Running towards something…

This time of year has become especially odd for me due to the events that happened in 2005 in London.  And while I’ve been trying to get our group together for another reunion to make the day a happy one, I wake up this morning and see that London is on Alert yet again and it just brings back fear and worry.

Since this blog is relatively new, I figured I’d cut and paste my 7-7-05 story here, unedited.  Some of the links no longer work, so I apologize for that… you’ll just have to use your imagination there.

7-7-05

We were supposed to go to the Victoria & Albert museum this morning and meet at 10am in front of it. Victoria and I made plans to wake up at 7:30, which would give us both time to shower and eat breakfast and leave here by 9am so we could make it to the museum with time to spare. Somehow, neither one of of alarms went off and I was woken up at 8:50am with Victoria saying, “Angela! We have go go!”

We forwent showers, which was icky, but whatever, and decided that we’d first check the caffeteria and see if anyone else from our group was still eating - if they were, we were going to get a quick croissant and then run up to the stop at Angel(look in the area 1 section, towards the upper right hand side on the black line). When we got to the caffeteria we saw that 5 other people from our group were there, so we figured we had a little bit of time to kill. I grabbed a yogurt and went into the computer room to see if Jeff had emailed me while Victoria stayed behind with the rest of the group.

After a quick email, everyone was walking out of the Caf and planned to meet at 9:20 in the lobby to walk to the Angel stop together. I had to run back upstairs to quick take some medication and get more £, since the museum was supposed to cost us a bit of money, and other people had to get various things out of their own rooms.

At 9:20 we hopped on the 38 bus outside our dorm and took it to a little south of Angel. We walked the rest of the way to Angel only to see that the tube was entirely closed off. Since a couple people in the group had tour guides with them, we knew which busses would get us closer to the museum. We tried hopping on a 38 bus going south, but it filled up too quickly for us to get on so we waited a few more minutes and got the next bus that was available. We were heading towards Victoria station (also on that map above, in the lower center, with a light blue, green, and yellow line going through it). We had called our teacher to tell her that we would be late since we had to take the bus and she understood because she was having bus issues of her own.

On the bus, about 5-10 minutes into the ride, someone’s cell rings and it’s the teacher again saying to just go straight to Chelsea (uhm… Pimlico stop on the light blue line), which is our school, instead of going to the museum. Our group had pretty much decided that instead of taking another bus from the Victoria station we would just walk to school from Victoria station, since the teacher had now told us to take our time because everyone else was running late.

The entire time we’re on the bus we see Fire, Police, and Ambulances with sirens on full blast going in the opposite direction. I mention to the girl next to me that it was sort of freaking me out. She asked, “freaking you out, or making you worried?” I said, “a little bit of both.”

So, at Victoria station, we get off the bus and it’s like Times Square, at Christmas. Hordes of people just standing around waiting for busses and no one really knowing what the hell is going on at this point, just that their morning commute, and ours, has been disrupted for some reason. We make our way past the chaos and come to a news stand where someone has an old radio on and this is when we find out for sure that there have indeed been explosions on the underground.

We’re still pretty oblivious at this point, because everyone was so calm and not panicking and just trying to get from point A to point B, as were we. Hell, on the way to school there was a Post Office and 3 of us went in there to get postcard stamps because our teacher told us to take our time, so we were.

At school, we’re the first to arrive - which is surprising to us because our teacher was on a bus and should have gotten there well before us. We check out the key and go up to our classroom and sit around for a bit… Maybe 15 minutes go by when our teacher called us again and said she’s been re-routed back to the dorms (she’s staying in the same place as us) and we should all stay together at school. At this point, 7 of us are together. 3 are MIA - 2 from the same dorms we just came from, and 1 who lives with her husband outside the dorms but was making her own way to school.

We wait around another little bit more when the teacher calls a 3rd time and says to find our contact at Chelsea (school) and see what he recommends we do. As we start to walk outside the classroom, a Chelsea employee comes up to our room with a bulletin that says we are all to stay put if we can, we’re welcome to leave, but it’s not advised. If need be, accomodations will be made on campus for us to spend the night there. *begin minor freak out* There has been a room set up downstairs that has a television for us to get the latest news and information.

