It's been a long week with many late nights doing homework, rehearsals, projects, and all the while suffering from an addiction to the book The Wise Man's Fear. Now it's Friday night and I'm ready to relax, sleep, and just enjoy the weekend, yet I can't help remembering how I licked someone's toe earlier this week. Yeah. That wasn't exactly something that was on my bucket list.
While playing Truth or Dare at two in the morning, and me a little tipsy by then, I was commanded to lick some poor guy's toe. The funny thing is that I wasn't too reluctant to do this. That's not to say that I enjoy licking peoples' feet (leave that to the politicians and lobbyists), but I had a drink waiting for me and I thought "Ah, hell, why not? Alcohol's a sterilizer, right?" So out comes the tongue, followed by a quick dash to the sink to spit out... whatever was in my mouth, then a good booze mouth rinse. Disgusting as that was, I've got a sneaking suspicion that I would probably do it again if I were sober, so long as I had some alcohol on hand. You would need to pay me first though.
Aside from that little incident, this week is a blur in my memory. I did write down specific moments that I thought might be entertaining, and it is only by reading about them that I can actually remember the scenes clearly. That's always been a peculiar thing about me. I cannot seem to remember my own life quite as well as I remember what I read in a novel or see in a movie. I will forget a person's name five minutes after we're introduced and not memorize it for a month, yet I can read a book and give you a list of main characters, their personality types, professions, and probably a brief family tree five months later. I can remember scenes from The Giver, which I read back in the fifth grade, and describe them to you, yet I could not tell you what my own sixteenth birthday was like and there wasn't a drop of alcohol involved that day to boot. Maybe I'm just suited for story telling. Either that or I'm an oblivious nincompoop. That's a strong possibility also.
I'm always a little bothered by how much Americans puff themselves up about our involvement in the world wars. We tend to claim that we were the biggest force in the wars and that we were also responsible for the Allies' victory. The last part is, to some extent, true, as we provided just enough support to tip the tremulous balance and help determine the victors. However, that was only after each of the major countries, both ally and otherwise, had sacrificed millions of soldiers for their cause and won great victories and suffered horrendous defeats. All the while, before we sent troops, the U.S. was making a fortune in arms manufacturing which, one could theoretically argue, is what made us into a superpower in the first place (sorry to all of you uber-patriots out there). We had this discussion about U.S. involvement in the great wars during history class at the beginning of the week while we were studying the Cold War. I think that I might have surprised my classmates with my rather non-stereotypical perspective. In jest, and in vague reference to the Game of Thrones series, I even likened us to crows, as we fed off of the death, fear, and misery of millions, yet also helped to win the day. One of the other guys in class (we'll call him Bob, as that's the most common name that I know), perhaps in a vain attempt at humor, said "Yeah. Pretty much a bunch of large, ugly, feathery lumps of greed and scavenging."
I turned to him aghast and my face showing it in every way. "Bob!" I exclaimed. "You should not speak of your family in such a way!" That got a few laughs. While I had brought his comment upon myself, it was a tad bit irritating to hear such a blatantly (and I'm not sure jokingly) slanderous statement. Besides, my stomach had just erupted in hungry growls five minutes prior and I wanted everyone to chuckle at someone else for a while.
