How to waste a lot of time, but still get shit done

Seriously needing to do something about this snooze button situation. May have to move the clock across the room. UGH, I HATE DOING THAT.

Today was mostly focused on getting to the BFI (British Film Institute, for those of you who didn't take notes yesterday, shameful) library so that I could scan all those pages of research. Remember how I was supposed to bring along my USB drive this time so I wasn't wasting my time looking up all that stuff? Yeah, I didn't either until about twenty minutes into my studies. After much headdesking, I made the hour-long commute back home, grabbed the USB drive, then made the hour-long commute back to BFI.

Finally I could get down to business! It was a full-on musical montage of poring through dusty books and cataloged magazines and harried librarians digging through basements stack for missing back-issues of Fangoria and jotting of careful notes. Finally I had my material all picked out and ready for scanning. This was when I found it that they charge for scanning. Something nobody had bothered to let me know about before this.

Keep in mind, I'm absolutely broke. Like, £.17 in my bank account and £.34 in my pocket broke. The cost for scanning? £.20 per page.

Needless to say, I could only clutch my head as the librarian announced that the library would be closing in half an hour. All this work, all this ridiculous commuting back and forth, for nothing.

Then I glanced at my phone. My phone with the camera setting. My camera, which was kind of like a scanner.

YES.

So it's not a perfect solution, and I'll be squinting a lot while I read my materials, but 165 photos later I have what I need, now transferred from my phone to my laptop. Take that, British Film Institute.

Random observation of the day: Some people just do not get the whole stand-on-the-right, walk-on-the-left escalator rule. Mostly those people are tourists with suitcases and oblivious stares. If you come to London, for the love of all that is holy and unholy, do not stand on the left when riding an escalator. You will incite the silent, tutting rage of countless London commuters stuck behind you, unable to do anything because they are too polite to ask you to move.

Just a little bit of culture shock

I'm nearly two months into my London Adventure and I've yet to update. See, it turns out there's so much cool stuff I want to talk about that I started to get overwhelmed by it. Every time I think of updating this blog I basically just freeze up with all the things I want to tell you.

The solution to this problem is that I'm just going to do a quickie update now, and then try to post small, frequent updates from now on. Although I've not experienced much culture shock, there's still little things I see everyday that make living here really fascinating and amazing. So I'll talk about the little things.

My one big moment of culture shock was actually related to school supplies. Somehow I just never imagined that school supplies would be different here, but they are. It all came to a head over folders. You know, these things:

The things that cost 50 cents and hold all your loose papers for class and generally are just a total staple of school shopping? They don't exist here.

I went into a bit of a panic. How am I supposed to organize handouts? Where am I supposed to put things? WHAT THE HELL DO STUDENTS DO HERE??? I was getting seriously overwrought over fucking folders.

Don't worry, it all came out alright. After what seemed like a ridiculous amount of internet research, I found these:

They're called "document wallets" and they basically saved my sanity. Since then it's been pretty smooth sailing in the school supplies department.

The Journey

I woke up at 6:30am on leaving day (Sunday) so that I could make sure all of my stuff was piled into one place before going to pick up the rental car. My lovely friend Lisa brought me to the airport to pick up the car from Alamo, which took no time since we were there at 8:00am on a Sunday morning (on Labor Day weekend). I headed back to the apartment to pick up my things & get the cats loaded. This took a bit longer than I anticipated because the cats were rather freaked out from the new roommate moving in the previous day. With help from Roomie, we managed to round them up and carry them out to the car. One of the travel crates went into the backseat with the door open, the other was taken apart and stuck in the trunk. One last hug from the Roomie and I set off to pick up Mom from my aunt's house.

(Aside... a few days previous Mom called and explained how she'd been so anxious about me driving to Denver on my own (because I've never driven across the country by myself, especially during the five years I lived in DC and drove back & forth to Minnesota twice a year /sarcasm), so she'd decided to get a one-way ticket from Denver to Minneapolis so she could drive down with me. I was sort of indifferent to the idea but thought she'd feel better about it so agreed immediately. By the time we separated at Denver airport, I was so ridiculously grateful that she was there. Moms are far more awesome than we give them credit for sometimes.)

