Tough. Like chewing on an old boot.

I have no idea why I title these blogs the way I do, but I'm not explaining them. That's what my little creative world is like.

Sunny day number 2 today, which is lovely. Amazing how much I rely on the sun, coming from America. There, we can have bright and sunny days in the middle of dead winter. Here, it's more like gray cloud cover every day, and then once the sun comes out, the British try and tan (read: turn a curious shade of pink). I now understand what a treat it is to see sun and feel it on my freckly face- it helps me pour myself out of bed and put my clothes on (pants first, then shoes) to go outside and explore.

I've been feeling less adventurous lately, which isn't like me. I alternate between wanting to ride on each bus route to the end to see where it'll take me, to feeling a bit overwhelmed and frustrated witn my new environment. I feel like the skin that I'm in right now takes a bit of getting used to. It's the "new" Myshka that has been waiting to come out for a long time, which is a powerful feeling, but she's not fully realised yet. I never thought I'd say this, but I love having a job. And part of me is a little nervous and lost without one. I know, I know, people who might read this (there are probably all of 3 of you) would think "what?! don't complain! I hate my job! I wish I wasn't at work today!". So, this is not to make anyone envious, angry or dismissive- this is exactly how I feel and I can't apologize for it.

I like challenging myself. I like working under stress and deadlines. I like when my brain is fried at the end of a work day and the only think that can help is a glass of wine and bad TV. I like to feel like I gave it my all and tomorrow is another day to start fresh and see where the adventure goes. The mister and I are the same, in that respect. And I'm lucky to have a husband who understands what I'm going through and is patient for me to come back to my old self.

See, the "usual" Myshka is: a klutz, laughs at her own jokes, likes to dance to disco, loves to dress in strange outfits where the colors tend to clash, and is pretty much all tomboyish angles and elbows (could be a reason for the klutziness). The Myshka now is a bit subdued. Sort of like an emotional flu, and I need a good shot.

Am I whining? No. Actually, to vent a bit to a strange and anonymous audience is quite theraputic. And I'm not exactly saying anything new here. People go through this all the time in different countries, cultures and languages. It's nice to know that deep down we all feel a version of the same thing.

Now, to be superficial for a brief moment: what I CAN'T get over? I am increasingly shocked about the prices of beauty services here. No, seriously. I know America is all about convenience, so I'm sorry I'm comparing, but I never thought that in order to get a manicure I'll have to potentially sell a small body part. Here's what I mean:

regular manicure: US: $10 UK: £15 (the equivalent of $30 now)
brazilian (strip-you-bare) waxing: US: $75 UK: £50 and up ($100)
haircut: US: $100 UK: £80 ($160)

Now granted, all of these things help women look and feel good, but pssst, all of you who are charging these insane prices for things, I have a secret to tell you:

--a manicure is when a woman sits across from you and spends a minute slapping the equivalent of house paint onto your nails and then tells you to dry them under a lamp. It's not brain surgery, and it's not like the woman is grinding the paint in her own workshop the night before.

--a brazilian waxer is someone who puts hot wax onto areas that only your spouse sees, and rips out the hair by the root. The price would be worth it if she put you under hyponsis first so you could erase the white-lighted pain of the procedure.

--and yes, there are people making a fortune at being a celebrity hairstylist, but I have to say, once you get the hang of it, and you've graduated from using the rounded-end arts and crafts scissors, it's not that hard. So many friends of mine have been in bands over the years, and I managed to get quite a following with the cuts that I did. I should've started asking for cash payments instead of beer and snacks.

Yes, I understand it's all in the art of the procedure, and you do want someone that excels at their craft, and not some woman in a back alley who learned how to wax from practising on her pets. This is just my point of view as a new Brit, and honestly, if I had the money, I would immediately set up a nail salon that gave out £5 manicures. Screw it, actually, it can be all under one roof- you can get your nails done while you get waxed and get a haircut. It's like being in a Formula One race and pulling over for a pit stop. Except you happen to be naked from the waist down.

Until then, I'll be practising on the mister (no, not the waxing bit). He actually doesn't mind, as long as I don't use pink nail varnish.