I’m sitting at my flight gate for Manchester inside the Atlanta airport. I am utterly overwhelmed by the British-ness. I can still hear the menagerie of “British” on my right and left sides through the thumping K-Pop from my Ipod. I’ve been preparing for my departure by watching British movies and series, courtesy of Youtube, for the past six days. Yet once again, “nothing beats the real thing”. The “posh”, Received Pronunciation I’m most often exposed to via the tube (Youtube mainly, since I stopped watching real TV), is now replaced with accents neither BBC- nor Masterpiece Theatre-esque. The real thing comes from five feet to my left and right. Even an hour ago,my trip to England for three months still felt surreal. But now, it’s real. The tingling of my insides and warmth from my throat tells my brain this is truly happening. It’s not because I’ve finally lost all feeling from the waist down with my legs pretzel-like on the seemingly comfortable black plether airport chaise. The Harry Potter-speak I’ve spent years failing to masteris nothing compared to the sounds around me. I can’t really tell what’s Northern England, Southern England, Cockney, or anything else, but it’s a rhapsody to my ears. Glorious!
Just as I was writing this, the familiar sound of American surrounded me. Maybe I should savor it in preparation for my 14-week deprivation…
In-Flight
I’m currently writing this while reclined in Delta’s Business Elite cabin. I’ve only flown business class twice in my life, thanks to an airline’s overzealousness by over-booking a flight. Hence, flight1 (bodies1 > chairs1) --> flight2 (bodies2 <>2) + bodies1.The first time I sat in business (first – is that the same?) class resulted from much persistent persuasion from my dad. Initially, all I wanted to do was fly home at an earlier time and eat ramen noodles by foregoing the first-class treatment and two additional ticket vouchers. My naïve and overly-stubborn 17-year-old self did not realize the sheer awesomeness of seats one through eight until I was sipping ginger ale out of a glass and eating steak and haricots verts off of china plates, possibly better than my dishes at home. This time, the upgrade was totally unexpected since I only wanted the flight vouchers for six more hours of waiting and one extra layover in Manchester. I didn’t discover this pleasant surprise until I walked tin y boarding gate after being issued a new boarding pass. Right this moment, I’m enjoying roasted warm nuts, ice water in a glass, and a poofy pillow covering most of my lower body. Without sounding too pretentious, there is one tiny downside. All the detailed service brings a lot of unnecessary extras – Bose-shaped headphones (noise-cancelling?) toiletries case (Update: I wished I used the toothbrush), thermal blanket, all the extra food sitting in individual servers, and trays coming out of unseen orifices of the chair. I guess I’m just not used to the pampering. Then again, that’s what the three and a half feet of leg room is for.
I'll be studying at the University of Sussex in Brighton for the fall semester of my senior year. The experience will broaden my horizons and definitely positively affect my future. But really, the schooling is just a guise for an extended vacation across Europe. Of course, this does not at all mean I will be skipping class (maybe only once or twice?) for a day-trip to London or Paris. On the contrary, I think I will be even more productive than I was in Austin when I was just going to class, the $5 Korean restaurant and Whole Foods.
There will be the occasional rants and raves or heart-to-hearts, but for the next 3.5 months, this will be a travel diary and I will be your Antonia Bourdain.
I'm finally back in the 'burbs after a 4 1/2 hour car ride down the same craggily highway that definitely needs a part of the stimulus package for better paved roads. My mom greeted me with steamy celery and dill (separate fillings) dumplings right as I walked in the door. One bite into the hot, pillowy dumpling tells me that I'm home again. I've been making dumplings on my own for a few years now, but Mom's still give me a complete feeling of wholesome satisfaction. The Chinese term "Ta Shi" (踏实）describes this feeling exactly, but I can only attribute it to "complete satisfaction". In 20 years, I want my kids to feel the same about my dumplings.
Tomorrow is Friday. Tomorrow I have three classes in a row. Tonight I watched a movie (at the movie theater) and just got home past midnight. I feel like such a junvenile deliquent.
OK, so for most college students, it's normal to do things Thursday night. I've heard (shockingly) some even party every Thursday night. Finally, I understand Thursday night = College night.
