My Music
Robert Moog died yesterday. Without him I think half of the music I listen to would genuinely suck. So I think it's only appropriate to finally answer the little challenge that my friend David, waxelastic.com, issued a few months ago and I'm just now getting around to doing. He answered a few questions about his music; now I'm doing the same.
Total volume of music on my computer:
A sad 25G. I don't have all my music on my computer because it won't fit and I only recently got one of those 300G drives to put all of my stuff on.
The last CD I bought:
The last one I got was The Magic Numbers; the last one I bought was something I was very excited about but must have sucked since I don't remember it. The last ones I remember buying are Beck's Guero and one of Fairuz's best of CDs.
Song playing right now:
Since I started writing this, 'It Takes a Fool to Remain Sane' by the Ark and now 'July, July!' by The Decemberists
Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:
Luna - Tiger Lily
Billy Bragg and Wilco - California Stars
The Postal Service - Such Great Heights
The Decemberists - The Soldiering Life
Khaled - Aicha
Really close to being on that list are Yo La Tengo's 'Our Way to Fall', The Fall's 'Victoria', and Cheb Mami's 'Azwaw 2'. I know, that's cheating because technically I have eight songs listed now.
Fixing Up Friends
Tonight I got together for drinks with my friends Tom and Hannes, guys I know from Damascus and really like but am just friends with. They're both good-looking (Hannes happens to be one of the best-looking guys I know), extremely smart, have wicked senses of humor, and are incredibly nice to boot. Why they're single is one of those mysteries I can't figure out, like Stonehenge or Ashlee Simpson's popularity.
Two drinks into the night, I decided that Tom and Hannes should meet some of my female smart, gorgeous London friends. I mentioned this and Hannes looked at his watch. I asked him why he was doing that and Tom pointed out I'd been hanging out with Hannes for hours (we had met for coffee earlier on and had indeed been hanging out for several hours at that point) and I was just now mentioning my wonderful, available friends. Having both spent the past seven or eight months in Damascus, a very tricky place to date, they were both excited about the possibility of my fixing them up with my fantastic friends.
I pointed out that, in return, it would be great it they could fix me up with one of their single friends. They reluctantly asked me what I'm looking for. I said 'Witty and sarcastic, smart, well-traveled, perhaps.' At this point Tom pointed out that he thought that eliminated most of his friends as 'they're not well-traveled.' 'I guess they don't have to be well-traveled,' I said. By this point we had walked outside and were saying goodbye. 'Well?' I asked them. 'I really don't know what you're looking for,' Hannes said. 'Witty and smart? Is that so hard?' I asked.
My friend David once flat out said that he could never set me up with one of his friends, as I was too good for all of them (I still, by the way, refuse to believe this). Women are, I think, more willing to put their friends out there to meet nice, single guys. There's nothing I'd like to see more than my fabulous friends getting together. Men seem to have some problem with fixing up their female friends with their male friends. Or is it just that my male friends aren't very comfortable fixing me up with their friends?
A V. Bridget Jones Day
Last week I went out to dinner with my cousin and his wife and my friend Nic. We split a few bottles of wine, ate some good food, and by the time we were done it was around 10.30 (disasterously late for London, I feel). My cousin and his wife kindly offered to let me spend the night at their place, since I would otherwise have a long train ride home. I happily accepted (I love their place. It's a spacious loft with a lot of good light), said goodbye to Nic, and we headed home.
We sat around chatting for a while once we got home. Before they both turned in they happily mentioned that they now have a spare set of keys, so, although they were both leaving for work around 7, I could leave whenever I wanted and just drop the keys in their mailbox.
I woke up sometime around 9, showered, and then headed downstairs to check my e-mail and grab some music my cousin had recommended. Feeling peppy and generally full of goodness from having had a really nice evening, I grabbed the keys and tried to get out. The top lock was locked, but I couldn't open it. I tried both keys. No luck. Then I somehow managed to get a key stuck in the bottom lock. I strained to get it out and broke the metal key ring it was on. At this point I realized I was in trouble.
I called Nic and explained what had happened. 'You're locked *in*?' he said incredulously. 'This is great!' He sweetly offered to come down to Brixton and try to help me get out. 'Are you going to stand on the other side of the door and watch me struggle?' I asked wryly. I thanked him for his offer and said that I thought it would be a little pointless. He told me to try watching tv for a bit and then try wrestling with the keys after half an hour or so, that maybe I would have a better perspective on the situation once I had managed to concentrate on something else.
I called my cousin to ask him if he had used the keys before. 'Loads of times', he said. Then he said 'Little key goes in the top lock, big one in the bottom one.' I looked at the keys. The little key was stuck in the bottom lock. I couldn't tell him what I had done. I hung up and called Nic again.
'I got the wrong key stuck in the lock,' I hiccuped through tears. 'I'm such an idiot!' He started laughing. 'It's not funny', I said. 'I know', he said. He told me a story about how he was out driving and got pulled over by a cop on a horse. It made me feel a bit better. 'You have to call your cousin,' he said.
Before I could pull myself to call him, though, my cousin called and asked me if I had managed to get out. 'Er, no,' I said. I explained the bit about having the wrong key stuck in the lock. He gave me directions to another set of keys, I managed to put the correct key in the correct lock, open the door, and, apologizing profusely, I ended my conversation with him.
Outside the house, I called Nic again, sniffling. 'I'm out,' I said. 'Yay!' he cried. 'I'm such a moron,' I said. 'Well, at least your cousins got a good story.' Yes, they did.
London
When I got to London I wasn't sure that this is where I wanted to be. Since I left Syria I've just spent all of my time feeling out of place and a little lost. I miss the friendliness of Damascus, the way that people are inviting and take time to talk to you and treat you like a person. There's not much of that in the US or in the UK and I think that's a big hole in society. Whereas Syrians genuinely care about their neighbors, I feel like Americans and Brits would prefer not to have neighbors.
Now that I've been in London about a month, I'm feeling a little better about being here and possibly calling London home. People here are rude as hell but I think having a few people here I really care about makes up for that.
*#!&* job hunting
The joy that I felt about finding free wireless out here in zone 4 where I'm staying with my aunt was short lived. I know I've been looking for a job for less than three months, but I'm still feeling frustrated. I've had three interviews, one of which was for a job that was interesting but would have paid me enough to go out for one beer a week (clearly not enough for a girl who has lived in Germany and the UK and lists beer among her hobbies) and definitely did not pay enough for me to live without mortal fear of getting a flat tire I would not be able to afford to repair (this is my other measurement of whether or not a salary is a living wage).
One of the disheartening things about my job search is I get comments like 'oh, so you know Arabic and German but you don't know SPSS?' or 'I see you have a lot of research skills but can you draft a letter?' No, I've never written a letter in my life. I will, for the records, admit that I make a terrible cup of coffee, which should immediately disqualify me from ever working as an office assistant.
As one of my friends pointed out tonight, the worst thing about my being frustrated about job hunting is that the only thing that will make me feel better is getting a job. So that leaves me unemployed and unhappy for some time longer.
