The 5 year itch?

This month marks five years of permanently living in the UK for me. Not a momentous milestone compared to the tenure of some other expats I know, but it feels big to me regardless.

When I came over in 2007, I remember our plan was for me to spend five years in the North East after which time Will and I would set sail for a new life in America. It didn't register to me then that I might not actually WANT to move back yet after five years. Surely there was no way I would stay in the UK longer than I had to, right?

The thing about me is that I am an extremely restless person by nature. I don't really sit still for more than five years at a time. I like new experiences more than new achievements. That's one reason why we moved to London last year - I was feeling overwhelmed by the need to have an adventure but at the same time I didn't want to do it without Will by my side. I still may give up cities and jobs easily, but when it comes to my family and friends, nowadays I generally prefer to keep the "good uns" around. (Against their will even if must be - thank goodness for Facebook eh?)

The last year or so living in London has been fantastic. I don't feel like I need to move on from this city just yet, but I have a feeling that the restlessness will settle back in eventually - sooner rather than later. It's inevitable really.

I think I was just born impatient. I have this (made up) memory of kicking the hell out of my mom from inside her uterus, shouting "are we there yet lady?" at the top of my prenatal lungs.

And yes, I realise impatience isn't glamorous nor attractive, but I wouldn't change myself too much in this area either. Despite the fact it can be a bit annoying, the internal drive I have for continually doing new things, learning more, finding new places...it's made me pretty damn brave over the years. I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself for the right reason. I'm not scared to risk everything for something I am passionate about. I don't really mind starting over as I've done it so many times already.

And most importantly, I am pretty sure the journey is more important than the destination in life, so as long as I get things more right than wrong, it will all be good in the end right? At least, that's what I always tell myself. ;)

Goodbye Mini!

When we realised this summer that we'd put less than a 1,000 miles on the Mini since moving to London, the decision was made to sell our sweet little car. Today we signed her over to her new owner, and it felt really weird.

Now, I haven't really driven much at all since moving here in 2007 so for me it isn't AS difficult to imagine not owning a car anymore, but at the same time I can't think of any long stretch in my entire 36-years where I was living in a household that DIDN'T have a car. Yeah sure, maybe we didn't have a WORKING car, but we still had a junker out front at all times nonetheless. So the realisation that we don't have an automobile any more feels a bit odd. And freeing, but mostly odd.

For Will it's even more disconcerting. He had a brief car-less stint during his RAF days 30 years ago, but that's about it. Back then he hitch-hiked everywhere, but sadly I don't think he'll be doing much of that these days as he lacks the uniform and youthful stupidity. He loved this car, or at least loved to moan about this car. Within minutes of signing her over, Will was enroling in a car club called ZipCar. Which is fine and a great concept, but I'm guessing we'll use it two or three times and that's it... we just genuinely don't need a vehicle anymore now that we live in one of the most accessible cities in the world. It's rather freaking cool.

PS I plan to start telling everyone we are car-free because we are doing our part to save the environment. Sure, it's more of an unintentional side effect of our car-free life than an active choice, but I might as well get props where I can.

Life is good, so go on and hate me... :)

It's been eons since I last wrote on this blog! So much has changed yet so much is the same.

We live quite happily in London now - moved here in August 2011. Shockingly, I am still with the same company. The other half and I are still in love and, quite sickeningly, seem to ACTUALLY like each other more and more with each passing day. To complete our family, we have adopted a "fur baby" cat named Maisie who only has three legs, half a tail and a rather hilarious personality.

Our life has sorta turned all perfect in a "dysfunctional romcom" way.  In the movie version of us, I fancy Anne Hathaway as me and George Clooney as Will, but I would settle for Paul Rudd if pressed. For either of us really.

A lot of our life has remained the same as it was two years ago. We both have some big regrets from our dark and distant pasts. I miss my family and friends in the US insanely. My accent has become a mid-Atlantic mess and apparently I'm sounding posher by the day since moving south. But honestly, we know we are fortunate and we are humbled by all the good we have in our lives. I hope one day to right past wrongs and strive to be the best person I am capable of being....in the mean time I am happy, healthy and on the right path. Life is good and I am not taking that fact for granted. Now go ahead and vomit if I'm making you sick with all this gushing... :P

False Sense of Security....

Warning: Bad language alert.... only read on if you're not easily offended. 

Tonight I was the victim of a sexual assault during my commute home from work.

Wow, that sentence feels very heavy - too heavy. Sexual assault. Was that what it really was?  The law says it is so (if it can be proven). The cop said it was so (if it can be proven). But it wasn't rape and I didn't get hurt physically, so those two words feel overly heavy to me, and weirdly laden with victim's guilt. Was it my fault, did I encourage them, etc. etc. All of that is going through my head right now, but I'm getting ahead of myself here, let me fill you in on the backstory.

I was verbally harassed during my train journey home tonight by a roughly 13 year old boy whilst his two friends urged him on and told him new things to say to me in their native language. Lewd and disgusting things that 13 year old boys shouldn't be saying to a woman of my age, or even at all. As I left the train after enduring about 6 or 7 minutes of this abuse, one of them patted my ass. I know this because a) I felt it and b) when I turned around sharply in response, one of the boys was blaming the other for doing it. They got off the train behind me making some more noise towards me, but I bee-lined up the stairs and out of the station as quickly as possible in fear they would follow me. I saw some Metro ticket checking agents on my way up, but I was too freaked to stop and ask them for help or to report the boys' behaviour.

