Photos and first MSN gallery

I just uploaded some pictures, but I have many more that can be found here

It took awhile to load pictures on this site, so I will continue to put the majority of them on Facebook.

And a link to my first officially published 'story' on MSN for Life & Style--Summer dresses

first Entertainment story--
How Artists Got Their Name

Motley Crue, Jack the Ripper and Brighton

Brighton Pier and the rocky beach
olives at Borough Market



Let's see. Last week happened, and for the most part, it was fairly uneventful. Well, that's not really true, I guess. This is why I should be writing on this more often, because everything sort of starts running together.

Class happened, work happened. MSN was especially cool on Thursday when I was working for Entertainment. My main assignment was to come up with interesting band names to find out the back stories behind their origin. My list of twenty or so, including bands like Talking Heads, Mates of State and Arcade Fire got slowly dwindled down by my music editor, James. But I was forewarned that he would have to check it out before I took off on any research. Not only did he want to add in some British bands that I'd never heard of (fair enough), but he humorously (wow, I just spelled humorously, 'humourously.' I think I've officially been consumed by England) and rather bitterly told me that as far as the MSN music audience goes, "if you're into music and you're looking at the MSN music section, you're not very cool." So he replaced the earlier mentioned "too-cool bands," apparently, with bands like Destiny's Child (really?!), The Killers and Jay-Z (not a band, but he actually ended up having a pretty cool back story- the intersection of the J and Z subway lines in his childhood Brooklyn neighborhood). During our brainstorming session, it dawned on me how few female groups/solo artists there are out right now who are fairly mainstream. The only one James and I could come up with was Lady Gaga, who, as catchy as her songs are, is not exactly the kind of music I would like being represented by female musicians. James made some underhanded comment as we were agreeing upon the fact that the list needed more women that "that should very well be the overarching theme of my own life." James is a funny lad. He's quite an awkward interviewer, though. Which brings me to my next set of ramblings. I didn't get very far in my band names research/writing, because I was handed the glorious gift by a friend of mine, Carla, who is interning for the video side of MSN, of getting to crash two interviews. In other words, I got to leave the office on two separate occasions, get picked up and driven, or rather, swerved madly down the narrow streets of London, to essentially sit in on interviews done by the editors. Well, I monitored the big camera that sat stationary the entire time it was filming, just to make sure it didn't do anything out of hand, like shut off. The first interview was with two members from the heavy metal band, Mastodon, done by MSN's movie editor, Ed, who was a huge fan. Ed is this skinny guy who you can just tell was a gawky adolescent, but he's really nice in sort of a nervous way. Not exactly the sort of guy you'd picture to like a band like Mastodon. The two Mastodon fellows, one a drummer and the other lead guitarist (both of whom sing as well) stroll into the room of this studio we were sitting in close to forty minutes late. Heavily tattooed and pierced and lethargic, they sit beside each other on the couch and Ed starts firing away a series of overly nerdy questions about the meanings of their songs. It lasted about twenty minutes and the three of them ended up singing a guitar riff together towards the end, which was the greatest thing ever, followed shortly by Ed meekly asking if he could get their autograph. I got to shake their hands and they asked Carla and I what we had going on the rest of the day, but it was as they were walking out the door, so I don't think they really cared how we chose to answer. Carla managed to get out that we were heading to another interview with Vince Neil from Motley Crue. They perked up at that and told us to pass on that Mastodon says hello. So, yes, the second interview I got to witness was with Vince from Motley Crue, and this interview was done by James. It was at a swanky hotel that had huge lime green tinted windows and life-sized wooden chess pieces arranged artistically in the foyer, and I think they were intended to be used as chairs. We were taken to a room in the back of the hotel and I got reminded of that scene in Almost Famous where Patrick Fugit is being led dizzily through a hotel passing by all these half-open doors with intriguing characters behind them. The room we were taken to had a wall lined completely with windows so it was very bright and all white. There was a clear table and chairs in the center and one lone booth off to the side, and for some reason, James decided it would be a good idea to set up the camera facing the booth (the darkest part of the room). Carla and I sort of shrugged and did as told. We set up really fast and Vince pranced in soon after, looking like the most stereotypical washed up rockstar possible: long scraggly hair, sunglasses, a ripped shirt missing sleeves, faded jeans with holes in the knees and a massive diamond studded watch. James's interview with Vince lasted all of about five minutes before he awkwardly wrapped it up. Vince didn't have a great sense of humor, and he didn't ever answer a question directly, so it was kind of a mess of an interview, but I mean, he was from Motley Crue. And I shook his hand. Twice. So, it was a really awesome day for me.

