Foster Care in Texas

Ok, I have a few things I need to get off my chest.  I have been working in foster care for the last year and a half and there are a few things all current and prospective foster parents need to know that your CPA (child placing agency) isn't going to say to your face.  But seriously- you need to know these things.

1. If you are adoption motivated and you want a baby, foster care is not for you.
I mean yes it does happen, but chances are that it won't.  Just save all your pennies and get a baby from a straight adoption agency.  Foster care isn't the place to build your perfect little dream family. The kids we get have been seriously abused and neglected and they come with a healthy set of issues, even if they are straight out of the womb. And news flash:  If you do get a baby placed with you, don't count on getting to adopt it- reunification is always CPS' number one goal.

2. If you have specific preferences about how your child should look, foster care is not for you.
Let me repeat myself:  Foster care isn't the place to build your perfect little dream family. If you want a child with brown hair and blue eyes, dimples, and a button nose, then what you NEED is a reality check. While we're at it-you don't get to say "no" to having a black child placed with you. That makes you racist, and we don't want to work with racists.  I don't care if your family is racist but you aren't. You are a fucking adult. Stop hiding behind your mommy as an excuse. You're a racist asshole, and maybe you shouldn't be raising children to begin with.

3. If you recieve a placement and you don't think its a good fit, that's totally fine. Foster care probably isn't for you.
I know what you're thinking- But maybe it just isn't a good fit?  Maybe the child placed with us breaks things and hurts the other children in my home?  Maybe the child is into everything and he flooded the bathroom by running the tub?  Maybe the child acts out sexually and it makes me uncomfotable!  You know what?  I can see why you'd have an issue with all of the above; but all of the above are going to happen. Let me repeat myself:  Foster care isn't the place to build your perfect little dream family.

4. Foster care is for you if-
-You are willing to provide a stable, nuturing, caring environment for any child who needs one, regardless of the child's age, race, or gender.
-You are willing to work with the child through the issues that they are going to have, and will be bringing with them into your home.
-You are doing this for them and not you.

AMAZON WOMAN

Ok, here's reason 5,004,502,942 why being tall sucks.

People always assume I know what's going on, or that I have some kind of mythical sense of what to do next. 

"Jessie, what is this £50 extra we have to pay?"  I don't know. I got the exact same info you did about it, at the exact same time.  There was no additional info in my email, I'm not particularly financially minded, so I can't really even understand the email any way.  Why you think getting me to explain this unexpected charge will be helpful for anyone is beyond me.  Just- call the fucking company. seriously.

"Excuse me Miss, how far is it to the next petrol station?"  Um, if I had a car/was familiar with this part of town I MIGHT be able to help you. I don't have a car though, so my knowledge of petrol stations is limited to those that happen to be on my bus route. I'm also not familiar with any part of town that you might think I should know about. I still manage to get lost in the town I grew up in, so you can be well sure that I have no clue where I am at any given point in time.

"Where are we supposed to go to check our luggage?"  I have no idea. Maybe instead of asking a total stranger who is obviously a fellow traveler, you could find someone who works at the airport and is actually able to be of some assistance. Also, take me with you, because I too need to check my bag and as I said before, I have no idea how.

I suppose height is equated with intelligence or leadership, or maybe us tall-ies are just the first people to draw the eye. Either way, PEOPLE OF EARTH- HEAR ME! I am totally clueless about most things, most of the time. So please stop asking me for help, because I'll ruin us both. Now please help me figure out where to go, because I'm lost too.

British TV shows Americans should watch

In no particular order...

1. Peep show
2. Extras
3. Miranda
4. Fresh Meat
5. Father Ted (ok this one's Irish)
6. Mrs. Browns boys (ok, this one's Irish too)
7. That Mitchell and Webb look
8. Fawlty Towers
9. Red Dwarf
10. Doctor Who

First Dates

So for all the single ladies out there... Here are some weird first date moves that have actually worked for me.  Not that I'm happily coupled up or anything, but i did land a second date.

