talent show!

A couple weeks back, my friend Laura asked me if I was going to the Talent Show semi-finals that our coursemate Bernard was in. I hadn't even heard of it but I dragged a few people with me and we went out for a short but highly entertaining show. 

Not everyone was great but all were entertaining. Particularly the emcee, whose horrendous jokes got progressively better as he got drunker throughout the night. There was a belly dancer who had giant shiny wings and a gaping belly button that was mesmerizing, a Palestinian-Iraqi rapper who goes by the name of Psycho Mo and is not a motherf***ing gangsta (his words, not mine. (and his censorship, not mine.)), and a comedian who I really just felt sorry for. Then there were the Hobos who weren't actually called the Hobos but they looked it and we are big fans of naming people things they are not. 

After the show, we ended up walking out in front of them and I turned around to say something to one of my friends only to find the Hobos and since I was walking backwards, I was staggering a bit but I still found it prudent to yell, "HEY! We voted for you! And I'm not drunk, I promise." They just kind of looked at me funny and then said something about trying for three years and getting nowhere. How sad.

The best two acts were an Irish guitarist named Eoin (pronounced Owen) and a duo that went by the Meadow Larks, one of whom is my friend Bernard. Who is made of awesome. Eoin and the Meadow Larks made it to the next round, the Finals, which took place tonight on Bonfire Night. 

Sadly, neither of them won but they did get to the top 3 (Eoin, third, Meadow Larks, second)! This is a video compilation of both their semi-final and finals performances, with a Chinese instrument player in between. Might I add that the Chinese guy introduced himself thusly: "This is called a [insert name of instrument]. It's from China. My name's Geoffrey and I'm from China too."

Ah, I love people.

Eoin is the solo guitarist and Bernard is the dark-haired guy in the duo (not the redhead, who is also awesome and named Kieran).

november 4th, 2008

Election night '08: possibly the most anticipated night all around the world in the last couple years (or, in some cases, the last eight years). 

This most decisive night happened to be during reading week which is kind of like a mid-semester break except no one really goes home and you're supposed to study. Which is why Becca and I decided it was just fine to stay up all night long to watch the Elections. I've been overcome with a bout of insomnia these last few days so I didn't find it difficult to stay up all night. 

We staked out the TV room from early on, wrapped in blankets and warm pjs. I was surprised by how nervous I was. I never expected to feel like I had that much of a part in American politics but I think the entire world was holding its breath with me this time. This night wasn't the most anticipated for nothing. 

People trickled in and out all night long, asking who was up, who had what state (if they understood the process), etc. We sat there, rearranging ourselves on the worn out couches, eating some popcorn, watching one girl paper maché a human body for architecture. 

It was 4am when the Election was decided, with Obama's electoral vote count well above 270. It was the most surreal moment of my life, how quickly it happened. It didn't give me time to process what was going on. And even when it hit me, I was still in a daze. 

Then I leapt on Becca, who had fallen asleep, and I shook her awake, yelling, "OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA." Her reaction was equivalent, one can only expect,  to that of 'who the hell is trying to rape me?' But once she recollected where she was and what she was supposed to be doing, she looked 'round and very very confusedly said, "Oh. yaaay." Then she sat up and we watched McCain give his concession speech and Obama his victory speech. Unfortunately, we did not stay up much past that to see Gordon Brown give two thumbs up in front of 10 Downing Street but we saw pictures of that in the morning.

I promptly sprinted down to my room to yell exclamation marks at my friends and have little IM celebrations with everyone in the States. And then I got a little sad.

I was sad that I wasn't spending what was possibly the most historical night of my life in the place where it was happening. That I didn't get to be in the middle of it, as it was happening, and to feel like I was part of something much bigger than myself, no matter how it would turn out in the future. Just to be in that moment is all that mattered. I felt kind of isolated, a distance away from it all. Which, geographically, I was but that made it all the more absolute. 

So while the rest of the world ran around in happiness (or in sadness), I sat back and watched. And while I'd much rather have been taking part, it was still alright because something right had shifted in the world. But even if it doesn't shift rightly for long, at least it had happened once, you know?