My roommate, Sarah, had a friend of hers stay with us in our flat for close to a week. Abbe (said friend) was just stopping through London in the midst of her solo travels across Europe. She was really quiet the first few days and mostly kept to herself, sleeping a lot. One night we were all sitting around together in the main room and she suddenly got up and announced that she was going to dance. We all kind of didn't say anything but I was like hmm? Did you say dance? And she laughed and told us that it was this thing she started upon traveling; that for the past twenty-two days she had filmed herself dancing to a song and then put it up on YouTube, sort of as a documentary of the places she'd been. At this point I'm totally sucked in and have to see some of the videos. She shows us, and I'm blown away. It was like one of those things that only happens in movies. You just don't meet people like this in real life. She was an amazing dancer and she had no hesitation upon showing us either. It was like she decided to crack herself open entirely and reveal this hidden talent to all of us, and we're all basically strangers to her at this point. She went back into one of the bedrooms and closed the door and did her twenty-third dance. The next night she rose from the couch and said that she had to go dance, and we knew the drill. But this time she went outside and placed her laptop on the sidewalk. I could hear Spanish-sounding music playing faintly through the wall dividing us. I went up to the window to watch as she danced on the stairs in front of our flat. People walking by literally slowed down to watch as she improvised to this instrumental music and she didn't stop until the end of the song. I think Abbe may be the most fearless person I have ever met. After that she started going out with us and talking a lot more. And just the other day she disappeared without any warning. I think she might be in Germany, I forget where she said her next destination was. I don't know if I'll ever see her again.

Thursday night I went and did a very touristy thing with my roommates and Carla from MSN and a couple friends of hers. We all went on a Jack the Ripper tour, which was led by an older man who had written two books on 'ol Jack, so he knew a whole lot about the subject. It took place in the part of town where the four alleged murders took place, which was cool and eery. Our guide was a good storyteller and made sure that the large group of us heard every word he was saying by repeating himself every time a car passed by or a church bell rang. The 2.5 hour tour ended at a pub formerly known as the Jack the Ripper Pub.

Friday I went to Borough Market with Gwen, which is this gigantic food market full of different stands of freshly risen bread and huge blocks of cheese and olives and meat and fruit and vegetables. We took advantage of the free samples, going back for cinnamon dusted white chocolate covered hazelnuts three times, and bought some miscellaneous items to serve as a lunch. This trip to the market was after our British Life & Culture class where we had a guest lecturer who specialized in fashion and showed us slides of the changes in clothing and style over time.

The weather started getting nice again, so Reyn, Gwen and I decided to take a day trip to Brighton on Saturday. Brighton is a seaside town an hour outside of London. We took the train, buying round trip tickets that morning. It was a great day. We walked out of the station and immediately heard seagulls, which was a sound that I never realized how much I liked. We bought coffee from the first cafe we came across, and it was real coffee, which was great since London only does the whole steamed espresso thing and walked through the bustling town on the hilly streets towards the dropoff ahead of us that we sensed was the ocean. The town itself reminded me a lot of San Francisco with all the hills and small shops and busy traffic/crowds of people. The beach was covered with rocks instead of sand which were kind of hard on the feet. The water was freezing. But it was a sunny 70-degree day and we enjoyed hanging out on the beach. We walked along Brighton Pier, which was essentially a carnival with token-paid rides and food vendors selling all your typical carnival food: doughnuts, ice cream and jellied eels, yumyum.

