If you look for truth...

Never has this phrase ever meant so much to me in my life. 

Recently I have been engaged in torturous 40 day challenge (sometimes known as Lent). Last year I gave up Sprite and I thought that was bad. This year, however, proved to be even more challenging. 

This year I gave up meat. 

I could lie and pretend like I’ve flawlessly sailed through the last 37 days. I could also pretend like I didn’t get so excited over finally finding a place that sold beef jerky that I didn’t tear open the package and have a delicious morsel in my mouth before I realized what I was doing. 

But it has been really, really hard. And I did, for a brief and shinning moment, have that jerky on my tongue before I spat it back out. 

I also wish I could say that I discovered all sorts of new food interests within the last month. But I haven’t, really. (Although I have developed a bit of a quiche obsession.)

At best I’ve become more tolerant of eating things I don’t really like. Like seafood. Considering the fact that I don’t like shrimp I have been eating a rather obscene amount of it. Also chick peas. And vegetable soup.

Basically everything I’ve eaten since Mardi Gras has been accompanied by the thought ‘this would taste so much better with meat it in.’ Which, honestly has always been my life philosophy.  

And now my 40 days is almost up and I’ve already got 2 types of beef and some ham just waiting in my kitchen for consumption. And I am literally dreaming about all the sorts of meat I’m going to gorge myself on starting next week.

For the first time in my life I am heartily regretting that I didn’t really take Home Ec in 8th grade. At the time I was ecstatic that I transferred near the end of the semester and right as they finished their sewing unit. (I got to read a book until it was done and then joined the class for whatever came next.)
Oh, how the times have changed. 
A few weeks ago I noticed a hole in my favourite pair of pj pants. They’re about 4 sizes too big for me and sinfully comfortable. Leaving them be seemed an okay course of action. It wasn’t like I wore them around town or anything. Yet another benefit of not having a roommate- you can have holes wherever you want and no one is the wiser. 
Unfortunately, the hole started to grow (as they are wont to do) and my options were to either keep leaving it and be pantless in the not too distant future or to take matters into my own hands.
So I bought a sewing kit. 
‘How hard can it be?’ I asked myself as I sat down with my newly acquired kit and hole-y pants after reading a helpful wiki-how article. I won’t, specifically walk you through how much I struggled with this (supposedly) simple task. But I will share with you my live tweeting of the event. 

• ‘someone pretend to be surprised that i am absolute pants at sewing.’
• ‘can’t even put the needle and thread away properly #imightactuallybetheHulk’
• ‘nope. dont have any idea what i just did. but whatever it was i did it wrong. #adventuresinsewing’
• ‘took about an hour to ‘mend’ a rather small hole in a pair of pants. i guess it wasn’t a total failure?’
• ‘whatever. going to go write a law paper to prove to myself im not totally incompetent’
• ‘oooh. apparently the pants were not inside out. some things make sense now’ 

I did not tweet about stabbing myself with about 5 needles as I tried to put the lid back on the kit. I also failed to mention accidentally sewing the leg together for several stitches. 
All was not hopeless, however. As it turns out I’m rather good at actually threading the needle. For which I’m going to credit my years fixing épées. I’m also really good at undoing stitching which is fortunate because I can actually put my leg in my pants now. 
And, on the whole, I will count it as a success because I could (should I so desire) wear them in public now without being accused of indecency. 

Maybe I’ll put off tackling the collar of my sweater until I’ve gotten a bit more practice though. 

So maybe I haven’t done my laundry in what we will generously call a bit of a while. Somehow I still have clean clothes, so not all hope is lost.
But that aside, I shall review my new favourite reasons that my laundry still isn’t done. 

1. It’s too late at night.
2. It’s snowing. 
3. I have class in an hour. 
4. It’s raining. 
5. I still have clean clothes. 
6. It’s cold out. 
7. ‘I’m sure the laundry room is crazy busy right now.’ 
8. Spending an hour at the gym seems like a much better use of my time. 
9. Crap, I forgot. 
10. I’ve run out of pound coins. 
11. This duvet is just really comfortable. 
12. Just made a cup of tea. 

That said, I think I’m legitimately down to 2 pairs of underwear and a single pair of non-dress pants which I can justifiably wear once more before they need washing. So it’s definitely happening either today (although it is kind of late…) or tomorrow (which is a Friday…. and I could, conceivably just spend Saturday in sweats…)

So sometimes I actually do Real People things because I am on my way to becoming a Real Person (or so I’m told). 
So what does being a Real Person mean? Well, I’ll tell you what it doesn’t mean. 

• Wearing sweatpants and other such comfortable clothing everywhere all the time. 
• living off soup/other canned things/junk food/considering a cucumber a real meal. 
• not leaving bed for a day+
• sleeping until 2 in the afternoon
• basically everything else I am naturally inclined to do

So yes. I’m on the road to becoming a real person, but highly skeptical of the whole ordeal. No one will ever be able to convince me that Real People Clothes (minimum of jeans, fitted shirt, and heels) is a better option than my sweats and athletic slides. 

