A day in a life of monotony

I get up around 12:30 in the afternoon.
I shower.
I go downstairs to eat/nibble.
I go back upstairs to study.
I sleep at 6am after updating my blog.

My life of teaching myself Japanese, Psychology and Sociology is a quiet and sometimes boring one - a bit like this post, lol.

New Plan

I've decided to reject that bloody college. If they're willing to give away my place just because I was badly advised by an incompetent employee and just because they couldn't tell me, over the phone, that the fee would be 1,482 pounds then they don't deserve to have me studying in they're institution. At least, that's how I'm reconciling it. I've set my sights on self study, which I've been doing with Japanese so how hard can it be with Sociology and Psychology, she says (nervous laughter). I've found a place to take the exams and I've downloaded the spec for each course.

I feel good about the situation because sitting around another year was too painful to contemplate. I think in terms of wasted time as opposed to what's meant to be.

Post-August 19th

In My Reality: San was empty because that's exactly what happened. NOTHING. On the night of August 18th I found out that the university wasn't accepting any home/EU students through Clearing, effectively cancelling Clearing 2010. I never got a chance to try...

In My Reality: San

In My Mind: Ni

In my mind this is how I want the conversation on August 19th to go:

Tutor: What were your results?

Me: Three C's.

Tutor: You can't really do any of our courses...

Me: I know, but I got those grades like years ago.

Tutor: I see...

Me: For the past 3 years I been studying Biology at Queen Mary. Last summer I decided to drop out (I'm not sure whether I should add in the fact that I failed) and pursue Japanese full-time. Alongside studying at QM I've been teaching myself Japanese. I feel that I need guidance in my study, short of moving to Japan I don't know how else to best improve my Japanese skills. I really have a genuine passion for any thing Japanese, I want to know anything and everything. I think this uni has the perfect atmosphere to nurture that.

Tutor: Uh huh, uh huh..........Welcome aboard. Give us your clearing number and you can enroll in September.

Me: Woooooooooohoooooooooooooo.

THE END

She's gone and she's never coming back

My supervisor's gone, she left the country and headed back to Germany. I'm sad, she was lovely, always patient, always answering our stupid questions and always with a never ending source of flies for us to use.

She left about 2 weeks ago, I'm not good with dates but I know it was around the end of October. Eleanor and I decided to get her a little going away present in the form of anything we could find in the local Mile End shops. We snuck out while we were trying to clean our fly tubules; one thing about my project that always grosses me out. The problem with incubating flies for 2 weeks is that you end up with fly stew; often a mixture of dead fly, mould, fly feed and paraffin. It's quite a tedious job because of the need to remove the paraffined (yes, I know that's not a real word) end of the tubule using piping hot water. Then, placing the tubules in the death contraption that is the Autoclave; it relies on the production of steam to clean and therefore reaches great, explosive pressures. We tentatively, always tentatively use the autoclave.

We told her that we were going out for lunch; something we rarely do because we often get too engrossed in analysing our data. We walked along the Mile End road stopping in shops to check out their card and chocolate collections. We settled, after several minutes of debate, on a card adorned with black cats against a yellow background, on the interior was a night-time landscape; midnight blue with swirls of various lighter shades of blue to highlight the clouds. And yes more cats, but not the whole cat just the eyes. Across the A5 piece of card there were at least 15 sets of eyes staring back at us, Eleanor loved it, I was a bit dubious but not bothered enough to argue. We went on, to another shop, to buy her some chocolates, one standard Cadbury's chocolates in a box shaped a bit like a Christmas cracker and some Smarties, not just any smarties though. These were like easter egg smarties except instead of an easter egg it was a penguin which sound like maracas when shaken, now that I liked.

We skillfully hid our presents in Eleanor's big coat when we got back to the office, unfortunately she was knee-deep in a conversation with one of the Phd students in the lab. We had to wait. So, we thought it would be best to start analysing our data. I'm not going to go too far into it but my data was faulty so I couldn't analyse. With the intention of correcting the problem I walked - in total - 12,255 steps that day, trekking all the way from the office to the fly lab was a bitch. I'm not fit and I've never tried to be but the always broken lift (I think I've mentioned this before) left me with 5 floors to walk up at least 4 times that day. I was not pleased.

When she'd finished with her colleague and we were finished with cleaning the fly tubules we handed our card and presents to her. She was genuinely shocked and grateful. She opened her card, which she loved because apparently she was a big fan of cats. Unfortunately, her husband was allergic so she couldn't have any. So, she had resigned herself to collecting cat statues from all over the world. She gave us a hug and a Ferrero Roche as a thank you. We said our goodbyes and that was the last time we spoke.

I'm gonna miss her.

I'm back....................

