SoHo, or, Quite Possibly the Most Fun Ever

Hello hello!

I know what you're thinking.  "Liz, your sense of direction must be really just atrocious.  SoHo is in NEW YORK.  As in NEW YORK CITY.  Not London."  Trust me, I know I'm about as directionally challenged as they come (I have about 6-8 blisters on my feet from wandering helplessly through the streets of London.  Honestly, how on earth do people know where they are ever??), but SoHo has a British Counterpart across The Pond.  And it is GLORIOUS.

Just outside of Tottenham Court Road is a whole world of chic and "buzzy" bars that were packed with  post-work people looking for a drink.  The entire street was filled with life, lights, and sound.  So you can imagine my surprise when my cousin stops in front of a door that looks like something out of a serial killer movie.  The door is painted black, nestled in between two Chinese places, the paint is peeling, you can see the rusted metal beneath.  There's no sign.  There's nothing marking this to be anything other than some kind of broom closet.  The door opens, you climb up a flight of stairs, and it's beautiful.  The ceiling is covered in black mirrors, there are candles flickering on low glass tables.  The stools are covered in a rich dark fabric, the bar itself is old wood with a marble top.  And the drinks. Oh the DRINKS, people!  It's miraculous.  They're amazing.  The combinations of flavors and liquors is astounding, they're smooth, they're not overly sweet or tart, they have things like egg white foam that has some kind of pepper sauce in it that perfectly balances the sweetness of the beverage it floats on.  The lighting is perfect, the music is perfect, everything is perfect.  It's unreal.

And from there, the evening only got better.  We ended up eating in a little mexican place (little is definitely used loosely) where you could play foosball while you wait.  Not only was it fun to revisit my childhood (we had a foosball table in the basement) but we totally OWNED.  Embarassingly.  Like 10-2, 10-4 kinds of just utter blow-outs. Poor guys never knew what hit them.  The food was great, I tried cactus for the first time which was not bad at all, but everything was just fun.  It was great to catch up with my cousin and spend some time with her.

Anyway, I'm exhausted, I didn't get in until late last night and couldn't fall asleep until closer to 5 AM.

XO all,

L

Good Morning, England!

Good Morning, England!

And what a morning it is.  It's a crisp 60 degrees out, blue skies with a light breeze.  It's perfect September weather here in London, and I couldn't have picked a better day to land.  In fact, while terrifying, this was quite possibly one of my best travel experiences via airplane (thank you British Airways.)  Besides having to walk through Luxury class, slightly less Luxury class, and Still-better-than-you class to Economy Cattle, the flight was really pretty wonderful.  Smooth flying, enough space (the middle person never showed.  Huzzah!), and we even landed 10 minutes early.  There was a fairly short wait to get onto the train that brings you to luggage claim, Border Patrol was a breeze, and both of my bags made the flight!  That's quite the improvement!

I can honestly say that I didn't really become excited about coming over until we were flying over Ireland (before that, I was asleep, and before that, I was a nervous wreck). Flying over the first of the British Isles was almost majestic.  It's so green here, and hilly.  There are just miles upon miles of what looks like nothing but patchwork farms and tiny towns, the roofs and windows twinkling in the early morning sunlight.  Then suddenly you're crossing the Irish sea, and then England appears.  Clouds pepper the sky, and fog clings in the nooks and crannies of the landscape like snow.  Cars start to appear, tiny and ant-like, crawling on their way to wherever they may be headed, towns grow and  become more frequent and the rivers become larger.  The rivers in and of themselves fit the landscape, twisting and turning with sharp curves like a ribbon doubled up upon itself, winding their way through the hills and valleys.  In all, England is beautiful.

I'm thrilled.

I have a few hours to kill until I can head into the city proper and examine my new home.  I think I'm going to like it :)

I hope all is well with everyone, I miss you all.

Love,
L

2012

Let's set the scene, shall we?

The walls are khaki, there are bits of paper tacked to them at odd angles.  Surrounding the monitor is an array of brightly colored post-it notes that have various reminders and procedures scribbled upon them.  It is 4:23, less than an hour untill we are free to go, my buddha cat on my computer smiles peacefully, reminding me to not be too impatient.  I've been here since 7:20.  My brain is frazzled, it's been undeniably slow, and all I can think about is going home and curling up with a good book and bowl of soup.

What I will be doing, instead, is trying to phrase just exactly why the field of conservation would benefit from training me.  Why I would be the best applicant, why I should be considered and accepted over the rest of my peers.

The truth of the matter is that I don't know if it will greatly benefit them.  I can't honestly say that I am better and more qualified than every other applicant on the market, and I certainly can't promise that I will change how conservation is perceived throughout the world.  All I can say is that it is what I love, it's where I feel the most at home, and right now that feeling is more important to me than anything else out there.  There are other people who feel the same way, this field does not call to people who want to roll in money or who want to slack off and get quick promotions.  It calls to those who want to be involved in what it is at its core. 

We all want to know that we matter, that some part of us will be passed on.  We want to be remembered, we don't want to fade away into nothingness (although Mayan predictions place this as the end of the world.  Who can blame someone having a little belief with all the weird weather and natural disasters we've been having recently).  I've decided that this year begins a change, a genuine one.  I will stop being afraid of failure.  Failure in itself can be both beautiful and useful.  Failure in jobs, failure in relationships, failure in experiences, we can all learn from it.  I've spent too much of my life being afraid of hoping for more than what I have, for really and truly going for what I want and not giving a damn if I don't succeed the first time. Or the second.

What Unemployment Means to Me

Hello All,

After wrapping up work a week and a half ago, I have come to the realization that I really, really need something to do on a daily basis.  I woke up this morning at 7:30 and laid in bed until 11.  Purely because I had nothing pressing to do and nowhere I needed to be.

This, to me, is unacceptable.  I'm a pretty productive person, and don't get me wrong, I do love a good lazy day, but I need something to get me to drag my butt out of bed in the morning. I know, there are a few things I could be doing, I could continue to go through my closet, maybe do some laundry, cancel my car insurance... but I still feel like I have so much time to get all of that done.

Basically, not having a job? Not nearly as cool as I thought it would be.  Maybe if I was at the beach all the time.  Maybe if I lived in a city and could just walk around for hours and see the people watch.  But in suburbia?  Forget it.  There are only so many times you can circle the mall before it's time to go home.

So, ladies and gentlemen, here is my recommendation to you:  Keep your jobs.  Or, find some way to fill your days, because this whole "free time" thing is just not up to snuff for me.

I'm going to go work on solving world hunger.  Or do some laundry.  Anything to make me feel like I've accomplished something today.

Later!
L