Writing a book

Melanie and I have decided to write a book together. That is to say, we keep joking about it, but I think we should really do it. There are so many things that have happened to us (both together and separately) that are awkward, strange, funny, sad, frustrating, or just down-right relatable. I think we’re funny and interesting (totally not biased or anything), so maybe other people will, too. Is this the pinnacle of vanity? Thinking people will want to read about me because, like, I’m obvs totes (this is really cool speak for “obviously totally,” trust me.) the coolest? I already catalogue half of my lame and weird encounters on this, why not compile them all in one place to make a story everyone can cringe through together? Although, I barely make time to do schoolwork… so perhaps not any time soon. We already have a book title: Sexily Awkward, or Awkwardly Sexy? Aptly named after I banged my head on the underside of a table while making eye contact with a hot guy. Smooth.

Today is my last day of actual classes. At least until revision week in late April. But even then I’ll only have Greek. It’s so strange to me that it’s over already. Well, the structured learning part, anyway. I feel like I haven’t learned enough. I’m not ready for it to be done. I’m sad I won’t see everyone I’ve come to look forward to seeing. I’m also nervous since I won’t have the structure from before. And still have four essays to write. I need to write 5,000 words by April 24th and 12,000 others by June 1st. I have a final exam in the middle of it all in May. Followed by a dissertation presentation in mid June. Final dissertation is due in September. I hope I pull it all off. I have my doubts.

We had our second small exam in Greek on Monday. I dreamt last night I got a 32 on it, which unfortunately is fairly believable as a possibility. I don’t have confidence in how I did on it at all. I was feeling okay, until I was looking at it on my desk. I wanted to throw up. Everything I had studied flew out of my mind. Half of what was on it I didn’t recognise. I’ve never been completely unable to translate a Greek to English part before. But I couldn’t! It made no sense to me. And I got so caught up in some parts that I forgot to pace myself on others. When she called out two minutes left, I had tons of blank spaces on my paper still. And I didn’t do well with structuring the paper itself, so good luck to Dr. Soothingvoice trying to read through my scribbles (we can’t use pencil – which is ludicrous to me – so I had to scratch through all my writing mistakes with ugly, black pen). I hope I got a 50, but I will be lucky to have gotten a 32. I added up what I remembers of the test afterward and it wasn’t promising. Guess I will tackle that when it comes.

It is now Sunday. I’ve been writing this entry for weeks and have yet to do anything with it. Sad it has taken weeks considering it has such little content, huh?

Yesterday I went on a date (look at me being all social). I met a British guy a few weeks back at a mutual friend’s birthday. He came up and started talking to me because I was alone and he didn’t know anyone else. We hit it off really easily and talked all night. He’s a fabulous conversationalist. This was actually our second date. He took me to the Tate Modern Museum for a night exhibit they have on. I had yet to go to the Tate, so it was all new to me. It was by far one of the coolest dates I’ve ever been on. There was an exhibit on whenever we first walked in that should have been weird, but ended up being really neat. It was essentially a room where a lot of people were lying down, looking at the ceiling, while speakers played repeating noises (sounded to me sort of like a mechanical purring, but not quite), white light panels flashed patterns, and people released fish balloons. We laid down to watch them float to the ceiling for awhile, and it might have been my favourite part of the museum. Apparently the exhibit is meant to evolve and change throughout the day and six months it is at the Tate. I want to go back and see how it changes. It is called “Anywhen” by Philippe Parreno. Here’s a youtube video to give you a sort of idea on it…

Last night, Melanie, myself, and a group of friends went to an event called “Itchy Feet.” Melanie has talked about it since I first got to London, as she went before and had an absolute blast. They play older music, and people sometimes dress up for whatever era is the star of the evening. Last night it was 60s-70s. Naturally, Melanie and I dressed up for the occasion. Melanie went 70s disco, with a silver sparkly dress, big hair, and gold shimmer makeup. I wore a long, high-waist skirt, crop top, wedges, middle part hair, and dangly jewelry via a 70s semi-involved protestor. The music while we were there was mainly early 60s, which I like, but I had reaaaallly hoped for mid/late 70s. We left around 1:30 and I think it went until 3:00, so it is likely they just hadn’t gotten to the later music yet. There was one Beatles song that played (I want to hold your hand) so I was ecstatic throughout that. Either way, it was a great time.

I say it all the time, but I truly think I belong in another era. *le sigh*



About Lost in London

I often have no clue what I am doing. I get lost, A LOT. I have a terrible sweet tooth which I say I am fighting, but I usually follow that claim up with inhaling a cupcake. Currently I am attempting to live in London and get my Masters. Come and watch me blunder!
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