THE RICH AND FAMOUS

So yesterday, I went to this snooty charity event for Thanksgiving. Which I've mentioned at least a million times in the last week.

It was interesting to me because of the contrast.

When I left San Francisco, I was thinking how much I miss everyone there, and how much I miss--oh, just in general, my life there. But it's not like my life in London doesn't have its benefits.

Some of the benefits are:

1. I am better off financially here than I would be in the US

2. I have just the right flat, with just the right little setup (except for the fact that I need a cat)

3. I am very close to Europe, and travelling is easier from here

4. I get more time off here, which also makes travelling easier

5. I have a fairly good social life here

6. I get invited to events at which I get to rub elbows with the rich and famous

These are seriously the considerations I've kept in mind when thinking about moving back home. So naturally, I was not just looking forward to this event because of the general fun-ness of it all, but there was part of me that was deliberately contrasting it to the benefits of living back home.

Most of the evening went quite well. It was a black-tie event. I enjoyed the company of the friends I met up with there. Some of the lingerie models were *really* nice as well, and some of the male guests who stopped and chatted with me were nice, and got progressively nicer as they got progressively drunker.

At the end of the evening, the woman who runs the lingerie company came and started yelling at me. (Long story, had nothing to do with me at all, actually, I was just her target.) And, you know, I realised that she believes herself to be above people because of how much money she has and who her parents were.

My reaction, of course, was, "Are you mad? I'm an American. We are taught from a young age that the response to someone pulling class rank on you is to dump their tea in the harbor and start blowing things up."

The complete lack of respect I had for her, and the level of my unimpressedness was sort of surprising. I didn't really care whether or not she was looking down on me, and am not sure whether or not she was. But it dawned on me just how many people had tried in their lives to work their ways up the ladders of fashion or art or [fill in the blank] in order to enter the life and social circle of people like her.

So, suddenly, I was *so over* rich and famous people. It was transparent.

I thought about the friends I have in San Francisco, about why they're my friends, and about the sorts of people I would consider working to meet, to get closer to, to fit in with. I thought about the kinds of people who really *would* impress me.

...and these people are already my friends.

What an appropriate epiphany for Thanksgiving.

COOL THINGS ABOUT LONDON

You know what's cool about London? Sometimes you walk down a passageway, and you realise that this is actually *centuries-old* urine smell that's gagging you.

EXHAUSTED

I am exhausted. And I'm going to only get 5 hours of sleep tonight, max. The thought of this is almost making me panic.

Last night, I went out with Sarah, et al, to discuss what's going on tonight. We agreed to meet near Fulham Broadway--not knowing that there was a Chelsea football game going on in the stadium right next to the tube station. Took us forever to get there, and there were thousands of people everywhere.

Afterwards, Reza drove me to a tube station that was further away, thinking I couldn't possibly get into the tube station with so many disappointed Chelsea fans also trying to wend their ways home.

Reza's new favorite hobby is what he calls "winding me up," and when driving, this evidently means that he must do so in such a way that I scream and grab things. (I honestly thought he was going to hit that car. And I am not easily frightened.)

Well, clearly tonight some rich man will hand me a check for millions of dollars and tell me not to come to work tomorrow. Really, I'm just being silly about all of this.

Happy Turkey Day, everyone. For what we are about to bomb, may God make us truly thankful.

MY UTTERLY FASCINATING CORRESPONDENCE WITH SARAH

I have decided that instead of giving you a further update on this week's activities, I should just post my correspondence with Sarah, which will then tell you everything you need to know:

FROM: Me

SENT: Monday, 9:36 am

All right, so this is your last chance to tell me if I actually need to buy a *ticket* for Thursday. Being pretty much a charity case myself, ofcourse, I'd obviously rather not have to, but Thursday is, after all, Thanksgiving, and if I can't go home, I may as well go look at women with better bodies than me wearing underwear that will guarantee to make me never want to eat turkey again.

By the way--have you ever been to the London Dungeon? If not, would you like to go sometime? It's cheesy, and something I feel like I have to do.

I spent the weekend holed up with my keyboard and music editing software. I'm pathetic.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Monday, 11:27 am

Of course you dont need to pay for your ticket. But I will abuse you for it
:-)

Im finally sorting out credit card payments and so forth so I will need you and reza (and hopefully Niall and Simon) to man the donation booth

London Dun sounds fun. Never done it ... tho of course I may be too scared to do it!

And no, not pathetic. Spent my weekend sleeping - with the exception of a couple of hours when I went round to Lolis (between 10 and 1am cos she is spanish lol)

Are you free at all on Wed evening too? Cos I want to take you and Reza through the credit cards etc and show you venue!

