There's a French word for this...

I can say it, but I can't spell it. 'Cos it's French. And I hated French.

Anyway, the whole point this blog exists is due to the witty banter between me and an old teacher involving 'pink shorts, a t-shirt and American landmarks'. Hilarious, I know. Upon reflection, a blog wasn't a bad idea (an idea kinda confirmed through a phone call with a good friend) to put down in writing my thoughts about the whole process I am embarking on. Not all my thoughts, and probably not the good thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless.

'But what are you embarking on?' I hear my English teacher asking, since I just spent a paragraph bullshitting and not actually getting to the point. English teachers hate waffle. It's fucked me over in the past. 'Sure, you write well, but what the hell does this have to do with Shirley Valentine in the post-feminist world?' Nothing, that's what, 'cos I hate Shirley Valentine and you should too.

And yet another paragraph.

Um, yeah, so... I'm going to America. For about 9 months. To study. Law. In Houston. English teachers also hate staccato sentences. It's like reading a shopping list compiled by schizophrenic. Or so I believe. I don't know.

I wish I named this blog 'Holy Shit, I'm Blogging!' since I rag on it a lot. Well, not a lot. A bit.

I jet off to sunny Texas on the 5th of August at, like, 9? I'll check closer to the date. To be honest, I'm not as nervy as I once was. Now that the visa is sorted and I have a place to stay (first a hotel, then a room with the gracious Marcus Sprenkel) it feels like it's coming together.

Hang on, I'm turning off Paul McCartney, it's doing my head in at the moment.

The Wombats, that'll do. That reminds me, I'll have to sort out my music for the trip at some point.

So, that's cool. I see it like going to uni again. Just in a different country. There are a couple of things I am worried about:

• Money
• Getting about
• Money
• Public transport
• Money
• Who else is going?
• Money; and
• Money

Supposedly, three other people on my course are meant to be going with me. I did mention this is part of my course? 'Cos it's part of my course. However, one said they won't be coming, one wants to come but doesn't know if they can, and the third is now umming and ahhing after months of certainty. It would be nice if I had at least one familiar face, but fuck it, there are no familiar faces when you first start uni. Unless you stay in your home town. In which case, pub?

I'll finish these thoughts at another point, but for a first post it's everything I wanted to be: Waffle.