After the train ride back, we met up with Ricky and hung out on the back patio of our flat as it lightly rained. Gwen and I drank some ales that we bought as we were leaving Brighton, which we were given a mixture of a hard time and advice for purchasing by one of the locals. Gwen got one called Fersty Ferret, which we couldn't stop laughing at. At one point one of the flats above us noticed that we were hanging out outside and started talking to us out the window, which was soon followed by the next highest flat's tenants leaning out the window and so on. A bunch of girls made their way down and talked to us out on the patio and we almost decided to join them on their mission for the night, some kind of a 30s-esque club, but I was set on trying out a club that I had read about online called Dogstar. Ricky, Reyn, Gwen and I eventually made our way out and had a very confusing combined tube/bus ride there. Dogstar we learned was the oldest pub in south London, and it definitely appeared that way on the outside when we finally found it on a very empty Coldharbour Road. I read online that there would be live music, but this was not the case. It was yet another bad DJ playing loud, bad rap mixed with techno, but it was a really cool building with three levels that we had a lot of fun exploring. And the music was eventually fun to dance to. The second level had a room sparsely filled with people where an old black and white movie was playing on the wall and clotheslines were suspended from the ceiling with drawings hanging from them. Gwen and I drew our own pictures to add to the collection with markers and paper that were laid out on a table in the center of the room. Overall, the four of us came to the conclusion that we enjoyed ourselves at Dogstar but not enough to return. We managed to stay until it closed at four in the morning and made the long journey back home to Earl's Court. This made it the second Saturday in a row that I was awake long enough to see the sun rise.

Pirate party, etc.

Abbe, me, Gwen, Ricky and Hannah on the tube
Gwen and I on the Thames River pirate boat party


Waiting for tea to seep in the kitchen, I realized that this is the longest stretch I've gone so far without posting. And the irony of this is that I've had the most fun, the most happen and been the busiest of all this past week. Prime writing material. But I guess being busy doesn't help that out.

It's strangely quiet outside and I know why. There's a tube strike taking place for the next 48 hours, so the train that is directly outside my bedroom window is not rumbling past. That is the only nice thing about the strike. It is very inconvenient for everyone who has to commute to work, which for me and all the other interns, is quite a problem. We're forced to figure out the bus system once and for all tomorrow and Thursday.

So, I'm trying to think where I left off. Wednesday was the last blog. Well, Wednesday's class got cut thirty minutes short so that we could all travel in a big mass over to this pub called O'neills. It was great to hang out with people in the group, as well as our professor, outside of a classroom setting.

Not so fun getting up for work the following morning. It was a fun day, though, because I got to move over to the Entertainment section of MSN. I will be working for Entertainment every Thursday from now on, which I'm thrilled about. It's made up of mostly guys and this girl, Colleen, and they spend the day cracking jokes, most of which I don't understand. My assignment for the day was to read through message board posts on the Susan Boyle meltdown and compile the most interesting ones into a new story for the website. So, not a whole lot of original writing, but it was still enjoyable. And I got my first official byline on the site, which was terribly too exciting. But it was Thursday evening that was the most memorable part. All the interns got sent an email from one of our coworkers, Antony. Subject: Evening worship. And the body of the email consisted of a picture of a cathedral of some kind with pints of amber ale etched into the stained glass. A bunch of us ended up going, about half I'd say. The Entertainment crew basically wouldn't let us say no. We walked around the corner of the office building to a pub called Phoenix where at 6 p.m. it was already packed with businessmen and women in work attire hanging outside on the sidewalk/street, drinks in hand. I was one of three interns who were the last to leave with two MSN employees at 11. I don't really know how five hours went by, but I had an absolute blast. It was a gorgeous night and the sun stays out here until well past 9, so we stood outside socializing for quite a long time in a big work huddle. Everyone was so nice about buying all the interns drinks, and I had more than a fair share of white wine. I talked to Antony about this upcoming music festival that takes place every year, which a bunch of the MSN people are attending. Apparently it takes place on a hill and it has rained so much in the past that all the tents that are set up at the bottom of the hill get washed away, so you have to go at least a day before the fest starts to search out a good spot at a higher elevation. He was like, "It's a blast but you're a bloody muddy mess by the end of it." I know that feeling all too well. Basically, my conversations with everyone centered around music. I talked about Radiohead with one of the guys who works the homepage for quite some time, and James, the music editor, told me to stick by him this summer and he'd give me suggestions of where to go catch good live music.