Anyway, after a brief pause at the aunt's to transfer the last of my not-coming-with stuff (mostly bedding) to Mom's car, we set off. I had to pull over after half a block when I realized I'd left the directions in my carry-on, which was in the trunk. And then we were off!

Our route took us south into Iowa, across the whole of Nebraska, then into Colorado. Naturally we were driving the plains by day and didn't hit the Rockies until well after dark. The car's gas mileage was epic, nearing 40 miles/gallon. We only had to fill up three times, the final time right before dropping off. Not bad for a 14-hour drive. The first half of the drive was pretty uneventful except for the boys yowling offendedly for an hour or two. They spent the rest of the ride occasionally popping into the front seat to visit but otherwise quite calm. They even used the little disposable litter box I'd installed behind the driver's seat. In the last hour or so of the drive, they decided it was time for some lap cuddles. Luckily I was driving on a wide highway with cruise control, so they weren't too distracting. Fizzgig spent most of the hour on my lap as Mom fretted and tried to encourage him onto her lap instead. It was pretty much adorable.

At one point we passed through what appeared to be some sort of fog, but for some reason it smelled horrible. Like something had died, been eaten, then shit out, then eaten by something else and shit out again before whatever ate it died in the pile of shit. Seriously, it was horrible. The smell dissipated once we'd passed through the fog, but it still took ten minutes for it to fade entirely. We still have no idea what caused either the fog or the stench.

We spent the night at a hotel in Denver. I dropped Mom, the boys, and our luggage off and then drove out to the airport to return the car. Unfortunately there was a definite cat pee smell when I cleared everything out, so I stopped at a gas station near the airport where I vacuumed the car and hosed it down with Fabreeze, then drove around for a bit with the windows open. The Fabreeze bottle got left behind by the vacuum since I thought it would be a bit suspicious if I walked into the return office carrying it. I got a cab from the airport since the blasted hotel shuttle stopped running a few minutes after we checked in, stopping along the way for McDonald's provisions.

The next morning we loaded up the boys and got on the shuttle. The loud, rackety ride was far more traumatic for the cats than the 14-hour rental car trip was, which put me In A Mood. I did notice that the distant mountains (which I was seeing for the first time) looked more like a matte painting than reality, which would have been fascinating if I hadn't been in a state of growing anxiety over the cats. We brought them into the airport and took a half hour or so in a quiet spot to try to calm them down. Then we went to check in the luggage, where we found out that the cats had to be taken to a separate shipping facility south of the airport. My frustration growing, we went to find a cab who could hopefully find the way there and not traumatize my cats any further. I had a slight breakdown as we got in the cab, but between my mom and the ridiculously sweet driver, they had me laughing and somewhat less stressed by the time we arrived at the shipping place. The cats were whisked away rather abruptly, but I managed to hold it together. One of the gentlemen who worked there was ridiculously kind and gave us a ride back to the terminal in his personal truck. That was when I started to feel better about the boys, knowing they were in good hands.

Mom & I then had about two hours to hang out waiting for our flights. We found a surprisingly nice smoking lounge and spent our time there, chatting and laughing. We both managed to keep it together when it was time to say goodbye. We'd lingered in the smoking lounge long enough that I only had to wait about ten minutes to board my flight.

This is where the story gets really boring, because I was sitting on a flight for about seven hours. I watched The Hunger Games (finally), 500 Days of Summer, and other random stuff. I was sitting in an aisle seat because all the window seats were taken. I thought it might be a nice change, but it wasn't. Mostly I just got bumped into a lot. We landed in Iceland around 6:10am and I was already exhausted.

Then something kind of awesome happened. Because the gate we landed at happened to only be two down from the gate I would be taking off from, I wandered over to watch them offload luggage on the off chance I might be able to see the boys. And I did! I have to be honest, there was some mucus happening as I watched them load the crates onto a cart. I followed them as they were driven the short distance to the other gate and watched as they were loaded on the plane. It was a huge relief even though I couldn't actually see them inside the carriers, since one of my biggest fears about taking Iceland Air was that they would somehow neglect to be loaded onto the second plane with me. I was still smiling when we were ushered onto the flight an hour or so later.

