Manic, Unemployed Monday

I got 5 hours of sleep last night for no reason other than I lay there and couldn't fall asleep. I don't know what it is, maybe my body's instinct to preserve every last bit of energy until it runs out. This morning wasn't so terrible even though the bus, once again, almost caused me to be late. I left at 8:25 and just made it into the classroom at 9:05. Meh. I had my first class this morning (Note: classes are different from lectures; classes are capped at 20, lectures... seemingly not), and it brought to light one of my main frustrations with LSE. Why the hell do they pick out of print books that are a.) unavailable at the library; b.) in limited quantities at the library i.e. 5 books to 40 students; c.) in some library in the Greater London area, but they're not sure which and how many copies; or d.) unavailable on the internet, out of print, or on sale used for 99 pounds. I'm not sure if students actually work harder than students in the U.S. or if they just work harder to simply obtain the books. I'm willing to read, yes. Willing to research at the library, fine. Willing to spend hours tracking down a book to read a few chapters for this week's lecture and class? Fuck no. I didn't come to study abroad to learn the Dewey Decimal system.

Another frustration. I was on time, borderline late, for my Political Economy class this morning as well. My .95p fried egg roll somehow took 10 minutes to get to me and I was enraged and annoyed, but I won't get into it. So I rush off to Peco and just like last time, every desk is occupied and people are sitting on the floor in the back. It's ridiculous that they book classrooms where there are not enough desks for students. We're not talking 1 or 2 desks short. We're talking 10-15 desks short AT LEAST. I went into an empty classroom next door and dragged in a desk to an empty spot at the door. Other students were not so lucky and sat outside the door, unable to see the board, like I did last time. Others cursed, as I would too, when they saw the full classroom and just left in frustration. What the fuck, LSE? In infrastructure so weak that they can't even plan out which classroom to assign for which class?

So as you can see, my experiences with this side of LSE have been unsatisfactory thus far. However, I don't mean to say that my professors or class teachers don't seem good. They are so far. It's just that these fubars (you all know the acronym) are major ones and they should be corrected, not overlooked. They are an impediment to students learning AND it obviously favors wealthier students that can just buy books and be better off with less effort wasted on the frivolous search for books; it's opportunity cost. I'm among those fortunate enough to be able to buy the books and man, I'm thankful for it; less time wasted.

While I said I'm fortunate enough to buy books, the same doesn't apply for eating and feeling full. I'm Starvin' Marvin over here, but testing out this new daily budget to see how it goes. I had a good, filling dinner, but it pretty much cost me my daily budget. So... I spent the day job-searching online. I've applied for three so far, and I'm crossing my fingers. Two are retail, which I'd prefer, and one is data entry. My hours aren't flexible enough for anything real... plus I really don't want to have to worry about business casual right now. So... cross your fingers for me. I need a job and I need it now. Cheers, as they say.

Oh. A happy thing. I finally have some cookware to work with!

Rugby Match recap

Last night I went down a pub by Liverpool Street Station to watch the Rugby World Cup semi-final match of England vs. France. My knowledge of rugby is mediocre at best, but I followed pretty well. Some strange observations though. Throughout the match, a manly man would bellow, "Swing lowwwww" and everyone would continue with "...sweet chariot / Coming for to carry me home" and so on. It's a puzzling choice for a rugby song in the middle of a crowded pub, because "Sweet Low, Sweet Chariot" is a spiritual folk song once sung by field slaves circa the United States in the late 1800s, and I first heard it in my Blues class at Georgetown. Also, it's a favorite of my nephews Ty and Zach. It seems that the Brits borrow a lot of music from Americans and I think, why? It's not like they're lacking in material.

There were some French fans at the pub and the British crowd was surprisingly receptive to their obnoxious "Viva la France!" cheers. I think the Brits just knew that they could probably take out the entire French crowd with a collective punch and didn't bother to react. Judging solely from the crowd at the pub, it wasn't hard to believe that the British have beaten the French in almost every major battle of history. The French were perhaps better looking, slimmer, and more stylish, but hey, looks don't win wars. The Brits were big and burly and slammed their fists on the tables. Before the match started, I asked my biggest male friend to protect me if England lost... or won.

I had a great seat and was in the midst of everything. When England won and people dropped and shattered pints of Guinness, I only suffered beer thrown in my air and on my shirt, a small price to pay for a genuine London experience. Perhaps the only blip in my so-called genuine experience was my McDonalds run at the half. I was STARVING from only eating an apple, banana, and chicken samosa the entire day and was going to pass out or get drunk quickly from my pint if I didn't find food. (Note to my parents: this is my a typical level of starvation thus far. Yes. I will guilt you).

We went to a different pub after the game and I was given a pint instead of a half-pint I ordered and so, paid the appropriate price, financially and physically. An empty stomach is no good. I have to say... I have no girl-friends in London. I am the girl in the midst of guys in almost every activity, except rock climbing, and of course, I am accosted for struggling to finish a pint. When I finally prove myself by finishing, I am bought another. Haha. It's all in fun though and it's a good time. I can't complain, because it's great to have some Gtown guys here.

Alright. I need to get the hell out of here. I've been choking down a terrible TV dinner for lunch and I can't bear it any more. My plan is to return to Soho for the third time in 3 days and acquire utensils and even a bowl and plate if I'm lucky.