I think Obama can either mostly live up to expectation or fail spectacularly -- the world's critics won't let him settle anywhere in between. We'll see. For now, I'm happy.

amina

I have another introduction to make. When I first wrote about my dear friends at Gabs, this particular friend was still in her jetlag phase and therefore out of reach. She has since recovered and has taken up residence in my life like the termites nested in our wooden floors. Except with more cute. 

Amina is my other third, from Pakistan via England via Croatia via Nigeria. She's studying Management and lives on the top floor. We actually met on Facebook through the St Gabriel's Hall group. 

We talked quite a bit on the Face and then met a day or two after Amina's arrival in Manchester. Facebook always makes real life a little more awkward than normal so while we'd spoken a ton and had made plans to go shopping and knew each other's family histories, it was still weird meeting each other for realz. 

One day I came down to reception on my way out to drop something off at Stopford. Amina happened to be sitting on her own, just chillin'. Weirdo. Just kidding. I figured she had nothing better to do so I asked her if she'd like to come along for the walk and she said, "Yeah, sure, I have nothing better to do." I'm quite good at figuring things. Off we went, chatting a bit, strolling in the sun -- yes, I said sun -- to the medical building. I recall one of the things we talked about was the sun and how we were both so surprised to see it there after all the warnings we'd gotten from our families about how there will be NO SUNLIGHT EVER in Manchester. They lied.

Turns out Stopford was closed so we turned around and walked back. On the return, I recall asking her birthday and when I told her mine, she exclaimed that was her best friend's birthday too. I laughed and jokingly said, "Well maybe now I'll be your best friend!" She laughed too. Later she told me she thought I was a creep.

So while that errand was a total waste, it gave me the delightful chance of talking to Amina for the first time. If I only I knew what I was getting myself into.

Between the time of meeting Amina, Aamna and I have begun living with each other and getting married. Not necessarily in that order because we are good Muslims. Aamna, apparently, has also met Amina and thinks that Amina hates her. So I, being ever thoughtful and totally unaware of others' embarrassment, tell her she's being silly and tell Amina that Aamna thinks she hates her. Amina takes pity on Aamna and Facebook chats her up. At the moment of said chat's occurrence, Aamna bursts into my room yelling, "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU TOLD HER I THINK SHE HATES ME. NOW SHE'S PITY FRIENDING ME." 

She'll thank me later.

It was a few weeks later that Amina truly began to be our (Aamna & my) final third. She got over her jetlag and started coming down to the basement. Now she's an honorary basement member -- even her kitchen stuff has found its way to our cupboards. She lives in either my or Aamna's room, depending who's in and who's door is unlocked. It has gone so far that I have, I kid you not, walked into my room only to find Amina asleep in my bed. 

I am now quite used to finding people in my room/bed and it's actually kind of weird not to have had someone else living in my room for more than a day. Anyhoo.

Amina is hilarious and cute and has spread the arm-flapping dance of excitement to pretty much everyone who hangs out with her. We have hot cocoa together at midnight and share our chuttputty noodles. We have sleepovers in each other's rooms, use each other's stuff, and have conversations which no one else understands. We even refer to ourselves in the singular because we consider ourselves to be one person. We watch Indian movies together, she teaches me Urdu, I teach her Arabic. I hacked her Facebook profile more than once. She unsuccessfully tries to kick me and Aamna out of her room at 3am. (She actually really loves having us there but doesn't know how to express her deep emotions.) She gives me Pakindian music. I gave her my entire iTunes library. She even tells me that she logs into my library on the local internet connection everyday before anyone else so she can keep it on all day and she gets mad when she can't get on it because 5 people have already accessed it. (So far, I've identified 3 of the 5 people who log onto my library every day.)

Amina is just a part of Aamna and me. Everyone knows that if you're looking for one of us, you might as well look for the other two. People looking for Aamna stop at my room first. We've merely extended our marriage to include Amina and now she's quickly becoming us too. It's only slightly disturbing. We love her anyways. <3

what i've learned so far

I have almost gotten run over by a car twice in the same spot, while I was walking on the sidewalk. If I stand too close to the edge as a speeding bus passes, I will get hit. I have come to the realisation that the British make no distinction between the actual street and the sidewa-- ahem, I mean the pavement-- and pedestrians are simply insignificant roadblocks. 