I walked home and immediately broke into tears when I saw my husband behind our safely closed front door. In an instant after explaining what had happened, Will had his keys in hand and was rushing off to the station to find these boys himself (teens often hang out in front of the station for some stupid reason). Thank goodness that Will found them already embroiled in a ticket dispute with police officers when he got there or else tonight might have ended with my husband in cuffs. He was definitely that angry. When he rang me to have me come down to ID the boys, I thought he was going to tell me something much worse... but thankfully he was just solving my immediate problem which was trying to find the flipping police's phone number via google. (Seriously, when you're really pissed off, even googling is difficult)

Long story short, the police now have my details, the boys deny verbally harassing me and the one boy who would admit to touching me says it was 'an accidental brushing'. I've told the police I want to press charges but I couldn't positively identify which one was the one that actually touched me. It's possible that the CCTV footage on the train will give them something to go by but I'm not very hopeful. I agreed with the coppers that I would not have the boys arrested right then as long as the police took the kids back to their parents in the squad car. If the CCTV footage turns up something useful, I'll press charges but otherwise I will have to be consoled that the incident is now on record and the parents are definitely going to be notified. Maybe it will scare them into thinking twice before bugging another woman... maybe, but I doubt it.

I am calm now, but at first I was too shocked to know what to do. And I was so freaked out on the metro that survival mode had kicked in. I was trying to be tough, funny, ridiculous - anything to get the boy to go back to his original seat and leave me alone. What I wasn't doing was paying attention to their faces! I couldn't look in their eyes, only at the floor and out the windows. I can't even be sure which of the three was the one saying the nasty things versus the ones just laughing and egging him on in another language. All I can remember is their very unique jackets and their spiky hair. I think my mind just checked out after a few minutes.... common I suppose.

I kept thinking that either they were going to follow me home and (if I was lucky) maybe they were only after my iPhone or wallet. I kept internally debating whether or not I could talk my way out of the situation if they didn't let up, whether I could harm them more than they could me, whether or not I had been wrong in not immediately chastising them and it was my fault that they kept on harassing me because I didn't act disgusted enough. And I was also angry at the fact that the other 2 or 3 people in our train car didn't seem to want to make eye contact with me despite my desperate attempts to look at them and find an out from this little nymphomaniac wannabe who saddled up next to me. Here's a brief snippet of the things which were said (I'm leaving out some of the lewder bits):

Boy: "My friend, he fancies you. He wants to fuck you."

Me, nervously: "I'm old enough to be both of your mothers twice over, no thank you."

Him: "He wants to lick your fadge. Don't you want him?"

Me, faking a laugh: "Very funny. He'd have to grow about 10 inches in height and some body hair before he'd be my type and even then I'd never be interested". Insert fake smile again.

Him: "But my friend wants you so much, hey look at me..." blah blah blah.

I think what angered me the most is the fact that I have successfully told middle aged drunk men at the bars to "fuck off and leave me alone" on a night out, but when being harassed by three rinky dink brats on my evening commute, I felt completely helpless. I guess that I am not prepared to be harassed in that environment, and especially not by children. It just really really paralysed me for some reason. And now I'm really fucking mad at myself that I took a coward route with it and tried to laugh things off in the moment instead of standing up for myself - what was I thinking?! I know I'm the victim here, but I am a STRONG woman and I can't believe I let three little kids upset me so much.

But you see, all that was going through my head in the moment was something my sister told me about her 12 year old son recently. She was saying how that my nephew has gotten so strong at only 12 that she knows he could physically harm her if he wanted to, and she's damn well glad he's too scared of her still to ever do so. "He could take me Julie, seriously he's that strong" is what she told me. So when the first of the boys sat right next to me and started saying those lewd things the first thing I thought was "I bet I couldn't stop them from taking me". I knew they weren't going to do it but I couldn't get that out of my head. Over and over. And I think that was the moment I lost my (false?) sense of security for the first time since moving here.

The police were amazing, my husband was amazing and I'm genuinely proud of myself for not just letting it slip past without report. Too many boys and men get away with harassing women in this world and only by reporting it can I wage my own little protest. Now I just have to watch my back when I ride the train every night, in case they get on it with me again. :(

On the bright side, I now know yet another British slang word for female genital. Thanks for expanding my vernacular you little bastards.

Missing the wee ones....

Today is my niece Hannah's third birthday, and tomorrow is my nephew Everett's first birthday. My family are having a huge party for the two of them at a local park today, and I'm super sad that I cannot attend. Some aspects of expatriate life really suck, and missing out on special events like this is one of them.

I spent the better half of three weeks with these two wee ones during my summer holiday this year, and it was such a blessing. I already have a fairly strong and long-standing relationship with my eldest nephew Elijah who is 11, but I barely knew the two youngest because I've lived abroad for the last two years. This year's trip allowed me to get to know them both, and it was a real joy.

Hannah is a lovely little princess who fears nothing as far as I can tell. At only three, she's already very girly, quite strongwilled, and wonderfully independent and adventurous. It takes awhile for Hannah to warm up to people, but once she does, she is chatty and fun. Hannah reminds me of everything that is special about being a little girl and of course that means I'll indulge her every whim if allowed to do so. She and I bonded during my trip in a way I didn't expect - I think every third word she spoke was 'Aunt Julie' by the end of my stay (and I only mildly bribed her, I swear!). For the first few weeks after I left, she kept telling my sister that "Aunt Julie's at work"; however I think the fact I'm in the UK is starting to set in: the other day Hammy declared that she "needs" to go to England soon. With Hannah, everything is a "need" - there is no such thing as "want", it's much more serious than just plain old desire to Hannah!