The second flight was as uneventful as the first, but this time I had a window seat in the emergency exit row, so was considerably more comfortable. I also got a fantastic view as we descended over London; the Eye, the Shard, the Gherkin, Big Ben & Parliament, Tower Bridge & the Tower of London... I could make them all out in miniature below as we circled around to the airport. My forehead was all but glued to the window.

The happy didn't end there though... once we were landed and engaged in the impatient shuffle-wait that is part of disembarking any plane, I looked out the window in time to see the luggage conveyor pulling up. I kept watching, thinking there was no way I'd still be on the plane in time to see them taken off, surely they'd be the last ones off like in Iceland... then down the belt came two familiar crates. I was literally hands-plastered-to-window as I looked, because I could actually see them this time, see their heads moving anxiously to follow the sounds around them. See, the biggest fear I had in bringing them over was of course that they wouldn't survive the flight. That there may be just too much stress and things could go terribly wrong. But I could see, before I even got off the plane, that they were alive and well (if very, very pissed off). As I write this now, one is snoozing away next to me while the other munches cat food out of their new bowl.

Next there was the business of customs and border patrol, which was entirely painless. I chatted with the officer about school as he stamped my Visa and sent me on my way. Both of my bags showed up on the carousel and I whisked them through the "Nothing To Declare" queue because I definitely did not have a carton & a half of cigarettes nestled away in one of them. I got a cab to the Animal Reception Centre, which (as it says on the tin) was where I'd be collecting the boys. Procedure/paperwork went flawlessly but took nearly four hours (which I'd been prepared for). While there I chatted with some fellow Americans who had been on the same flights with me from Denver. Once I finally had the boys, we took a cab to our new home in the south of London. The ride took about an hour and was mostly on the small and rather terrifying streets of the city rather than on any highway. I was pretty well knackered by then (hello, British slang!) and just sat back to enjoy the scenery.

We arrived at the house, where I was greeted by my lovely friend/Sis Suzanne, right about 6pm London time. Subtracting six hours for the time difference, this made our trip just about fifty hours.

Next: settling into life in London.

ZOMG I'M LEAVING TOMORROW AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

Here it is, folks. The countdown timer on my laptop is currently at 10 hours, 51 minutes until departure at 9:00am tomorrow.

In my last post I talked about goodbyes. I've said most of them at this point and the odd thing is that I've been generally pretty unemotional about them. Not that they don't suck, it's just... I think I'm a bit numb right now. Even though I'm leaving tomorrow, even though I wasn't at Fest today, even though my entire life now consists of three bags and two cat kennels, it doesn't feel real somehow. It feels like I'll be seeing everyone next week or next month. It feels like I'll be sitting on this couch again next month. That I'll be going back to work on Monday. That nothing's changed. To be honest, I don't know when it'll truly hit me; maybe not until I wake up in my London bed for the first time with my cats piled on top of me.

Meanwhile, it's been a hell of a week.

This was the final week of preparation, most of it involving hoop-jumping for the cats' travel and packing/purging/moving of stuff. Not to mention some final socializing. What has amazed me the most about it all is probably the fact that I actually got everything done on time. Today I did little more than stay out of the way as roomie's new roomie moved in. It was kind of nice considering how exhausted I am from everything this week, both physically and emotionally.

Mom's decided to accompany me on the drive to Denver, which rocks for both of us. Meanwhile I'm just here on the couch with nervous kitties all around me, ready to pass out for the night.

I may post from Denver tomorrow night if a)anything interesting happens on the way and b)I'm not totally bushed from the drive. If not, next post will likely involve a lot of incoherent squeeing from London. Wish me luck!

The goodbyes begin...

There are moments when the time before I leave seems to move at a glacial pace; at other times I feel like I'm sprinting keep up with it.

Life As Usual has begun to wrap up. I finished at one of my jobs last Friday, and today is the final day at my other job. I had the usual amazing time at the Renaissance Festival over the weekend, now this weekend will be my last. I have a feeling this Sunday is going to be a bit tearful.

