My First Day as an Illegal Alien

I'll still drink tea when I come back to the states, but what I'll really miss is getting on the Tube to go to the teashop and having a pack of rabid Manchester fans start singing "When the Reds Go Marching In" in between asking "Is this London?" Ah. Went out for tapas again today (too.much.food.) and then to Knightsbridge for tea, at Alison's request. Did a lot of walking around the city. We stopped at the National Gallery so that I could finally get a print of "The Fighting Temeraire is tugged to her last Berth to be Broken Up" which is going to be the focus point in my living room...wherever THAT is. Then I got to carry it around Knightsbridge in it's pretentious little red carrying case, poking people in their Harrod's bags. Anyone can go to Harrods, but it takes a SPECIAL kind of person to spend money at the National Gallery. And it takes a Nicki to spend money at the Gallery on a painting that she already owns in postcard, notepad and mousepad form.

Yesterday was my last day at work, and it was very nice. A little rushed--I was trying to get everything set up since there will be NO ONE there on Monday--but at the end of the day the directors and secretaries gave me a copy of a photograph of the city with everyone's signatures around the edge. It was taken by one of the company photographers, so it's a one of a kind picture that has a much deeper quality than the stuff you can find at the tourist stands. I also got a lovely green necklace from one of the little indie shops in Covent Garden. I really feel like I'll be missed, which is nice. Although--not too missed, since I'm going back to have lunch with our publisher on Tuesday, and the HR manager has promised to forward my resume to their office in Chicago.

I know that I have seven weeks of rehearsal and show coming up, but I'm already feeling like "ah! This is my last chance to experience London! Get it all in while I can!" Probably not helped by the fact that some of my friends have already left and tonight I'm going to another goodbye party for an American. Ah, well. It's been fun. What's next?

Eddie Murphy, you are a Jerk and a Bully

I was all sad and depressed about today being my last day as an employee (and a legal alient) but THEN I was FILLED with a RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION. So now I feel better.

Eddie Murphy has made a new movie called "Norbit" which is, as far as I can tell, basically about a quiet, simple man who is hounded by his harridan girlfriend who is brash, overblown and of course, overweight. The (very unfunny!!!) gag is that Murphy plays both parts. WHY o WHY does Eddie Murphy insist that playing on cultural stereotypes is funny?! In addition he plays an Asian man--Mr. Wong--which I'm fairly certain is about as PC as blackface. ARG! Can you imagine the outcry if white men decided to dress up like large, black women and walk down the street snapping their fingers and wearing loud jewelry? (not being stereotypical--it's there in the trailer for "Norbit"!) Or maybe the problem is just me: it seems acceptable for black men to dress up like women as long as they are making such broad jokes that everyone is in on them. Could it just be me? I'm still struggling to get a handle on my own feelings about the black/white divide in my own life. Why do I find it easy to shrug off Laurence Olivier's performance, in blackface, of Othello by saying that it was the late 1950s or the fact that Washington owned slaves, but when the Wayan brothers dress up like the Hilton sisters I get out my soapbox?

I continue to work through my issues.

I am MORE offended (righteously!) by the fact that Norbit's wife, Rasputina, is a fat woman, so you get all the jokes about her breaking the bed, eating him out of house and home. There is a comedy series here "Little Britain" that features two men dressing up as fat women and competing for a man who chooses them solely on their size--naturally the "comedy" is supposed to be about the gross out factor of two naked fat women running down the aisles of a supermarking stuffing crisps into their mouths. Society seems to have a horror of naked fat people: there is such a demand on us to be perfectly groomed, with clean hair and nails, otherwise we instantly become gross and smelly. Whenever fat people choose to relax in their jammies, it is almost always percieved as disgusing, slobby even. Whereas when Rachel on "Friends" puts on her pajama bottoms and digs into a tub of Ben & Jerrys, it's okay because we know that underneath all that she's actually slender, well-toned and probably going to go to the gym tomorrow. But the attractiveness of fat people ends when our clothes come off, and the facade crumbles. Even after all our work to stay polished and clean, as soon as the support hose comes off, all the old associates about fat = smell comes back with a vengeance. This, of course, is patently not true: I take a shower every night, whether I need to or not, and when I get up at 7:40 in the morning, 15 of my 20 getting ready minutes are spend washing my face, brushing my teeth, putting on makeup and spritzing with "Chanel No. 5." Which, incidentally, is the only think Marilyn Monroe (another large woman) wore to bed.

You may think I'm just being paranoid, but in my efforts to research Mr. Murphy's latest exercise, I visited the imdb message boards where I was expecting people to be as outraged as I am. Instead I found messages like "it's true, all Fat people smell" and "Fat people get food stuck in their rolls and that's why they smell" and "Fat people are costing us money because they all die of heart attacks and can't pay their hospital bills" and "Fat people use disabled parking spaces because they can, instead of people with a legitimate disease" and (my favourite) "Fat is a sin, because the Bible says that you should be healthy and not overeat." I am appalled. APPALLED. I can't believe that people can be so ignorant about weight. I could not believe the hurtful comments that people were flinging around like it was God's truth.

And I am well offended that people like Eddie Murphy are going to make money off of such ignorance. Well, I hope you have some nice audiences--I am never going to see a movie of yours again. Even "Dreamgirls" which I was waiting for like it was Moulin Rouge 2. Have a nice life.

Update from the DWG Club

Apparently, Laura, in answer to your question, Wikipedia confirms that although the Bears are on their way to the Superbowl, they still suck, having only won 8 championships versus the Packer's 12. Not that I care. See for yourself!

What was I saying? Oh, right. Today's dead white guy is Leslie Howard, who I had a dream about.
It was about him being in the RAF and being shot down by the Germans, only to escape to Hungary where he managed to survive because he could speak Hungarian because his parents were Hungarian immigrants, only he didn't realise that he was Leslie Howard, stage and screen icon, because he had amnesia, until thirty years after the war when someone snuck an illegal copy of "Gone With the Wind" into the country and he recognised himself and realised that that's what all those weird memories of fighting in an American war were about. I woke up all excited, thinking I should write a movie about it, but when I did more research, I learned that Leslie Howard wasn't in the RAF. He was a civilian/patriot/activist who visited the troops overseas and may have potentially been involved in spying activities. Returning home from Spain, the commuter flight he was on (in one of the "safe" flying channels over the, um, Channel)was shot down by zer Germans. Subsequent research has proven that they were probably not happy about his war efforts and rumours of his spying were the icing on the cake, and there was a direct order to target him specifically. Which is a hella story, but alas, I would have to ignore too much history to get a good movie out of it.

I am so tired today. Officially I am looking after twelve people, and am using two desks to check calendars and send emails. The only good moment of my day was when I went up to the ninth floor to deliver more coffee cups, and looked out the window at a Sky that looked exactly like my favourite Turner painting, stretched out over the skyline of my favourite city. It was so achingly beautiful. It's not fair.

itchy wool sweaters!!!

It's finally cold here, although I had to laugh at the inch of salt on the sidewalks for the fistful of spitty snow that we got last night. Am wearing my green wool sweater which itches a lot but which is, despite appearances, the warmest thing I own.

I'm enjoying my last week at work--it's mostly making sure that everything is caught up so Lois can pick up where I left off--but I'm also helping other people with time consuming things, like filling out slow-loading webpages and being on hold. I spent a lot of time on hold today, to Spain, which has some great hold music. Here's a conversation I had with one of my bosses:

Me: Hello, Rick, what's up?
Rick: (who is an American) Ah, geez, I'm going to need to change my flights... (Rick has been working in Frankfurt for the last two months)
Me: Okay, let me get your calendar... (which is on the computer and is slow)
Rick: Last week, huh? How's everything going there?
Me: Oh, you know, not too bad. Spent most of the morning on Wikipedia reading about the Victory.
Rick: Victory? What? I thought you were a Packers fan!
Me: What?
Rick: The Bears victory--they're going to the Superbowl.
Me: No, Rick, I was reading about HMS Victory, you know, Nelson's flagship at the Battle of Trafalgar.
Rick: Oh. (pause) Of course.
Me: But, if I did care about football, I would root for the Bears.
Rick: Me too. The Colts beat the Eagles last week. (Rick is from Philadelphia)
Me: I'm very sorry to hear that.
Rick: Yeah, well.
Me: Nelson and Victory!
Rick: What?
Me: Your calendar finally loaded.

I was wondering what to blog about...

…when I got an answer to my Question.

Has anyone else tried Yahoo Questions? They’re great. You ask a question and then anyone can answer it. I’ve used it on several occasions when I needed a new idea. It feels a little bit like a magic eight ball—you never know what you’re going to get. My last question was simply “What historical things should I see in Paris?” with a little explanation saying that I’m ded interested in Napoleon, the time surrounding the Revolution, etc. I expected some well informed French people to direct me to historically interesting buildings and sights, but instead I get this:

“You should find all the sites where the french decided to enter a war then need help from other countries, or where they hide when under attack.”

I was so incensed I reported the jerk for abuse. I only wish I could have strangled him with the French flag while singing “Marseilles” and pouring wine into his eyes. No, no, sorry, what I really wanted to do was tie him to a chair and give him a history lesson. I’m no expert on French history, but I can think of several events where the French did not run and hide, the first being, of course NAPOLEON who conquered most of Europe and is considered, in some circles, to be the first reincarnation of the Antichrist. The second being, of course, the time the French lent us their Navy and military expertise so that we could defeat the British in the War of Independence. The third being the French Underground during WWII—probably the reason this ill informed jerkface thinks the French like to “surrender” is because the government chose to let Hitler take over rather than have him bomb Paris into the ground only for the inevitable to happen. If they hadn’t, all the sights everyone else is suggesting I see would probably have been reduced to rubble. Think about all the buildings in London that are gone, pockmarked or were rebuilt after the Blitz. Personally, I’d rather have the Louvre than the Barbican. Or maybe I'm giving him too much credit: he was probably thinking of the time that France chose to stand up to America's bullying and didn't support the invasion of Iraq. These are the kind of idiots that make my blood boil with their nasty, blinkered, stupid remarks that have NO BASIS in anything other than ignorance. Ah! Viva le France! Death to ignorance!

“Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !”

What weekend?

Friday was another longish day, but Alison and I ended it by watching "That Hamilton Woman" and drinking a bottle of wine. Well, okay, I ended up drinking most of the wine, but it only made the movie better. Our favourite part was the bit where Nelson makes the decision to go back and rescue Emma from Revolutionary forces: "Collingwood. You rendezvous off Malta. Hardy, continue on and join up with the fleet. I'm going back to Naples." To which we merrily chimed in "Fetch me my rowboat! Er--just one oar! On second thought, get me a kayak with one of those double paddle thingys!" At which point we collapsed on the ground laughing. Okay, you had to be there, but, damn, this movie is so historically inaccurate and full of character assasinations that it's just a joy to watch. As a matter of fact, about the only thing they got right was "kiss me, Hardy!"

Not that it matters, but the wine we were drinking was from an Australian company called--you guessed it--Hardy's, and I highly recommend it.

So then last night we felt the need to redeem ourselves by going to see something cultural. Luckily the English National Opera was putting on "The Marriage of Figaro" so we got up at the crack of eight, went for tickets, then came home, napped, got dressed up and sat for three and a half hours in THE MOST uncomfortable seats EVER whilst watching two hundred year old opera. I never thought of theatre as an endurance sport, but, really, I think I would have been happier standing. The ENO was started as a way to bring opera to the masses, so they do all their shows in English. A great idea in theory, but do you have any idea how inane shows sound when you're repeating the same thing over and over in English? And they also had the "translation" over the stage. But, nitpicky things aside (if I wanted accuracy, the Royal Opera House is just down the street and translations be dammed!) I really enjoyed this performance. The setting had been updated to 1920s England, so the Count was a boorish country squire strutting around in his hunting jacket, and Figaro was his scheming manservant. Think "Gosford Park." The sets were really amazing, but what absolutely killed me were the props in this show--during the overture you saw servants going about their every day chores and it was full of props: geese that were being plucked, wellington boots to be shined, brooms, buckets, etc. All period and all never seen after the first five minutes. Ow. I think my favourite character was Cherubino who is a young lad (played by a woman) who is just in love with being in love with every woman possible. Typical 17 year old. Watching him running around getting in and out of situations was the funniest part of the show. Final verdict: I think I could get into this opera thing, but next time we're going to see something in the original language.

Today I had an English breakfast, and, as it's not yet noon, signs are good that I might actually get some things accomplished. On the list: cleaning the bathroom, cleaning my bedroom, updating my resume, sorting through my clothes and books trying to figure out what I need (should I keep my A to Z if I'm never coming back? Ahhh!) , looking for a job, doing research for my Paris trip (wait, Napoleon might not be buried in Napoleon's tomb? do tell!), get pizza because there's a show tonight called "The Trial of Tony Blair" that I want to watch and basically become a productive citizen so I can adopt a dog. I'll let you know how far through that list I get.

cranky. need dog.

I’m also cranky because the humane society in Fon du Lac turned down my application for one of their dogs, suggesting politely that I might want to get settled first. Fair enough. But I don’t know WHERE I want to settle. After the temperate winters of London, I’m not looking forward to living in Wisconsin again, but I don’t know where to go. The huge fact that I need to find A Job, A Place to Live and a New Sense of Purpose in the next two months is overwhelming. I just want to put my head under the duvet. I don’t like starting over again. I just want to settle down somewhere and do my bathroom in a “Nile” theme. (and by “nile” I mean “battle of” not fruity palm trees and alligators) Is that so much to ask?!

Underground weather

I wouldn’t normally write about something as boring as weather, but since they had to evacuate one of my company’s properties in Paris, cancelled the Eurostar for this evening and stopped all flights to and from Heathrow, I thought I would mention in passing that it is howling here. Not really raining in London, but elsewhere it is blowing fury. At this point, as I sit comfortably on the eighth floor, well above the whipping trees and turned out umbrellas, it’s more annoying than anything else, because we have six German directors here freaking out that they are unable to get home tonight. You say “ah! Mein flug geht nicht! Scheisse!” I say, “what a great opportunity to take in a West End show. And, being a six-figured salaried director, I can even afford the insane prices for the front of the stalls!” Mostly I’m just itchy to get out of here. I might actually make it out on time tonight—not that that means much, since I came in at 8:15 this morning. Dur.

What I really wanted to write about (and don’t worry, I’m off the clock) was the phrase “makes your blood run cold” which up until a few days ago I thought was just a figure of speech. That was until I read about a new set of Tube bombers who actually made it on the Tube and it was only because their bombs were poorly made that they failed to go off and so another crisis was averted. They were captured and now they're on trial. I read about the first days of this trial in the Metro and I literally felt my blood run cold—it started in my scalp behind my ears and pooled down between my shoulders. I am a blender of emotions at this. Mad, that someone would dare take a bomb on my favourite form of transportation. Terrified, that I could be on that favourite mode of transportation and something might happen. Worried, that events like this are slowly warping my still-developing attitudes towards minorities. (yes, they are Muslim, but can I just say that I’m hacked off that all newspapers feel the need to point out the bomb material was packed in with chapatti flour, thereby indicating firmly that these men are “other” because God knows if a white person were to make a bomb it would have safe, normal white flour) Where was I? Oh yes, and stressed out that it’s just one more thing to worry about. At this rate, I won’t need to be sad about leaving London, I’ll be ready to go. Who needs to hear about this kind of thing day after day and always be on your guard? Not I, say I.

Bit of presidential news, another naval movie, some complaining & no sleep

If your secretary has stayed until 7:30 the night before to rush a project over to the printers as soon as it is finished you do NOT say to her the next morning as she hands you part one "Where's part two? It was finished last night, why hasn't it been printed?" You congratulate her for her dedication to the project and say you are confident that part two will appear before three pm when it is needed. You do NOT get pissy because it is in fact YOUR fault that your associate-director did not make the 100 page presentation priority 1. The noble, hardworking secretary has just clocked up two hours of overtime waiting for YOU to get your act together and now she is going to arrange four different sets of flights for four different people to the same city because she is awesomely organised and you, ahem, are not.

Walked into the house (at 8:10!!!) last night to a bit of good news. Two bits, actually. The first was a shiny copy of "That Hamilton Woman." So now I am the proud owner of a totally bootlegged copy ("starring Laurence Olivier as Lord of Horatio Nelson!")of one of my favourite films. The best part is that since I own a copy I can get some screenshots of all the breechy and non-period costume goodness.

Second bit of good news, which hazily penetrated my tired brain as I checked my email for the last time, was the fact that Barak Obama has created an exploratory committee to see about this presidential thingy. Wait, that was too Bush-like: I mean to say that he has formed an exploratory presidential committee to see if making a bid to become the Democrats nominee was feasible. He's expected to make a formal announcement on February 10th in Illinois. I'm so glad that he's running. I really like Barak Obama. I think he is a very smart person who has the best quality of all in a politician: the ability to listen to people. I'm so excited that he's going to run for president. I know I'M definitely ready for a young president who hasn't had time to become tainted by the process of gladhanding your way to the top. Most people say that his lack of experience will hurt him, I say it can't hurt any more than 8 years of President W did. I can't wait to see what he does with this campaign. For the first time in awhile I am excited about a candidate, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

More info

"If I must have an opponent, let it be a coalition."

Thank you, Napoleon. Just another quote I would use to illustrate the idea that those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it. A coalition, huh? Like between the US and Iraq? hmmm...

Of course history isn't always fun. Last night I dreamt I was an aide-de-camp to the Duke of Wellington, and it was soooo boooooring. We were all sitting around and his grace was all like "ooh, I'm so clever, and then I was like "hey, do something!" and he was like "what?" and I was like "I dunno, invade France!" and he was like "well, I can't, because if I wreck this army, I can't get another one, so we have to be defensive," and I was like "wait, what year is this?" and he was like "1812" and I was like "aaargh, what a boring year! You're even boring in my dreams!"

And then I realised I was dreaming and I woke up freaked out that I forgot to set my alarm, so I checked and it WAS on, but it was also 6:40AM, and then I was mad because I had to get up in thirty minutes and I couldn't fall back asleep because I was afraid I'd wake up again and it would be 1832 or something and his conservative grace would be there boring me to death again about his policies of not reforming anything ever.

So I'm kind of tired today.

that's all I really wanted to say.

One day in Greenwich

Alison has also been very depressed lately, since she's leaving at the end of the month. I thought it would be a good idea if we got out of the house for awhile, so we went to Greenwich. Nothing unusual about that, only this time we took a ship. It was £3 for a Thames Clipper ticket, which took about twenty minutes. It was the most beautiful day possible, a bit chilly, but not unbearable. The sun was gorgeous and there was no clouds or smog. London is so gorgeous by river. We got dropped off on the other side of the river though, so we had to walk through the pedestrian tunnel which goes underneath. We went for tapas (Spanish food) under Alison's direction, and then wandered around the market for awhile before finishing off with cake and coffee. I even managed to find a new pin--there's a legend that Nelson killed a polar bear while he was 1st liuetenant in Canada, which is why they're nearing extinction--and this pin had a really funny picture of the teenage Nelson about to brain the polar bear with the stock of his rifle. It is just the most random thing to have on a pin, and I had to have it. Then we took the DLR (electric driverless trains) back into the city.

