I’ve been asked before how my days go here. Here is what transpired today…
8:00AM- My alarm goes off at 8AM. I have every intention to greet the world with a huge smile and a HELLO WORLD! Fresh fruit, eggs, toast, and tea await me! Morning yoga, anyone? But, alas, I’m not a morning person and I hit snooze repeatedly with violent non-morning person force.
8:30AM– My final alarm finally goes off. I have my actual morning routine perfected… well, as perfected as it could be… considering my snoozin’. I don’t get the breakfast I deserve, because I’m not hungry. I’m usually not first thing in the morning. But I do make my bed! That’s got to count for something, right?
9:00AM– I have to take three different tube lines to get to school because I live in the city center and commute to my campus in the ‘burbs. I leave no later than nine to ensure I’m early to class. To my friends back home- yes, it’s true! I’m actually EARLY to something for once!
10:00AM– I have Diversity in the Media today. The first half of the three hour class is a lecture. Highlights include my professor mentioning the “Hispanic takeover” in America, AKA the influx of Hispanics whom had such great buying power that media like Telemundo was established. AWE YUH.
11:30AM– It’s now halfway through my class and we get a 10 minute break. It’s usually about this time my tum tum betrays me and starts obnoxiously screaming how horribly hungry it is. I vow to eat breakfast tomorrow (I vow this every day). I spend my 10 minute break distracting myself with memes.
11:40AM– We begin the second portion of class. It’s a seminar, so we usually spend it in discussion. Highlights include a European girl bluntly stating, “White men are the problem. They’re the racists. They’re the ones with the issues. They need to be the ones to fix themselves.”
1:00PM– Class is supposed to be over. My professor is showing no signs of shutting up the class chatterbox.
1:15PM– Class is over! I usually head straight to my office in central London to round out the afternoon, but today I have a site visit to meet with some students. I head to Paddington Station to catch my train.
2:00PM– I’ve made it to Paddington and settle into the fast train to Reading. I spend my time on the train preparing notes and pretending I’m a real business gal. I think I’ve got at least half the train car fooled.
3:00PM– Finally on the University of Reading campus, and I feel like I’m back in America. It’s so different than London! It’s all a self-contained campus, complete with grassy lawns and banners promoting upcoming events. Fun fact: it’s pronounced University of REDDING.
3:20PM– At last, a chance to eat for the first time all day. I scarf down a burger and fries from the dining hall ten minutes before I’m due to meet with my students. It’s tough being a fatass on this kind of schedule.
6:00PM– I head back to the city, grateful for my little taste of America. But I miss the busy and nothing makes me happier than seeing that train’s destination proudly exclaiming LONDON!
7:00PM– Before going home, I stop by Oxford Street to run errands. I’m only supposed to get my phone fixed, and buy a new pair of pants…but somehow end up with a shopping bag full of new clothes. And no pants. Well, I’m wearing pants, but I didn’t buy new pants. I can see how that was a misleading sentence. I apologize.
8:30PM– Finally home after twelve hours of nonstop go go go. I make a quick dinner (including mashed potatoes for the second night in a row because I’ve been missing those like crazy lately #MissUPopeyes), and settle in to watch an episode of Gossip Girl.
10:49PM– Still watching Gossip Girl, I decide to eat exactly three Oreos by dunking ’em in some milk. My dessert betrays me when I chug the remaining milk and it’s SOUR. MILK. Y U DO DIS TO ME.
10:50PM– I throw away my milk, and eat two oranges. I’m hoping the acidity kills the sins of the sour milk I just consumed. I am disgusted.
10:51PM– I proceed to call my father and immediately begin the call with, “DAD. ASK ME WHY TODAY WAS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE.” Unfazed, my dad repeats my command and politely listens as I explain my traumatic milk experience.
11:45PM– I hang up with my dad and think, Dang, I love that guy.
And here we are. Ready for whatever tomorrow brings!