A long week of skipping class and getting stuff done, and Northumberland — Weekend to Friday 18 November

First off, I would like to apologise for the parenthetical abuses on Thursday. I'd also like to apologise for the soul-killing that happened Thursday. I just kind of need to get this off my chest, because I'm terrible at telling stories out loud and I don't want to foist this on my flatmates. There are pictures of Northumberland at the end! Hang on until Friday!

This weekend all I did was sleep. I did take a walk in the fog, but that was fairly uneventful except for the part where I didn’t know where I was. Not to worry, I figured out where I was and only ambled down one dead end before I finally got back to the road with the cemetery. 

Anyway. Monday, I skipped english literature in favour of writing my assignment, and I got to 1200 words that night because of it. Apparently nothing happened at all in lecture, so all I regret is the possibility that my prof might ask why I skipped. Not because I feel guilty about skipping, but because she'll try to make me feel guilty about not having started my paper until approximately three days before it was due. She is of the opinion that she gives us a lot of useful information in an awesome way that we can really use on our assignments (not that useful, not that awesome, and there was nothing AT ALL on the topic that I picked), and she would sound so offended if she thought that I thought that the two months she gave us wasn't enough time. Okay, we read for my topic about two weeks before it was due, but okay, sure. That was more than enough time. And I would end up agreeing that her module is, like, the best thing ever when in fact it's the most horribly structured literature class I've ever taken. I feel like there were better authors during the seventeen hundreds. I'm sure of it. There had to have been. 

Tuesday I skipped history to work on the lit assignment. I got a late start because I stayed up late the night before trying to write, but I had a hard time getting many more words in, anyway. I was also on an apple cider craving, and I haven’t really seen it here. I need to check again, but I think I’m down to my last few packets, and I’m saving them for the next assignment and my history assignment. 

Wednesday, I agreed to meet Freya, the girl with whom I did extensive work on our last lab report. Before that, I read for my history seminar, went to my history seminar, and finished my essay. Win! I think the main problem was that there simply wasn’t enough to say about the criminals portrayed in the play that was related to a thesis that I could write down. When we finally started working on the lab report, it went slow. Neither of us really cares that much about electrophoresis (I usually like it, but nothing much is interesting in this class), and the results were bad, and I, at least, didn’t actually attend the lecture in which we may have learned how to interpret them. I'm not sure if that lecture even existed; the only slides up on Sunspace were ones from the seminar part. Again, there wasn't that much to say.

Quickly, before I get into Thursday, I need to draw attention to the fact that I really, really do like biochemistry. It freaks me out sometimes, like when I get oddly claustrophobic thinking about how tiny biological molecules are, and the fact that they are in an aqueous environment, so how small are water molecules, which have air dissolved amongst them... How big are the spaces between molecules, and what is in that space? How many tiny voids are in a glass of water... Are in me?

At that point, I usually have to take a massive deep breath because I realise I haven't been breathing. 

An xkcd comic that just came out really sums me up. I'm just posting the part relevant to me, but you can click the link at the beginning of the sentence to see the whole thing. It's about the type of map that people like based on what they're like, and the Peirce Quincuncial is really my thing.

No, seriously, I really love looking at hands. They are incredibly cool. To wrap this up, I really do love biochemistry. Please, please, do not take Thursday as me hating biochemistry. And there are pictures after, I promise. You can even skip Thursday, as I wish I had been able to do, and I won't care.

Thursday I finished up the lab report in the nick of time after skipping both lecture and seminar. Again. I'm really, really going to go to both next week. Really. At least this week, there was a greater purpose than sleeping in... After finishing, I went to lab, which was billed as a revision session (revision equals studying and/or reviewing here, something that I just got recently). I had high hopes of being able to leave early after being left pretty much to my own devices for a while and showing that I knew what I was doing, as happened last time we had a workshop instead of lab. Distressingly, this was not the case. Instead of Monica, the condescending lecturer who says "lineweaver" as if there's an extra R (linearweaver), we had the impossible little frenchman. I almost hope he reads this, because I think it would really clear the air between us. Unfortunately, he still has to grade two more lab reports and my final, so hopefully he never sees this. To put this in a small amount of perspective, I'm writing this after having an awesome day Friday. The post gets better, and I'm not really bitter and hateful.

Fact: I was never awfully fond of him. Initially, his inability to really express himself in english put a damper on the possibility of me liking him as a lecturer, and his subsequent displays of incompetence in understanding what anyone else is saying clinched a vague sense of dislike towards him. Normally, I can overlook this and we got along pretty well. My lack of experience with this university's procedures and previous classes seemed to put him off a little, but he was generally reasonable. Today, though, he was in a rotten mood. He snapped at everyone who came in late, which he doesn't do when it's a proper lab and time actually matters, and was generally irate and condescending. When he collected our lab reports, he grumbled over my lack of staple. A whole one lab report of mine has been stapled, and that was done by the library staff when we did that weird remote turn-in thing. I put my name on every page, and it's never been a problem before. I'm also kind of trying this thing where I don't spend money, so I haven't bought a stapler that I will just have to leave here because I already have one in my desk in Pasco. I was in a pretty good mood, and commented that I didn't have a stapler. 

"Buy one." Instantly, I was on the offensive. I went from a little nervous about how short my report was to stiff and speechless with rage in about a heartbeat. It was like that time in high school when I was literally shaking with fury when some smug little middle schooler punk insulted a friend who was doing something right. I don't usually get the urge to "slap that smug little look off your (demi-or-straight up-swearword) face". In fact, I think this has happened about twice in my whole life now (in real life; that scene in King Arthur where the bishop tells Arthur to bring his men home if he wants them to get their freedom doesn't really count because it was designed to do that to people; I looked for a video clip on youtube but couldn't find it). Twenty one years is kind of a long period of time to have something happen only twice. I don't really know why the impossible little frenchman brought this out in me today over something as stupid as a stapler. I know I respond poorly to insult and the "wrong" tone of voice, and, on occasion, an irate eyebrow twitch in my direction, but I can't help myself when it sneaks up on me. I'm not proud.