Everett, or Rett for short, has an incredibly pleasant and kind disposition. He is just a lovely, lovely baby... when he's happy at least. When he's pissed off, he sounds like a Veloci-raptor and people cower in fear for miles at the sound of his shrieks. That said, it's rare he gets upset and it's never over trivial matters. Rett really can't be bothered with trivial I think. He does everything at his own pace and on his own terms. You definitely can't trick Rett into doing something he's not keen on, that's for sure - and I love this about him. At one, he's already a discerning and thoughtful person - something most people can take decades to become. He's also the most cuddly baby I've ever been around. Rett just loves to "love on" people. He is most content when curled up in your arms. Considering that his mother's side of the family aren't exactly big on hugging or PDA (including myself), it's incredibly sweet and miraculous that Everett is such a cuddle bear.

I'm so sorry that I can't be there for your party today my lovelies. And it's likely I'll miss many, many more. I pray that when you're older this won't keep us from being close because you mean the world to me. Please remember that I love you so, so much. And the next time I see you, I promise to spoil you rotten - just don't tell Mommy!!

Healthier Living through Vodka

I will now prove to the world that drinking vodka is definitely a key component of healthier living.

(Note I say health-ier not health-y).

Will and I are on the path to healthier living. We’ve recently cut out all sorts of fattening foods, reduced our portion sizes, stopped eating out as much and are preparing more homemade healthy meals at home. I’m even baking all of our bread now using whole grain organic flours & minimal sugars. And yes, we’re cutting back on our intake of alcohol, because – let’s be honest here – alcohol accounts for a large number of the empty calories both of us have been shoving down our gullets the past 18 months.

Not that we’re excessive drinkers. At least not by the British standard, if that counts for anything? Until recently, we were sharing a bottle of wine with most evening meals and hitting the pub for pints once or twice a week. I’ve done the math(s) on this and figured out that each of us have been ingesting about 2,600 extra calories per week on average – without even really getting drunk!

Here are the hard, true facts:

2 large glasses of wine/day x 4 days/week = 1840 calories
4 pints of lager/week = 760 calories

Mind you, I’m not counting any periodic binge drinking in the equation. Not that we do it very often, but there definitely are the occasional mad night outs where one of us downs 2k calories of liquor on a single night… but if I’m throwing it all up the next day, the calories negate themselves on the way back out, right?

So…. 2,600 calories per week = ~371 calories per day. I would have to run about 40 minutes a day – every single day of the week – to offset that caloric intake. Currently I only run 3-4 times per week at 30 minutes a run. And even that takes up too much of my time. So, dammit, I need another solution.

Let’s face it: I’m not going to quit drinking completely. It’s just NOT gonna happen. Or at least not without me becoming a nun and/or crack addict. And I’m not interested in either of those life paths at this point in my career. I mean, I don’t like the associated fashion choices for a start. So dear me, what is a girl to do?!

Enter vodka, my hard liquor of choice.

A large glass (250ml) of dry white wine has about 230 calories. A pint of Premium Lager has about 190 calories. A single vodka & diet coke has, on average, about 55 calories.

Yes, I said 55 calories!

That means there are only 110 calories in a double!!!!!

That means that if I replace the same number of drinks I have on the average week with double vodkas & a nil calorie mixer instead of my normal white wine and lager, I cut over 1200 calories out of my diet each week. SIGN ME UP!

Will and I have decided to give this new approach a go. Additionally, we’re not drinking as frequently as before either, so in theory we should start seeing a change in our weight as a result over the next few months.

And now I have proven that vodka is indeed part of healthier living.

Please note, however, that I have yet to do the maths as to whether or not this is a sustainable option budget-wise given that Absolut is so expensive. One step at a time my friends, one step at a time. I’ll worry about whether or not we can afford the car payment once I’ve proven my theory is correct, preferably over a vodka tonic.

Also, I do recognise that this is no exact science, and I realise there may be flaws in my logic. Just give me a break and pour me another double please?

Adventures in American Bashing

This afternoon I got into a heated conversation right in front of my apartment block with a young American medical student who exited our train at my normal metro stop.

During our train ride, said student was loudly lecturing two fellow train passengers about the glorious US health care system and openly bashing the NHS with totally inaccurate information. He was even stating half-truths about the American system, not just the NHS! One English woman tried to correct his inaccuracies (politely and quietly of course). He treated her like she was stupid and inferred that she didn't know any better because she hadn't lived in a 'capitalist system'. He blatantly stated that if Brits HAD lived in a country like the US, they'd realise how better it was than here in the UK (at the same time admitting he'd only been living here for a few weeks!). The nice English lady got off at the very next stop, and I'm pretty sure that wasn't where she had meant to go. :(

I was absolutely FURIOUS for the entire 15 minutes I had to listen to him go on. Passengers were going to the next train down to avoid him. And honestly, he wasn't a wacko by any means - he was just a cocky spoiled American rich kid trying to spread his abundant 'knowledge and wisdom' to the uninformed British. He basically was a living stereotype and it really upset me.

I told myself I wasn't going to say anything to unless he got off at my stop. I made a promise to myself that if he DID get off at my stop, I'd confront him. This was a bargain I made because I thought it was a safe bet I wouldn't have to say a word. I kept thinking, surely he won't get off at Regent Centre, why would he?!

