When Sinuses Rebel

Back during the first semester of my first year at UVA, I took a seminar-style class called American Political Tradition. There was a lot of rather heated discussion of the day's issues in that class, and I remember the time healthcare reform came up. Our teacher told us that she was uninsured throughout her twenties, which is taking a pretty big gamble considering how hideously expensive healthcare is in the United States, but luckily nothing happened and she felt free to purchase insurance when she was older. The class's most strident conservative smugly argued that this was why people should not be "forced" to buy health insurance; they can get along fine without it. I was one of the more outspoken leftists in the class, and I jumped to healthcare reform's defense. "But what if you had gotten into a car accident or broken a leg?" I asked our teacher. "You could have been financially ruined. Young people think they're invincible, and it's true that they rarely have serious healthcare issues, but it's better to be safe than sorry!" And it goes without saying that in the United States, not being insured can make you very sorry indeed.

It turns out that I am a dirty hypocrite, because when I got to France, I didn't bother to go get French insurance. "I'm not going to get sick," I told myself. "It's only five months. What's the worst that can happen? I'll just have to take care of myself and be vigilant when crossing the street, and it'll be fine." Well, the expression "famous last words" came about for a reason. This past weekend and for a few days before that, I had been feeling considerable sinus pressure, to the point where it was difficult to sleep at night because my chest felt so constricted and my head was throbbing. I tried to ignore it, but last night it got to the point where I Skyped with my mom and told her how bad it had gotten. She told me to go to the doctor, and I knew she meant business. She's a registered nurse, and she said that my symptoms seemed consistent with a sinus infection, which if left untreated could turn into pneumonia. That scared me. I started taking ibuprofen, which helped, and promptly at 8 I hopped on the Metro to go to Universite de Lille 2's student health center.

Ostensibly the health center opened at 8:30, but they didn't actually unlock the front door until nearly 8:40, and then I had to explain myself to the lady at the front desk in my terrible French. There was no doctor in that day, so the nurse on duty took my temperature (normal), listened to my symptoms, and recommended me to another practice up the street. Off I went. Luckily the doctor up there spoke English, which meant I didn't have to sound like a complete idiot (I don't like not being able to express myself, which is what usually happens when I try to have a meaningful conversation in French). She listened to my heart and my breathing, took my blood pressure, and looked in my ears, and then told me that I didn't have a sinus infection (I would have a fever if I did), but that she would write me a prescription so that if it developed into one, I would have antibiotics to turn to. In the meantime, I should keep taking ibuprofen. Then she asked me for 23 euro in cash, which I didn't have, so I had to run out to an ATM and give it to her secretary. This would not have happened if I had bothered to turn in a few forms and get insurance. Yeah, I are dumb, guys.

I went back to my place, ate a quick breakfast, took more ibuprofen, and went to sleep. I ended up sleeping the rest of the morning and most of the early afternoon. It was nice to actually be able to sleep, and sleep well, though I woke up groggy and disoriented as I always do if I nap in the middle of the day.

The rest of the day felt completely separate from the morning. I walked to the Citadelle to meet Eva, where we ambled along one of the winding paths and just talked. She's a great person to hang out with - I'm glad we're friends. We then headed into the city center and had hot chocolate at a cafe. She had a French class that evening, so we said good-bye and I took the Metro back to my place; I would have walked, but it was getting dark, and I always feel slightly anxious about walking by myself in a city after dark. It was a good afternoon, though, and it took my mind off my sinuses. Thank God for friends!

Business as Usual

Woke up super late today, as my alarm didn't go off when it was supposed to. Felt sort of achy and generally not great, so I made a quick trip to the market and then stayed in bed for the day. Things are better now, so I should be okay for tomorrow. Spent the day listening to A Ring of Endless Light, drawing, and replying to emails/drafting essays/watching gymnastics on YouTube. Nothing much of consequence to report.

Ill Girl

When I went to France, I decided not to take my thermometer or first aid kit with me, because I am smart. Yeah, not so much. I've been out of commission most of this week with general nausea/sleep deprivation/lack of appetite. Luckily I'm feeling much better this weekend, but as this is the second time I've been miserably sick since I came to Europe, I must have terrible karma.

