いやはや、イギリスの学生にはびっくりさせられる。

どういうことかって？それは勉強量である。

何しろ勉強しないのだ。８時間しっかり寝てそれで勉強を沢山したと思っている。成績が落ちても平気で飲みに行ってしまう。ペーパーは終わってないがキャンプには行く。それでコースが辛いと言っている始末である。

あのねー…

勉強って試験前に一ヶ月間ちょこちょこっと勉強してはい終わりじゃないんだよ。

おまけに何も危惧に思っていないのだからおめでたい。

私の高校がきつかっただけかも知れないがこちらで平気で行われていることが高校では絶対通用しなかった、なんてことが沢山ある。たとえばペーパーを一年遅れで提出する。

あたしなんて３０分後れもやったことないよ！！

１週間前に提出したことなら何度かあるけど。

どういう神経をしているんだ。おまけにそれを受け付ける教授も教授である。高校だったら三日遅れでもう期限切れ。あとは泣こうが喚こうがとにかくだめ、提出しても受け付けませんだった。

風邪とかの時はどうしたかって？最高２週間の猶予が来る。それ以上はだめ。二週間あれば終わると思っているのだろう。確かにみんな終わらせていた。

おまけに社交遊しないと上に上がれないと思っているらしい。

はい、ここで考えて見ましょう。

こちらはＡさん。部活は一応入っており、バイトもして成績も優秀。独学で勉強もしており、品行方正。

こちらはＢさん。部活は沢山入っているが成績はあまりよくなく、バイトもしていない。友達としょっちゅう遊びに出かけ、よく飲んでいる。解剖でふざけて危ないことをする事もしばしば。

あなただったらどっちを雇いますか？

私はＡさんを選ぶんだけどね。働く兵隊としてはＡさんの方が能率いいじゃん。仕事もきちんとしてくれそうだし。

しかしイギリスではＢさんがＡさんより上に立つらしい。（と言うのは個人的にいうと子供の考え。大人はそんな馬鹿じゃない。）

それでもってＢさん見たいのに限ってアメリカに行くなんて言い出したりする。世の中そんなに甘くない。

おまけに吸収がいいからって生物の学位を持っている人専用の医学部４年間コースにアメリカ文化の学位の人が入るべきだって？笑わせるんじゃない。そうしたら苦しみながら生物をやった人に失礼だろ！ちゃんと計画を立てなかったのも自分の責任。それなりの報いはちゃんと来る。

つーかわかってないのかね、コネって言うのは上の人と作るもんだって。クラスメートとコネを作ってどうする！そいつが引っ張ってくれるわけじゃなし、足を引っ張られて終わりだろうに。

考え方があまりにも幼稚だと思うことがこの頃よくある。

いやー、すごいですね、今時の情報網は！

なんでかって？ちょっと説明して進ぜよう。

なんと！「さすがの猿飛」を見つけたのである。

だってあれあたしが生まれる前のアニメだぞ。

なんでネットにあるねん！

まあ、「桃太郎侍」まであったからなー…

あと「魁！男塾」。あんな馬鹿馬鹿しいアニメ誰が持っていたんだか知らないがとにかくあるのである。世の中は広い。

もし見たかったらここをどうぞ！

バレエ観賞（そういやシルヴィア見に行ってきました！すげー高いチケットだった。おまけに踊り子一人倒れたし。二度と見に行かない）しか楽しみがない私にとってアニメと漫画は特別である。なんでかって？

１．金がかからない。
２．外に出なくて済む。

そんなわけでＤ．Ｇｒａｙ－ｍａｎの７２話を探していたのですが…

こんなものに遭遇しました。

な、なんと！宝塚のエル・アルコンのポスターだそうです。エル・アルコンを読んでいない私にとってはあんまり興味もない代物だったんだけど…青池先生の漫画は読んでますからちょっと興味あったんで、はい。

そんなわけでしげしげとポスターを見てみた後、ティリアンの顔を思い出してみました。

ってこのポスターグロイ！エグイ！シツコイ！ウザイ！

大体ティリアンってスペイン人っしょ。

スペイン人でこんな唇厚いのってムーア人だぞ。

つーかティリアンってイタさん系なんすけどね、顔は（ってなんでティキミック調）。

「ロベリア～♪、乙女の乙女による乙女のための会、別名ヅカ部！」なんて声が聞こえてきそう。（あと環君の悲鳴ね）

ちなみにこのブログを読んでロンドンにルミナスがうじゃうじゃいると思っている方々、残念ながらそんなやついません。レディングには結構いたけどね。

あ、一人いたか。ジャンキービリー。１月半ばから行方知れず。ブリクストンで逮捕されてたりして…

何の事じゃいと思っているそこのあなた！まだ呆れてはいけません。私にはくだらなく心配していることが山のようにあるのだ。

とまあこんなわけで数学の中間テストが返ってきました。って…

まあ、首席だったからいいんだけどね…

ってこのPoint of Inflection　の定義の違いは何？何これ？！

同じ英語圏だろうが！意味を変えるな、馬鹿ヤロー！

と言うわけで一点引かれました。ま、答えはあっていたし、よしとしようか。（宿題の方はもうちょっと気を入れてやらなきゃなー…定義を書かないと言って点数引かれてばっかりいるし…）

ちなみに昨夜の約一時頃、地震がありました。地震なんてなつかしー！日本出て以来地震なんて経験してないよ、あたしゃ。

Today was infested with Japanese, calories, and weird occasions. Not saying that's bad, but after being away from Japan for so long it can get slightly eerie.

I woke up around 6:30 for no reason, stayed in bed till 10:00. Today's plan: Get to Richmond, get some food either at Subway (to the right of the Richmond Station), then head over to Maison Blanc (left of the station), grab some cake, then go to work.

On the train I encountered to Japanese females who were squealing about Madam Tussaud's. They had the typical look of "I didn't get good enough grades in high school to go to a university so I worked my butt off to save up some money to go to London, and now I'm going tourista and looking like an idiot and embarrassing my fellow Japanese". I inched away before I got discovered that I was one of them.

Well, suddenly I decided that I wanted to eat my lunch at Maison Blanc as well. It was a little pricey, but it was well worth it... I ate "Mediterranean", which was really good (love those dried tomatoes), and Concerto, which was really ironic because I was reading through Brahms' Concerto then. It was awfully good though. Hmm.

Taught the sisters (the elder's getting better, although it took her 5 minutes to get 100 divided by 5... it's 20, idiot.)

Then something awfully weird happened.

You know how you're supposed to have two other people in the world who look just like you? (Well, maybe we only say that in Japan. Dunno.) Anyway, as I was coming out of Subway, I saw a guy in the shop next to Subway who looked EXACTLY like Billy. Even wore glasses like him.

My thought? "Wait a minute, he lives in freaking Surrey, and it's 5:00PM in the afternoon on a Sunday. Why the hell is he in Richmond?"

He walked behind me, followed me to the station, then disappeared.

Came home on the bus after grabbing Teriyaki Chicken in Subway after all, where I encountered another duo of Japanese females, who were saying something like "London is da place to live in, foshizzle!" (okay, maybe not the ghetto talk but something close). I pretended that I was too busy looking out the window.

Got home, and my other student wasn't there. My thought: what the?! Apparently I didn't "pick up the phone", so without waiting for five minutes she just went home. It's not like she's a busy woman, oh no! Then she blamed it on me. But since this is business, I was the one who apologized. Maybe I should quit my job with that retard. She's not paying me enough anyway.

Most likely the "Billy" I saw was a random dude who had fluffy hair like him and wore weird glasses like him.

But... it was pretty damn freaky.

Actually, Nicholas Cage never stepped on my foot. That was just to get your attention (cue in Pathetique Sonata). But if he did, I'd sue the ass out of him to get money and publicity. Ha (:P)

But actually, Nicholas Cage does make an appearance in my post today. Let me explain.

This week just plainly sucked. I went high on caffeine, overdosed on caffeine, went through hell trying to detox caffeine, did not sleep decently, did not eat decently (but then again, that's nothing new). I just had a really shitty week. Not only that, one of my students has failed to pay me for two weeks consecutively, and I'm about to fire (?) her if she fails to pay the coming Wednesday. People come to me for damn help while they go out drinking... and I have come to a discovery that I REALLY shouldn't be helping them anyway, I never needed their help in the first place (considering that I can just borrow one of the elder student's notes, for instance), and that quite frankly, with my excruciating schedule with 3 students, studying biochemistry, orgo, stats, and modern physics, studying for the exams, I just don't have the time or the energy to care about others anymore. There are some things that I've been wanting to do that I couldn't because I was so busy (like... visiting my guardian's house, for instance). But that's that.

On Friday night at precisely 3:41AM, just as I was dozing off after rolling around my bed in sheer agony and nausea, my phone trilled out the baroque ring tone that can become really annoying if it keeps ringing. I woke up just in time for the voice mail to switch on... so, after 30 seconds or so, I accessed my voice mail. Here is the message I received:

"Heeeeeeey! I'm at Paddington right now! Come pick me up, mate."

It was in a guy's voice. It sounded utterly drunk. My first thought was "Er, who the hell is this guy", since I couldn't place the voice. Or the number. So I had a random drunk guy calling me at 3:41 AM to pick him up from the Paddington station. (Note to readers: PLEASE check the number before you hit dial, please? Promise?)

My next thought was "Do trains even RUN this early in the morning around Paddington?" Considering that the tube does not, my logical deduction said no. So what the hell did this guy want?

Me, being quite uncharitable and frankly too tired to care, decided not to pick the mystery guy up from Paddington. Hell, he can be mugged and see if I care. It was his damn fault for dialing the wrong number. I went back to bed.

And could not go back to sleep.

How much does that suck?! A lot, let me tell you. So let's summarise - here was this idiot who called the wrong number at a ridiculous wee hour of the morning, asking for whoever it was meant to to pick him up from Paddington. And because he dialed the wrong number I got to be the poor victim who was woken up at 3:41AM, just as I was recovering from caffeine detox, to get a message that wasn't even for me! I'm pretty sure the guy was not Lady Macbeth but he sure did kill off my sleep.

