guanin

Noooooo! And why must you assume that I have patience and thank me for it?!

Okay, I'm not actually that broken up about it. I'm just high with post-exam craziness and 568ml of cider running though my system, though I am so nowhere near drunk since I had some fish and chips and that filled up my stomach, but since I am naturally giggly and do not want to study, I am here. Though I do have to study. And the giggliness had just gone away. Damn.

Why is the internet so slow right now? Oh, great, LJ is being slow. Just when I want to do stuff. Or rather not do stuff. Or maybe it is my connection because other stuff is taking forever, too. And why did a Milo page suddenly appear? Did I click on that?

Still not as cool as Claude.

I am thinking of going to Oxford this weekend, but not sure when. The cheapest day is Saturday, but chances are I might be a bit knackered with the pub outing the night before since it's the last exam ever! So not that great day. I don't understand why ticket prices for the National Rail vary so much from date to date.

I am presently sawing through a poster tube with my very unsharp scissors because it's too long for my big suitcase. And it's really hard. Which is good because I know the posters will be safe, but damn that's murder on my hand. I spent half an hour on it yesterday and didn't even get halfway through. I got it at the Tate Britain, which is a neat, little art museum with a whole gallery dedicated to JMW Turner, one of my favourite painters ever. I might go again later on since they rotate the artwork regularly (and will probably get another poster).

I really want a sewing machine so I can start working on that used jacket I bought. I wonder if mom's still works. It hasn't been used since I was nine, so maybe not. Never mind that I don't actually remember how to use it. If mom could make clothes from scratch, then so can I. Eventually. I really want to design my clothes instead of having to depend on what I find in the shops. I should have taken that free sewing class last year.

I know exactly what bills I took today, have perfect recollection of the change people gave me, but there's still cash missing. Of course there is, you dolt, you topped up the Tube card!

There's absolutely no point to that story, other than I wasted $4.50 by going to the famous Portobello Road market where I found nothing but antiques that I don't have a fancy house for and surprisingly ugly clothes (although there was this gorgeous plaid cloth, but it was 30 quid per cut and they were made of wool and I still don't know if I'm allergic to the stuff But gorgeous.). So to make myself feel better since I was ridding hard on the weepy side of depression by that point (do I not like big crowds of people), I stopped by Camden Town, were everything is wonderful and fantastic and I spent too much money again, but this time I did get bargains, unlike last time where I three away 10 pounds by not buying two jackets together and apparently, as I discovered today to my great distress, threw away another 7 by not looking at every stall first before making a purchase (a sweater I got for 25 is on sale for 18 someplace else *weeps*). In my defense, that place is huge. Camden Lock market is a maze! A maze! Prices range all over the place from cheap for London to omg are you crazy I'm not paying this! There's this cool looking shirt I found at a place that seemed to be second hand because there was only one copy of each item, but the really flimsy shirt cost 29. A long sleeve shirt cost 35. I can buy a jacket for 35! Although not at that really cool Goth place where they have clothes that look form the 19th century except in gothic style (duh). I didn't even bother asking the price for the one I wanted. If that number on the price tag of the one next to it had been in dollars, I would have had to do some major soul searching before even considering it. *cries* Damn you, London! Why must you show me such pretty things and then snatch them away?

I am so tired. I feel sleepy and sun beaten even though I saw very little sun and this high up on the planet you hardly feel it, but I think the dehydration and lack of food might have something to do with it. I can barely keep myself up in this chair. I've been walking way too much these past few days.

Why am I still thinking of that jacket?! Ah!! *goes to search the internets*

Studying? What's studying?

And I do mean a little hail shower. the hail was tiny. Diminutive. Absolute no more than three millimeters across. It was almost cute. At first, I thought it was rain, but then a girl in front of me on the street stretched out her hand and I saw some land on her black jacket sleeve. I'd never seen hail that tiny. Well, I've only seen hail once before, really, in México. never in Illinois, oddly enough. But that hail had been inch wide chucks that attacked us and left me cursing hail for the rest of my life, until now. Seriously, this was just cute. Cute, little hail.

Five inch snowfall wreaks havoc! Temperatures plummet to 20° F! All bus services stopped! Flights grounded! Tube crippled by those pesky overground stations! Schools closed! Uni classes canceled! Students pray that snow may continue! And no one bothers to clean the roads!

Well, the road in front of my building looks clean now, though that might be meltage because we're slightly above freezing now, but the sidewalk still looks dirty. No, they didn't clean the sidewalks either. And I'm in central London. I struggled all of yesterday not to fall on my ass. It wasn't even that cold. That 20° thing was after midnight. During the day it was 30° F/-1° C. This whole thing is just silly.

( Snippets from yesterday's Yahoo! News )
And some ( pics )

Seriously, I love London. Today the high was 45. Tomorrow: 43. It will dip later in the week, though, with the atrociously low temperature of... 38.

