Ketchup

takeaway -- ready to eat food (e.g. "Let's get a Chinese takeaway tonight.") AKA "to-go" stateside

Hi guys. I'm a little embarrassed it's been so long that I've written.

I've been so kindly reminded that my last blog post was a month ago. So now, (massive) RECAP from the last month:

I've quickly moved away from my new-found interest in country music.

Sorry Laci.

I have truly harnessed my procrastination prowess.

I wasted the last weekend of my break hemming and hawing about writing a measly 2,000 word paper. I ventured outside of my room about four times over the course of three days, and that was to go to the grocery store and lament over the lack of Chef Boyardee, Lunchables and Kraft macaroni and cheese. (They are on the food pyramid, just the back side where we can't see them obviously.)

In the end, I spent the entire night before the paper was due in the dungeon of a PC lab in our basement, only to truly lose my wits around 3:30 a.m. and crack up (and whimper slightly) at the thought of good British food and wonder why they love meat pies so much.

I need a refresher in time management.

Friend Alice who's studying architecture in Vicenza, Italy like a cool kid came to London on her Europe World Tour with her friend Ledia. We were going to be collective cool kids and go to this club in the Smithfield Markets area, which is the meatpacking district. That night was the coldest it had been in London thus far, so the million-mile walk to the venue wasn't the most comfortable one.

Once we got to the place we noticed a line out the door. In my naiveté I thought to myself Oh heck yes, this is a legit club with a line and everything. This is what the real world is like. We soon realized that the small line was actually one of no less than 78 (give or take) sections of a massive line that stretched around the block and into the alley. It was so long that a guy with a REFRESHMENT CART was peddling to the folks near the end of the line who would never get inside.

We did not get in line.

I walked the cobbled streets of London in 5-inch heels, twice.

I have also realized that whenever I wear those heels again it is MANDATORY I put a pair of flats in my purse. I wore them to my internship interview and once more when we saw "Wicked." Both times I was ready to call a cab to take me from the tube station back home. It's maybe a 10-minute walk from the tube station to my room, but dang if I wasn't hurting in each and every foot bone I possess.

I've done very few touristy things thus far.

I think I mentioned that the major museums here are free. And so far I've only visited three of them. The Tate Modern, a modern art gallery; the V&A, an art and design museum; and the British Museum, self-explanatory. I still need to visit St. Paul's Cathedral, the Tower of London and Westminster Abbey.

Other than the museums, I've gone to Abbey Road and visited a lot of the parks pretty often. I also went to the British Library and saw the original, handwritten versions of "Jane Eyre," and "Beowulf," handwritten Beatles lyrics, a Gutenberg Bible and some of da Vinci's notes on math and science.  So, that's something.

I've started my internship in the heart of Soho.

It's cliche to say this, but the internship really is another post in itself. After tomorrow I'll have worked my first full week, so maybe then? Maybe??

Honestly, it doesn't sound like I've been up to a whole lot, but between school and just living life, man, I've been going non-stop.

To soothe your anger over my inconsistencies and lower your blood pressure, look at this collection of photos from the British Museum.

Domo arigato

Be yourself