1. Proposing.  I once told a guy I needed to get married in order to get a visa to stay in the country, and I'd be very much obliged if he'd consider the idea. I'd be happy to pay his electric bill.  He was both intrigued and nervous. He didn't marry me, but he did text me the next day. Win.

2. Showing him the 500 photos I have of my cat on my phone.  Probably not a good idea if your date hates cats. Mine happened to like them, as well as birds of prey. Luckily I had a few photos of owls on there too.  I realised mid-way through the cat slide show that this was probably weird and a turn off, but he assured me it wasn't, and my quirks were actually working for him.  Yesssssss.

3. Asking him point blank if he likes me.  I had no idea where I stood with this guy.  He seemed happy enough to sit and chat, but I wasn't sure if he wanted to bother seeing me again. So I asked, and he answered.  Luckily his answer was, "yes, do you like me?" and we made plans to go out again then there. Boom.

4.Wearing bobby pins on my bra beneath my top so the ends make it look like I'm nipping. hard.  Ok, this is not one of my prouder techniques, because it has everything to do with nipples and nothing to do with anything else; but we all remember the SATC episode where the fake nipples draw lots of attention, and I found myself a cheaper, easier to disguise version.  Long bobby pins.  I caught several pairs of eyes, not just my dates, not very subtly eyeing my goodies all night. It's amazing what drawing attention to your breasts can do- and may I add, the hard nip is a far more subtle way to go than throwing loads of cleavage in the guys (or girls) face. He may not have known what my face looks like, or even remembered my hair color, but he remembered my number and dialed it within the week.  done and dusted.

https://pin.it/3LwxJSv

Cause and Effect

In the wake of the shooting in the kindergarten in Connecticut there is widespread speculation about what could have be done to prevent it-and what we can do now to avoid these things in the future.  Its no secret that America loves guns.  As a born and raised Texan who has been to the shooting range a fair few times, I'm hesitant myself to say we should take the same anti-gun stance that so many other countries have adopted; but its just logical; if there aren't any guns, there aren't any shootings.  That said, I don't think our right to bear arms should be taken away.  I think there should be restrictions (age, mental health, gun safety tests), but I think that the majority of gun owners in the US are responsible and don't own guns with the intention to cause harm. The only reason that I bring this up, is because I think that the United States government* is shifting the focus from gun control to mental health issues.  Articles like this one: http://gawker.com/5968818/i-am-adam-lanzas-mother     are manipulating the American people to shift the blame from lack of gun control to poor resources for the mentally ill. Don't get me wrong, I agree wholeheartedly that healthcare and support for the mentally ill and their families are desperately needed; but this is something that will take years to solve. Even if a solution is found, and support services are increased,  there's still no guarantee that it will prevent a tragedy like this. If everyone has easy access to purchasing firearms, then there is still a much greater likelihood that history will continue to repeat itself.  Restricted access to who is able to buy these weapons is the only way to prevent this.  The simple truth is, people are complicated and unpredictable and even with support and treatment, the worst can still happen.  Guns are another story. Restricted access quickly and effectively ends the issue.


*  Why would they shift the focus?  I don't know, why do they do anything? Money and power most likely. I realize that its a bit of a conspiracy theory but the way i see it, there is nothing to be gained from allowing this to continue. How many more shootings need to occur before the government steps in and does something?

Say...

Its true-fiancial aid should be given to those who are already fortunate, and those who have had disadvantage, or come from single parent families, and have known struggle should just keep on struggling. I mean-they're at least used to it, so why help now?  They had enough pluck to get accepted to a University, they'll get through it if they skip a few meals to pay the bills; besides, I bet a lot of single moms have thousands of dollars stored away that they're just going to blow on shoes and handbags any way.  The only flaw in this is that the author used "your" once when he/she should have used "you're."  So I guess we know the reason why they didn't qualify for a scholarship...

Reasons why the British aren't as smart as they think they are.