As we’re leaving the room, 2 of the MIA people show up and we give them the update - at this point they didn’t know why the busses or trains weren’t working, but they ended up walking the entire way from our dorm to the school - probably a good 3 mile walk or so. We got downstairs and started watching the news and everyone started to call their families to let them know they were safe. The cell services kept going in and out, so it took me a good 15 minutes to get through to Jeff - and since I knew he had the contact information for everyone: my mom, dad, and the internet-folk, I knew he would be my one phone call. While we’re all calling, the last person from our group showed up and we met with our contact at Chelsea who suggested we stay there, as he had heard from our teacher who was now in lock-down at the dorms: no one was allowed in or out.

And then some stuff is a blur… we ate lunch.. we watched some of the news.. we checked our email and were able to call internationally for free from the administrative offices… we heard from our school back in Chicago that they were in contact with the Embassy and until they said it was a bad idea for us to still be here, we were going to stay… At 3pm we met with the admin at Chelsea and had our teacher on the line with us and she said the dorms were now open again, but the public transportation was still sketchy. No bother to us - we decided to just get the heck out of Chelsea and get back to the dorms via our own two (or 18 in this case) feet! Considering the walk took us a majority of the way along the Thames River, and through the Houses of Parliment and Big Ben and such, it wasn’t really a walk without a view. Making the best of a shitty situation I suppose.

When we finally made it back to the dorms at 4:45 or so, our teacher was so happy to see us that she hugged each of us. We felt horrible that we had each other to lean on throughout the whole thing, but she was here all by herself the entire time, worried like mad about the rest of us.

I want to thank you guys for the words of concern… you have NO idea how much they mean to me.. this is some scary shit because Kings Cross is one of the stations we generally switch trains at ALL the freaking time, and yesterday when we went to visit Gensler, we got off at Moorgate. Not to mention the fact that Victoria and I just happened to oversleep… it’s just insane to think about what could have been.

And I don’t know what all the reports are saying elsewhere, but the BBC kept saying 2 deaths, 100+ injuries, but Jeff told me that CNN is reporting 30 something dead? I don’t know if I want to know anymore details than that. ugh.

posted by Angela at 1:40 PM

(I didn’t realize until later that my camera had the wrong date set!)

The group going back to the dorm…

I’m off the market - well, the Internet dating market anyhow.  All my subscriptions (the whole two of them) expired and therefore I can’t check email, read profiles, and otherwise wink, nudge, or whatever cutesy little term Dr. Phil or Dr. Neil Clark Warren have come up with this week. 

In lieu of Internet dating, I contemplated taking a Latin dancing class at the Old Town School of Folk Music, but then I remembered I needed to pay rent so that pretty much killed that plan.   I mentioned to a girlfriend (who has a boyfriend) about the dance class and she said her boyfriend suggested taking golf lessons to meet a man - the theory here is you learn golf, then you play golf and men just swoon over your form while hitting balls.

Personally, I’m hoping there’s a single-man stork out there.   I want his purpose to be different than the baby storks, so here’s what I’m thinking:

1. First, said stork will deliver a menu, sort of like Room Service at a fancy hotel where you tell them if you want a Cinnamon Bun or an Omelet for breakfast.  Of course, no food items listed here, but a few of the superficial preferences, if you will, could be checked off - Height, Hair Color, Body Type, and of course, Length & Girth.
2. Since this stork isn’t delivering a newborn who is generally free and clear of issues, the stork may also ask a few small, but important compatibility questions - Will I accept an ex-felon?  Do I want a man who thinks women should have bodies like Kate Moss?  A potential suitor has given up his addiction to Meth, but is now hooked on Crack - is that OK with me?  (If you think I answered Yes to any of those, I demand an apology this instant!)
3. The stork will then go check to see what sort of men are in the pool of single-hood and see who will be a good match for me.   He’ll throw said man in a pair of boxer-briefs (if said man has a nice tushie, which, if he’s coming from the stork and my stork knows me, he will have a nice tushie!), and tuck him into that little blanket thing and fly off to my apartment.
4. I’ll have a feeling that tonight is the night and instead of turning on the air, I’ll open the windows in my apartment.  Just as I suspected, the stork will show up at my window with a handsome, single man who is caring, respectful, and responsible.  The single man will jump out of the blanket and give me the sign that it’s ok for me to run up to him and jump in his arms, ala Rachel McAdams in The Notebook. He will be a most excellent kisser, and from what I can tell, the Stork has done well with my… ahem, requests.

