LIFE IN GENERAL

Well, what an exciting life this is turning out to be. Firstly, I think that this whole World Cup thing is being done strictly for my benefit. Every time there's an underdog team that I want to win a match, they do. Every time I don't care, it's just another match and they usually lose.

So anyway, there's this huge rivalry between England and Argentina. And yesterday they played a match in the World Cup, and England won. (England was a bit of an underdog in this match.) Madness! There are roving bands of people waving flags and singing hymns. The streets and shops were absolutely empty during the match, and then the minute it was over, this insanity started up.

It's fantastic!

I'm having so much fun, I can't stand it. I'm pretty upset because it looks like I'm going to have to leave the country 10 days before the finals, and I really wish I could stay over here for the duration.

It's strange; I don't know what's going to happen over the next few months. On the one hand, it's terrifying. On the other hand, it's not terrifying at all. It's sort of like what happened before I left home--I had to get rid of almost everything I own. That's a pretty traumatic thing, and I did a lot of crying and carrying on. But at the same time, it's liberating. When nothing is tying you down, you feel free,but you also feel like you're losing your grip on the earth and you might float away.

It doesn't help to have seen Megiddo in the news for the first time in my life, and because of a war. That's really frightening.

In the midst of all of this, Matthew has been a really really good friend. I think he must be psychic, because he took me for sushi the other night, and it was fantastic. I know this may sound weird, but he's been so nice that I've been a little scared. And then when he can see that I'm a little scared, he's been nice and acted reassuring. It's been really lovely, and I'm trying *really* hard not to be freaked out by it. It's the sort of behavior that should be rewarded by people being happy and not by people looking at you like you've sprouted a third arm.

He's pretty much being the nicest person in the world. It's not that he wasn't nice before, it's just...I don't know. If I try to explain it will come out all wrong. It makes me really happy, but what if I relax and start to trust him and then something bad happens? I guess that's the point of life--you never know. It's like football. You don't know how the England/Argentina game is going to go, so you have to sit through the whole thing. Maybe it will end up having been a complete waste of 90 minutes. Maybe it will be boring right up until the last minute. Maybe it will end up being the best game you've seen yet.

I drew a sports analogy! It's official! I am a boy!

Anyhoo.

I wonder what's going to happen next?

RANDOM THOUGHTS, ALBEIT A LOT OF THEM

Wow. Today was the best day in football, ever.

It was funny, because before the USA/Portugal match, all of the commentators were talking about how far Portugal would go in the competition, and they pretty much ignored the fact that a match was about to happen. It was a foregone conclusion, after all. They were talking about what kind of strategy Portugal would use going forward, and about whether or not they were the 'outsider' who would win the Cup.

Then the match started, and after the US scored the first goal (in the third minute, if I recall correctly) the commentators kind of stuttered a little and talked about how this would affect the Portugal morale, and then when the US scored the second goal, they started talking about all of the other matches in which Portugal had come up from a 2-0 to win, and then when the US scored the third goal, they started saying, "Uh, you know, the US is actually playing really well. And what's wrong with Portugal?"

Even up to the end of the match you could tell they kept expecting Portugal to pull ahead and win. After the match, all of a sudden everyone was talking about what a fantastic game the US had played, and calling it "the biggest upset in football since [fill in the blank]".

It was fantastic!

Then the next game, Germany/Ireland, seemed like it was going to be really boring after a bit, because Germany had a goal and Ireland just never seemed to quite do anything about it. Then they (Ireland) scored a goal in the second minute of injury time, and tied the match.

Fabulous!

Of course I was supporting Ireland.

So now, you know, nobody in the US watches soccer, World Cup or not. And you know that all of a sudden it's going to be everybody's favorite sport and you'll see nothing but soccer everywhere you look. I almost wish I was there to see it.

Almost.

I will probably end up going back to San Francisco in a couple of weeks, and then from there I assume I'll end up going to Boston and doing some temp work for a while before moving on to somewhere and something else. So I keep thinking about things I'm going to do back home. So far, eating sushi seems to figure into my plans an awful lot, as does getting the rest of my shoes. I am having a hard time dealing with the fact that most of my shoes are back home.

And then, last night I dreamed about tacos.

Tacos!