1. They judge age based on height.  This phenomenon is something I have experienced first hand. I am 5'10 and have been since the tender age of 12. 99% of the the time when entering a bar or purchasing alcohol, no one bothers to ID me, however they will ID my peers who (no offence) are clearly my age or older. When questioned about this policy every single bouncer/cashier replied with "She's short."

2. They think they know everything about America.  Ok brits-or world for that matter; You may have seen every Hollywood blockbuster since 1985, You may know all about our electoral system and our foreign policy, You may have even been to LA, New York, or Vegas, but TRUST ME you've barely scratched the surface of American culture and life. To assume that you know everything there is to know about a place after popping in a DVD, googling the Bush Doctrine and spending a week and a half gambling and drinking in a dimly lit casino makes you an ignorant, pompous, ass.

3. They claim they own the English Language (and America is ruining it). First of all-English was originally a Germanic Language spoken in Germany and the British stole it, much like they took Scotland, Northern Ireland, India, and Hong Kong. Then a bunch of other Germanic influences came and changed things up, and the English language underwent a make over.  Then it underwent another makeover when the British got cozy with the Scandinavians. English is great because it evolves. It SURVIVES because it evolves. The fact that Americans (and Canadians, and New Zealanders, and Australians, and Scottish, and Irish) speak English and put their own spin on it is a good thing. If we didn't speak English, you might actually have to learn another language yourself, and just think what a hassle that would be!

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, 1927.

Placement Misadventures

For the last 3 months I have been on a placement, which is basically just an unpaid internship where I do a lot of extra work for the university, like write reflectively about myself each week, and then do it again but make the paper really long, and then do it again but make the last paper shorter and fill it with more variety in content. REAAALLLLLLYYYYY interesting stuff I assure you, but all confidential so I shan't be sharing any of it.  I forgot how self involved you have to be when completing a social work degree. Any way, I've been on a placement and along the way I have had a few misadventures which I feel might be most entertaining and share worthy, here they are, I present to you the stories of....

The Burnt Chicken Smell: Let me set the scene.  My placement is massive, its in a three story building and the only word I can think of to describe it is "sprawling." It houses all the social workers, occupational therapists, and CNA's that serve southwest and south central Edinburgh and a reablement team in addition to a big admin team and some receptionists.  It was a dreary Friday afternoon, and anyone who knows me, knows that I won't wake up early enough to make breakfast let alone pack a lunch. So 12pm rolls around I head to the grocery store to get my usual. Scotmid usually has a decent variety of sandwiches or wraps but I just wasn't feeling it that day.  I don't what possessed me, or what I was thinking, but I decided that not only was it not a health risk to cook raw chicken in a microwave, it was perfectly acceptable. So I buy some chicken breasts, head back to the office and put them in the microwave for 10 minutes, my train of thought being they'd take 20 minutes on a stove, so half that time would be sufficient in a microwave. I put the chicken in and leave because I need to do something in the office, and then I head back to check on the chicken after a few minutes. To get from my office to the second floor kitchen I have to go through a door into a foyer and then through another door and down the hall.  The instant I go through the second door I can smell my mistake. It smells like a mixture of burnt flesh and cardboard. It's disgusting. You'd think I had gotten a lamb kebab in a take away box and then set it on fire.  I got to the kitchen and wrapped the charred chicken into a few napkins and then threw them in the bin. Then I tried desperately to open the kitchen window for 5 minutes, not realising in my desperation that the window opens from the bottom, not the top. So I give up and head back to my office, hoping not to see any one and get caught.  Unfortunately its the kind of smell that really lingers on the clothes, so I dragged the scent with me into my office. 20 minutes later a coworker comes to the door and just stares into the room at me and the other student in silence. When I finally get up the courage to make eye contact, he responds with "What did you do?"  I realise I've been caught, and I can't pin it on the other student, because she's in the room.  I explain my mistake, offer my deepest apologies, and then pray the day ends soon. As I run errands throughout the 2nd half of the day I notice the smell spreading to both top and bottom floors, large offices that usually remain open have their doors to the hall shut and their windows to the rain outside open.  As I leave I note that even the reception area smells faintly of burnt chicken and the door is propped open.  I already knew that out of the two of us I was most likely considered the scatter brained one, but now I had forever dubbed myself "the girl who microwaves chicken."

