Pret A Manger Lesson

I keep reading about Pret A Manger being a great place to get an affordable meal on the go in London. Fresh, natural, healthy sandwiches and salads and stuff? Yes please. It's basically a classier Quik Trip.

But seriously, how in the hell are you supposed to say that? Pret Ay Main-ger? Pret Ah Mahn-ger?

I finally looked it up and it's Pret Ah Mahn-zhay. I would have never figured that out until I said it wrong to a local and looked like an idiot. Thank you, Internet!

This lady really loves Pret A Manger.

Map-A-Plan

I like maps. I'm pretty good at navigating, but I have to have studied a map to be able to visualize it when I'm getting around.

I've been looking for a good map of the sights in London, and I just found a treasure trove.

MapAPlan.com has several illustrated maps that are really helpful. For instance, I had no idea how close the Tate Modern and the Barbican are. I mean, I could walk between them. Which means I might consider making my trip to the Tate before I go see Hamlet at the Barbican. I might not have considered that.

The travel guide I bought is separated into different areas, and the full pull-out map doesn't really highlight all the sights. And the tube map is separate and even smaller. This site has a map of the tube lines with the sights overlaid. Very handy.

These are only really helpful for planning each day's itinerary. I'm not going to print them out and carry them around or anything, but this should make it easier to visualize everything in context.

INTJ

So, I just randomly decided to take one of those Myers-Briggs personality tests. I know I took one years ago, but I couldn't remember what type I was, I wanted to know where I would fall on this list I found on Facebook: What Each Myers-Briggs Type Does At A Party.

It turns out, I'm an INTJ, and I would be taking scheduled hydration breaks in an attempt to reduce the impact of the inevitable morning-after hangover.

That's totally inaccurate, but there were a few things on the personality analysis that seemed about right.

"Independent, goal-oriented, and resolute, you tend to have very clear notions about how the abstract ideas that you nurture in your head should be turned into reality. Once you have determined what needs to be done you throw yourself at the problem with an unyielding decisiveness that thinks little of other people's skepticism and reservations. Being extremely independent and strong-willed, you tend to simply ignore it when people protest that your plan is "impossible." Living in a world of ideas and strategic planning as you do, others rarely have the prerequisites, intelligence, or competence to offer solid correctives to your plans anyway. They rarely plan ahead and optimize as extensively as you do, so it is natural that they won't understand the full magnitude and importance of your schemes until you actually carry them out and convince the world otherwise."

I mean, look at all the planning and strategizing I'm already doing for this trip. I've been planning out each day. I checked out several websites and downloaded several apps to do it, and determined which ones were superior. I've been studying the tube maps and figuring out how I'm going to get around. And I've already discussed all the researching and shopping I've been doing. I was feeling crazy, but now I can just say, "Hey, that's just how I am."

Just kidding. But it does give me a little boost, I have to say.

Except for the part where I'm also clueless in romance, arrogant, judgmental and overly analytical. But I already knew all of that.

I mentioned to my oldest friend, who also happens to be my boss, that I had gotten my passport. He then asked me whether I had everything booked. I know I've told him I had before, but he must have either not believed me or he wasn't listening. He said, "Wow, I'm impressed."

My personality type is supposed to be super self-confident. In some ways, I am, but I definitely don't come off that way. So, pretty much everyone in my life is surprised by this whole thing. And that makes me just that much more determined to have an awesome time, because I'm "extremely independent and strong-willed," apparently.

Anyway, what else? Oh, I've started on Wellbutrin. My doctor said to wean off the Citalopram for a week and start the Bupropion after a few days off meds, but since I have "unyielding decisiveness" and a natural distrust of authority, I decided to decrease the Citalopram and start the Bupropion at the same time, until I run out of Citalopram.

I'm already feeling better. I hung out with a couple of good friends this weekend and I was my old funny, quick-witted self. I haven't been that woman in a while, so that felt great.

I've also been to talk to a therapist a couple of times, and we're working on a plan to get me out of my funk. It includes trying to get more sleep and spending less time in bed. And working out even if I don't really feel like it.

And tomorrow, I'm going to Oklahoma City for a SCORE physical. I'll be meeting with a dietician and everything. I'm planning on starting the great transformation after that. In five months, hopefully I'll be more fit and more confident and ready to really cut loose in London.

I'll get back to you on that.

Obsessing

I'm officially obsessed with planning this trip. And I'm obsessed with buying things for the trip, it seems, which could be trouble.

I've bought another handbag, shoes, a rain jacket, perfume, clothes-- all with the trip in mind. And I've got my eye on a good pair sneakers. Like I don't already have sneakers. It's out of control.

In other news, I got my passport. So, that lady in the county clerk's office can shove it. My picture wasn't too brown and my birth certificate was apparently sufficiently long. That was a relief.

Pain In The Ass

I was woefully unprepared for what a pain in the ass getting my passport was going to be.

First, it turned out I had an unofficial birth certificate, which was just dumb on my part. Then I was "half-smiling" and it "changed the shape of my face" in my photo. I got my official birth certificate and then found out today that it needs to be the long-form certificate, that includes my parents' birth information. And the background of my photo was possibly "too brown." It looked off-white to me, but who knows.

I submitted it, anyway. I'll just get my long-form birth certificate and have it ready when the rejection letter comes.

I'm just glad I didn't put off doing all this until the last minute.

I've been relatively productive today. After the frustrating passport office experience, I went to Barnes & Noble for some retail therapy. I bought Lonely Planet's Pocket London travel guide.

