Stress in the City

Hello people. Sorry for the delay. I'll try and update this thing more often b/c I know how eager you all are to hear about my extremely exciting life. I heart sarcasm.

So not much has happened since the disastrous spill a few weeks ago. Oh wait, no, that's a lie-my knee's scabbed over and I can walk properly now. It's still bothering me a bit though, so I think I may have to see the doctor. Thumbs up to that.

On another note, I've been effing stressed over my boxes , both of which were sent over a month ago, both of which hold my art supplies/bedding/dvd's/and my beloved Rosetta Stones, and BOTH of which are M.I.A. I've been told that I may not get them for another 2 months, so to put it bluntly-I want to cop a bitch. Not only will I have to endure several more weeks worth of pain-stakingly uncomfortable sleep, but I have to buy new art supplies-EXPENSIVE art supplies. Why it should take USPS 3 months to ship an express delivery is beyond me, but what I do know is that I will never rely on the mail again. NEVER. DID YOU HEAR THAT USPS? GO EFF YOURSELF.

Sorry.

Speaking of annoyances, the thing that bothers me most about the UK is the lack of help. No matter how hard you try to figure something out, nobody can lend a helping hand. So, for example, in my auto cad class at uni, if I ask the professor how to do something (which he's being paid for mind you), he can't tell me. He WON'T tell me rather. I'm beginning to re-think this whole "school" thing b/c of this, and am feeling like maybe working for someone in the field would benefit me a bit more. At least I'd learn more, and I'd be getting paid...

Ok, so on to bigger and better things. I went out for Halloween this weekend, and have never been so hungover in my life. I don't know if it's b/c I mixed liquors, or if it's b/c I have barely gone out/drank since being here, or if it's just b/c I drank too much (which I will deny...naturally), but I woke up Sunday morning to a battle zone. All of my drawers were open, a pair of gloves I've never seen before were on my floor, and all the lights were on...? Luckily I didn't manage to lose anything, other than my dignity. Oh wait, no, scratch that-I actually DID lose something...100 pounds. And not of weight, mind you, b/c if that were the case I'd be really freaked out. Especially since there were mysterious black gloves on the floor... But getting back to the money, I took a cab home, and I guess I gave the cabbie 100 pounds...? Seriously, Jess, what were you thinking? Clearly you weren't you moron... But I've basically concluded that I'm never going out again, although, as you and I both know, I'll probably go out this weekend....

What else, what else? Oh, well the other day some english guy ran up to me on the street and told me that I was beautiful and blah blah blah...and then, I THINK, an accomplice of his tried to rumage through my purse... Quite the modern day Artful Dodger or whatever. I suppose I will never really know what his intentions were, b/c nothing was missing from my bag (although things were moved around), but if a random guy named Peter ever comments on your looks and your outfit, I suggest clutching on to your possessions for dear life. Especially if that possession is your first born child, or something of extreme worth and value (random...). He's a ruthless son of a biatch that Peter is. I mean, seriously-it's one thing to disrupt my fast paced stride, but to then try and either 1) go on a date with me and/or 2) steal my wallet makes me sick.

Le sigh.

Funny enough, later that same day this Spanish guy in my neighborhood, who can never seem to 1) leave me alone and 2) catch a hint, started asking me about some guy named Charlie. The conversation went a little something like this:

Spaniard: Excuse me

Me: WHAT?

Spaniard: Do you like Charlie?

Me: WHAT? (with even more sass then before)

Spaniard: Charlie?

Me: WHAT???

Spaniard: Charlie means coke.

Me: What...?

Spaniard: If you ever need coke, let me know.

Me: (Cricket Noises).

Keeping in mind that our "talk" is a bit blurry to me, and that other things were said and whatnot, I'm a bit distressed. Not so much that I have a creepy stalker who's into drugs than the fact that I look like I do coke...a "coke whore" if you will. The bags under my eyes are from lack of sleep (thanks to usp EFFING s), not substance deprivation, ok?

This country's weird yo.