Then today just sucked. To start off, I had an awful dream in which I was the 11-year-old offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Smith from the film Mr. and Mrs. Smith. What does that mean? It meant that Brad Pitt was my father and Angelina Jolie my mother. That was quite traumatising in itself. As if that wasn't enough, Orlando Bloom was my idiot brother who seemed to revel in the fact that he was pretty. Never mind that I think he's one of the ugliest creatures seen on the 6 ft screen these days. His utter gayness was bordering insanity.

Mummy Smith, AKA Angelina Jolie, asked me to go down to the pantry to get some bananas because she was baking banana muffins. (I have no idea what Daddy Pitt was doing... don't want to know, in all seriousness.) So I went down to the pantry, which was in the basement for some reason (I personally think that pantry in the basement is a dumb idea...), and opened the door.

And there were three shelves on each side of the wall, lined with bananas after bananas after bananas...

The room looked yellow, although the wall was white.

You know how scary that is? I found it quite frightening. After daring myself to go into the banana room and grabbing a few bananas, I went upstairs to hand them over to Mummy Jolie, who peeled them, broken them in 1/2 inch pieces, and then proceeded to mush them.

What this means in psychoanalysis, I don't even want to know. I'd leave the analysis up to you.

I left the dorm at 11:00AM to go to work, hoping to get to Richmond at 12:30 PM, grab something to eat, then go off to teach. Usually it takes an hour to get from London Bridge to Richmond, but today the District Line only ran to West Kensington. "Fine," I thought, after seeing the notice at Westminster, "I'll just get off at Earl's Court, switch to Piccadilly, get to Hammersmith, and catch the replacement bus from there." Because IT CLEARLY SAID that the bus ran from Hammersmith via Gunnersbury and Kew Gardens to Richmond.

The first misery occurred while I was ON the train. There was this Chinese lady who seemed to be intent on trying to get to Richmond. However, all she did was point at the Richmond Station on the mini tube map, point at West Kensington, and say, "West Kensington". Don't know about you, dear reader, but to me that conveys not much. I had no idea if she was asking if she needed to get off at West Ken, could switch at West Ken, or what. I slowly explained to her how to get to Richmond - quite slowly - twice, but after that she smiled at me, nodded, and said, "West Kensington?" all the while pointing at the location on the map. Was she listening? No. Of course not. Because it's the thing to do after asking a complete stranger a question. Gah!

I got off at Earl's Court - the lady certainly didn't - and switched to Piccadilly. Got to Hammersmith. Got off the tube. And then was promptly notified that apparently every SINGLE poster indicating engineering works was different in all of London, because actually, no, there was no replacement bus. And yes, it did say so on the stupid poster by the assistance window, but it also said that it only ran from 9:00 PM and beyond on Sunday evening. And yes, they did put up a huge sign saying "REPLACEMENT BUS C TO RICHMOND" with a HUGE arrow under the sign. The replacement bus just simply wasn't running. Why for? I have no idea.

Now, here, two questions pop into my mind. Number one, why run it from 9:00PM, when there's hardly anyone using it? That's just inefficient, and it wastes petrol. Number two, why put up a sign that is no longer valid? This just baffles me.

So I caught the 391 bus from Hammersmith to Richmond. Now, usually it takes about 20 minutes by the Underground to get from Hammersmith to Richmond. On the bus, 40. This time, it took a full hour and a half, which means that I got to the Richmond station approximately at 1:00PM. When my class was about to begin. So that made me 10 minutes late.

During the bus ride, several things happened. First, they tried to squish approximately 40 people on a single bus, which just isn't plausible on Sunday afternoons. Second, this brat decided that it'd be awesome fun to touch my back and my hair while I was standing, earning a severe death glare from me. She then promptly began to cry. The mother became hysterical. I pretended that I couldn't hear her due to my earphones, and ignored her. Much screaming and hysteria ensued.

Third, another brat decided that he absolutely had to stand in the coolest way possible, never mind that no one was paying attention, and took up the space that could have accommodated three. He then proceeded to stand without holding onto the rails or anything, and when the bus came to a screeching halt he promptly crashed into me without further ado. For heaven and hell's sake HOLD ONTO SOMETHING unless you have a balance of a tightrope walker. But oh no. This kid could hardly stand straight every time the bus braked.

Fourth, this guy (and this is where the title comes in) decided to step on my foot. Really hard. For some reason. And then he decided to KEEP HIS FOOT ON MY FOOT the entire time. With full weight on it. Needless to say, I was beyond vexation. I asked him to please remove his foot from my foot. He ignored me, because he was too busy talking to his girlfriend who looked about 17. I kicked him with my left heel of my boot. It left a smudge on his grey slacks.

Fifth, another guy who was with his girlfriend kept staring at me the entire bus ride. That was very disconcerting and unnerving. Doesn't the guy know that it's rude to stare?

Sixth, and lastly, it took my 4th grade pupil AN HOUR to understand the concept of "base times width equals area of a parallelogram" today. I had to cut tiny bits of paper and demonstrate. I was NOT that slow when I was in 4th grade.

So after that, I am quite ready to give up on mankind, curl up in my bed only to be never seen again. I now understand the enchanting attraction of living as a hermit. I might even be one very soon...

ってお前馬鹿か！

そうっス、とうとう見つけたんス、高橋秀樹の桃太郎侍。

って言っても最初の三エピソードだけだけどね～。

って言っても探し回っていたわけじゃありません。たまたま見つけたんス。

やっぱ統計で疲れた時は桃太郎侍に限る！ってか？（さみしー）

でもやっぱ不思議なことがあるのは認めざる得ない。

大体あの数え歌はなんじゃい。数えてないじゃないか！

九九じゃあるまいし、　１に対して２０人斬るのはずるいぞ。

おまけにあんな血糊がべっとりついた絹の着物なんてどこで洗ってんだ？まさか名前にちなんで桃太郎のおばあさんみたいに川でざぶざぶ洗ってんじゃないだろうな。

おまけにあんな般若の面かぶってあんな派手な着物を着たやつが夜中に走っていたら絶対妖しい！つか妖しすぎ！

思い切り「ヤバイやつ」じゃん。

と言って朝の４時にけたたましく笑っている声が海を越えて聞こえてきたらそれは多分アタシっス。（笑）

とある人から質問のメールが来たのでそれに答える意味もあってこのエントリーを書いているのだが考えてみるとよくわけがわからないことばかりである。

…

まあ、それはいいとして…

Ｑ１．ロンドン大学って何校あるの？
Ａ１：僕ちゃんもさっぱり知りません。有名な学校は約三校しかないので。

Ｑ２．どうやってはいったの？
Ａ２：適当に入りました。はい、すんません。

Ｑ３．どの学校？
Ａ３：王校だす。正式名称は自分で調べちくり。

Ｑ４．何学部？
Ａ４：恥ずかしながら医学部です、はい。

Ｑ５．英語力はどれくらい？
Ａ５：そこら辺の現地人顔負けだと高校時代言われましたがこれは訓練の賜物です。討論部よ、私の土曜日、返しておくれ！

Ｑ６．費用は？
Ａ６：さっぱり見当つきません。いささか適当です。

Ｑ７．友達とか彼女いる？
Ａ７：レズじゃないので彼女はいません。友達は二人っす。

Ｑ８．やっとけばよかったと思うことは？
Ａ８：一日３６時間にする方法学んどきゃよかった。

他にも質問があったらメールくでー。（統計学に戻っていく）

If you know me well enough, I'm quite interested in DID's. In fact, I plan to go into neuropsychiatry ( a mix between neurology and psychiatry). Well, at least that's one of the options.

Anyway.

NEWS FLASH NEWS FLASH! BILLY MILLIGAN'S FILM IS FINALLY BEING PRODUCED! (insert incoherent screams of utter joy).

Ever since I read the book I wanted to see a film about it... and Milligan's selecting the actor to play himself, apparently.

I'm personally voting for Marko Malic or Christian Bale, but considering that Christian Bale already played a madman from American Psycho (awesome movie by the way), I'm not sure if he's willing to do this one. Marko Malic would be good as well; he has that vulnerable look. Milligan himself seems to be keen on Christian Slater (ew) or Johnny Depp (no, he's too sexy and he does NOT look vulnerable).

PLEASE PICK CHRISTIAN BALE OR MARKO MALIC! For my sake! (laughter)

Actually, I just realized... Christian Bale does sort of look like Billy Milligan... it's God's WILL!

友達と話していたらこんな話が出た。

私：「結婚？する気無い。」
Ｊ：　「なんで？」
私：「性格見てると出来そうにないし。探す気無いし。忙しいし。彼氏とかウザそう。」
Ｊ：　「寂しくないの？」
私：「全然。仕事と結婚してそれでいいんじゃないかな、私は。」
Ｊ：　「そうなの？私が頑張っているのは結構結婚のためもあるけど。」
私：「首席は一人でなればいいから。つーか首席が他にいたら本当に腹が立つ！」

勿論最後のは私の密かな考えであるが多分これは本当だと思う。

全然関係ないことであるが脊椎動物学の教授がなぜヒトデの話ばかりするのか私にはわからないのだがとりあえずレポートを書かなければいけないので調べていてわかったこと：

ヒトデって気持ちワリー！

悪すぎ！

肉食だし！千切ってもそこからもうひとつのヒトデになるし！なんかはっつくし！いやに獰猛だし！

おまけにあのハリセンボンみたいなヒトデとかやめてほしい！

しかしなぜあの教授が気持ち悪い動物ばっかり嬉々として話すのかわけがわからない。今までに講義されたこと：ミミズ、ヒトデ、ホヤ、蛙、トカゲ、なまず、ドジョウ、などと私が絶対知りたくもないし、知らなくていいし、見たくない、聞きたくないものばかりである。あの教授は私のことが嫌いなのか？！？！それともゲテモノ好き？

とりあえずヒトデのレポートを仕上げなければいけないのでちょっと失礼。

ママが焼いたクリスマスケーキでごわす。ちなみに私は食べただけ。


あと「花より男子」が評判になっていたので見てみた。そして一言：

「ありえねーっつーの！」

これぞ少女漫画の王道。何もない子がすべてある男子に見初められてちゃんちゃん。

でも世の中そんな上手くいかないんだよね～。

私：ねえ、ママ、仮に天変地異が起きたとして私が仮面ノリダーの見すぎで試験落としたらどうする？
母：ええ？仮面ノリダーの水着を着て試験落とすの？

．．．？

とんでもない親子である。

Happy belated New Years! Hopefully I'll be a little more productive than 2007... but since that's my new year's resolution, it's highly unlikely that I'd keep that promise. Eh.

