My new, new, new Blog
and I've moved my writing over here: Vodka and Chaka Khan
Q: What's better than getting your last pay cheque?
When I arrive in London I'll be staying with my sister and her fiancé, but this little arrangement won't last forever and I'll have to find my own place. Just a second ago, I went onto Gumtree.com, just to check out some places and get an idea of monthly rental prices, and this is the first one I clicked on:
Last weekend I celebrated the gorgeous weather by spending Saturday and Sunday at the beach. Saturday was spent at Wreck. I always have a hard time focusing on my reading material when I’m there. Perhaps this has something to do with the penises? Or the boobies?! Nonetheless, I couldn’t make it through one page of Madam Bovary the entire 4 hours I was there.
I know this makes me sound like a huge spazz, but I’m planning on packing my scale. And, before you get all “Bryanna, that’s f*cked!” on me, let me try to explain.
When I first started thinking about the idea of moving to London, I was extremely unhappy. My return from my travels in Asia back in February of 2008 was quickly followed by 2 months of depression. I wouldn’t say it was severe, but it was one of the lowest times in my life. I could hardly get through a morning, day, or night without crying. I was very good at hiding it. Bathroom breaks at work turned into crying breaks and, at night, I mastered the silent sob. I felt completely lost, disconnected, and, to put it plainly, sad.