I am not kidding. And I think this has something to do with j(ay?)-walking being allowed here. They should probably rethink that.

And British people only ever run to catch a bus.

There is no English other than British English. Sulfur is spelled with a 'ph,' color has a 'u' in it, and fetus is actually 'foetus.' Most importantly, aluminium = ah-loo-min-EE-um. Anything you have previously learned, any words or spellings you use in "American" English, is wrong. Get it right. (But in my book, the word 'emu' is still open to debate. How would YOU pronounce the ambiguous name of that flightless Australian bird?)

It is always tea time. No matter what point of the day: here, have some tea. We folks down in the basement have taken that time to be 2am. And I wonder why I find it so difficult to wake up for 9am lectures. 

But the biggest secret of all, I divulge to you now: There are such thing as nice, amicable British people! Who knew? But don't tell them I told you. They have reputations to uphold.

Oh and they actually have autumn here! Mmmmm.

oxford revisited

If you know me at all, you know that my summer abroad program(me) at Oxford two years ago means pretty much the world to me. The friends I made there are some of my best and, unless senility hits early -- a possibility that seems all too threatening sometimes --, those summer's memories will be some of my most cherished forever and ever, amen. 

So you can imagine the relative alacrity (gosh, that's a nice big word) with which I hopped on the next bus destined for the glorious city of Oxford. Manchester's International Society organizes trips to touristic areas throughout England every weekend and one of the first was to Oxford. And while I wouldn't have minded at all to go alone, I used my newfound influence over Aamna to drag her along. I say 'dragged along' but really, her presence was voluntary, I promise. Promise!

Come early Saturday morning, we stumbled out of bed at the ungodly hour of six, got ready, and walked out into the chilly air to the bus stop. Manchester's main road was absolutely empty, an unusual sight after the rush of Fresher's Week and the beginning of lectures. From there, we began the 3ish hour trip down south. 

I'll skip over the invigorating hours of sheep-sightings, llama-farm-searching, past rolling green fields and little semi-detached English houses, straight to our arrival. 

From the moment I saw signs pointing to Oxford, my face lit up in smiles and I sat up straight in my seat to press my nose to the window, gluing my eyes to the buildings blurring past. I was so, so excited.

It may sound silly, but Oxford is one of the few places I have felt entirely at home. The city has a hold on me that I will never be able to (nor do I ever want to) shake off. By the end of that short month

 so many moons ago, I roamed those streets like they were my own with friends who were really, truly my soulmates. Leaving on the last day felt more like leaving home and my family than when I left Los Angeles this past September. I think it was the seemingly definite closure with which I left that city and my friends that summer that made the impact. Leaving LA was just a temporary goodbye, even though I knew a chapter in my life had most definitely ended and would never be the same. It's just different.

We parked in the bus lot by the ice skating rink that we had all skated in one Sunday (July 23, 2006 to be exact. No, I'm not that neurotic. I remember because it was my friend's birthday. I swear.) and the moment Aamna and I were out of the bus, we sped off towards the city -- my face bright with anticipation, Aamna's wary of my insanity. 

It took a couple wrong turns, but once we found ourselves on a familiar street, I could navigate my way around the entire city. Mostly.

I had asked several of my Oxford friends to suggest things for me to do in the short time slot I had -- to relive memories, take pictures of favorite sites, etc. First stop was the beloved G&D's on St Aldate's, one of three local homemade ice cream parlors, home of the best ice cream you will ever have ever. And we were having it for breakfast. Since my psychology class had taken place just a bit down the narrow street, we used to go to G&D's every single day during our break for our daily dose of ice cream. When I say daily dose, I am not exaggerating. I ate ice cream every day for a month at around 10am. And then again later in the evening. Funnily enough, I think I lost weight that summer.

Back to the present. I practically skipped into G&D's, drinking in the most wonderful sense of familiarity before me. It was like a dream, being back there, in Oxford. Like I was having the most ridiculous case of deja vu and I was just stuck in the middle of it, while the world rushed around in another time. It was so weird and delightful all at the same time. 