My parents trashed my idea of volunteering in Africa. Apparently they still believe that Africa is a dark, wild continent filled with lions and other zoological animals.

Well, no. That's not the case. But they do think that the entire continent consists of Sudan. So, they trashed it.

They also prohibited me from joining Médecins Sans Frontières. Their reasoning? "You're going to get killed".

Okay...

Whatever.

I also hunted down Kevin Kalisz to... STALK HIM! No, I'm just kidding. The fact is, throughout the three years in which I shared my high school life with that insane genius, I talked to him the grand total of... three times. That's averaging once per year. Sad, isn't it?

Then all of a sudden I get propelled into medical school and all of a sudden I'm left behind thinking "Crap, I don't know anyone around my age who's in med school!" Except, surprise surprise, Kevin. That genius, in my opinion, should have went to CalTech to major in engineering, but for some reason he gave up is high school dream to become a doctor (cue in about thirty bazillion question marks, on your mark, get set, go!).

So, Facebook it is.

I'm going back tomorrow. Then it's exam time. And then I have to finish the papers, since I left my Physics paper on my disc on my desk in my room and I basically screwed everything up (CRAP).

Ew.

Location: At my desk
Music: Deep by Nine Inch Nails
Mood: Agitated

So, I just had a fight with one of my closest friends. Fuck.

The beginning was this. I needed to know where the tournament was; I basically have the fast food chains of most schools in the area inputted into my head, and I needed to know where I'd be eating on Saturday. And here came the reply:

"Dunno. lol."

Something snapped in me.

If you know who I am, then you know exactly who I had a fight with.

Yup. My debate partner.

I guess I always felt guilty to Ian. Everytime we didn't do well, I always blamed myself. I'm weighing him down, I thought. It's my fault we didn't do so well. I should have done better. It's me.

The year came and went. I went off to university; and away from the midst of things, I began to learn something.

Maybe... just maybe... it wasn't my fault?

Mr. Clark never tries, and I can understand why. In a way he's a complex creature, but in so many ways he's excessively immature. Because he cannot handle defeat, he refuses to try; that way he always has the excuse "I didn't try hard, so I didn't do so well. If I try hard, I can do this."

I'd know. I used to do that. And the awful thing is... the longer you say it, the longer that "not-trying failure me" gets stuck, and when you do try you fail anyway. And then what are you going to do?

He's brilliant, I'll give that to anyone. But he's wasting talent that I have craved, the talent that no matter how hard I tried, I could not achieve. It's almost like you're starving, and you're seeing through a window a guy who has a basket full of food and is purposefully throwing it away.

And THAT... just pissed me OFF.

Something snapped in me, and every agonizing jealousy I felt, that insane, gripping obsession, burst from the deepest hole I kept it shut in, and poured over me like some kind of acidic rain. Out of my mind tumbled out the harshest words I ever knew, the most painful phrases one can say to anyone.

Despite my constant whining and moaning about my classes, I am actually at where I want to be. My life is half-set. I will qualify as a physician, become one of the respected human beings who will know power, respect, and wealth.

But it didn't come easy. I begged, cried, cheated, stole, worked for it.

Actually, everything I have I've begged, cried, cheated, stole, and worked for.

He's just drifting through. And despite the fact that he has done well so far, there is always a big hole somewhere dug deeply into the earth. And while someone like I can climb up and hobble on because I've fallen over so many times that I'm just used to it, people like him aren't. They fall, because everyone does, and then they can't climb up.

But gah! I screwed up. And currently I'm so overwhelmed with schoolwork that I don't even know where to begin the patching.

Actually, right now, I really don't feel like it either. Hopefully he'll become hurt enough to actually start working...

Location: On my bed
Music: She Moves by Karaja
Mood: KNACKERED

As I look back at this semester, I have to say ONE thing... it went by with a WHOOSH. It just went by. And as we learned knew bitterness, loneliness, joy and victory, we grew up just a little bit.

Each day passed with me learning something new about myself; my weaknesses, my strength, just me. I cried. I laughed.

And here I am...

After the final and rather traumatizing session with none other than Dr. David Payne Esq (no, he's not an esquire, I just tagged that on), I am FINALLY FINISHED with Mammalian Biology, since I'm going home next Friday and I'll be at Fenwick around this time (YEAH!). Let's see. What was so traumatizing today?

Oh, I remember now. The fact that people use (or used) yogurt as contraceptive.

Now I can't eat yogurt.

"Now, Dr. Fashionista, how on earth do you use yogurt as a contraceptive?" You might ask. Alas, dear readers, it's not taken orally.

That's right. You just read that correctly. It's taken... down there.

EWWWWWW!

Not only that, I finally learned why some types of cats yowl at the final moment of sexual intercourse. No, it's not a yowl of pleasure, or protest against the act's finish. Oh no. It's something much... much... worse.... (and if you don't want to read it, I suggest you stop NOW before you sue me).

Apparently, some cats' erectile male reproductive organ (and yes, I could have said that in one word) HAS BARBS AT THE TIP.

OUCH!

And... well, that's why the female cat yowls. It's nothing but a screaming agony of pain (and any woman would be screaming too, if that happened to them).

So that was the extent of my education in mammalian biology. I think I just wasted 10 weeks worth of lecture time...

うー、美童が腹が立つ。

いや、キャラ自体は好きなのである。あんなアホなキャラはいないのでずいぶん笑わせてもらっている。

問題はドラマのほうである。

原作の美童はこれである。ブロンドの長髪で典型的な北欧人の美形である。だから私はこんなイメージを持っていたのである。（これだったら女もついてくるわな）
それなのに...ドラマと来たら...






これは無いでしょ、これは。

違う...全然違う！

美童はその美貌だけがとりえなのにそれをなくしたら存在価値ゼロである。

いくら原作ファンのためにカラコン入れたって顔が違うからダメだよ、あんた。

ちなみにどうやらパスできそうなのは悠理だけである。たとえば...

主人公の魅録は　これである。あごがこけていて目が釣りあがっているグラサンが似合いそうな不良少年である。それが...


似合わない！全然似合わない！

馬鹿にするのもいい加減にしてほしい。

野梨子といえば市松人形のような顔のはずである。それなのに...

かわいくない！華奢じゃない！野梨子を返せ！



清四郎君はこれである。

可憐は化粧のしすぎである。大体可憐があんなきゃバスケみたいな顔な訳が無いだろう！

おーいー。

ちなみに医龍のほうはかなり顔が忠実なので満足である。せめてあそこぐらいまでの質にしてほしかったものである。

I just realised that I had a new batch of comments waiting. Since I am a student with no life who sleeps most of the time, it is very interesting that people are actually wasting their time to comment on my blog (apart from those who are just amused with my rantings and my misery), especially because their attempt to conceal their attempts are kind of failing miserably. This made me contemplate on several human traits in a House-esque style, thanks to the newest episode of House playing in the background at the moment.

First of all: this makes no sense to me, and I'm hoping someone can explain it to me. If you don't like someone, why bother checking their Facebook page? Or reading their blog? Or in fact, do anything remotely related to them? This makes no sense to me whatsoever. It's sort of like... taking pleasure in eating nasty food. Or enjoying a smell of vomit. (well, dunno, there's probably people who like doing that.) I mean, I can understand "I'm going to take out my annoyance in a certain incident relating to a tutorial group today", but... doing that won't change your situation. And... to be honest, that's a very American thing to do (said via my experience). And that is currently not said as a compliment.

...

Second of all... crap, I forgot what I was going to say. Err... (tries to remember) Oh yeah. Why does Ayumi Hamasaki sing like that? It's very annoying.

Third... why does the heating turn off at precisely 11 o'clock?

Fourth... why do people never read carefully enough? Didn't they ever do those exercises where they say "read this through first", then list bunch of stuff to do, and then at the end says "now just write your name on the paper, don't do anything else"?

Fifth... WHY DID HOUSE FIRE COLE? House never said anything about playing the game with authorities. He's just as cutthroating as Amber.

...

On a complete tangent, quoth Wilson, "You know, in some cultures, hiring people to steal other people's underpants is considered wooing. You should move there. Cuz over here, it's just... you know... creepy."

Ahahaha.

I think I just got dumped (or take the limit of it, to be precise).

The worse thing is, I'm rather preoccupied at the moment trying to find the precise Dior palette that I saw in a magazine a week ago. I'm not even bothered about the current "catastrophe" right now, because I really want that Dior palette! I'm craving it. I'm dying for it.

Considering that Dior has been releasing a brand new palette every year, I highly doubt I'll find it ever again, unless I see the magazine. Which depresses me.

Sephora doesn't have it (GASP! I thought Sephora had everything!). I'm pretty sure it was from Dior, but it might have been YSL - they sometimes release similar palettes, making my life pretty confusing.

I also want to tape my Physics lecturer while he's talking, play it really fast and watch it, first without sound and second with sound, which will make him sound like a hyperactive chipmunk. That'd be worth few laughs.

Argh! I can't find the palette. And now I'm really sleepy.

Ta ta.

なぜか突然寿司が食べたくなった。

もちろんロンドンだからすし屋がそこら辺にある訳ではないので今の所アウトである。

そういえばもう日本に十年以上帰っていないのである。厳密に言うと１３年である。東京もだいぶ変わったことだろう。

全然関係ないことだが寮生活はやっぱり嫌いである。いくら洗剤を皆で使うからと言ったって私の戸棚から勝手に出して使うのは止めて欲しい。聞かないで使ったなら戻しておくべきである。

まあ、キッチンに入ることはもともとあまりないのでそう問題ではないが...

あと夜中にキッチンで騒ぐのも止めて欲しい。こっちは疲れているんだ!