On the subject of school, while the U.S. school system is flawed and hurting in a rather bad way, I'm glad that I was educated in it. In the U.S., almost every school (if not every school) requires its students to take courses in every discipline until the year that they graduate and head to university. This gives us a lot of freedom to explore and feel our way through what we are good at, discover where our flaws lay, and experiment with what we might enjoy and most U.S. universities also require this sort of general education. While this turns pupils into well-rounded scholars, it also anticipates a very important matter: Almost nobody knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives when they're twenty, no less sixteen. While I now say that I want to be a novelist for the rest of my time, for all I know I could very well experience a strange hormonal and intellectual change during university and realize that particle physics is my true calling. I have had little experience with physics, but I have been versed in the scientific process through courses in biology and chemistry and anatomy and physiology and am familiar with everything up to rudimentary calculus, which would give me at least a small foundation to build upon while I learn introductory physics. England has no such flexibility. It seems that they begin a student's
early academic career with general courses, observe where they excel, and then
start to remove the other courses around year eleven, funneling the student into a certain career
path that they are almost obligated to follow if they attend a European university. I understand the desire to crank out very specialized students who can excel in their field, as they have not "wasted" their time with unrelated courses, but the notion of funneling students into a certain career path from age twelve seems narrow minded to me. All around me I see students who are set on one track or another and yet haven't the faintest clue as to what they really want to do in life. What if a would-be medical student had been encouraged to take an unfamiliar class like music theory and discovered that they actually wanted to be a music teacher? The option just does not appear to exist unless they decide to work extra hard in the International Baccalaureate program which I feel might be suicide for some. I would not be surprised if a lot of people here go through university and their careers with no passion for anything, never discovering a true vocation. While that still happens in the U.S. frequently enough, the system at least cultivates an expanding, inquisitive, restless mind. As I implied, I might not be getting the full picture here, as I am a foreigner after all, so if I'm getting any of this wrong, please tell me and I'll amend this little rant.
Which reminds me that I downloaded Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs the other night. For those of you who don't know, the first Amnesia game was quite possibly the scariest thing that I have ever seen in my life, topping even high places and a certain test (those from Bridgewater will know what I mean). My neighbor and friend came in when I had finished the download and, without any prompting, we both started yelling. We yelled at the top of our lungs and I projected my voice as if I were on stage at the Houston Grand Opera. We gave each other high fives and reveled in how terrified we would soon become! Strange isn't it, how enthusiastic we can be to terrify ourselves? All other creatures would avoid fear like the plague, yet people flock to the latest horror flick like sheep. Is it that we have become so detached from our natural state of insecurity in the wild that we have come to crave fear because our brains are hardwired to be wary and afraid? Perhaps we crave fear almost as much as we desire symmetry and orderly habits. Almost everyone has a routine that they are irked to break.
Fun exercise: Go into a classroom early, where everyone has picked for themselves a usual spot, and then sit right in the middle, forcing the others to find different seats as they come. I'll bet you almost anything that at least one person will get up in arms about you screwing with the natural order of things. I know that my history teacher did when I moved just so and squirreled things. The other students took it in fair stride (props to them), but the good man himself looked like a deer in the headlights as he registered the change. Come to think of it, that might actually be a fun exercise for my sociology class... Heh heh. Evil thoughts.
By the way: My fellow dorm rats have taken to requesting that I rap for them in the common room at nights and, since I am a closet attention hog, I oblige them. Thus, if any videos of me appear on Facebook or YouTube, please keep in mind that what I'm rapping is (more often than not) meant to be satire, I am not a violent alcoholic womanizer (though the last part might be fun), and feel free to like the posts if they appear, which I hope that they don't.
I think that's enough yammering for one night. Tune in next week for another installment of "It Isn't Raining THAT Much," brought to you by yours truly! This production is due, in part, to your feedback! If you have any questions, suggestions, or concerns that might improve the program, please leave a comment or call this toll free number (which doesn't actually exist). Okay, yeah, I think that I'm running this '70s TV broadcast joke into the dirt now, but you get the idea. Good night to all and to all a good night!
Friday, September 27, 2013
Monday, September 23, 2013
Here We Go Again
My apologies for not posting on Friday as I had promised! I was staying at a youth hostel all weekend which had advertised internet access, but failed to mention that it came with a price and I am a complete miser with the exception of spending on my friends occasionally. Anyhow, on to the week!
