Thankful Thanksgivers on Thanksgiving

Sound: "Dashboard" by Modest Mouse

My Thanksgiving started out rather badly. It was just one of those days where everything was going wrong, and it seemed like I didn't have a lot to be thankful for (now, before you say "Morgan! You're in London! What are you talking about?!" please know that I was thankful for that, but just because I am in London does not mean I am not allowed to have a bad day). I was mentally preparing myself to spend my Thanksgiving alone, in my room, with some Kraft Mac n' Cheese (which would not be that bad, actually).

But then Sean and Beth told me about orphan Thanksgiving. Orphan Thanksgiving is a get together Beth had at her flat. Everyone brought and/or made something, and we ate (a lot!), drank (a moderate amount), and played games. It was wonderful. It was, to be quite honest, what Thanksgiving is all about. And we actually managed to have a full Thanksgiving meal with all the fixings (except we substituted chicken for turkey, because turkey is heck of expensive).

So, with that, here is what I am thankful for this year (abridged):

1) My family- Both the family I was born into, and the family that has formed around me throughout the years. These people are the ones who keep me grounded and keep me going. They make me laugh, sometimes they make me cry, and usually they make me laugh until I cry. I don't know where I would be without them, and I love them all (even when I get mad and say I don't)!

2) My mom, dad, stepmom, and stepdad- They get a special thankfulness because they are just that special and important. They whip my butt into gear and support me and don't let me get away with any B.S. Actually, occasionally they let me "get away" with B.S., but it's only so that I learn an important lesson about not pulling any B.S. They're pretty awesome, and I am so blessed to have them all in my life.

3) My friends- Friends are different than family, but just as important. I am so glad to have friends all over the country (and even the world!). My friends expose me to new ideas and perspectives, and they're also just all-around cool people. And they tolerate my tendency towards singing rap lyrics.

4) Ato Quayson- Ato Quayson is a professor of English at the University of Toronto. He is brilliant. I love him. He doesn't know it yet, but I'm going to meet him one day and marry him (if he's still single) and we are going to sit up late every night discussing disability theory in post-colonial literature. His book Aesthetic Nervousness was also one of the things that made me realize just how cool English lit is.

5) Taco Bell- Don't laugh; Taco Bell is an amazing wonderful place and I don't care if there's an urban myth saying that the meat is actually made of cockroach babies. It is delicious. Taco Bell does not exist in the UK and I miss it so very, very much.

Happy Thanksgiving. Peace out, cubscouts.

Wales (aka Where Are The Vowels?)

Sound: Christmas music...

Before I start my post, I'm going to talk about my relationship with Christmas, especially Christmas music.

I like Christmas; in fact, I have celebrated Christmas (in a family-lovin', gift-givin' way, not a Jesus-birthin' way) since I was ten or eleven. However, I do not like Christmas music being constantly played. The day after Thanksgiving, I am subjected to the same recordings of Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby, and The Bare Naked Ladies singing the same Christmas songs on repeat forever and ever and EVER. And it starts to drive me crazy. And in England, there's no Thanksgiving. So that means that this Christmas music nightmare begins on November 1.

I just want a little Adam Sandler, you know? Even if this is a Christian country, I think everyone can appreciate lyrics like "Goldie Hawn's half-Jewish/Harrison Ford is too/Put them together/What a fine-looking Jew!"

Anyway, on to Wales.

This past week, my dad was visiting me in London. We had fun. I'd tell you more, but that's not the point of this post. We decided that we wanted to do a weekend trip, so we went to Stonehenge (because Dad wanted to see it, and, hey, I really like getting my pagan on) and Cardiff (the capital of Wales). First, let me tell you about how hard it is to navigate around Great Britain. We definitely had to back track a lot. And then there's the whole driving on the other side of the road thing. Dad drove, so I did not have to worry about being responsible for anything expensive. However, I did have to worry about dying. But only twice, which is pretty impressive (good job, Dad!).

When we got to Stonehenge, Dad decided he wanted to do a handstand. For those of you without facebook, or who just choose to be normal and not stalk me, I have a picture of myself doing a handstand at Stonehenge. And Dad liked the idea, so he was going to do it. It took a lot of tries, and at one point, Dad fell on his head and got a mud stain there. There are pictures, but you'll have to convince him to share them. I'm really hoping he posts them all in an album entitled "The Evolution of Handstandhenge: I've Still Got It."

After Stonehenge, we crossed into Wales and discovered something we weren't quite prepared for: Welsh. Wales is a bilingual country, and Welsh is possibly the weirdest language I've come across. Dutch, as much as I struggled with it, has nothing on Welsh. Here're some examples of why Welsh is so screwed up:

Wales = Cymru

Cardiff = Caerdydd

Big = Pwll

Did you catch that? The last word doesn't have any vowels! It doesn't even have a "y," which, we all learned in kindergarten, is sometimes a vowel. But nope, Welsh is just too good for vowels.

But, language confusion aside, Wales was lovely. We saw the Dr. Who exhibit (and I got to oogle at pictures of David Tennant, who played the Tenth Doctor, and is my favorite Doctor), and went to Big Pit, which is a coal mine in South Wales. Big Pit was super cool, because I got to wear a miners helmet with a light thingy and go into a freaking mine!

We also saw "Harry Potter," but that's not necessarily Welsh.

Peace out, cubscouts.