Since my chances of a single-man stork are quite unlikely, I’ll just bask in my single-hood for a while and enjoy my friends, enjoy (and CLEAN) my apartment,  and enjoy the proximity of the lake and spend more time there. 

Oh, and if you’re wondering how I had a beautiful evening with a man at the lake last week, and this week I’m proclaiming my single-hood… my brief explanation for that is my encounter at the lake was my email love affair, (not love-love.. just, lovely) and it was exactly that - an affair.  An informed affair (he’s one of those polyamorous sort-of-people so everyone was in the know), but it was never meant to be anything more than some great conversation and lovely kissing.

I met a man at the lake and sat with him on the concrete steps leading to the sea wall.

We shared a bottle of wine and talked like we knew each other for years.

He taught me how to feel like a woman.

And for the first time, I felt like I was kissing a man.

Thank you for a lovely evening, J. It will be a lovely memory, forever in my heart.

A word of warning to those who don’t want to know certain tidbits about me… this entry talks loosely of sex, so… don’t read any further if you’re going to be all squeamish and eww about it.
There is a very good reason you should never, ever date someone in your own neighborhood.  I figured that living in a neighborhood where 80% of the men like other men would leave me with no problem following this rule, but, I was wrong.

Today I was coming home from work and I didn’t realize it until the last minute that I was on a bus that wasn’t going to turn left, it was ending just before I wanted it to.  I wanted the bus to turn left so that I could hit up the drug store and get some kitty litter… Since the bus didn’t turn, I opted instead to just go to the corner store that is overpriced, but oh-so-convenient. 

So, I walk in, turn down the asile for kitty litter and there he is, right smack in front of me. I have no escape and it’s too late for me to pretend I don’t see him.  The guy in front of me is my former one-night-stand.

Most of my friends have heard the story, so I’ll just give a cliff-notes version of it: It was last November, the night before Thanksgiving, and I was feeling very, very down about the holiday.  (Thanksgiving previously had been a very family-oriented holiday with the ex, and this was the first year I wasn’t already in New England by then.)  On top of it all, my rebound relationship had ended by then, so I was really alone and really feeling lonely.  My girlfriend had signed me up for match.com a week prior, to help get me out of my funk, and one of the first guys I started talking to was funny and we had passed some great emails back and forth before finally talking on the phone.

During the conversation we’re discussing bad dates, how idiotic Dr. Phil is, and he mentions where he lives - which is a whopping 2 blocks away from me. Somehow after talking on the phone for 2 hours, I invite him over for a drink (I had 3 bottles of wine in my fridge as I was planning on keeping one for myself and bringing the other two to a friend’s place the next day.)  When he showed up at my door I wasn’t too surprised by his looks, but I was losing my nerve, and I think he was a little weirded out as well, so while we chatted on the sofa, we went through each bottle of wine very, very quickly. 

And then *it* happened.  The funniest part of the whole evening is that while we’re in the throws of whatever I said to him, “You do realize there will not be a second date, right?”  Classy.

Anyhow, he leaves in the morning, wakes me a little to tell me he’ll call me later, which he doesn’t and I don’t particularly mind.  I do, however, get an email from him on the following Monday saying he misplaced my number or whatever, and he’d like to hang out again.  Not really willing to show my face to him after that night, I  politely decline.