The upcoming week will consist mostly of finishing up the packing/purging/storing process, along with some last-minute appointments for Operation Brit-Kittehs and a bit more of seeing people. The Friday before I go will involve a 21st Anniversary celebration of me and the BFF's friendship, followed by hanging out with my mom on Saturday. I can't really imagine a better way to spend my last few days here.

I don't feel stressed about the move, but there's some physical symptoms cropping up anyway. Fatigue, stomach issues, even an epic herpes outbreak (relax, it's just a cold sore. A giant motherfucking cold sore that covers most of my lower lip aaauugghhh). I seriously believe if not for the Citalopram, I would be a hot mess right now. I mean... even more than I am.

Meanwhile, my closet and dresser are currently empty because I did (another) practice pack, this time using my two new duffel suitcases. I made a huge dent in my Pile 'o' Crap as well, which is an awesome relief. All that's left to do is fully conquer the Pile, pack up the non-bedroom stuff (movies, books, and dishes), and haul it all over to Mom's. If all goes as planned, it'll be done by next week Friday.

The next post will likely be titled ZOMG I'M LEAVING TOMORROW AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! See you then!

Operation Brit Kittehs is a go!

Operation Brit Kittehs has finally (FINALLY) gotten settled.

As I mentioned in my last post, the plan has officially become a drive to Denver the day before my flight, which has now moved to September 3rd. After several phone calls and extended emails, all I could manage to wrestle out of Iceland Air was a free change of itinerary. I tried for a hotel voucher, maybe some discount with the rental car, but it was a no-go. Either a full refund and I'm on my own finding a ticket at least $1000 more expensive, or they could do that one-time flight change. By the time we got to that point, I was so worn down I was just happy not to have to pay any more for the change. The moral of this story is, airlines suck - but at least Iceland Air sucks a little less than others.

Meanwhile, the cat kennels have been ordered (along with various accoutrements from an awesome website called dryfur.com, who are experts in helping prepare kennels and pets for travel). The boys will be traveling separately rather than smooshed into one larger kennel, not only because it's a bit cheaper but because they'll be more comfortable that way. Not to mention it'll be less of a hassle trying to fit them in the rental car. They've done long drives before (moving from DC to Maine, then from Maine to Minnesota) so the one-day drive to Denver shouldn't bother them too horribly. Plus we get a night in a hotel for them to chill before we go on to the airport. Not that they're going to enjoy it, but it'll also help that I'll be with them most of the way.

Which pretty much leaves my to-do list with pack/purge, cancel cell phone, and get the boys their final check-up before the flight. It's a bit weird to see all those tick marks on my list and know that from this point on it's mostly just basic moving stuff and saying goodbye to everyone. I'll be paying my last rent check in the US today. I mean, weird. Even though it got pushed out a week, it's still really damn close. And it's really actually happening.

I've been watching the Olympics quite a bit, not so much for the sports (although I do like gymnastics and diving) but for the London love. Olympic Village is only about a mile from my school, Queen Mary University. In fact, I believe the dorms are even being used by some of the Olympics people. Plus I just adore every shot of the city; at one point I simply stared and breathed "I'll be living there soon." For all the difficulty I've had making this happen (most of it related to Operation Brit Kittehs), it's so very worth it. I can't wait.

Some good news, some headdesk-worthy news

We'll start with the news that had me slamming my head against my desk today. It's all about Operation Brit-Kittehs.

When I cancelled my Delta flight and booked through Iceland Air, I made sure beforehand to call IA, as well as British Customs and the animal control people at Heathrow, just to make sure this would be fine. I was assured numerous times, after explaining my trepidation following the Delta incident, that Iceland Air would transport my boys in the cargo hold per the rules of British Customs. So I made my reservation and began shopping for an appropriately-sized kennel for the cats.

Today I called IA to officially book the boys on the flight. The woman I talked to said it was done, that I was to bring them to the baggage counter the day of the flight and pay the extra cost then. All was right with the world.

Then I got a phone call.

Turns out I had to do the actual booking through the cargo department, so I was given another number to call. Needless to say, I could feel something wasn't right. I called the cargo department, and after a protracted and hideously frustrating conversation, was told that the only (ONLY) city in the U.S. that they don't ship cargo from? You guessed it. Minneapolis. And the nearest city they do ship cargo from? Denver. The one in fucking COLORADO.

