I really like using these things:

They make me feel like I’m one of the Jetsons.

(That photo is from the AirBlades very own Wikipedia page. I’m not in the habit of taking pictures in public toilets)

My university course may be the saving grace to my Andy-less insanity. As soon as I stepped on campus today, I was given a free doughnut and then had a good lecture. Can’t really ask for more. My professor is intelligent. And his twinkly cuff-links aren’t as distracting as I thought they would be. We had a lecture then a debate on the similarities and differences between Darwinism and Freud’s theories on progression, suggestability, and counter-transference between psychotherapists practicing hypnotherapy and Cognitive-Behavioural therapy. It got me really excited about the upcoming academic year. I still think a lot of Psychology is total bunk, it being a man-made science and all, but it definitely seems to help people, and it’s application to social/cultural everything really fascinates me. It was sort of embarrassing today when I realised that all the material I drew on for my debate points I had learned in 2003, for my Psychology A-levels. This means I learned almost nothing from majoring in Psychology at BYU. My classes with John Okiishi were stellar, but aside from that, I kind of hated my major. It was mainly full of kids who’d been picked on in High School because (their words) they were “deep”, who thought they were psychic because they studied The Mind, and assumed they were smarter than most other people because they could see Meaning in Everything. Don’t even get me started on professors who grade your entire semester on a GROUP PROJECT or make you take exams in GROUPS. Try fighting with a group of self-confessed psychics, over whether to put B or A as an answer in a multiple choice exam.

Aside from my classes taught by the honorable John Okiishi (I wish my entire college career had been taught by him), my major was kind of a waste/bore. I loved being at BYU though. I love the campus, I really enjoyed working in the library and for the Counseling Centre, and I especially loved my classes in Russian Literature, Chinese, and Orchestra. I kind of turned myself into a parrot to get by with my major and I think it showed in my lecture this morning. All the studies I referenced in my notes were sort of dated.

Anyway, things are looking up slightly. Got a job, really enthusiastic about the next year of school, I’m going to get tickets to some British Film Festival events, visit a few museums next week, and I’m headed up to my parents this weekend for a Sunday Roast. Free food improves almost every life obstacle for me.

It’s been precisely four weeks since Andy left the UK. I haven’t died/gone insane/emotionally eaten myself into a glazed doughnut yet, so all in all, I’d say things are going alright. Ish. I’m coping at least.

I had an interview on Oxford Street today (I got the job!!!!!!!) Oxford Street’s a strange area. I can’t tell whether it’s full of tourists or just people who can afford to shop all day and not work. Almost all young-adulty stores are represented: UniQlo, H&M, Miss. Selfridges, Topshop’s Flagship store. Buh. The Flagship Topshop has three expansive floors full of clothing stock that seems to change on a weekly basis. Since I’ve been away from home, Topshop has changed pretty drastically. I know I’ve gone on about this before, but nowadays even the trendier chavs can be spotted walzing around like fat versions of Topshop Mannequins. It’s weird. Also, Topshop has morphed into a hot mess of overpriced fashion instead of fairly reasonably priced quality clothes. They don’t even really do sales anymore. Instead, they have an aisle called “BUY NOW OR REGRET IT LATER!” where they con idiots into buying last weeks stock for full price. Anyway, while waiting for my interview a few shops down, I watched the Topshop clones spill out of the store, clutching with their £35 t-shirts and £28 gladiator sandals (it’s not even Summer, you guys). I know it’s nice to look nice, everyone likes to look nice I guess, but I feel like waking up and having to freak out about which nine-layers coordinate well, and which accessories to drape over my appendages would just increase stress. I don’t really see the fun in it.

Back to what I was saying though: I got a job!

It’s in retail, which is kind of a step down for someone with a degree and experience working with legal documents (is that a snotty thing to say?), but considering London’s job market, I’ll take what I can get and be happy about it. I recently met a girl from ’round my area: Cambridge graduate, speaks five languages, and works as a Christmas Shelf Stocker and Elf in PoundLand for minimum wage…. Makes me feel a little less self-patronised by my position in ‘retail’. This was by far the worst time to relocate to a capital city with no job lined up.

Change of subject: I watched Happy-go-lucky last night and I couldn’t tell if I liked it or if it did my head in. I think my confusion had a lot to do with the characters and dialogue being quite realistic or at least relateable. I had a driving instructor with an earring and a host of complexes, and I also remember a girl in high school who shoved raw chicken fillets down her bra when she went out on the razzle. I’ll leave you to dwell on that lovely mental picture.

Photoshop actions are sick. Who seriously uses those.

You know what else is sick? Me drinking a can of 7Up for breakfast. I’m going to go and find some cereal.

Alright so no, my dad did not get a blog. But I had James Brown in my head when I woke up this morning and since Andy got a tumblr I thought I’d put my best foot forward on the trail of bad blog humour.

Andy’s currently in Franklin, working and the likes while all this dental school interview junk goes on. Franklin’s no thriving metropolis and it seems that needing more ways to spend time drove Andy to blogdom, haha. He’s been recording bits and bobs of songs that float through his head on garageband because all of our real recording stuff is in storage at the moment and because Tumblr is a good place to organise the snippets and a user-friendly way to share them, he signed up. I can’t write music for beans so I’m excited to see his stuff develop from sound-bytes into songs, even from the other side of the globe. You can see Andy’s tumblr here. Huzzah! I’m really into the EP he’s working on too. It’s sound.

In other news: we’re on Yahoo again.

I’m posting this for memories sake, because once again, it is not a flattering photo of me by any means. And I can’t even blame the photographer, Jessica since she takes great pictures. It just that it looks like I got surly, dropped a bowl on my head to cut myself a fringe, gained as much facial weight as possible and then slapped a grimy mitt over Andy’s dapper face especially for the shot. Andy is as good-looking as always though, I can revel in that at least.

I just got back from church. The ward is fairly mixed, the Bishop’s American (?!) and I’m somewhat of a racial minority it seems, or I was this week. The church is on Exhibition Road, right over the street from the V&A, Natural History and Science museums. Makes for a nice walk to church. The other week, since I’d just moved in, I turned up to the Hyde Park Singles Ward. As Josh predicted, I ran into Arthur and his girl Claire. That was pretty surreal. I have never seen a Provo Person outside of Utah County before. It’s a trivial thing perhaps, but it’s nice to sing the same hymns here as I did on the other side of the sea.

Why do American Hipsters drink Blue Ribbon? Is Blue Ribbon a working-class beer? Is it just another accessory one can purchase to prove one is skint, and doesn’t hail from the suburbs or is it really that cost-effectively tasty?

There’s really no way to say this without embarrassing myself: I love rap music, and I have to fight the urge to dance as poorly as a dad listening to Justin Timberlake when I hear it. I don’t have to fight very hard, but still.
As is the case with plenty of non-ghettoian white kids, my healthy sense of admiration for the genre basically means that I feel empowered by lyrics that have absolutely nothing to do with my life experiences. My life is sufficiently far removed from violent altercations with cops, bad drug trips, bloody turf wars, loose women, or jeans that cost a months wages but I still feel engaged by rap. Even as I drive an economic car around the suburbs, deliberate between one kind of apple or another in Tesco’s, and walk to school without getting mugged for my trainers. Ridiculous, really.

I just realised that the follow-up to my post on wanting to post better things was a post about Mantyhose.

Nicely done.

Apparently, it’s time for men to don tights, aka, mantyhose…

Here, for your visual pleasure, are the “Military Mantyhose”

As found by Dan.