My last day

Tomorrow is my last day in England. Technically, I'm flying out on Sunday, but the bus that is taking me to the airport leaves at 3 AM and my flight leaves at 8. I am definitely ready to go back to United States. Being far away from home is very exhausting.

Last night, my grandfather and I went to a lecture on the nature of space and time and I got to eat dinner with Stephen Hawking. This is because my grandfather, a very prominent mathematician, got invited to a 22 person reception which included Stephen Hawking. So, you could say that I had dinner with 21 people and one of them happened to be Stephen Hawking but really that's just a technicality. For obvious reasons, I didn't talk to him, but who cares? I Was There. The lecture was also interesting, although I definitely missed the more technical parts.

To clear up some misconceptions

It has come to my attention that people believe that I live a very sad and dreary life from what they read on my blog. Please allow me to put these worries to rest. My blog is a narrative of what I believe to be the interesting events of my day to day life. It is written not for me, but for other people. As such, I try to make it as interesting as possible. This means that the events which I describe will be negative more often than they are positive, since bad news sells newspapers. Moreover, when I am happy, the last thing on my mind is writing about it on my blog.

Another important function of my blog is as a place for self-reflection. I was recently sitting in the park outside of St. Paul's Cathedral in London (sitting in parks and listening to music is an activity that makes me very happy) and I was thinking about what makes me happy and what makes me sad. I recently told my mom that I was concentrating on experiencing only positive events. What I meant was that I feel that a lot of people are unhappy because they create unhappiness for themselves. In other words, they tell themselves that they should be unhappy because of a particular event, and so they make themselves unhappy if it occurs. For example, say you are very intent on getting into Harvard. You work very hard for four years in high school, you ace your SAT's, excel in extracurricular activities, and somehow get rejected. If you're a normal person, you become heartbroken and depressed, turn to alcohol, and spend the next month telling your troubles to the bartender, who's getting really tired of hearing about them - he told me.

My approach to the situation would be different. Sure, I would want to get into Harvard. And I would work just as hard as you would. But it wouldn't be my goal. I think it's important to set goals for yourself, if only for motivational purposes. Nevertheless, concrete goals are something which needlessly expose you to sadness.

England

People here speak English with this strange accent. I'm not sure how they understand each other.

Everything in London is amazingly expensive. This is true for two reasons. First, exchange rates suck. A pound is worth slightly less than $2, so 1:2 is a fairly good approximation. Second, everything is smaller. Orange juice is sold in one liter containers (a little more than a quart). However, one liter costs as much as two quarts in the US! Where the hell is my Big Gulp?

I've been somewhat dissatisfied with the Wall Street Journal lately because some of their journalists are, to put it bluntly, just stupid. One of my friends suggested the Financial Times, London's competing publication. To which I say: Buy American. Aside from the fact that it costs $2, the Financial Times has page numbers (1-40). It's a newspaper, not a book. Give it sections with letters (A1, B1, etc.). Second, what is the use of that huge photograph taking up a quarter of the front page? It may attract people to buy the paper but I'm looking for news, not pretty pictures. Third, they may have just had a bad day but black on black is an awful way to present information. Finally, insightful commentary is somewhat lacking. Reading "Bush's love of India will outlast him" and "Casino capitalism: Governments should not bet the economy on gambling" were almost as painful as watching Tucker Carlson, but not quite, because he's American.

This is what I have to live up to

Jesus Christ. My uncle on the front page of none other than the Wall Street Journal. My grandmother says that I, too, should be on the front page of the WSJ in the next 16 years. We'll see.

It's time to put up some pictures

All I've been writing are thoughts. So without further ado, I present, "Where is A13?" Most airports aren't this superstitious. Bonus points if you guess what airport it is.

Riding the CTA

I ride public transportation to work every day. You get all types on public transportation – busy commuters, listening to their iPods, homeless people, begging people for money, and religious homeless people, begging people for money while praising the Lord. Every once in a while, you get people who simply don’t know how to behave themselves in a public, enclosed area. The other day, it was two young black teens that alternated between beat-boxing, yelling at each other while standing three feet apart, and screaming into a cell phone. Fortunately, my train car had the antidote to the ruffian problem – the preachy black woman. For those of you who don’t have a preachy black woman to make your public transportation ride quieter and more enjoyable, I’ve put together a short guide to becoming a preachy black woman.

Step 1: the qualifications. Obviously, you need to be a middle-aged black woman. But just as important is the tone of voice that you use. It needs to be preachy – not like parents preachy, but like born-again Christian preachy.

Step 2: the first step. No matter what deluded experiences you may have had with TV anchors and radio talk show hosts, it’s not persuasive if you start a lengthy tirade over nothing. First, you must politely ask the hooligans to be quiet. If they do not acquiesce to this request, proceed to step 3.

Step 3: establish yourself in a position of authority. You’ve got multiple points of support here. First, you’re older. Comments like “I’m old enough to be your grandmother!” and “Back during the civil rights movement, people respected their elders” are recommended. Second, you’ve got history on your side. Dropping names like Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. may not get you into a conference of the Republican National Committee but it will establish a link between you and these civil rights activists. You have a right to ride on public transportation in peace and quiet.

Step 4: the final blow. Offer advice to the hooligans on what they need to do to live a good life in society’s eyes. The goal here is to keep them distracted so that they no longer make any noise. You’ve already got their attention, so throw in a useful tidbit like, “You need to go to school and get a job!” However, for maximum effect, ask everything in the form of a question. So, the previous statement would turn into “You think that school is a waste of time? You think that getting a good job is easy?” That way, you’re consistently undermining your audience while giving them useful life lessons! This step can go on indefinitely. Feel free to throw in advice on anything from giving up your seat to the elderly (“When you get older, wouldn’t you like it if someone gave up their seat for you?”) to gardening (“You think that roses just grow if you don’t water them?”) or filing taxes ("You think that all you need to do is fill out Form 1040?"). Remember, it’s up to you to set these boys straight.

The rest of 12th grade

After realizing that Edina would never give me a good partner to debate with, I moved on to another school, Highland Park, which was just starting up its policy debate program as well as being closer to home. I debated by myself, or “maverick,” at most of the tournaments that year and had no major accomplishments. I didn’t really have any expectations; I debated purely for the pleasure. There’s nothing like beating someone else in a contest of the mind.

I’m not sure why I engaged in such self destructive behavior during 12th grade. One could argue that I was dangerously close to destroying a better future. However, I had incredible self-confidence, and I was certain that nothing that I did could greatly affect my future. I could probably be blamed with doing the minimal amount of work to get into a good school, because I hate doing work that I consider trivial or useless. My grades went up. I got into my school off of the waitlist. I’m still working on my college stories. Come back in two years to hear that thrilling adventure.