S

FROM: Me

SENT: Monday, 11:31 am

Absolutely! I have nothing to do Wednesday night either, so I'll plan on spending both Wednesday and Thursday with you.

And actually, like I was saying earlier, I think I'd actually prefer to have some kind of official duty so that I don't end up standing around feeling like an idiot. Just please, for the love of God, don't place me too close to any underwear models, because I *so* don't need that kind of "compare and contrast" action going on.

Please don't forget to bring a drool guard for Reza.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Monday, 11:34 am

LOL

Brian (Irish man you met at the last one) said he would come but couldn't pay...

Told him I could guarantee him the show and the canapés .. but drinks only if he had sharp enough elbows to show the skinny people out the way LOL

S

FROM: Me

SENT: Monday, 11:48 am

Something to remember about me: I am rubbish with names. I think it wasn't until after your birthday party that I could reliably remember that Reza was called Reza. All weekend at the airshow just served to give me a vague recollection that there was some guy that I'd seen with a red bucket.

Brian could be anyone.

Which isn't to say that I'm not sure he's quite a lovely person, but it's like you and Gillian Anderson. I'm sure she's lovely as well. Who the heck she is, on the other hand, is a completely different story.

We will have to discuss The Dungeon when you are no longer consumed by underwear duties.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Monday, 12:34 pm

see, totally understand the name thing. Im just as bad.

He was the man I brought over late in the evening (when we sat down on those benchie thingies) and you and he (and his rather quieter wife) spoke about American politics. He even said that he offered to lend you his bowling for colombine DVD as you didnt have it (he emailed to ask me for your email but is rather busy so probably hasnt been in touch).

Kinda biggish guy. Rather shy auburn haired wife...

hope that helps with the bell ringing.

FROM: Me

SENT: Monday, 12:36 pm

Ah!

Okay, I even have his business card. Wait a tick, here it is: Brian Gilliland. Nice guy--we chatted for quite some time.

That's how pathetic I am.

I sent him an email, actually, but ten bucks says he thought it was spam because he didn't recognize the name.

Yes, it's true. I forgot the name of someone I *emailed*.

Oh, and promise me I don't *actually* have to watch rich people "dancing" to a "DJ".

Good lord.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Monday, 12:46 pm

ha ha ha

The donation booth is at a right angle to the dance floor LOL

Not so much forgot the name of as well...

forgot the name of the person in the context.

Its bizarre, just like mobile phones mean that you don't have to remember anyone's phone number, email kinda means that you dont need to remember their name. Its all just a click away. LOL

And our brains just get smaller and smaller. ... Maybe it is a plot :-)

Sarah

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Wednesday, 10:17 am

Hi there,

So have plan!

How about we meet up at Fulham Broadway Station?

Ive checked online and it should only take 25 minutes to go from Baker Street to FB and on the return should take 35 minutes to get home to Camden Town.

Is that a good plan?

I was also thinking about Christmas, and tho I will still possibly go to my godmother's I was thinking of possibly doiing what Ive always thought I would do but never got arround to ... which is volunteering over christmas at a shelter. (there are mobile units which dispense food, but also places like Crisis which not only do food, but also accommodation which have internet centres etc etc. Toying even with the Help the Aged...

Whatcha think?

S

FROM: Me

SENT: Wednesday, 10:20 am

I think that sounds like a great plan! Both plans, actually. It's not that I mind going far, it's just that if I were to try to get to Chelsea, it would probably take until 10 pm, and by then everyone would have gone home. I should probably be able to get to Fulham Broadway at around 6:45.

I think working at a shelter would also be fab. If you decide to do that, count me in.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Wednesday, 10:44 am

Wasnt questioning your ability to travel, but yeah getting together earlier rather then later is a good thing cos well.. its going to be big tomorrow.

What time is the earliest that you can make it tomorrow? (so I can tell Vijay)

S

FROM: Me

SENT: Wednesday, 10:52 am

I think I should make it there at about 7. Is that all right?

I knew you knew I could get around--I just wanted to make it clear that The Spirit is Willing but the Tube is Weak.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Wednesday, 10:49 am

Perfect, thats when I thought we would meet.

There is a Starbucks on the groundfloor (in the station) and Reza proposes we meet there. There are a number of bars, but also a nice Thai place actually in the station.

See you at seven then!

S

FROM: Me

SENT: Wednesday, 11:00 am

Woot woot!

Sounds perfect.

Reza proposes? Hurrah!

Actually, the sad thing is that I've realised that dating Reza would be like dating a twelve-year-old. I have no idea why, but it just is.

I suspect you feel the same way.

So sad.

I have no doubt, however, that if Pierce Brosnan really *does* show up on Thursday, he will decide that he cannot live without me, dump whoever he might currently be with, and beg me to allow him to shower me with gifts and, of course, money.

