Emo kids run amok! (And why you should grow your own garden.)

This article amused me:

Emo kids march in protest

And this article inspired me:

Why you should bother

I can't wait until the day I have a little plot of land to call my own. I'm totally gardening.

Winds of ch-ch-ch-changes

It was one of those days. The fourth rainy day in a row. Hadn't been sleeping well all week. Had nothing but tedious tasks (and a lot of them) to get through in the afternoon. I was going to need chocolate to get through the day. I sheepishly slunk up to the canteen counter to buy a Kitkat, feeling slightly ashamed at my weakness and hoping to beat a hasty retreat afterwards. The surly canteen worker at the till gave me a baleful glare when I inquired as to the price. 'It's 35 pence, love, YOU know that, you buy them ALL THE TIME' he bellowed, so that everyone in the busy canteen could have heard. I stared at him blankly. It had honestly been at least six months since I had bought one, and I'd never made it a regular habit. I started to defend myself, to insist he must have mistaken me for somebody else, but then I realised that it would only draw more attention to myself. I studied his face for a sign of deadpan humour, which the English are enviably skilled at. There was none. I wondered if it were instead a comment on my robust figure, and then berated myself for reverting to adolescent self-consciousness. I paid him, took my change, and left the canteen feeling vaguely relieved that in two months' time I will never see that man again.

Yes, we are potentially nearing the end of our adventure on these shores, and like the bohemians that we are, we have no idea where we will be living in a few months' time. Come September we hope to stash our suitcases somewhere and roam a bit, as we'll be kicked out of the flat when the lease ends. But longer-term, no decisions have been made. I am truly sad to leave, but it has always been a temporary arrangement. I've just gotten a little more attached than I had planned. (Resulting self-pity and denial of forthcoming large decisions is part of the reason for no blogging of late.)
Whither shall we go?

Quick recap of the last few months: Mom visited at the end of March, and we went to Paris and Rome. (I had that Cranes song in my head the whole time as a result - kinda cool that when I listened to it in high school those cities were still only hazy impressions.) Then Jeff and I went to Barcelona to see some friends, and met up with still more friends there, making it the most social five days us misanthropes have had in years. Then Natasha and Jonn visited and much merriment ensued, including one night where we shut down three different bars in the same night. (Sounds more racy than it was - after all, this is Oxford.) Somewhere in there I turned thirtysomething. When I am able to face the 867,800,000,000,000,000 photos I took while on holiday, I'll bang a few up here. I think I may have gotten a couple of really good ones.
Guess who forgot to take off the audio guide for the photo?

Starbucks guilt

Have I mentioned that a Starbucks opened up across the street from the flat? This was initially a source of great excitement - though it's 7 pm closing renders it largely useless to me except on weekends. I popped in yesterday, and discovered that they have installed a 'Community Board'. I'm all for multinational chains investing in local neigbourhoods, but this one made me distinctly uncomfortable. Apparently Starbucks has donated 50 books to a local primary school. On the board were many photographs of children eating clearly-branded Starbucks products (hopefully not their industrial-strength coffee). And all around the board were hand-made thank-you cards from the children, addressed to 'Dear Starbucks'. Many of the children had tried to draw the Starbucks logo in green crayon.
As a North American I already feel a twinge of embarrassment when going into a Starbucks, knowing that I am proving myself to be a hopeless cliche. Now I feel guilty that not only has Starbucks gained a foothold in Summertown against the wishes of some residents, it is also impressing its consumerist yuppie land-of-excess faux-granola lifestyle upon very young British schoolchildren. I wonder if any of their parents would be horrified.
It's not as though companies haven't shamelessly marked to children before, and it's not as though there aren't loads of affluent faux-granola yuppies here, but still, I can't help but feel a bit dirty. A bit of innocence lost, or summat.
Anyway, I'll still be going for my chai lattes at weekends. Can't deny what I really am ...