After snapping that picture, I walked up to the flavors, searching for my beloved banana. Sadly, there was none so instead I asked for a scoop of Oxford Blue on a cone and it was honestly the best thing I'd ever tasted in that moment. I don't know what it is that makes that ice cream -- specifically that flavor -- taste so good but it must have something to do with the amazingness that is Oxford itself. 

Afterwards, we wandered around the city as far as possible. We went past the bridge to the quieter parts of town, where the new G&D's opened and we met a guy who works there and to whom we said 'cheech' and have dubbed Ben. Ben's a sweet guy. 

He seemed only the slightest thrown by the appearance of who were possibly the two weirdest girls ever to walk through that door. We roamed the gorgeous Botanical Gardens, debating whether it was wise to attempt to punt, just us two. We decided against it because a) Aamna can't swim, b) we'd probably get raped by geese, and c) knowing us, we'd get tangled in some shrubbery down a tiny hidden away passage and get stuck in front of a massive sewage pipe, waiting in dread for someone to flush a toilet in the nearby flats. Believe me, it's happened before.

We strolled through Cornmarket, down to Christ Church, sat in the meadows, 

walked up and down High Street several times 

before turning to St Peter's College, where I stayed that summer. I was quite giddy with excitement as we got closer and closer, finally bursting as I stared up at the sandy stone walls of it's entrance. Unfortunately, visitors weren't allowed inside on the weekends but the kind porter allowed us into the immediate entry, in front of the grass that we are threateningly told to Please Keep Off on which we Always Always Sprinted Across. 

We went over to Coffee Republic, back all the way to Carfax Fish & Chips which was closed, and tried to find the spot of our dearest kebab van. Most depressingly, there was construction going on at it's regular spot so I had no idea where it'd moved to. I'll find it again some day. Onward we went, around the Radcliffe Camera, the Bodlian (sp?), our Blackwell's, stopping for lunch at that little French cafe where the guy behind the counter said that I could be his third wife if I so chose. Into some shops to buy some souvenirs and into another to ask for directions to the Pitt Rivers museum.

'The what?'

'Pitt Rivers museum?'

*confusion* 'What sort of museum is it?'

*my turn to be confused* 'Uh.. a historical artifacts one?'

'Ohhhh, it's down that road...'

What? 'A historical artifacts museum?!' How does that differentiate it from any other museum? Sigh. Anyways.

Down the leafy, calm roads that lead to the University Parks and smaller museums and galleries. The Pitt Rivers rooms were closed due to construction (sigh) but we had fun going through the rest of the museum nonetheless. Then we wandered all the way back to the ice skating rink, round the outskirts of the city.  

Mmmmm, Oxford. I was sad to leave it a second time but this ending had less definition. Now that I've gone there once more when I thought I'd never get to see it again, I feel the future is open to possibility more than it has been before. Who knows how that city is going to show up in my life again? Or rather how my life will lead me to show up there. It felt different going there after so long, in such different circumstances; it stood differently. I knew I unreasonably expected it to be exactly how I'd left it, frozen in time until I came back to press play. But I didn't mind so much that it wasn't. It was like meeting a friend I hadn't talked to in ages, only to find there were only glimpses in them that fit into my memory, but that we could still fit together as friends despite the time that had passed. It's the most perfect relationship with Home that I could ask for.

***

And now for a tribute to the bicycles of Oxford.

adventures with aamna

Not too many people are lucky enough to meet someone they immediately click with, which is why it is simply too unbelievably awesome that I have an Aamna. First off, we are practically each other. We wonder how we can still be friends because people who are this similar simply do not get along this well. 

We met because we live on the same floor and were hanging out in the kitchen with several other people around 1am, talking about Communism, as you do. But after that, neither of us can really pinpoint why we became such good friends -- we pretty much live together now. It might have been that she'd just come home from a 5-week vacation in the States and hanging out with her American cousins. She, therefore, kept getting all my jokes and understood all the weird American terms I was using. Maybe we bonded over our shared adoration of "The Office" and all things Dwight Schrute. Whatever it was, it stuck. 