..........and I'm sure all three of you who read my blog are happy about that. I've had a life altering summer mainly due to the fact that I failed my exams; I'll have to sit out a year as a result. I'm not gonna postpone my trip, for me its not an option.

In the mean time, I have a year a spare on my list of 'what to do's': to prevent my brain from rotting any further I'm gonna get a job; any job for that matter, in this current economy everyone's a beggar and can't be a chooser. I also have to do some internships to bulk up my CV, which is seriously barren of any work experience.

On a positive note Stan was surprisingly nice about the situation, he asked which one of us was sitting out a year of school and then said he was more than happy for me to continue with my project. I suspect he was pleased with the fact that I actually wanted to finish of my work but, he's pretty hard to read. Eleanor and I noticed that the only person he was ever really happy to see was one of his Phd students. Comparing the two men I can see many similarities: they're both tall, both lean, wiry men and both have cherub-like curls. Which brings me to my main point, I recently cut my hair (courtesy of my sister) because the afro roots of my hair couldn't cohabit with the straight relaxed ends. In my attempts to render my new hairstyle as acceptable I ended up with some-what cherub like hair. I think Stanewsky greatly appreciated this as I reminded him of his favourite student.

Unfortunately, my supervisor is leaving in about 2 weeks, we'll be very sad to see her go. This is gonna be a short post but it's nice to be writing again.

Stan Strikes!!!

It's like any other Friday, this summer, I wake up then have a bath and brush my teeth........make myself pretty (don't know if it works). I try to make the cheapest journey I can to station, cos I'm a student......cheapskate's my middle name. I leave the house around 9.10 am - I got side tracked watching E! news (guilty pleasure) - and top my oyster card off with 4 pounds. In England, no in London we pay extortionate travels fares. Before 9.30 am a 1-day travel card costs almost 10 pounds, for the rest of the day with my student discount I pay 5.80 pounds, it's a huge difference amidst the Credit Crisis. I get on the bus around 9.20 am, get to Stratford at 9.45ish. When I get to the station there's a problem.

As I try to exit, the barriers make that off-key beep.....the 'you don't have enough money' beep so I go over to the assitance counter, no one's there. I knock on the window but it's made out of that triple thick plastic so my knock is barely audible to me let alone the tickets operator. I conclude that my voice would be far more appropriate in this situation so I say 'Excuse me' - using my grown up voice - no answer, I wait 23 seconds (not that I was counting or anything) then I shout 'EXCUSE ME!'........it works. I yield and part with 2 pounds to top-up my oyster card, I don't need to ask the operator 'why the beep?'; the barriers gave me the 'you don't have enough money' beep because I was cutting corners. I storm out of the station onto Mile End road and head for the Lab, I'm running a tiny bit late.

The week prior the lift was broken, so as I enter the building I pray to the gods that it has been fixed. It hasn't, after cursing son of a bitch and the like I decide to make the herculean journey to the 5th floor. After the first two flights of stairs I'm already worn out, I admit it I'm very, very unfit.......but do I really deserve to be tortured for it. Note to self: make offering to gods so that the damn lift can be fixed. I get to the 4th floor gasping for air while resting all my weight on the railing, I proceed down the corridor towards another flight of stairs and then Fly Lab, Valhalla for the unfit. Eleanor calls wondering where I am at 10.02 am, she's looking for any reason not to be in the lab with him, Stanewsky, I tell her I'm on the 4th floor and we curse the school for not fixing the lift.

As I approach the lab doors, which we finally have access to after 4weeks of phone calls (on my supervisor's part) and waiting, Eleanor opens the door and tells me that Stan's there and he's grumpy. What the hell is he doing here, he's not supposed to be in on Fridays I say, she agrees. We decide it a safer bet to sit on the couch (the brown, old but surprisingly comfortable couch) than to sit in the lab all alone with him unable to speak. We have a chinwag about tennis and Wii, blah, blah....one of the scientists who makes the Drosophila feed (haven't learned her name yet) tells us that she'll stop our experiment for us so we go with her to do all that - pretty boring stuff really. She is really helpful so I kinda feel bad for not knowing her name. We go back to the couch because he's still there, then my supervisor comes up (always late) this time she has a smokers cough so we hear her before we see her - doesn't sound good. We do some more Biology stuff and she tells us to wait so we go back to the couch, this is all around the time he (that's how Stan will be referred to from here on out) decides to go back to the office. As he walks past I see a special glint in his eye, he can't resist: 'nice to see someone making good use of the couch' he says, he smiles so I smile (it's a bad habit, I smile stupidly like that all the time). I turn to look at Eleanor and we look out the window then back at each other, no words are necessary. He just made a 'sarcy' (sarcastic) comment!!! Was there any need? NO. He just couldn't help himself, from that we can tell that we are in his bad books and there's nothing we can do about it. We resign ourselves to not making eye contact with him to 'provoke' him.