I gave birth this week. Your first thought might be "Why on earth would you post something like that on the internet, especially since you're eighteen!?" and I would understand that. However, your second thought, or your first if you're quick, might be "Wait, you're a guy." I just wanted to catch your attention really. Anyhow, in sociology class on Monday, we were discussing all manner of achieving goals, from conforming (working hard) to innovating (crime and cheating) to rebelling (scorning a goal publicly and rejecting it). My teacher apparently wanted to epitomize this by having someone pretend to birth a baby. However, he did not tell anyone what his plan was when he asked for a good actor to volunteer. I wasn't even paying attention at the time when a girl volunteered me. Before I knew it, I was dragged into the hall and told to stuff a sweatshirt under my shirt and, before the whole class while still in my suit and tie, go into labor. In short, I disconnected my mind from my body, huffed and puffed, knocked over a few things, quoted a few lines from the movie "Juno" (I think you know which ones if you've seen it), screamed, yelled, and swore at the top of my lungs. I don't think that I have ever said "fuck" in front of a teacher before, no less fifteen times in five minutes. As if the class had not had enough profanity and wackiness from me, they asked me to rap the next day. That one I turned down, considering that the only rap that I really know is by the Hollywood Undead and I doubt that a poor British sociology teacher would get the rather *ahem* vivid satire. Needless to say, the birthing scene spread about the school like wildfire and I was hearing about it from guys across campus a mere hour later at lunch. It was actually kind of fun!
Oh yeah! I've also managed to get myself enmeshed in three plays here. Don't worry too much, as they are short, but it's a little confusing getting the scheduling straight along with everything else. However, the absolute absurdity of two of the plays makes up for it. For example, in the Arts Awards pantomime of Snow White et al, I have been cast as "The Dame" who is supposed to be even more comic relief on top of what we already have. I must, for one, find a guy in the audience to embarrass by calling him my one true love, bringing him onto the stage, and then singing for him. Now here's the problem: We haven't decided upon a song yet. So far, it's between Single Ladies (Beyonce), Drop It Like It's Hard, and Don't You Want Me Baby?. Yeah. This is gonna be interesting. Ah, hell! If I can give birth in sociology, then I can shake my booty on stage! I had to miss the meeting regarding my costume this week, but people keep on telling my that the dress is "interesting." As if saying "the dress you have to wear" isn't bad enough, they have to put that certain inflection into "interesting" to give me a brief chill. I'm going to have fun with this either way, but if they make me put on something too absurd, there's going to be blood.
I made a mistake in scheduling as well. I was invited to someone's eighteenth birthday party for the weekend, but didn't make the connection and signed up for a trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon for a weekend immersed in Shakespeare and theater and very boring tours that I would have rather spent in a pub. If I hadn't already paid the money for the trip, I might have gone to the party, but I do enjoy history and sight-seeing and drama, so I went. Apparently the party was an absolutely amazing madhouse with no injuries by the end except for headaches and one guy's hand from punching a wall. Someone please remind me, if it ever comes between a school trip with some friends or a party with friends and lots of girls and drink, to choose the fucking party! On the bright side, I was introduced to Jager Bombs which are actually pretty delicious. Just to those colleges and universities that might be stalking me while I'm applying to school or for any wayward teacher, I will remind you that I am eighteen years old in England. This is all perfectly legal and no laws were broken, no one was hurt, and I woke without a headache or any problems except for a numb patch on my lip that still hasn't quite faded. Is that a coincidence? It feels like I've had a little Novocain injected into that one spot. Eh, I'll give it a couple more days.
I also experienced what amounted to a British four year-old's birthday party this weekend for another guys eighteenth birthday and was introduced to such mysteries as "Pass the Parcel." We were allowed a bit of drink by the teachers for the occasion. My inhibitions have fallen slightly, so it only took one hard cider to prompt me into dancing with a bunch of old people to old Rock 'n' Roll and waving to the people recording me. I think that I picked up the twist pretty quickly, but fun as it was, I was otherwise just flailing.