I just thought that I should post this result...

So... I spent the afternoon today chasing amoebae around under a microscope, or, more merrily named, "A Microscopic Tag Game". Needless to say, I am now sporting a killer headache, irritability, loneliness, acute Tourette's, and... I'm just plain miserable, okay! I also had to walk back from New Hunts in the rain. That didn't help my mood.

So today was amoebae practical, meaning that we got amoeba specimen and got to look at it under the microscope. Histology is bad by itself because apparently Payne sees crap that I certainly don't, leading to the conclusion that he's probably tripping on LSD, but it's bad when your specimen moves around, grows pseudopods, and wiggles. Then it just sucks tenfold, especially when your microscope isn't too good and you see black dots rolling around. Ew.

First, we did the buccal scrapes. Remember when you had to take the sample of your cheek cells and look it under a microscope? Yeah, we did that. And needless to say, considering that it was after lunch, we literally saw crap that we ate for lunch. It was gross.

Then it was amoeba. And the amoebic food was also swimming around as well in the water. Add that to Billy's water conspiracy and I'm now mortally afraid to drink water, but I need to, because I'm still trying to lose weight and water's a good way to do that. (Yeah, somebody remind me not to ask him about conspiracies...). Anyway, I definitely don't like amoebae, especially when they're alive and they wiggle around and move. I also do not like playing microscopic tag, because basically you're going to get a level seven migraine and very tired eyes.
Oh, and I also found my 29-year old, Abercrombie-wearing, blue-brace sporting wacko lecturer on Facebook. I am permanently scarred. TEACHERS are not supposed to be ON FACEBOOK! That is just morally wrong. But then, considering that it's Adam most likely he's still in a mental state of a third year in university, not a responsible Ph.D.

I also want to tape him and watch his lecture, on 1.5 speed, without sounds. That ought to cheer me up...

Thank you very much to Nelli and Dan for reading my blog! (To my friends... I EXPECT YOU TO READ THIS. Just kidding. But I read you guys' stuff too, so we're even.)

Anyway, I digress. Back to the topic...

About the Tube.

Actually, I just hate the Tube.

I also hate Green Park station on Piccadilly line, but I'll get to the later.

Anyway! So I was trying to get to work today in Richmond, and for that I usually get onto Jubilee at London Bridge, change at Westminster to District line to Richmond. However, when I got off at Westminster to go up the escalator to get to Platform 4 for District Line...

"Due to engineering work District Line will not go to Acton Town or Richmond today. Please use Piccadilly to get to Turnham Green. A replacement bus service is running from Turnham Green to Richmond."

Erm.

See, if District Line was running (which rarely occurs these days), I'd have gotten there at 1:50, walked from Richmond station to the destination, got there at two on the dot. But alas, the London Underground System, despite being around for... oh, I don't know, 100 years, they STILL DON'T WORK PROPERLY. You know, you'd think they'd give up after trying for 100 years to get the damn thing right, but oh no! They're still trying, causing much people MUCH misery.

Anyway, I got on the District Line, got off at South Ken (or South Kensington for those of you who aren't in London and don't know the lingo), switched to Piccadilly, got to Turnham Green, nearly got my head chopped off when I tried to get on the bus, but got there - 30 minutes late. It was not my fault, though, so my employer let it go.

At work I actually had a coherent text message from The Elusive (aka the current guy I'm after), and my friend. I excused myself and borrowed the toilet while the kid was solving problems, and replied to the text via phone call. I felt like I was in high school again.

The problem was... on the way back.

FIRST of all, it was damn cold, and Turnham Green station happens to be OUTSIDE. And the damn train was late, so I got to freeze my butt off in the cold while I waited outside for the damn Piccadilly line. Then I got on - getting nearly squashed by this HUGE woman in due process - but the problem didn't start till after Gloucester Road. I was thinking "Shall I get off at South Ken and switch to District Line then switch to Jubilee, or get off at Green Park, walk for five minutes Underground to change the line to Jubilee?" when the train screeched to a halt.

In a tunnel.

The Piccadilly line happens to be old. It's 101 years old, to be precise. So, the tunnels are quite small. Actually, I was standing in front of the door so I could see outside, and... the TUNNEL WALL WAS ABOUT SIX INCHES AWAY. I felt quite claustrophobic.

The train started moving. Then it screeched to a halt again, causing everybody to crash into each other. Much cursing ensued. Then it started moving again. Then it screeched to a halt again.

...

Then the announcement came on, saying that due to technical problems the train would be moving at a really slow pace.

It did. Then it stopped.

See, when it stops, it's kind of different from moving at a slow pace. Elementary calculus, everybody! Just because the limit is zero doesn't mean it's ZERO!

Ahem. Anyway, Then it screeched to a halt again. And then it sat there, making odd noises, like it was about to fall apart (mind you, it's the new Tube, not the old rusty one that was in service till about 10 years ago).

And sat there.

And sat there.

And sat there.

Honestly, I probably could have walked to South Ken and back in the time that the stupid train sat there. IT SAT IN THE TUNNEL FOR THIRTY MINUTES. I thought about killing myself, listened to Nine Inch Nails out of sheer frustration. People started to panic. I got angry.

The trouble didn't end there. OH NO. It got even worse.

I decided to get off at Green Park. I switched to Jubilee alright, after walking a faintingly long walk between Piccadilly platform and Jubilee platform. I got to the Jubilee platform after walking for about five minutes (no joke).

AND IT SAID on the stupid time display that the Jubilee Line to Willesden Green was coming in a minute.

"Cool," I thought, and listened to Placebo's "Bitter End".

I finished the track. And listened to "Every You and Every Me". And "English Summer Rain".

So basically, one minute turned into approximately ten. And it still said on the damn display throughout the entire time, "WILLESDEN GREEN 1 MINUTE".

So, I hate the Tube. I also hate District Line and Piccadilly Line, District because it has so many termini (I'm not joking, it has Edgeware Road, Upminster, Ealing Broadway, Richmond, Wimbledon, Kensington... they SHOULD make another line), Piccadilly because there's always bunch of tourists there with bunch of luggage who always run over my feet with their 13 ton suitcases. I happen to like Jubilee Line, because it's usually working AND the stations look cool.

But Tube sucks. Hands down.

I was stupid enough to leave my phone on "sound" mode last night. Needless to say, it just so happens that I get 3 drunk texts ON THE NIGHT where I'm actually trying to sleep.

My text tone is some retarded, loud, metallic noise that just grates on your nerves. So here's drunk text numero uno:

"idn kno what im doing!!"

That one was from Jeremy and none other. I thought he was using T9?

Number Two:

"I doot tghnj im drrrtnkk"

That was from Jeremy again. I can't translate that into coherent English. Anyone up for the challenge?

Number Three:

"I .m unbelievely fucked!"

From Billy.

... Is Unbelievely even IN predictive text mode?

So I woke up three times last night, thought that the phone was on my desk, turned out it was getting charged, nearly tripped over my shoe that was sitting quietly in the place where it's supposed to be, read the texts, then went back to sleep.

By the way, I love yogurt.

Someone REALLY needs to make one of those. In a very close future.

I'm kind of a person who likes rules, and things that work under the rules. For example, machines. You press a button, it does one thing. If you press eject, it doesn't play, or stop, or rewind. It just ejects the tape.

Not so with relationships. You say one thing to ten different people, and you get ten different reactions. And there are certain rules, specific to each person; however, the rules are written NOWHERE, and you can't see the exact equation. Sure, you might see the gist of it, but most likely you're missing that one last z variable that would be crucial to getting the correct answer (and that was such an INTJ analogy right there).

As an INTJ, a lot of people think that my problem is not approaching people. Oh no. It's not that. Then I would have very few friends, and I actually do have a handful. Actually, I don't know what's wrong with me, apart from the fact that... I can't read male species. Actually, I suck at reading people period. When they're specimen (as in, I'm examining them objectively from a scientific approach), bring it on! But when it comes to the stance as "friends", or something along that line, I suck, hands down.

And why am I feeding you this long piece of Hamlet-esque angsty soliloquy, while you'd rather be reading about more antics by Dr. Payne? Ahh, hold it right there. I'm getting to it.

Hypothetical situation: A post-teen male (but not too post... I'm talking about "I just got out of teen" here) to an 18-year old female:

"No, I do want to meet you! You're clever and pretty and we obviously click." (okay, not verbatim, but up t "we obviously click" is.)

Let me give you the stats. This male has not been around too many females (think family here), and while his classmates were chasing around girls he was chasing... oh right, a new version of Playstation (or something along that line). He isn't Mr. Slick, obviously.

The keyword that is bothering the said female is "pretty". Remember all those romantic coding crap that rather belongs in some pseudo-supermarket-fiction version of the mix of Danielle Steel and the Da Vinci Code? Yeah, well, pretty means "we're going to be really good friends". Gorgeous means "you're so beautiful you're kinda far away". Cute means "girl next door, yeah I'm interested". Beautiful means "I hope I can get you, you look damn good."

Additionally, he does not initiate conversation with the said female online. Now, answer the following questions:

1. What is he thinking?
a. I'm really socially immature and I don't know those romance-Da Vinci codes. I really mean what I say.
b. I'm interested in a relationship, but it doesn't have to be you.
c. I'm just humouring you.
d. I'm just looking for a female friend.

See, if it was an equation, I'd solve it in about thirty seconds and give you a definite answer, but considering that relationships aren't just "plug and chug", I don't even know where to start. Because, quite frankly, I don't really care to like a person who definitely won't like me back. That would waste my energy, my brain cells (or what few amount I have left after cramming all those polymerase junk), my money (which is super super limited), and gnomes (and to get this joke, you need to look up "Physics isn't real, it's all gnomes" group on Facebook).

"How about you just enjoy being single?" You might say to the said female. Alas, that is kind of like asking Britney Spears to stop crashing her cars and flashing the entire world on a daily basis.

