The French Revolution and Friday night boozin’

One thing I really appreciate about myself is my random appreciation of music.  Not that appreciating music is random, but the selections that I like are random.  Anyone who has ever ridden in a car with me knows that (but you do have to admit, the CDs aren’t AS bad as they used to be…I no longer have Randy Travis play immediately after Jay Z, and then followed up by Josh Groban).  But for some reason lately, the only things I can stand to listen to are the Les Miserables soundtrack (and not just one or two songs, I’m talking the whoooole thing in one listening session) or Eric Church.  For those of you who don’t know who Eric Church is…he is a country Western dreamboat.  So the fact that these are the two things that have been playing on repeat for the entirety of my life here in foggy London is more random than normal.

This ridiculous rant is brought on by the day I had.  For some reason, the past few weekdays (I’m including last week’s weekdays in this generalization, because let’s face it-today is only Tuesday) I have been struggling to leave my dorm room.  It might be the lack of classes (they officially start next week), my obsession with British TV shows (although, the “Secret Diary of a Call Girl” got waaay too dramatic for me, and Belle and I broke up…Belle is the main character, if you weren’t aware of that), or my love of naps.  Either way, today I told myself to stop being ridiculous and get outside.  Did I do anything productive with my day outside?  Of course not-that would be waaaay too much to ask of me.  Well, I guess the hour and a half of reading about the origins of the term “the Middle East” counts as productivity.  But after THAT, I was irresponsible.  I wandered around London without a map or final destination in mind for several hours.  And I was smiling like a crazy person the whole time.

Between the smiling and eye contact, country music blasting from my headphones, and inability to correctly assess the direction of oncoming traffic while crossing the street, I unfortunately was an easy spot for being an American.  Well, maybe with the hat I was wearing, I could have passed for Canadian or something.  Either way, I need to stop limiting the exploring to the weekends and reach the goal I have set (just now, as I was typing this…I never said it was a lifelong goal) of being mistaken as a local.

I know that I write on here more than I should and that ya’ll are probably annoyed by the updates, but for some reason I like blogging more than writing in a journal.  I’ve never been a big journaler, so maybe that’s no surprise.  Either way, stick that in your gee-wiz pipe and smoke it.  This week’s goals: fixing my multiple ATM card-only accounts at my British bank (I knew that girl had no idea what she was doing when she filled out my paperwork); paying the UK Border Agency to give me my mail (I really don’t even know how to explain that one…small town WY postal mixup?); and spending less than 3 hours a day in my dorm room.  I may or may not ask you to hold me accountable for these goals…


3 thoughts on “The French Revolution and Friday night boozin’

  1. LOVE just wandering London without a destination. Its the best place in the world to explore. By the end of your program, And I have no doubt that you will succeed in your “be mistaken for a local” goal. 🙂

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