Fuck. I totally forgot about ASDA. American students in Newcastle love Walmart's UK chain, so of course he was coming to my stop - it's the closest ASDA to where he lives. They sell refried beans and Kraft dinner there. It's an American student mecca. DAMMIT.

As soon as we exited the train, I pounced on him. I said 'you're American, aren't you?' to which he said 'Of course I am, I wouldn't be anything else!'. I asked if I could speak to him about the things he was saying on the train. I corrected his misinformation, told him I thought he should wait til he's lived here for longer and learned more about the NHS to judge it, gave him a 'as a fellow American, I feel I must tell you...' speech, etc. I think I totally freaked the poor kid out and made him feel pretty bad; however I just couldn't ignore him, I HAD to say something. He was visibly offending the British passengers with his nonsense and I don't think he had a clue until I told him so!

Anyway, I'm pretty sure he'll never get off at the Regent Centre stop to go to ASDA ever again for fear of running into that crazy Anglophile American beotch who lives across the street. I never saw someone cross the North Road so quickly before - he was dying to get away after I thanked him for listening to me.

Regardless, I feel good about confronting him, but I also feel a little bit like a bully as well. Watch out people, I think I'm turning into an American basher myself. Bah.

Monkey Management 101

I just read a short and succinct book about delegation called 'The One Minute Manger Meets the Monkey'. I am pretty sure the author thought his audience had the attention span of a 9 year old when he wrote it because every fifth page has only one sentence on it, usually consisting of some sort of management mantra or painfully realistic principle. For example, here are some of the more poignant short attention span catchphrases used in the book:

"The Golden Rule of Management - THOSE WHO HAVE THE GOLD MAKE THE RULES"

"Experience is Not What Happens To You; It's What You Do With What Happens To You"

"Never Let The Company Go Down The Drain Simply For The Sake Of Practicing Good Management"

and my favorite:

"Things Not Worth Doing Are Not Worth Doing Well"

(poor punctuation and odd capitalisation directly transcribed from the book)

Interestingly though, I have found this short read quite helpful. I've identified a couple of bad habits I've exhibited in my recent past both personally and professionally, and I have a couple of decent new strategies for trying to keep other people's monkeys off my back (monkey being an analogy for the 'next move' in any project or activity). It was a worthwhile read, although I was a wee bit turned off by some of the fairly old school management style examples utilised, and also by the author's tendency to spoon feed the lessons to his audience. Despite those shortcomings, I definitely recommend it to anyone else fairly green to direct accountability for leading others and probably also for overburdened soccer moms who need to teach their husband's and/or children to clean up their own messes.

adventures in commuting

Recently I converted into a public transportation princess, taking the Metro and bus everywhere I need to go. There are a lot of pros to this mode of transportation, including but not limited to spending only £50 a month for a bus pass instead of £300-£400 for a car. I also love the fact that I don't have to battle Newcastle traffic behind the wheel but instead wait it out it behind the pages of a good book every morning and night. I've read more books the last 6 weeks than I read the prior 6 months combined. It sort of rocks.

Another happy side effect of using public transportation 5 days a week is that I also get to experience some pretty weird shiznit on a regular basis. Here are a couple examples of recent encounters you might find amusing...

This morning while I was waiting for my bus just outside of Newcastle Central Station, I saw a very bizarre occurrence. A seagull swooped down and placed a tube of lipgloss on the ground 3 feet away from me, squawked and then flew away. Seriously, wtf did a seagull want with lipgloss in the first place?

Yesterday morning at 845am a drunk 19 year old girl passed out drunk in the front of my bus while her friends debated whether or not they were going to drag her drunk ass home yet again or just leave her on the bus to sleep it off. YET AGAIN? As in, being this drunk before 9am is a regular occurrence? Dear me!

Monday on the metro I witnessed a group of 10-year-old girls having a debate about whether or not one of the girl's boyfriends was really gay, or just pretending to be so because he didn't want her to kiss him. Their consensus at the end was that he must really be gay because boys don't say their gay if they're not, and who wouldn't want to kiss little miss as she's, and i quote, 'sexy'... Ten or eleven year old girls having this sort of conversation - seriously my head nearly imploded.

One of my favorite journey-mates is this middle aged transvestite man who periodically gets on our really crowded morning bus cross-dressed to the nines and then instead of facing forward like everyone else does, (s)he stands, facing towards the back, staring blankly backwards at the seated and standing passengers who are all facing frontwards. I love this guy, he really brightens my morning when I see him. I love seeing my British seatmates struggle to discern the most polite way to handle someone facing the wrong direction. Honestly, I really do think the 'facing the wrong direction' part bothers them more than the fact he's wearing a killer woman's business suit with red pumps and a bad wig. Brits don't really care about a person's sexual or wardrobe preferences, but going against the natural order of things on a bus or in queue are really big no nos. Like seriously, I think they'd flog you for jumping in a queue if they didn't have to apologise profusely afterwards.

letting a little 'sunshine' in my life...

These extremely short winter days in England really zap me for some reason. This winter and last I have felt completely and utterly exhausted from late November onwards. Doesn't matter how much sleep I get, I'm constantly tired and when I'm tired, I'm not very pleasant to be around. And let's face it, I don't have many friends here as it is, so I really need to do something about it! Last year this cycle didn't really end until late spring and I anticipate the same again this year. I had never heard of 'Seasonal Affective Disorder' until I moved here, but the more I think about it and study my personal patterns, the more I realise I may be suffering from SAD, and honestly I probably always have but didn't realise the extent of it until I moved to a climate where the winter only allows 7-8 hours of light per day. These 'dark nights' really do exacerbate things a bit!

Will and I both took a Circadian Rhythm test today on the Philips site, and as I expected my results showed that I am much more impacted by these sunless winter days than my darling husband - which partially excuses my periodic moody bitchiness that is worse in the winter.

(Although honestly I can't blame SAD for all of my brattiness because let's just face it - I'm pretty high maintenance full stop and I am the first to admit it. That said, those who know me realise it's much worse when I'm tired, and in the winter I'm tired ALL THE TIME! )

A special thanks to my sister for supporting my stance that it's not ALL my fault by saying: "Yeah I've always thought you are worse in the winter!". Upon reflection, I realise this means she thinks I'm a beotch year-round, but just not as bad in the summertime; however she also admitted she must suffer from SAD year-round because she's never nice, which tickles me to no end. Ah Susie, how I love little pessimistic you.

Anyway, I've just ordered the Lumie alarm clock and I seriously want it to work. The whole theory behind it is that instead of waking you with an alarm, it slowly lights up creating a "false sunrise" and provides you light you so desperately need while also gradually waking you up instead of jolting you with a buzzer. Yes, I realise this sounds gimmicky and stupid, but I'm willing to try anything at this point as it's a long long way until April/May for 'natural' relief of these winter blues.

utterly lazy weekend

We have done nothing this weekend. Nothing of consequence at least. And, oh was a weekend of nothing so wonderful! To recap...

Saturday morning we got out of bed a little after 11am. Yes, 11 am ! Unheard of normally because either my bladder or the children who live upstairs wake us up earlier most weekends. Barely awake, we trudged over to the post office before it closed, where I nearly had a panic attack sending off my passport, marriage certificate and UK Visa off to the US Embassy for passport renewal. (Seriously, the entire walk home from the post office I was like OMG what will I do if it's lost? What will I do?! How can I trust that Royal Mail woman? What if they lose it? My life will be over! Must. Calm. Down).

Anyway after recovering from the post office traume and finishing off my organic fair trade skinny latte (which wasn't much better than the ASDA stuff I brew at home), we walked into Gosforth, bought some magazines and had lunch at the Brandling Arms pub, where we then lazed around and read/drank for several hours. Good food, leather couches, white wine and warmth all for less than £20 - can't beat it. We headed home when it was starting to get dark (which is about 345pm these days!), made supper and pretty much did nothing the rest of the night but watch telly and talk about how disgusting the flat is, making promises of cleaning 'tomorrow'. I think I was in my PJs by 830pm - exciting huh?

Today we slept in until after 10, made a lovely breakfast of poached eggs, fresh-baked baguette and bacon from the Gosforth butcher and caught up on The Daily Show whilst drinking coffee. We've watched 3 movies today - Bottle Rocket (hilarious!), The Escapist (predictably average) and Iron Man (AWESOME, oh and I am so in love with RDJ!). We also did a deep clean of the flat, cooked another meal and basically stayed in the entire time. Boring to many, lovely to us. And cheap! After last weekend's Manchester spending spree I was quite happy to stay in.

Oh, yeah. We watched the latest Simpson episode (or the latest one showing in the UK to be more precise). I just don't see how they keep churning them out so successfully. How in the hell do they keep that show relevant after so many years? It started in 1987 on Tracie Ulman - 21 years ago - and still is funny and modern to this day. And oh, that last sentence just made me feel really old - jeez, 1987 doesn't actually seem that long ago anymore. Ugh.

Only one remotely unpleasant thing to note from the weekend, and really it's nothing big. My current 'trauma' is that my Christmas tree is shedding like MAD. I really think it might have pine-tree alopecia or something. I have NEVER had a tree shed this bad, and before you comment - yes, I am watering it. The needles are coming off at such a rate that some of the ornaments are sliding off bare twigs with the the slightest vibration from the wind as you walk slowly past. It's absolutely annoying! I sweep them up twice a day at least, and I have NO IDEA how we're going to get that thing out of this 2nd floor flat (3rd floor US) without a huge mess in the hallways. Ugh, how I miss my old place in Columbus where I could just chuck the sucker out the back balcony and drag it to the street without a care in the world. Those were the days!

Back to work tomorrow. Which means going back to nothing to work on. Starting a new job at Christmas time isn't exactly a thrill a minute, but I shouldn't complain I suppose. I'm just really sick of CBTs and staring at the company logo while drinking vending machine coffee for hours on end. My boss says after the new year things will pick up and I won't have a minute to breathe, so I am trying to enjoy the downtime while I can. He's taking me to our London location Tuesday, which means flying down and back in a single day (the benefit of working for an airline). They call it 'Duty Travel'. Makes me feel like I'm in the military or something!

Ok, so enough droning on for now. I'm going to attempt to blog more in 2009, but hopefully my subject matter will be a little more interesting by then.

x

(sur)Reality Check

Generally speaking, I’m starting to forget I live in a foreign country. Sometimes when I used the word ‘home’, I’m actually referring to here rather than the good old US of A. The transition has been slow, subtle and admittedly painful at times, but it’s happening nonetheless. My vernacular is evolving at an impressive pace, as well as my wardrobe. I’m still glaringly American to everyone here of course, but I am pretty sure I seem less American than before to those Stateside. Basically, I’m acclimating, simple as that. Yet sometimes I have these weird almost out-of-body moments where I become acutely cognizant of the fact that I am an alien, that this culture isn’t MY culture and that really, truly I don’t understand what it’s like to be British any more than they can possibly understand what it’s like NOT to be British. These moments occur less and less frequently these days, but when they do, it’s quite powerful.

