So this is me blogging...

I have literally nothing insightful to talk about from the past week. I have been sick with some odd flu/infection/earache/headache/unknownretrovirusthatwillmorphintothenextpandemic. To keep it simple, I've done nothing worth talking about that will give people a slice of English life to mull over or help anyone going abroad or thinking about going abroad build up their confidence about why they should make the trip to Where-ever, World. In fact, the amount of complaining I'm about to do might turn people off to the whole experience, but don't let me deter you I'm just some American guy in England with a blog, not the definitive expert on studying abroad. However, if you are someone thinking about going abroad that has stumbled upon this on accident or by request of one of the advisors at C-Geo, make sure you read the other blogs I've written or will write after this one as they'll offset the ridiculous amount of frustration I'm about to unleash. So now that the disclaimer is there, off we go to into the office Chris "The Criticism Captain" Thorburn.

I came back from Paris at noon two Sundays ago feeling good. I had just spent the week with my best friend sightseeing and joking around in Paris and London. However, as I sat down to eat lunch I started to feel tired which quickly thereafter went from travel exhaustion to full-fledged sickness. I spent the next 6 consecutive days in bed with myriad ailments ranging from fevers, shivers, coughing, sneezing, wheezing (whatever else they list on the Night-Quil commercials), thinking I'm going to throw up, ear aches, jaw pains (which apparently is normal with ear infections), complete sinus blockage, and it was all topped off with a 3 day mother of a headache like I've never had before. I'm not one to call home when I'm sick, but after about 5 straight days of this crap I had to call my dear old mother (she used to be a nurse) and get some thoughts. Since I literally couldn't breath out of my nose or get any type of (get ready to be grossed out) phlegm movement, I started wondering about clots and whatnot (one of the funny things you think about when you can sleep and muse that it might be your deathbed). She suggested, as I had already been doing, taking a really long hot shower. So back into my pod (it's a plastic room with a shower, sink, and toilette all together) for another hour of steam therapy I went.... to no avail. Luckily that night I fell asleep due to shear exhaustion while dreaming about what it felt like to live in Communist Russia.

Right, so last Saturday I wake up and decide I need to see a doctor (This is going to lead to my two major complaints about England which has, for the most part, been a very good and fun place to live). Since it's a Saturday the bus only runs every 30 minutes, however the bus guy arrived early meaning I waited for another 30 minutes on the street, sick and freezing in the cold (it might not have been that cold but my condition sure made it seem that way). So I waited and waited and waited giving me time to think and mull over some questionable things I've noticed here. First, for some reason the number of people at the University of Leicester is up in the air. Based on the percentages they gave in regards to student population versus city population, I surmised that the Uni has about 12,000 students. However the number 20,000 keeps popping up all over the place on school stuff. I refuse to believe that there are 20,000 students at the University, there is no way the amount of housing for first years and the size of the campus could support that many people. Maybe they have 20,000 people sharing internet through Beaumont Hall (our internet here is horribly slow), but there is no way that 20,000 people actively attend this University. It's gotten to the point that I feel like a character in one of those dystopian novels where the protagonist is forced to believe that a black pen is red by the people pulling strings behind the scenes. It's like the university says, "There are 20,000 people here" and everyone believes it because no one cares. Anyways so that's a lot of rambling, but it leads me to this complaint about the Uni. If there are, for purpose of argument, 20,000 students here... why are we relying on some crappy national bus service like Arriva with drivers who will half-ass the schedule when our university SHOULD be able to afford their own buses like we have at UT? If the University of Texas can have consistent bus service every 3-10 minutes throughout most of a city like Austin (horrible, horrible road system with the amount of traffic that goes through it), why can't the University of Leicester have a bus that will be there every 5-10 minutes? It's not like this is a major city and people live far away. It's Oadby and Leicester, stop making students wait 30 minutes to go into town or get back to their dorm.

Anyways back to the story. So I wait for 30 minutes, finally get a bus and ride it up to the campus medical center to find, surprise surprise, that it was closed. I don't know much about socialized medicine, but this is one topic where I'm going to vote "no" the next time some third-party member puts it on his Presidential agenda. What kind of sickbay is closed at 2 in the afternoon on a Saturday at a major University? I don't have a car, hardly anyone here does, so what am I supposed to do call an ambulance because the flu is beating me up? To make matters worse I mosey back over to the bus stop to realize that, surprise surprise, I have to wait another 30 minutes for the next bus.

