Adjusting

I felt absolutely wretched. Not because I've been sick— I'm actually feeling much better— I felt horrible because I couldn't remember any of my flatmates' names. I suppose it didn't help that I was feeling under the weather, but still I felt bad whenever they'd see me at Uni and yell, "Hey Vicky, sit here," or "You feeling any better, Vicky?"

So today I woke up determined to make it a good day. It was going to be productive, and I'd go out and make friends come hell or high water. Of course it was bound to be productive because I had orientation from 10:00 to 4:30, but even then I was able to entertain myself.

During the seminar for the Career Development Centre, the branding kept distracting me because it put emphasis on the first letter of each word. CDC is not an initialism that puts me at ease. No, I started looking around for someone that resembled Dustin Hoffman, telling me to remain calm.

Despite this, another speaker got a chuckle from me. Believe it or not, it was the Champlain Service rep that made me wonder if I heard what I thought I had heard. For example, she apologized for not having any Jedi priests on campus if we were of that faith. For a second I zoned out until I heard her talking about pub crawls. Pub crawls!

After that very entertaining session, I went to the Atrium for a bite to eat. They were having a freebie day where a bunch of businesses came out for the freshers. Freshers refers to first year students. I didn't know this yesterday and found myself with a group of kids in a basement-like club that had sticky floors, listening to a student rep's spiel on how to go out and party.

Maybe I'm getting older, but a foam party just doesn't do it for me anymore. Sure I'll go grab a drink (or four), but I'm not going to grind on the dance floor with kids twelve years younger than me. I think it might actually be illegal.

So, where was I?

Right!

It was freebie day today where I was given bags of free stuff. The staples of these bags— candy, coupons, and condoms. If you're a parent, consider yourself warned.

In my humble opinion, poster sales are one of the best ways to relieve students of their money.
Tip: Newspaper cutouts are cheaper and cooler. 

So, I got around to ordering some chicken nuggets and sitting down in the little cafeteria they have there. I met another student and struck up a conversation with her. Ellie's really cool. I thought it was hilarious when she admitted quietly that she's a mature student. So I did what I usually do—I rolled my eyes, asked her age, then informed her that I was older. And look—still cool. 

I love that I'm older. (Thirty if you were wondering.) I don't feel like I'm trying so hard to get people to like me. I've already accepted that there are people that just can't handle my awesomeness.


After lunch I had to dash to another seminar. I'll be honest with you, I may walk with confidence, my head held high and some pep in my step, but in my head I'm screaming, "Where the hell am I? I don't think I'm where I'm supposed to be."

I finally found my way to what was possibly the longest line, or queue as they call it, ever formed. And all to get my ID. My ID that will get me discounts, so you can bet your sweet patootie I stood in queue. 

While I was there I met Elle, who actually jumped the queue. (Not to be confused with the Ellie I met earlier.) I'm glad I told her to stay because Elle was pretty cool too. Elle's actually short for Louisiana; she's named after a Tom Petty song which is awesome. I asked her about her piercings and tats since I'm thinking about getting more work done. Now I'm not sure, since she told me how much to expect to pay. I think I'll wait to get back to the States.

When I got to the front of the line, the lady behind the computer informed me that I was in the wrong queue and that I shouldn't have had to wait so long. I'm on the fence on how I feel about that. Yes, I could have been somewhere else, but then I wouldn't have talked with Elle and the Canadian couple behind me. By the way, they told me they sometimes speak Franglish there.

On my way home a man got on the bus with his dog. It was a border collie, and it growled at this little old lady to where she felt so uncomfortable that she got up to stand elsewhere. A few stops later another man got on the bus with his dog. She was a tiny Staffordshire Bull Terrier. (Thank you, Wikipedia.) I kid you not, I was waiting for this little dog to throw down with the disgruntled collie.

Fortunately, that didn't happen. I say that, not only because dog fights are not cool, but because I was in the immediate area. The man with the cute Staffy sat facing me, his dog occasionally sniffing my Converse.

The man was very outgoing, talking to people around me. Then he faced me and asked in a very thick Scottish brogue if I was settling in nicely. It took everything in me not to look behind me to see if he was talking to somebody else.

I tilted my head to the side and asked him what he meant.

He told me that he'd seen me walking around and then started naming streets that I wasn't too sure of. (I typically go by landmarks not streets.) He also told me that he lived in the neighborhood and that Union Street, where I live, is part of it.

I started feeling a little more comfortable and told him that I'd been running back and forth to the nearby Tesco. He then told me about Sainsbury's which is another supermarket. Apparently it was a five minute walk away and he told me he'd show it to me when we got off on our stop.

Now, those that know me know that I've taken a women's self-defense course. So when this bulky, tattooed man offered to show me a store that I'd never heard about that was supposedly close by, my guard went up.

The bus ride was long and we started talking more. He asked where I'm from, and I told him Texas. He then joked that I probably wasn't a vegetarian to which I told him I wasn't and that I quite enjoyed steak. I told him that we have longhorns there that look similar to their cows. (Over here they pronounce it "coo".) He laughed and told me yes, they're bearded and ginger.

So we got off on our stop and he pointed out the way. He introduced himself as Archie and his little companion as Nell. Very friendly man and an adorable little dog.

After going up to my flat, I donned warmer clothes for my trek to the supermarket. It was ten times better than the Tesco around the corner. Only, they charge a pound to use a shopping cart! (You get it back, but still.) So yeah, I was lugging around a hand-held basket that didn't cost a pence.

I had decided today to cook. It will save me money in the long run, and I haven't had any luck finding prepared food that I like here. So at the market I bought a pot, pan, kitchen staples like salt and pepper, cutting sheets, a splendid knife, and Tupperware.

Throughout the cooking process, my flatmates wandered in and out, and I made it a point to learn each of their names again.

They're all so nice, asking if I was feeling better. We have a bartering system worked out and I think/hope it will all be kosher. My Spanish flatmate, Lorena, actually wanted to pay me because I'm going to allow her to use my cookware. I figured a fiver wasn't too much to ask; I did spend more than I wanted to at the store. But my belly is full and I'm content.

I went out today to meet new people and carve out a little niche for myself.

I'm here.

Also, Mom, I know you wanted pics of my room when we talked, so here they are. 

My bed, the pair of comfy slippers I bought, my messy work space, and my wardrobe.