Crickets: I have multiple alarms set up on my my phone. One for morning, one early evening one in case I fall asleep at home, and one that varies depending on the day. Over the weekend I had decided to go on a shopping spree on ebay. I was a very good girl and researched all of the products I was interested in and I made sure to find the best priced items. I was able to get everything by Sunday save one item; a dead sea mud soap bar that promises anti aging properties and treatment for blemishes, obviously a must buy.  It didn't have a "buy it now" price and I knew a bidding war was on the horizon.  Monday lunch time I'm happy to report, I won the bid war and pimple/wrinkle free skin shall be mine. I unfortunately did not turn off the alarm I had set to notify me that my item was ending soon and i left my phone and the alarm, on and in the office the next day from noon to 1. This is the kind of alarm that gets increasingly louder the longer you ignore it. When I got back to the office I noticed the door had been shut, which is really unusual.  Then I heard them. The loudest, angriest crickets outside of San Marcos (a town in Texas which has a notorious cricket infestation every summer/fall.) I had to apologise to everyone on the floor about my phone, and because I couldnt come up with any half decent lie; tell the truth. I was in a bid war on ebay, didnt turn off my reminder. My bad. 

So now I have assailed 2 of the 5 senses of most of my coworkers. I might have also done some damage to the other three but if I have I honestly don't want to know about it. I'm afraid I'll be remembered as the smelly, loud, American. Typical.

Lassies reply

So this past saturday I attended and participated in my first Burns night supper.  I ate haggis (tastes like stuffing mixed with ground beef) and did a speech. Traditionally there is a lads toast to the lassies, and the lassies reply.  The gist of each toast is to make fun of the other gender.  It can rhyme, but doesn't have to. I was asked to do the lassies reply, and here is what I said....

"First I’d like to thank our friend Jon for so charmingly and delicately bringing to light so many aspects of woman’s character. Not many men have the courage and ability to be so forthcoming and tactful at the same time.  So thank you Jon, not only have you made it clear the areas in which men struggle to find common ground with women, you have also shed some light on why you are over 40 and have never been married.

When Rowena asked me to provide the reply for the lassies tonight I was hesitant.  I love men.  So many men work all day, from 9-5 to provide for their families and then come home and put dinner on the table and sort out the house and take care of the kids and….oh wait-that’s women who do all that.

Well, men are great at other things.   I never like to go on a road trip without a man in the party. I hate to say it ladies-but men really are better map readers.  Only the male mind could conceive of one inch equaling a hundred miles.

Men also have gumption!  When women get depressed we go shopping, or eat chocolate, we call our mothers on the phone. But men! Men invade neighboring countries and impose their own culture and government on a foreign people.

My only real issue with men is that they age so much better than us women. it’s a well known fact girls, that men become more attractive as they age, while our beauty just fades.  Hair that used to grow on their heads starts to sprout in a variety of new and exciting places…like out of their ears and noses.  The chest hair that marks a virile man and makes women weak in the knees begins to spread and becomes back hair as well. Years of sports and hard work begin to show on their bodies as knees and shoulders begin to give out, giving them a distinguished and sexy limp or stoop.  Yes ladies, we are the lucky ones.


All joking aside, I'd rather live with men than without them, especially the ones in this room. To the Lads!"


Short, and not so sweet, but entertaining I think.

Guantanamo Bay

So a while back I said I'd do an experiment and see if crazy or bitchy worked better on men folk.  I decided to go for crazy first, and it did not work out.