I had one of these strange epiphanies today on the Metro, coming home from work. ‘Epiphany’ isn’t exactly the correct word to describe the feeling though, it’s more like a sense of ‘deja-vu’ combined with ‘what the f*ck?’ and ‘where am I?’ all rolled into a ten-second mini roller coaster of the mind. There wasn’t any one thing that set me off today on the train… like every other day, I was reading my book and ignoring everyone around me, constantly stopping mid-sentence to make sure I hadn’t missed my stop. About the third go at double-checking the station sign, I became hyper-conscious of the people around me talking, and how different they sound to me. And then I noticed their clothes and their faces and started thinking about how they grew up compared to me, and within a few seconds I was like ‘Oh my god, I’m in a foreign country, this isn’t my life, this feels so weird.’. A momentary panic ensued followed by the reassuring announcement that the next stop was Regent Centre, which means I was almost home. Home. That’s what I thought instinctively, I’m almost home. And suddenly I didn’t feel foreign or weird or misplaced anymore.

I wonder sometimes if these moments will cease occurring, or if it will always be like this for me? I’m so intrinsically American, and proud to be so, that the thought of losing these periodic moments makes me sad in a way. I don’t crave to be different – I don’t want to stand out all the time. But I also don’t crave to be a nationality I’m not, nor to lose touch with the culture that formed me from infancy. Only time will tell I suppose… wait and see, wait and see.

i hate my immune system!!

I have been sick for about 2 months off and on, with a few good days here and there but mostly sick sick sick. Will and I keep passing bugs back and forth and it's exhausting! I mean, I'm so tired of being ill that I'm actually laying off on booze and taking supplements. Seriously, it's that bad. The funny part is that I'm not really getting super sick - just mildly - but it's been going on for so long now that I'm not sure whether or not I could pass a drug test. Over the last couple months I've had to buy enough Sudafed, ibuprofen, Nurofen CF, Night Nurse and other various OTCs that I think the Boots pharmacy staff is starting to suspect I'm running a meth lab rather than self-medicating. Please please please let this be the last of my colds for awhile!!!

long lost friend and fading memories

American night !
Originally uploaded by juliehicks75

There used to be a time when Kraft Macaroni and Cheese was a major staple of my diet. As in at least once per week, usually more often. I would sometimes add shredded cheese, or jalepenos, or tuna or chili but in the end my main love was the boxed mac and cheese itself. And it was a long lasting love affair we had together, probably the longest one in my entire life. Until last June, when we parted ways once I realised how many points M&C has on weight watchers. And alas, I sure did miss this American classic !

I think it's been about a year since I actually ate any Kraft Mac & Cheese. At first it was because of WW, and then it was because I moved to the UK where it's not sold. In April I smuggled two boxes back with me from the States; however I had resisted the urge to eat this dear friend until tonight, a night when Will is out and I can be an indulgent American junk foody with little or no whining.

My plan was to skip lunch so that I was super hungry, then make the M&C for an early dinner and eat the whole box myself. As I boiled the noodles, I was so excited. I added a wee bit of shredded cheddar, some fresh ground pepper and some Cavendar's Greek seasoning and then dove straight into a huge bowl. At first it was bliss, each and every bite more satisfying than the next. For about six bites, that is...Let's just say that I'm SO glad I didn't put a load of salt into it like I would have back home, because apparently my tastebuds are changing here and super salty processed foods like mac and cheese, um, well they kinda gross me out!

I ended up throwing away a little under half of it, which is such a shame considering how much I used LOVE mac and cheese. I mean, seriously, I could eat it five days a week back in the day and now I can barely eat one bowl.

What is wrong with me ? I feel so un-American, so un-me! Couple this with the fact that I could NOT remember the American terms for a couple of food items this week, such as aubergines and sunblushed tomatoes, I am really freaking out about my obviously fading American-ness. I can cope with the changes in my spelling and speech, because I'm basically paid to write emails and talk on the phone all day long and my primary interfaces are English; however losing my American food identity is just completely unacceptable! Next thing you know, I'll prefer tea over coffee and calling cookies 'biscuits' ! And the final step is everyone telling me I 'sound just like Madonna' - fuck that shit !

Time to watch some American cooking shows online and get my new British-leaning self in check. Or maybe I'll watch Scrubs. Enough Zach Braff can cure me, I'm sure of it !!

Nostalgia

I recently became reacquainted with an old high school friend through email. She found me initially on classmates.com, which I refuse to subscribe to because it's 'pay', so after a week or two of clever profile changes, I was able to tell her where to find me on other FREE sites and eventually we connected. Her name is Amy (yeah, can you believe that - yet another Amy to add to my list - so now we have AmyMo, Acxiom Amy and HighSchool Amy). Myself, Amy and a girl named Kim were fairly inseparable in high school for 2 years, yet somehow I haven't connected with her once in the 15 years past. Probably doesn't help that I moved away from Ohio as soon as I could find an excuse, and didn't return for 10 years, and I pretty much blocked out everything prior to 1996 in my mind at the same time. Coping mechanism in part, but probably mostly due to sheer laziness on my own part - keeping in contact with peeps is hard work !