After putting our flies into the fridge to make them sleep we head over to the office to analyze our data, get out as early as possible and stay out of his way - that's the plan. It works for a little while. The office is small and there are at least 6 people coming or going at a given time. We find ourselves a little corner and begin the analyses, all is going well when he walks in....we're on alert. He heads over to the corner they have set up as the canteen, which happens to be exactly where I'm set up and wastes no time in seizing the opportunity to remark. I don't mind what he says, it's how he says it; he tells us to move up so as not to obscure the canteen, that's fine. And then he shoos us away, the way you shoo a pet away from your food, as though we are beneath him and need to be shooed as opposed to being told. If you could see the way the professor scoffs up his food you would understand that the canteen means a lot to him (it's kind of surprising considering he's a thin, wiry specimen of a man). We move, what else are we supposed to do? A while later the office fills up, people are eating and talking, I might add, and he is oblivious......when it suits him; he doesn't tell them that this is a place of work and not chatting. Eleanor realises that we are not gonna leave before 3pm so it would be best to go get lunch, we tell our supervisor, take our money and we are on our way.

Eleanor takes me to this secluded restaurant called The Jasmine Kitchen, the place is great because it's like a secret - only known to a select few. The staff are friendly and the food is good, I forget the name of what I ordered but I know it's chicken with rice and broccoli (I love broccoli because they look like little trees) and carrots and crispy fried golden shallots and Coke. After we lick the bowls clean (not really) we head back with heavy feet. When we get back to the office everyone's back to work, thank god, and so we get back to our work.

The hours drag on, Eleanor goes to pee and I carry on creating PDF's of my analyses. He walks in again and he's getting something at the canteen, again, and I try to honour the promise I made with Eleanor when he shooed us away: 'don't make any eye contact whatsoever'. I try to keep my eyes on the computer whilst I am urging, willing the Adobe to get it over and done with. I can feel his eyes borrowing a hole into my head, he's wondering why I'm not typing....ehh 'because I'm waiting for Adobe to make the PDF file!!!!!' I resist the urge to shout, no bark that at him, instead I avert my eyes trying to look interested at anything else in the room. It works and he leaves when his food/drink is ready......phew. We work until 7 pm doing little bits and pieces.

As we walk to the station it feels like we're 7 year olds, just let out of school for home-time. We talk about the day and how funny our supervisor can be consciously and unconsciously, how much worse he's gotten. We head home not to think about the professor ever again.............until Monday that is.

Girls do the funniest things

I went to an all-girl Catholic school for 5 years of my life, within that situation I met I range of girls. Some were ghetto in a dangerous way; a classmate once actually set fire to the school toilet, which promptly resulted in her exclusion from the school; some couldn't be further from the word ghetto and some were ghetto only in humour. This was the majority because St. Angela's was a school sustained by African and Carribean students; in Newham, London you wouldn't expect anything else. There was a small minority composed of the remnants of Cockney East-End London, those girls were what you would envisage when you think of England. I probably didn't fit into any category because my first 6 years of life were spent in Ghana with Ghanaian peers and the Ghanaian school system (basically you get caned if you disobey a teacher, caned if you don't learn quickly enough, caned just because.......cane, cane, cane). I wasn't an outcast but I wasn't in the in-group either.

Out of all the girls I encountered in secondary school one person explicitly stands out, purely because she was a contrast..........she was ghetto (at times), she was an atheist (all of the time), she was a theologian, she was well read and she knew it. Some would call her a snob because of it. For me intimidating springs to mind, I imagine that her name was synonymous with bitch because she did have a chip on her shoulder. If I hadn't been in the same class as her for 5 years I would have been indifferent in regards to Chontel, and that would mean that I would quickly put her out of my mind - she would be negligible. When you actually got beneath her veneer she was really easy to talk to, she could take a joke, she could be sweet....but she marched to the beat of her own drum; mainly because she was, I suspect, just as unfit as I was.......still am.

In university there are more people and less confined spaces, you don't have to talk to people you don't want to or simply make nice anymore. For the first time however, I've met snobs.......they're annoying, pretentious and mostly girls. In the university subculture you find most people diverge according to their race: the South Asians (Indian, Bangladeshi, Pakistani) who are given the option of Doctor, Engineer, Lawyer while they were in the womb by their parents. Followed on by the Asians mostly Chinese and finally you have the English country girls, by country I mean there's lots of greenery.