I actually made myself go to class on Tuesday and Thursday (luckily I didn't have any commitments on Wednesday), but Friday I woke up at the exact time my class started and I decided it was a sign I should probably stay in and get some rest. I spent a lot of time playing Sims, drawing, and watching Korra clips on Tumblr. I suppose I could have updated my blog, but I lacked the proper motivation to write, or expend much energy at all, really.

Today, however, I was recovered enough to be productive. And then I got a lovely surprise in the mail; my friends at Wesley sent me a card and some Cookie Bake cookies! Being sick kind of me made me feel down in the dumps, especially since this week was the first spring break mission trip I was missing, but that package picked me right up. It's so nice to be appreciated.

The card in question. They know me so well.

Not much else happening. I have some internship applications to finish and a Churchill exam to study for (not too worried about it, though). Other than that, spring is finally on its way here in France, and I'm excited for the next few weeks. Eva and I are going to Disneyland week after this, The Hunger Games will be out here two days before it's released in the States (though I might not actually see it until the 22nd), and my mom's visit is getting closer all the time. Yay!

Discoveries

Hey there! You may notice some mysterious updates from the past, mostly Downton Abbey reviews, start to find their way onto my blog. I shall say only this: I was working on a class project most of the week, there are certain days when I have no creative energy, and goodness, can Blogger's posting system be slow. Pay no attention to the retroactively blogging man behind the curtain.

Anyway, in lieu of a newsy post, here are some things I have discovered in my second month of living in France:

• Carrefour baguettes should really be eaten within two days of purchase. There is only so much a healthy slathering of Nutella can do to save stale bread.
• Making sure your phone isn't dead before you go somewhere can be very helpful. It can lessen the stress of an accidental train ride, and it can help you avoid awkward conversations in terrible French with other people's landlords.
• Always buy your fruits and veggies at the Wazemmes Market.
• Spaghetti can be delicious with mixed veggies instead of sauce, especially when prepared as outlined in your vegetarian cookbook.
• Train trips to Germany are super expensive. Gah.
• On the other hand, train trips to Disneyland Paris are not.
• Putting your small suitcase in front of your door will stop Demon Cat from forcing his way into your room at six in the morning, like he did on Wednesday.
• Staying up until three in the morning to watch the new episode of Switched at Birth is a bad life decision, especially when you're only doing it because you're bored.
• It is surprising how much you can get out of a movie even if you only understand about half the dialogue.
• French movies use a lot of English-language songs.
• Mushroom pizza on a baguette is pretty much the best thing ever.
• Churchill class is awesome when you know you've made a favorable impression on the instructor.
• If you drop your pastry on the street, the 10-second rule still applies. Just pick off the dirty bits and you should be fine. I haven't died yet.
• As gross as it is to pick up after your dog when you're taking him for a walk, it is infinitely more gross to have to constantly sidestep the business of other people's dogs. Seriously, France, how hard is it to take a grocery bag with you and just take care of things then and there?
• Spending day after day in cold and cloudy weather has made me appreciate El Centro's warmth and sunshine far more than I ever expected.
• Planning a vacation with your mother is actually really exciting, though it is a lot of work.
• Skype is a lifesaver.
• Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I miss UVa so much, and trying to find a way around a six-hour time difference is much harder than I thought it would be. On the other hand, nine hours between Lille and California is not as inconvenient as I expected. Basically, though, I wish I had my friends around.
• To end on a positive note: The past two weeks have been good ones for making new friends. :)

Sisterhood Everlasting [SPOILERS]

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants has a special place in my heart. They're not the best books ever written, but they spoke to me nonetheless. I hasten to add that I am a quite casual Traveling Pants fan; I've read the first three books and some of the fourth, and I own both movies. I was nevertheless surprised to hear that Ann Brashares had written another installment in the series, however. The cynical side of me thinks she just wrote it so she would have a guaranteed seller on her hands, but even if that is the case, Brashares's writing doesn't really suffer. In fact, I would say her prose is better than it's ever been, bearing in mind it's been a long while since I read the first book. Yet as well-written and ultimately good as this book was, it was also one of the saddest, most heart-wrenching things I've ever read.

Okay, if you don't want to be spoiled for this book, stop reading NOW. Major, major spoilers ahoy. In fact, it is impossible to really discuss this book without discussing the huge, series-changing spoiler, because it's the main plot point in the book. Look away!