Ok I think that's it for now...I must be off to work.

Jess

F.M.L

Ello Ello.

I'm writing to you today not as the healthy/active girl that you both know and love, but as a gimp. Cripple. Fool, perhaps. What ever you'd like to call it, I've been hurt. Hurt bad.

How did this happen, you ask? Well, it's not like I was running really slow or anything in darkness. And it's not like a bike chain managed to wrap itself around both of my ankles, forcing me down within a matter of mili-seconds, and leaving me curled in the fetal position for a bit longer than necessary. In the middle of the road.

...Or was it...?

Yes folks, this traumatic event I've just described is, in fact, what happened to me last night, and to be perfectly blunt, I was stunned, confused, and p.o'd to the max-so much so, in fact, that I was tempted to yell "PORQUEEEEE" at the top of my lungs. I held back though, which is a good thing b/c had I actually gone ahead with it, I'd probably have to re-think my life a bit.

Anywho, I had to limp around London for 40 minutes afterwards (whilst silently damning the wrath of God) in an attempt to get back home, and hide my face in shame. And maybe cry a little... Don't judge me.

While my left knee's in pretty bad shape, you should have seen what I did to the bus lane...not. Aside from leaving a trail of blood/embarrassment, there's really not much that I could have done since the bus lane=concrete and my knee=flesh+bones. Ouchies.

But whatever, I'm coping. No need to send flowers or chocolates or pizza or anything...that would just be crazy and completely over the top...and appreciated...

As inconvenient as it may be, I've found that this "injury" has been a blessing in disguise. I was supposed to go out tonight/spend money that I don't have on bad, bad things, and now that I've been limping around/can't wear heels, I won't be doing that, meaning the money that I would have spent in a matter of minutes will manage to see the light of day for at least another 24hours. I thank you for that lord, and while your lessons may be painful and incomprehendible at first, I always manage to benefit from them. Today, I've learned to prioritize, b/c if I don't, I fear I'll get hit by a bus next time around. You've also made me symmetrical once again, as now the scars from this spill will match the scars from my last big spill (cough kindergarden) on my right knee. I salute you.

Jessica

London Calling

Hello out there in cyber land. A special hello to Matt Sundby, who's most likely the only one reading this.

Ok SO a ton to talk about since my big leap across the pond. First off, my apartment (or flat) is just adorable...I wuv it. I'll upload some pics once I have the chance since I don't feel like explaining it in written word...too complex to describe really...which is code for me just not wanting to. The area I'm in is really great as well...apparently it's "posh", something that Jonna and I realized only yesterday after exploring the town of Hampstead (which is right next door). I basically want to live in Hampstead, end of conversation.

Secondly, I got a job! Woot woot. At Anthropologie too, which is an obsession of mine (it's THREE stories here...cwazy). Hopefully they like me. And hopefully I get free stuff...just kidding. But seriously. Somewhat of a funny story though, during the interview, which was a group interview as the store is only just opening in the UK, we were all asked what our proudest moment was. Every one else dubbed a moment at work (something like, "one day I sold a shirt to a bitchy customer") as their proudest moment. Not me. No. I decided to talk about how surviving my mom's death was/is my proudest achievement, since it shaped who I am today. And then I almost cried/got choked up/had that quivery voice. And everyone was silent. How embarrassing. I wonder, though, if saying I'm most proud of myself is cocky in some way...

Anywho, I start work on the 3rd, only I don't know my schedule since I have NO IDEA WHAT MY CLASS SCHEDULE IS LIKE. Effing A man.

I don't start school for another two weeks...I think. That place (cough Chelsea College of Art & Design) is driving me crazy...it's nearly impossible to get a hold of any faculty/find an answer to a question. I have no idea what classes I'm taking, when I start, etc. etc., and in all honesty, it makes me want to hurt someone. Specifically someone who works for the school. Maybe I shouldn't write that down, on a public blog of all places. I take it back...I guess...

Anywho, I think that's it for now...I'll get those pics up of my flat asap.

Besos,

Jessica