It was just a gorgeous perfect day. I think we were both happy to wander around in our city and enjoy the hell out of it. And you know me, add ship and I am happy. Still, I can't help wondering when I'll get back to Greenwich again, which is why I bought the pin. I am absolutely dead though. So much walking and Spanish food and about a pound of chocolate cake. It's only 7 here, but I might turn in early. I have a new book: "The Age of Misrule." Legends and gods come back to life in modern London. So far I've recognised all the places, from Wandsworth Common to Clapham Junction. whoo.

One day in Greenwich

Alison has also been very depressed lately, since she's leaving at the end of the month. I thought it would be a good idea if we got out of the house for awhile, so we went to Greenwich. Nothing unusual about that, only this time we took a ship. It was £3 for a Thames Clipper ticket, which took about twenty minutes. It was the most beautiful day possible, a bit chilly, but not unbearable. The sun was gorgeous and there was no clouds or smog. London is so gorgeous by river. We got dropped off on the other side of the river though, so we had to walk through the pedestrian tunnel which goes underneath. We went for tapas (Spanish food) under Alison's direction, and then wandered around the market for awhile before finishing off with cake and coffee. I even managed to find a new pin--there's a legend that Nelson killed a polar bear while he was 1st liuetenant in Canada, which is why they're nearing extinction--and this pin had a really funny picture of the teenage Nelson about to brain the polar bear with the stock of his rifle. It is just the most random thing to have on a pin, and I had to have it. Then we took the DLR (electric driverless trains) back into the city.

It was just a gorgeous perfect day. I think we were both happy to wander around in our city and enjoy the hell out of it. And you know me, add ship and I am happy. Still, I can't help wondering when I'll get back to Greenwich again, which is why I bought the pin. I am absolutely dead though. So much walking and Spanish food and about a pound of chocolate cake. It's only 7 here, but I might turn in early. I have a new book: "The Age of Misrule." Legends and gods come back to life in modern London. So far I've recognised all the places, from Wandsworth Common to Clapham Junction. whoo.

sad panda

I talked with the HR person at work yesterday, and she told me they were unable to hire me because they were unable to define a "role" that would justify hiring another full time person. However, she did ask me hopefully if I had managed to extend my visa, which leads me to think that if I was able to stay here legally, then I would be able to keep working. Or if I was English and they didn't have to go through the hassle of sponsoring me for a visa they would keep me working. Either way, come the 26th of January, I'm gone. I don't know why I'm so upset about losing my job. The only reason I can think is that it was the last hope I had for staying in London. But, as I try to reason to myself, would I really be happy working corporate full time? Surely after awhile I would get antsy for the theatre and then I'd be stuck working as a secretary. Well, we'll never know, will we?

I feel like London is breaking up with me. I didn't think it was possible to be dumped by a city but apparently it is. I find that I have an increasing aversion to living in a big city, so maybe now I'll have to find someplace small but arty and set up shop.

The good news is that I met the director and producer for the show that I'm stage managing in Feburary. I'm going to be working on a show abou two women, with a woman director and producer. Sounds like it should be very empowering. It will make a nice change from babysitting high flying corporate directors who have meetings in Paris on Monday and then Frankfurt on Tuesday and who need their flights changed, anyway. And! I did end up buying tickets to Paris. I will be staying with a friend, so now I can really go all out with the pursuing of historcal knowledge, commeorative statuettes of Napoleon and French food. Who knows, I might even try the snails.

An open letter to Naomi Novik, author of "Temeraire"

Dear Naomi Novik,

I tried to enjoy your book, but it was hard for me because you gave credit for some of the greatest naval victories ever to a bunch of dragons. (also your descriptive writing style is a little weak) The British navy didn't need dragons to blow up L' Orient! They did it themselves! And as for turning the battle of Trafalgar into a diversion tactic so Napoleon could invade England with dragons, shame on you. Although the idea of having dragons carrying over troop transports is...a very clever idea...NONETHELESS! To make up some fakey Dover invasion (when everyone knows Napoleon was planning on going through Ireland) just to have your pretty dragons fly around and save the day is unforgiveable. And to have Nelson survive the battle!

! ! !

How dare you. How very dare you. What, so now he's going to get fat and boring and be one of those old sailors telling sea stories only to be shouted down by people wanting to hear about the dragons? Pfff! I only hope that when Peter Jackson makes your book into a movie he will do justice to the British Navy. I suspect that you and I have a lot in common, Naomi. Couple a' Americans...history fangirls...who like magic... ships and breeches...you know. Typical, ordinary. Have you seen "Master and Commander?" You'd like it. I tried really hard to like your book, but I think I was just too biased in the opinion that history didn't need improving on. Now, if you could have had the dragons fighting AT the battle of Trafalgar, that would have been wicked. And if you could have somehow got Nelson ONTO a dragon, well, now that would have just been spectacular. AR. As it stands...well, sorry, but "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell" is still sadly solitary in my "alternate history" bookshelf section. But! Good description of the ship-py bits, and I've added "Temeraire" to the list of potential dog names (right after "Horatio"). And good luck on that movie. Forget England, Nicki expects to see the best.

Sincerely,
Nicki

The City of Light (and sugar)

All this reading about George Washington and visiting WWII museums has been making me think about sugar. I usually take one teaspoon in my tea, and I’m up to about three cups a day, so that’s quite a bit of sugar. I was contemplating this commodity this morning as the kettle at work boiled, how we as a modern society take it totally for granted that we will have sugar on our tables. White sugar, refined sugar, but the crystally stuff we have grown up with. We had to learn that honey, maple syrup, and the like were perfectly acceptable substitutes for tea.

The reason I was thinking about sugar was because I want to go to Paris for a weekend, and the Eurostar has a deal where I can get tikkies for about 80 pounds. easyJet, on the other hand, has tickets for about 20 pounds. Round-trip. I’m not a huge fan of flying, I’d rather take the train, which is also better for the environment. But for that price, I think I may have to fly. My work colleague pointed out that the plane is going anyway—and if I’m environmentally conscious, it’s better for the plane to fly full than it is to fly half empty. She also pointed out that 60 pounds is over 100 euros, “and think of all the French clothes you could buy!” Commemorative statuettes of Napoleon, more like. I could dig in my heels though and demand cheaper train tickets but unless I get several planeloads of people to dig in with me, I’m not likely to change anything. Which brings me back to Washington. Like most of the Virginia planter class, he was in debt to several British companies, but unlike most of them, he did something about it by deciding to act locally. Rather than order everything from abroad, he started having his clothes made in Virginia, growing crops he could sell directly to buyers without the middleman and, yes, buying his supplies (including sugar) from American suppliers. Along the way indicating, of course, that the best way to throw off the yoke of British oppression was to stop buying their goods. A good example of “think globally, act locally.” I haven’t been acting very locally lately. But I want to go to Paris. I don’t know if I can balance out the act of flying to another country by other good deeds such as buying British-grown produce, fair-trade coffee and recycling. I know a lot of people roll their eyes at my minor attempts to be a good Earth citizen (or rather, at my picking and choosing which bits to be militant about) but I will keep trying.

And I am going to Paris. Damnit. It’s not fair that a student of history is kept away from the seat of one of the most explosive revolutions in the world while suited businessmen jaunt over for the day to attend meetings where they discuss how to tear down historical buildings just because she is trying to save the planet. Damnit.

Hanging the dictator

It is so humid and rainy today that my hair is literally corkscrewing until it looks like something more appropriate for a painting by Van Dyck.

So I was reading on BBC.com that all the remaining charges against Saddam Hussein have been dropped. 'Cause he's dead. I will refain from making an inappropriate pun on the word "dropped" but it did cross my mind. Saddam's collaborators, however, are still on trial. I still don't know how I feel about this whole trial thingy. I suggested to a friend that perhaps we should have put him on an island, the same way the English did with Napoleon, and this friend said that this would just put him above the law--and under democracy, no one is above the law. Fair enough. I can see his point. But I also wonder if perhaps the US (or UN) shouldn't have just held onto him in prison. Instead of turning him into a martyr, keeping him as a symbol: We took your leader, but we are merciful enough not to kill him.

Of course, then there's the other side of this, which is that any defence of Saddam's execution sounds like a defence of the man himself. And while I wholly support him being punished, I can't help wondering who's going to put W on trial for "crimes against humanity." It's such an ambigous term. Aren't we all humanity? Wouldn't a person who murdered one human be guilty of "crimes against humanity?" I read an article in the Guardian yesterday that compared Saddam's trial with the Nuremberg trials. The main differences, as far as I could tell, was that in the '40s, the perpetrators were not handed over to the country they had wronged, instead they were tried by an international court. As the first time this had ever been done, the prosecutors there were anxious to make it fair. From my hugely underinformed view, they were fairly fair. Any ten year old can tell you life's not fair. But the attempt should be made at impartiality. If we insist on imposing our western morals and ideals on the rest of the world, then we should be trying harder than ANYONE to get things fair. Saddam's trial should have had the same anxiety about it, but I imagine it was hard to get impartiality when the judge was from a village that Saddam bombed and had lost relatives. I've read about how great it is that this judge gets to preside over his opressor's trial, but...if it would preclude you from jury duty, surely there must be someone who's less directly affected. There is such a fervour about this man and his actions that I feel like it would have been impossible for him to get a fair trial anywhere in the Middle East. I also feel like the US was too busy making it look like Iraq was capable of having a judiciary system to worry overmuch about fairness. And what about those other 146 charges that were dropped? Perhaps the real punishment should have been sitting through those trials, coming face to face with your victims.