After that we wandered the town on, as I said, several dull tours, one of which was excruciatingly boring for most of us and pretty lifeless for me, watched the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Hamlet, which was one of the best productions of it I have seen, albeit not quite the best nor my favorite, and interviewed two people in the theater business, both of whom were old friends of our drama teacher. None of that was in chronological order, but you understand. In short, one interviewee was Pippa Nixon who played Ophelia that night, a very amiable and verbose woman (look up the word and you'll understand exactly what I mean), and Judy Methuen who was, in my opinion, far more interesting if anything by virtue of the conversation setting, rather than strict Q and A. Mrs. Methuen spent most of her life making props and sets for theater and some films and had some stories to tell and wisdom to impart, such as the paramount importance of being seen and visually recognized by important people to advance one's career, which I had already suspected was true. Oh, and we aptly embarrassed the birthday boy by coercing him into acting with some street performers and having the entire gathered audience sing a "Shakespearean Happy Birthday" song to him. I'm going to let you're imaginations toy with that one.
If I wasn't applying to university right now, again due to a technicality rather than lack of ability (God this is painful!), I would relate more... interesting stories from the weekend, but, considering the stories I have heard of the persistence and the invasive natures of universities, I shall refrain, even though I did not, strictly speaking, break any laws. However, once I have sent my applications and hear back from most of them in December, I might be a little more free with my speech.
Again, please send me ANY comments or criticisms via the blog or, if you actually know me, Facebook. They would really help to improve the blog and me as a writer. I'm going to start jotting down funny happenings throughout the week as I go now, so I might better entertain you. Until then, good night and adieu (or should I say "cheerio?")!
I gave birth this week. Your first thought might be "Why on earth would you post something like that on the internet, especially since you're eighteen!?" and I would understand that. However, your second thought, or your first if you're quick, might be "Wait, you're a guy." I just wanted to catch your attention really. Anyhow, in sociology class on Monday, we were discussing all manner of achieving goals, from conforming (working hard) to innovating (crime and cheating) to rebelling (scorning a goal publicly and rejecting it). My teacher apparently wanted to epitomize this by having someone pretend to birth a baby. However, he did not tell anyone what his plan was when he asked for a good actor to volunteer. I wasn't even paying attention at the time when a girl volunteered me. Before I knew it, I was dragged into the hall and told to stuff a sweatshirt under my shirt and, before the whole class while still in my suit and tie, go into labor. In short, I disconnected my mind from my body, huffed and puffed, knocked over a few things, quoted a few lines from the movie "Juno" (I think you know which ones if you've seen it), screamed, yelled, and swore at the top of my lungs. I don't think that I have ever said "fuck" in front of a teacher before, no less fifteen times in five minutes. As if the class had not had enough profanity and wackiness from me, they asked me to rap the next day. That one I turned down, considering that the only rap that I really know is by the Hollywood Undead and I doubt that a poor British sociology teacher would get the rather *ahem* vivid satire. Needless to say, the birthing scene spread about the school like wildfire and I was hearing about it from guys across campus a mere hour later at lunch. It was actually kind of fun!
Oh yeah! I've also managed to get myself enmeshed in three plays here. Don't worry too much, as they are short, but it's a little confusing getting the scheduling straight along with everything else. However, the absolute absurdity of two of the plays makes up for it. For example, in the Arts Awards pantomime of Snow White et al, I have been cast as "The Dame" who is supposed to be even more comic relief on top of what we already have. I must, for one, find a guy in the audience to embarrass by calling him my one true love, bringing him onto the stage, and then singing for him. Now here's the problem: We haven't decided upon a song yet. So far, it's between Single Ladies (Beyonce), Drop It Like It's Hard, and Don't You Want Me Baby?. Yeah. This is gonna be interesting. Ah, hell! If I can give birth in sociology, then I can shake my booty on stage! I had to miss the meeting regarding my costume this week, but people keep on telling my that the dress is "interesting." As if saying "the dress you have to wear" isn't bad enough, they have to put that certain inflection into "interesting" to give me a brief chill. I'm going to have fun with this either way, but if they make me put on something too absurd, there's going to be blood.