It's pretty much a battle not to get too frustrated by the fact that my life is so unstable right now. This is probably the most helpless I've ever been. It's funny, because the other day someone told me that I was more resilient and less helpless/needy than someone else, and I thought, "What the...?"

I kind of wanted to say...all right, let's see. I have sold or given away all of my possessions that didn't fit into three suitcases and two boxes. I have nothing here to sell if I should get into trouble. I have nothing to make do with. I have no job. I don't have permission to work in this country, so I can't just go out and take a temp job typing or something. I can't obtain anything I didn't leave the States with.

I have no parents to call if I get into trouble. I have no sibling who can afford to pay his or her own bills, let alone send me money if something bad happens.

I have a negative bank balance, which I'm trying to figure out how to cover before I get into trouble for it. (Long story.) I have some cash in my wallet--less than £50--and this needs to last me...indefinitely.

I have a plane ticket to go back to San Francisco on June 20. This is a good thing, because if I'm in the US, then I can at least do temp jobs. So it's possible that the money I have in my purse will only have to last me until a little while after June 20. I have paid my rent in advance, and I have a train/bus pass, so I don't have to worry about being kicked out and I don't have to worry about how to get around. I have food in the cupboard that will last me a couple of days if I'm creative and if I cook it when my roommate's not around, because when I cook and he's around he always wants to try whatever I'm making, and I can't really afford to share.

I have to be really careful about what I eat because a couple of weeks ago I had to go to the doctor for malnutrition, and if I end up getting that sick again, I can't afford to go out and buy the food that is going to have the vitamins I need.

I have a few friends in this country, but I don't actually know them all that well. I think the one I know the best I've seen five times. My ex-boyfriend actually knows them better than I do, and I feel kind of weird seeing them right now. Besides which, I'm sort of afraid to get together with them, because I'm sure they'd want to go for coffee at the very least, and I don't want to tell them that I can't afford a cup of coffee. One of my greatest fears is being pitied by someone.

My boyfriend--the only person over here that I actually know very well--broke up with me and said that he knew he'd done things that hurt me terribly, and that he'd done things that were wrong, but that he planned on continuing doing things to hurt me and doing things that were wrong, because he didn't care enough to do anything else. Call me crazy, but I don't see myself asking him for anything.

If I go back to San Francisco, I have no place to stay. One friend told me I could crash at his place if I get into a mess, but I'm pretty sure that more than a week would be overstaying my welcome. So I think what I'm going to have to do is get back to San Francisco, and then take a bus over to Boston, because I've talked to my sister over there and she said I could stay with her. A bus ticket will cost $109, which is more than I have, so I'll have to work a temp job for at least a week before I do that. It will take just over three days to get there, which is less time than I thought, which is good. I would have estimated at least five.

If I am on a bus for three days, my ankles will swell up, and I will not be able to walk for two days after that. (It is sick that I know this.) So I need to work that into any schedule that I make out.

There's a really good reason I don't want to go back to the US, but I don't want to talk about it here. Just assume that I'm running away from something really bad that I hope doesn't find me when I get back there.

So I have spent the last few weeks outlining my options and trying to figure out what to do. What I'm typing here is pretty much a concrete version of what's been going on in my head. Most of it involves trying to figure out how to get back over here once I've had to go back to the States, because I think I've worked out the only plan I can for what's going to happen when I get there.

But with all of this, all I can think of is, how exactly is it possible for anyone else to be more helpless than me?

Oh, wait, I forgot. I haven't cried about it and asked anyone else to take care of me. I should probably do that. I think I'll cry to...Hmm.

This presents a quandary.

I don't actually have anyone to cry to this about.

Obviously, the real reason I'm not going to cry is that everything is going to be just fine, and I'm not at all worried about it. It's pretty simple, really. I'm going to keep everything on a very fine balance until June 20. That's only just over two weeks. I'm going to fly back to San Francisco, stay with a friend for a week or, at most, two, and I'll work a temp job. Then I'll take a bus to Boston. And then I'll work some more temp jobs, and eventually I'll earn enough money to come back over here and go through this whole mess again.

