gives me this sexy little number:
WHOA! For free! Here sister's contract was upgraded and with that came a new phone. So her sister gave it to her, and she has no use for it and gave it to me! The only catch was that it was locked to a network. I did a lil internet investigating and found that LOADS of people had bought this type of phone either over the internet or from friends, only to find it locked. They went to the service provider who said that they couldn't unlock it, that they had to be paying members of the service, and that it was expensive - like over £50 for the company to unlock it. CRAP!!! In the words of one of the online forums complaining about this problem 'you just got yourself an expensive paperweight.' So close...and yet...so far. But I just had to try, so I took it to a sketchy phone unlocking place, where the nice Middle Eastern man gave it a quick glance and said'£15'. WHAT? People online were complaining of spending over £50 to get it unlocked. It sounded too good to be true...but it WASN'T! So now I am the proud owner of an awesome phone that fills all my nerdy needs and only had to pay £15 for it....but the weekend wasn't over yet.

Today was another perfectly autumnal day. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, with a cold icy breeze blowing down from the north, and Barbie and I decieded to play tourists and visit the palace. I've been in Edinburgh on and off for the past 4 years and have never visited the Palace, which is still a working palace where the Queen spends a few week every summer before vacationing in Balmoral to the north. The palace was lovely and full of fun history tidbits, and after walking the palace gardens and breathing in the euphoric aroma of woodsmoke wafting through the air, Barbie and I headed up the Royal Mile to an awesome shop that was unfortunately closing down. The shop is like this hippie new age place that sells everything from crystal pendants, to tarot cards, to buddah statues, to books on meditation, witchcraft, and herbology. And this sale was more than AWESOME.

I have this little obsession with labradorite...and lo and behold, they had loads, and it was all over 50% off. How could I not? Sales this good just don't happen every day! I got a square pendant like this one, but much richer blue. And of course I had to have the earrings as well that sorta look like these, and, well, I just couldn't help it...I caved in and got a ring too...then I stopped. I really don't have the funds for impromptu jewellery spending, but they lady was practically giving these gems away. The total cost for all three pieces would have come to £110, aka over $200! But, she let me walk away with all of them for the sweet price of £40. I figured that's only one days of work....bad, bad Shady, I know, but early Christmas pressie for me. YOU NEVER get cheap labadorite like this. I figured it was another sign.

I don't know if it was just good luck or good karma, but either way, this combination of weather, autumnal ambiance, techo goodies, and my favourite cheap jewllery, and my honey bought me dinner tonight....totally doesn't get better than this! Black Sunday? So passé!

Wednesday 1 October 2008

Things have been rather heavy on here lately, so I thought I'd try to turn the mood around. Today was my last day working for the NHS, and even though I will once again be thrown into the unemployment ring until more temp jobs arise, I woke up with a very happy heart. The sun was shining, the air was clear and crisp, and you could feel the changing seasons. It was a perfectly (and one of my favourite words) autumnal day. So nice that I decided to walk to work, even though it meant walking for 15 minutes in high heels.

Along the way, I got the chance to let my mind wander. Scottie is finally taking some vacation time from work, and he and I are going to head North for some Scottish exploring. This got me to thinking about travel and the way people view their experiences abroad. Some base it all on entertainment. I've met a fair handful of travellers in hostels who base their opinions on a city or even country based on how many clubs there are, how cheap the drinks are, and how many nights in a row they were completely inebriated. Then there are those there for the scenery. They take loads of photos, but when asked what the city or country was like, all they can talk about is the architecture and landscape.

Now I would consider myself fairly well travelled. I tried my best to visit all my friends studying in mainland Europe my year abroad in the UK, spent only hours sleeping in grungy, dirty hostels in order to catch early cross country trains, and know how to live out of only a school backpack for two weeks. For me, while night life and scenery add extra flavour to a new place, I find the real heart of a city lies in human interaction- how people respond to complete strangers, their willingness to help others, their social implements, and how their systems help or hinder people.

Which brings me to why I love Scotland so much. While it boasts fantastic scenery, great activities, and good night life, it's the kindness factor that constantly uplifts my spirits. I know this is biased because I haven't spent 2 years every city or country, but having lived for years in both Northern and Southern California, I still find Scotland to have the largest kindness factor I've encountered so far.

My first experience with this was two years ago. My boyfriend and I were trying to get to sleep, as most normal people would at 2:00 am, when we were harshly awoken by a loud voice outside. 'Yer all right, pal? Hey, hey, yer all right? Is this yer flat? Hey- do ye live 'ere? You got to get up, ken, if this is no yer flat, you got to get up.' It finally occurred to me that someone had passed out drunk on the stoop adjoining ours. But rather than let the guy freeze to death, this random stranger passing by woke him up, stayed up talking to him for a while, and then called him a cab to take him home once he got him conscious enough. I was in shock. I had never heard of anyone going out of their way to help a drunk person- heck, back in PB, drunk people were falling around all over the place and everyone just pretended they didn't exist. From then on, I kept noticing small but kind efforts being made throughout the city; people helping old ladies in wheelchairs navigate rough pavement, strangers giving up their spaces on a cramped train for a mother and child, locals stopping on their way to and from work to help tourists with maps without even being asked for help, and strangers having a chat at bus stops or grocery store queues for the sake of just being friendly and passing the time. And these small acts of kindness rub off. A few months ago, I was walking down to the city centre with a friend and noticed a man scrambling around in the middle of a busy street trying to pick up a mess of fallen papers. Shady of yester-year would have felt bad for the guy, but carried on her merry way. But seeing one person join in the scramble to help this guy prompted me to join in as well, and with in a minute, there were 4 random people helping this man rescue his stack of papers from the street. The look of gratitude on his face was priceless, and I had a glowing feeling inside for the rest of the day.

I know that these acts of kindness are happening all over, but until I moved here, I never really saw any of them taking place. So everyone keep your eyes out and do your best to make sure that your city is well up on its kindness factor- it really impresses the tourists!

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