Well, he's dead anyway. And we've all got the pictures to prove it. Our generation's dead dictator photo, like Mussolini, perhaps. During the American Civil War, Union troops dug up George Washington's body and brought him further north so that Confederates couldn't hold it for ransom. I wonder how long Saddam's body and image will remain a potent symbol for his followers. My guess is a lot longer than most people think.

get my history on

Today was a day when any sane person would have stayed inside. It was rainy. It was cold. But apparently there are not a lot of sane people in London because the streets were full of sightseers--myself included. I went to the War Cabinet Rooms, where Churchill and his cabinet worked during World War II expecting it to be fairly quiet, but there were actually a lot of people there. Then again, maybe it just felt that way because we were in an underground bunker. This bunker was converted from a basement under Whitehall and was bomb-proofed so that Churchill could fight on the seas ans oceans even through the Blitz. It was ded interesting. After the war the staff tidied up, locked the doors and left so everything was pretty much as it was in 1945 (with the addition of some cleverly-placed plexiglass). My favourite room was the typing pool: six secretaries had enough work to keep them busy 24 hours a day cramped into a space about the size of my bedroom. Or the original map of the Atlantic ocean where they tracked convoys with pins, the routes clearly visible because of the holes.

There was also a museum on Churchill's life. I don't know much about Churchill, he always sort of struck me as slightly arrogant, but the displays on his life were fair and informative. Maybe slightly too informative--there was so much interactive displayage that at times I wasn't sure if I was supposed to touch the TV, wave at it, do a little dance in front of it or say anti-communist slogans to get into the menus. The best part was definitely the display of Churchill's favourite things: his cigar...his champagne...his favourite silk nightshirt...his favourite movie starring Olivier and Leigh as Nelson and Emma... Also the portrait of him from 1878 looking like a poncy little girl with ringlets. But what a life, eh? To be born in the throes of the Victorian Era, to serve in WWI, lead in WWII and end your political career trying to the USSR and USA about their nuclear problem. I think I begin to understand the post WWII mentality of Britain. I need to learn more about the 20th century Britain though. I was telling Alison that I feel bad that all of the books I've been reading, all the thinking I've been doing has been about dead white guys "...but, then again, there's just...so many of them."

(speaking of dead white guys...I ducked into the National Portrait Gallery to get out of the rain for a few minutes and discovered that the Nelson watches from last year were on sale and I...er...yeah. ask me what time it is. )

Afterward, Alison, Lisa and I met up and went out for cake and tea at a patisserie in Soho at a place called Amato. Cake like the angels eat. I had a Black Forest Gateaux that threatened to float away it was so light and fluffy. Yes, a good day, even if my jeans were wet up to the knees. I love London. Even in the rain--maybe even especially in the rain--this is the best city in the world.

hand me something sharp

“Hello, National Theatre box office, how can I help you?”
“Yeah, hello, I’m calling about ‘Caroline, or Change?’ I wanted to book tickets? But I looked on your website and it wasn’t listed anymore, so I was wondering if it—“
“It closed last night.”
“WHAT?! Oh my God! I’m sorry, I just—what? I am going to have to go and stick something sharp in my eye. I can’t believe—aaargh!”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“What? Oh, no, no thanks. You have a nice night.”

I am such and idiot. IDIOT. I don’t deserve to live in a big city with lots of theatre and other cultural opportunities. I cannot BELIEVE I let “Caroline, or Change” slip by without seeing it!!! Seriously, what kind of a moron am I? I’m so mad at myself I could spit. Or drink my tea in what I hope is a suitably angry fashion. And I have no one to blame but myself. And you know what the most annoying part is? I wasn’t even being lazy before Christmas—I saw loads of shows, had a brilliant time, but I just couldn’t prioritize. There’s just too much culture in this city. Grr. Well, that settles it: I’m going to see Love Song tomorrow before I forget and miss out on the awesomeness of Cillian Murphy.

Ideating

I have already complained about the crappy free newspapers handed out after work and forsworn both of them. They suck. The last thing I need after a stressful day at work is to get all het up about some Q-list celebrity with her bits circled and arrows pointing to it. Anything that uses "lollipop heads" and "muffin tops" to describe people is firmly out of my literary pool. But tonight I grabbed "The Epoch Times" which is a newspaper with actual words. And no celebrities. But lots of interesting things about the world at large and useful information, such as the fact that stevia is 300 times sweeter than sugar. The leaves can be ground up and used in place of sugar in coffee and tea. Where do I sign up? I'm so glad to have adult reading material on the Tube instead of furtively picking up leftovers and pretending to be disinteredly amusing myself. The sad part is it's only free on Wednesdays, but, hey, another reason to love Wednesdays!

I also read an article that said over 30% of Britains read a book every day. And apparently someone invented a machine ("the Espresso" -no, really) that can store 2.5 million books and spit one out on command for less than 2 cents a page. Price: $25,000.

The other star in my day occured when I stopped at the library and caught the word "Temeraire" out of the corner of my eye. HMS Temeraire being, of course, the ship that saved Victory's bacon at the battle of Trafalgar. I took the book out of the shelf and read the first paragraph on the back, which described what seemed like a fairly standard naval book. This is what the second paragraph says: "The war tearing Europe apart is not fought upon land and sea alone, for battalions also fill the sky. And the fiery death they bring has little to do with gunpowder-it comes from the very guts of the beasts they are flying: DRAGONS."

Damn. I don't even want to read it. I just want to contemplate the potential awesomeness of this book. I'll let you know how it turns out. Dragons and ships. Damn.

long Sunday afternoon...

Today was actually a pretty good day, considering that I only got about five hours of sleep last night and I was literally the only secretary there. At least I was busy. Most of the directors were gone (although Rick managed to call me three times on his day off) so it was mostly catching up on emails and confirming flight details.

When I look back over the last three weeks, I can't believe how quickly they flew by. The flight over was nice--thanks to Nytol I slept most of the way and arrived as stumbly as Jingles after a visit to the vet. Chris was courteous enough to pick me up and let me cry on her several times over the course of the evening. Before I left mom warned me that my uncle was coming home from the hospital and when I called her to say I arrived safely I found out that he passed away. I was so glad that I could detox and deal with culture shock at a friendly house--I think I might have frightened my parents with my combination of jetlag, Nytol withdrawl, stress and drama. Luckily, I reentered society fairly quickly--two days after I landed I was watching the Packers game, drinking Spotted Cow and eating cheese curds.

The first week was taken up with memorial services for my uncle. The best way to describe him is like the title character in Mr. Holland's Opus, only more popular. It was so wonderful to see everyone in the family and all his former students, but I will be honest and say it was also very stressful.

I honestly spent most of my time watching TV and eating. And drinking good Wisconsin beer. Even when I went to visit my hetero-life mate, Laura, all we did was watch TV and drink beer. And bake cookies to eat. But it was so wonderful to not have to worry about the stress of work and getting on the Tube and being able to eat as much as I wanted and turn up the heat. I love going home and just hanging out. Although, I do tend to sort of flounce through stores now and go "GOD! aren't these clothes hideous?!" (not that that stopped me from spending an entire paycheck on new clothes. Woo.)

I didn't completely slack, however. I finally redeemed my Barnes and Noble giftcards for two books "Lies My Teacher Told Me" and "His Excellency" which is about George Washington. I don't know if my brain connected everything I read, but everytime I read a new idea or had a firmly held belief challenged I felt some neurons firing that had been dormant for quite a while. I LOVE READING! I love thinking. I'm going to become a teacher so I can stand up in front of a class of students and wave books at them while screaming about how cool George Washington is.

I spent Christmas Eve at my Aunt Margie's house with her family--the best part was my little cousins Katie and John helping everyone to open their pressies. That's the problem with our family: not enough babies. Christmas Day we had our open house and invited all our family back. I did my best to inflict damage on my mom's cooking, but, alas, I was repealed by sheer numbers of meatballs, weenies and cheesy potatoes. Which is probably why we spent the days before New Year's sleeping in front of the TV. (although I did see "Night at the Museum." Best part: Civil War dummies getting shot and "bleeding" stuffing. haha.)

So now I'm back in London. I wrote in my journal the other night "I don't know whether I'm happy to be back in England, or just happy to be back in some kind of routine," but I did have to have a stern talking to myself about getting nostalgic about the smell of bus fumes.

New Year's Resolutions:
1. Be better about financial things and not spending money like slippery water.
2. Get serious about being a vegetarian.

As soon as I finish this buffalo wing sauce...

...and it goes by the name of London.

Hello everyone. I hate New Year's Eve, but this year at least I have an excuse to stay inside and be boring: namely, jetlag and driving rain. I wanted to go down to Trafalgar Square and see the fireworks but...well, it's not like I've never been to Trafalgar Square before.

Yes, I landed safely. I will write more about my trip there and back later and the bittersweetness of being here for what might be the last time. I got a treat coming in this morning though: for the first time ever we went into a holding pattern over the city and I could see all the landmarks out my window: the Eye, Tower Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, Charing Cross Station and (I think) Nelson's Column. Everything was lit up and beautiful, clean and quiet from the sky. No place like it.

all I want for my birthday...

"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows"

It's official!

So if you care to find me, look to the western sky

Nickilovesdrama is taking a holiday. There is too much drama in my life right now for one little ol' blog, so I'm going to leave it for a couple weeks until things settle down. In the meantime, here's a picture of a ship.

Four more days

"You cannot conceive what I feel, when I call you all to my remembrance."
-Nelson to Emma, 1799

Somehow "I miss everyone" sounds so much better when Nelson is saying it.

Everyone is infighting at work. The secretaries are all accusing one another of fobbing their work off on other people because they're spending all their time screwing around, and the receptionist is mad because she hasn't had enough time to finish her embroidery due to the increased meetings. I'm just trying to stay out of it...everyone likes me because I'M the one they all fob their work off on and I'm willing to sit there and nod politely when they all shout about one another. Every time my boss calls me from Frankfurt where he's been living for the last three weeks he moans about how he's going to miss the Christmas party, AND his three daughters various Christmas plays. It's very hard for me to feel sorry for him though--surely if he's as highly paid and indespensible to the company as he says he is, he could make it home to go to the Nativity play.