There are lots of people in this world who are homeless and have nothing. I have a lot. I have a roof over my head, and I have rent under that roof paid until July 23. I have a bus/train pass. I have some not-very-exciting food in my cupboard, but it's food, and if you are ever stuck having to eat something that someone else has to throw together out of available ingredients, I'm the best person to put in the kitchen. I'm the most fantastically creative cook I know, and can make a meal out of almost anything. I'm actually quite proud of that fact, in case you couldn't tell. I've had lots of practice, because I've been flat broke for most of my life.

I will not spend one second being cold, or wondering where I'm going to sleep the next night. I know where my next meal is coming from, and I know how it's going to taste. I have three suitcases full of clothes, even if most of them are too big for me. I know how to sew, and I can take them in--a friend has offered to lend me her sewing machine. I am healthy. I am in a country that is at peace for the most part.

I can type over 100 wpm and have a decent phone manner, so I usually have little difficulty working temp jobs. I have a great resume at this point, so my chances of getting a job eventually are better than a lot of people's. The people I've worked with before don't hate me, and so I can get decent references.

I can think of at least three friends back in the States who would lend me enough money to get to Boston if I asked them. One person over here has offered to lend me money if I need it, but I'm in a situation in which it would be impossible to accept that help under any circumstances. But it is nice to know that it was offered.

And I'm not going to have to borrow money from any of them. I've planned things out really well. I was very careful. I was supposed to get paid for some contract work I did, but I made sure that even if they never paid me, I'd still have the money in my purse that I do have, and I'll make that work.

There is one final thing that I have back in the States. My electric violin is worth $2500, and it's in a consignment shop. They said they could give me more of its selling price if I sell it on consignment, but they offered to buy it outright for $800 if I'd like. I am trying to avoid that, because for one thing, I love that violin and really, really want to keep it. It has a lot of sentimental value. I also feel like it's my last resort, and I don't want to use up my last resort unless there really *is* nothing I can do.

I'm actually far better off than I've been lots of times in my life. I'm not in danger of being homeless, for one thing. And furthermore, I'm in this situation because I put myself here. I am where I want to be, doing what I want to do. And believe it or not, I'm happy, and having fun.

So there really isn't any reason to cry to anyone.

THE PRIESTHOOD

So, I just want to know. Is *anyone* else horrified about this? So now the Catholic church has decided to remove priests from service if they have had sex with *more than one* child?

What the...? So one child is okay, I mean, it was only the one time after all.

Please tell me someone else is horrified over this.

JUBILEE!

So anyway, we went to the Queen's Jubilee Par-tay last night. It was great fun. Lots of British flag-waving (incidentally, I have finally had the whole flags thing explained to me. There was a bit of confusion over the flag for Great Britain, the one for England, the one for Wales, you know, that sort of thing. Anyway, I have it roughly figured out.) and many many musicians singing tributes to the Queen.

The best moments, of course, all had to do with Ozzy Osbourne. There's something about watching Ozzy Osbourne shake hands with the Queen that just warms your heart. And then he was singing along to "Hey, Jude." I almost soiled myself.

Matthew, of course, was being Very British. He did *not* sing along with anything. He did *not* shout "hooray" when they did the three cheers for the queen thing. He swayed a bit during the tunes, but that's all I could get out of him.

Mind you, this is the guy who loses control when listening to Certain Latin Bands Which Shall Remain Nameless, but I'm pretty sure that's under the influence of Certain Beverages Which Shall Not Be Named.

Anyway.

It was great fun. I am really happy that I got to be here for this, even if it's sort of silly.

Today I got to watch the planes fly overhead. The Royal Air Force did this flyover thing, and the last group had red, white, and blue smoke.

It was way cool. I can't quite figure out whether or not it's completely cheesy or not. I mean, when they're doing the whole "proud to be British" thing, they're talking about stuff like the Beatles. Definitely not cheesy. But then, they're all wearing glittery hats and waving little flags.

It's confusing, I tell you.

I just love Ozzy Osbourne. Between him and Alice Cooper, you know, there's everything I could hope for. But anyway, they interviewed Ozzy. He was so excited about meeting the queen, but obviously really nervous, too. He had this attitude of, "Wow, I can't believe they'd ask me to do this. I can't believe there are all of these people like the Beatles, and here I am." He actually said something to that effect. He said that they were all grown-ups, and he was just this kid. He was talking about this, and about the success of his show, and he just kept saying over and over how lucky he was, and it was obvious that he was just so humble about everything--that he felt like it was sheer good fortune, and he didn't take any of it for granted.