Him- So where are you from?
me- Not canada.
Him- Yeah? Which state?
Me- one of the ones everyone knows.
Him- You're going to make me guess?
me- yep.
Him- Give me a hint.
me- We all love guns. I don't own a gun but my dad used to take me to a shooting range. I have great aim.
him- well, fuck I'm a bit out of my depth.
me- Yeah, probably.
Him- You're from the south?
me- yes...
him- Texas? Louisiana? Tennessee?
me- Texas. You're welcome.
Him- So you have great aim...should I be careful then? If I piss you off will you shoot me?
me- No, I wouldn't shoot you. I'd report you to Obama and he'd deploy 10,000 US troops to track you down and then we'd have you locked up in Guantanamo bay.
Him- Well I'll be sure and avoid your bad side then.

I haven't heard from him since then. So next I'll be bitchy. I'm not really sure how to go about it. I'm thinking over confident and condescending?  any way...stay tuned.

Tyra Banks

I'm feeling egotistical. I imagine this is what tyra banks feels like all the time. So this blog is a collection of things that have been dedicated to me by friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y68PtGGluaQ&feature=related

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10100313158395157&set=a.798710421047.2423214.29600152&type=3&theater

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=508993103609&set=t.29600152&type=2&theater

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.511039381117.2013791.29601983&type=1

NYE

RESOLUTIONS FOR 2012
1. Watch more cat videos on youtube.
2. Plan and then win a moon walking competition.
3. Burst into song in a random public place and get a crowd of people to join in.
4. Quote song lyrics and comedians like its my own material at least 3x a week.
5. Watch from season 1 to the very end every episode of LOST.

Scottish Men

Scottish men have so far been total dip shits.  I am now going to transpose an actual text message conversation that I had with one last night to give an example. 

Our young subjects name is going to be kept confidential, so I will call him D. Ouche.  I met D. Ouche at a friends party and he seemed nice, chatty, and generally ok. After exchanging numbers and receiving a few boring, "sup?" texts, the following conversation transpired on a boozey friday night...

D. Ouche- "What are you doing?"
Me- "Celebrating."
D.Ouche- "I thought you had a party?"
Me- "I did, we are after partying."
D. Ouche- "Oh right so where are you now"
D. Ouche- "No chat then?"
D. Ouche- "you are very quiet"
Me- "I. Im drunk. I'll talk to you later."
D. Ouche- "Really. Where are you?"
D. ouche- "Well you still there?"
D. Ouche- "So where are you?"
Me- "your momz house"
D. Ouche-"What are you talking about?"
Me- "Willis"
D. Ouche- "Yeah willis. So what then?"
D. Ouche- "what are you up to?"
Me- "I'm having tea with your mom. She's got the kettle on."
D. Ouche- "What the hell are you talking about? So you feeling good then?"
D. Ouche- "You still there?"
Me- "Your mom makes a great cuppa."
D. Ouche- "What the fuck are you goinng on about?
D. Ouche-"well"
D. Ouche-"Anything to say?"
Me- "yes. so many things. Manchester. Kernel. Blend."
D. Ouche- "Ok you have lost me? Where are you really?"
me- "Gandolf"
D. Ouche- "can you just tell me"
me- "soup town. soupton."
D. Ouche-"Are you horny?"
D. Ouche-"what"
D. Ouche-"well"
me- "ahhhhhh. dip shits. how do they find me?"
D. Ouche-"what dip shits?"
me- "you know"
D. Ouche- "no I don't know what you mean"
me- "power hour. Shower. tower. glower."
D. Ouche- "Why are you saying weird things? Are you not horny?"
Me- "nnnnnnoooooooiiiooooooooooiiooooooooooooo"
D. Ouche- "How come no then?"
Me- "you're a duck." (side note: I meant to write "dick" but got auto-corrected).
D. Ouche- "You are so quiet."
me- "You are stupid."
D. Ouche- "How am I duck? Why am I stupid?"
D. Ouche-" well are you going to tell me?"
D. Ouche- "Whatever"
me- "you're a liar and you think  i don't know what uoure alla bout."
me- "but i know."
D. Ouche- "haha ok then how am i liar?"
D. Ouche- "what are you saying?"
D. Ouche- " go on explain."
D. Ouche- "what do you know"
D. Ouche- "what"
then I get about 8 more messages of him begging to talk to me. If anything I've learned that the meaner I am to a boy the more he wants me.  I've decided that men are either attracted to crazy women or bitchy women. I'm having a hard time deciding which one i should start being. Crazy might be easier as its my natural inclination until someone pisses me off. I don't think  I'm the right kind of crazy though. I'll experiment and let everyone know what works.