So back to today… he’s right there.  Right in front of my damn kitty litter.  He does a little double-take and says Hello and I reply back.  I’m literally about to leave it at that when he asks how I am and starts to make small talk.  I yammer about something not quite coherant about being a temp or whatever and slink away uninjured.  It occurs to me that I should have called him by his first name so I could at least prove I’m not a complete asshole and that I do in fact KNOW what it is (though, to get his last name I’d have to dig through some email archives, I admit).

It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen him - we are occasionally on the same bus - but if he’s noticed me he hasn’t said anything and I sure as shit haven’t pointed him out either.  It was the first time I’ve been face to face with him in daylight, while sober.

So I want this to be a lesson to all of you - don’t let awkward run-ins like this happen to you: Date outside your ‘hood.  And please, for the love of all that is holy - don’t have one night stands.  They will haunt you when you least expect them to.

Well, the good news is I don’t have to wonder every Friday if I’m going to be asked back to my temp job on Monday.  The bad news is, I know exactly when this position will be ending and I’ve got a month to find a real job.

I’m taking next Tuesday off, as I’ve already got 2 appointments set up - one more promising than the other (or one more that I really want than the other I should say).   Let’s hope that next week marks the beginning of my road to stability?

The first lesson comes from something I learned while walking to and from the bus today about self-esteem.  The secret to self esteem is this: Walk like you’re wearing Manolos, and as if you’re a size 10.

Secondly, I’ve scanned 3 pages from It’s Not How Good You Are, It’s How Good You Want To Be. I love, love, LOVE this book. It is an excellent source of inspiration, especially for the creative-types.

Anyhow, enjoy 6 pages, and go buy the book!

Happiness can be found in many forms.  Today, in no particular order, I made myself happier with the following:

$15 Steve Madden Shoes that fit PERFECTLY.

Imagining my legs look as good in this blurry photograph as they do in person.

Finding a copy of “It’s Not How Good You Are, It’s How Good You Want To Be” at Urban Outfitters, of all places.

Spending time staring out at the water.

Getting my tattoo touched up, finally, so it doesn’t look like the photo above anymore.

Walking through Wicker Park and stopping at the fountain for a moment.

Walking through Myopic Books and just browsing.

Coming home and having each of my kitties give me nuzzles.

In other news, since I have no health insurance, and little money (I allow a small splurge, especially when I see shoes for $14 bucks that can retail for $75!), I’m looking into places to meditate.  It’s been suggested before by therapists and other friends have raved about the benefits of it… so, there.  I’m going to try meditation.

This is just one of the many things making me sad today:

Yes folks, I have cancelled Maui, 2007.  With the amount of debt collectors calling me lately, it was the only sane thing to do. 

This feeling is worse than what I imagine going all the way out there and not completing the full 26.2 miles would be.

I’m having an e-mail love affair.

I’ll back up though and first say that I made a statement last night to Andi that I’ve got a new 3-date rule when it comes to guys.  She asked, “Why 3 dates?” And I said that after 3 dates I usually have a general sense if there’s a connection (hell, I usually have a sense after 1, but I’ve been wrong on many occasion that the feelings were reciprocal), and after the 3rd date usually people open up enough to tell things that are either endearing, or enough to scare one another off.  I’m basing this theory on the Greek, because it was after the 3rd date I knew his personality and mine were just not going to mesh. at. all.

So, therefore, my e-mail love affair is going completely against the grain, but I’m going to attempt to be strong, hold my ground, and take it at face value for what it is - a nice exchange of words between two people.  A very nice exchange of words, and I demand you get your mind out of the gutter right now because this conversation is no where near there!

So this topic has left me chatting with my friends today about our definitions of “Happily Ever After”, and if it really does exist or not.  And if it does exist, how does it exist?  Sunshine and roses all the time?  Is it more of a understanding between two people? 

I have to admit, I don’t have too many relationships to base where I got the idea that happily ever after exists in the first place - even my mother tells me I live in a bit of a fantasy world when it comes to men, but certainly it’s out there somewhere? 

Here it is: