This is starting to become a theme, but I was at my organ teacher’s house and we (him, the lady from the choir who is the widow of the late minister, and I) were in the kitchen, and mostly talking about Scottish things. They were both saying I should get a kilt, but I really don’t have a clan affiliation. Yes, my family name is loosely linked to a clan which is not really an active clan, but the last member of the family who would have been Scottish, if there even was one, would have been so many generations ago that I can’t say I’ve ever felt myself to have more than trivial Scottish roots. English family history – absolutely, German, definitely, and also a small amount from some European ethnicities that can grow melanin. Also, wearing a kilt might give some people the idea that I am willing to wear something other than trousers, which would be misleading and only cause me more grief later as they start imagining that I might do things which I would not do, against all sense, and I’ve got to either suffer through wild imaginings in which I magically morph into a different person, or set them straight as vaguely as possible. Aside: when some people say things like “the boys will all go chasing after you”, they are trying to pay me a compliment, but they are also disconnected from my personal reality, which is generally quite obvious to most people under the age of 40. Usually when boys, or “the lads” go chasing after someone who looks like me, it’s to beat them to a bloody pulp (or worse) for the crime of being themselves out in public.

Because I am easily irritated and have the internet, I looked up a few key family names. I looked up the main family name from my mother’s side of the family, which is the one accused of being slightly Scottish, and a family-name history website tells me that it came out of Yorkshire. Then I looked up the principal family name from my biological father’s side, and it turned out to have also originated in Yorkshire. Huh. So I guess I have lots of Yorkshire roots. So there.


I got an email today from DHL saying that there is a package coming for me from the British Embassy. That will be my supporting documents from the passport application. It’ll be here tomorrow, and I am so stressed out. It is about three weeks earlier than I thought it would be and I’m so worried that it’ll be a rejection and I’ll have lost the application money and have to apply for a visa. Not that there’s anything wrong with visas, but I wanted to activate my dual-citizenship powers. Rraagh. I haven’t received a notice saying I need to go for an interview, and apparently all first-time applications have to interview, so I wonder if that means it’s denied. Aaaaaugh. I’m dying.

Edit: My friend says I sound like I need a drink. Truth.


Edit2: I completely forgot to actually hit Update, and I slept past my alarm, so missed my organ lesson (I am the worst student ever and nearly shed a tear because I can have it later and I will never again have a teacher who is this tolerant of my horribleness) and now I’m sitting here anxiously waiting for a package. Apparently it should be here in the next couple of hours. AUGH.

Apparently the transcript I initially provided for my application was inadequate, so I’ve sent them a pdf of my official transcript this time. Since it was to be uploaded, I had thought my unofficial one was sufficient, but apparently not. That’s not the point.

Today I feel as though I may have made a very bad call, and I hope that I have a chance to do damage control. It has nothing to do with my exchange, and everything to do with, well, culture, let’s say. Longish story short, I wonder whether I might now end up in mild danger in my own neighborhood. Those who know me well will wonder how this is possible, those who know me very well will have a good idea why this might be. I am not sure how to handle it. I will almost certainly have a chance to do something about it in the near future, but honestly, it’s a bit embarrassing. I manage to be dominant in a lot of social situations, but I have slipped, partially out of a desire to be seen a certain way, and because if I was not seen in a certain way, I may be in some danger. Worse yet, many would say I brought it upon myself. However, someone once liked to tell me repeatedly to just be myself (though alas, not in this context) – that is always what I have done, even if I meet resistance. This will not change.

That said, walking my dog in my own neighborhood is becoming increasingly unpleasant. I might have to drive elsewhere for walks, and I’ll be pretty happy to be away. It’s a scary dose of reality, though, I know there’s no way to avoid a certain level of unpleasantness in my life, and I had always thought it would be later. I guess the future is now.