Oh well. I am, as I said, just trying to stay out about it. I start to get stressed...but then I remember I'm coming home in a week. I bought purple shoes today. That made me happy.

Books have the same enemies as people: fire, humidity, animals, weather, and their own content.

-Paul Valery

I stole this article from forbes.com. Something to think about...

"Harry Potter and the Ministry of Fire"
by David Serchuk

In August 2003, two Michigan pastors, T.D. Turner Sr. and son T.D. Turner Jr., took a stand against sorcery by burning a Harry Potter book outside their Jesus Non-Denominational Church. The younger Turner, Tommy, says that while he hadn't read the book, the cover alone showed him it promoted wizardry, adding that Potter-related Web sites were gateways to harder stuff. The last straw came when a local girl tried to perform a magic spell. (She was unable, as far as we can tell, to turn anybody into a newt.)

"Parents [have to] realize this is more than a fictional book," says Turner. "It's attached to the occult."

The fire so inflamed parishioners' passions that, according to the Detroit Free Press, some of the 50 spectators proceeded to burn the Book of Mormon, a non-King James edition of the Bible, and even the Dan Aykroyd movie Coneheads. Turner regrets that things got out of control, but adds, "Since the burning, our ministry is growing and can seat another 400 members," he says. "God has been blessing us."

In their disdain for Harry Potter, the Turners are not alone. The boy wizard has inspired fundamentalists all over the U.S. to destroy his books. There have been half a dozen Potter book burnings in the past five years.

In some cases, though, the books weren't actually burned. In two towns, Cedar Rapids, Iowa, and Lewiston, Maine, local fire stations denied book-burning permits. One pastor, Douglas Taylor of the Jesus Party in Lewiston, undeterred, slashed and destroyed 12 Potter books instead.

"The city warned me they would intervene if I burned [the Potter books]," says Taylor, who held the cuttings in 2001 and 2002, "because of the toxic emissions used by the ink." Taylor points out that he only burns books he purchases. Also, he, like the Turners, is against the government censoring of the books; but unlike the Turners, he read most of one. He takes pride that at both book "cuttings," he allowed his opponents to speak at his microphone and question him. Some protesters even destroyed Bibles. "It didn't bother me at all," he says. "It's the message, not the print on the page."

As to why Taylor chose J.K. Rowling's books instead of something more sinister, the reason is clear: publicity. "Rowling has a world platform. I though I'd step up and share it with her," Taylor says.

Ray Bradbury, however, thinks that Taylor is deluded. The 86-year-old author of the anti-censorship novel Fahrenheit 451 is a passionate advocate of free speech and believes Taylor and his ilk are at best clueless about their actions.

"He [Taylor] doesn't know what witchcraft is," says Bradbury. "It's about wits. There's nothing wrong with the Potter books, because they're not promoting witchcraft. They're promoting being wise."

Regarding Taylor himself, Bradbury is succinct: "He sounds like a stupid man. He just shoots off his mouth, and he should just go somewhere, sit down and shut up."

It's hard to know exactly how many books are burned in the U.S. each year. The group that keeps the best tabs on this, the American Library Association, updates an anti-book burning Web site with links from around the country, but it resists a hard count of books burned. Indeed, Third Reich-style bonfires have never been popular in the U.S., says Judith Krug, director of the Office for Intellectual Freedom of the ALA. "Setting bonfires is either viewed as just stupid or amusing," says Krug. "It's amusing, because [book burners] are too dumb to find other outlets. We get hysterical about sex, yet the general feeling is, 'I won't let some yahoo tell me what to read.'"

However, that is exactly what Americans did through most of late 1800s and early 1900s, when Anthony Comstock reigned supreme as the nation's self-appointed censor. In 1866, Comstock started the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice, which had as its seal a picture of a top-hatted man burning a pile of books. Incensed by "lewdness," Comstock worked the halls of Congress and in 1873 got passed the "Act of the Suppression of Trade in, and Circulation of, Obscene Literature and Articles of Immoral Use," otherwise known as the Comstock Act. Soon thereafter, Congress made Comstock a special agent of the Post Office, giving him the power to arrest distributors of lewd or unwholesome materials, as judged by him.

Comstock--in a career that didn't end until his death in 1915--claimed he'd destroyed 160 tons of obscene literature and arrested some 3,600 purveyors of prurient material.

Though Comstock's influence has waned, outside the U.S., book burning is still in fashion. In May of this year, protesters in the Philippines and Italy burned copies of The Da Vinci Code to coincide with the release of the film version. In a tragicomic note, the Philippine Daily Inquirer pointed out that due to the high cost of the book, protesters likely only burned three copies of it, adding photocopies to make the pyre higher. In Ceccano, Italy, only one copy of the book was burned, even as protesters hurled tomatoes at the burners.

Perhaps the most famous burning of all time occurred at the Royal Library at Alexandria, Egypt, one of the great repositories of learning in the ancient world, which held 40,000 manuscripts, many irreplaceable. Accounts differ about who ultimately burned the library; some say it was Julius Caesar in 47 or 48 B.C., who torched it inadvertently during battle with his arch-enemy Pompey. Others say the decisive burning occurred in A.D. 642, overseen by Omar, Caliph of Baghdad.

What is not in dispute is that the library burned, taking many of the great works of the ancient world with it. In particular, the playwright Aeschylus' work suffered when the great storehouse burned. Today, just seven of his plays survive, though he wrote 90. The reason? Just one copy of his completed texts existed--they were never reproduced--and they were housed at Alexandria.

But even Aeschylus is lucky compared to the Greek poet Sappho, who lived circa 600 B.C. Famed for her revolutionary approach that expressed feelings of romantic longing, her work was destroyed first by early Christians around the year 400 and later by Pope Gregory VII in 1073, leaving just one complete poem existent.

Of course, the Bible has offended those in power for centuries, and it has been frequently burned. William Tyndale is perhaps little remembered today, but in 1526, he printed the first-ever New Testament in English. The Bishop of London, not happy to see the Word so easily put in the hands of the laity, hunted Tyndale and his books down, burning them where he could. The plot almost worked, as just two copies of the book survived. But survive, and eventually thrive, the books did, even though Tyndale himself did not. He was burned at the stake in 1536. His last words: "Lord, open the eyes of the King of England." But perhaps a more fitting epitaph could be his most famous turn of phrase: "Let there be light."

"I've been thinking--" "I know, I heard!"

I went to see "WICKED" tonight with my roommate and her boyfriend. I had to see it before I leave for home, since Idina MEnzel, the woman who originated the role on Broadway is only going to be here until Christmas. (and then the girl who originated the role of "Meat" in "We Will Rock You" is going to take over. Which reminds me, I also need to egg Ben Elton before I leave...) So we went to the Victoria Apollo which is a gorgeous art deco theatre near Victoria station. The lobby is a riot of deco and it's all...green! How appropriate.

The show was really good. Not amazing, but a really solid piece of musical theatre. I would have liked more politics than this faffing about with people being popular, but I think for the type of show they were going for they definitely succeded. So the twelve year olds in front of me led the standing applause charge, but I was left sitting in the middle of the second act going "wait! wait! Explore this theme of looks vs identity! Please!"

The star of the show was without a doubt Idina Menzel and she rocked. Oh Lord, she has a golden voice. And you could see that she had spent longer with her character than any of the other actors: the woman playing Glinda looked like an understudy next to her. One of the annoying points was that the English actors used their own accents, which is fine, but when they were singing the vowel sounds didn't match up, so they sounded out of tune with each other. Thank you, vocal training. I could have listened to Idina all night. I'm slightly mollified that she stole the Tony from Tonya Pinkins, but I need to see "Caroline, or Change" this week as well to make sure it was still awarded correctly.

I think my favourite part had to be the costumes but I'm not sure I liked the ones people wore for the OzDust Ballroom, they looked too modern. I was also pleased to see that James Gillam, the man who played Hinckley in the Sheffield version of Assassins was in Wicked as Boq. I'm glad to see he managed to get over his obsession with Glinda just so he could become obsessed with Jodie Foster and try to shoot Reagan. Brings a whole new meaning to the words "kill the witch!"

tragedy + 2 minutes = comedy

I don't know if anyone has heard about the Russian spy who's died in London recently, but it's starting to turn into a secret agent movie from the 1960s. Apparently Alexander Litveneko, an outspoken critic of Putin's new Russian government, was poisoned with radioactive material at his favourite sushi restaurant. Now the British government is trying to find out who killed him. Luckily radioactive material leaves a radioactive trace wherever it goes, so they've been able to follow it around the city of London like one of those "Family Circus" cartoons. The Russian government denies all involvement, of course, but they're not exactly forthcoming with information, as you can imagine. One of the places Scotland Yard has found radiation is on 3 Boeing 767s which are owned by BA, and which have been in service for the past month. They've been grounded for tests, but BA has had to release a list of flights that were affected. This in turn has thrown the secretarial pool here at the office into something of a whirl, as it transpires that some of our directors may have been on these planes. Unless they were licking the guy who was holding the poison, however, there's not much chance they are radioactive. Besides, there would have been a few tell-tale signs: hair loss, vomiting, glowing green, etc. I joke, but seriously, this whole thing is like a bad pitch for the next Austin Powers movie: "Okay, so after getting off the plane and poisoning the Russian, Austin goes for a walk around Harrods and then has a night out clubbing before staggering around Soho for a few hours and then passing out in a doorway." And there's nothing like watching a highly paid executive going a delicate shade of pale when a group of mischevious secretaries point out to him that the flew on one of the Death Planes.

please move right down inside the carriage

I'm still enamoured of the Tube, just...not at 8:30 in the morning. There were "SEVERE DELAYS" on the Piccadilly line today, which made me 15 minutes late for work and "severely cranky." When a train is stopped in a station it's customary to leave the doors open so that people can get some air, but this also leaves you susceptible to more people pushing on--and I do mean pushing--even when we're already packed in like salted herrings for a long sea voyage. The Piccadilly line has the smallest carriages, literally, if you're standing by the door you can't stand up straight and they are narrower than any other line. So we were waiting in one of the stations for the train to move along when a man behind me said "Excuse me, could you move down inside the carriage?" Short answer: "no." Long answer: "No you bloody nutjob, there is not enough room for the people already on the train much less you and your overstuffed briefcase. Open your EYES." That didn't stop him from getting on huffily, as though I was deliberately preventing him from getting on by somehow making my body twice it's normal size. Long story short, I spent the rest of the ride groin-to-groin with the man in front AND the jerk behind me. Awwwk-wwward. Just don't make eye contact. Just don't look directly at him. Try not to think about how happy you are you buttoned your coat before you got on. Consider fainting on jerk behind you, but then realise he would probably toss you off at the next stop if it meant more room. Jerk.