Getting to the Netherlands (Eventually)

So remember back in December, when I went up to DC for my visa appointment, missed my train, and kind of freaked out before eventually finding my way back to Charlottesville? My parents told me then that this was a learning experience, and if it happened in Europe I would know what to do. Well, it happened it Europe, except this time I got on the wrong train, and I reacted roughly the same way. I'm not especially proud of myself right now, but I made it safely to Lauran's apartment in Hoofddorp, so I guess no harm was done in the long run.

Here is what happened: the first leg of the journey went smoothly. I got to the train station in Lille with plenty of time, I had my tickets, and I was on the train to Antwerp as soon as they announced the gate. I was actually sort of enjoying myself; one of my neighbors happened to be on the train with me, and we talked (she in French, me in English, and we understood each other) until her stop. It was snowing, which made everything really pretty outside. I started reading Sisterhood Everlasting, the new Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book, on my iPod, and ate some madeleines. Things were nice. Then I happened to check the time and realized my train was going to be late. I already had a very short layover in Antwerp, and I started to feel quite anxious. By the time we pulling into Antwerpen Centraal, my stop, I had maybe one minute to get to my next train. This was complicated by the fact that everything was in Dutch, including the announcements on the train. I glanced at what I thought was the departures board, and saw a train listing for Amsterdam at correct time. I didn't think twice about it; I just ran for the gate, and when a Thalys train appeared, I got on it. The cars were not numbered very well, however, so I decided to ask a conductor (in French, not my brightest idea) to show me where to go. The second she saw my ticket, she told me I had gotten on the wrong train, and explained where I should get off and change. This entire conversation was in her Dutch-accented French, and I was panicking, so I didn't really understand what was going on.

Of course, my phone was nearly dead because I hadn't given it enough time to charge earlier, and I had forgotten to write Lauran's number down before I left. I ended up frantically calling my mom and asking her to get on my Facebook and find the number. I had forgotten that my Facebook is in French, which my mom doesn't speak, and I was terrified (and yes, crying) about my mistake. She had to tell me the phone number a few times over before I got it down. I finally got in touch with Lauran and explained the situation; then the same conductor came and explained the directions to me in English, which made me feel somewhat sheepish for not trying my native language in the first place. As it turns out, I had gotten on a train to Essen, Germany. In Essen, I waited on the platform for a train to Rosendal, where I could find a train to Amsterdam. Apart from having to tell myself out loud, several times, that I was going to be okay and for goodness' sake stop crying, I made it to Rosendal without a hitch and boarded a train to Amsterdam within ten minutes. Some of the passengers there spoke English, and luckily no one ever checked my ticket, so I didn't have to explain the situation to a disgruntled conductor. I successfully got on a smaller train to Schiphol airport, which is closer to Lauran's apartment, and half an hour later she picked me up and we drove back to her place in the snow. As I told my mom on Skype later, I was pretty ashamed of how things turned out, but hopefully next time (fingers crossed there won't be a next time), I'll remember to a) keep my head, and b) speak English to the conductors. Anyway, I'm here, and that's the most important thing.

Lauran's apartment is beautiful and her cat is so friendly. She was very understanding about the whole situation, and didn't mind fixing a plate and some tea for me at eleven o'clock, which is about the time we made it to her place. Everything is actually quite pretty with all the snow, and I'm looking forward to Amsterdam tomorrow. Here's hoping the next post will be much more cheerful than this one!

Demon Cat

My landlady has a demon cat. When I got back from Paris, the little monster forced its way into my bedroom, climbed on top of me, and started meowing very aggressively. It followed me downstairs when I went to make dinner, and it kept jumping in front of me so I couldn't cut vegetables or slice bread or anything. There was a temporary respite when my landlady fed it, but then it got back into my room when I was Skyping my mom, and I had to pick it up and push it outside. This morning it woke me up. I felt it walking on me, which was not appreciated when I had only had five hours of sleep. I tried to pick it up and kick it out again, but the little beast yanked out its claws and had to be pried from my blanket. Generally I have nothing against cats (although usually if they're not declawed it makes me uncomfortable), but this cat is the spawn of Satan. Okay, that's a little strong. This cat makes me very, very grumpy and probably came from the pits of hell. Why can't Meagan's adorable cat Simba live here instead?