I made a mistake in scheduling as well. I was invited to someone's eighteenth birthday party for the weekend, but didn't make the connection and signed up for a trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon for a weekend immersed in Shakespeare and theater and very boring tours that I would have rather spent in a pub. If I hadn't already paid the money for the trip, I might have gone to the party, but I do enjoy history and sight-seeing and drama, so I went. Apparently the party was an absolutely amazing madhouse with no injuries by the end except for headaches and one guy's hand from punching a wall. Someone please remind me, if it ever comes between a school trip with some friends or a party with friends and lots of girls and drink, to choose the fucking party! On the bright side, I was introduced to Jager Bombs which are actually pretty delicious. Just to those colleges and universities that might be stalking me while I'm applying to school or for any wayward teacher, I will remind you that I am eighteen years old in England. This is all perfectly legal and no laws were broken, no one was hurt, and I woke without a headache or any problems except for a numb patch on my lip that still hasn't quite faded. Is that a coincidence? It feels like I've had a little Novocain injected into that one spot. Eh, I'll give it a couple more days.
I also experienced what amounted to a British four year-old's birthday party this weekend for another guys eighteenth birthday and was introduced to such mysteries as "Pass the Parcel." We were allowed a bit of drink by the teachers for the occasion. My inhibitions have fallen slightly, so it only took one hard cider to prompt me into dancing with a bunch of old people to old Rock 'n' Roll and waving to the people recording me. I think that I picked up the twist pretty quickly, but fun as it was, I was otherwise just flailing.
After that we wandered the town on, as I said, several dull tours, one of which was excruciatingly boring for most of us and pretty lifeless for me, watched the Royal Shakespeare Company perform Hamlet, which was one of the best productions of it I have seen, albeit not quite the best nor my favorite, and interviewed two people in the theater business, both of whom were old friends of our drama teacher. None of that was in chronological order, but you understand. In short, one interviewee was Pippa Nixon who played Ophelia that night, a very amiable and verbose woman (look up the word and you'll understand exactly what I mean), and Judy Methuen who was, in my opinion, far more interesting if anything by virtue of the conversation setting, rather than strict Q and A. Mrs. Methuen spent most of her life making props and sets for theater and some films and had some stories to tell and wisdom to impart, such as the paramount importance of being seen and visually recognized by important people to advance one's career, which I had already suspected was true. Oh, and we aptly embarrassed the birthday boy by coercing him into acting with some street performers and having the entire gathered audience sing a "Shakespearean Happy Birthday" song to him. I'm going to let you're imaginations toy with that one.
If I wasn't applying to university right now, again due to a technicality rather than lack of ability (God this is painful!), I would relate more... interesting stories from the weekend, but, considering the stories I have heard of the persistence and the invasive natures of universities, I shall refrain, even though I did not, strictly speaking, break any laws. However, once I have sent my applications and hear back from most of them in December, I might be a little more free with my speech.
Again, please send me ANY comments or criticisms via the blog or, if you actually know me, Facebook. They would really help to improve the blog and me as a writer. I'm going to start jotting down funny happenings throughout the week as I go now, so I might better entertain you. Until then, good night and adieu (or should I say "cheerio?")!
Friday, September 13, 2013
Aha! Internet! The world is mine!
Alright! Hello to everyone out there who, at the moment that I am writing this, amounts to just me! It took about twelve hours of traveling, much napping in the car, and a couple of days to figure out this blasted WiFi system, but I now have internet capabilities! Ha ha!
Before I left Massachusetts earlier this week (oh, wow, that was still just this week?), a neighbor of mine met me and suggested that I start this blog. If anything it's a good bit of practice writing a journal and keeping track of events, but hopefully someone will get a little kick out of it!
Anyhow, my name is Matthew, a graduate of Tabor Academy, and I am currently taking a gap year at what amounts to an English high school known as Ellesmere College. So, in essence, I'm pumped to be here! I have had little experience in Europe and this scholarship that I got just seemed like the perfect opportunity to travel, meet new people, take a year to refine my writing, and sort out what I desire from my life. I am planning on heading to Chapman University for film direction and editing once this year ends, however I am also applying to new schools that I had not considered, such as NYU. While I may be on track to enter the film industry, my ultimate goal in life is to become a prolific and critically acclaimed writer. While those two things might sound mutually exclusive, I have hope that it is possible. Tolkien managed it, albeit not quite in his lifetime. Hopefully I'll be able to observe the results of my work before the end though.