If I stay in London, I'm going to move near Greenwich and take a boat to work everyday. At least that way, if it was full, I could pretend to be a pirate on my way to loot and plunder rather than some miner on the way to t'pit. Arrrrr.

how do you solve a problem like Nicole Marie?

I'll be seeing you in
All the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through

In that small cafe
That park across the way
The children's carousel,
the chestnut tree...
The wishing well.

I'll be seeing you in
Every single summer's day
In every thing that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you.


Arndis is going back to Iceland and I'm sad that another friend from London is leaving. I know so few people, and I'm usually only seeing them when they're coming or going. We split a bottle of wine last night, had some sirius conversation about Lupin's love life and then had ice-cream in Leicester Square. Very nice.

The thing that's been driving me crazy lately is everytime I get into a conversation with one of my friends is a certain Someone comes up, and whoever I'm talking with, they always say: "Go for it!" and I have to explain my reasons why not. They say "You are always promoting confessing your Luv! Go for it!" And then I have to say, oh yes, with my track record, hm, dead, gay and flat out not interested. Well done me. Naturally I can circumvent all my problems by fixating on certain dead actors but that...well that doesn't quite fix it, does it. Not the overarching problem. I have all of you, my lovely friends and family, but as I watch people pairing off all around me, I can't help but get worried. Impatient. Am I going to have to wait forever? Maybe. That's a scary idea. Well, I just won't think about it then. I've had quite enough romantic escapades for a while, thank you very much. That doesn't stop me from hoping though. It's the ultimate nature-vs-nurture problem: will all the influences finally convince me to write that long anguished email? or will the inherent introvert finally win the day?

another one for the dead and beautiful file

at least the sweet potatoes were good

The Menu:
Veggies, crackers and chees to start.
Turkey with sage and onion stuffing
Sweet potatoes with butter so thick with brown sugar you can stand a spoon up in it
Seven pounds of mashed potatoes
Cranberries with pomegranate and clementines
Fruit salad
Green bean salad with caramelized onions
Croissants
Apple pie with vanilla ice cream
Red wine

So then, Thanksgiving. I was really excited to cook Thanksgiving because I love cooking, and because my friend Mel has a sweet apartment and she let me completely take it over to make dinner for ten people, including my first turkey. (which was too dry, but that's okay, because we had Bisto) But of the five people I invited and messaged the night before saying "Hope to see you tomorrow!" only my roommate Alison came. And because I was busy supervising the turkey, we didn't have a chance to chat. She left early as well, so pretty soon it began to feel like I was cooking for Mel's friends. They were all very nice--especially the Aussie who asked me if I'd "heard" of "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell" and then couldn't get a word in edgewise while I quoted my favourite pages for ten minutes--but they weren't MY friends. I was feeling very upset that the people I handpicked to come couldn't even bother to send me an email and say "hey, can't make it, but have fun!" I thought it would be a good chance to catch up with these people, since I hadn't seen them in awhile. And it got late, and I probably had more wine than I should have...I got home by midnight, but today I'm being cranky and unhelpful. Not good. I suspect the people I invited who didn't come (all of whom are Brits) don't realise how big of a deal that Thanksgiving is, especially to me, so that not coming, or not letting me know that they're not coming is acceptable, but it's not.

I hope everyone else had a more cheerful Turkey Day than I did. Viva le Puritans!Next year I'm making pumpkin pie. From scratch. And I'm not sharing. Mrrr.

Filed under "C" for "Consumerism"

I really need to stop reading biographies before I go to bed, because I was dreaming all last night that I was fighting the French off the coast of Egypt and now I'm really tired after having to reload cannon all night.

Anyway, so I was reading online about a pair of Americans who bought a Playstaion 3 and then proceeded to smash it to pieces in front of other people who were waiting in line to purchase their PSP3. Apparently the PSP3 is this year's must-need gaming console, and people have been lining up for it for about two years now. (In Japan, businessmen were paying homeless people to queue for them--not kidding)These two Americans said it was to study the reaction of the people waiting. They also bought a second PSP3 to auction off to pay for their shennanigans. I'm not really fussed about them smashing a gaming console: it must be nice to have that kind of money. Me, I'd rather take my $300 and light it on fire, or perhaps use it to, I don't know, educate children in Africa or something. You can see a video of this stunt on youtube.com.

I was also reading this week about a movement called "No Shopping Day" which is a response to the shopping frenzy that occurs in America the day after Thanksgiving. It was started by a Canadian artist, and has spread worldwide. People who are involved in this engage in harmless activities like handing out used shopping bags, or putting old sneakers in the shiny Nike display at the store. The point is to make people aware of their mindless consumerism and to have them stop and think about where their goods come from, the kind of impact they're having on the world and perhaps even why they feel the need to give gifts to all and sundry. I fully support these consumer-warriors, since mindless consuming is something I do not enjoy. I like shopping for presents, but I'm usually on vacation, thinking "oh, won't Grandma like this tablecloth...oh, I miss Grandma..." instead of "Grandma will like me more because I bought her something." National No-Shopping Day is the day after Thanksgiving in the US and this Saturday in Britain. (Britain, not having Thanksgiving, has no buffer between Halloween and Christmas, which means I've been suffering through Christmas commericals since the first of November.)

So, don't buy anything on Friday! (or Saturday!) Recycle something instead! We can all make a difference if we just work together! (and recycle your old bags!)

I wish I was home

In a different place
In a different time
Different people around me
I would like to know of that different world
And how different they find me

Here I am alone
Though it feels the same
I don't know where I'm going
I'm here on my own
And it's not a game
And a strange wind is blowing

I'm so amazed
At the things that I see here
Don't want to be afraid
Don't want to be afraid
I just don't want to be here
In my mind this is clear
What am I doing here?

I wish I was home

"Soon As I Get Home" from The Wiz

I think my biggest problem is I have been homesick for most of my adult life, but I haven't really got a home to look forward too. Every now and then I get to thinking about how I'm going to have to move in February--whether it's another van job here in London or back to the States--and it seems so overwhelming that I just want to stick my head in the sand. Oh, to live in a place for more than nine months! To be able to paint walls and hang curtains and put David in my kitchen and Turner in my living room! To have all my books around me again in one place!--really, it's like being separated from children. I have got to find a place where I can settle down for a few years at least. I can live a big exciting life in a big exciting city--as long as I can have my own space.

steal this quiz

Everyone enjoyed my last quiz so much I thought I'd do another one--only this one is one that I came up with. I call it "A Quiz for Creative People" and I encourage everyone to copy it and fill it out.

1.Describe your favourite weather using a noun
Hammock weather!

2.If you could be alive during any time period, which would you choose? Why?
Probably 1770-1800s. the fashions would suit me, I think, and it would have been a very exciting time with all the new ideas and countries springing up everywhere.

3.Your favourite line of poetry?
“Rose leaves, when the rose is dead are heaped for the beloved’s bed.”
(Shelley)

4.Book that you’ve read more than once:
Gone With the Wind: 6 times and counting

5.Worst traveling memory.
Probably arriving in rainy Glasgow with mom and dad during Bank Holiday and discovering that due to the Stones playing there is not a hotel room within a 150 mile radius.

6.What fictional character do you most resemble?
Belle from Beauty and the Beast.

7.Due to Bush not signing the Kyoto Treaty, the ice-caps have melted and the sea level has risen. What mountain range do you go live on?
The Appalachians, somewhere near Tennessee or Kentucky

8.If you had a daemon, what would it be? Name?
Probably something funny yet dignified, like a duck called Kismet.

9.Your favourite nail polish colour.
Wine-red.

10.How do you express yourself creatively that pisses off the neighbors?
I tend to sing or listen to classical music really loudly while I’m cooking.

11.Dogs or cats?
Dogs plural.

12.Did you think the Beast was less hot at the end of Beauty and the Beast?
Yes!

13.What’s your comfort food?
Mom’s meatloaf. If I have to cook, hotdogs with mustard and onions.

14.What song do you sing in the shower?
Either my friend’s song “Thing You Can’t Change,” “Worst Pies in London” or Weird Al Yankovic (good for breathing and diction)

15.Do you name your electronics? Do tell.
My computer is named Grane, and my iPod is named Napoleon.

16.Have you ever wanted to leave a show at intermission? What was it?
Yes. Titanic. GOD what a horrible idea for a musical.

17.Your favourite word?
“Luminous”

18.Do you wear lipstick? Where do you wear it?
Sometimes. When I was younger I used to have some purple stuff I wore as eye shadow. Now I just wear it to work.