I quickly determined that I was unlikely to get out early because the impossible frenchman explains in great detail every single aspect of some questions (he actually went into the properties of light when explaining spectroscopy, using terrible metaphors and analogies. It was worse than Dr. Gårdestig the swedish physics professor; he started off with a random green beach to talk about waves. I still don't know where the beach came into it. His accent made it slightly hilarious (because the long e sound gets kind of turned into a short i sound, haha, he said a dirty word), but not funny enough to excuse the fact that this isn't helping anyone.) while skipping over others completely. One of the questions involved an equation that we'd never seen before, which was... messed up. Unless they're handing out an equations sheet, I don't want to see this nonsense on an exam. We haven't used this ever before, so don't put it on the exam. kthnxbai. 

He'd been slipping in composure throughout the slightly too long time that we were given to work on select questions, but he lost it about two questions in. Two guys didn't seem to be paying attention (was anyone?) to his oddly detailed and unhelpful explanation, so he "asked" if they wanted to leave. Of course they wanted to leave. Everyone did. We'd all been plotting it every time he walked out of the room, which he did quite a lot. In any case, the atmosphere in the room was awkward and chilly as Adam (not from my flat) and Jedward walked out rather triumphantly (although they still looked a little embarrassed; getting kicked out of class gets kind of old after grade school). This didn't stop Freya, who was giving me a ride home, from trying to talk to the girls at the end of the bench. Things got more and more awkward as the class dragged on. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. War was being declared on the impossible frenchman, who should have followed his country's historical precedent and surrendered. I did get a hint on how enzymes work, although I need to look that up sometime, but that was all that I gained from the class. That, and a growing sense of a firm dislike for the impossible frenchman, since the incredible rage and desire to actually inflict harm on someone else subsided pretty quickly. No more vague irritation (he really is the worst at explaining anything at all, and never seems to get when someone has decided that the topic would be best pursued with someone —anyone— else. All he does then is ask repeatedly "Do you understand" (left the question mark off on purpose; he doesn't really use it) until you give up on noncommittal grunting because you hate to lie and finally say "YES! I understand, and I really have to go now, I'm late for something, anything, please let me leave now." Sorry about the long parenthetical; I'll just end the "No more vague irritation" sentence now.). 

Another thing. Freya is the type of person who will interrupt boldly as a self-preservation and diversionary tactic. If she's bored, she just starts talking, whether over the person who's talking to her or to a person who's talking to someone else. She tried to save me from the frenchman last week when I was trying to figure out why I couldn't take an exam early, but nothing stops him when he's on a roll. In light of this, it's not surprising that she gave up listening to the frenchman in favour of talking to the girls at the end of the bench, although I was, at the time, a little surprised because the frenchman had just cracked down on Adam and Jedward talking. This is when I really started avoiding eye contact with everyone. I'm pretty passive aggressive; I'd have stayed to the end of the class no matter how irritating his voice was. Besides, he had already been short with me regarding the staples (and it still makes me angry a day later, wow), and I didn't want to make things worse, especially after I had almost inadvertently insulted his teaching style in a lab report and gotten a 0 on that particular section. It wasn't that bad, and the instructions really were scattered. How else was I supposed to explain the fact that our enzyme was probably cold because he just explained here and there that you were supposed to warm it up for a bit, and my lab partner for the day didn't hear it because she was already at the front getting the enzyme off the ice? It's not my fault that he's the worst at explaining. However, I was beginning to think that the animosity was not one sided, and that, like my former podmate hating me over the hair in the shower, he hated me for the lack of staples. I didn't want to make things worse, but it might have been too late. Frankly, I get the sneaky suspicion that he doesn't like any of us. Fact: no one in the class likes him, so it's unsurprising that he'd pick up on the low-level animosity at some point. We've tested this in karate, and multiple people directing emotion at someone does tend to affect the target. I was, in any case, on damage control, trying to make as few enemies as possible.

Freya, however, was going nuts. She hadn't eaten much all day, preferring to sleep over eating breakfast, and, as mood and gastrointestinal happiness levels are related, she was in a pretty foul mood. When the frenchman insisted on a break over the class's protestations that we'd rather power through the very last question and then be done, we made an attempt to sneak out. I do say we, because I wanted my ride and I'd already put my bag with my computer in her car. Impossible frenchman kept coming back into the room, though, and he asked Freya if she was going somewhere. 

I sensed danger, and kept my head down. Freya was all the way gone, though. She was hungry, she was cranky, she was tired, and she was leaving. And my bag was in her car, so I was leaving when she left. 

She replied that she was leaving, yes. She said something about her head and started around the frenchman, who had accosted her on his way in and her way out. I didn't see what he did, but I hope he didn't turn around when I hurried out the door behind Freya. I'm still a little nervous about how this will affect my grades. We signed the register, though, and he marked us down on some sort of personal register, so I don't think I can be counted as absent from lab. I'll be needing to keep my head down, though. No more skipping lectures, and I really need to study up on biochemistry stuff that will be on the exam in spite of never being in a lecture. Yes, I'm bitter about that. I'm trying not to be bitter at people, because I know myself, but I can be bitter about poorly constructed exams.

Friday! Friday! No more Thursday! If you skipped Thursday (and especially if you didn't), PICTURES!

Adam (from my flat, not the one who got kicked out of lab) had promised a week ago to take a few of us (limited by car space) to Northumberland. In the end, it was just Jessi, Felicity (whitworth senior art major from Clarkston, WA who lives next door who I had never even seen before coming to Sunderland), and me. 