Of the South Asian girls there are those who are insanely loud and chatty and often given the evil eye as a result.......but what do they care, they sit in the back of the lecture theater (like me), ignore the lecturer (like me) but they like school (unlike me) - it's like a playground for them. They are okay to talk to, for a short time, because they are actually willing hold a conversation; you'll quickly get bored and they'll quickly get distracted. When you see them you acknowledge them then go about your business. The studious, sensible subgroup of them know you only when convenient, case in point Meera: I met her at the beginning of my university life, I don't think we hit it off but I made sure to acknowledge her when I saw her because I still remembered those early days when we walked around like headless chickens grabbing onto any and every friendly face we saw (it was a lawless time). I'm not worth recognition anymore, according to her.........but when she needs a slide of drosophila embryo she suddenly knows me again. They're interesting like that...........they are opportunists to the core....ugh, nothing disgusts me more. These subgroups are distinguished by their make-up, the chatty girls with the attention span of fruit flies wear bucket-loads of eye make-up, Kajal, Kohl etc. They don't seem to mix, the chatty and the studious.

I mentioned earlier about the Asians, we have (as far as I can tell) Chinese and Japanese students in our university. They have their own distinctive wardrobes and love of the peroxide, the Chinese girls favour kitten heels and bejewelled denim. The Japanese girls are a rarity, I don't know why and of the few I have seen, Keds are a big hit........girls after my own heart.

Finally, we have the English country girls, unfortunately the girl in question shares my name....yes, she's an Annabelle (don't know how she spells it though, I'm fussy abut stuff like that). I've gone through most of my life being the only Annabelle so I was curious when I found out there were 2 of us. She's autistic, not really, but isn't that what you call a person who lacks 'theory of mind'. A person who speaks sooo (extra o's) loudly you know - even if you don't want to - that over the holidays at, get this, MUMMY and DADDY's she drank a whole bottle of wine to herself, I'll let you take that in...........a) who gives a shit!!!, b) she's an alcoholic - who drinks a whole bottle of anything by themselves and c) who gives a shit!!!!!!!!! I soon awarded her the title of 'the Real Uggs'; over in England there has been this phenomenon over some thick Australian Farmer looking boots called Uggs. I've never donned on a pair because I think boots are the devil (I like them on other people but not on me). They're pretty expensive to buy over here but they're damn cheap in Australia, and because of that most students buy the cheap equivalents here, she wears the real ones so to me she's a 'Real Uggs'. Along with the Uggs they (the Real Uggs, there are more than one) dress like they're ready for action, I don't mean for sex, I mean action........like they could climb up Mt. Snowdon at a drop of a hat.

Settling with Stan

So, as you can see I have re-vamped my background theme and I know what your thinking 'this isn't like a fireworks display seen through the eyes of a short-sighted person'. It's what I settled on after my cousin stopped answering my e-mails. I don't want to make a habit of writing such short posts but I thought it would be best to explain the differences in my background descriptions.

Back to the joys of Drosophila, Stan's my third year project person (haven't quite figured out the best way to address him), as friendly and laid back as he tries to come off he's pretty rigid. My project partner Eleanor and I were sitting idly in the lab office waiting for a data analysis program to be uploaded onto our laptops, so we did what most 20 year old students would do in that situation...we talked about Robert Pattinson. We were not loud and there were 2 other adults, who if they needed to could have told us we were being too loud, present. In walks Stanewsky, who recognizes us for the first time in 3 meetings, he comes over to us and tells us that this is a place of work; a place of work with countless bottles of alcohol, full ones, empty ones, the place was full of them. He goes on to tell us that if we wanted to talk we should do so in the lab, huh... the LAB of all places. He says all of this with a smile on his face and adds that we can still talk if we want.....would you talk after your professor basically tells you that your being too loud according to him.........I don't think so. Even our supervisor thought he was being ridiculous. My aim know is to steer clear of him.

Waiting

It's my last free Sunday, from now on I must study earnestly. I must prepare for my resits (I'm not quite ready to talk about that situation yet), I must increase my kanji vocab......KYAAA :) and extra reading necessary for my third year project on Circadian clocks of Drosophila melanogaster....yay (can you feel the joy). Obviously learning learning Japanese is the best part of my summer plans, the only problem with learning a language by yourself when your a Ghanaian with no Japanese friends is that you don't have anyone to practise with........wnd we all know "Practise makes perfect". I guess you would be thinking why doesn't she just make a Japanese friend....but for a shy, modest lass like myself it's not an option, I'm not that extroverted. Maybe it's my Catholic School upbringing but that would be a lie because I barely believe in God, maybe it's due to my unbalanced rearing; somewhere, somehow I got really withdrawn and lost my spark........alas that is the biggest tragedy of my life........so far??????

There are so many things Japan represents for me; I get to be independant by living alone and all that jazz, learning a new language because speaking as a Biologist that hates Biology or any science for that matter, I am not planning on having a career in it. Why did I commit myself to this degree.....that's another story for another time. I get to meet with people and a culture completely different to anything I have ever known. This is my first ever blog so if only 1 person reads it I would say thank you and sorry for being so scattered.