Wow that got dreary. That's enough about my background if it's going to continue on so dismally. On to my shenanigans! So far, I have been in England for a week and a day, one of which was spent traveling, as I mentioned. During that time I have visited four pubs, become somewhat of a social hit at school, been invited to several parties, thrown myself into classes that are half-way through their subjects, and experienced a twenty-three year old teacher dressed as a pirate trying to pick me up at a bar before she discovered that I was eighteen. I kid you not. I don't think that I could make that last bit up even if I tried.
There are certain benefits to being "The American" in an English school. For one, I get to play the part of the bubbly, excitable, genial guy which I could not easily do in America (too many others doing the same) which in turn has already garnered for me several friendships and dozens of acquaintances. I have never been this popular in my whole life. I was mostly the quiet, reserved guy except for with my friends before this. Now I can understand why the popular guys in America were so willing to embarrass themselves in public. Aside from grabbing everyone's attention, it endeared them to others just because they lacked inhibition. They were, in short, fun! How I missed this before, I do not know.
Aside from mostly being taken the girls here are quite lovely! I feel like Tantilus, who could see the food and water all around him, but never slake his thirst or sate his appetite. I've made a point of talking to most of them, but, as ever, I have been too terrified to actually, heavens forfend, ask for a phone number. That much about me hasn't changed a bit. I'm still hopeless with women. I can chat them up fine, but actually asking them out is a real stretch. Give me a week and a couple of beers to change that!
One disadvantage to being "The American:" My phone does not quite work over here. It's fifty cents to send a text, five to receive one, and almost a dollar thirty per minute to talk on the phone! So even if I were to get a girl's number, I could not use it for fear of my bill. That's what Facebook is for, though, right?
There is actually one other American here who is, I think, two years my junior and far more reserved than I am making myself out to be. He's a great guy though and, strangely enough, he lives in Massachusetts too! Who would've thought?
There is one thing that I already love, and I mean absolutely adore, about the English school life. They do not have cliques. Yes, people tend to filter into groups of friends and talk to each other, but everyone talks to everyone else! People mingle and no one bats an eye about a Brit going to sit with a table of Lithuanians! This sort of social mobility has opened so many avenues to me! I have learned some small bits of Lithuanian, German, and Russian culture and, better still, befriended someone from just about every national group. It's gratifying to not worry about that social stigma of consorting with "other" people.
Speaking of Russians, one random thing: I've presented myself as a big drama fan and student thus, when several students could not attend a trip to the theater for a class this week, I was invited along. I was told that the title of the production was "Lenin" and I thought "This is great! I love history and I don't really know much about Vladamir Lenin as a person. How are these English people going to portray a communist anyhow? I hope they don't vilify him." It took until the next day, when the bus pulled up to the theater in Liverpool, and me seeing the playbill to finally register that the play was about John Lennon. Yeah. I gave myself a good face palming on the sidewalk right there. Now, I'm not much of a Beatles fan, but the play was rather well done in both production and acting while the energy of the performances rekindled my interest in their music. "I Am The Walrus" continues to be one of the trippyest songs I've ever heard though.
I just noticed that this is already over one-thousand words long, so I'll cut it short here. I will try to post every Friday if I can manage it and, if I become so inspired, I will add something during the week as well! I hope that you enjoy this blog and, more than anything else, if you have ANY constructive criticism or any suggestions, please leave a comment! Criticism and revision are what make a writer!
Before I left Massachusetts earlier this week (oh, wow, that was still just this week?), a neighbor of mine met me and suggested that I start this blog. If anything it's a good bit of practice writing a journal and keeping track of events, but hopefully someone will get a little kick out of it!