What an awesome guy. I wish I could adopt him in my dad's absence.

I just had a mental picture of what my dad would do if he thought I had anything to do with Ozzy Osbourne. You don't want I should tell you.

Anyway, I will endeavor not to mention football too much, although it is actually consuming my life at the moment. I just have to say that during the Turkey/Brazil game, I had a very confusing moment because a penalty (a yellow card) was issued to a player named Fatih.

Mind you, I didn't know any of the player names or anything. All I knew is that the commentator said, "And that's a yellow card for Fatih."

In American English, this would have no effect on me whatsoever. But, when spoken with a British accent, I thought that someone had just received a penalty for passing gas.

They keep American-bashing on this thing, too. I guess the US is a notoriously bad team, so at least once a day someone says, "Man, that's almost as bad as the US!" or something like that.

Hmph!

They're just jealous because we have food that isn't grey. Or covered in beans.

All right, so it's time for feedback from you. I have spent the last two days trying to come up with a word for the little ceremonial cube of pork that sits at the top of every can of Pork 'N' Beans. Please mail me your suggestions.

Thank you.

FOOTBALL. YES, I KNOW, SHUT UP.

It's pretty distressing how much I'm getting into this football thing. I have been getting up at ungodly hours in the morning to watch the first match, and I've been averaging two and a half matches a day. It's sick, I tell you.

Incidentally, last night I had a bit of a suspicion confirmed. I turned to Matthew and said, "Did you know that if you are in the possession of the ball, and you want to pass it to one of your teammates, there have to be two people between him and the opposing goal?"

He looked sort of...disappointed? disgusted? and said, "Who told you?"

Yes, that is the offside rule. It was clearly a letdown to him that I knew what it was. And I let him know that NOBODY explained it to me, because nobody WOULD explain it to me, and eventually I had to look it up on the Internet.

Hmph.

Some of the matches are fairly interesting, but it's obvious that the sports commentators have a list of regional information and that sort of thing that they have at hand so that they can fill up dull bits with small talk. This makes for some of the stupidest small talk I have ever heard in my life.

For example, during the Ireland/Cameroon game, the commentator said, (and I am not making this up, although I'm paraphrasing the last part of it) "Well, that guy went down like a sack of potatoes. What would the Irish know about potatoes? Heh. Well, around here, it's not potatoes, it's rice. Most meals here are based around rice, and this particular area is renowned for its rice wine, which is known as sake."

I'm telling you, sometimes it's almost painful.

Anyway, last night I got to walk around and see part of the stuff that's going on for the Queen's Jubilee. It's actually kind of fun. You know, the queen just seems like the nicest woman in the world. It's interesting to see the difference in the way that patriotism is displayed here. It's so much associated with right-wing politics in the US, that it's hard to see it any other way.

A lot of things are different here. It's almost like the country is more of a small town. I know that's weird, but the politics just seem more that way to me for some reason. Everything is more "local." People have a certain type of pride in the local boy artists, for example, that is different from the way it is back home. It seems like local artists are a bit more supported, because there is pride in the fact that they are British. Back home, listening to an artist from another country is seen as more cosmopolitan or something, and the more well-educated thing to do. Here, even well-educated people sort of feel an affinity for the local musicians and are proud of what they do.

I guess it's that the masses back home are xenophobic, and so more well-educated people try to make a point of embracing the other. This sounds like some kind of horrible stereotype, and I'm not saying that there aren't quite lovely uneducated people who are neither racist or xenophobic.

But you have to make an effort back home. It's easy to assume that your experiences are the same as everyone else's. You have to make an effort to figure out that your opinions and beliefs are very much a product of your experiences and environment, and that alternatives exist. You can go thousands of miles and never meet people whose experiences and environment differ all that greatly from yours. To go beyond your own borders usually requires some kind of unique thought or deliberate effort. It's actually possible to go through life having only rare encounters with people who are quite different from yourself.

America seems to be a pretty homogenous behemoth sometimes. And we turn out schlock of every variety. So I guess that when someone from somewhere else makes good, it's like the underdog has won by working hard and making something nice.

All right, I'm rambling, and I don' t know what I'm trying to explain.