We went through a tunnel under a river. Jessi saw a van coming straight at us on a skinny road and reacted by yelling "CAR! big!" This became something of a meme for us; why did she try to describe it? "Car! Big! Green!" "Car! Big! ...Uh, it has a white top!" (this was followed by "I was panicking even more because I couldn't tell if it was blue or white!"). Jessi was a pretty good sport about it. 

We picked up Adam's dog Lilligan (it always sounds like he's saying "Lillian") on the way to a castle with a beach. She's a jack russell terrier, which Adam had mentioned in his attempts to describe how hyper she gets, but she's also long-haired, which Adam didn't mention. I was expecting a dog that looked like wishbone, but she looks nothing like that unless she's wet. 

She does get very hyper. Adam's descriptions were a little bit over-the-top, but I think that he's trying to get himself out of the centre of discussion. Two of our favourite topics as a flat are Adam's dog and Adam's mum, one of whom he is very fond and one of whom he is rather embarrassed. I think he's out of danger from demands that we meet his mum thanks to introducing us to his dog. I think that it's because he's the only one of us whose dog and family are in driving range. Most of us feel that his mum would be pretty cool to meet, but Adam steadfastly refuses to accept this. This conversation regarding Adam's imitation of Lilligan happened, however, that really highlighted his feelings on his mum: 

Jessi: "It was hilarious!"

Adam: "I don't remember this at all."

Me: "You were trying to demonstrate how terrifying she is." 

Adam: "Are we talking about my mum now?"

Felicity: "I am so glad that that segue just happened." 

After getting Lilligan, we headed for the coast and castle Bamburgh, which took a surprisingly long time. When we finally got there, though, it was well worth it.

This is the Bamburgh castle.

There were a whole bunch of island-y things out in the North Sea. We never really figured out what was on them, except probably lots of birds.

The sky was really pretty, but my camera doesn't like doing cool sky pictures.

I had some striking memories of sand traps at golf courses as we tried to find the beach.

It was quite imposing.

Lilligan. She was moving pretty fast.

Pretty sky, pretty landscape.

Gorgeous sky, nice silhouette 

Beach! Finally... 

Lilligan had this thing where she would set her stick down, decide that it was buried, and start digging. The problem with this was that she kind of went backwards with the force of her digging.

It was a very clean beach. 

Imposing castle silhouette! And Adam's head in the front left corner there.

We all wrote our names in the sand and made fun of Adam's handwriting.

Jessi had fun with the dog.

Jessi was probably more fun to watch than the dog, actually.

That backwards digging thing again.

And the stick was in a tide puddle.

More castle silhouette!

We decided to storm the castle, but felt that this wasn't the best way to go.

Adam, Jessi, Felicity in front of Bamburgh village

Not storming on this side, either.

We saw a secret staircase and decided to climb it.

See that dark slit-like thing on the wall? That's where the stairs ended. There's a gate and a lot of pigeon poo in there.

I'm not sure why it has a fence around it, but it's a cool rock...

I think we tried to hop this part of the fence. We failed.

Behind the gates? Rubbish bins. Such a fancy enclosure...

In spite of our valiant attempts to scale fences and sneakily climb likely-looking walls, all the gates were locked and all the walls were either impossible for us to climb or were guarded by sneaky piles of grass clippings. After we finally gave up due to not wanting to get any more nature all over us, Jessi drove Adam's car for a while. We were doing pretty well until Adam yelled that she was turning into the wrong lane while she was turning (she wasn't), but she recovered pretty well. Felicity and I didn't get to drive because we don't know how to drive manuals. After dropping Lilligan back with Adam's sister, we went and had dinner at the pub in his hometown. The food was kind of weird, but we experienced some cultural things, like "pie" means "food with puff pastry set on top" and custard is something you pour over your food. Felicity also gave Adam some tips on how to pick up girls with his accent while he's in Maryland.

When we got home, this greeted us.

"Oh, and there's a huge spider there, if you haven't seen it."

I thought Adam was being mean to Jessi, who was up on top of the chairs on the other side of the room by the time he finished saying "spider", but it really was there.

Hence. Jessi hates spiders.

Don't worry, I killed it. Tomorrow we're going to a football match, so I'll have a new post for that.

Helpfulness and Cultural Sensitivity — Tuesday 8 November to Friday 11 November

Tuesday was the "be helpful" day. I started off by turning the bin back over after SOMEONE (flo, conor, felicity, and maybe adam) turned everything in the kitchen over. Chairs? Check. Stools? Check. Theme night bottles on the windowsill? Check. Speakers? Check. Microwave? Check. Coffee table? Check. Toaster? Check. Electric kettle? Check. Bin? Check. Recycling bag? Check. All the papers on the bulletin board? Check. The random hairspray bottle we have on the counter? Check. The basil and parsley plants? Check. My cup of dried out, perfectly good white tea leaves and a tea ball? Check.
I was impressed, if peeved. I turned the bin over, since I had to throw my teabag away.

Chairs and coffee table. Bob, significantly, was not turned upside down.

Stools.

Speakers, and the weird Christmas moose.

Microwave, kettle, toaster. The kettle still had water in it...

The bin hadn't been turned over yet when I took the pictures.

They had only turned one paper over, but all the others got turned over when they got back.

