A lovely cheese pizza, just for me.

Best way to beat poverty, pizza-style?

Take one plain cheese, frozen pizza. My favorite is the £1 one from Iceland, because it's the closest thing I've found in the UK to Ellio's. Add baby spinach, red onion, crumbled feta, and drizzle a little extra virgin olive oil on it. Bake it normally. It is so insanely good that you will temporarily forget that your student loan checks for the semester haven't cleared yet! It fills the void left by not having the money to eat at Pizza Express for now.

The new student union building, the HUB, opened on campus the other week, complete with big, open, airy cafeteria area, and two new cafes. They have crazy student discounts, powerpoints at a lot of the tables, and are open until the evening. Two very enthusiastic thumbs up to the university for actually having a cheap and quality place to get hot food during the cold, rainy Glasgow days. The university has done something right!

Word on the street is that we may be getting a new flatmate, this time a German, as Indian Flatmate² moved out last week. He was the second occupant this year in that room. We can't keep anyone there; it's become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching job of Flat 1/2. However, if the German moves in, I think it will be a good fit. He seemed very eager to be both clean and quiet. If he does move in, we will be two Americans, an Indian, a Russian, and a German.

The nice weather yesterday has confused the tree outside my window into sprouting something that almost looks like early spring buds. Silly tree. It's still January, though finally, it's staying light until 4pm these days. Remind me of my complaints regarding the dark when it's July and the sun is staying up until 11pm.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot...

In honor of my first ever Burns Night Supper:



To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough


Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

...I thought it would be a lot of fun (which it was!) and a lovely dinner party (which it was!), but my favorite part of Burns Night? The fireworks over George Square.

Imagine being a writer who 250 years later is still celebrated yearly with food, drinking, and fireworks? I don't think it gets much better than that.

Most importantly? I GOT TO CUT THE HAGGIS! This is apparently a big deal.

Overall, a wonderful first Burns Night Supper.

We twa hae run about the braes...

Term 2 in Glasgow has been flying by. It's already almost February, which just feels astounding when the due date for my dissertation is August 11. Six months (and change) seems like a lot, but in reality, I don't think it's very much time at all. Especially when there's a giant question mark that follows it and the possibility of having to leave Glasgow. Which I don't want to do.

Today is a very special occasion indeed: the 250th anniversary of the birth of Robert Burns! There have been festivities going on here in Glasgow for the past two weeks, but tonight is the official night. I have an invite to my first ever Burns Supper, which (from what I gather) consists of haggis, neeps and tatties, lots of drinking, lots of recitation of Burns' works, lots more drinking, and well, more drinking. The Scots are quite big on their drinking. But whisky aside, I'm pretty excited. A more or less national holiday for a writer? Involving lots of food and drinking? This country's got it right, I tell you.

So I spent my day in the library yesterday doing research, and one of the books in the impossibly large pile on my study carrel was a collection of Zora Neale Hurston's letters. I was pretty psyched about tackling it, until I opened the book:



Tell me what's wrong with this picture.

I feel like this only happens in the Glasgow Uni library. I feel like soon I'm going to start opening books with all blank pages. For £9,000 a year in tuition, I feel like I should be entitled to some damn numerals. Is that too much to ask?

It is raining today. I finally did the math on it, and found that Glasgow average almost 80 inches of rain a year. Seattle only averages about 40 inches. That, my friends, is a lot of rain.

Don't like the weather? Wait thirty seconds...

It is snowing here in Glasgow!

Not only is this a rare occasion (the west coast of Scotland is much warmer than the east, but far, far wetter), but it's a cool one to have happen on a Sunday afternoon. My university-run apartment complex is for international postgrads, and so it's as close as you can get to being the Olympic Village without a McDonald's. With the exception of a handful (albeit a big handful) of Americans and Canadians, most of the "international" come from really far away countries. India, Nigeria, Malaysia, Pakistan. Countries where it doesn't snow. So the snow starts falling, and suddenly, you see all the windows in the courtyard open and cameras poke out from behind the glass. People start to congregate in the doorways to watch. It's an event.

Personally? I'm just happy I don't have a car to scrape. Though I doubt I'd even have to. These are humongous, wet snowflakes, almost like feathers.

...and just as soon as it starts, it's already switching back to rain and the sun is coming out. Glasgow, I'd expect nothing less from you.

It's been a busy two weeks that haven't seen a blog update from me. London. Then Paris. Then the start of term. I think there are probably worse things to complain about. Feeling completely overwhelmed with the start of Term 2 (which I am feeling -- completely overwhelmed) because I was hanging in Paris for the start of the winter Soldes, when all the shops have their massive sales? It's a bit of a self-inflicted wound, so I'll stop whining about being completely behind and just shut my mouth and get to reading Kafka. Yay.

