This is me, being just too american

Joey was kind enough to read over my essay for biology of aging. This has resulted in her siting on my bed, laughing at my computer screen exclaiming, "It's just so American!" and periodically singing the theme song to the OC. After all the progress I have made not sounding like a foreign ninny in conversation, apparently none of this has carried over into my writing. I am doomed.

Things I like

I realize this blog has gotten really whiney due to impending deadlines and illness. I would like to think I am a positive person, and weather or not that is delusional, I have decided to cheer things up a bit. I made a list of 10 simple things that make me happy for no reason.

These are:

1.     Tea

2.     Stickers

3.     Rain storms in the summer

4.     Tequila

5.      Flannel

6.      Ironing

7.     The word boogers

8.    Dryer lint

9.     Peanut butter

10. Kissing

Very tall (but hairy) buildings

It's raining, which should not surprise me at this point. I love the rain, how it makes everything so cozy, how I get to wear my super cool rain boots and how perhaps it will clean the outside of my windows. Dave really needed a hair cut but refused to go somewhere he would have to pay, so I figured, I can probably do this. I am still not sure why he let me cut his hair as I thoroughly explained that I had only ever cut curly hair and only owned safety scissors. Luckily, youtube has a video tutorial for everything and after watching several of these I felt confident enough to cut my son's hair (there were no videos about adult hair cuting). The hair cut went well (I was shocked), it was the clean up where I started to have problems. In an attempt to not go all the way down to the ground floor to shake out my now very hairy towels, I opened my window as far as it would go, which is not far due to safety reasons. I shoved the towel out the window and shook furiously. It wasn't till the next day that I realized all the hair I had shaken off the towel was now stuck to the outside of my windows. My spectacular view of London is now completely covered with Dave's hair. Creepy hairy London.

It is also much easier to be sick when it's raining, I don't feel as much that I should be outside being a real person.  I am perfectly content hibernating in my bed with a hot water bottle and all of my text books. My bed is a bit small for this many text books, and leaves me curled awkwardly in the corner to make room. I am still to ill to do much outside of bed, which is terribly frustrating when it is not raining. I am desperately ready to be a real person again, someone who can walk themselves to the market and not worry about passing out in front of the cereals.

This is me, fighting with organs.

I have been completely out of touch with the world for the past week or so as I have been undercover to research NHS care (which I believe sounds better then I was ill and stuck in hospital for the last week or so). I am still to ill to do very much but I have begun catching up on the important things, mostly eating food that does not taste like cardboard and watching being human. It is not time to catch up on revision. damn revision. My plan is to spend all of today memorizing the bones, joints and muscles of the lower limb, tomorrow I can finish accumulating my papers for aging course work and finalize my outline, then on Wednesday I can just dive into my cancer text book and learn everything. Oh god, this is overwhelming.

Things I have learned about the NHS

1. Because they see so many patients they are a bit over eager to diagnose based solely on symptoms and send you home.
2. You don't actually see the same doctor more then once, which means every 7 hours you have a new opinion and new diagnosis.
3. Day nurses are much nicer then night nurses.
4. Male nurses wear too much make up and will judge you based on the Pjs your friends were kind enough to drop off but which my not actually fit very well. 
5. DCU is essentially purgatory and they keep the lights on 24 hours so you can ponder what you have done to deserve such a punishment and perhaps upon realizing your sins, be admitted into a real ward. 
6. Bring your own cinnamon.

My friends were all lovely enough to sit with me for hours on end while i stared into space in my drugged state, and Tom was even kind enough to shuttle me to all my appointments and supply me with a constant supply of tea. Joey packed me a bag of all the essentials, including loo role (why she thought a hospital would not supply loo role i still don't know). Dave brought cinnamon which was surprisingly useful. Having visitors makes the experience significantly better, especially when they bring treats and resist the urge to fold you into your own bed. The upside to being in hospital is that my room was on the 8th floor overlooking the Themes with Big ben and parliament directly across. This view was absolutely incredible and my days consisted mostly of staring at it while listening to music, drinking tea and being pumped full of antibiotics. 

Peanut Butter Cookies

This wonderfully american cookie keeps me from getting homesick. I stress bake at Joey's flat periodically and leave them treats in exchange for use of the kitchen; partially because this keeps me from eating as much as I bake. I could not find a simple peanut butter cookie recipe so I made this one up, and it's pretty good if not a bit sweet.

50g Peanut butter (preferably chunky)
127g Sugar (It is best if you can do half granulated/half brown, but brown sugar is rather expensive so I usually don't)
1 Egg
127g Flour (add slowly until it resembles cookie dough)
1 pinch baking powder

Roll dough into balls and flatten with a fork to create that peanut butter crisscross pattern.
Bake at gas mark 6 for about 10  minutes, or until golden on the edges
Sometimes I add chocolate chips, or drizzle melted chocolate on top since british people don't believe it's a cookie until it has chocolate.

Sometimes we just have too much time on our hands.

Or are desperately avoiding the large pile of work on my desk...

Dragons.

It's a grey day in London (shocker) but it is finally getting warmer and I am ecstatic! I went out yesterday in just a sweater. Raj and I went down to celebrate Chinese new year and buy hoop earrings (I am a very important person, doing important things). It was so crowded that at one point we could not even cross the street, we just stood and tried not to be pushed backwards by the mass of people struggling down the street.  This was my first drinking in a pub in the middle of the day experience, which is shocking since it is what everybody does here all the time. I managed to only embarrass myself minimally, which I think is an accomplishment given the circumstances.

Raj turns 22

In honor of such a monumentous occasion I decided to bake a cake. Anyone who knows me understands what a terribly risky endeavor this can be. I was going for a sort of chocolate cheesecake in a crust-less pound cake. After a few tries and with careful supervision I created a cream cheese pound cake with dark chocolate chips, a chocolate ganache icing and more calories then I previously thought possible for a single cake.  My one mistake was in making an excess of ganache. I should have known, that in a house full of boys (OK, maybe just in a house full of Raj), an excess of melty chocolate could only lead to my being completely drenched in said chocolate. I did however, manage to get a fair amount on him as well as Joey who was unlucky enough to be in the kitchen. This was all resolved with a nice group bath, for which we had to heat water in the kettle, and shampoo.

More plans?

This was not the plan, and I did have a plan. I was to be graduated now, living in the city with people I loved working some silly job and applying to nursing schools and PHDs. Instead I am in a foreign city, struggling to keep up with course work and living alone. Coming here was the best decision I ever made, or allowed other to make for me, but it's draining at times. I am so blatantly American, and so incapable of communicating properly. Sometimes I think I could spend the rest of my life here, and sometimes I just want to come home. I miss American beds, and American showers. I miss knowing where the hell I am and not constantly afraid I wont find my way home.