We actually had someone come in from the office and ask us to turn our furniture back over. Apparently it's a safety hazard.
Since it was raining in an irritably misty fashion, I decided that I needed a head covering. The high volume of practicing muslims on campus makes me leery of wrapping a scarf around my head, I didn't feel like wearing the hat I did bring, and I don't have anything with a hood that I would wear outside my own flat. Besides, hoods are difficult with my hair. They just don't like each other. I had planned to meet Freya, the girl who I'd helped monday, on tuesday afternoon, so I went to the library, got a book to read for history seminar, perfected my lab report, and went to H&M for a hat, all between 10:30 and 12:00.
I got a call from Freya (the lab report girl) as I was heading back from H&M. The guy with the neckbeard from biochem's computer had crashed, and could I email him a word document so he could redo his entire lab report? Thanks.
I would never leave a fellow biochemist in the lurch, especially one who is as baffled by the lack of mathematical education in this country as I am, and especially one with such an impressive neckbeard.
History lecture was the most boring thing. Usually, there's something that can be concluded from the historical records. Today? Nothing. We could only conclude that we really don't know what went on with literacy and education in early modern england, but first we had to go over what we might possibly conclude, and why it was wrong.
The high point was when a random australian who sounded oddly american came in and excitedly told us about a "summer abroad volunteer" thing. Delphine, the french lecturer who is also the least annoying lecturer I've had so far, looked a little peeved when she poked her head into the room, but allowed her to come in and bounce off the walls. There was a theory that she was some random street person who made up some fliers and put on an australian accent to mess with people.
The afternoon was consumed by biochemistry. Freya had just had a death in the family, so she decided to push her due date back while getting as much done as possible, but I had to figure out the library turn-in system. It was pretty easy; you just need your name, student number, module leader's name, date the assignment is due, date it was assigned, module name, module code, and the assignment title. I still felt pretty accomplished when I turned it in.
When I got home, I made crepes. I will never let a crepe tuesday pass me by. I still haven't quite figured out the way that the hob (stove) heats, because sometimes, 6 isn't hot enough, and other times, 4 is too hot. Whatever. The crepes were pretty good; I suspect that the few that Jessi didn't eat have either been hidden or devoured by the party downstairs.
I've been having trouble getting to sleep because there's literature assignment all over my bed making me feel guilty and there's thumping music downstairs.
Funny story. I got an email from whitworth a while ago with the registration schedule. I was all set to register at 3PM Wednesday, when I remembered the time zone thing. Panicked, I tried to remember when 3 PM pacific time was in london time, and convinced myself that it was at crazy early in the morning. No, it's not. It's at 11PM london time. I reset my google calendar, discovering a cool time zone feature along the way.

Wednesday, I really didn't want to go to class. I got to bed late on tuesday night (stupid lit assignment), and I had slept well but short. It was freezing outside my covers because I think Jessi opened the window when she got home, why I don't know. In any case, she didn't close it. After closing the window around 7, I went back to sleep until 7:45, when my first alarm went off. I then slept intermittently around my alarms, which I only seem to be able to turn all the way off when I'm still asleep. I seriously considered sleeping through my seminar, seeing as the sky looked bleak. It sounded like a good idea, and a perfectly valid reason, until I considered the fact that my professor can actually tell if I skip that class. I regretfully dragged myself out of bed.
After class, I helped Freya (whose name is actually spelled Freeha, but she hates that spelling and tells everyone "Freya" to simplify things, which sounds like my "I'm from oregon" modus operandi for identification here) with her lab report. I was starting to feel a bit used, but in the long run I'd rather feel used than mean.
I won at registration, and I got into almost everything that I'd planned to take. I resigned myself to intro to public speaking instead of interpersonal comm, and got a fitness-wellness gen-ed in the form of water aerobics (held monday, wednesday, and friday at 8). My next MWF class is core 250 at 10:25, so I'll have time to change and such. Win! I also got both of my 3rd year chemistry classes and their labs at reasonable times, and I think my core d-group is with a cool leader. I also have karate 2, which claims to have Sensei Canon (instead of the new guy that he called on to take over so he could get a new job that he liked better). I'm not getting my hopes up, but it would be awesome if he was back.

Thursday I skipped my 0900 lecture. I looked outside and it was all grey... I couldn't make myself get up. I did go to the noon part of the lecture, which was kind of interesting. I had a nerd freakout, though, when I was thinking about how small molecules of water and air are to fit inside cells and capillary electrophoresis tubes and that sort of thing. I was actually briefly claustrophobic because I was thinking about all the molecules that were completely filling the room and smashing into everything. I was in a huge room that wasn't stuffy or even that warm, with no one sitting right next to me. It was really weird.
Between seminar and lab, I called this haircut place called Sherlocks, mostly to see if they were walk-in or appointment, since I had a coupon and needed a haircut. They took walk-ins but preferred appointments, so I made one for Friday at 13:00 (1PM). The connection wasn't good, so I ended up giving my name as Anne because Raeann would have been too hard to spell. I may have also given my last name as Hudson by accident. I ended up nearly gaining a northern accent when I was giving my mobile number, the last three digits of which are 116. For some reason, my pronunciation was confusing, so I slipped from my fairly broad uh (wuhn) to more of an oo (woon). I hope I'll be able to pull this off in America. It will be nice being able to say "Washington" and having most people know that we're either there already or that I'm not talking about the capitol of the country. I'm tempted to switch to Anne anyway, just because of the wide range of spellings that I get for Raeann in America. I'll respond to it, so...
Lab was... pointless. There were only enough gels for 8 groups, which meant that one person got all the experience. Also, no one got all seven bands that we were supposed to get. Fail. I had odd flashbacks from senior year at PNNL, since that was my project for the last few weeks. I didn't actually learn to read the gels, but I was pretty good at preparing and running them.
While waiting for the gels to run (90 minutes), Freya and I went for coffee. Neckbeard tagged along, and I discovered his latent veronica capabilities. He doesn't seem to be able to stand silence. I also came up against the strangest instance of cultural insensitivity that I've ever witnessed. This could be because most white americans, especially in a study abroad situation or a university setting, tend to be really cautious about offending. Even if you think someone is dead wrong, chances are that you won't say a word.
A small amount of backstory is required for this to make sense: 1. Everyone in england smokes. Not everyone, but pretty close. There are cigarette butts everywhere.
2. Freya is pakistani, which I don't consider asian, as such, but I guess it really is. I think of asians as eastern asians (oriental is a type of rug).
Freya also smokes, and she did so on the walk to starbucks, which is right by an entrance to the bridges (so fairly visible). She commented on how awkward she feels smoking in public, because there is apparently an asian social stigma against asian girls who smoke in public. It's not considered a very, um, moral thing to do. Neckbeard, who is bulgarian, flipped out. He thought it was ridiculous, which it kind of is (let's face it, every culture has something that another culture considers ridiculous embedded in it), but he also thought that it was somehow offensive, and kept insisting that she didn't have to be sneaky about smoking. She obviously didn't want to be seen as a person of loose character by other asians, and kept trying to change the subject while maintaining that she doesn't like smoking in public.
The only thing I can really think to compare it to is this. It's as if someone moved to a place where general opinion was that underwear is all you need. Naturally, most (sober) people from the first world, at least, think that pants are also required. They're going to keep wearing pants because they're just not comfortable without them. Then someone who doesn't think pants are necessary comes up and belittles their insistence on wearing pants over their underwear. No one else in that society cares if they wear pants, and no one has really commented on it to date because it's not that big of a deal, but this local makes a huge deal out of it. Of course the pants-wearer is going to keep wearing pants.
Of course Freya won't just start smoking in public.
Geh. It rather soured the afternoon. Plus, neckbeard doesn't know how to shut up, seriously.
After having a frustrating discussion with the impossible little frenchman about exams, I went home and flopped into the kitchen, where I stayed for a few hours. It was very relaxing, not needing to do anything.