This is where the headdesking began.

Grinding my teeth, I called the reservation line back and got another woman on the line, who was absolutely flabbergasted by this news. So much so that she took my number down and promised to call me back tomorrow once she'd sorted this all out. I do kind of love her right now. However, I don't hold any delusions at this point that I'm going to be able to bring my cats with me from Minneapolis to London.

So now we're on to plan... I don't know, R, maybe?

After spending most of my afternoon researching online, I decided my best bet is going to be switching my IA flight from Minneapolis to Denver. Then, because no flights, trains, or buses going that route are willing to let me bring two cats on their vehicles, I will rent a car and fucking drive to fucking Denver with my fucking cats. Because yes, it is that important to me to bring them. And it will still be far cheaper than having a company ship them for me.

The only sticky part of this plan is how much I can wring out of IA. I fully expect a free change of my flight. I'm hoping for perhaps a hotel voucher in Denver since the fourteen-hour drive means I'll need to spend the night at the airport rather than driving all night to make a 5:00pm-ish flight. What I'm going to try extra hard for is to get them to foot the bill for the rental car. I'm guessing that will be a no, but I'm sure as hell going to try.

Also, maybe a bump up to first class. I mean, c'mon people!

Fear not, there's still good news. It starts with a UPS "we missed you!" note on my door Monday evening. I thought it was a package related to something else, so sort of forgot about it until the "um, hallo? Y U NO HOME?" notice I found on Tuesday. I decided to just work my way to the UPS store via eleventeen buses to pick it up myself, since they apparently only deliver during work hours and insisted on getting my signature.

Eleventeen buses and a mile or so walk to the UPS place later, I was surprised to be handed a shipping envelope rather than a package.

It can't be my visa, I thought. They said they'd email me when it was approved or denied. Plus I'm supposed to arrange payment for a courier to deliver it to me.

I poked at the envelope enough to determine the contents were decidedly passport-sized. I immediately ripped it open, pulled out what was indeed my passport (still not lost in San Diego or Louisville, thank goodness), and began to thumb through the pages.

There it was. One page thirteen. (Because OF COURSE page thirteen.) My Tier 4 student visa, pasted to the page, valid from August 17, 2012 to August 17, 2013.

Operation Gief Citizenship is officially a success.

This was the last hurdle in getting me to the UK for a year. I got accepted to Queen Mary, got my financials sorted, kept my grades up, did all the paperwork (ALL the paperwork), and now I'm 100% official.

I think we'll leave it on that extremely happy note. Hopefully there will be another satisfied update on Operation Brit-Kittehs soon.

The to-do list is slowly shrinking...

Ever wondered what it takes to move countries for a year and bring your cats along?

A LOT OF ORGANIZATION.

Operation Purge and Pack made some impressive headway over the last week or so. I have successfully culled my wardrobe down to only what I'm bringing with me (with the exception of a few items which I'm hanging onto for sentimental value). Half of my dresser is empty, ditto closet. No more piles of clothes laying around waiting to be sorted. I threw away a few bags of stuff that was too old or beat up for donation. The rest went to Goodwill.

I made some headway with storing books as well. I loaded up ten of these with most of my bookshelves:

As we use up more litter I'll finish up the books. The first ten are already living in Mom's garage. The empty shelves make me feel trés accomplished. Not to mention my brilliant re-purposing of litter buckets. Mum was also kind enough to buy me half a dozen plastic bins to store my movies and any other miscellany that I have room for. I have a box of those big black trash bags for storing pillows/blankets/etc in. I'm even working on a list of my furniture to determine what's going where. I am all over this shit.

Operation Brit-Kittehs is also cranking along nicely. I'm making final preparations with both the airline and the customs agent who is going to make sure everything runs smoothly once we arrive at Heathrow. The customs agent is going to cost me around $700, which is a vast improvement over the $4000 I was quoted for the whole package. I still have to buy a kennel, but I've got it narrowed down to a few choices. My main point of frustration is that the size I want to get is 1/2" too wide by the airline's standards. The next smaller size just doesn't look comfortably large enough for my two big boys, so I'm going to talk to the airline and see if I can squeak by with that extra half-inch before I actually buy the thing. Unfortunately the industry standard sizes are all pretty much the same (er... obviously), so I might be stuck with something a bit less comfortable if the airline gets sticky about it. If it has to happen, I'll just make the space as comfy as possible for them. Hell, maybe they'll even feel better in a smaller, cozier space.

