notes on a slanket

after viewing my last entry i decided that perhaps it was time for me to spend more time out in the world. my life sounds fairly morbid, what with the mosying through cemeteries and spending enough time in pubs for it to qualify as my job. being outside in london however, has just taken a turn for the worse. it's bundle up weather. my days of wearing shorts with stockings are numbered. all this californian mumbo-jumbo about oh my god it's less than 75 and the weatherman is wrong every other day is really to justify a rather hideous impulse buy that i've made as of late. i just felt both my parents cringe, anticipating what horrible product i've bought that i don't need, draining me further of my dwindling funds as i tromp through london in search of a job. well mom and dad i've bought a slanket. "what is a slanket mandy?" one might ask. well, it's a fleece blanket that is in the shape of a jacket, complete with sleeves and a hood. i've been eying these bad boys since my time in la and could no longer resist as it's basically essential to my survival. http://www.theslanket.com/. i also think the advertising is hilarious and frequent the website when in need of a good hearty chuckle. that being said, i didn't actually buy a slanket, i bought a snuggie, the slanket's cheaper, less warm (i have no proof of this) and certainly less trendy cousin. this, i think, should redeem all faith lost.. mom and dad.. common.. it's like i've bought jeans from target (pronounced with a french accent) instead of nordstroms. don't worry i know your beaming with pride at my wise economical and sensible decision. i'll high five myself in celebration.

so, i was sitting on a bench outside my flat, wearing my slanket and scribbling away furiously when i made some new friends. two boys, aged eleven and nine and called thomas and daniel approached me after playing a long game of basketball; where from what I could tell neither of them made a single shot. they were quite good at passing though. "excuse me miss, are you homeless?" asked daniel, staring at my slanket (owning a snuggie pains me so, so for all intensive purposes despite my previous admission, i do in fact own a slanket). "ooh." i smiled and tried to look as un-offended as possible. "no, this is a slanket. it cost me 40 pounds (not true). it's more of a coat then a blanket (also not true)." "i know it's a slanket," thomas affirmed as he eyed me skeptically as though he knew it was in fact a snuggie. "why you wearing it outside?" "it's cold out," i responded. "you look homeless," thomas replied (what a sweeet child). "well technically thomas i'm right out front of my flat so that makes me a.) not really that far outside and b.) not homeless." take that eleven year old! i squeezed logical reasoning and a four syllable word into one sentence. booyah! thomas eyed me skeptically. "well you're a lot smarter than the other tramps, so i guess you aren't one." hah! yes thomas, that's right, i use words like technically and look i've already made an impression on you with my short but sweet lesson on logical reasoning. i am smart; therefore not a tramp, or maybe just not your average tramp. relax, they use tramp over here to mean homeless person; it's not as bad as it sounds and no i did not have the intention of spending this much time discussing homelessness when i sat down to write this.

"do you have a x box?" thomas asked, ruthlessly forging ahead to discover if i was secretly homeless or not. "psshh yeah i've got an x box." relax mom and dad i didn't buy an x box. i lied to the child so as to appear cool, and not homeless. plus my roommate's got one. sharing is caring. "well do you have killing day?" "yeah i did but my flatmate scratched it." no excuses there, that's just a flat out lie. "but I do have guitar hero and rock band" (inherent truths, they are sitting on my living room table). daniel was impressed, "no way! cool!" thomas retorted, "mum won't let us buy those, says playing guitar is dangerous and leads to bad moral character." hmm but killing day employs a good value system? ignoring the silliness of their mum and undermining her completely i said, "well it teaches dexterity and the pacing of music, which i think is pretty important, better than killing games at least." then we got into an interesting and hard hitting discussion about if killing games were ok if you were shooting at aliens who are obviously the bad guys al-ways and for-ever.

at the end of it daniel accused me of having a funny accent. i admitted to being american. well californian actually. big difference. "wow!" said daniel, clearly blown away. thomas looked skeptical again, or maybe he just had to fart, i'm not really sure. i sensed i should be moving on from the bench as i hadn't really gotten much writing done and the left side of my bum was completely asleep. i said "bye", they said "alreet, see you later then."

alreet. see you later then. i've made new friends.

xxx

intial musings.

erm.

my very own blog. i'll do my best to make it blogalicious. (not sure what that means but i like the sound of it). i'm fairly certain my mom, dad, dana and katherine louise whitman miller will probably be the only ones reading but that's quite alright as this is more for me anyways. reflection and repudiation. rules: i will not be capitalizing (i just can't be bothered) and will be speaking/writing in british colloquialisms (see: the aforementioned "i just can't be bothered").

i've been finding it a bit difficult to assimilate. not that assimilation is required. i can be me. obviously. me with a slight british twang. but, i must say i find certain accents near impossible to decipher. when confronted with a scottish or irish accent or even a heavily northern english one, i almost always nod and smile, sometimes i'll even laugh a bit while saying yes. this is problematic as i have no idea what i've agreed to or smiled at, luckily thus far it hasn't caused me any serious problems. for some reason, i can't understand numerical responses, especially in a busy and loud pub where i always have to respond with "sorry what?" their response back is always "you american?" yes me american. and then i get a highly enunciated "that w-ill b-e three pou-nd fi-f-t-y." sweet.

a few days ago, i had a massive revelation; i now finally feel like an official potential ex-pat. previously, no matter how many times i had visited this country, i would inevitably cringe during normal greeting customs. let me expound on this thought (not sure why i've asked permission as this is my effing blog, maybe i'm turning unbearably polite); basically, instead of saying hello, british people greet you with an utterly offensive "you alright?" as an american, my only response to this up until now has been, "yes, i'm fine, of course i'm fine, why wouldn't i be?" this is my naturally elicited response to the all-prying query of "are you ok, because you look like you arent, you look like hell, you have leaves in your hair, you have - insert insecurity here - ." one would think that i would be able to overcome this quite easily but even though i KNOW they're being surface level polite and quite friendly, but my knee-jerk reaction has always been, shit. i have snot on my face.

a couple days ago, someone enquired about my general state of being and i effortlessly mustered up the overly-confident response, "yeaaa, i'm alright. you?" to which they replied, "yea, mate. had a long day at work though." and then a painless and appropriately informative conversation ensued.

i'm making great strides here in london.

all pontification aside (well, not really), i am enjoying london. i've never found it particularly difficult to adapt to new surroundings. while san diego is my first home, los angeles, utrecht, and now london feel like home as well (minus you lot (people, friends and family), of course). my flat is really nice, my roommates are lovely, and i have taken an inexplicable liking to domestic life. i clean, without being asked, and for no particular reason, everyday. shocking. i know. on the script-writing front i've been running with an idea for which the inspiration was a couple of gravestones in a massively eerie yet beautiful cemetary near my flat. i am currently trying to figure out how to not make it wholly morbid and depressing. this could take a while.

i'm currently in a seedy pub stealing their wireless and drinking a cider (aka alcoholic apple juice, a wonderful treat for those with an aversion to beer) and getting odd toothless looks from a toothless man who frequents this pub and attempts to grin at me on a weekly basis. entertaining for about.. half an hour and i've been here 25 minutes so it's about time to wrap this up.

i need a job.

till' next time.

xxxx