So, exams? Biochemistry modules all have their exams in june. Even the fall semester modules. Even the fall semester modules that end in december.
What.
And the exams are all accredited, so I can't have them just write up a slightly revised version that I can't pass along to my classmates to their benefit unless I managed to get the whole biomedical sciences department to back me on wanting exams in january.
Unlikely. And I'm probably not going to be able to just write an essay. Looks like I might have to go to a british embassy or consulate, where I am, in essence, on british soil, and sit the accredited exam five months after the course finished. I don't know what this means for my credits, and I'm not sure if I can choose to just not transfer them. I'm trying to not stress about it right now, since I still have an essay due in less than a week that I still haven't really started.
Of course, if my credits won't transfer... I have to wait until monday for a lot of things, like getting the exam schedule so I can look into going to london at the end of January, setting up a meeting with the ISEP lady here, and call iceland air to move my ticket up about a week. I'm thinking I might just go to London and leave from there, although the luggage situation would be a little tricky. I don't want to take what will likely end up being three suitcases and my bag on what will probably be the megabus, but possibly a train.
We'll see.

Friday I slept in until almost noon, for the win, and then went to get a haircut. Jessi came with me to get out of the flat and do some gift shopping, and Josie came to get a travel bag for Bob Diddyfish, who has been the subject of a few inquiries by the university. I was a little nervous about the haircut, since the plan was to get a rather dramatic shortening, but it ended well. I'm still in the confused stage between "My hair looks awesome!" and "Oh, it's so short! Where did it go?"
It's pretty short around my face, which is throwing me off when I try to move it out of the way of food or something because grabbing the ends means brushing it away from my face instead of tossing a lock over my shoulder. Lunch was around 14:30, and was obtained at Fatso's, which has jacket (baked) potatoes, soups, and salads. Possibly also sandwiches. I got a jacket potato, which sounds cooler than baked potato, with cheese and a smallish salad that came with it. We ate at Murray Library, where we ran into Flo, who'd just come from his first day at Liebherr, where he will pretty much be a translator between the Sunderland branch and the main corporation in Austria, which apparently refuses to speak english to its english branches.
When we got back, I got all my books for my lit assignment out, then fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was about to head downstairs for dinner when Jessi hurriedly informed me that Adam was about to go to Asda, and did I need anything?
Yes. I decided to use next week's food budget to stock up a bit, and as a result, I shan't be getting anything from Aldi next week. When I run out of milk, I'm out until the week after. Of course, I can just use everyone else's until then, so I'm not worried. I got lots and lots of fresh fruit, which was exciting, and a new container of flour for crepes. I may have gone overboard on the fruit juices and yogurts (sometimes pronounced yaw-gurts). I'm going to miss hazelnut yogurt a lot when I go back home.
I am a bit worried about the going back home situation, but I'm kind of trying to forget that over the weekend. I need to focus on writing that thrice-accursed assignment.

Monday 17 October to Thursday 20 October

Monday was pretty uninteresting. I mostly watched old doctor who episodes, and grudgingly went to class to discuss gulliver's travels. My edition was randomly abridged, and it didn't tell me. It cut out all the scatology, or discussion of awkward body functions and characteristics. While I don't mind not having the rather disgusting descriptions, I was irritated by the uninformed exclusion, especially when it's for a lit class. Gross as it is, it's a part of Jonathan Swift's writing style, and there's actually an essay question on it.

I had another successful crepe Tuesday, and it's become a recognised thing in the flat. "Hey, you're up early— Oh, yeah, it's tuesday." The day went downhill, as I was forced to discuss politics in history. This is topic that I try to avoid if at all possible, whether I'm at home or abroad, because politics creates artificial divides in casual friendships. Closer relationships, like dating relationships, should probably be based on a mutual agreement about the way the world works, but I'm not looking for that here. People want to talk politics with me because I'm American, and American politics are kind of related to everyone else's, but I don't like talking politics. The day was salvaged by a) crepes for lunch and b) the Early Modern Mafia.
The Early Modern Mafia is what my history professor called the general perception of the criminal underworld in Early Modern England. I want shirts of that, and I'm thinking about doing my final essay on it. It's pretty fascinating, the perception of crime versus reality versus how can we tell?!
Tuesday also included a ton of homework. I'm trying to get my history presentation going and my lit essay question figured out before we go to Edinburgh, since they're due either the week that we get back or the week after. I also worked on my lab reports, which were miserable. I had to explain to Jessi why I couldn't just drop my terrible data points that killed my results. It's a crime against science, and something that one does not do.
Tuesday night, we talked about prostitutes because Adam needs to interview one for his documentary. First, his plan was to wander around sketchy parts of Newcastle at night with his film partner, but then his mom (mum) set him up with the location. Flo made lots and lots of jokes. "Oh, are we going to pick up the prostitute now?" "What's your mom's name? I need some advice." Poor Adam is actually kind of nervous about this, because he doesn't want to seem like he's a, um, customer, but he does need to attract their attention so he can interview one. I'm hoping that he shares his documentary with the flat.