Operation Gief Citizenship hasn't changed yet. I'm checking my email obsessively in hopes of getting some news soon, but there's still nearly two weeks before I have to start worrying. Which doesn't stop me from worrying, of course.

Cool, now I can check off "update blog" from my to-do list.

Operation Update Blog is a go!

Operation Study Abroad update will commence in T-minus three... two... one... BLEEP!

In spite of the universe throwing roadblocks all over my plans, things are coming along nicely. BRING IT, UNIVERSE. I CAN TAKE IT. Just let me knock on this wood right here and cross all appendages and also go hunting for a four-leaf clover...

One of the big things that happened since last we spoke is that I sent off my visa application. My passport is currently hanging out at the British embassy in New York, where it will hopefully return to me soon with a nifty little card or sticker or something indicating I'm a temporary citizen of the United Kingdom. So far the only news I have is that they received it and thus I can stop fretting that the USPS dropped it somewhere in Salt Lake City or Miami, never to be seen again. My only real worry for the application is all those fields I had to mark "unknown" in the "Father's Information" section; it held me up once before, I can only hope it doesn't delay things this time.

The saga of Operation Brit-Kittehs continues. I contacted some transport companies, and after one quote back at $4000 (FOUR! THOUSAND! DOLLARS!), I decided to just go back to plan A. I cancelled my Delta flight (got about half my money back, which I count as a win after all the runaround I got) and booked with Iceland Air instead - after calling everyone ever associated with either Iceland Air and/or British Customs to make sure they were really going to allow my cats on the plane and then back off it. As of right now I just need to choose a kennel for the boys and attempt to weigh them so I can get that info to the airline, then book with a company right at Heathrow that does Customs clearance for pets; not for free of course, but presumably for considerably less than FOUR! THOUSAND! DOLLARS!.

Much less exciting is the beginning of Operation Purge or Pack. (Yes, every aspect of this will now have an "Operation Official Name" tag. The visa application will henceforth be referred to as Operation Gief Citizenship. I make my own fun.) The roomie was kind enough to loan me a ginormous suitcase for the duration of my stay, so I decided to practice pack. Yes, I know. It's insane. I'm comfortable with that.

I've got about four trash bags full of clothes to donate, and I haven't even gone through my dresser yet. Once the clothes are done, step two will be tackling the general crap that I keep in piles because it's my stuff and I don't know what else to do with it. Some will be boxed up, most will go in the trash.

That's about it for Operation Study Abroad news. I know I'm not updating that often, but that should change as I get closer to my takeoff date... which is less than seven weeks away now. Stay tuned for more updates!

The Perils of Operation Study Abroad

Every time I think I've gotten things taken care of and under control, another wrench comes flying in.

Things that have gone wrong, and how I've managed to work them out:

I was told I couldn't/shouldn't bring my cats.
When I told my Study Abroad counselor that I planned to bring my cats with me, he just stared at me blankly before informing me that no other student he knows of has ever brought pets along. I smiled and assured him that I'd be the first then.

I learned the intensely complicated procedure for bringing my cats.
Microchipping, vaccinating, examining, getting paperwork signed by not only vets but government officials (the Food and Drug Administration of all things), not to mention finding an approved route and airline and dealing with the cargo situation and proper kenneling and the $200-400 fee. All of which has been going swimmingly: microchips and vaccinations done, arranged the rest with the vet and planned to shop for kennel, found an airline that was supposed to be pet friendly... more on that later.

I was told it would be difficult to find a place to live (see above re: cats).
This was actually a major concern, since I wasn't sure what I could afford for rent, how to find someone who wouldn't mind the cats, etc. Then one day my lovely friend who already lives in London came along and offered her guest room for reasonable rent. Solved! That's one I'm so very grateful I didn't have to work out on my own.