Home Sweet Home

Would it be totally lame if I quoted song lyrics in this blog?  I'm pretty sure it would be lame. I'm not an ironic hipster, and I'm not an artistic poet so I can't really pull it off either way. I'll just say I've been enjoying sleeping at last lately. Their songs are a little bit heavy on similes but otherwise nice and good for the weather we've been experiencing.

I'm super excited about Christmas this year for 2 reasons. 

Reason 1:  IT MIGHT SNOW. It will be my 2nd ever white Christmas. The first was when it snowed in Corpus for the first time in a thousand years and some guy had a stroke of Genius and sold the snow on ebay for $6000 or so.  This time there will be more snow, and it will probably last more than 2 days. 

Reason 2: I WILL BE IN NORTHERN IRELAND.  My delightful friend Arlene invited me to spend Christmas with her in Bally castle, right near the Giants Causeway; which consequently is on my bucket list of places to see.  There's also a night in Belfast in the works as well as possibly meeting some other northern Irish friends. 

Giants Causeway

And now for some serious stuff.

“The foolish person seeks happiness in the distance; the wise person grows it under their feet.” -James Oppenheim

I have moved every three or four months for the past 3 years.  It started as a way to have a little adventure and excitement. I like a change of pace sometimes.  My constant travel quickly became an expensive and ultimately useless coping mechanism. If I didn't like myself, or my life, I'd just walk away and start  over. It has taken me 27 years to realize I can't run away from myself. It doesn't matter where I go.  A new place doesn't make a new me.  In the end I'm just the same girl in a new a country and its just a matter of time (usually about 3 months) before I fall into my same old patterns. Which I hate. I am only just realizing this, though it must be painfully obvious to everyone else. I am here for the next 2 years.  The last  couple of weeks have been exceptionally hard on me because I was beginning to feel the need to get away from myself. But I can't. I have commitments, I have loans!  So I suppose I am either going to have to deal with this-or get exceptionally fat as my other coping mechanism is something I like to call "escapism through cheese and carbs." So I have some work cut out for me.  I'm not going to lie-it feels a bit like hopeless mission. I've never turned down a self made challenge though, and I don't intend to start now. Damn me and my goals.

Sheer boredom

So I should be doing research for my essay but instead I'm looking up words in the urban dictionary. Being the narcisist that I am, of course I looked at my name first. Here is the definition I find most fitting of "Jessie."

	Jessie	91 up, 36 down
	Jessie is a sex goddess. Boys and Girls bow down to her feet as she passes. If she speaks to you, you will be blessed for life. She is sex on legs and a genius on two feet all in one. everyone wants a piece of Jessie, but only one man can look into her eyes and see the true sensitive, wise, selfless person she is inside. Many men just see Jessie and want to fuck her, but Jessie's man sees so much more. Jessie is Hebrew for "gift" because the holy Almighty put her on this planet not only as eye candy for the rest of the pitiful simpletons, but also to bring peace and love to the planet.   You will not believe it, but Jessie spoke to me today. Her words were like a song to my ears.     The funniest one is number 7. Its about stardust and flames. Pretty good stuff. So being a student again I've reverted right back to my old ways of procrastination and stress.  My study foods have changed though.  It used to be triscuts and cheese or microwave chicken. Now its tuc crackers and whatever spread is on sale, or tea and biscuits.  Either way I'm probably getting fatter as I type.