No, I'm not asking for Gackt-ish relationships where it's "I'll protect you and love you and be there for you forever and ever" (although any male who would like to do that for me is welcome to do so), because that's really unrealistic. And thinking that saying that kind of thing takes hell of a courage for the male (either that or the male is an extreme romantic) and I am definitely a closeted romantic who can write about that stuff, think about that stuff but when it actually comes to acting it out is more screwed than Ivory Merchant's bank account, the likelihood of that happening is about the same as me taking permanent residence in Versailles. But if you are such a male who would like to make such a gracious offer to me, considering that I'm practically blind when it comes to reading signs like that and there is no Braille for this, you pretty much need to shout it out at me .

That reminds me... why the hell is Gackt still single? Because he is not Vincent Valentine and he will get old, and then he'd die... alone. Why isn't he interested in females? And why does he keep kissing males? Is he gay? Is he an alien? (I'm guessing that this is REALLY close to hitting the mark.) And if he's not interested why is he writing all those sticky honey-syrupy songs about holding hands and love? Is he waiting for Miss. Right (and if you are, you are going to be waiting for a LONG time... it doesn't matter if you're celebrity or not).

So... yes. That would be my current evaluation of my life. And I don't think I'll get much chance starting next year, because I really need to graduate with Distinction and to do that... I'd be sitting in my room cramming stuff into my head and I will definitely not be going out on a hunt, because I'd be too tired and too busy. You can't really get to know someone when all you're thinking is "sigmoidal colon and DNA helicase and tetracyclin A". And currently, I have little time left in my day. Next year? Unless it is programmed into my weekly cycle, there will be no time for me to cram something new. And then after med school it'll be my graduate degree, then my residency, then my fellowship, and by the time I'm finished I'll be 34 and Cuddy Version 2.0 (although I am NOT going to get a fertility treatment like she is... hell no).

That reminds me: my lecture notes for Membranes was 24 pages, 8 point font. Now that's nuts.

働いている方がずっと楽である。

働き始めて解ったのだが働いていると言うことは次のレベルに行くために走っていると言う事がないのである。もちろん出世するという事はあるが何かに追っかけられながら人を追い抜く為に走っているという緊張感がないのである。

だんだん、無限回廊をぐるぐる回っているような気がしてきている。終わらないのである。ある一つの事が終わっていても次の三つの事が来ているので達成感に浸っている暇がない。全部投げ出したくなるのだがそうすると自分に負けることになるのでそうは行かない。そうして無限回廊を永遠に回っている事になるのである。

That looks like some kind of MI6 code. It's not. It's a personality type, meaning that I am an INTJ and a 5w6 on Enneagram.

Bottom line? I'm an isolated intellectual who doesn't like to be in the spotlight aaaand.... surprise surprise, romantic relationships are my Achilles Heel.

I am also type 3 (meaning that I'm domineering) and type 1 (seeking improvement).

Simply put: I'm under one hell of a stress.

Today's lecture was just traumatizing. The morning went well enough, except for the fact that the syllabus had a HUGE mistake - instead of two lectures, as said on the syllabus, we had a full day today. That just dampened my mood, but it wasn't enough to traumatize me. Oh no.

Trouble started after lunch.

Right as I sat down I felt my phone vibrate. It was a call from someone that I knew would never call, so I ran out of the classroom. (He was perfectly fine, by the way). After going to the toilet and checking that my contacts were still in place and seeing some gross stuff in the cubicles, I walked back to the laboratory. And the first thing I heard was:

"Eat your own feces."

I nearly blurted out "WHAT THE FUCK" really loud. Thankfully, I kept my mouth shut, and literally scuttled back to my seat.

Trouble was just brewing. I could smell its acrid, pungent odor from where I sat. It had green fume too.

Well, see, I was recording the lecture for those who left the lecture after lunch for whatever reason. Since my mp3 player had a counter of how long the recording was up to that point, I casually glanced at the screen as he stopped talking about eating your own feces (actually it was about animals who ate their own feces, but still) and moved onto the next topic.

The counter read: 32:14.

Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen. He had talked about the yucky, gross shit (literally) for thirty minutes.

Trouble didn't end there. After excessively BORING lectures about the endocrine, he did the usual thing.

What is the usual thing? Let me explain.

Recently, we had noticed a pattern in this lecturer's style of lecture. Barring the fact that he repeats himself so many times, lapses into periods of silence, and generally needs to take a speech class, he always rounds off his lecture for the day (which ends at FIVE... we begin at TEN in the morning) by dedicating the last thirty minutes to some ridiculous topic that is definitely related to sex.

Well, I'm not Britney Spears, but oops, he did it again.

Today's porn-in-question was viagra and erectile penises. I don't even know how we got there. We just did. When I actually woke up from daydreaming about bashing his head with my molecular cellular biology book then slowly eviscerating him with my teaspoon, he was already talking about how viagra enhanced penile erection. And pheromones. And some sex study conducted in a nunnery.

Now these are kind of crap that I'd call "TOO MUCH INFORMATION".

Honestly, his lectures are such a torture that they almost equal the pain caused by listening to Britney Spears all day long.

And that's saying a lot.

今年の十月から有閑倶楽部がドラマ化されたらしい。たまたまYOUTUBEを見ていたら出てきたので見てみた。

はっきり言ってかなりのハズレである。まず悠理が主人公じゃない事で醍醐味が半減してしまっている。悠理がめちゃくちゃだから可笑しいんだろうが!　魅録を主人公にしてどうする。

次に不服なのは役者である。まず弥勒自身が魅録らしくない。なんというか軟弱なのである。ふにゃふにゃした魅録なんて炭酸の抜けたコーラのようなものである。髪の毛からして服装まで全部魅録らしくない。

野梨子は線が太すぎる。大体白鹿家のお嬢様が人を引っ叩くか。人を叩いて良いのは悠里だけである。

美童のご自慢の美貌はどこへいったのかぜひ知りたい。彼の長髪は彼にとってもプライドだったはずである。おまけに日本人は金髪にするべきではない。ただでさえ猿に見えやすいのに髪を金髪に染めたら猿そのものである。美童は日本人の血が四分の一しか入ってないので白人の顔をしているはずである。確か１９８６年版の有閑倶楽部では白人がやっていたはずだし。

清四郎の顔は後期の有閑倶楽部の顔である。あとあのもごもご喋るのはどうにかして欲しい。育ちのよいお坊ちゃんだからゆっくり、丁寧にはっきり喋るはずである。おまけに清四郎は１８１cmの身長なんだぞ!

悠理はなんか違う。多分顔が違うのだろう。あともっと乱暴なはずだ。

可憐はどうもガキっぽい...

と言うわけでかなりのがっかりである。

みかんを食べながらぼんやり休憩時間にFACEBOOKをチェックしていたらこの写真にこんなコメントが...

「野村萬斎さんに似てますね。」

やめろおおおー!

ちなみに野村萬斎に似ていると言われるのは初めてではない。大学に入る前の夏、母に言われたのである。

「あんたって野村萬斎に似てるわ。」


「狂言師の?」

「そう。ただ陰陽師をやってる時だけだけどね。」

ほめ言葉なのか貶されたのかさっぱりわからない。

もともと安部清明は狐の子でその役として野村萬斎が選ばれたのだから母は狐に似ていなければいけないはずである。そのことを言ったら...

「だって私狐に似てるってずっと言われてきたもん。それにしてもあんた本当に野村萬斎に似てるね。ちょっとねめあげてごらん。」

「こう？」

「よく似てるわ。妹だって言ってもおかしくない。」

野村萬斎の妹になるのはごめんである。

「ねめあげて『私はそれほど狐に似ておりますかな』って言ってごらん」

「私はそれほど狐に似ておりますかな。」

「ほんと、ほんとよく似てる!」

母は面白がっていたが私にとっては災難である。

Everytime I listen to Linkin Park, it reminds me of the US and the hell I went through throughout my high school.

Why? Let me explain to you.

America is a country of stress. People (well, high-strung, successful people) are stressed out. They are sleep-deprived, nutrition-deprived, love-deprived and time-deprived, always scuttling off to work and whatnot. Because in the US, the more you work, the more you get. So the people with money (I mean middle-class here) work their tails off, trying to be the winner. Because being the loser means that you're the ultimate failure.

While there are many pictures of "failure", there is only one picture of "success", AKA grand car, grand house, grand job, and a fat bank account. To achieve that, kids work their tails off doing extra-curricular, sacrificing their sleep, their weekends, and basically what entails as "good adolescence". They go to a reputable school, where they are filled with all sorts of nonsense that they'll never use in their lives. Drilled, grilled and instilled with a working discipline of a good Puritan and a soldier, the high school teenagers go off to college, where they work (sort of), live lives of small decadance, because... let's face it, unless one does advanced degrees, the childhood, the carefree time, is over. Here comes responsibility, paying the bills and being the adult.

Their lives, hell, our lives, aren't much fun.

And that's why Linkin Park reminds me of the "Land of the Free and the Brave". Because in reality, it might not be what Bush advertises it to be. People are afraid not to become that single picture of success... afraid to fall out of the line, to let go. Literally squished into this cookie cutter shape despite personality, people chafe against the picture of success, but are powerless to rebel.

Yeah, it sucks.

Oh, and have I also mentioned that the only guys who liked me that way always gave me Linkin Park CD? Hmm. I guess the next admirer is going to cross my path when they release a new CD. Now that's a hint, Chester, go make another CD.

Due to my flu that has confined me to bed for the time apart from lectures, I am actually updating my blog while sneezing and cursing my throat for being so irritated. Anyway.

During reading week (AKA next week... horray), I swear I'll update the Japanese version of my blog. Swear to God, Mum!

Okay, now that's said, I would like to move onto... my college life.

Since none of my readers (except my mother) has been here, let me explain where I live. First, this quote from Wikipedia...

"Next to Stainer Street, off Tooley Street is Weston Street. Both are among the gloomiest places in London. They are simply tunnels. In the early nineteenth century, before the station was built, John Keats lived in Weston Street, at that time called Dean Street. It was here that he wrote the poem "On First Looking into Chapman's Homer".

Yes, I live on Weston Street. No, I do not live in the tunnel (by the way, the picture of the tunnel is actually Weston Street... ). I live on the extension of the tunnel, but it's still damn gloomy.