When I had my financial aid meeting, I found out I'd be getting about 1/3 of the money I thought I would.
This was one of the worst moments. I came really close to actually passing out from shock in the financial aid counselor's office. After I recovered and started pulling my brain back together, I knew I'd have to find someone to help me cosign a loan so I would have enough money. I started calling family members and eventually landed one who agreed. Sorted! Or so I thought...

Because I later found out that said family member could only sign for half the amount I need.
While anything is good, realistically the loan needs to be the full amount. Even with the visa which gives me the ability to work while I'm there, I'd probably be scrounging for food within two months. So I dialed up my courage and asked a friend if they would cosign for the full loan. Wonderfully, they said yes. Sorted again!

I got a call yesterday informing me that the airline I booked my ticket with (KLM, but really Delta) has abruptly changed their pet policy so that no pets can be transported in the cargo hold.
Because I have two cats and they both weigh around 17 pounds, they can't be in the cabin with me. Which means they won't be traveling with me on that airline. This is so intensely frustrating because I was quite happy with my non-stop flight (for the kitties' sanity as well as my own) and that's the only non-stop from here to London. The flight was also extraordinarily cheap because I got it through this student travel website, so the additional $200 to cargo them was tolerable. Now I'm faced with a few possibilities: Delta may be dicks and refuse to refund me for the flight, which means I'll have to potentially pay an extra $2000 to have them shipped by a company that specializes in pet transport. The other possibility is that Delta won't be dicks and will refund my money, meaning I'll have to get another flight altogether, this one including a stop somewhere that will make it more stressful for all of us. Not to mention the flight will probably cost double what I paid for the Delta flight because I'm not sure if I can trust the student travel website to get me a on a flight which allows pets. I'm seething about this because it was all sorted, but thanks go some arbitrary policy change on the part of the airline, it will most likely end up costing me a hell of a lot more than it was going to.

Alright, let's try to shake it off for now. Shake it off. I said shake it off, dammit.

Some of the things that have gone right:

I got into school, got really good grades, and got accepted to the program.
Study Abroad isn't why I decided to go to school. But it's a massive bonus. And my grades are all mine, something for me to be proud of.

The visa process has turned out to be infinitely less complicated than I first thought.
This is partly because I read too much into it and assumed the worst. The money part of the process, which I was sweating over for months, turned out to be not only far easier than I thought, but even somewhat unnecessary. All I need is a letter from my home school saying I'm being offered X amount of money and I only need it "just in case" since it doesn't actually have to be turned in with my application. As of now I have the two main things I need, which is a special number from my host school and the aforementioned letter from my home school. The application itself has to wait another week before it can be filled out due to this 90-day thing. But all in all, pretty easy (if not cheap, at around $450).

I've managed to jump over every hurdle thrown in front of me so far.
As horribly frustrating as all of those things in the first list are, there's always been a way to get past/around/through it by doing the work or swallowing my pride or putting my head down and plowing through. I think I have to thank the meds for some of that... I know damn well that I would have spun right into a fatalistic depressive episode during a few of those hurdles without it.

After all the things I've dealt with already, the visa application is what has me trembling in my boots... what if something goes wrong? I'll feel a lot better once I've got the thing in my hand. I'll feel even better once I've got this latest wrinkle with the cats smoothed out. But I won't be able to relax 100% until me and the boys arrive at our new home in south London. When that happens, I'm pretty sure I'll just hug my new bedroom floor for a few hours. Hopefully with my cats trampling anxiously over me every few minutes.

Ah, what a lovely thought to end this report. Over and out!

Let the countdown begin...

Oh hello! (I said that in a British accent, just so you know. Practice!) Today marks 90 days until I leave for London.

I know I haven't posted much lately, but to be honest there's not a lot to talk about yet. I'm in a bit of a holding pattern right now, working two jobs and trying to spend as little money as possible so I can keep my savings account as close to its current balance as possible until I leave. The next step is to apply for my student visa, which can't be done until three weeks from now. That will probably be slightly exciting, so expect a post on that in the near future.

The thing I haven't touched yet is the packing/storage task. Which I could start anytime I want. Except that I don't want to, of course, because UGH, who wants to deal with that? I'm going to force myself to start writing small tasks related to that on my To-Do List sooner rather than later though. Because in spite of the OMG SO MUCH WORK factor, it's going to be one of the most tangible things I can do until I actually leave, which should send me into a lovely spiral of excitement.