19.What’s your favourite part about your favourite holiday?
Christmas carols.

20.What kind of music are you listening to right now?
Thomas Tallis again—it gives a very chilled out feel to the workday.

21.Have you ever streaked?
Between my bedroom and the shower every night, teehee.

22.What’s your favourite way to travel?
On a boat!

23.Have you ever gotten a scar from doing a load-in? Where and how?
Several. Most recent was The Representative—I scraped my leg moving the seats.

24.Have you ever seen the aurora? How did it make you feel?
I saw it when I was coming home late in 2000…it made me feel really small but vitally sacred.

25.Your favourite way to end a piece of writing:
Blackout.

very important movie part 2!

very important movie!!

Sweeney Todd: the Demon Barber of Fleet Street is currently being made into a movie (as I'm sure you're all well aware) and it is being directed by Tim Burton. I greeted this news with some trepidation, as I have seen Tim Burton's work and I hold nothing against it except that it looks like the work of Tim Burton. I reserve judgement. THEN I hear that the Demon Barber is going to be played by Johnny Depp. Again, I am very, very nervous, anxious even, BUT apparently Mr. Depp had to audition for Sondheim, and if the composer thinks he can do it, then, fine. Again, I will wait and see. Helena Bonham Carter is going to play Mrs. Lovett, and despite my best efforts, genuine panic is beginning to rise. Mr. Burton had a master-class at the London International Film Festival a few weeks ago and I had half a mind to go down there: "Ah, yes, this question isn't about directing? I was just wondering if you were had any plans for Sweeney Todd? Like having Michael Cerveris do it? Please?" Then today--finally--some good news. Sacha Baron Cohen has been announced as Signor Pirelli, a small but vital role. (vital as in the jugular! haha!) Finally, an announcement I can get excited about. Mr. Baron Cohen is best known as the gentleman who is being sued by frat boys who claimed they were coerced into being in his movie and irritating the prime minister of Khazakstan and I think he is one of the funniest men alive today. I haven't seen "Borat" yet, but I will this weekend, just to make sure that he's up to Sweeney snuff.

I don't know why I've taken such a hugely personal interest in the casting and making of this film, except that I want it to be good. REALLY good. I know that some studio has picked it up to cash in on the recent spate of musical movies being made, but, unlike "High School Musical"* Sweeney is a genuine chance to introduce the world at large to what a REAL musical should look, sound and taste like. Chris Columbus had the chance with RENT, but we won't go there today.

Support Sweeney! I will keep you updated as info becomes available.


*shoot me. shoot me now.

Quest...ionnnare

Mom was wondering why I didn't brag more on my MA, then I realised that I don't really talk about myself on my blog anymore. Probably because my life is stationary right now. So I copied a quiz my friend sent me from Myspace and here it is. I took out all the lame questions though. Enjoy!

3.Describe a typical Sunday for you:
Church, battling for groceries, lounging in front of the telly, big supper, long shower and early bed.

4. Any odd routines you follow when you wake up?
I curse out my alarm clock

5. If alcohol was banned worldwide, what would your reaction be?
Laugh—it didn’t work in ’29, it ain’t gonna work now.

6. When was the last time you cried?
After seeing “Bent” by myself.

7. Your CD collection is going to be repossessed. You may keep one.
Just don’t take my iPod.

8. Do you believe world peace is possible?
Ever the optimist, I believe it’s possible. Likely? No.

9. I'm a genie. Name your wish. (Money and Love cannot be granted).
Cillian Murphy. Or, alternately, peace in the middle east.
…fine, peace in the middle east, THEN Cillian Murphy

10. Name one thing about the OPPOSITE sex that automatically turns you off.
Smoking

11. Name one thing about the SAME sex that automatically turns you off.
Whaletail

12. Speaking of SAME sex, what do you think of Brokeback Mountain?
I just can’t quit it.

14. Where are you?
At work, on the reception desk, aka Nicki’s email checking time.

15. Leatherface is in the kitchen. Will you fight to victory, or hide?
Probably hide.

16. Do you feel that people underestimate you?
They underestimate my strengths and overestimate my weaknesses.

17. When you're in a bad mood, what will always put you in a better mood?
Music and journaling. Or, alternately, yelling at people.

18. Honestly, do you talk about MySpace in real life?
Not really. But I do go on and on about my blog.

19. Have you met someone online in person?
Yes.

21. Do you believe minimum wage should be raised?
YES.

22. If someone at a bar gives you "the look" how do you respond to it?
Pretend they’re not interested then flirt voraciously.

23. Desperation happens. Do you take advantage of desperate people?
No, I’m usually one of the desperate ones. sigh.

24. Pretend you're 15 deep in beers. Describe what you would be doing now?
I never get that far because I HATE throwing up.

25. Does everyone in your life know the real you?
Yup, I wear my emotions on my sleeve.

26. What is something you're afraid of?
Republicans.

27. Pretend you took a hit out of a bong. Describe what you would be doing now?
Probably hearing my dad’s voice going “tsk, tsk.”

28. Have you ever had a beer bong?
No.

29. You have two weeks to live. Would you tell anyone?
Depends on what I was dying from.

31. A band you thought was cool when you were 15:
Queen, and they STILL ROCK!

32. You have a nightmare, who's the first person you think to call?
I don’t call anyone.

33. Wanna have kids before you're 30?
Yes, but not by myself.

34. A memory from high school?:
Freshman year, being in the play opposite the guy I absolutely loved and getting to faint into his arms.

35. Ever had a crush on one of your friend's parents?:
Yeeees….

36. Naughtiest thing you've done at work:
Updated my blog.

37. Do you look more like your mom, or your dad?
Mom.

38. Something you've always wanted to learn how to do:
Play piano

40. Where you'd like to be in 10 years?
“And the Academy award goes to…Dr. Nicole Lemery for ‘Nelson!’”

41. Something you learned about life:
If you love someone, you should tell them. It might hurt when they turn you down, but the world needs as much love as possible.

42. What do you want for your birthday?
Cillian Murphy.

TV loves me too

I stayed up last night to watch a documentary called "Jihad: The Men and Ideas Behind the Just War" which was endlessly fascinating. And a little terrifying. It was comprised mostly of interviews of people who were friends with bin Laden and other al-Qaida leaders, as well as academics who would look into the camera and casually say things like "Basically, if al-Quaida gets a nuclear weapon, they're going to use it. They're not interested in deterring anyone." I'm starting to get a better grasp on how the current movement gained such an ugly, extremist slant. At one point they were describing the death of an Egyptian official, saying "al-Zaharwi (sp?) and his group had decided this official was no longer a Muslim, and therefore it was okay to kill him." Well, damn. If they can say that about someone who professes the Muslim faith, then clearly there is no hope for the rest of us. I can also see (tho not necessarily agree with) the train of thought that says we should stop terrorists there rather than let them get us here. Both sides of the issue! Ahh! Confusing! Add to that Rudy Giuliani is thinking about running for President, and if he does I MIGHT SERIOUSLY HAVE TO CONSIDER VOTING FOR HIM! Especially since I haven't heard anything from the blue camp other than "Hilary! Hilary! Hilary!" Saints preserve us.

I was also thinking that it's funny that the Secretary of War* was renamed the Secretary of Defence after WWII, since we seem to have declared a lot of wars since then. But then I realised that maybe we ARE defending ourselves, going overseas and stopping terrorism. By declaring wars and invading countries. Right? Right? Aww, this is hard. I want to go be a hermit.



*The first Secretary of War was General Henry Knox, originally a seller of London books, who brought captured guns from Fort Ticonderoga which were used to sucessfully kick the British out of Boston in 1776. Later, George Lucas would use the Dixon-Ticonderoga #2 pencil (mentioned in the Mel Brook's musical "The Producers) to write Star Wars. I'm such a geek.

I want to break free...

The Big Boss from New York is in the office today, so everyone is in a tizzy, trying to look productive.* The name of the company I work for is a hyphenated one, and the gentleman in from New York has the name after the hyphen. I was mildly curious about what the president of a major corporation looked like, and was disappointed when he proved to be a completely stereotypical businessman. If I owned a company this big, I would definitely go around wearing loud shirts and demanding oddly flavoured tea.

I stayed up watching “The Two Towers” last night, then I couldn’t get to sleep. It wasn’t a problem this morning because I definitely overslept yesterday, but now I’m starting to feel the drag. And I have a headache. Ah, Mondays. I spent lunchtime in the park near Lincoln’s Inn, watching a guy exercising his dog. I pretended I was a hugely famous producer and he was my intern, exercising my pedigree whippet because I was finishing my organic salad while waiting for a call from New York. I love my imagination.

*except for me

Whose blog is this anyway?!

I just discovered a song by a 16th century composer named Thomas Tallis on my computer. Can't remember where it came from, but it is the most beautiful thing I've heard all day.

I went and saw "The Prestige" yesterday, and oh my Lord, it is a good 'un. RUN to the theatre, do not walk, do not pass go, IT IS AMAZING. I haven't seen such a solidly good movie since, uh...well, not for a LONG time. I can't believe how good it was. It's been 24 hours and I'm still raving about it.

The show closed last night, so I'm suffering from post-show depression. Mrrr.

The good news is I'm making curry for dinner.

A decision has been made regarding: The Future. Haven't quite picked the road yet, but I've got the destination...and yes, it involves me coming home. I'm going to see how I feel after I come home for Christmas, whether that means I'll be back in the US in February or September, but I'm going to be back on home soil sooner rather than later.

Feels good.

God, this is gorgeous music.

