September 09, 2009

The Dam Flights

You know what happens to you when you move to a foreign country? You start looking into flights to meet up with friends in some American city and you have to spend hours on Expedia examining the flight times, connection cities, connection airports, airline combinations and all other manner of minutia.

Why? Well, to avoid 27 hour flight durations from Manchester to Vegas. To avoid connections that fly into London Heathrow and out of London Gatwick without actually telling you that. To avoid connections in the US with just under an hour to make the flight, when you have to collect luggage, clear customs, and re-clear security in that time. Or to avoid spending 8 hours in the airport in Chicago. I've done that once this year...I will not do it again.

So we didn't book the cheapest flight. Nor did we book the flight that connected in the UK as we SWORE we always would after our experience with the flights from hell in July, because of the previously mentioned Heathrow and Gatwick are like 50 miles apart, how can we make that connection in 2 hours? problem. We booked on an airline I won't mention connecting in a city I won't mention because I don't want the horror stories pouring in after spending 2 hours booking the damn thing.

But it isn't Chicago. Sorry Chicago, I love you, but I'm afraid of your airport. Don't feel bad, I'm afraid of Newark too.

Still, it's done, and I get to go to one of my best friend's weddings, and that makes it all worth it.

Mostly.

So mused Kerry at 11:48 PM | Comments (2)

August 28, 2009

Contrasts

You know what will really screw with your head? Spending a few hours working in a charity shop trying to raise money to eradicate world poverty, and then coming home and researching how much local wedding venues cost.

Sure, you get some perspective, but you also feel a strange desire to just get married in the register's office and donate the thousands of pounds to something a bit more worthwhile, you know?

So mused Kerry at 04:07 PM | Comments (4)

August 06, 2009

Life is Not Whatnot...

No!

I will admit, when Michael Jackson died, I watched all the hoopla, and saw how invested people were in it, and understood it was a big deal and a big story. It just wasn't really a big deal to me. I was never a massive fan. When I was a kid, when he was massively popular, I pretty much just listened to the oldies station my parents listened to. Basically, I was too big of a dork to be a real Michael Jackson fan.

No one is too big a dork to be a John Hughes fan. In fact, many would argue that dorks were his target market. And I am a fan, and I do own quite a few of his movies, and I may in fact have one of them loaded on my iPod for when I get bored on airplanes. Ok two of them.

Fine, THREE! Three John Hughes movies taking up valuable hard drive space because what would I do with a two hour delay other than watch Sixteen Candles. Again.

And while I'm fairly certain he won't be having a funeral that costs L.A. $3 million, it still feels like a big deal to me.

So mused Kerry at 10:09 PM | Comments (1)

August 05, 2009

Tunage

I can now say with some certainty that I have officially lived outside of the US for a really long time. What makes me willing to apply some level of certainty to such a vague and random statement?

iTunes.

I have a US account on iTunes, because often my lovely friends and family give me iTunes giftcards. Yay lovely friends and family! Plus, at 99 cents, US iTunes is cheaper than the British version, even with the recent reduction in price from 99 to 79 pence.

So, US iTunes. Yay all around. Until today.

I decided I wanted to buy an album, so I went on iTunes and it isn't there. A few tunes from the artist exist, but obviously the album hasn't been released in the US. (Little Boots, if you're interested.)

This got me looking at US iTunes a little more closely and realizing just how massively different American music tastes are to British tastes. I mean, let's look at a few examples from the top 10 songs lists today, shall we?

American:

~ Has the Kings of Leon song Use Somebody just come out over there, or do you guys just really like it? Because it's been out forever here, so number 3 seems a bit generous.

~ Who in the hell is Cobra Starship?

~ Does anyone else find Taylor Swift a little too wholesome for her own good? Or find it amusing that no one here in Britain seems to realize that she's a country act?

~ Who exactly is to blame for Pitbull? Because he's in our top 10 too and he's rubbish.

British:

~ Ok, I've never heard of Cobra Starship. Have any of you heard of Tinchy Stryder?

~ Or Mr. Hudson?

~ Or La Roux?

~ How about JLS?

~ Any songs in your top 10 contain the line "I'm infected by the sound?"

~ I know you've heard of Lady GaGa, but is Paparazzi as big a hit there as it is here? Because I don't think it's her best work.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still sticking with US iTunes, but I think I may need to set up a British account as well, just for some random purchases not available in the US.

So mused Kerry at 09:56 PM | Comments (2)

August 03, 2009

Getting Around

I have a habit of talking to myself. Not constantly, not usually in public, and not in a crazy way. I mean, it's not like I'm expecting anyone to answer me. Other than myself of course.

I just find I have an easier time working through a thought process if I actually verbalize it. It's the same with trying to memorize things...I stand a better chance if I say them out loud. So before my driving test I spent a lot of time in coffee shops around town quietly reciting the 5 kinds of pedestrian crossings or the speed limit for various types of vehicles on a non-divided road. So, possibly annoying, but not crazy.

I'll also talk to myself in situations where I'm nervous, and this has come up most often lately when I'm driving. The roads here are narrow. Either they are roads in town which aren't that wide to begin with and become far too narrow when they are lined with parked cars on either side and buses trying to get down them, or they are country roads that are just wide enough to begin with and get too narrow in the summer when the surrounding foliage is overgrown. The roads are just narrow.

This has been the hardest thing about learning to drive here. Not the roundabouts or driving on the wrong side of the road, but figuring out where the edge of my car really is and believing that yes, there is room for me and that truck to go past each other and no, he isn't going to hit me. It's a hard process, and I'll admit, I'm still not nearly there.