Please do leave any advice/thoughts/suggestions for storing/packing your life away for a year in the comments. Although I've obsessed on this subject extensively for months, I'm a fan of advice.

Cheers!

Adventures in paperwork

I've been rather steamrollered by end-of-semester preparation madness, so apologies for taking ages to update.

It's been a crazy few weeks since I got my confirmation letter. The amount of paperwork one must do to study abroad for a year is staggering. I've filled out and signed and consulted and been advised. I'm still not done, but I'm getting there. On top of that I've been trying to keep up with all the homework involved in the approaching finals (week after next OMGWHUT). Thanks to my Very Special OCD To-Do Lists I've managed to pretty much keep on top of things.

Along with all the preparation, I got some awesome news and some terrifying news. The awesome news is that my dear friend who lives in south London offered me her spare bedroom for extremely reasonable rent. Which means not only do I have a place to live, it's cat-friendly and it's with someone I've known and loved for the better part of two decades.

I also bought my plane ticket, which was only $731 for a one-way non-stop flight thanks to a lovely student travel website. This is excellent news not only because I prefer non-stop flights (hell, who doesn't?) but for my poor cats who are going to be in Quite A State during the trip, much less so now that they won't have to take off and land twice with a plane switch in the middle. I unfortunately can't sedate them for the ride (totally not good for them), but I may do so for myself considering I'll be stressing out through the whole flight worrying about them. Hope they have cheap booze on the flight...

Now for the less pleasant news: I found out rather too late that the amount of financial aid I thought I would be getting is in fact going to be about 1/3 of that amount. I think I actually almost passed out in the poor financial aid counselor's office when I heard that. Like, I got really cold and numb for about five minutes and couldn't do anything but sort of mutter in her general direction. By the end of the meeting I'd rallied and decided I was determined to make this work. I ended up calling half my family to beg for a cosigner on a loan, and eventually got a very welcome yes. Also, just today I found out that my wonderful and lovely financial aid counselor had managed to tweak some of my current information to get me an increase in money.

The fortunate thing about the timing of this financial meeting (after I'd confirmed with the Study Abroad office and Queen Mary, micro-chipped and vaccinated my poor cats, told everyone I've ever met, secured a living situation, and bought my plane ticket) was that it didn't allow me to just think "oh well, it was a nice daydream while it lasted." Instead I dug in my heels and starting finding a way to make it work. With some help, I did. I'm a bit proud of myself, to be honest. Things really are changing for me, not only in terms of where I'm going to be and what I'll be doing, but my ability to handle adversity in a positive way instead of just sinking into depression.

I've gotten most of the paperwork done at this point. Now come the more tangible steps, like getting my student visa and consolidating/organizing/packing my belongings to be stored or brought along. I'll be doing the latter with the help of the brilliant Unfuck Your Habitat, who have already achieved the amazing goal of motivating me to make my bed everyday. (No, really. EVERY. DAY. If my mom reads this, she's going to have a stroke.)

Stay tuned for exciting cleaning and packing anecdotes!

An American GeekChick in London

I overslept this morning.

This isn't unusual. It also has almost nothing to do with this post. While hurrying around trying to get showered and dressed and groomed, I took a minute to check my email because I'd been informed prior to the weekend that I would be getting my response from Queen Mary in that format and had been poking my inbox obsessively for the past few days. As I started checking off the usual political newsletters and social change petition requests for deletion, my eyes bounced to this email's subject line:

STUDY ABROAD AT QUEEN MARY

Caps and all.

I calmly deleted the other emails and then hovered over that enticingly shouty subject line. My heart was pounding. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before lowering one shaking finger to click.

"I am delighted to be able to tell you that your application to study at Queen Mary, University of London, has been successful and I am pleased to make you an offer of a place."

I let out a breath I'd been holding for sixteen months. A breath I'd been holding since I decided to apply for the U of M with the intention of taking advantage of their Study Abroad program. Then I promptly got on every social networking site known to man and started screaming it all over the internets:

It's real. It's happening. I'm going to London.