For obvious reasons, this sudden contact with HS Amy is bringing back a LOT of memories from those days, most of which are much more pleasant and fun in hindsight than reality actually was during my high school years. Thank God for that, huh? Given that I'm not usually prone to nostalgia about those days, I've been in a weird head space over it all as of late. It's quite interesting to me how much I've changed since those days in many ways, while at the same time I think I'm very much the same person deep inside. Amy sure seems to be able to relate to the now-Julie just as easily as the then-Julie, and we haven't spoken in 15 years. Given, we were VERY close back in the day, and I don't get super close to people easily so it makes sense she and I are getting along via email fine, but it's just weird considering I'm 2x as old now as I was when I saw her last.

The other side effect of this reunion is that I'm having dreams about high school again. Any time I am reminded of that time period, my dreams change for awhile. Some of the dreams are pleasant, but there is this recurring one that I can't shake that's not so pleasant. I keep dreaming that there was some problem with my graduation processing in 1993 and they revoked my diploma in modern day, forcing me to go back to High School as a 32 year old woman. And everything I hated about HS is 10x worse as an adult, yet I can't escape because I HAVE to have my diploma to hold a job. The dream situations is completely ludicrous of course, but somehow upsets me every time I have it. I mean, seriously...what's more frightening that having to deal with teenage angst at 32 years of age? Nightmare, I call it.

This weekend I started thinking about what I looked like back then (cringe!). Somewhere in this flat I have some really hilarious pics that I need to scan in and post on flickr. Absolutely shocking how nerdy and misfit I was back then - omg. Seriously, big hair, big glasses and bad clothes. Enuff said.

Geographically Challenged Americans

Now, let me preface this entire entry by stating that I know for a fact that a lot of my American friends totally understand that London is a city in England and that although I don't live there, they accidentally refer to me living there due to the fact I go there a lot and/or they have never really heard of the city where I really do live. This entry is not about those of you in that category...this entry is about the people who seriously have no clue about the United Kingdom's geography in general. Here are some gems that I have encountered with fellow Americans in the recent past. Certain names are not being mentioned as I want to protect the awkwardly innocent. And some of the conversations are being drastically shortened, as you guys can google for yourself.

Example #1:

While home on holiday this month, I had the following conversation:

Anon: "So, how is life in London?"

Julie (laughing): "I'm sure it's great, but I don't live in London."

Anon (confused): "But I thought you moved to England?"

Julie: "Yes, I did. But I don't live in London, I live in Durham."

Anon (silent & confused looking, most likely trying to figure out why I am talking about a city in North Carolina): "Oh."

Julie: "It's in the Northeast of England, 5 hours drive from London."

Anon: "Oh, I guess I didn't realise England was that big."

Julie: "Hmm"

Example #2:

Conversation with a different person, prior to moving to England in November:

Anon: "So, are you going to live in England or the United Kingdom?"

Julie: "Both"

Anon "What does that mean?"

Julie: "It's a long story.... look them both up on google."

Example #3

Yet another conversation of this genre...

Anon: "So where exactly is Durham anyway?"

Julie: "Well, it's in the Northeast. It's actually pretty close to the Scotland border."

Anon: "Oh, really, I didn't know the UK bordered Scotland?"

Julie: "It doesn't. Scotland is PART of the UK. So is England. And they border eachother."

Anon: "Okay I'm really confused now. Where is London then?"

Julie: Long explanation of the nuances of the United Kingdom, Great Britain, England, Scotland, Wales & Northern Ireland

Anon: "You don't know what you are talking about, Ireland is NOT part of the United Kingdom."

Julie: "Ireland and Northern Ireland are different countries."

Anon: "Whatever."

Example #4:

So, about a month ago I rang up TRowePrice the other day to change my address to my Durham flat. Their system didn't accomodate international addresses easily, so I had to go over it with the lady about 4 times to make sure she got it right. She even repeated it back to me one last time so we could ensure the mail would get to me, as frequently Americans incorrectly address mail to me and it takes longer than normal for the Royal Mail to sort it out and get it to me. This week I received a confirmation letter from TRP saying they had changed my address. Here is how the new address read:

Julie Hicks
24 Monument Court
Dh14pd
Durham, London

Um... seriously? London is NOT a country people !! Luckily the dear old Royal Mail figured it out by the post code and the letter was delivered anyway. Really looking forward to calling TRP to correct it - can't wait to explain why London shouldn't be on the address at all. :)

Example #5:

Not the last of the stories I could tell, but it seems silly to belabour this any futher so I'll only give one more example. This took place on a conference call recently, and one of the participants was himself a Brit living in the US. He chose to stay completely silent during the entire conversation though.

Julie: "We're taking the ferry from Newcastle to Amsterdam this weekend, I can't wait."

Anon #1: "Ooh, so you're crossing the English Channel by boat?"

Julie: "Um, no... I'm pretty sure it's the North Sea we're crossing."

Anon #2: "No, I'm pretty sure you have to cross the English Channel to get to Amsterdam."

Anon #1: "Yeah, I crossed it once to get to France and I got SO seasick. I can't believe people actually swim across it!!"

Julie (feeling doubtful now): "Well, I am pretty sure we're not crossing the English Channel. The English Channel is not anywhere near Newcastle. That said, I'm no expert on geography, so maybe I'm confused?"