EDIT: Starbucks is now playing a cover of the Who's "Christmas Day" (from "Tommy"). I don't care what the title is, Starbucks, THIS IS NOT CHRISTMAS MUSIC. STOP RUINING MY SECOND-FAVORITE CONCEPT ALBUM/MOVIE OF ALL TIME!!!

Dear Hamlet: Please die. Love, Morgan

Sound: Sean is giggling at my kitty cat avatar

The Shakespeare class has a paper due Thursday. It is on Hamlet. The Shakespeare class does not like Hamlet (or Hamlet). See, Hamlet is a very long play, mainly because Hamlet takes forever to do anything. First, Hamlet is very depressed and wants to kill himself. But he doesn't. He just talks about it for a while. Then, Hamlet finds out that his uncle killed his father (just like in The Lion King!) and decides that he will take revenge on his uncle and will kill him (unlike in The Lion King). But he doesn't. He just talks about it for pretty much the entire play. Then, when he finally gets around to killing his uncle (on the third-to-last page of the text), he doesn't even kill him because of his father's death! Nope, Hamlet kills his uncle because his uncle accidentally poisoned Hamlet's mother.

Obviously, the play would have been much more action-packed and much less frustrating if Hamlet had just killed himself in Act I, scene 2 (which is when he says how much he really, really, really, really, really wants to die).

So now most of the Shakespeare class is stuck writing papers about a play that really is just far too long and talky. Fortunately, my paper is done. It was all about how Hamlet is self-contradictory and therefore inconclusive and pointless. Which is much more appropriate than what I wanted to write (which is the title of this post).

Peace out, cubscouts.

Morgan Goes to the Opera, Tries to Be Classy

Sound: "Get Back" by the Beatles

Last night, I went to the opera. Not just any opera, but the Royal Opera House. This event took several days of preparation. First, I had to go buy a dress. Then I had to call my mom and ask for accessory advice, because I just don't accessorize (fun fact: flowers in your hair, while cute, are not opera appropriate). Then I had to go buy shoes, because for whatever reason, when I packed for London, I decided that it was not necessary to bring a pair of plain black pumps. After putting together a lovely outfit, I had to review opera etiquette, figure out the best possible way to get myself to Covent Garden, and perfect my opera night game plan. I was ready.

And then it rained. Rain, dresses, and black pumps do not mix well. I was unsure of my ability to remain upright on dry ground, much less slippery cobblestones. At 4:00pm, I had two and a half hours to get changed and get to the ROH, and it was still raining. This was not acceptable. "STOP RAINING!" I shouted to the sky, "I AM MORGAN, COMMANDER OF ALL THAT IS GLITTERY AND UNICORN-RELATED, AND I SAY THAT RAIN IS NOT PERMITTED UNTIL 11:00PM THIS EVENING!" I wasn't sure if this would work, but it was worth a try. I went into my flat, changed, and nervously exited.

The rain had stopped. Morgan: 1, Weather: 0.

The opera itself was wonderful. My friend Aaron was on the mailing list for ROH, so he was able to get us amazing seats (stalls circle, which is basically the back of what Americans call the orchestra section) for 10 pounds. These seats are normally 175 pounds. Score. In addition to our fantastic seats, the production was breathtaking. We saw Romeo et Juliette, by Charles Gounod. Surprisingly, I was able to get the gist of maybe half of it without reading the supertitles (it's a French opera). Perhaps this means I'll pass French next semester? However, as enjoyable as the opera was, I was slightly on edge throughout. See, this wasn't just opera, it was London opera. And it wasn't just London opera, it was Royal Opera House London opera. I was very concerned about my behavior, because, as much as I love opera, I do not love the diva complex that some singers tend to get. I just think it gets ridiculous and is a rather tacky display of vanity. So, sometimes I end up laughing when I'm not supposed to (like when the diva from Madama Butterfly DROPPED the kid she was holding so that she could get to the conductor more quickly).

I have to say, I did pretty well, up until the bows. That's when I kind of lost it. Romeo came out (for his third solo bow) and just started going crazy, blowing about a million kisses to the audience, bowing approximately twenty times, and (my personal favorite) clutching his breast with his eyes closed as though he was having a heart attack. I just couldn't keep it in any longer; I cracked up. The other opera goers started at me and Aaron pretended not to know me. But it's all good, because, hey, I was happy.

And I was still clapping, so that's sort of polite. Right?

Peace out, cubscouts.

P.S. Registration was this week. Ithaca's registration website, Homerconnect, is truly evil and strikes fear in the hearts of students everywhere. Someone at IC decided to personify Homer (as we call it), and made a twitter account for it (NOTE: NOT FOR CHILDREN). Enjoy: http://twitter.com/homerconnect.

The Secret's Out

Sound: "Kids" by MGMT

Yesterday, there was a tube strike (again). Because I live closer to where we had class and where we needed to be for our play, I invited Sean, Aaron, and Will over for dinner. I made fajitas. This was a mistake, because now they (and, because I might as well share it, the entire world) now know that underneath my academically-driven, liberal, feminist exterior lies a 1950s housewife (or, as Will put it, "January Jones").

It might have been the avocado, tomato, and lime garnishes that gave me away.

However, I've decided that I'm just going to enjoy my newly exposed secret. Now I don't have to be sneaky when I go to Whole Foods to buy yummy fancy sausages and cheeses and plan meals for an entire week.

However, Sean is still responsible for dishes.

Peace out, cubscouts.