*ducks rotten fruit and pointy objects*

Sorry. I don't mean to rub it in or anything, but this is precisely one of the reasons why I came here. Two dollars for broccoli? No problem. Six for a tiny, little tv dinner? Sure, why not? As long as I don't have the skin peeled off my face as soon as I step outside and my fingers freeze into slender ice cubes and my legs don't stiffen into poles so that I'm ambling down the street like someone who had knee surgery instead of walking properly. So tonally do not want to do that ever again. as much as you complain about the cold here, it's nothing. Locals are shocked when I convert -10 (the lowest high I've been in) Fahrenheit into Celsius (-23, much more impressive sounding).

In other not so amazing news, apparently my classes don't start until the 10th. My flight leaves PR on the 3rd because I thought I started the 5th. *head desk* So I don't know if I have enough miles to change the flight to a later date without paying or if I'd have to pay anyway or if I should do it at all since I have two essays due the 12th, but my grandparents/ aunt/uncle are going there the 3rd, too, and they'll find out that my classes start the 10th because it will inevitably come up and I think people are going to insist that I stay and I do want to, but the essay is worrying me because the house is really distracting. Argh. Seriously, what is it with me and run on sentences?

I'm dreading seeing my two (ex) friends again, though one of them I can avoid completely. I really don't want to see her now. She's too much of hypocrite. She loves to give suggestions (which sometimes are no more than veiled orders) on how to rearrange your life, but she admits that it pisses her off to be citied. I really don't feel like dealing with that.

Here's the ( Senate House Library )

I completely forgot about it until I saw my f-list. I'm so disconnected from the holidays over here. De pura chiripada (shoddy translation: out of pure coincidence), I bought a turkey sandwich before getting back. It had stuffing and cranberry sauce. Totally unplanned.

I went down to Regent Street today. Why do I insist on going shopping while in the midst of nearly uncontrollable coughing? I must be insane. Speaking of insane, I also have the unfortunate habit of not buying a shirt I like so I must obsess over it for days afterwards. Okay, this shirt wasn't that great. The one I really wanted was the one they didn't have in my size even though I saw it a month ago, only I didn't bother trying it on then. I ended up getting the Tube back because I was so tired. Must stop pushing legs when they can't take it anymore. My only purchase of the day: sugar free Halls with lovely artificial cherry flavoring. Oh yeah.

I keep forgetting to say something. Oh, right. I've decided that despite charging 35-40 pounds for a single shirt, the Topshop isn't really expensive considering that they have fabulous looking clothes. I found it on a list of bargain shops in London and scoffed. How naive I was. I forgot that this is London, home of some of the finest designer shops in the world, where they feel free to charge you 90 pounds for a slinky top that covers almost nothing without shame. I made the mistake of going into one of these shops today, took a look at two of the price tags, casually placed the shirt back on the rack and slipped out of there pretending like the reason I was leaving after having been inside for only thirty seconds was because I had a cough attack and not because I'm poor and that shirt is worth my food budget for three weeks. Or is that four weeks? Worse!

I took a picture at some of the decorations. I meant to do the same with Oxford Street, but my legs couldn't take it anymore, so I'll have to do those later. Apparently, (  Spiderman decided to do the decorations this year )

I was in the kitchen, and a girl couldn't find her soup in the fridge. I hoped this had stopped, but no. I've had a sandwich and two yoghurts stolen. Other people have had milk, also sandwiches, a bottle of champagne, Philadelphia cheese stolen, and those are just the ones I know of. We have only one small fridge per floor, which is really annoying. I wish they'd let us keep one in our rooms. Like I could afford to buy one, anyway.

Meanwhile, I got flamed today for the first time in at least four years, probably five. I don't remember how long it's been since I stopped posting at ff.net. I don't really care, confidence-wise, but the immaturity really bugs me. If you don't like the fic, either give me constructive crit, or don't read it. Geez.

The temperature in Chicago: 41.
In London: 61.
*giggles in glee* I love living here.

On a side note, I had to keep myself from geeking out when I saw a bunch of coppers yesterday guarding a demonstration of I don't know what. It involved wearing the Guy Fawkes masks from V For Vendetta. The police just look so completely different here with their yellow raincotas and their constable hats and I've watched Hot Fuzz too many times. Way too many times. Most everything else has already settled into every day normalcy, but this still gets me.

I went to a pub. Two of them, actually. No, I'm not drunk. Honestly. I did have a pint and a half of cider, which had like 5.6% alcohol or something and even that little managed to get the floor moving under me when I stood up to go to the loo (see, I'm already speaking British), but I'm fine now, just really giggly, but that's normal for me anyway. I did have to read one of the subject lines on my flist three times to understand it, but I'm not drunk. I may have been before, though. I'm rambling, aren't I?

So I met people. That's good. I may go out again tomorrow with these people, but I'm not sure yet, so we'll see how it goes. I'm tired, but I can't stop grinning. Oh, god.