Paris II was a most excellent trip for me and Gabriella (whose birthday it is today -- HAPPY BIRTHDAY!). Though a cold one, with temperatures being the coldest in Europe in decades. It limited the amount that we could just stroll, but regardless, we had a great time. We had excellent meals (both French and Thai), got into the Louvre for the evening for €6 total (not per person), visited the hauntingly beautiful Église St-Etienne-du-Mont (where the tomb of Ste. Geneviève is located), and got turned down by a homeless man with a "J'AI FAIM" sign, who snubbed his nose and shook his head at the ever-so slightly-smushed croissant I offered him.

...Gabriella at the top of one of the sets of escaliers de Montmartre.

The rest of the pictures from the trip are here, and Paris, far and away, remains my favorite spot on the planet. Though to be fair, I haven't seen all the spots on the planet.

It's a bit hard to believe that I'm already in the second term of the school year. A one-year Master's program isn't a great idea, kiddies. Trying to cram two years of work into just one? We're almost in February and my dissertation is due on August 11th. I think the plan for now is that the second I turn it in, I'll go head somewhere for a few weeks. I want to go completely off the grid, maybe get a villa on the Amalfi Coast that has no phone and no internet and just hang out there until it's time to go rejoin the real world again. So if anyone has any rich uncles or benefactors with a spare ocean-front property in Positano? Point them in my direction, please.

I love living in Glasgow, but the crappiness of the weather is really wearing on me. I swear I'm applying for PhD programs in the deep south and the deep south only. Somewhere with almost-perpetual sunshine and heat. I need it after the daily hurricanes that western Scotland has to offer.

(Forget I mentioned snow; it's now blindingly sunny and the skies are blue.)

And because I feel guilty for not blogging in so long, as a peace offering, I coming bearing Ghetto Superstar from the steps of the Sacre Coeur.

The little steam engine that couldn't...

I'm back in the U.K., and shamefully (from a blogging perspective) have been for about a week now.

Currently, I'm on a National Express train, heading from Glasgow to London. Free wifi is a fabulous thing, especially for a six hour train journey. Free wifi, power ports, booze on board... it doesn't get much better.

Except, it does. Today's train ride is brought to you by the letters "U" and "SUCKNATIONALEXPRESS."

Situation: a small plane crashed in Staffordshire. On the line. The small plane crashed on the train line, making all the west coast line trains (which are the ones running from Glasgow down to London) canceled. So all passengers on those trains were stuck on our east coast Glasgow to London line. Which was already an overbooked train. This is not the part that is National Express' fault. They cannot help the plane crash. But they can help canceling all reservations, which means that all the assigned seats are no longer assigned. It became an everyman for himself situation. Which again, we were all fine with in Glasgow. Because half of us didn't have seats, and were thrilled to be told we could sit down. I was one of those who without the canceling of reservations, would have been sitting on the ground outside the toilets for six hours.

But they didn't tell the people getting on at Edinburgh. Which seemed to be the entire population of Edinburgh. So you've got loads and loads of people overflowing on a train, people sitting in other people's reserved seats (which are no longer reserved), and it's just a mess. An absolute mess. People are angry and cursing and it's really, really unpleasant.

(I must pause to say that I'm currently about 50 feet from the North Sea, and as always, it's spectacular. I love the east coast train line down to London.)

(I must pause again to say that while the North Sea is on my left, the sun is setting on my right. Oh, United Kingdom, you are a gorgeous beast, even if all your shops are still closed on January 2nd.)

But that is my current status quo. I'm on a very crowded train.

It's been a busy week, post-USA. In that time I have:

• Suffered some pretty wicked jetlag;
  
• Done a freezing day in Edinburgh with Gabriella;
  
• Done a terrifying ghost tour in Edinburgh that had us almost in tears;
  
• Put Gabriella on a plane (well, replacement bus to the airport, as the trains from Central weren't running) to Holland;
  
• Started submitting more writing to mags and journals;
  
• Spent the weekend with Mom and Tom in Glasgow;
  
• Celebrated my first Hogmanay in Scotland -- Happy New Year!
  
• Recovered from my first Hogmanay in Scotland. They definitely don't mess around here about their New Year's festivities;
  
• Mistakenly set my alarm for 7:30am instead of 8:30am, depriving myself of a much needed extra hour of sleep. New Year's Resolution: LEARN TO TELL TIME.
  

...and that takes me up to just about now, to sitting on this train. I really would like to get up, but am terrified of losing my seat, so there's a chance I will not use the bathroom between here (still about an hour north of Newcastle) and London, where I don't even know if I have 30p for the superloo at King's Cross.

Still, paying to urinate aside, I'm so happy to be back in the UK.

Though I leave it next week again.

For Paris!