Do You Want To Know Something Else That's True?

Okay, so I’ve been staring at a blank screen for close to an hour now. Maybe I should think about writing something.

Last night, then. It began with a comical UNITAS dinner in a fairly small Chinese restaurant. The expression on the proprietor's face when we casually requested a table for fifteen was priceless. They eventually managed to squeeze us onto two tables. If nothing else happened this past year in America, i have discovered the joy of sesame chicken, so it hasn't been a total loss.

As far as I was concerned, that was probably going to be it for Friday; Rishi was on duty, and so couldn't leave the hall at all (he wasn't best pleased about missing the final Friday of the term). He's the one who normally organises these things, so I wasn't expecting anything to happen. Not that I minded too much, either, as Thursday's outing had turned out to be more depressing than enjoyable.

Having said all that, when Laura asked me if I wanted to go to the Carolina Coffee Shop with her, I didn't hesitate in saying yes. She was writing a feature on somebody for one of her courses, and he was performing at the Coffee Shop that night. I'm not exactly sure why she asked me, of all people, to go along with her, but I'm happy she did.

We spent an hour or two at the coffee shop (which, incidentally, doesn't sell coffee. It's all very confusing), talking about music, stalking, politics and other weird and wonderful subjects, before going on to her friends' doom room. They live in a triple-bed room, but there's only two of them there, so they turned the third bed into a bar. Seriously.

I'd just like to pause here and point out that I've now spent five hours writing this entry. It doesn't show, does it?

Anyway, it seems that there's a competition between Laura and her friend (I'm fairly sure her name was Nicky, but I'm so hopeless with names I can't say that with any certainty) about who is the most English. Even I was beaten into second place behind Laura, as both her parents are English, but I was given bonus points for having an authentic accent. It's good for something, i suppose.

After roughly an hour there, we all decamped to go to the "Moat Party" in the Greek area of the university. Yes, that's right, a frat party. You can pause for giggles as you try to imagine me at one of those things, if you like. I'll be over here. The idea behind the party is that they create a moat around several of the Greek houses and… actually I'm not sure if the reasoning gets more involved than that. I presume that they imagine that the combination of water and alcohol needs little explanation. Of course, as the weather had been rather miserable all day, the moat was sparsely populated, and looked more like a large children's paddling pool, but these things never quite work out in reality.

We didn't hang around too long (did I mention that it was a frat party?), instead choosing to go back to the hall and watch Office Space with Rishi and Shafaq. At 2am, naturally.

I'm going to miss this place, and the people. My main regret is that it took me so long to come out of my shell, and by then, it was already too late. Oh well.

currently playing: KLF - What Time Is Love?

End of Term

That was quick.

currently playing: R.E.M. - I Believe

Less Hyperbole, More Feeling

All I’ll say is that I knew that my knowledge of fairly obscure British bands would get me in trouble eventually.

Something I tend to forget is that, although the site has a regular audience of under ten, people who you'd least expect also come through here every now and then. So I shouldn't have been too surprised when Allison mentioned that she'd been reading the site. I apologise for not having been to the cinema for over two months; there just hasn't been anything I've considered worth watching. Hopefully that should change this weekend, as I'm going to try and see All the Real Girls and Better Luck Tomorrow (recommended by the normally-reliable Charlie Chu).

Re: the last entry: still have Michael Collins quotes lodged in my brain after ten years…

currently playing: The New Pornographers - Mass Romantic

For I Have Signed My Own Death Warrant

Oh dear.

currently playing: The Smiths - Bigmouth Strikes Again

The Resistance Grows

Kavita has joined me in the never-ending fight against the coming squirrel tyranny. We shall overcome!

currently playing: Nothing at the moment, because it’s almost 1am, and I don’t want to keep people awake by having my music on. I suppose I could have used my headphones, but that would be far too obvious. While I’m here — who decided to do tonight’s stunt casting in The West Wing? That was someone you didn’t expect to see…

Wrapped In The Flag

Stupid thoughts that cross my mind, number #134 in a series of ∞: isn’t it strange that the Patron Saint of England is famed, for, well, killing things? Not exactly saintly, is it?

I had a whole theme ready for today's entry, but I'm feeling a bit unwell, so you'll just have to go without. Sorry about that.