I, on the other hand, am not your typical college student. Even when I didn't have class on Fridays all last semester, I didn't do ANYTHING Thursday night. Oh, how I miss those class-less Fridays... Instead, I would do my homework and then sit in front of my computer reading Chinese subtitles for monotonous (yet magically addicting) Korean dramas eating chocolate chex out of the box. This kind of heinous behavior only leads to unnecessary weight gain.
Tonight was different. Instead of thinking about my homework for class tomorrow (which I finished yesterday), I decided, spur of the moment, to watch "Confessions of a Shopaholic". And I feel LIBERATED. I even called my parents just to tell them that I was watching a movie late at night because this is something they would never let me do at home (even now, as an adult). It didn't hurt that I had a little Arbor Mist and a few chocolates (thanks to W) before the movie. And this was all before I registered the fact that the movie is filled with SHOES and HUGH DANCY. No need to sit in front of my computer with chocolate carbs when lovely British gentleman's face is 20 ft. tall. (Though most definitely not the sole reason I'm studying in England in the fall.)
Sorry for the poor image arrangement. Blogger only allows straight lines. Or, I just don't know how to use it.
After all this talk in my PR class today about blogs and twitter, I feel inclined to get back to this little project. If only I were as OCD about posting on my blog as I was about vacuuming my apartment. I guess I'll keep posts short and sweet, unless I have something really earth-shattering or issues to get off my chest.
I just turned a year older and am glad to get back to this blog. Again.
I'm still alive... barely fending off the three ugly heads of the Examonster
It's been a while since my last post. 12 days, to be exact. I have many good (ok. above par) posts floating around in this noggin, but they're fighting for breathing room against standard deviation, z-values, PRSA code of ethics, the AP style guide, etc. Until the Examonster is slain, I won't really have anything insightful to say on here. Insert deep comments here.
I'm going to Vegas and the Grand Canyon for Spring Break! Hopefully I'll be back with some photos to brighten this joint up. In the meantime, take a little study break.
Most have branded it as Single Awareness Day. Even though they may not want to admit it, there's a TWINGE of self-pity stuck in between single and day. As for me, I prefer Single and Delici0us. Maybe it's because I'm still in the spring of my life or I haven't yet felt the full force of a break-up --> singletondom (rejection in general, totally different story). Until I begin listening to Sad FM in my pajamas and drinking red wine (ok... Welches Grape Juice) straight from the bottle, I will embrace Valentine's Day for what it is, a day for love. To all the people in my life who don't ever hear this from me... I love you. I feel like huge sap saying those three words just once (even on a blog with a readership too low to write out), when people around me are spraying it out like rotating sprinklers, trying to cover as much grass as possible. Quality, not quantity.
There were quite a few people feeling the mood today, as it seemed. So much so that I was even greeted with a little V-Day present at my seat. In case I wasn't in the mood already, someone made sure I would be by leaving me an unused prophylactic, wrapper intact (how generous and hygienic), to ensure my health and safety. Chocolate is an aphrodisiac, not an unopened condom. I don't think I'm going to sit at that spot on Tuesday.
Tonight we went to go see Enchanted and as the big sentimental goober that I am, I smiled so much that my cheek muscles stayed in a cracked position for a few minutes after the movie ended. I'm a total sucker when it comes to Happily Ever After and true love's kiss. It can't be helped. I melting in a tooth-achingly sweet pool of sap. I will wait for my Mr. Darcy. Ahh... My Mr. Darcy.
Aunties = My mother's middle-aged church friends, not related in any sense --- mind you, if they were my real aunties, they would not be trying to push their sons or nephews or younger male relatives to me as it would be incestuous
1. I am not ready to date anyone yet. Let alone your sons, nephews, younger male relatives, etc. 2. Stop pushing aforementioned males over to try to make small talk at parties 3. Please cease these discussions with my mother as it only gives her ideas, in the worst sense --> nothing is worse than my own mother sneakily inserting these "males" into any conversation 4. Chinese boys mature much later than all others - I (or any other female) will be more willing to play the matchmaking game in five to seven years 5. Boys with smaller thighs than mine wearing skinny waist-high pants in the manner of Steve Urkel = No-No 6. Not only is this awkward for me, but embarassing for the other party as well - we've past the age of Parent-Chaperoned dates 7. Read Bridget Jones's Diary for further guidance