Letter to "the man"

Dear Royal Bank of Scotland,
I have a few suggestions for improving the customer service of your business.  I hope that you are able to take a few moments to hear some simple, cost effective, efficient solutions to a few major issues affecting both your bank employees and the customers whom you serve.

Firstly, I would just like to inform you that you either have trained monkey's, idiot savants, or robots (sans artificial intelligence) working in all of your bank branches.  I understand why proof of address and proof of ID are necessary.  I'm even willing to jump through a few hoops to provide you with a few different ways to prove who I am and where I live, but the "people" you have working for you are so terrified?  Stupid? incapable of logic and reason?  That they won't even take a VALID PASSPORT as proof of ID.  I understand that you want to make sure that those of us claiming to be students are actually students, but not having my student ID card, but still presenting you with a) a Visa valid for 2 years b)a letter from the University on Uni letterhead and c) A Loan statement from the US and Scottish Governments should be efffing proof enough.

Secondly, stop telling people that they can expect their debit cards in "3-5 buisness days."  I waited 3 weeks for mine, called your bank, had the one that had been delivered cancelled, and had one resent to a bank branch. It has now been about 2 weeks...or 10 buisness days, and still I have received no debit card.  If you had been truthful in the first place then maybe we both could have saved ourselves some time and effort, and I could have used the debit card that showed up 3 days after I cancelled it. 

Finally, please tell people to go online and register for digital banking immediately instead of having them wait for 5 weeks for a letter in the mail that is totally unnecessary because the effing code that we are waiting on is just freaking handed to us during "registration" and then we have to wait another 4 effing months for the registration code to come in the effing snail mail.  EMAIL PEOPLE.  If you're going to let bureaucracy run your life at least do it efficiently.

Please know that if there was another bank in this country that I could use, I would. I will never reccomend your services to anyone I know unless I hate them and want them to suffer needlessly for months on end without access to cash or the ability to pay their own effing rent.

sincerely,
Jessie (a very dissatisfied customer)

School, life, the works.

For those who are interested in what life is like in Scotland for the American student this will be a thrilling tell-all that is sure to shock and horrify you. Well not horrify, but you'll want to keep reading. For those of you who aren't interested, I'm very sorry you wasted these precious moments of your life, and you should navigate  away from this page immediately.

I will start with school. Student life in Edinburgh is interesting. The Master's program for social work will be difficult, there's a lot of work and self reflection that they are expecting us to do outside of class. Luckily I'm extremely self centered and probably would have done the self reflecting part any way, so that just leaves the 400 hours a week they expect me to spend in my own time thinking about social policies and ethics and research and any other social work term that exists that I don't feel like remembering (can you tell it's going well so far?)  I have been evangelized to three times. Twice by Christians and once by a Hari Krishna. The Christians invited me to a free dinner and discussion, and the other christians gave me a flyer for a free toastie. A toastie is basically a grilled cheese sandwich with other fillings. The Hari Krishna stalked me around the square (the Edinburgh version of the quad) and sang songs to me asking for money.  So the christians, though less forthcoming, win. They offered food and didn't have yellow crap smeared on their faces.  My classmates are great. Many of them very friendly, and many of them around my age. Most Masters students in Europe/UK are much younger, around 21 or 22. Many of them have the option of starting Uni at 16. My program has 67 students most my age or older, about 5 of whom are male.  I am happy to report that I have befriended 4 of the 5 boys.  I didn't even try to make it happen.  One was in my intro group and one sought me out cause he heard I was from Texas. Because there are so few of them they tend to ban together and now I'm in like flint.

