England, 1 year on.
(Well, a little more than one year, actually.)

Elisabeth and I wanted to do this thing a while ago and analyze everything that?s transpired in the last year and how it?s changed us but as I?m feeling pretty melancholy this evening, now?s as good as ever.

It?s been a strange year, that?s for sure. Egham was a major let-down. Probably the biggest of my life. We were unaware of Britain?s different standard of living and the vague warnings that preceded our arrival did nothing to help us with regard to specifics and, once we had moved into our 1st house, the reality soon set in. Economic reality, that is. I don?t think anyone truly realizes the degree of monotonous poverty we lived in, those first few months and even now, the degree of debt we?ve built up is quite ridiculous. Even if we?d have had twice the amount that we?d brought over, we would have struggled. The simple fact is that one person cannot support two people in England. Hell, two people can barely support two people. While in Canada, living with your parents until you?re 25 carries a certain stigma, it?s expected over here; if not sensible. Things are damn expensive and living in such a posh area didn?t help.

I?m not going into too much detail about the rich assholes that permeated the area where we lived. Nor the pikey locals who, though poorer were just as exclusive and snobby in their own way. Royal Holloway is the country club of universities in Britain and was as exclusive as ever. If it weren?t for my classmates, many of whom are utterly fabulous people, it would have been a complete waste of a year. The closed-minded, inherently conservative nature of the college wasted my time and money and the sole fact that it made me a better writer (courtesy of someone who wasn?t, technically, a teacher there) is its only saving grace as a so-called academic institution.

That said, the good thing is that, while it?s tested Elisabeth and I, the love that we feel for one another has in no way lessened and has grown in ways I?d never imagined. It?s also made me value my friends and family back home more than I?ve shown. Those who have come to visit have made us happy and sad and homesick and made me realize what a great place Canada is. And for that I?m grateful.

God only knows what this year will bring. Hopefully more security and laughs. We?ve moved to an area that?s more our pace, style and, sadly, (Because these things are so 19th century) social and economic class and are starting to get on our feet. With school ending for me, I?ll be able to pull my weight and hopefully start to get us out of all the debt we?ve incurred. We?ve also started to make friends in the sense that we won?t have to keep on calling those people we get together with ?class-mates? or ?co-workers? and this will help. We?re also looking forward to more people visiting and, of course, traveling and having that mythological thing called a honeymoon sometime soon! Yes, all this sounds pessimistic, I suppose, but, having now lived through it, I wouldn?t have traded it in for anything (Except for Egham & Englefield Green ? that cesspool could be razed with napalm and all I would do is change the channel to something more interesting; say, Police Academy 4: Operation Miami Beach) as it?s made me a stronger person and affirmed the bond that Elisabeth and I made before we left.

-Stephen the melancholy blogger out!

Writing a dissertation doesn't change you except...

Why I love woking
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: A Grand Buffet song playing over and over in my head
Now, I don't want to appear to support illegal activities but it's refreshing to get the overpowering smell of hash as you leave your apartment. At least people are real over here.

It's also reassuring when you go into your local off license (liquor store) and are able to joke around with aother guy buying beer and when you ask the lady behind the desk how she's doing, she says "Can't wait 'till 10 o'clock and I go to the pub."

Yes, British folk acting like how I've heard British folk are supposed to act like - friendly, chatty, down to earth. I can't beleive we suffered in Englefield Green for as long as we did.

When cops are jerks
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: A plane flying over head
Okay, I admit that this hasn't been the best week for personal grooming. My hair's badly in need of a cut, my ratty shirt's got alot of holes in it and smells like cat pee and my cords are torn in several places and pretty thread-bare. I also shuffle alot more (1,2,3,4,5. 1,2,3,4,5.) but I was just on my way home from Sainsbury's with groceries (Bread, wine, a chocolate cake [Shh.. don't tell Elisabeth]) when I noticed a car following me. I turned around and sure enough it was the cops. I turned, they stopped. I resumed walking, they drove on, then parked a block up the street and watched me approach them & pass by. I hate that because whenever something like that happens, for some reason I can't walk like normal and today for some reason I affected a limp. uilty conscience I guess. Anyhow, they left me alone after I stopped to let a car full of a young family have priority getting out of their driveway.

I'd expect this kind of jerky behaviour in Egham but Woking? Sigh.

-Convict #78-55-40 out.

WWPD?*
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: The bathroom fan
*What Would Papillon Do?

Stop complaining about his dissertation on the blog and get to work. No mo' shenanigans. Your shenanigans will not be tolerated!