Go down Weston Street, you get to a junction. Go right toward Bermondsey, which connects to Elephant and Castle (don't ask me where they got that name) where it leads to... THE TRASHIEST PLACE OF LONDON. Well, maybe not. But I haven't seen much worse.

Go straight, you get into Weston tunnel. Go through that to get to Tooley Street, where London Dungeon (which costs me 20 quid... god knows when I'll ever visit that place), Hay's Galleria (yey Boots), London Bridge Station's one of numerous exits, The London Bridge (which is just a bridge), St. Olaf's House, who apparently was some hotshot during the medieval ages and whatnot, e.t.c.

Go left, you get to... another London Bridge station entrance, Starbucks (which closes at 7:30, therefore no longer qualifies as a true Starbucks), a newsagent, some sandwich place where I've never been in, bunch of hospital buildings (I told you I live in a damn hospital), McDonalds (in the Student Union of Guy's Campus, AKA Guy's... basically where medical training takes place for the first few years), Boland House where Guy's bar (see left), Blackwell's (where they sell ridiculously expensive books that can be bought for half price in Amazon), Student Union. It also leads you to the actual Guy's Campus via colonnade, Hodgkin's Building (which is probably as old as the elevator in my dorm... see picture below the orange creepy one, it's the ivy-covered one in the back), New Hunt's House (the orange creepy picture to the right) and Henriette Raphael Building (which look new to impress the candidates who are insane enough to want to come here), and... I think that's it. Anyway, go past the main gates which look NOTHING like the main gates (it's this weird parking lot with steel gates with the Guy's logo on the top where no one can see it... oh, and throw in Thomas Guy's statue randomly standing in the centre). Go past that, you see the place where Keats lived. Unfortunately, nobody around here knows who John Keats is. Believe it or not, he even went to my school (no, not Fenwick, he's a British, he went to GKT). Go figure. (Yes, that plaque is approximately 2 minutes away from where I live.)

Go down more, you hit Borough High Street, where the famous Borough Market is. Apparently it is a world-renown food market, but unfortunately I only buy vegetables from there, so I'd have no clue. Turn left, the street also houses Ryman's stationary (thank God it's close to my dorm), ANOTHER exit from London Bridge Station (see picture to the left), Sainsbury's which is too expensive for me, and... I think that's it. Oh, and a HUGE Natwest branch, which defies logic because there's a branch two minutes away. Oh well.

Then go right, walk up, you hit London Bridge (not the station, the actual bridge, right below). Cross it, you hit Monument Station, (seen in the picture to the left), where there is another shoddy branch of Boots, Natwest, and... Tesco's!
Yes, I walk 10 minutes to buy carrots so that I can save 4p. Now shut up.

My lectures are actually at three campuses. Two days I'm at Guy's, right at London Bridge... two days I'm at Strand, another at Waterloo but I never go there anymore because I don't want to repeat Sophomore chemistry again.

The Strand Campus is the heart of KCL (which is NOT Potassium Chloride as I thought at first). It is at... Strand, which is across from the Aldwych Bend, where LSE is. Turns out I walk the same street to get to my campus as Dad did. Coincidence much? Anyway, keep walking from Strand and you literally hit Savoy, Covent Garden, the attraccion de tourista where I have no business. Turn left right away and you're onto Waterloo Bridge.

The thing is, the Strand Campus isn't actually a campus. It's more of a "what used to be bunch of buildings which Kings College London bought for the sheer lack of money and sheer need". While LSE got prettier and prettier, KCL just took turn for the worse... for example, The Norfolk Building isn't ACTUALLY a university building. It was a FREAKING HOTEL. Macadam building fares no better... actually, it's kind of hard to see that it's a university unless you know where to look. They say they'll renovate it, blah blah, but I'd probably be dead of old age by the time they start.

Of course, we have a pretty chapel to show off (since we are the only London University affiliated with the church). I never go in there, because well... I probably should have been one of the Godless Scums of the Gower Street (AKA University College London). I have no faith whatsoever. I'm an agnostic.

On the other hand, the Maughn Library (left: the entrance, right: entrance details) which used to be the Office for Public Records (or something) is palatial, and also confusing as hell. It has about 4 floors, one mezzanine, and the place is an utter mess. I still get lost in it. Outside looks pretty and about as British as it can be. But then, so does the inside door of Kings College London, which I did not know it existed until a week ago I wandered over to that direction by accident.

Waterloo... fares no better. The James Clerk Maxwell building, which still remains a mystery to me as to its location, USED TO BE A POST OFFICE. You can still see "POST OFFICE" faintly on the building.

The Franklin-Wilkins Building, which I used to call it as "Francis-Wilkins Building", is actually mustard yellow. It's literally down the street from the Waterloo Imax theatre, which I will never go to for the price. Across from the building is Stamford Street Building, which houses the Student Union and apparently a dorm, but that is yet to be checked.

Okay, so you get my campuses, and my surroundings. Here is my dorm:

Yes, it's a CONCRETE BOX.

Each floor houses a flat, which I have no information about since I've never been in there before, and a corridor. The corridor houses a kitchen (you will hear about the kitchen in a minute), three toilets, two showers, and one bath. It also houses 14 people.

The stuff in the kitchen never works. For example, the stupid microwave always manages to cook a part of meat and leave the rest of it to completely frozen state when you try to defrost it. The fridge (we have two) are missing bars. The only thing that actually works is the stupid freezer. We have two cookers; the hubs work fine, but one of the cooker's oven door just comes off, the other oven spits out black smoke whenever you use it. Fire hazard, anyone? Additionally, the radiator spits out water whenever it is turned on, and the faucets spurt out random bursts of water when you use it for too long.

The bigger shower fails to work properly as well. Basically, what happens is you take shower with lukewarm water, and just as you're getting out it gets warmer. The other shower is no better, as it is a shower STALL, constantly has a puddle the size of Noah's Flood on the floor, has molds on the ceiling that vaguely looks like human faces when you are high on caffeine and has not slept for more than four hours total for the past two nights, and what's worse, the shower head is approximately an inch away from my face (I'm 5'9") and so to get water on my head I have to lean back. The catch here is that the stall wall is approximately six inches away from me, so whenever I lean back too far I smash my head against the plastic. Ow. For bonus, because the other shower does not work the 14 of us are sharing one shower.

The toilets defeat logic. There are eight on the south side of the corridor and six on north side (my side). There are two toilets on my side and one on the other. The toilet seats on my side (don't know about the south side) slips out of where your rear end is when you sit on it, successfully landing you onto the rim of the toilet bowl where some drunk idiot had probably pissed on the night before. Screams and grossness ensues. Fun fun.

My room is relatively decent, but the duvet they provided probably will not keep a hot money warm in middle of Chicago August. It's literally an quarter of an inch thick. The bed is about as soft as tofu, generating back complaints. The curtains have cigarette burns in them, the windows have this restrictor on them so you can't open it all the way... understandable, since I'd probably kill myself in this dingy hole if the restrictors weren't on the windows. A sink, a VERY tall closet, a cabinet with three drawers, one wall cabinet, a mirror by the sink, and a shelf on top of the radiator that is slanted and therefore makes my books fall off completes the suite. Oh, and a corkboard which is painted a yucky hospital blue to match the walls.

The residence office managers are evil, end of discussion. And the security guards are basically wasting our money, since all they do is take naps and listen to music in their little cubicles. They even have "Out - back at" sign, when they're NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUT IN THE FIRST PLACE.

The laundrette harbours many hatred from the residents of our dorm. The dryer just never works... it's 20p for one session, and you have to invest 80p to get your clothes dry. 20p just warms your wet laundry. Ew.

Despite all this, I am actually enjoying my life at Kings College London.

Yey college!

Well, he's kind of dead now, but...

No, he is NOT Hugh Grant (that's what I thought at first)

He is...

JFK JUNIOR.

OMG. (that was my reaction too)

McGonagall Reincarnate - If you thought the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a figment of imagination, think again. SHE EXISTS. This bitch has an amazing tendency to start class on the dot despite the fact that half the class is still rushing among the throng of businessmen or stoned and in bed. She is also strict as hell, has WAY too much time on her hands which will be spent on hunting down students who were too tired to show up for class (hello, it's university, not kindergarden). She also has one of the primary school teacher handwriting, talks in a typical middle-class British accent, is organized to death, and will expect you to be the same. So, no late-night drinking on Tuesday nights, fellas.

Statement: I actually shouted "MUUUUUM, FIVE MORE MINUTES" this morning when my alarm played a LOUD version of KT Tunstall.

I'm pathetic. I'm ashamed of myself.

You know your first day of Senior year, your teachers lectured you about "Senioritis", a commonly mysterious phenomenon when the Seniors just start slacking off? Well, I do. And I distinctively remember one of my lecturers - I mean, teachers - saying something like "Don't drop into the pit called Senioritis - you can never get out" or some weird metaphor like that.

Well, if that was a pit, then Collegitis is a Mariana trench.

Away from parents, freedom (and relatively more money, now to think about it), I've been slacking off. Not like "I'm going to procrastinate this paper till tomorrow" slack-off, because I never get any homework (I have one coursework, three labs, and final exams in most of my classes to make the grade). The thing is, I stopped going to lectures (ahem ahem, Chem), mainly because it's a waste of time.

So what do I do? Well...

I'm usually studying some other crap (read: Advanced algebra, Statistics, Clinical Psychology, nuclear physics), or I'm sleeping. Or watching House (Episode 3 just sucked, honest). Or writing out notes for my two biology classes, which makes AP Biology look like a fairy cake. Serious. All the transcriptase and lipase and -ases are driving me nuts, and Mammalian bio is no better - who the HELL spends THREE lectures on thermal control of mammals? Argh (and tomorrow fares no better - lecture from 10 til 4:30, hour breaks in between. Shit.).

So... to my younger people (AKA Ian, yes, you)... DON'T get Senioritis. I didn't get one till post-AP exams, and then there were about two weeks before graduation. And now I'm getting Collegitis, and it's seriously taxing me...

Honestly, I have no clue.

See, every year, my former math teacher, math idiot extraordinaire (and I hope to GOD that he doesn't read this) takes about 40 kids to... where else but London. In my opinion, his obsession with this city is beyond disgust or pity - it piques curiosity. It's that bad. His room is cluttered with London stuff that I'd never even DREAM about going near to, let alone buy.