My flat is in a great location. I live really near the Uni in a hip part of town, and am really near a neighborhood where there aren't any tourists. There is also a pub with a fun quiz night close by and another pub that specialises in ale.  I have found one cheap and good sandwich place and one cheap and good pizza place.  My mail usually gets delivered, though I have yet to receive my debit card which will enable me to have money and get a phone.  If anyone ever decides to move to the UK please follow this advice- If you ever want to open a bank account or get a contract phone, have 10 forms of photo ID and proof of address that is on official letterhead and signed. Also take with you a blood sample and a book, because you're going to wait in line for about 2 hours and if there is a pathway for them to not give you an account, they will take it.  The paperwork required to do anything in this country is ridiculous. They follow so blindly the rules of the bureaucratic government that all common sense is lost and they shoot themselves in the foot and get nothing done.  Example:  Picking up a parcel from the post. Should you forget your photo ID, you are fucked. It doesn't matter if you can give both your address and the return address on the package, what is in the package, what it looks like and its approximate weight.  You have to walk home, get your passport and walk back. Lots of wasted time and energy for both parties.

I went to a church service. It was very emotional and charismatic. Lots of crying, hysterical laughter, and laying hands on people.  It was basically the same as the American church though. The girl who was the head of the welcome committee was the only person to talk to me, several others gave me shy or suspicious glances. There was one pretty girl everyone was fighting over (silently of course). A few runners up as well. As always there were a couple of guys who were involved in pretty serious bromances with each other.  I'm not going back, it was all a bit much, and all what I'm trying to leave behind me.

I can't think  of anything else. if there's anything anyone wants to know facebook me and I'll get back to you.

Rant about Scotland

I never in a million years thought it would be so effing difficult to give someone my money. Every effing bank in this effing city wants 12 different proofs ID, address, and attendance, and no two banks-even if they are the same company- want the same combination of proof.  I have never in my life been treated so poorly by so many people who are supposedly trying to make money. Except maybe by Golds gym who lied and stole from me. I stood in line from 1130am to 430pm and they basically told me to go fuck myself.

I am so disgusted with this entire process that I'm seriously considering just not getting a bank here in scotland, which consequently means I will also not be getting a cell phone.  I am probably more angry and upset right now than i was throughout the entire ridiculous process of getting my passport and student ID.

I'm in a real pickle. I hate being in America but it turns out I also hate being everywhere else.

scotland and edinburgh

Well, I have arrived at my flat in edinburgh.  I have the smallest room, which is ok because it's basically the size of every room I've ever lived in.  I am taking a break from a decorating/organizing spree because I'm tired and I don't think theres much else I can do until  the daylight hours anyway.  One nice thing/kind of weird thing is the ceilings are really high. I tried to hang something from the window and I had to climb on top of my headboard and onto the window ledge because I was too short to hang it from the bed itself.  It's the first time I've ever had to climb and balance. It was weird, and refreshing. my beds also really uncomfortable. I might try and find a better mattress on gumtree (uk craigslist). It's funny how I was totally fine to sleep on a moldy futon cushion on a cement floor in Australia but in the UK, if it's not a pillowtop its not good enough.
 Well kids, since I'm technically "home" now I'll be more available on skype. Also, I think I'm getting an iphone so we can facetime chat now. 

Random travel story, while this isn't exactly south Texas, I'm still pretty much taller than every person in the country;except maybe the dutch and german tourists. The other day I had to do some online banking so I took my lap top down to the lobby (where the wifi was) and sat at a table that was so small it must be for their guests with school age children.  So I moved to the back, where some normal sized furniture was spotted. As I bent down to place my lap top on the coffee table, I hit my head so hard on the hanging lamp that the crack could be heard in the BACK room of reception. A little employee guy came running out and hand to still the lamp because the spots in my vision still hadn't cleared up. Then as I stood up to leave about 30minutes later I hit my head AGAIN.  This time, instead of rushing over with concern, he looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and disgust from behind the safety of the hotel bar while a man on a cell phone starting laughing hysterically and gesturing for me to come sit with him. I declined and didnt show my face again until breakfast.  The next day at breakfast I had the absolute pleasure of watching two asian girls in full makeup, false eyelashes and stiletto heels included share a hard boiled egg and then not finish it. They then piled onto a bus with 15 other asians and were gone for the day by 8am.

ok I'm tired. Wish me luck every body, I'm kind of nervous about this. My travels before were different, if I hated it I could leave, but I'm stuck here whether i like it or not.