Public Transport Parade
Mood:  incredulous
Now Playing: Chumbwumba--"pictures of starving children sell records"
I took the 9:15 train from Woking to Weybridge. then the 9:30 from Weybridge to Egham. Then I walked to the bus termincal, where I caught the 10:04 bus to Slough (which has earned two National Titles: 1. The most boring place in Britian 2. The Armpit of England). I arrived in Slough to catch a bus I had no idea I had to take, which got me to the Wexham Hospital just in time for my 11:15 appointement. Despite the shabby building, the doctor was very competant and informed me that I have a permanent fungal infection in my ear, for which I must receive regular cleanings. They will be free if you must know. (That explains the shabby state of the building.)

And what is this mysterious cleaning you ask? Well, the doctor places an x-ray over your ear, and inserts a tiny vaccum into the ear and carefully sucks out all the little bits. For those of you who weren't aware, I ususally do my 24-7 with inflamed ear drums...but that's neither here nor there.

The good thing is, I only got to work at 3:30 today. But the bad news is I have to do it all again in 2 weeks. Perhaps I'll bring the camera and display the appaling scenery of Slough.

Putting My Foot Down
Mood:  rushed
Now Playing: the neighbor's TV below us
I will not disappear from this blog all together. I need to go to sleep now...having my ears cleaned tomorrow morning...

E.

What's black and white and has 5165 words?
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Elisabeth doing the dishes
My dissertation, silly. 51% done. I really, really wanted to make a joke about passing the 1/2 way line and leaving dissertation hell for dissertation purgatory but I think that I only get to enter that fantastic place once I've handed the mo-fo in and wait to see in the profs have the common sense to give me a big fat 'F.'

In celebration of this mile (mill?) stone, here's a totally random section of my non-proofread little freakazoid:

"...possibly, and even heavier hand saying ?I don?t know what I believe but this is what I?ve done,? the spectator is no longer being talked down to, being told to buy whatever snake oil is being offered and instead left to her own devices.

Specifically, Barker does this by incorporating a number of juxtapositions vis-a-vis what the humanist theatre would have: Poetry and metaphor instead of accessible meaning; psychological unreliability instead of recognizable human types or political stereotypes with value; complex syntax instead of naturalism or realism; moments instead of goals; non-therapeutic instead of..."

(Yeah, I know it's egocentric gloating, but whatever...)

PS- This word count thing is really getting to me. I feel like Papillon in solitary confinement. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And when I get to that magical number of 10,000 - 14,000, I'll fall over.

Burnout Factor 5
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: The music of Elisabeth preparing spicy potatoes...YUM!
The yob is out with his 'mate,' drinking beer and driving his remote control mini cooper around the parking lot. I can only assume the screaming will commence shortly.

Burnout factor 5 today - not much writing got done so that means that I don't get any wine tonight. Sucky. Instead I get to do schoolwork. Got to push out 1000 words before bed. I bet Papillon never had to deal with this shit.

Ah well, at least my lovely has taken pity on me and is cooking yummy, yummy potatoes and grilled cheese with egg, tomato & onion. If there's egg, tomato & onion in it, does it still count as grilled cheese? It's the answer to such existential questions as these that true dissertations should be written on, not flakey things like 'theatre,' where it's spelled 're' even though it sounds like its 'er.' I blame the French. They're so elitest.

Gotta go - The rosemary is rolling across the floor and the old James Bond fight music in being played by the BBC. God bless those wacky Brits.

Buh?
Mood:  spacey
Stephen here, 40% sane, losin? hair, goin? grey.

There must be some weird thing going on with me ? as my life becomes dedicated to craving yummy, yummy potatoes and writing about absolutely modern, offensive for the sake of being offensive & elitist things, I?m really getting into old movies. I totally bought into On Golden Pond (Well, it was a play, originally) and Papillon was totally cool. Steve McQueen is the baddest movie mo-fo since Charles Bronson in Once Upon a Time in the West. John, if you?re out there, the book is on my immediate reading list once this dissertation thingy?s gone the way of the dodo.

Otherwise, life goes on, wine makes it worth living and, come September 1st, I won?t be thinking about a single? damn? thing. (Scholastically that is) for, well, for forever if things go as planned

PS ? Just got around to seeing the end of Papillon and it S.U.C.K.E.D. Talk about a cop out ? the film was already 2.5 hours long and they couldn?t bother to wrap up? 5 more minutes would have sufficed! Now I really do have to read the book.