Sorry for the irritability; I have writer's block and I'm annoyed that my landlady's boyfriend is a smoker. If you want to poison your lungs, be my guest, but I don't recall giving you permission to poison mine. Argh.

Day Seven

Or, the post where Aida complains a lot when she really should be grateful she's even in France in the first place.

It has now been a week since I arrived in France. I don't really have much to write about today, as nothing of consequence happened. My French class met at 9 AM, which meant I had to get up entirely too early for someone who still isn't used to the time zone, and take the Metro during rush hour. I may not have mentioned this before, but I'm mildly claustrophobic, so this morning's ride wasn't very fun. The Metro car was completely packed, and as usually happens when I'm in a small, enclosed space with many other people, I started to feel anxious and short of breath. Luckily, I only had to wait five minutes until my stop, and then I could concentrate on running over to Sciences Po. By the way, apart from the Republique Beaux-Arts Metro station, Lille's Transpole system is in desperate need of some good cleaners. Maybe I'm spoiled by the DC Metro, which is generally clean(ish), but I'm not very happy with having to navigate around a floor covered with cigarette butts, used tickets, leaves, and spit. I know I sound peevish - I think I'm probably a little homesick. I was uncomfortable with how much people smoke in Virginia, but in France I'm starting to get a permanent stomachache from all the cigarette smoke. I've met some incredibly nice people in the international program who smoke, and I understand that it's an addiction and very hard to quit. That doesn't change the fact that it's deadly, and I don't enjoy being constantly surrounded by it. Sigh.

Other than having to deal with the Metro and smokers, the day went by reasonably well. I'm a fan of the cheese sandwiches served in Sciences Po's cafeteria, though I suspect I'll have to start limiting my intake if I don't want to gain five pounds of French bread. I finally took out some vegetarian recipes tonight to try and put together a menu, since for the past week I've basically been surviving on yogurt, bananas, and peanut butter when I'm not at school, and cheese sandwiches when I am. Basically, I really need some vegetables, stat.

No big plans for the weekend. I might go to an international student get-together tomorrow night, although considering most of the BDI events have involved bars and partying, I'm a little out of my element at them. Apparently there's a nice market in Wazemmes on Sunday with great prices, so I might do some shopping then. Other than that, I'm trying to take it easy; I've already had to spend money on French insurance, and until UVa sends me my refund in about a week, I've got to be responsible with my expenses. Shame, really, because I'd like to go to Paris, but I ought to be practical. Even in Europe, I'm the scholarship student.

In Which I Visit the French Consulate, Miss My Train, and Obtain Cupcakes!

Next semester, I will be studying abroad in Lille, France. Among other things, the French government requires that Americans who plan to attend a French university for more than 90 days obtain a student visa. It's a long and quite arduous process, which involves an exhaustive list of documentation, often in duplicate, at least two websites, and of course, humiliating passport photos. The last step is to visit the French consulate nearest your permanent address for an in-person visa interview.

I imagine this is complicated enough for someone who doesn't live and go to school on opposite sides of the country, but in my case I fretted for a few days over whether or not I would have to go to Los Angeles for my visa appointment. Luckily, my UVa student ID qualified as proof of residency, and with that, I had ample time to mosey on up to the consulate in DC and iron things out.

Naturally, I didn't end up going until today, almost exactly a month before I leave. Oops. I had an especially stressful week, thinking I had to have an address to put on my visa application before I went for my interview (as it turns out, having an address? Totally not necessary). I've now written email after email in my terrible French, trying to secure an apartment, at first without much success, although I last night I sent my prospective landlady a tentative agreement. With that behind me, I reserved a seat on the Amtrak (at vastly inflated prices, because of course I didn't do this until the day beforehand) and got my papers in order.

This morning I woke up at 5:30 to catch the 7:09 train. I figured I would dress, put on make-up, double-check to make sure I had everything, and be out the door at 6, with enough time to enjoy a leisurely breakfast at Little John's before walking over to the station. Instead I had to answer email from France and print out both my train reservation and my acceptance letter from Sciences Po. By the time I left my dorm room, it was almost 6:40, and I was once again thanking my lucky stars that I live in Brown and can get to places on time even if I wait until the last minute. One frantic ride on the 7 later, I was at the station with about five minutes to spare. Not great, but at least everything had worked out.