Anywho. This weekend is a Real Person Weekend which is something I have mixed feelings about in general. What were weekends invented for if not to escape being a Real Person? Sunday I work, which isn’t new or different. But Saturday I attended an International Law conference in town. 

At 8.03 am on Saturday morning my alarm went off. Awesome way to start the day. I only spent about 10 minutes checking all my necessary internet things before stumbling from bed. By 8.20 I was swapping out my sports bra for a dreaded real one and by 8.25 I was debating between my three pairs of appropriate shoes. Come 8.30 I was munching on an apple while swapping out my sports watch for a semi-Real one. (I say semi because it cost me about $6 at Target. But its analogue, so that’s something.)

At 8.44 I met my friend at a bus stop (having friends/social contact another Real Person thing) with both of us arriving just in time for our bus to pull away. Never fear, there’s another bus coming that will take us to the city centre. We have to pay for it, but at least we’ll get there on time. 8.57 and I’m distractedly ordering a medium chai latte and by 9.02 I’m guzzling it down like it’s my life blood. 9.05 we arrive at the venue and happen to run into Laurie, suddenly we’re those people who know someone. Hellos are exchanged and we joke about the early hour. We queue up, show confirmation of our registration, receive our tickets and a complimentary tote bag. Great, not only am I carrying a Real Person Bag (known to many as a purse) I know have this extra bag. Such, I suppose, is the strife of Real People Life. 

*Insert here an entire day of Real People things. Like sitting in the same chair for hours on end and not changing positions every .2 seconds and eating lunch and having intellectual discussions ON A SATURDAY*

By two I was finally getting fed up with this Real People-ness and finally gave in to the urge to put my hair up which had been plaguing me since I woke up. Come 4.30 I was rushing back home, throwing open my door, shucking all that Real Person attire and pulling on my pjs. 

Fast forward to getting home on Sunday (post work) with the realization that I spent more time in jeans and heels over the weekend than I probably had for the last two weeks. 

As some of you might know I’ve just made my way back to the UK after spending a month back in the good ol’ US of A. As per, travelling was a stress inducing and tedious task. Here are some take away lessons both learned and re-learned.

1. Research the airline a bit first.
   Not really strictly necessary, but nice to do. Maybe arriving to the airport 7 hours prior to my flight leaving couldn’t have been avoided but it would have eased my nerves to have been aware of the fact that the airline didn’t open check in until 4 hours after I got to the airport. Also I might’ve peed at the rest stop we hit up en route to the airport. Also, make sure you check to see if they’re feeding you. THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT.
2. If during said 7 hours in the airport you happen to be craving some McDonald’s it’s okay to indulge.
   After all, if you haven’t done your research, you won’t end up going over 24 hours without eating something. Because the only thing to make the stress and exhaustion of travelling worse is if you do it all on an empty stomach. 
3. Don’t rely on the airport bookstores.
   Especially if you like reading real books and not travel trash. All of my issues with e-readers aside, one of their biggest flaws is you can’t really read them during the lengthy customs queue, at least not without risk of scolding/confiscation. So I thought I’d just find something at the newsstand only there wasn’t a single book that I was interested in. Woefully I boarded my flight dreading the hours spent at customs with nothing to do.
4. SHORT FLIGHTS MEAN NO FOOD (apparently). 
   Even if you are flying across an ocean. 
5. Customs either takes forever or no time at all. There is not comfortable in between. 
   Last time I was lucky and got myself into a special student-only queue. The time before that I think it took me something like 3 hours to get through. I had assumed this time around would be like that and thus did not have all necessary documents ordered by my turn. Luckily, I had the nicest guy ever. Who took one look at me and said, ‘You must be a student. Most tourists your age look more excited. But you’ve got that bored look about you.” Thus giving me enough time to get organized. 
6. Carrying a 24.3 kilo bag up three floors is 10 billion times easier when you aren’t wearing heels.
   Unsurprising and duly noted.
7. If at all possible, have food of substance waiting at the other end. 
   It took me two days to go grocery shopping and living off biscuits and candy is not all it is cracked up to be. 
8. Resist the urge to sleep and maybe take some form of sleep aid when you finally give in. 
   The former I’ve know forever, and rarely have trouble adhering to. The latter is a new one. After 24+ hours of travelling I desperately resisted the urge to sleep for many hours. After 30 hours of wakefulness I decided to give in. It was about four hours later than desired and about 5 hours earlier than I should’ve. But in my foolishness I figured I would be fine, after all, I’ve never had problems sleeping 15 hours when exhausted. 
   SURPRISE, 7 hours later I was wide awake. And somehow my body has decided now is the time to develop a need for a cycle. So, at present, I’m getting to sleep at about 9 and waking up at 3. At least I’ll have time to go to the gym before my 10am classes?