And within days of meeting me, she experienced me entirely on crack. (By 'on crack,' I mean unimaginably hyper. Not on drugs. Drugs are bad.)  See, I'd planned on keeping the weirdo in me locked away until I felt comfortable enough to be that weirdo that is the essence of me (aka until I figured my friends liked me enough that they wouldn't just ditch me when they figured out what they were really dealing with). But I couldn't help it. I was fasting that day and then there was the sudden on rush of sugar and food and energy bubbling up inside. Aamna just happened to be there to witness this. And it during the first of many Fire Safety talks. We laughed throughout the ENTIRE talk. For goodness sake, there were FLAMING SHEEP ON SCREEN, okay?! It was NOT OUR FAULT. We were hyper and giggly and really, this talk just spurred it on. How, you might ask, could a fire safety talk possibly spur on hysterical fits of laughter? We have no idea. It just did. And then we were friends.

That night, there was some sort of pub crawl going on and some of my friends were going and I figured it might be fun to go along and watch the drunk people and since I didn't want to be sober all on my lonesome, I convinced Aamna to come along. This is a recurring theme in our relationship, how easily persuaded Aamna is. It's very convenient. For me. Because this quality of hers is how I get her to go anywhere with me, anytime, like to Oxford or Action Palestine meetings or 3 hour long ticket lin-- queues.

Off we go, sober party buddies. We get to the first pub which almost in town. First of all, there's no one in there because it's early. Me and Aamna just stood around there kind of awkwardly, looking around. And then we asked each other what the heck we were doing there. So we started talking about who knows what and I mentioned that the Flobots were performing at the local gig show place. Aamna didn't really know who they were but she said she'd be my concert-goer buddy and I got all excited because the show had only just started and if we left fast enough we might be able to catch a good bit of it.

We decided to walk all the way back, which is about a 20-30 minute walk, just us two, nearing 11pm. We didn't stop talking for one second all the way to the Student Union. When we got there though, the show had just ended and so we left a little dejected, picking up a concert calendar to make sure we could plan ahead next time. 

We had nothing better to do so we started walking back to Gabs when Aamna got a sudden craving for Mickey D's. On the way, we were welcomed by the deceiving bright lights of McDonald's golden arches, much to Aamna's delight. Turns out it was closed and the lights were on because an employee was mopping up. Third disappointment of the evening. 

We were about to turn the corner to our street when some guy walked by eating a giant cone of ice cream. Aamna and I watched him and his delicious ice cream pass on by until we turned to look at each other. She asked if I was craving ice cream. I was. 

Our Hall is on the edge of what is called the Curry Mile, a long road of Indian, Pakistani, Middle Eastern, etc etc restaurants, groceries, and shops. Which, of course, means that we are privy to the delights of really good mostly cheap food whenever we feel like it. Aamna knew of a place called Moonlight that had all sorts of desserts a couple blocks down. It was packed so we had to wait out in the cold for a bit but the thick banana milkshake I got was so worth it. Really, it was quite delightful. 

Then, on the way back again, we passed an Indian takeout restaurant which smelled amazing. It always does. Every morning walking to lectures, I hate/love walking down my street because it smells delicious and I can't stop and get something to eat but oh it smells so good. Anyways. We went in, got ourselves a small pizza -- WITH PEPPERONI!! Yes, I am that excited. You don't know what it's like not to have pepperoni for so longggggg. So I enjoyed it immensely. We ate, just us two, in the basement kitchen, talking about nothing and everything and simply having a lovely time.

That was our first adventure. 

Aamna and her broken umbrella numero uno.

There have been several afterwards, each including us attracting weirdos, getting lost because we had no idea where we were going, taking "shortcuts" and getting lost because we THOUGHT we knew where we were going, going places on a whim, ruining umbrellas, getting lost IN A MALL after we'd READ THE MAP that told us EXACTLY WHERE TO GO, getting fat off kilos worth of sweets at the cinema, getting soaked, waiting for buses in the rain for an hour and getting soaked, seeing chavs beat their dogs on buses, fearing for our lives, getting charged on the free bus, and other such epic experiences.

The usual weather for all our escapades.

the lewis story

During Fresher's Week, we had a lab induction to get us used to the labs and what's going on during practicals and all that good stuff. 

Becca and I were ... a little off our rockers to say the least. It was one of those days that if anyone said anything to us, we would laugh too incredibly hard. Crazy things were bound to happen.

So we're at this lab induction and we have to split into little groups of four to do a quiz based on information in the lab manual. Both Becca and I reached out to the girl in front of us, graciously inviting her to be part of our pair, and she just WALKS ON BY. Whatever, that's fine, we don't need her. Instead, I notice a guy sitting across the way, all by his lonesome. And being the nice person that I am, I stand up and yell across the room, arms flailing, calling him over. Yeah, I did. And yeah, he came over. So there.

The moment he was settled on his stool, we attacked him, interrogating him with questions. Your name (Lewis), where are you from (near Blackpool), your major (pharmacology), lectures (us too!), your accommodation (hey, we could walk to lectures together!!), your general life satisfaction (alright). I then asked how uni life was going so far and he said that was alright too.

Now I'd like to take the time to justify my next question. The night before, I'd been talking to one of my friends back home who said he wasn't really enjoying university all the much because he didn't have any friends. Keep this in mind, now come back to Lewis.

After he said uni was alright, I said, "Do you have any friends? ... I mean, apart from us." I'm pretty sure it was about this time (five minutes into our relationship) that Lewis really truly began to regret reacting to my frantic crazy arm waving earlier. Too bad for him.

Later in the middle of the session, I notice a sign on the opposite wall that says: EMERGENCY SHOWERS SECTION 10. And I began to ponder, as you do. How horrible would it be (if fire caught our christmas treeeee). Ahem. How horrible would it be if you got set on fire in section ONE and had to run nine whole sections to put yourself out? I expressed these worrisome thoughts to Becca who consequently was overcome with the image of me, hair aflame, sprinting through the labs, bursting through doors screaming, WHERE'S SECTION 10?! And then we fell into a fit of laughter and hilarity. You should have been there. Lewis probably wishes he could have traded places with you. Really.

We were pretty much goners from then on, the lack of oxygen reaching our brains from all the laughter cut short our intelligence supply. Poor Lewis over here is still trying to hang on to a shred of dignity by actually answering the quiz questions. Ah, bless him.

At the end of the induction, as Lewis stood up to leave, we said our goodbyes and see you in lectures. And then I asked if he even remembered our names. He responds, "I wish I could say I do ... but I can't." He then continued to walk away. Did not ask for our names. 

Too bad we know his.

We have encountered Lewis several times since that fated day. Once I was running late to a lecture, went through one side of the lecture hall only to find the door was locked, turned around to go back and found myself in the midst of several other lagging students and who among them all directly in front of me? Oh yes. I froze in my tracks, shot my hand up, put on the biggest smile, waved frantically (Amanda, Lauren, you know what I mean) and said, HI LEWIS. He gave me a halfhearted smile and nodded in my direction. 

Another time, while walking out of a lecture, I turn to my right only to find Lewis not two feet away. In my sudden excitement, I call Becca repeatedly until she turns and then I reach over Katherine -- REACH OVER HER HEAD -- and shove my pointed finger directly into Lewis' face and yell, LEWIS! My finger was inches from his face. I am not joking. This actually happened. I am actually that much of a loser. 

Act like you don't love me anyways.

But the ultimate act of obsessive stalker comes into play here. We'd heard the lab groups were posted and Becca and I laughed at the thought that Lewis might end up in one of our lab groups, how great would that be? It would be amazing. For us.

I promptly dust off my stalking skills, my fingers tingling in anticipation. I conveniently find an electronic version of the list, a very handy Excel spreadsheet of names, majors, and lab groups. I download it, open it, and search the document for the name "Lewis." The first one was a Neuroscientist (who, by the way, I believe I have also managed to freak out entirely) and the second was ... our Lewis. Turns out he's in group D. I search the document for my own name. I'm the only Noor. 

And I'm in group D. 

Think of it what you will, but I'm telling you it was fate. 

Since I then had his surname as well, I found him on facebook and friended him. He accepted, probably because he doesn't remember our names. Whatever. We like to think he remembers and wants so badly to be part of our world of awesome but is simply too shy to admit it. 

One day, when we're really good friends with Lewis, we'll look back on all this and laugh. Good times.