Now, I'm not saying that I myself was an expert on the structure & geography of the United Kingdom before I met Will, but I was a little more knowledgeable than these folks - and none of these folks are stupid or uneducated at all! They just suffer from the stereotypical American syndrome of geographical naivete. I myself suffer from it, and since moving here, I find myself regularly hearing the name of a country or city I never knew existed. I have to ask Will to explain where it is, or I google it if I'm too embarassed to even ask, usually when with stranger. And so far I have found wikipedia & my iphone to be my lifesavers. Thank God for both!

BTW check this out if you are interested in the real scoop on the UK:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_kingdom

Public transport pro?

As I travel to Teddington from Durham today, it strikes me that I'm becoming a bit of a pro at utilizing mass transportation. Three months ago I used England's infamous rail and tube stations cautiously and with loads of self-doubt, constantly worried about getting lost or always fumbling like a fool with my bags whilst simultaneously riding an escalator or buying a ticket. Three months ago, a four-plus hour journey to Teddington via public transportation would have put me totally on edge, and by the time I got there, I would have been frazzled. Today I feel incredibly cool and content during my journey, which seems to be a dramatic shift within me. So now I am starting to wonder exactly what has changed.

It's obvious to me that I've become one of the Average Jane commuting masses. I "fit in" somehow, instead of always sticking out like a sore thumb as I did in the recent past (or rather I came off like a car-dependent bus-phobic Middle American to be more accurate). Here is some proof…

I pack my belongings in the manner most optimal for the journey ahead. Roller bag if long stays, backpack for short ones, purse inside backpack if tube AND train, outside if tube only. Always keep both sunglasses AND an umbrella in my bag's side pocket when an outdoor hike is required, as the weather changes rapidly here.

Before departing, I put my Oyster card &/or train tickets in my right hand outermost coat pocket for quick access to the ticket scanner or to show the porter.

Amazingly, I can now both collapse the handle on my suitcase and carry it up tube station stairs all with one hand & in one smooth motion without missing a step (the key is proper thumb-on-handle placement).

I have mostly broken my American habit of always walking on the right side of the gangway, and instead I can weave in and out on the left with ease.

I have memorized all the tube and train stops which I frequent, usually down to the level of knowing which side the doors open at each station, and also what carriage to be on for the post-departure race for first in queue at the taxi stand.

I have all the various fares memorized, and I pay for my tea with exact change whenever possible to keep the snack trolley vendor happy and efficient. Hell, I can even walk up the escalators on the left like a sprinter without feeling any awkwardness, no matter what type of heels I'm wearing!

I assume this change has occurred in me slowly over time, but for some reason today it seems dramatic and sudden. I mean... sure, I still get lost or trip over the tube gap from time to time still, but its less scary than before and usually due to me being the clumsiest person alive instead of due to my public transport naivety. And that subtle difference makes me feel so good.

Sent from my iPhone.

America shopping list

I'm going to be stateside in a little over two weeks and can't wait to do some shopping!

Here is my list so far. Some of this I can't get in the UK at all, others are just way cheaper in the states.

A proper American salon haircut and color (!!)
Flavored cheezits
Canned black beans
Rotelle
Bare Escentuals makeup
Lubriderm lotion
Hazelnut flavoured ground coffee
Any sour candy I can find (!)
Generic Zyrtec
Valerian root capsules
Huge ass bottles of ibuprofen
Kraft macaroni and cheese
Clothes from Banana Republic
New Balance sneakers
Reeses peanut butter cups
Good quality headphones
Skin for my iPhone

Um I'm sure there is more. Got to take an extra bag just in case :)

Sent from my iPhone.

what a difference a year makes

Cruising to Amsterdam
Originally uploaded by juliehicks75

This time last year both of us were just starting to put back together the pieces of our lives which were fragmented by 12 months of hell, all of it primarily self-imposed of course. Over the last three years, life has been incredibly up and down but I wouldn't take back a moment of it. If the bad times had not occured, I would not be where I'm at now (geographically, or emotionally). I would not have found such beautiful friends for life in AmyMo, or Karin, or Carnes. I never would have finished my PMP certification. I would not have had a chance to see my niece born, or the look on Ed's face when his first child arrived. I wouldn't have witnessed the amazing mother and friend my sister has turned out to be. I would not have had 18 months of intense bonding with my nephew, which has probably brought me closer together with my family than I ever thought possible. And I wouldn't have gotten the infamous brown 'sleeping bag' coat, which got me through one miserably cold Ohio winter. Ugly as it is, I love that coat.

Yes, things were utterly bad for awhile and I was miserable for a long time - and yes, that misery was primarily my own & Will's fault - but I am so absolutely thankful for the direction my life has taken and the gifts I've been blessed with because of this path. And I can't express the depth of my love for this life and this man.

Thanks baby, it was all worth it.

x

Oz Moments

Jubilee Place
Originally uploaded by juliehicks75

Took this with my cell phone while on an escalator in the Canary Wharf tube stop. For some reason this wall REALLY made me happy. I think it's the vibrant colors and the fact the word 'jubilee' is adorable.

I also had a really strange feeling of surrealness settle over me when we were riding down this escalator. Sometimes I don't realize how unusual it is to be experiencing the things I'm going through right now and I take it all for granted without much thought... then there are moments like the one where I took this picture where I am totally overcome by the differencees and I think to myself, "We're not in Kansas anymore Toto" Suddently it hits me how far away I am from Ohio and I feel like an alien in a foreign land. That's how I felt when I took this picture... and it was really fucking neat.