Yes, I'm finally home. Back in Blightie. Returned to the Land of Eng. And to be honest, I kind of miss America.
Don't get me wrong, I'm damn happy to be back. I just miss the friends I made out in Happygunland. I also miss the girls who want to know me just because I'm English. I also miss not having to worry about a job, sleeping in and having any kind of idea what time it is when I wake up.
Jet lag has struck with vengeance after my long sojourn from flying and what I believe is 11a.m. is in fact 4p.m. Yes, that's the time difference and should be expected but if I go to sleep at 1a.m. my body clock shouldn't conspire to keep me asleep for well over twelve hours. Unless it hates me.
My flights back weren't plagued by misfortune, as I had feared they might. No inhumanly gross co-passengers and no delays. Just lots of security checks. Lots and lots and lots of them. Mainly in Iceland, believe it or not; apparently the recent rise in terrorism has the Icelandic authorities incredibly concerned. On the face of it, there's nothing in Iceland worth terrorizing - maybe cows and grass, but there are easier places to find those things.
No, instead I have come to the conclusion that there must be some great treasure or artifact of power hidden in the Icelandic wilds. The cross Jesus was crucified on maybe? Or the Holy Grail...A quantum computer laboratory? Or even a doomsday device the likes of which only Marvel Comics has come close to imagining?
Or there's just an unbalanced amount of paranoia in Iceland - never before have they needed it, and suddenly now they've received centuries worth of concentrated, industrial grade paranoia all at once. Hence the four security checks I went through, manned by stony-faced cops, some armed. All within the same terminal.
Off the plane - checkpoint. Upstairs - checkpoint. A second, in-terminal, passport control - checkpoint. To get to the separated area where my gate was - checkpoint. And again before I got on my second plane. I don't know many people who can change identity at will that fast. Perhaps they had a shapeshifting immigrant through recently or something. Who knows.
So now my summer plan is to unearth the possible-secret of Iceland. Depending on what I find, I'll share it with the world. If it's a lifetime's supply of peanut butter...don't get your hopes up.
Showing posts with label Iceland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Iceland. Show all posts
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Monday, 20 April 2009
It's been a long time...
I have been unfortunately busy of late and so this is my first post for about a cyber-year (a mutable period of time ranging from one to whatever comes to mind). I'm realizing that I have two weeks left in the States before I have to go home. My suitcase looks suspiciously inadequately sized for all the random junk I have accumulated over my stay and I am probably going to need a second. *joy*
Now it comes to leaving, it seems a bit jarring; I've lived out here for almost a year and made some really good friends, but everything has to be left behind. Of course, those things can come visit - I could name one very attractive thing that could come visit - but that is up to them. I am doing my best to tempt anyone back over the pond for a European sojourn but apparently no one has the money. Which is where the first point of this entry comes in:
ICELAND!!! Yes, the country. No, not the cheap supermarket for those of you in England. Iceland suffered under the economic crisis a lot, and subsequently air travel to, from and through Iceland is cheap. Very cheap. So to all those people out there wanting to cross the Atlantic, go through Iceland.
Secondly, if you know me, are American, and want to come to England, do. Traveling is well worth the money and time, trust me on this. I'm going to do as much as I can before I'm thirty and settle down to have a family. Admittedly, depending on how settling down goes I may start traveling again at thirty-one.
American families seem to be generally more dysfunctional than English ones - I'm not trying to be insulting, I'm basing this on observations I've made while here. My corridor mate has told me on several occasions that they hate his mother and another has said that they're never having a family because it just doesn't work. There are more examples but this is a blog, not a psychology report. I know for a fact that there are dysfunctional families in England - look at East Croydon for proof - but I didn't meet so many people with those issues. Maybe I was lucky. Or maybe they avoid me out of sickening jealousy for my normal, happy, functional family.
Either way, Americans in general - key disclaimer there, IN GENERAL - believe that families tend to fall apart or not work, just like relationships. A friend of mine told me most relationships fail. Which, to be honest, is true. But then again, all wars are lost and everyone dies. Finding a relationship that works makes up for the ones that fail - and when I say works I don't mean makes you happy until it fails, I mean one that doesn't fail.
It has also been highlighted to me that I have not been in a relationship that works, by my definition. And this is, sadly, true. But not because of a fault on my behalf - apparently. Aside from being four hundred miles away due to unavoidable circumstances which if I'd have the choice I would have definitely changed. This being the case, I still look for the best in a relationship which I believe allows one to enjoy that relationship more than if you're constantly worrying over it. To be perfectly honest, I'd much rather just enjoy my time and intimate activities with a girl than constantly wonder if she's thinking about someone else - here's the thing, if you're doing it right, then she won't be thinking. And you can usually tell if you're doing it right.
So whatever you're doing, wherever you're doing it, stop worrying and just do it right. Sex, traveling or Iceland, just don't think; DO! Which means I'm going to stop thinking about my packing issues and just put all my stuff in one suitcase, probably breaking the laws of physics and discovering a new dimension in the process. Nobel Peace Prize, here I come.
Now it comes to leaving, it seems a bit jarring; I've lived out here for almost a year and made some really good friends, but everything has to be left behind. Of course, those things can come visit - I could name one very attractive thing that could come visit - but that is up to them. I am doing my best to tempt anyone back over the pond for a European sojourn but apparently no one has the money. Which is where the first point of this entry comes in:
ICELAND!!! Yes, the country. No, not the cheap supermarket for those of you in England. Iceland suffered under the economic crisis a lot, and subsequently air travel to, from and through Iceland is cheap. Very cheap. So to all those people out there wanting to cross the Atlantic, go through Iceland.
Secondly, if you know me, are American, and want to come to England, do. Traveling is well worth the money and time, trust me on this. I'm going to do as much as I can before I'm thirty and settle down to have a family. Admittedly, depending on how settling down goes I may start traveling again at thirty-one.
American families seem to be generally more dysfunctional than English ones - I'm not trying to be insulting, I'm basing this on observations I've made while here. My corridor mate has told me on several occasions that they hate his mother and another has said that they're never having a family because it just doesn't work. There are more examples but this is a blog, not a psychology report. I know for a fact that there are dysfunctional families in England - look at East Croydon for proof - but I didn't meet so many people with those issues. Maybe I was lucky. Or maybe they avoid me out of sickening jealousy for my normal, happy, functional family.
Either way, Americans in general - key disclaimer there, IN GENERAL - believe that families tend to fall apart or not work, just like relationships. A friend of mine told me most relationships fail. Which, to be honest, is true. But then again, all wars are lost and everyone dies. Finding a relationship that works makes up for the ones that fail - and when I say works I don't mean makes you happy until it fails, I mean one that doesn't fail.
It has also been highlighted to me that I have not been in a relationship that works, by my definition. And this is, sadly, true. But not because of a fault on my behalf - apparently. Aside from being four hundred miles away due to unavoidable circumstances which if I'd have the choice I would have definitely changed. This being the case, I still look for the best in a relationship which I believe allows one to enjoy that relationship more than if you're constantly worrying over it. To be perfectly honest, I'd much rather just enjoy my time and intimate activities with a girl than constantly wonder if she's thinking about someone else - here's the thing, if you're doing it right, then she won't be thinking. And you can usually tell if you're doing it right.
So whatever you're doing, wherever you're doing it, stop worrying and just do it right. Sex, traveling or Iceland, just don't think; DO! Which means I'm going to stop thinking about my packing issues and just put all my stuff in one suitcase, probably breaking the laws of physics and discovering a new dimension in the process. Nobel Peace Prize, here I come.
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