In fact, initially, things were going great. The train got into DC early, the Metro I wanted arrived at the same time I did, and I didn't have to wait at all for the bus to the French Embassy. I couldn't believe my luck. I was worried I would just barely make it to my appointment on time. Instead, I was there almost an hour early. The whole process felt very official, too; at the front gate, I exchanged my driver's license for a visitor's badge, walked into a spacious foyer, and entered a crowded room where people were speaking French almost as much as English. I sat down nervously, took out my iPod, and waited.

And waited. And waited. Apparently, there was a huge problem with the computer system this morning, and everyone's interview was delayed. I arrived at 10:20. I had an appointment for 11:15. I was finally called up about 12:30. By the time I had handed over my documents and paid for my visa, it was past 1. And surprise, I still wasn't done. My friend David, who is studying in Paris right now, mentioned that he had had to bring a prepaid express envelope to his interview, but I didn't see anything about it on the website when I was triple-checking the list of required documents, so I figured they had just changed their system. Nope. They still expected me to have an envelope, though they had completely neglected to tell me about it in advance. So I had to hop back on a bus, buy an envelope at the nearest post office, and get back to the Embassy by 3. I waited for nearly 15 minutes for a bus to arrive, and after the post office had to find a store with cash back so I could pay my return bus fare. This was on top of paying for my visa and buying the express mail envelope, which, let me tell you, wasn't cheap. I was also starving and considerably stressed out, considering I had had nothing to eat since a muffin on the train at 7:30 that morning and I was on a time crunch. Nevertheless, I eventually made it back to the consulate 10 minutes before I had to be there, and finished my application without much further hassle.

Originally, back when I was planning out my day, I thought I would be done with everything by noon at the latest and still have four hours to kill in DC before my train left. I planned on strolling over to Georgetown Cupcake and then maybe checking out a museum or walking by the monuments. Instead, it was almost 3:30 by the time I left, and I knew my cupcake stop would have to be quick if I wanted to be back at Union Station on time. I had texted my brother to look up directions while I was waiting for my appointment, and luckily it was not a long walk. But I had to wait in line outside the store (!), and then promptly got on the wrong bus for my trip back to the station. The shop assistants at Georgetown Cupcake told me to take the Circulator. I got on a Circulator, but because I have my moments of incredible stupidity, I got on the Circulator to Dupont Circle, not Union Station. At this point, it was just after 4, and I had a ticket for the 4:50 train.

If I had realized my mistake, I probably still could have gotten off at Dupont Circle and taken the Red Line back to Union Station, no harm done. But it was not until we passed a suspiciously familiar Christmas tree that I figured out with growing horror that we were back in Georgetown, and it was past 4:30. Panicking slightly, I asked the driver how much longer it would be until we got to Union Station. He did a double take, told me I was on the wrong bus, and promptly opened the doors, indicating the correct stop across the street.

By this point, I was basically hyperventilating. I'd done a fair bit of traveling on my own, but I'd never missed a form of scheduled transportation before. Never. And now my train was leaving in 20 minutes, and I was clean across the city. By 4:35, the correct Circulator had yet to appear, and in desperation I started to ask a nearby cab driver to take me to the station. He didn't take cards, however, and as I only had about eight dollars in cash, there was no way he could get me all the way across the city. Finally, at 4:40, the Union Station Circulator turned up. I leapt on, anxiously stood by the back door, and watched the cars go by. Slowly, I realized that I was on a city bus that had to get from Georgetown to Union Station in rush hour traffic, and make other stops along the way. Heart sinking, I knew I wasn't going to make my train. I found an empty seat, texted my parents, and fought back tears. 4:50 came and went, and I started to cry silently in spite of myself. Predictably, no one around me even spared me the slightest glance, even though the bus was full and it was pretty obvious I was upset. My parents called to reassure me, but mostly all I did was sob over the phone while my dad told me it was going to be all right, and he was proud of me for getting through the visa process. Eventually, I composed myself and prepared to get a ticket for the next train to Charlottesville.

The bus arrived at Union Station about half an hour after my scheduled train left. I trudged over the ticket counter and somewhat hollowly traded in my ticket and paid the difference. Then I bought some dinner and sat sadly by my gate, wanting nothing more than to be at home, curled up in bed. I read some of North and South, which I downloaded onto my iPod's Kindle app last night on a whim, and ate my pizza, but I was exhausted. I had expected to have a slow, leisurely afternoon and return home on time feeling accomplished and content. Instead, I was miserable.

Once I got on the train, though, I started feeling slightly better. I spoke with my mother on the phone, read, did some Sudoku puzzles, and slept. I got to Charlottesville and boarded a trolley without much trouble, and now I'm in my dorm room with last night's Parks and Rec to watch and a Georgetown Cupcake in my belly. And really, I can't say that I didn't have an eventful trip. I got done what I intended to do, at least, and my semester in France is just on the horizon. I had an experience in adulthood today, and while it wasn't in the least pleasant, it was definitely informative. Here's to better times ahead, hopefully with fewer wrong buses and many more cupcakes.

Long Overdue Update

So I've been pretty much AWOL here as of late. Eighteen credits, study abroad preparations, and illness have all taken their toll on me, and I've had basically the worst November of my life. Thanksgiving can't come soon enough. Right now I'm feeling very anxious because I haven't yet found an apartment in France, even though I've written email after email to landlords and building administrators. In fact, I have to go right back to flat-hunting as soon as I've finished this blog post. When you take into account the five exams I have to prepare for, the fifteen-page paper I have to write, and the packing I have to finish before I leave, it's safe to say that the worst of the stress is yet to come. Sigh.

In the meantime, I thought I would share with you some of the few things that are making me happy these days. First, the second trailer for The Hunger Games came out a week ago, and it looks amazing. I've watched it more times than I care to admit, and I'm not even a huge fan of The Hunger Games. However, I think most of my problems with the books were stylistic; Suzanne Collins has a background in television writing, which I think is very apparent in her prose. This can make for a sometimes clunky narrative, and considering Katniss is not the most accessible protagonist in literature, the books have their fair share of odd or cringeworthy moments. Having seen the trailer, though, I will cautiously say that most of my issues with the books will not be a problem for the film. Jennifer Lawrence is a fine actress, and she might help me warm up to Katniss a bit more, get me to understand her motivations. Josh Hutcherson looks to be in top form as Peeta, which makes me incredibly excited; Peeta is my favorite character, and while I never doubted Josh's abilities as an actor, I'm thrilled to see that he is almost exactly like the Peeta in my head. Rue, Prim, and Effie look just like they should. And Lenny Kravitz really does seem to be a spectacular choice for Cinna; it was an odd bit of casting at first, but having seen him in action, he conveys precisely that sense of calm and understanding I liked so much in the book. Here is the trailer, so you can see for yourself:


The Brave trailer was released last Wednesday. I'm not as impressed with this one as I was with the last, but I still am confident it will be a great movie. With a no-nonsense, butt-kicking, redheaded Scottish princess as its protagonist, how could it not be? The trailer is below; I am in constant awe of Merida's hair, especially considering how hard hair is to animate. Just look at those glorious ginger locks and try not to be amazed:


And as always, I'm incredibly thankful for my family and friends. My parents have been keeping me sane, and my friends have stopped me from getting too overwhelmed. Special shout-outs go to Pooja, who brought me food this weekend when I didn't feel up to leaving my room (horrendously bad cold at least), Sarah, who invited me home with her for Thanksgiving and continues to be a great prayer partner, Matt and Andi, who have proven to be excellent Avatar-watching companions, and Jackie, who is a steadfast Skyper and even better friend. Hopefully the next time I update, I'll be talking about the fun I had with all of them instead of the stress relief.

Well, back to looking for apartments and packing for the next few days.

Twenty-One

Well, I am now twenty-one, and I have consumed my first drink. Sara and I headed out to Harris Teeter this afternoon, where after much deliberation I picked out some Korbel Sweet Cuvee, a not-champagne from California (as a Californian, I figured it was an appropriate choice). It was really cheap and 11% alcohol, so it probably wasn't very good, but since I didn't really have anything to compare it to, I had to judge it on its own merits. I did enjoy showing the cashier my ID at the check-out line, although I look about sixteen in my driver's license picture. Hells yeah, I'm of age!

