Hello hello,
Happy Birthday to Dad! Here's a Dinosaur comic in honor of the occasion:
Original
here
So, as you can probably tell, I survived writing two 3000-word essays in a rather short period of time. I actually didn't procrastinate on these papers; I started working on them as early as I possibly could. The problem came when I discovered the fact that I have pretty much zero knowledge about the subjects I was supposed to write about (as opposed to the rest of the class, who have been studying this in depth for three years). So I had A LOT of background reading to do. Essentially I had to give myself a crash course in two very broad subjects (Egyptology and Bronze Age Britain), research two specific areas of these disciplines in depth, then formulate my own opinions about them. It was not easy, to say the least. But I got it done, and that's what matters. I now have only one (massive) paper left to write, and I'll be done with my undergrad work. Which is kind of scary. But really exciting at the same time.
After pulling my all-nighter until 7 am Monday morning (my first
literal all-nighter I've ever had to do in my college career), I not surprisingly got sick a few days later. I kind of knew I was getting sick on Tuesday, but I ignored it because I had volunteered to be in charge of my flat's weekly "International Cooking Night" on Wednesday. I made Mom's stew and biscuits, which is not typically "American" food, I suppose, but it was her Dad's recipe, and he was kind of a cowboy. So it counts. And what is "American" food anyway? One thing that I've really recognized about the US is that it's so much more of a cultural mix than most nations. Like the Germans and French have their traditional dress, food, practices, etc, but the US really doesn't have anything so clearly defined as "traditionally" American. You could say "American" food is hot dogs, hamburgers, and french fries, but who actually eats that on a daily basis? That's a stereotype of American food. I didn't want to make a stereotypical meal; I wanted to make a dinner that reflected how an American family might actually eat. So stew and biscuits it was.
It turned out that biscuits were actually something that none of my flatmates had ever had before; I hit on a traditional American food completely by chance. I tried to explain that, no, they're not scones, no, they're not sweet, no, they're not savory, yes you eat them with the soup, but you can also put butter, honey, or jam on them, and sometimes we eat them as a dessert with strawberries in a sauce.... Just what they are ended up being kind of hard to explain. Especially since "biscuit" means "cookie" everywhere else but in the US. Thus when I first told them I was making biscuits to go with the stew, they thought it a very strange combo. It would be like eating sugar cookies with chicken soup. Eventually I just told them they'd have to wait to try them, and the biscuits were totally a hit! They had me make a second batch before the first was even gone!
For dessert I made apple crisp, which didn't turn out all that well because I let my flatmates make the topping themselves while I was squishing the potatoes in the stew. I wasn't watching too closely, and I didn't give exact measurements, so the topping ended up without enough sugar/butter and with too much oats. But I had prepared for the worst and bought vanilla ice cream to go with it, thinking that if it got burned or something ice cream could cover up the failure. Turned out that was a good choice.
I think I over-exerted myself on Wednesday in prep for the cooking (walked probably a grand total of an hour and a half to different stores in search of ingredients), and by Thursday I was feeling pretty sick. But all I have is a cold, which is
much preferable to a flu —I haven't thrown up since 3rd grade, and I intend to keep it that way — and I haven't minded too much because it's given me an excuse to lounge around in bed and be lazy (two of my favorite activities). So the rest of my week has been made up of sleep and short forays out into the world to buy groceries. Tomorrow I intend to be at least a little but social, because I've discovered that the longer I hide from the world, the harder it is to go outside. I'm totally the kind of person who can hole up in my room for
weeks and not notice how lonely I am until it's too late. And by then I've lost all my social skills and it's incredibly difficult to muster up the courage — or even inclination — to go outside and talk to people. Eventually I'd turn into one of those creepy cave fish whose eyes evolved away. (seen here)
Anyway, nobody wants that, so tomorrow I'm going to go to Meadowhall with Tanja in order to try to find a new pair of boots. I've had to wear the same H&M black boots for the last 2 weeks because they're the only shoes I have that work for the snow, and as a result the uppers are coming apart from the sole. As I'm all european now and wear skinny jeans (whether or not this is a good choice will have to wait to be determined by 10-years-in-the-future me looking back at pictures. Hopefully future-me won't think I looked as terrible as my present-day-me thinks my 15-year-old massive-sweatshirt-wearing-me looked), I figure investing in a good pair of awesome boots to go with them is a good choice.
I'm still waiting to hear from Gillian and Aunt Millie to know whether or not I can stay with them for Christmas. I'm hoping I can, because, if not, I'm sure you all will be getting LOTS of really emo, grinchy, whiny emails.
I'm hoping to be able to take a trip to Castleton in the next week or so. Castleton's a super cute village in the Peak District, similar to Bakewell. Or so I've been told. I'm not really sure why I want to go there so bad, but I do. Whether or not I'll actually do it remains to be seen. Knowing me I'll make it into some sort of index of my self worth and berate myself into going. Or berate myself for not going. I'm cool like that. I need to work on just enjoying things. But if one is
trying to enjoy something, can one ever truly enjoy it? I think not. As C.S. Lewis has said, "The surest way of spoiling a pleasure [is] to start examining your satisfaction." As soon as you become conscious of experiencing joy, you cease to experience it. Or, ""The moment good taste knows itself, some of its goodness is lost." (also CS Lewis). Think about THAT for a while. And then welcome to my life. :D
In other news,
Surprised by Joy is a
really weird book.
And here's another Dino comic, just because it's hilarious:
Original
here
And if you'd like to read more hilarious Dinosaur Comics, check out
Qwantz.com.
That's all from me for now. Here's a picture of my flatmates enjoying their stew. Notice the massive thing of salt. They like their salt, that is for sure.