Wednesday was pretty uneventful. I mostly did homework, and then blogged instead of doing more homework. I also discovered Dr. Horrible, which is a short musical done during the writers' strike a few years ago. It's pretty much awesome. I would have stayed up later to watch more of it, but the internet was being flaky.

Thursday was lots of biochemistry, as usual. My lab partners were Adam, who I keep thinking of as Peter for reasons unknown to me — do I know any Peters that even vaguely resemble him? No.— and Jedward, whose real name is in fact Edward. The experiment was frustratingly repetitive and dull, and we were ready to go way before we were done. The impossible little frenchman was as impossible as ever. I'm really hoping that the class improves, not that I think it really will, because this sucks. The lectures are uninformative, the labs are tedious... I'm a bad scientist. Really all that I hate about lab is the impossible little frenchman and the tediousness of science without fancy instruments.

I switched to the new blogger layout, which has been around for a while, I think. I'm having some trouble figuring out the labels format, since I finally got used to the old one. This is what the old one should have been like, but now I have trouble with it. Go figure. I'm blogging now to avoid circulating Conor's birthday card, seeing as it would involve stealth, which is not my best quality, and actually knocking on people's doors.
You're probably still thinking about how bad of a scientist I am. So am I; but here.
I'll make you forget that I'm a hideously bad scientist by distracting you with pictures:

Cool wall!

Delicious!

More delicious!

EVEN MORE DELICIOUS!

The Sick Week — Monday 10 October to Thursday 13 October

So I spent the whole weekend inside because I had a cold. I drank about thirty cups of tea and watched way too much TV. I still have a bit of a cold, but I think it's getting better.

Monday I explored the Murray Library (the city campus library, and the main library for the university) and discovered that it employs the most irritating, convoluted, and confusing organisational system known to man. It has three levels- ground, upper, and lower- with mostly informational kiosks and short-term loan (three hour) books on the ground floor. The subject I wanted was on the upper floor, but the book from that subject that I ended up with was actually on the lower floor. It took me about an hour to find it, and my search included three different catalogue searches and a total of three trips up and down both flights of stairs.
I didn't even like the book.
Today also marked the first time I've seen the metro inspectors, who were up to this point something of a mythical threat to encourage people to buy tickets. There's a £20 fee for riding without valid fare, which costs £1.50 for the average trip.
A lot of students buy the £40 year pass for our zone, which is worthwhile if you take the metro more than 27 times. Probably more students just kind of ride without fare, for reasons like a lack of change or time to pay or simply an unwillingness to pay.
English Literature 1700-1789 was as boring as last time. We discussed a rather dry not-a-novel (it would seem that we're entering the age of the novel, but Journal of the Plague Year is really not very novel-y. It's more like a fictional autobiography, a category that drives me slightly up the wall. I'm not a huge fan of Daniel Defoe, but I guess he's not too bad. I did enjoy what I read of Journal, and Robinson Crusoe wouldn't be so popular if there was nothing good about it— I just remembered Twilight. Never mind.
Thomas was actually there this time, and so available to defend me against serial killers and rapists that could have been lurking in the shadows as I walked to the bus stop. He did just get off crutches from knee surgery, so he was less useful than he might have been, but I feel that the fact that he's at least 2 metres (over 6 feet) tall and fairly athletic should deter all but the most intrepid serial killer. Also, I haven't heard of any serial killers or rapists lurking about the main campus of the University of Sunderland, so Mom, Dad, it's okay.

Tuesday involved my really cute pair of red wedge heels and not much else. I did walk to the rowland's (down the road from Clanny House) to get cough drops (pastilles, which are squishy and last about an hour, and lozenges which are hard and last about five minutes — I looked up the definitions to find the pronunciations, which have long eluded me). It turns out that Throaties are the best thing ever, although it took me a bit to get over the licorice taste.

Pastilles all seem to come in these little bubble packages.

Lozenges just come in bags. These taste like menthol-y blackcurrant (tastes kind of like purple fruit, sort of like blackberry; is a huge deal here, like grape, cherry, and orange in candy; strawberry in jams and jellies; and apple, cranberry, and grape in juice) candy.

They clear out my nose and throat so well that it's worth it. I think I drank lots of tea as well. Not much happened tuesday, really.

Wednesday, I discovered that my pastilles are basically cough medicine mixed with old-fashioned candy... and beeswax. I don't let it get to me; they're still really awesome. I can get them for way cheaper at green's than at rowland's, but green's doesn't have cheap nighttime cold medicine, so I'm out of cash and can't get Throaties. It's time to make a move on the cash machine in the library, which is swamped with people as I write this during my lunch break thursday.
I decided to take the evening off, so I snuggled up in my bed with Gulliver's Travels for my lit class, my computer, my Throaties, and some menthol-infused kleenexes that Jessi gave me.
Gulliver's Travels is the most blatantly political book that's ever been labeled a children's book. It's so transparent. I ended up getting a lot done on the blog because I couldn't keep reading. Oh, my. Apparently, Swift is mocking Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe, with his odd attention to detail. I didn't really find Defoe's detail obsession irritating in Journal of the Plague Year, but Swift drove me crazy. Do not like. I eased my mind by blogging, and then by reading hyperbole and a half for about an hour after I looked up the "clean all the things" picture for the Clanny House post.