Anyhow, my name is Matthew, a graduate of Tabor Academy, and I am currently taking a gap year at what amounts to an English high school known as Ellesmere College. So, in essence, I'm pumped to be here! I have had little experience in Europe and this scholarship that I got just seemed like the perfect opportunity to travel, meet new people, take a year to refine my writing, and sort out what I desire from my life. I am planning on heading to Chapman University for film direction and editing once this year ends, however I am also applying to new schools that I had not considered, such as NYU. While I may be on track to enter the film industry, my ultimate goal in life is to become a prolific and critically acclaimed writer. While those two things might sound mutually exclusive, I have hope that it is possible. Tolkien managed it, albeit not quite in his lifetime. Hopefully I'll be able to observe the results of my work before the end though.
Wow that got dreary. That's enough about my background if it's going to continue on so dismally. On to my shenanigans! So far, I have been in England for a week and a day, one of which was spent traveling, as I mentioned. During that time I have visited four pubs, become somewhat of a social hit at school, been invited to several parties, thrown myself into classes that are half-way through their subjects, and experienced a twenty-three year old teacher dressed as a pirate trying to pick me up at a bar before she discovered that I was eighteen. I kid you not. I don't think that I could make that last bit up even if I tried.
There are certain benefits to being "The American" in an English school. For one, I get to play the part of the bubbly, excitable, genial guy which I could not easily do in America (too many others doing the same) which in turn has already garnered for me several friendships and dozens of acquaintances. I have never been this popular in my whole life. I was mostly the quiet, reserved guy except for with my friends before this. Now I can understand why the popular guys in America were so willing to embarrass themselves in public. Aside from grabbing everyone's attention, it endeared them to others just because they lacked inhibition. They were, in short, fun! How I missed this before, I do not know.
Aside from mostly being taken the girls here are quite lovely! I feel like Tantilus, who could see the food and water all around him, but never slake his thirst or sate his appetite. I've made a point of talking to most of them, but, as ever, I have been too terrified to actually, heavens forfend, ask for a phone number. That much about me hasn't changed a bit. I'm still hopeless with women. I can chat them up fine, but actually asking them out is a real stretch. Give me a week and a couple of beers to change that!
One disadvantage to being "The American:" My phone does not quite work over here. It's fifty cents to send a text, five to receive one, and almost a dollar thirty per minute to talk on the phone! So even if I were to get a girl's number, I could not use it for fear of my bill. That's what Facebook is for, though, right?
There is actually one other American here who is, I think, two years my junior and far more reserved than I am making myself out to be. He's a great guy though and, strangely enough, he lives in Massachusetts too! Who would've thought?
There is one thing that I already love, and I mean absolutely adore, about the English school life. They do not have cliques. Yes, people tend to filter into groups of friends and talk to each other, but everyone talks to everyone else! People mingle and no one bats an eye about a Brit going to sit with a table of Lithuanians! This sort of social mobility has opened so many avenues to me! I have learned some small bits of Lithuanian, German, and Russian culture and, better still, befriended someone from just about every national group. It's gratifying to not worry about that social stigma of consorting with "other" people.
Speaking of Russians, one random thing: I've presented myself as a big drama fan and student thus, when several students could not attend a trip to the theater for a class this week, I was invited along. I was told that the title of the production was "Lenin" and I thought "This is great! I love history and I don't really know much about Vladamir Lenin as a person. How are these English people going to portray a communist anyhow? I hope they don't vilify him." It took until the next day, when the bus pulled up to the theater in Liverpool, and me seeing the playbill to finally register that the play was about John Lennon. Yeah. I gave myself a good face palming on the sidewalk right there. Now, I'm not much of a Beatles fan, but the play was rather well done in both production and acting while the energy of the performances rekindled my interest in their music. "I Am The Walrus" continues to be one of the trippyest songs I've ever heard though.
I just noticed that this is already over one-thousand words long, so I'll cut it short here. I will try to post every Friday if I can manage it and, if I become so inspired, I will add something during the week as well! I hope that you enjoy this blog and, more than anything else, if you have ANY constructive criticism or any suggestions, please leave a comment! Criticism and revision are what make a writer!
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