I also got a new tea set. I have a teapot (green, for creativity) but the other day I saw a gorgeous tea set in a chartiy shop for £1.50: a teapot, three cups with saucers, cream pitcher and sugar bowl. For some reason it didn't come home with me right then, but I gushed about it to Alison so effusively that when I came home the next day it was sitting on the counter waiting for me. Now I just need to get some silver spoons and we can have a tea party, even if the china is so thin I'm going to have to make uptight friends because I'm afraid the people I know will break them.

And the shops are putting out the Christmas things already. When is Thanksgiving? I'm cooking again this year (if you want to come, let me know), but I've got to get over to St. Martin's to pick up some Christmas cards and also a booklet of their Christmas music schedule. I wonder if I'll be able to hear the Britten again this year, I like that music.

It doesn't mean I'm going to be happy about leaving. I'm trying not to think about all the things I will miss... I won't think of that right now.

Damnit. It's too dark to see the keyboard.

A Sticker with Political Overtones

I was waiting for the bus last night when I noticed a sticker that someone had stuck onto the bus-stop. It looked like normal graffiti, until I read the message: “BRING SHARI’AH TO BRITAIN.” Helpfully, around the edges it said “An end to pornography. An end to violence. An end to alcohol-related problems. An end to the exploitation of women.” Etc. It was this last that put my ears back—I don’t think the system currently in place is perfect by a long shot, but the only it’s not is because women let themselves be exploited. I pulled the sticker off the window because, honestly, it made me a little angry, and I found it a little chilling. I feel as though the British government has tried very hard to extend a friendly hand to the Muslim community: they recently celebrated the end of Ramadan in Trafalgar Square, and MPs are angering constituents everywhere by renaming Christmas festivities “Winter Celebrations” but messages like that continue to appear.

I do not understand this radical religion.

I have had it explained to me several times, by people smarter than me: “Some Muslims believe that they must—MUST—force their religion on people.” It is a simple enough concept, but my brain just refuses to contemplate it. It’s as if there is a very stupid person living inside me going “Hang on. So, my options are be forced into a burka or be killed for my own honour? Wait. Why can’t we live and let live?” And then I have to have it explained again: because they want to spread their religion by any means necessary. And I don’t understand. I’m not going to clarify the situation by saying “this is a very small, vocal part of the Muslim community, most Muslims are content to worship in peace” because I know everyone knows that. I’m just very confused by the one percent or so of Muslims who aren’t content to worship in peace and who are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their ends. It’s all very bewildering. Especially when, in the course of one bus ride, I can see C of E church ladies with their plaid shopping baskets, Jewish men dressed sombrely in black hats and full beards, Indian teenagers in saris and Turkish men unloading Polish food into a grocery store advertising itself as “Continental.” I just don’t understand.

fun pictures!

I feel like I've been too serious lately, so here are some random pictures from the ol' desktop. Enjoy!

Christmas Comes Early

One of the actors on "Dogfight" asked me if Americans were as excited about foreign elections, because "I feel as though WE'RE having midterms!" Alas, no. But because of this close scrutiny, I've been able to keep up on what is going on back in the US of A, and I am very happy! The Democrats have taken back the House of Representatives! Whooooo! Although, it is a mixed blessing: I feel like I did when I first received news of the Battle of Trafalgar: Britain Victorious but Nelson is Dead! Only this time the Dems are victorious, but a couple of referendums in Wisconsin passed, alas, alas. Namely, the one defining marriage as a union between a man and a woman and one indicating to lawmakers that the good citizens of Wisconsin are actually in favour of the death penalty. Drrr. I think it's just that word "marriage" which I think is unfair: I'm going to campaign for civil unions between men and women. If most people consider marriage a religious institution, then what if you aren't religious? Or if you have an interfaith marriage? What's wrong with "united we stand?!" Am I the only one who sees the word "marriage" and hears "Mawwage!" from "Princess Bride| every time?!

And don't even get me started on the death penalty: anyone else seen "The Green Mile?"

But the voting American Public aren't the only ones giving me presents today. Last night I got an email from Mom saying that they had receieved my results and I passed! So now I am OFFICIALLY Nicole M. Lemery, MA. I love it. I'm going to order stationery for the express purpose of embossing "MA" after my name. It looks so good. I think the only thing that would look better is "Nicole M. Lemery, PhD."

stomachy problems

It suddenly occurs to me that I have been eating nothing but crap for the past week. I think my problem lies mainly in the aforementioned grocery-shopping agony. When I was going to school, I could go on a weekday morning, in the afternoon, whenever I needed to. And I had piles of time to cook. Now I HAVE to go on the weekends, or after work, when everyone else on God's green creation is there (with their children!) and they are all in my way. It is so stressful. So I have come up with a neat solution, namely, to eat takeaway all the time. Takeaway, for my American friends, is not McDonalds or Subway, those oh-so-healthy staples of a Point load-in, but local shops that involve soggy food and low hygeine standards. So I had a brat on Saturday, an English breakfast and pizza on Sunday, then today I had a chicken sandwich and a shish kebab from a Turkish place across from the Arcola. I'm not going back there though--the shish kebab was very good, but the man behind the counter skewered lamb meat onto kebabs, wrapped up someone's sandwich, and made change ALL WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS. The guy who served me at least had clean hands, but I only managed to eat about half my shish, which was approximately the size of a baseball bat. (Note to British friends: a baseball bat is like a cricket bat, only longer and rounder, which is the way God intended them to be.) Where was I? Oh, right, handing in my vegetarian card in shame. I don't know what happened--I think because I didn't eat for three days last week my mind is saying "whee! Make up for lost calories!" while my digestive system is saying "You're going to pay for that." What I want, basically, is for this bloody country to invent some decent salad dressing that doesn't taste like runny cardboard so I can make a SALAD and take it to work--we have three half used up bottles of dressing in the fridge, all of which taste so terrible that none of us have the stamina to finish them off. I like cooking, and I don't know how I went from someone who could start off with a handful of vegetables and end up with dinner to someone who can barely drag herself out of the kebab shop. I begin to see why Britain's government is so worried about the declining health of it's nation. A pile of salad on a kebab does not a healthy meal make. I'm going to brave the store again tomorrow, but please, please, please, someone put a bottle of Kraft ranch dressing in the mail for me, I will love you forever.

I'm also very excited because tomorrow is Election Day. Yay! I'm going to sit up after the show and watch returns with a bowl of popcorn. Low-fat, of course.

"Dogfight" be at the Arcola from now until Saturday. It starts at 8:15--it's pay what you can tomorrow, then £12/£8, but if you want to get a deal, then tell the box office staff "Bite me!" for £6. Please come if you can, it's a really great show. It's only about an hour long, so there's plenty of time to go out afterward.

He's a very nice prince

I'm taking next week off to help out with a friend's show. Yay! today was the load in. It was so nice to be in a freezing, dry, dusty, cramped theatre again. Ah. "Dogfight" runs from Monday until Saturday, if anyone in London wants to see it, it's at the Arcola. I'm just running the sound, but I'd rather be doing that than sitting in an office. blah.

Yesterday, I went down to Borough Market because my roommate told me they had brats. It's as good a reason as any to go to Borough Market, which is a trendy, crowded little market tucked under the arches at London Bridge. I didn't expect it to be so full, and at first I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find the brats, but then--all of a sudden--there they were. Two and a half pounds for pure, unadalterated bliss on a bun with mustard and sauerkraut. Totally worth the walk. I would have written an ode to it in my journal, only I forgot a pen. So I read instead--a new book which I highly recommend called Ark Baby, about Darwinism. I should have gotten another brat, but it was very crowded after all. Now I've got something to look forward to next week.

He's a very nice prince

I'm taking next week off to help out with a friend's show. Yay! today was the load in. It was so nice to be in a freezing, dry, dusty, cramped theatre again. Ah. "Dogfight" runs from Monday until Saturday, if anyone in London wants to see it, it's at the Arcola. I'm just running the sound, but I'd rather be doing that than sitting in an office. blah.

Yesterday, I went down to Borough Market because my roommate told me they had brats. It's as good a reason as any to go to Borough Market, which is a trendy, crowded little market tucked under the arches at London Bridge. I didn't expect it to be so full, and at first I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find the brats, but then--all of a sudden--there they were. Two and a half pounds for pure, unadalterated bliss on a bun with mustard and sauerkraut. Totally worth the walk. I would have written an ode to it in my journal, only I forgot a pen. So I read instead--a new book which I highly recommend called Ark Baby, about Darwinism. I should have gotten another brat, but it was very crowded after all. Now I've got something to look forward to next week.

fangirl alert!!!!

OMG, I read today in the Metro, morning standard of journalistic integrity, that CILLIAN MURPHY is going to be in the West End in a new play. AAAAAAAAAHHHH! In London! He's here rehearsing right now! We might be breathing the same Tube-soaked air!!! Murphy, who is best known for being the guy who is going to be playing Nelson in my movie as soon as I write it, is currently reigning as my favourite actor. I don't even know what the play is about. I don't care. All I care about is it's going to be in a theatre with a stage door where one might potentially stand in painful excitement and embarass oneself so thouroughly that the only option remaining is to move to Antartica and never answer the door again. Ever.

Meanwhile, I hear that John Kerry is botching jokes in America. Apparently he was addressing a group of students and he said, "You know what happens when you don't have access to education? You end up in Iraq!" thereby implying that the soldiers serving overseas are idiots who couldn't figure out how to avoid being conscripted into the army. According to his spokesperson, what Kerry meant to say was "Do you know what happens when you don't have good education? You end up getting us stuck in a war in Iraq. Just ask President Bush!" thereby implying that Bush is the idiot. Which is true. But now I'm mad at Kerry because a) he sounds like a jerk, and b) he can't crack a joke properly. And he won't apologise for it either. I've been watching the news about the mid-term elections like it's the World Cup. I can't wait to see who wins. Rah rah, go Dems go!