Many of my closest UVa friends came by my room tonight for a little get-together; Sarah gave me a wine glass, Pooja brought birthday cake, Sara gave me a card, and everyone else brought their lovely selves. We started the evening off with sparkling cider, since it's non-alcoholic and something I know I like, and then I opened the bubbly around 10. My more experienced friends said the champagne was actually quite good for being as cheap as it was, but I'm not sure if I liked it yet. I've never cared for the way alcohol smells, and the taste was pretty strange, too; I ended up pretty much drowning my champagne in orange juice and sipping it very slowly. I finished it over the course of an hour, partly because I also had birthday cake and friends were trickling in and out, so I had hostess duties to attend to. Consequently, I don't think I felt much when I was drinking, not even a little buzz. Honestly, I think alcohol consumption is way overrated. There's still about half a bottle of champagne to consume, and I'm not sure I'll have the rest. Still, the party was nice, especially because apart from Pav Lunch and the excursion to Barracks the rest of my day was pretty terrible (scholarship rejection, econ test, and a politics class I wasn't prepared for, among other things). Ah well. Hopefully I have plenty more birthdays to look forward to!

Entertainment 2011 for October forthcoming. Time to get some religious studies homework done!

Under the Weather

Or, the past five days in GIFs:

Saturday:
Blue Hole trip


Avatar marathon with Matt and Andi


Sunday:
Wake up

By which I mean that I was miserably sick, so I felt like I was being punched in the face. Being punched in the face by Henry Green, the world's most adorable baby, is probably considerably more enjoyable than waking up with a terrible cold (and possible low-grade fever), but I do not have a more relevant GIF.

Skype conversation with Jackie


Monday:
OMG, I actually have to go to class because I can't afford to miss it


Tuesday:
AHH so much to do


Wednesday:
Actually, I might have this thing under control. Well, I still have two papers to write before Monday, but at least my cold is (mostly) gone.


I probably won't surface again until my papers are done, so I hope you enjoyed this little update!

You Know, Just Blogging During a Hurricane

Or at least what Charlottesville is getting of it. Irene's not very powerful anymore, but it's still a very large system, and the outer bands are passing over central Virginia while the eye is by northern North Carolina. What this means for UVa is that it's windy and rainy. Not very exciting for my first hurricane, to be honest.

Safari, my default browser, has been withholding my blog from me for the past week, which is why I haven't been updating. I just figured out that can still access my blog on Firefox, hence my being able to post this now. However, I get the impression that this will be a temporary fix. Hopefully I can keep this going for the time being.

The first week of classes is now over. I really like French, which so far seems to be the complete opposite of last semester's nightmare. My politics seminar will probably generate a lot of interesting discussion, although the readings are probably going to be dense and difficult to get through. I'm also taking History of Christianity I (great so far), United States Society and Politics from 1945-1990 (not as cool as the name would suggest, but I have several friends in the class), Microeconomics (huge lecture, not a good subject for me, but a prerequisite for the public policy program), and Applied Calculus I (do not want; unfortunately another prerequisite).

Expect another update tonight, but for right now I'm working on homework and enjoying the John Adams miniseries in the lounge. I shall leave you with a couple of UVa-centric anecdotes:

Seen on a temporary construction wall by Newcomb Hall: "WWJD (What would Jefferson do?)." The scribbled response underneath: "Sally Hemmings" [sic] (Her name is actually spelled "Hemings.") I'll admit it, I laughed.

Last night was the Tom Deluca hypnotist show. At one point, he made the participants believe there was music coming from their shoes (just go with it). He asked one girl who she was listening to. Her answer: "Lou Reed, he's so poetic." Tom Deluca: "This is why I love coming to UVa."

Days Like This Make Me Wish I Was a Waterbender

So instead of being miserable in my own sweat, I could use it for the forces of awesome. At least there's only one more day of this heat wave to get through.

Went to work in exercise shorts and a t-shirt, and then spent my afternoon playing with the kids. My apartment has no air conditioning, so right now I'm sitting in front of my computer in the lightest clothing possible, watching The Golden Compass. It's been ages since I've read the book (incidentally, the only one of the His Dark Materials trilogy I really enjoyed), but this adaptation feels quite clunky and overly-expository. Well, I shall see how it turns out.

Until tomorrow!