Friday the cold, rainy weather hit again. And it hasn't left since. I had class at ten that morning, and thinking it wasn't until one, was frantically woken by my dear 'ol roomie, Reyn at 9:40. (sorry Mum & Pops, I know you don't want to hear these things!) We learned about theatre for three hours and had a really incredible guest speaker named Sarah who was filled with information about the history of theatre. She could "only choose eleven" playwrights who were pioneers to the world of theatre. It was funny when she asked us at the end if we'd gone to any shows. Chicago and Phantom of the Opera were, of course, the ones a group of Americans had seen. It was obvious that she was a bit peeved after talking our ears off about all these obscure and fabulous works that are being shown now. It made me feel guilty for not getting out and seeing any shows yet, but she told us about all these tiny theatres like The Gate in Notting Hill that I hope to make my way to soon. I spent the remainder of the afternoon at Troubadour, my favorite little coffee shop/pub, sharing a pot of chamomile lemon tea with Gwen at a table by the window and trying to stay warm from the dismal weather. She left at one point because her internet went out, but I stayed awhile longer and a waiter brought over a candle and set it at my table, lighting it. It was really nice and a bit peculiar because he didn't do that to any of the other customers or empty tables.

So, I forgot to add this in earlier. On Thursday night when I got home from the pub outing with the MSN crew, I got an email from Chris, a guy I had contacted a few days prior about getting into a sold out boat party on the Thames River for the upcoming Saturday. I thought for sure I didn't have a chance in hell, especially since I was kindly asking for three spare tickets to an event that clearly said SOLD OUT on the website. The email said that three tickets had just become available and to call him immediately, so I did, and managed to score myself, Reyn and Gwen spots on the Exit to the Thames Boat Party, which was in fact pirate themed and ALL DAY LONG on Saturday. I was literally jumping for joy after I got off the phone with the organizer. Saturday morning we all were up getting ready by 9 in the morning so that we could be at the dock no later than 11:45. Chris made this very clear on the phone as well, that we couldn't be late. We took the tube to Temple Pier and arrived early. Let me illustrate the scene: first of all, we could not have picked a colder, more gray day to go on a boat ride all day long. The three of us were standing by the pier shivering. There were a few groups of people scattered about, and we knew we were at the right place because a few of them were dressed up. Within moments, pirates began walking in our direction and we were even more assured yet that much more hesitant about going because we hadn't had the time (or mostly) the motivation to go out and buy some elaborate one-time-use pirate costume. We were all kind of laughing nervously at the entire situation as the wind whipped through the light coats we foolishly wore. Then Chris appeared in the full pirate get-up, with a clipboard and pouch of tickets. Fifteen pounds each and a quick search of our purses, we were aboard the two-story ship and there was no turning back. It was not even noon and there was already a DJ on the top deck pounding out house music. People were already cracking open Coronas and ciders and even, insanely enough, a couple vodka cocktails. It was going to be a good day. And it was! Once we got past the fact that it was a bit cold and the fact that we knew no one there and everyone else seemed to be regular boat party buddies, it was a blast. Gwen and I threw on some bandanas to get in the spirit. We danced, drank some beer, laughed a lot at the crazy people dancing and drinking more than us and had a grand old time until the boat docked at around 5. Oh, but the party was not over yet. Not nearly. The after party at a nearby pub, which was not actually that nearby, was still to come. Everyone wobbled off the boat, costumes still in tact but looking a bit rough, and trekked over to Lounge 34, a pub which did not serve any food. See, at this point, I was sort of dumbfounded by this whole not eating thing that people in England do. The boat did not serve food, which, okay, that's reasonable I guess. We packed a few granola bars and apples just in case that happened. But you'd think this drunken slew of people would want to stuff their faces after five hours of partying. Nope. The pub had no menu whatsoever. Reyn was fine with this, but Gwen and I were foaming at the mouth. Need food. So we left Reyn at the pub and got directed towards the nearest, quickest food at a tube station. We got London's version of fast food to go: pasties. Warm croissants stuffed with vegetables and meat of choice. They were delicious. I think we would have been content with anything at that point. After an hour at Lounge 34, we had had enough of the pirate scene. We headed back to the flat.

But our night did not end there. We arrived home and took a few hours to relax and figure out what to do with our buzzes. I went downstairs to the basement flat to hang out with Ricky while people showered and got ready. We all eventually decided upon a club called Cargo that we had read about a couple weeks ago. It was free to get in before 10 p.m. and had live music. Sounded great.

We have this problem, and I've always found this to be the case, even in Columbia, MO, where you start hanging out and no matter how much time you give yourselves, you NEVER leave at the time you set. All we wanted was to leave by 9:30ish to arrive at Cargo before ten. We didn't leave the flat until 10:15. So, it was another rushed exit and we took the tube to Old Street (which we had been to before and failed to find our destination, so we were all hoping this time around would be a success). We got off after annoying many people around us with the flashing of cameras on the tube, and started a mad dash to find Cargo. The area was looking just as unpromising as the last time we'd been. Deserted, no life anywhere. We made a turn at one point and it was like a switch went off. Bright lights, loud voices, I swear there was even music coming from some unknown source. It was hopping and we got excited. Faster running. It was kind of a far walk, but we found Cargo by 10:30. And every one of us - there were six of us - got in for free. And the place was packed. And the band was so great and the dance floor was huge and everyone in the place was dancing. It was the best thing in the world not to hear another shit cover band, because I swear, that's somehow all I've been seeing in London. We danced through the band and continued on when this DJ with a box on his head entered the stage. This place even had an outdoor patio out back with a foosball table (Ricky killed me) and picnic tables. It was by far the greatest London find yet. And this is still the same day as pirate party, so this was perhaps the greatest London experience yet as well. So, it ended up just being me, Gwen and Ricky as Cargo was closing (everyone else had left). And somehow we started talking to two British guys who invited us back to their flat to hang out. We decided to go. We stayed up really late talking to them at their place and I watched this insanely awful but hilarious movie called "Shark in Venice" with Ricky and one of the guys who lived there. We spent the whole time pointing at the screen and laughing hysterically at the horrible effects, plot and Stephen Baldwin's acting. I fell asleep before the end, which was close to six in the morning. About halfway through the movie it started storming really bad outside, and apparently, this is really rare in London. We all got up and watched the rain come down in sheets out the window. It was light out.

It's experiences like that that will only happen now while I'm here. And I don't even think I can accurately describe how amazing certain things are that have happened, just because they're these strange little moments that are sort of indescribable in their simplistic greatness. I'm already sensing how fast this summer is going to go by.

A trip to Paris is booked for July, as well as a trip to Barcelona at the end of June. And I get to see Jolene in two weeks which I am so excited about. She's going to stay with us a few nights before we head off to Spain. And we're spending the summer solstice at Stonehenge for this nightlong festival. There's so much coming up to look forward to, and so much that I still want to do simply in London.

tea

Work has been going well. Yesterday I put together a gallery called "10 tips to protect yourself from the sun this summer." This involved a bit of research, a lot of obvious knowledge, searching through stock photography, a few hours spent trying to fix the never-ending Windows Vista glitches with my adorably calm and collected supervisor, Monica, and a whole lot of tea, from previously mentioned Monica. This girl is the sweetest, most friendly, and I hate to reuse the word adorable again, but I really don't think I've met a person who better fits the definition. She's got this cute little bob haircut that bounces around when she moves and she's always wearing little colorful summer dresses with cardigans and matching shoes. And she's constantly laughing and chatting away at a very fast pace. She helped me with my computer for most of the morning and never once lost her temper. In fact, she somehow managed to not only keep her cool but do it with a smile on her face up until the very end when we got it figured out. Anyways, though, back to the tea. I don't know if it's this polite thing that people do here or what, but literally everyone who sits around me, whenever they get up to grab a drink (which might I add, we get complimentary hot coffees and teas as well as a massive fridge stocked full of juice and pop) they ask me if I'd like something. And they do it so eagerly that I feel like I would be completely crushing their spirits and ruining their days if I said no. So, I usually say yes. Monica gets up for drinks every hour it seems, and insists upon getting me a tea--"milk and sugar?" "yes please!" All that liquid seems to cycle through my body very quickly, which only means one thing, but I've gotten good at keeping busy and holding it in awhile. Monica was laughing at the fact that British people hold true to the stereotype that they drink tea all the time. When I got home from work last night I had this intense craving for some, so I went to Sainsbury and got a box of breakfast tea as well as a mug that I can use at work. I hope this keeps me away from buying coffee all the time.

It's nice to have today off. I have class at 4, but otherwise the day is mine. I think I might try to find a museum to wander around in for awhile.