It's perfectly purse-sized. Pocket-sized, not so much, but it'll go in the purse. It has walking tours and recommendations and maps based on each neighborhood, which I like. And I like the pull-out map, even though I wish it wasn't just of the city center. I'm realizing now that my hotel isn't even on any of the maps. But that's okay. I can find my way there from the edge of the map.

It does, however, have a walking tour of Hampstead Heath, which ends with lunch at The Stag. I'm already planning to do that, actually, but I like that it was in the book. It makes me feel like I'm already in the know.

And it has information about what time of day is best to see the top sights in every neighborhood, which is something I hadn't even thought of, but I think that will be very useful.

Today, I'm planning to take my dog for a walk, because it's beautiful outside. Also, because I'm ridiculously out of shape and way too fat. If I could lose like 60 pounds before I go to London, that would be fantastic.

I'll get right on that. (Yeah, right.)

Rough Weeks

It's been a rough few weeks.

I might as well talk about this, because it's part of the whole journey.

Last year, a few days after I bought my ticket to see Hamlet, I called my mom and told her about it. I had been hesitant to even mention it.

I took a trip with a friend to Phoenix in college and I never told her about it until after I had already graduated and moved out. She was pissed! More pissed than she even let me know. But she sure as hell told everybody else about it, as I found out later.

The thing is, she was very protective. All through high school, I think mostly because she had already raised three kids before I even came along, I was very much sheltered. And when I went anywhere or did anything remotely dangerous, it kept her up at night, worrying.

Which is why I didn't tell her I was going to Phoenix until I had already survived it.

She also didn't hear about the trips to Dallas or the trip to San Antonio until later. I nearly got my car taken away after I took my niece and nephew to a movie in Tulsa, and that was just over an hour away. When I said I wanted to move to Tulsa, she said, "People get shot just walking down the street there!"

So, I could only imagine what she was going to say to the idea of me going to London alone.

But she shocked me. She said, "That sounds like it would be fun." She did ask me if I planned to get someone else to go with me. I said I'd like to, but I didn't know if I could talk anyone into it. Maybe I would ask my sister. I said I would go either way, if I could. But I softened the blow and reminded her I probably couldn't afford to do it, anyway, and I could always sell back my theater ticket, if it came to that.

Anyway, she was positive about it, and didn't try to scare me out of it. She might have at some point down the line. But I'll never know, because just a few hours later, she had a heart attack.

And before you think it, no, I don't think she had a heart attack, just thinking about me going to London.

The next time I saw her was that night in the hospital. She was sitting up and talking. She was joking about fixing me up with the obviously gay phlebotomist. She was asking for sweet tea. It seemed like she'd be going home in a couple days and she'd be fine.

But we got a call that night that she'd gone into cardiac arrest and had to be revived. She was intubated and out of it after that, and she died two days later.

That was April 13, 2014.

So, it's been a rough few weeks.

It's been a rough year, really. I finally, just a couple months ago, broke down and talked to a doctor about depression. I was, in fact, diagnosed with major depression, and I've been on a prescription for long enough now that it's starting to work. And I'm going for my first counseling session soon.

I think planning this trip is helping me come out of it. It gives me something to look forward to. And it gives me a reason to want to better myself. But mostly, I like to think that Mom would have wanted me to do it, even if she'd also be relieved that she's not alive to worry herself to death while I did it.

Maybe that's wishful thinking, but the idea emboldens me, either way. Which, frankly, is really needed, at this point.

Paying My Way

You'll figure this out as you read through this blog: I'm very neurotic. Every time I sit down to write a new post, all I can focus on is all the concerns I have about this trip. For something that's going to be so much fun, it is already stressing me the fuck out.

(Also, every time I sit down to write a new post, I get distracted by watching videos of drag queens on YouTube. For hours. It's my favorite thing. I should put "Find A Drag Show" on my list of things to do in London.)

Back to trip-planning, though: one thing that keeps coming to mind is the guilt over spending so much money. And the worry that I'll just run out of money while I'm over there and spend the last few days just sitting in my hotel. And the fear that something big will happen and I'll end up in dire straits, because I've spent myself into a corner.

I made a cheeky comment on Facebook, asking if it would be inappropriate to start a GoFundMe page to pay for the trip. The consensus was that people start them for much dumber things, so why not? I'm keeping that option open.

In the meantime, I talked to my dad on the phone and he, out of the blue - though I'm sure it was prompted by that Facebook post - asked me how much the trip was going to cost. I told him I had come to a conservative estimate of $3,000, altogether. He then offered to send me $1,000. 

Even though I know they say not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I turned it down. I told him to hang on to that for a birthday or something, if he really wants to give it to me.

I could use it now, sure. I could put it straight on my credit card and have the balance for my plane ticket and hotel paid down by half. That would actually be the smartest thing, now that I'm thinking about it. It would mean I'm paying interest on $1,000 less. Damn, I'm dumb.

But I just don't like the thought of it. He's just bought a new house and moved from Oklahoma to Kentucky. And his house needs a lot of improvements. That's what he should be spending his money on, not my vacation. Plus, he's living on Social Security and savings, pretty much, now, since I think the retirement is all but spent.

Anyway, I have a real independent streak. I don't like accepting help, if I can help it. Unfortunately, my income is not enough to enable me to be wholly independent.

In other news, I just discovered that VisitLondon.com has a YouTube channel. So, I'm going to watch all of the London travel videos I can find, now.

Bye, Felicia! (Sorry--too many drag queen videos.)