Thursday started out pretty well. I woke up on time, remembered my wallet, caught the bus, and made it to class early. This was an improvement over last week, when I woke up early but forgot my wallet, missed the bus, and only just made it to class on time by speed-walking all the way to campus in about ten minutes. So this week, I started my day tired, sick, and grumpy but not exhausted, overheated, and soaking wet.
Then we got into real science instead of quality control crap. It was a little irritating because the lecturer was the lady who talks like we're in kindergarten again, but I still like her better than the impossible little frenchman.
I was overjoyed when we started using equations. We derived a bit of a monster, but I'd seen the variables before and it was strictly algebraic. I can't imagine what this group would do if faced with calculus.
There I was, sitting in a stuff lecture theatre with a bunch of tittering morons trying to figure out "where k2 went" (it was there all along, didn't they see the bit where Vmax = k2[E0]? The equals sign means that they're the same thing, guys...), and all I could think of was how beautiful the derivation and equation were. I was actually in awe of it. I'm still kind of in awe half an hour later, to be honest. It's incredible, beautiful, awe-inspiring, and people think it could have happened just by chance.
**Also, Andrew, brother mine, mathematical adept: When did you learn to expand bracketed expressions? I can't remember the exact phrase that I learned the concept under, but it means that A(B+C) = AB + AC. I feel certain that I'd learned it by 9th grade (geometry for me), but I can't remember exactly because it's so idiotically simple that I feel like I've always known it. So please try to remember when you learned it and let me know in comments or by texting my google voice number. Comments might be more efficient. Mom and Dad have my number, and it might also be on the blog or on facebook in one of my posts. If you don't answer this within the week, I'll post this question on your facebook wall, possibly to the point of spamming you, and then I'll start bombarding your mobile with texts about it.
I'm wondering about when I learned that A(B+C) = AB + AC because the algebraic morons in my class (oh, yes, they've been upgraded from idiots to morons) could not for the life of them figure that out. Luckily, the kid sitting next to me, who I believe is british (unrelatedly, he has a neckbeard that could rival that of George Whitworth), was as in awe of their inability to get this fairly simple concept as I was. There is hope for the british educational system, maybe!
Also, I drew a picture of a pastille.

Sorry about the blurriness. There's an arrow pointing to the roundish blob inside the splashy squiggle, and the words underneath are "unadulterated awesomeness". The roundish thing is a pastille. 

A real pastille to show you what it actually looks like. That's a terrible picture.

Now I'm sitting in the library, which just kicked me off its reading list page when I was trying to print the list of books I need to read for my presentation in history. These hour-long breaks are kind of annoying- not really enough time to go home, too much time to sit around without a long book or a computer. However, I think that having to lug my computer around is a fair price to pay to make thursdays less sucky.
Lab turned out to be pretty good. I've joined up with a group of people who may or may not be drunk and/or high at any given point, but they don't giggle and they didn't reject me when I was forcibly placed with them. This makes me seem like I have really low self esteem, which is not necessarily true, but it kind of is when I'm trying to join a group. I still get nervous when I'm with close friends; imagine total strangers! My first impressions of my lab group were less than favourable, but they're nice enough, and not just to the slightly awkward american, that I'm becoming rather attached to them as a lab group. I rather doubt that I'll spend any time with them outside of lab, but this is a good start for me.
Mike looks like Hank Green of the Vlogbrothers (with messier hair than in that wikipedia picture), and Adam (not the fount of all knowledge from my flat, although he's pretty good a biochem lab procedures) resembles Wade, the TA from Plant Bio. Joe is lab partners and, apparently, good friends with Mike, "Jedward", whose real name I learned last week and promptly forgot (it might be Edward, but it might also be Richard), partners with Adam, and Robyn, who is slightly intimidating but good natured enough to forgive my head cold-induced deafness, was partners with me. Last week, we were all kind of a large globby group who stole each others results because Adam and Robyn got in late.
After lab, I barely caught the bus and got off at Green's, where I triumphantly purchased two packages of Throaties (blackcurrant and original- we'll see how the blackcurrant compares to the awesomeness that is the original) before heading home.

I believe this bag is from the pharmacy suppliers, also known as chemists. It tickles me to be told to go to the chemist's, although the signs are all for "pharmacy"

*Cue angelic choir*

I ended up exploring. There's a huge methodist church across the street from the catholic church on the street that runs by the hospital, and there's practically nothing further down the street that Clanny's on. There is, however, plenty down the street just after Clanny. I didn't have the time or money to act on my explorations, but I did buy a personal pizza to justify wandering aimlessly around a grocery store.
Update- I burnt my pizza by forgetting about it. But it was still really delicious.
Then, I did, like, all the dishes. Because I'm awesome.
I suspect that my blog for today will keep being more and more hyperbolic (in the literary sense, not the geometric sense).
Also, I figured out why today was less awful than last week: I wore rainbow socks.

The source of my power. Awesome socks, awesome day.
Also, terrible shot of my leg. It's just perspective making my calf look bigger than my shoe.

The day ended with Jessi and I taking in Bob Diddyfish, the goldfishfish that we're technically not allowed to keep in the flat and who belongs to Josie, the australian girl. She's going to London to take her brother sightseeing for a few days, and then going to germany to see her mom and family for most of a week, so we're fish-sitting Bob for a week until Conor, the guy who lives on the same floor as Josie and who took care of Bob last time she was away, gets back. 

The post didn't get more hyperbolic, I just noticed. Sorry. I picked it back up after four or five hours, and look what happened.

After settling Bob in on my dresser, Jessi and I talked for about two hours. We also fixed the heater.

Because we're AWESOME.

Success, Views on the World, and I Don't Like Thursday — Tuesday 4 October to Thursday 6 October

Tuesday saw an interesting development in my viewing of the world, yet again. Up to this point, I was under the impression that Americans were the only people group that exhibited the "ugly American syndrome", but, in retrospect, I think we may have inherited it from the British. When I thought about it a little, I remembered that the British colonised, and made multiple attempts to civilise the savage, heathen corners of the earth. Remember the British Empire? Yeah. My new acquaintance had this to say about the rest of the world: "Yeah, France is nice except that it's full of French people. Germany would be okay too, but there's so many Germans... And I bet America is quite nice, but you'd have to put up with all the Americans, begging your pardon. Yep, this is the best place in the world with the best people in the world." He also recommended Idiot Abroad, a TV show about a british guy that gets taken to various countries around the world. Apparently, the star of the show shares the sentiments of my history class companions.
History class also brought me into contact with the Veronica White of Sunderland. Apparently there are two of her, since I hear there's an art major like her as well. She's the sort of person who, once she starts talking, doesn't know how to shut up. Not that I claim to be much better, but in class I do tend to keep quiet. Not so for the Veronicas of the world. I believe that the original Veronica at Whitworth was unaware that she was doing anything wrong or impolite, and I think that it's the case with these two as well. Unfortunately for my conscience, I'm not a nice enough person to befriend them and do them the kindness of helping them out with their social skills. Quite frankly, I can't stand people like that. This is probably indicative of some awful traits that can be found in me, but some people get under my skin.

Wednesday was a successful day. I successfully contributed to the discussion in history seminar, which may well have prevented me from embarrassing myself by being asked what book I read (because I didn't read). Success!
After class I sat down in the library cafe to determine the plot of The Rape of the Lock, Alexander Pope's mock-epic monster. I was determined to sit there and write down every plot point until I made sense of the whole thing. Unfortunately, the library had a fire alarm, so I picked a new location (City Space, the building which houses the cafeteria and the gymnasium) to occupy until I defeated Pope.
Success came, but not without much grumbling and several notes in my plot outline regarding the pointlessness of the whole thing. I believe that this may have been Pope's point in writing it, actually, since he was writing in an epic fashion about a stupid trivial thing that was treated as something incredibly serious. I don't dislike him any less, and I don't think that he was really all that great, but he wasn't too bad. It was still a bit of a crabbed number, but it was less unmanageable when I worked at it.
I also succeeded at biochemistry calculations while ensconced in City Space.
After my wild academic successes, I decided not to take the metro back, since I would have to wait longer than it would take me to walk. I ended up taking a back way, which is regrettably not faster than the normal way. There's a little street that curves around behind the Royal Hospital (across the street from Clanny), and it's probably one of the most british places in Sunderland. There's a post office, and several little tea rooms, bakeries, and grocery stores, as well as no fewer than four fruit and veg stores and two pharmacies. I'll have pictures tomorrow, since I plan on mailing the postcards I've done so far.
I decided, as I was walking, that I want to move Whitworth to Sunderland. I want my professors and my three-minute walk to class and my friends and Whitworth's lack of administrative nightmares, but I really love this place. I'm not sure that my Whitworth friends and Sunderland friends would mesh very well, though.
I watched How to Train Your Dragon, which has been highly recommended to me. It was pretty good, although the vikings are scottish and Gerard Butler. Hmm. The story is mostly cute, with some impressive cultural messages and some rather serious plot twists. The soundtrack is good, and I discovered that it was composed by John Powell, who did the Bourne trilogy and has worked extensively with Hans Zimmer, who seems to be the John Williams of the last decade or so. The dragon is adorable. D'awwww... The most scottish viking, voiced by Craig Ferguson of late night talk show fame, has a great line about trolls: "They EXIST! They steal your socks! Only the left ones, though..." I maintain that the trolls work with the car key gnomes, and that they've been hanging about the Clanny laundry room, since I just lost a sock.

Thursday has been a bit of a trial. I don't like thursdays, since I have class 9-5 with two 1-hour breaks, and I have to deal with the impossible little french biochemist who can't explain things very well in english.
First, I found out that Steve Jobs had died about ten minutes before I ended up having to leave for the bus. I think that Joy of Tech has one of the best memorials. Gizmodo has published several pieces as well.
I also received some unfortunate news about my grandpa's health.
Then, I forgot my wallet and ended up missing the bus and walking to class in the cold wind (although I walked so fast to keep from being late that I eventually took off my coat). I just made it on time to biochem.
We had a new prof, who is easier to understand because she's british, but she talks like the class is comprised of first graders. Also, the subject of the two-hour session was quality control and SOPs, followed by a one-hour session that was on calculations instead of spectrophotometry.
Bleh. What it all comes down to, to borrow her favourite expression, is that I signed up to learn about biochemistry, not about being a biochemist.
Lab was okay, although the impossible frenchman was back. We were doing a protein assay, and I was excited to recognise several terms and concepts from my internship at PNNL. The Bradford reagent, for the Coomassie protein assay, was as brown as ever, and it turned a familiar blue in the presence of protein. We used BSA standards, and made curves. It was all so familiar... My group and I forgot that we were diluting our standard by another 10x, so we had a failure of a standard curve. Sad day. Luckily, we did one run with the 100x diluted standards, and the results were much less awful.
When I got home, I discovered the ginger Clanny House cat outside the flat drinking milk. He's so friendly, which is good because I needed a kitty snuggle. He's got this incredible long fur, and I suspect that someone brushes it. In any case, he submitted pretty readily to snuggles as long as I didn't take too long.
It was a pretty exhausting day. As soon as I got inside, I went to bed and slept for about three hours before venturing downstairs to eat dinner at around 8 (20:00). I ended up staying in the kitchen and watching a few episodes of Downton Abbey, a british TV show that Conor introduced to Josie, Jessi, and me (Flo and Micha are too busy, Thomas is still gone, and Adam already knew about it).
Now it's time for me to go to bed again. I have a lot of sleeping planned for tomorrow morning, in the absence of any classes. Also, I think my typing might keep Jessi up. Sorry, roommate!