And all was black.

I am ready to tell you about my landlord. For one, she is tiny and pregnant, very hard to yell at her.

So far we have dealt with break-ins, no hot water, no heat, lack of front door keys, etc. On Sunday the electricity went out. I had two papers due the next morning. I couldn’t really go without electricity for hours on end. We called the ‘on-call’ guy to get him to come to fix it. He is supposed to live in the building and be available for emergencies like this. Well, he was an hour and a half away and would not be able to be back for at least four hours. At this point, I left, to go to some friends’ so I could continue writing. Rob, thankfully dealt with the situation from there.

Three flats were without electricity and Rob was nominated by the other two tenants to call an emergency electrician. He did, we paid £250 to get him to fix it. While he was fixing it he also informed Rob that our building was wired dangerously, likely to cause a fire, fab-u-lous.

So now our landlord is saying she won’t pay this £250 because four hours is a legit amount of time to go without electricity. I need to mention that it was four hours we were going to have to wait until Tony showed up. A basically untrained handyman who is authorized to do nothing, mmmhmm.

So Rob is fighting the fight. I am staying out of it. I told him I would deal with booking the music for the wedding if he would do this. Which, I really need to get on. I just didn’t have time this morning because there were so many dishes to do. I really hate living without a dishwasher. First purchase, even before a bed, will be a dishwasher. When we get to America, that is. I can sleep on the floor, I hate washing dishes. Almost as much as Rob does.

Anyway, I want to move so badly it hurts. But we have 3-5 months left in London maximum, moving would just not be practical.

Okay, so that is my landlord complaint.

Aside from that, things are good. I am working my ass off in school, still. But it’s good, I am learning. More than I did when I was at Plymouth University. On the other side of the coin, I am in class right now. Obviously I am paying attention.

$#@*&!

Just because you have a PhD…

does not mean you should be a professor.

Seriously people. The fact that you can write a thesis does in no way mean that you are capable of standing in front of class for two hours and being an engaging lecturer. It does not mean that you are good at giving advice to students. It doesn’t even mean that you have good people skills.

I have one professor that I love, I wish I could take all of my classes from him. Then I have two that are good. I like them, but sometimes I make my grocery list during their classes. Then there is the last. This professor bores me to tears. I have to bring things to entertain myself. Further to this, any time we are talking about anything kind of related to America she asks my opinion. This is rubbish.

Last semester I was dead asleep and she asked me how the liberalization of the electric companies in California had affected me. For one, just because I am from California this does not mean I know everything about it. For two, who cares? So I made up some crap about something and it made her happy. Whatever.

Being a foreigner is annoying sometimes. But being a foreigner who speaks the language as their first language can come with a whole different set of annoyances. Because I speak English, they assume I always know what the hell is going on. This is not the case. Language is really only one of the barriers you deal with. Culture and societal structures (not to mention the structure of higher education) are completely different. Though I have the ability to go, “wtf?” and be understood, sometimes it takes me just as long to get an idea of the way things work.

The long and short of it: my one prof bores the crap out of me and she is way too nervous in front of a group of people to be a legitimate professor.

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