Against all expectations, I did have a good time last night, so things aren't all bad.

Okay, according to the BBC, he didn't actually kill a dragon. Somebody lied to us when we were growing up, you know...

currently playing: The Clash - One Emotion

Hating Computers

Today’s entry was quite long. It had a reasonably amusing fictitious conversation with a supermarket clerk, various shots at how I seem to be slipping into American far too much, ending with a shouting match between myself and the iBook’s dictionary over the spelling of ‘centre’, a filler paragraph about 24, and some more gubbins about how the day went. That was followed by some links to the current situation, with a wisecrack about the US military’s plan to get Seoul razed to the ground, and the news that there’s children in Camp X-Ray. I finished by mentioning that I was going out tonight, which could be fun, or could leave me wanting to jump out of the window again. The track playing was a fine tune by Charlie’s Angels by the name of “It’s Never Gonna Happen To Me”, in the pleasing faded gray Verdana font.

And then of course, the Internet swallowed the entry. NetNewsWire didn't like that, and so crashed, obliterating my entry (which yes, I had saved as a draft, but NNW seemed to forget about that bit). Did I mention that I hate computers? I did? Excellent. Keep it in mind.

Apologies, then, for this shoddy entry. The original was far better, I promise you. Perhaps it's better this way; now that you know that another copy of today's entry existed in this universe for a brief period of time, you can imagine that to be the perfect web post, full of erudite charm and wit. And there's no chance of you seeing the real thing and having your hopes dashed, either. Dream on, my young heroes, and (At this point, the writer been sedated for his own good. We would like to apologise for his behaviour. And believe us, having seen the original version, we can safely say you're not missing much — Ed.)

currently playing: PJ Harvey - Good Fortune

Where's The Bald German?

I think my favourite part has to be on page 7:

“That’s the way everything in life happens. If you’re a person known to be around Jesus, you can go and do anything. And that’s who you guys are. When you leave here, you’re not only going to know the value of Jesus, you’re going to know the people who rule the world. It’s about vision. ‘Get your vision straight, then relate.’ Talk to the people who rule the world, and help them obey. Obey Him. If I obey Him myself, I help others do the same. You know why? Because I become a warning. We become a warning. We warn everybody that the future king is coming. Not just of this country or that, but of the world.” Then he pointed at the map, toward the Khan’s vast, reclaimable empire.

It’d be funny if they weren’t serious…

currently playing: The Flaming Lips - Raining Babies

Gaze Upon My Playlist And Despair

I have rediscovered The Cure. Bwahahaha. And I’m checking up on hermit tailors.

Typical. I go away for a few days, and return to discover that my favourite comic has been cancelled. On the other hand, considering that Marvel would have been justified cancelling it at #35, I suppose I should be glad that they stuck with it for so long. Priest seems to be taking the death notice in his stride, focussing his attention onto the new CREW book, which looks quite interesting. While it's a sad moment, no-one thought that a comic starring Panther (and written by Priest, of all people) would go beyond twelve issues. Yet it managed to last six years. So, let's not feel too sad about its untimely demise.

Today entry is a bit later than usual. This is due to me taking hours to fill out the UNITAS survey. It's for the scrapbook that is produced each year by the residents of the floor. It's supposed to be a record of who was there, and what happened. To help, everybody was given a huge questionnaire to fill in. By huge, I mean that there were 40 categories, and for each category you had to choose both a female and a male member of the floor. Exhausting. But thankfully anonymous.

In other news, I've worked out how to get five hours of battery power from my iBook. Which is quite nice. The trick is to turn the brightness of the LCD all the way down, as this eats much of the power (yes, if I wasn't thick, I would have thought of this before — obviously the LCD is a large drain).

The only thing worse than a nightmare is a dream where everything seems to be going right. Then you wake up, and the slow realisation creeps over you. It never happened.

I'm here all week. Try the tuna...

currently playing: The Cure - Boys Don’t Cry

Entering Alligator River

At two in the morning, those three words don’t inspire confidence. Especially when you’re convinced that you made a wrong turning a few miles back. However, we managed to make it to the beach house without being savaged by alligators, bears, or deer. And we only got stopped by the police once (this was a friendlier officer, in case you’re some sort of freak who reads entries backwards. You should probably seek help).