So, when I go out driving by myself, I spend a decent amount of time saying things like "it's ok" or "you have plenty of room" or "that car ahead of you fit, so you'll fit too." I also find myself telling myself to "slow down" or "calm down" or "take it easy." And, when pulling into parking lots (which I was bad with even in the States), I'll often tell myself not to hit the surrounding cars.

Which is how last week, over the course of a day, I had to tell myself not once but twice, "don't hit that Bentley." And it's not just that I really thought I was going to hit the Bentley so I said it twice, I came across two different Bentleys in two different parking lots. One of them at the dump. I'll admit, I've never lived in a town where this would have been a viable concern before, but at least it makes sure I maintain concentration while trying to park.

So mused Kerry at 03:39 PM | Comments (2)

July 30, 2009

Onward

Sometimes when you're feeling a bit depressed, you just want to call up a parent and have them say something along the lines of "Aww...it's ok honey, everything is going to be fine, just you wait and see." In terms of my job search, that's kind of what I've been looking for and pretty much what I've gotten. With some helpful advice thrown in of course, but mostly a good dose of reassurance.

Then again, sometimes you don't need reassurance or a sympathetic ear. Sometimes what you need is a metaphorical kick in the ass to get you moving in the direction that, let's face it, you probably know you should be moving in anyway. And when that's what I need, I call my mom.

It's not that my dad isn't a practical person, or that he isn't helpful, or that he doesn't have piles of life experience (he is old enough to be my dad after all). It's more that...I'm his little girl. And he wants me to be happy, and he wants to give me reassurance, and he wants everything to be ok. And I love that about him. So if I call him with a general "I'm feeling down" call, he'll chat with me and do his best to make me feel better. Now if I call him with a specific problem, he will definitely jump right into solving it just like any good dad should. But otherwise, he can be what my mom would call a "tender heart."

And when my mom calls someone a tender heart, she's not exactly being complementary. It's not that she's a bad person or a mean person, she's just...not a terribly sentimental person. It's not that she doesn't understand having emotions, but she doesn't understand letting them get the better of you. She's too practical for that, and figures if something is wrong you should just get out and do something about it. More of a stereotypically male response actually, but there you have it.

So when I was on the phone with my mom the other day and said I was feeling a bit lonely and a bit down, there was no "aw honey, it'll get better." Instead the response was "is there a library in your town?" Um...yes, there is. "They always need volunteers. Go volunteer. It'll get you out of the house. Or maybe a thrift store?" Well, yes, there are several of those in town. "Good. Go check them out and pick one and let me know next week where you're working."

Straight forward, to the point, no coddling, kick in the ass. To be fair, this is a woman whose husband died less than a year ago, so perhaps she's a little less than pleased to here about how lonely I feel. But still, it's something I've known I should do for a long time, and which I've thought about doing, but have been putting off because I'm lazy and scared. And my mom knows that I can be skittish of people and lazy when it suits me, so she didn't give me a chance to be.

She made clear that there was a solution to my problem within my control, so I needed to quit my bitching and go out and do something about it. Which is something Ian, my dad, and my friends are all less likely to say because they're worried about my feelings. And I appreciate that so much, but sometimes...just sometimes...I also appreciate the kick in the ass.

So mused Kerry at 04:28 PM | Comments (2)

July 28, 2009

Beat It

When we came to look around this house, the landlord hadn't quite finished working on it yet. There were still some floors to be put down, some handrails to be hung up, and a kitchen to be entirely cleaned out of workman's dust and crap. Of course, he never did clean out the kitchen, even though we called him twice about it before we moved in...but that's another rant. Anyway, because the place wasn't quite done when we saw it, we weren't entirely sure what was going to be included and what wasn't.

And what we found was...confusing. I mean, each room had a light bulb hanging from the ceiling. In most cases, the cover that goes over the wires where the thing attaches to the ceiling (yep, us engineers and our technical terms) weren't even attached, meaning it was a bare bulb and exposed wires. Which wouldn't have been so bad except the ceilings are like 10 feet high, so we had to get a ladder in to screw on those covers, plus spend a fortune on lampshades.

But ok, it's a rental. You're going minimalist and don't want to spend your money on lampshades. Not even the £2 paper sphere ones that I've had in every rental place I've lived in here. You wanna be cheap? Fine. I hate those paper things anyway, and not having them gave me an excuse to buy lampshades I actually kind of like.

But the minimalist attitude presented by the lack of lampshades was contradicted by the fact that there was art on the walls. You won't buy a few £2 lampshades but you put up what looks like a very heavy, and very expensive mirror above the fireplace? I mean, it's lovely, and I love it, but...huh?

And then there are the rugs. Oh the rugs. See, the house has wall to wall carpet. Cheap stuff that it still fucking shedding even though we've lived here for 10 months and I've vacuumed a gazillion times. And yet in the living room and the hallways our landlord, who left exposed wiring hanging from the ceiling, put down a few area rugs.

So, yay! Extra floor coverage right? Except not so much. Because the rug he put in the front hallway? The hallway that you have to walk through to get in and out of the house and between the first and second floor? One of the most high traffic areas of the house? It's one of those fluffy, puff-ball hand made things which can't be vacuumed.

I will say again for emphasis: Can't be vacuumed.

Which means, it has to be beaten. And it's not even like it's just something you could ignore, because it's in the entry hall, and it's puffy so it collects everything, and after a couple of weeks it just looks like absolute crap. Honestly? It looks like crap before that, but it's a pain in the ass so you ignore it as long as I can. But you can't vacuum it, so eventually it makes you crazy and you take it out back and beat it clean.

You know who I want to beat? My landlord for putting a rug that you can't vacuum in the entryway in a rental property. And also Ian a little, for insisting the hallway looks too empty without it so we should keep it.

But I can't, so instead I'll just go beat the damn rug. Again.

So mused Kerry at 02:27 PM | Comments (4)