We don't need to have sex. He can just sit in the corner and look pretty.

I hope you're prepared for this eventuality, since it's bound to happen.

FROM: Sarah

SENT: Wednesday, 11:05 am

BOUND to happen I tell you.

On the other hand one of the male models (wearing only his pringle kilt of course) will suddenly discover that he likes women after all and lust after me. There will be no money, and probably no gifts. But he is not allowed to just sit in the corner and look pretty LOL

You are SO going to laugh at the other doctor thats volunteering. Ravi (I know Ravi and Reza - they should start a pop group LOL they could keep saying "doctors inda house!!")

ROTLFL

SLOW DAY

On my lunch hour today, I purchased some loose tobacco and rolling papers, so that Glen can teach me how to roll cigarettes. I have no idea why this is important, but it feels like a skill I should have. I suppose I'd have greater incentive to learn if I actually smoked.

So far, my attempts have been less than stellar.

Glen has told me that I'm competitive. He actually caught me doing something competitive, which is sort of funny, because for the most part I'm not, but there are a few areas in which I am, and I thought it was fairly well-hidden.

I am *so* not sly.

Come to think of it, I think I get competitive when I'm angry.

Glen said, "It's not that big a deal. Everyone's competitive who's used to winning."

Talk about backhanded compliments.

I don't really have anything to say today. Was just taking a short break from work.

MY NEW DRUGS

So I went out on Saturday and got some new music editing software and the hardware to bridge the instrument-computer gap. I spent most of the rest of the weekend playing with them.

I think music is a drug, really. Half of the time you lose yourself in it--it's a primal scream, or boundless joy, your favorite in-joke or just a nearly-subconscious ditty.

The other half of the time, you're a talentless hack who should have never been allowed access to a keyboard, and WHY GOD, WHY, WHY DID I EVER PICK UP THIS GODFORSAKEN THING?

So many geniuses are bipolar. Chicken or egg? I couldn't say.

I found this place that I've seen referred to as "Musicians' Alley" just south of the Tottenham Court Road tube station--it's about a block or so long, and every store is either a guitar shop or some other music-related store. (It's actually called Denmark Street.) Sheet music, keyboards, drums, amps--everything you could need or want.

It's a dangerous place.

I ended up at a Pro Audio shop, looking for a specific thing that I'd seen online. At first, the guys at the shop were vaguely rude to me--in the sort of "We know what we're doing and you don't and we don't want to waste our time with you" kind of way. So I walked out, looked around a bit, and then decided that I wasn't going to tolerate that. So I went back, and said, "Look, this is what I need, and I'm sure you have the pieces for this, so can you discuss this with me or not?" and they turned around and from then on were great. On the one hand, why give someone your business if they were dismissive? On the other hand, I wanted that bloody software and didn't care who I had to push around to get it.

I was afraid of getting equipment that I wouldn't be able to use back home in the US, but quickly figured out that anything I was going to get would have a power adaptor with it that would reduce voltage to 9 volts or something like that anyway, so I needn't worry. Just need to get a new set of adaptors when I get back to the States, which, let's face it, is the easiest part in all of this.

Of course, installing and setting things up never works completely smoothly. For example, I kept installing the driver for the USB/MIDI interface, and the computer kept whining about it anyway, so eventually I went to the company website to look for the driver there, and there was a notice saying, "This driver repairs the problems we had with Windows XP [my operating system]". I actually feel grateful that I didn't end up having other problems and then, finally, get directed to the new driver. But eventually I got everything arranged, and now know that in order to feed music into my computer I have to mess about with pretty much every control panel there is. By the end of this, I'll know more about digital music than I ever thought I wanted to.

I figure, though, I eventually became a photoshop/flash/illustrator expert (or close thereto), so if I just don't stress myself out about this too much or feel too much like I need to have a finished-sounding result right away, this will eventually come to me as well.

Anyway, I also discovered Father Ted, since a coworker lent me DVDs of the entire three seasons. Before watching this, I assumed that "feck" was just a different pronunciation of the other f-word. It turns out that in Ireland, it's a different word entirely, meaning exactly the same thing, but not considered nearly as offensive. Small children can even say it.

I would like to point out that this makes no sense at all.

Then again, nobody asked me.

I've been getting more and more spam from groups called things like "Christian Singles." Is it only me, or does an email with the subject heading, "SOME CHRISTIAN LIKES YOU" seem vaguely sinister?

I HATE ANDY

Witness a conversation from Friday:

Me: So, basically what you're saying is the way to get the barre to work in this STUPID F-major chord is to bash the bejeezus out of the strings?



Andy: Yes. The last thing you want in your strings is bejeezus.