So by the time I finally get back to the housing area, I've decided that I must make the trek up to ASDA to get some medicine. This is where living in a different culture really "shocks" you. Over-the-counter medicine really seems to be exactly that. I don't know if this is how it works at all drug stores and whatnot, but at this particular ASDA if you need anything medically-related (even bandages), a clerk behind the counter must get it for you. Now I was a bit relieved when the cheery clerk came up to me being all talkative asking me about my accent and where I was from," This is good, I'm going to get some relief," I thought to myself. WRONG. I don't know if she thought I was addicted to cold medicine or what, but she refused to sell me Sudafed after questioning me about my symptoms. Instead she advised me to seek "medical services" which I explained to her were closed upon which she responded, eerily like a recorder, the exact same thing she had just told me. "I advise you to seek medical services" appeared to become her mantra for the moment as all my rebuttals were responded to with a stark disdain for any real thought. Eventually she decided to "advise" me to use hot water treatment... thanks mom. So I left in utter frustration, cold, and quickly realizing that I had spent the past 2 hours of my life getting absolutely no medical treatment or help for an ailment which had afflicted me for nearly a week. Again, not voting "yes" for socialized medicine.

Luckily Flipper had just returned from his hockey match and was nice enough to go up to ASDA and buy me some Sudafed. I have no idea why they sold it to him and not me, but whatever. He was also smart enough to get me some orange juice citing the whole rhetoric around vitamin C and your health. So after drinking some of that, taking some Sudafed and sleeping well that night, I finally started to feel better. However even today, 3 days since getting the medicine, I still don't feel 100%. Anyways, because I've had two papers to turn in this week and because I excel in the art of procrastination, I've avoided going to the doctor. "Why go when you're getting better?" is my motto.

Anywho my last round of complaints is going to be about the papers due not-today and not-today. Confusing right? Well I have no one to blame but myself for the confusion about one of those papers that wasn't due today. My friend Lauren said they were due Tuesday so I assumed she meant today when in fact she meant next Tuesday. That's ok cause I had been working on it for awhile and finished it over the weekend. The paper that really busted my butt was my History of Arts paper about Alfred Hitchcock and David O. Selznick. This paper is due tomorrow, that's Wednesday, and I knew it. Yet last night at dinner my friend Bart planted a seed of confusion when he said it was due today, that's Tuesday. So I was very surprised this morning when I checked my inbox and found an email about turning in my History of Arts paper today at 5pm. In a mad dash I set to work (thank God I had done a good bit of preliminary reading) finishing my reading and forming a case study around the film Rebecca. I started at 10:30, worked till 1 when I had to go up to campus to give a presentation, and finished it while I ate lunch at the Red Fern (campus restraunt/pup that trumps anything we have at the good ol' Forty Acres). I finished about 3:30 with my paper and bibliography (for some reason I had to explain why I used each source besides the obvious reason, they talked about my topic), and went to turn it it online only to discover, surprise surprise, that the paper meant to be turned in today was for another History of Arts class. I'm not trying to whine too much about the practices at the HA office, this was after all my own fault for not reading the email as carefully as I should (who really reads emails seriously anyways?), but why on earth am I getting an email about another class? I'm not enrolled in this class, so isn't it logical that at the end-of-term-crunch-time I shouldn't be getting emails in regards to a class that I have nothing to do with? Again it's my own fault, but c'mon with 20,000 students (I jest) you should at least have some sort of up-to-date emailing system that differs between a History of Arts student in American Filmmakers and the Studio System versus a History of Arts student taking Film Analysis. It's one of those points that is probably moot and will annoy those of you who actually read this because it was my fault, but seriously c'mon figure out how to use Microsoft Office and email databases.

Ok so that's it, I'm sorry for the crass and massive amount of complaining and whining I've done but I'll end it on a light note. The main tower has this utterly frivolous lift system that is like a wooden elevator with multiple carts traveling up and down continuously on a pulley system. It's like some archaic form of movement (stairs instead of escalators anyone?) that makes even less sense, besides the obvious danger, because 10 feet away from it is a very nice and advanced elevator. Anywho, I seriously love this thing. The first time I rode it I thought I was going to die as it plunged into the abyss below floor 2 (who knew that "Alight Here" meant "Get off"?). As I was succumbed by darkness I convinced myself that this was the end, the cart would fold itself into some weird shape and crush me. Of course when you're life is flashing before your eyes you aren't thinking logically... would they actually make an elevator that crushed anyone who didn't get off in time? Of course not, only myself and Edgar Allen Poe (and maybe the people running The Spanish Inquisition) would devise such a device. Right, so I know this contraption makes no sense but just imagine one of those Hot Wheels lifts they have in the parking garage that lucky little kids get at Christmas. Anywho, so today I'm riding the thing because it's actually in service and I get the two biggest delights of a rather, wrongfully, stressful day. First I'm positive I saw Screech Powers riding one ahead of me and second this really rude women (she berated a friend of mine cause SHE bumped into his backpack) jumped on my cart which led to a moment of realization of profound proportions. Men actually have more style sense than women at times. Yes it's true, call my a misogynistic pig or "Chauvinistic Chris" or whatever have you, but please ladies DO NOT EVER wear purple lace stockings with purple shoes and a purple dress. In fact never wear purple lace stockings with anything, boycott the industry, down with whoever makes purple lace stockings.

Alright I'm done, peace out.

Chris