...

He stays with kids in Royal National Hotel, which is apparently in Bloomsbury, which is just about ten minutes from one of my campuses at Strand (who would have guessed that Kings College London had over 5 campuses... not me). Incidentally, the only time I was in Bloomsbury was when I accidentally took the wrong turn from Covent Garden back from school (well, I was trying to get to Picadilly, oops) and ended up right by Gower Street. Therefore, have I ever seen the hotel? Nope?

But coming to think about it, I think Finnell's little group knows more about London than I do. Sure, I can tell you if Boots or Superdrug has cheaper soap, or where you can buy the cheapest carrots (which is not Borough Market, but Tescos at Monument... who would have guessed). I can tell you how many Prets I pass by when I get to Strand Campus, or what's in the London Bridge station, but beyond my home ground, I'm clueless. I have no idea how to get to Tower Bridge, although I can explain to you about 4 different ways to get to Stamford Street in Waterloo (well... I can see it if I walk about three minutes from my residence... would that help?). If you ask me which way to Harrods, I'll probably end up leading you to Leicester Square instead. When it comes to the famous parks (AKA Hyde Park), I can't even locate them on the map. As for Stonehenge? Well, anything outside of London is a mystery for me - there's Scotland up in the north, Wales down somewhere in the southwest (and even that's dubious), Ireland is to the west. The other places are... well, they don't exist on the map for me. So there we are.

So all in all, London isn't a fun place, folks. Especially when you are dodging gruntled businessmen to get to the class on time.

Oh, and the best sandwich around: Tescos.

I currently hate everything and everybody.

First of all, my watch wristband broke. So now I have to get the damn thing fixed. I hate spending money, period.

Second, I just bout $200 worth of books - Nuclear Physics, molecular biology, Psychology. And I feel bad, although I'm going to use them a lot, because again, I hate using money for myself.

Third, this stupid postal strike is CRIPPLING ME. I HATE ROYAL MAIL!!!!! I hope they crash and get banned or something, so the stupid postal workers can get fired and go on the streets. It's a PUBLIC SERVICE, STOP STRIKING, DAMN IT. If this was States nobody would care because people'd just use FedEx or UPS, but nooo, this is the UK. So people just bear with it. In the US if the postal service was the only service available, they'd be crippled, and the entire country will fall down. ARGH. Now I won't get my books within the next week, it's doubtful my lab coat will be here on time, my bank stuff wouldn't be here for another week, and it's pissing me off.

Fourth, I've been averaging 3 hours of sleep a night, high on caffeine, and 6 to 10 hours of study per day, and this is making me CRANKY AS HELL. I've been averaging around 1000kcal a day, mostly sugar (yeah, I'm really a health nut).

Fifth, I hate my Mammalian biology professor. Can't he JUST GET TO THE POINT AND STOP GIVING OUT INDISCREET INFO, like HOW TO KILL PEOPLE WITHOUT GETTING TRACED? I KNOW THAT INJECTING K IONS WILL KILL YOU WITHOUT TRACES, I READ THAT IN HOUSE OF GOD, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! STOP REPEATING YOURSELF 30 BILLION TIMES, I KNOW THAT THE pH OF THE FUCKING BLOOD IS 7.4 WITHOUT YOU SAYING IT 13 TIMES, I'M NOT A DUMBASS. AND STOP GIVING 6 HOUR LECTURES, I HAVE LIMITS, ESPECIALLY WHEN I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN 36 HOURS, ON THREE DOSES of 200mg CAFFEINE, ATE NOTHING BUT TWIX ALL DAY! AND STOP SAYING "FINAL WORD" THEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR 10 MINUTES! AND STOP TALKING ABOUT CAMELS, I'M NOT GOING TO BE A VET, I DON'T CARE IF ALL THE CAMELS DIE IN THE WORLD! GOD.

Sixth, THE GUYS WHO COME BACK TO THE FLOOR PISS-ASS DRUNK, STOP SCREAMING. I'm EITHER SLEEPING FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 2 DAYS OR RIPPING MY HAIRS OUT DOING BIOLOGY. NEXT TIME I'LL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT, AND THEN YOU CAN SCREAM AS MUCH AS YOU WANT.

SEVENTH, STOP MAKING ME DO EVERYTHING (that's to the people over here, not you guys in the US). I'M ALREADY SWAMPED, I'M CRANKY, I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME STUDYING NUCLEAR PHYSICS AND PSYCHOLOGY ALONG WITH THE COURSEWORK, HAVING 2 JOBS. DO THE SHIT THAT YOU CAN DO YOURSELF. I AIN'T YOUR MOMMY.

Argh. I'm SO PISSED OFF.

最初の二日が終わったがもう私の頭の中でステレオタイプが出来始めている。優しい人もいるし退屈なやつもいるしものすごくいらいらさせられるやつもいる。今のところこうなっている：

勉強馬鹿　－このタイプは私の癇に障る。このタイプはとてもよく読むのだが（それはそれで良い）、教授が聞く馬鹿馬鹿しい質問に一生懸命答えるのである。まったくである。われわれはみんな２足す２は４だということはわかっているのだから得意げに答えてその後で私は頭が良いだろうと言わんばかりに見回さなくてもいいのである…みんな実はあんたが頭よく見せようとしている馬鹿だとは知っているのだから。だから今すぐ黙ってください。

スポーツ野郎　－このタイプの人たちはあなたが彼らの階級に何かしらの理由で入っていないのであなたを見下す方々です。大抵の場合、国籍、言葉の発音、部活、外見で決められることが多い。彼らはまあまあ出来るが野望も天才肌も一切無いのが普通である。

怠け者な天才　－この人たちは授業中眠るわIPODを聞くわさんざんである。酷いのになると授業に出てこようともしない。ところが試験だけはばっちり取るのである。

ニセー怠け者な天才　－このグループは夜中にみんながパーティーに行ったり、眠っている時に必死で勉強するくせに次の日になって授業に出てくると眠ったり、IPODを聞いたりリラックスしたりしている。だがさすがに３千万時間勉強しただけあって試験はらくらくといい点数を取る。

いやな君　ーこいつは頭は良い。本当に良い。だが不運なことに「みんなで仲良くしましょう」という教訓は学校で学ばなかったらしく、クラスのいやなやつナンバーワンになっている。

寡黙な東洋人　－この人は寡黙だがただひとつの理由からである－英語が話せないのである。一生懸命よく勉強するのでペーパーテストになるとすばらしい成績を取るが実技になるとバラバラになってしまう。

ぶくぶくおしゃべり箱　－この女の子たちは常にしゃべっているか笑っているかバービーの世界に住んでいるかどれかである。それはそれでよいのだがこれは大学である。ですから出来ればリネックスに脳味噌をインストールしていただいた後にまたご来店ください。

本虫馬鹿　－勉強馬鹿に良く似ていてこのたいぷは他聞ヤフーニュースで読んだ関係ない情報を教授に吐き出してクラスをトピックからそれさせ、みんなのことを混乱させるのが常である。彼らは頭が良く見えるとばかりに答えの無い質問、長い質問、関係の無い質問を教授に聞くのが大好きなのだがその間教授を含めてクラス全員を苛立たせている。怠け者な天才の反対である。

ナイスガイ　－こいつは本当に優しい。大抵平均以上か佑の外見をしていて体格もなかなかだし頭もそこそこ良くて何しろ性格がピカイチである。彼氏がほしいあなたには残念な事に彼は大抵フリーではない。

まあ、今日まで出こういう人たちにあった。優しい人もいるし、一人は私だしいつか寮の冷蔵庫で湧いているボツリヌスで殺す予定の人もいる。

まあ、これがレッスン１でした。レッスン２は近々の予定です。

So, the first two days are over, and already I see some stereotypes springing up in my head. Some of them are nice, some of them are boring, some of them are just plain damn annoying. So here it is:

The Studious Idiot - this type just annoys me. They are the ones who read diligently (which is fine), then proceed to answer retarded questions that the professors ask. I mean, seriously. We all understand that two plus two is four, you don't have to answer it proudly and look around to make sure that everybody thinks you're clever, we all know you're stupid trying to look intelligent. Now SHUT UP.

The Jock - These people look down on you because you simply aren't in their class for some reason. It's usually because of your ethnicity, your accent, your extracurricular, or simply how you look. They also are moderately intelligent; however, they have no aspiration and absolutely no spark of brilliance whatsoever.

The Lazy Genius - These people sleep through class, listen to their iPods, some of them never even show up. Then they ace the exams.

The Pseudo-Lazy Genius - This group study their butts off during the night while everybody's partying or sleeping, then turn up next day for lectures and casually fall asleep, listen to their iPods, relax, e.t.c. But owing to the 3 million hours of study, they ace the exams.

The Clever Jerk - This guy's clever. Really clever. Unfortunately, he didn't get educated in "let's share and get along" facet of school education, and he has successfully turned into the official jerk of the class.

The Silent Asian - This guy is silent, mainly for one reason: he can't speak English. He studies hard and well, and when it comes to paper exams they ace it. But when it's practicals, they're down the drain.

The Bubbly Chatterbox - These girls are CONSTANTLY talking, giggling, laughing, and living in Barbieland. That's fine, but hello, this is university. So please come back when you get a brain installed, preferrably by Linux.

The Bookworm Idiot - Very similar to the Studious idiot, these guys just spit out random facts that they probably read on Yahoo news to the professor, distracting the class from the topic and pretty much confusing everybody. They love to ask rhetorical questions, long questions, and irrelevant questions to the professors, thinking that this makes them look clever, all the while annoying everyone - including the professor - in the class. Quite the opposite of the Lazy genius.

The Nice Guy - This guy's just NICE. He looks good (above average to excellent), has a nice physique, relatively clever, and his personality's gold. Too bad he's already taken.

So far, I've met these people... some people are nice, one of them's me, some of them I'm going to kill someday with a terrible case of botulism that's probably flourishing in the kitchen fridge.

So that was Lesson 1. Lesson 2 to come very soon.