I Keep Falling Asleep At My Computer

and then waking up because even with my fan on, my room is so hot and sticky. I never quite realized heat could be so unendurable until I experienced 100 degrees with humidity in central Virginia. Oy vey. Oh, and no matter how warm it is outside, taking a cold shower is still really unpleasant, as I discovered this evening. So much for that brilliant solution. Can't wait until this heat wave passes through and I can go back to feeling superior about dealing with 110+ temperatures on a daily basis back home.

In other news, Pooja and I watched the last episode of The West Wing's first season when she was over for dinner today. I know what happens and I still get sweaty and anxious every time I watch it. On the other hand, the season two opener is some of the best television I've ever seen, so I'm really looking forward to showing her that.

Okay, heat or no heat, time for bed. Aida out, dudes and dudettes.

Serenity [SPOILERS]

Just finished watching Serenity, the feature film sequel to Joss Whedon's television series Firefly. I have some SPOILERY SPOILERY SPOILERY thoughts:

The Time Traveler's Wife, Part II [SPOILERS]

Well, I just finished reading The Time Traveler's Wife. It took me five days to read the first half, but I flew through the second half in the usual Aida way. Some people run marathons; I marathon books. Anyway, I still don't know what I think of it. I almost cried at the end, and yet at the same time I was so frustrated with the characters, especially Clare, that I couldn't really bring myself to feel more than I actually did. When I read about time travel, I vastly prefer Stable Time Loops, which just make so much sense. But this fatalistic attitude Henry and Clare had, that everything was predestined, annoyed the hell out of me. It was downright depressing to read at times. Things did get considerably more interesting once Alba came into the picture (and yes, I was right about Henry meeting another time traveler, although I never dreamed it would be his own daughter), I will grant Niffenegger that. I did care about what happened to her, and I was sad for Clare throughout her miscarriages (although adoption is not pretending, Clare). Maybe it's because I have a burning desire to have a family of my own someday (not anytime soon, mind you; 20 is waaay too young to be having children), but I'm immensely interested in family dynamics in fiction. I digress. My point is that I'm still not sure I liked it as a complete work, but I definitely liked bits and pieces.

Other notes behind the cut:

The Time Traveler's Wife, Part I [SPOILERS]

I'm roughly at the halfway point in my reading of The Time Traveler's Wife. Honestly, I'm still not sure if I like it, but this is me we're talking about; I only put down a book if I would rather spork my eyes out than read it, and sometimes not even then (I did, after all, read the Twilight books). The Time Traveler's Wife is definitely readable. Niffenegger's prose is solid, though there are a few passages that read oddly, especially the constant mentions of bands I've only heard of because I'm friends with Sara Morrow. The problem is that in certain places Niffenegger thinks she's writing poetry, and it doesn't work. I have nothing against nice lyrical prose from time to time. Niffenegger overdoes it.

I guess I would say that I am not disliking it, but I don't love it. Henry and Clare are rather bland, inoffensive protagonists. I don't really care about them like I ought to. I suppose it's because I'm still having misgivings about their love story. Clare spends her entire life saving herself for Henry, practically worshipping him - there's even a line early on to the tune of "she was looking at [Henry] as if [he] were her own personal God." Meanwhile, Henry gets to mess around with every girl he meets until he and Clare finally come across each other in his present. Maybe it's just because I loathe the A Man is Not a Virgin double standard, but that aspect of their relationship is not sitting right with me. There's also not much of a plot at this point, and while I still have half the novel to go, I'm wondering where exactly Niffenegger is going with this. So Henry has his time traveling problem, and Clare is his Penelope, waiting patiently for him to come back to her every time he inadvertently slips off. Since Henry can't control his time traveling, is apparently the only person who experiences this problem, and has been talking to doctors about it, I'm guessing he'll either meet another time traveler, find a cure, or both. I also don't know what the significance of various characters warning Clare about Henry is. Maybe she'll realize that as much as she thinks she's destined to be with Henry, end of story, there's more their situation than meets the eye? Yeah, I don't know. I'll admit I'm not a fan of the concept of soulmates or fate, although at the same time I believe in God and an underlying pattern to the universe, so... welcome to another Aida paradox, I guess. We'll see if Niffenegger can make me buy it. I'll post again after I've finished the book.