The weekend alternated between the standard "I'm having a good time here" and the sadly usual "Oh God, I'm a social misfit — I should probably just throw myself off the top of the building and do everybody a favour." This is why I'm so much fun to be around, people. Smiles and existential crises, all for $37.

We arrived in two groups; nine of us on Thursday night, and the French contingent of five arriving late on Friday. It turns out that there's not a lot to do in the Outer Banks. But! But! They do have the largest lighthouse in America. We visited that on Friday, to discover that a) tickets to climb the building were $4, and more importantly b) the lighthouse had only reopening yesterday after a year of renovations, so all the tickets had sold out. Rishi was undaunted by this, and sweet-talked one of the wardens into letting us in for free ("We're international students from Chapel Hill. We've come all this way just to see the lighthouse" and so on).

For those reading at home: yes, I did climb up the lighthouse. All 208 feet. None of the others knew I was scared of heights, but soon found out as I started to fall apart. They were very supportive and helpful, and so I managed to take this picture:

That was probably the high point of the weekend, actually. That was followed by the extremely uncomfortable part of the day where the girls cooked the evening meal (I helped wash up, set the table, and take things out of the oven, but I felt very guilty).

And then the French people came. Which was the signal for me to retreat back into the shell; Sona and I were the only two there who didn't speak multiple languages, so we were left out of a lot of the conversation (me moreso, due to the normal situation) until later on in the night, when Rishi and Shafaq took pity on us. Shafaq got quite drunk that night, and treated us to some authentic Bhangra dancing. Yes, I know how that sounds, but it was amazing to actually see somebody do it in person

Saturday was a very short day. Due to people not going to sleep until about 5/6am, we didn't get out of the house until three in the afternoon. At this point I suppose I should mention something about the weather. It's only traditional of course. Three words: English Bank Holiday.

We're now going to take a break while I get control of my breathing back. And, as I've already written the final paragraph, I'd just like to point out that the first item cannot be emphasised enough. Oh, have a look at the house that we stayed in.

Anyway, yes, the weather. That's what the English talk about, when we're not enslaving half of the known world (yes, just to add the weekend's woes — English White Guilt. Did I mention that I'm a hopeless case? I did? Good. So, we'll move on then?). It started out fairly sunny, but as soon as stepped onto the beach, the sun went away, and the rest of the trip was spent under a gray cloud. Of course, as soon as we left, the sun came out again.

Rishi decided that Saturday, therefore, would be the best day to visit the sand dunes. Admittedly, they were impressive, but with the gale-force winds, it was like someone had transported the Sahara to the North Pole. Have a look at a picture:

Saturday night itself was fairly low-key, as supplies of alcohol had been drained to dangerously low levels. As I said, not being able to speak French, Portuguese, or Spanish was just one of a myriad of reasons why I felt slightly isolated (This is possibly the worst travelogue in the history of Man, but I want to point out that I don't actually regret going, as spending Easter alone in Chapel Hill didn't sound like an intriguing prospect. And hey, I seem to be able to touch-type. Now, back to the story, wherein Ian doesn't do a lot and goes to bed at 2am. Oh, that is the rest of the story. Erm. I think I should probably close the bracket sometime soon. Okay, here it comes).

The journey home started off nicely, as the sun decided to make a welcome reappearance, but this soon changed. About two hours into the trip back, we were pulled over by a police car. Remember, we're in the South, Sona (who was driving) is Amercian-born, but is of Indian decent, and we're all students, who are obviously no-good liberal communist-supporting drug-abusing hippies. It was not pleasant. Especially because he kept avoiding Sona's questions; it took him three attempts of asking to find out what speed he was going at, and he refused to be identified beyond "Trooper Williams". Sometimes, it seems, stereotypes can be true. Not the best way to end a holiday.

Things to remember from the weekend: no matter how bad you're feeling about yourself, there's always a way to feel worse; "over there" is possibly the worst thing you can say to a person who is legally blind; trust your clothing labels over Rishi's advice on trouser length; North Carolina police officers are not people you want to trifle with; if someone can't see, youwill be invisible if you don't speak, and never, never attempt to buy pizza if the group is six or larger.

Final group shot:

currently playing: Saturday Looks Good To Me - Typing