３時４０分頃、私は部屋をかたずけてメールをチェックして机の上を整理して皿を洗った後でやっと寝るところであった。ものすごく疲れていて疲労感に襲われ、体はスポンジのようだった。やっとうとうとしかけた時…

ものすごい甲高いサイレンが聞こえてきた。

私が最初に思ったのは「これは夢だろうか」という事であった。火災警報だったのだがもし最初の授業に行く前に寮が燃えてしまったとしたらこれはとんだ学年明けである。まあ、私は本当の火事だと思ったので私のフェンウィックの体育用のTシャツと薄い黄色のチェックのショーツを穿いたまま階段を駆け下りて外へ出た。そして外はものすごく寒かったのである。

火災訓練ではなかった。三大の消防車が来て怠け者の消防士が火事ではないことをチェックしている間、私たちは３０分も外に立ち尽くしていたのである。それから私たちは中に戻った。

その頃、私の目は冴えてしまって眠ることは不可能になっていた。

So around 3:40AM, I was just about to fall asleep after sorting everything out, checking e-mail, tidying the desk, doing the dishes, e.t.c. I was fatigued and exhausted, my body felt like a sponge. As soon as I dozed off...

came the high-pitched siren.

My first thought was, "IS THIS A DREAM?" It was a fire alarm, but it's rather a precipitous start to the schoolyear if my dorm catched on fire before I even went to my first class. Anyway, I thought it was a real fire, so wearing naught but my Fenwick gym t-shirt light yellow checkered shorts, I ran down the stairs and outside. It was freezing.

It wasn't a fire drill. Three firetrucks came, and we had to stay outside for thirty minutes while the lazy firemen looked around - leisurely - for fires. Then we went back inside.

And by then I was so wide awake that I couldn't go back to sleep.

I arrived in London on the 15th. The luggage was so heavy that I really thought I'd die, but apparently I wasn't the only one who overpacked stuff from the US.

Right now, I have two friends. For whatever fate, they're both males. One is Chinese who lived in the UK from age 1 to 12, then came to the US. Then he returned to England for university. He's in the same dorm as me, and lives one floor down. The name's Kevin. He's in the dentistry course. He has a very determined personality and eats a lot - generally a nice guy.

Another guy is a Japanese from Waseda Academy who came to Kings for some reason that I still can't figure out. He got into Waseda University (The Princeton of Japan), but didn't get into Keio (The Yale of Japan), so he came to London. I did hear many times that there are Waseda-type students and Keio-type students, but I didn't know it was true. He speaks relatively gof English, and true to his past in Waseda Academy, he's very interesting to talk to. He told me he wanted to study International Relations. He also had to suffer through the fate of being dragged around the world, since he moved to Chicago 8 months after he was born, then to Nepal, then to Hawaii and came back to Japan when he was 8.

I realized this while I was watching people, but maybe those who had moved around a lot in the world stick together with people with similar past. It's not on purpose, but people like Kevin and Akira and I see so many things, see so many priorities, that we don't really fit in anywhere as a nationality. For example, an ordinary Japanese may ask for help to me, but Akira never does that. I think he's used to doing things alone. As a British, Kevin doesn't speak British and lives at a much faster pace, and as a Chinese he's slightly more nervous about "give-and-take". Maybe the same thing can be said about me as well.

１５日にロンドンに着いた。荷物が重くって死ぬかと思ったがいっぱい実家から持ってきたのは私だけではなかったらしい。

いまの所、二人の友達がいる。何の因果か二人とも男である。一人は中国人でイギリスに一歳から１２歳まで住み、それからアメリカに来た。それから大学のためにイギリスに戻ったのである。私と同じ寮で一階下に住んでいる。名前はケビン。歯学部予科である。からっとした性格でいっぱい食べるいいやつである。

もう一人は何を考えたのか早稲田学院からキングスに来た日本人である。早稲田に受かっていたらしい。慶応系列は全部落ちたのでロンドンに来たそうだ。まあ、早稲田系と慶応系の生徒がいるとは何回も聞いた事があるのだが本当だとは思わなかった。結構英語も達者だし早稲田学院に行っていただけあってすごく話していて面白い。国際関係に行きたいそうだ。彼もこれまたあっちこっちに引きずり回されていて生後八ヶ月でシカゴに移り、その後ネパールに住み、その後ハワイに移って八つの時に日本に帰ってきたそうである。

見ていて思ったのだが小さい頃から世界中動いているとどうしても同じような環境のやつとくっ付くらしい。別にわざとではないのだが私とかケビンとか明は沢山の価値基準に触れ、沢山のものを見てどの国の人の型にもはまらないのかも知れない。たとえば日本人だったら人に聞こうとするだろうが明は絶対人に聞かない。自分でやるのに慣れているのである。ケビンはイギリス人としては言葉とか生きているスピードが違うし中国人にしてはなんか神経質である。私も多分そうなのだろう。

私はなぜロマンチックな夢を見ることが出来ないんだ！？

えーっと…　そういう意味じゃなくて…

まあ、説明しよう。

私は玄関ところの段々に座っていた。どうやら高校を卒業した夏らしい。短パンをはいてフェンウィック高校のTシャツを着て頭を両手で支えてボーっと外を眺めていた。私のそんな一時はすぐに破られた。銀色のセダンが目の前手違反で駐車したのである。見ていると運転席から出てきたのは…

セフィロスだった。（そう、あのFFVIIの悪役です）ハーバードの名前が入ったトレーナーを着てジーパン穿いて。髪はポニーテールになっている。

私が最初にやろうと思った事は「ぎゃー！セフィロスが玄関の前に来た！私はばらばらになって死ぬんだ！」と叫ぶことだったが私のそんなパニックを無視して車のトランクから大きいダッフルバッグを二つ取り出すではないか。

え…？

「これ運ぶの手伝ってくれるか？」

私が次に思った事は「これは彼がお隣さんの家を訪ねているに違いない」と言う事だった。もしかして彼はお隣さんの家の息子で私が会った事が無いだけかも。そういうことではなかった。彼は気軽の私の家の段々を上がり、ポケットから鍵を出し、ドアを開けた。

私が次にやりたいと思ったこと：「うわあ、何でセフィロスが家に入ってくるの？！」

「学校はどうだった？」

「…え？」

私が偉大なるセフィロスの質問に答える前に私の両親が走ってきて子供の帰りを喜ぶ親子シーンが目の前で展開された。（ついでに言っておくがその両親は私の両親であって宝条とルクレツィアではない。）聞くとセフィロスは私の兄でハーバード大学三年を終了したところだそうだ。専攻は政治でハーバード法学校に進む予定らしい。優等生でロード奨学生候補。私の考えとは違って普通の兄だった。

セフィロスが自分の部屋に荷物を置いた後で（この部屋は実際には家には無いのだが夢の中では私の部屋の隣にあった）、彼は私が本屋の図書券があると言うとボーダーズに連れて行ってくれた。その後アイスクリームを食べてくるまで帰ってくると駐車場に真っ赤な車が止まっている。

「あーあ、お隣さんの息子は気違いで夜中の二時にナイン・インチ・ネイルズを聴く様なやつなんだ…」と私は思った。そんなことを思っている間にセフィロスは車（あの銀色のセダンです）をとめて私達が家に入ると赤毛の人がテーブルに座ってクッキーを食べているのが見えた。

そう…レノがクッキーを食べているのである。

彼はジーパンを穿いていたがあのゴーグル見たいなグラサンは頭に乗っけておらず「コロンビア」と入ったTシャツを着ていた。私の二番目の兄でコロンビア大学工学部で一年生を終わらせた所らしい。

彼は私に学校はどうだったと聞き、私がプロムと卒業式を逃したと聞くとその二つのイベントは金の無駄になるだけだと保証してくれた。そして彼は次に私を「妹」と言ったのである。

要約してみると…私は彼らの妹なのであった。

WHY CAN'T I HAVE ROMANTIC DREAMS?!

Ahem. I mean...

Well, let me explain.

I was sitting on the front steps; apparently I just graduated from high school. I was in shorts and a Fenwick T-shirt, hands propping up my head, staring into the sunset. My daydreaming was jarred awake by a silver sedan that parked right in front of the house (illegally). And out came...

Sephiroth, from the driver's seat. In a Harvard sweatshirt and jeans, his hair in a ponytail.

My first course of action was to scream "ARRRRGH! SEPHIROTH IS HERE AT MY DOORSTEP! I'M GONNA DIE A GRUESOME DEATH!" but ignoring my panic, he went to the trunk and pulled out two duffel bags.

Erm...?

"Can you help me carry this in?"

My next thought was that he was visiting my neighbours. Maybe he was their son that I never had the chance to meet before. Alas, that was not the case. He casually walked up the front steps to MY house, got out the keys, and opened the door.

Next course of action in my head: "ARRRGH WHY IS SEPHIROTH GOING INTO MY HOUSE"

"How was school?"

"... huh?"

Before I was able to answer the Sephiroth Nobilis' question, my parents were running to him, hugging him, playing the loving parents. No, they were my parents, not Lucrecia and Hojo (ew). Turns out Sephiroth is my brother, just finished his junior year at Harvard, a government major and is planning to go to Harvard law school. A student, a Rhodes candidate, e.t.c. He happened to be a normal brother.

Anyway, after he stored his duffel bags into his room (which is not in the real-life floor plan, but happens to be right next to my room), he took me to Borders because I wanted to use a gift card I received. We went to Oberweis after that, we had ice cream, he drove me home, only to find out that there was a bright red car in the parking lot.

My thought: "Great. A lunatic is going to be in my neighbour's house, possibly the kind who plays Nine Inch Nails at two in the morning."

My brother parked, I got out, and we went into the house, only to see a redhead at the dining table, eating... cookies.

That's right. Reno eating cookies.

He was dressed in jeans as well, but lost his goggle-like shades, and was wearing a COLUMBIA T-shirt. Turns out he's my older brother as well, now going into his sophomore year at Columbia, in Engineering.

He asked me how school was. I told him how I missed out prom and graduation. Reno assured me that those two events were meaningless wastes of money. Then he called me "sis".

So... to summarize: I'm their baby sister.