Funny Things Chicago Style

1) Lincoln Park. Walking to an early morning appointment, a college girl runs by me in an ultra short, skin tight American Apparel looking mini skirt and a sheer white tank. Massive heals in hand, bare feet on the sidewalk. Maybe she figured if she ran past everyone, people would notice her less? Dodged into her apartment. Oh, college morning afters Chicago style. It must have been a cold walk of shame.

2) The next few stories are funny... but that sad, I'm uncomfortable, kind of humor.

Woman walks towards her car parked by the bus stop and tells her friend "God, I had so much whisky tonight." She progresses to enter the vehicle and turn on her car. Her friend sits in passenger seat and they drive off... good luck to them. Hope they got home safe.

3) Late night ride home on the bus. (Something unfamiliar after a few months of living in the woods). Bus isn't packed, but is relatively full. A bunch of young guys are sitting near the front. They've obviously been drinking but don't look like too much trouble. One announces that he's had fifteen shots. A third of a fifth, or something like that. The bus drives on for a while and makes the usual stops in Uptown where odd things tend to happen, not because the people getting on are bad or anything but there's a high concentration of mentally ill and homeless people around those blocks and the bus ride reflects this.

The young guys make space for a middle aged woman wearing three coats (it's not that cold).

"Would you like to sit down mam? Let me make some space for you"

"Thank you. Bless you"

"No bless you. Praise Jesus Christ..."

This led to ten minutes of banter where the youngens teased the woman. She didn't seem upset because she really thought they were praying with her. The feeling on the bus was tense. Everyone knew the guys were messing with the woman but no one seemed to be getting hurt so... she got off the bus without much more of an uproar than more phony Jesus talk. The guys were putting on an act and everyone else on the bus was a reluctant audience.

That's when the attention shifted from the woman to a man with the worst skin condition on his legs I've ever seen. Not that I'm an expert, but it was scary looking. He had a trash bag with him full of old beat up magazines and books. He took one out, some kind of fashion magazine and offered it to the drunk guys for a dollar. This led to another twenty minutes of entertainment for the young "gentlemen." They passed around the magazines. They negotiated prices and told the old man that he was in the wrong business. Instead of pulling out just any magazine from trash cans and dumpsters, he needed to look specifically for booty magazines. Porn would leave him flush with cash. They went into detail about this. I moved to the back of the bus. The man took his sales job seriously and it was sad to watch. He obviously had some kind of dementia or mental problem. Did he have family or anyone taking care of him?

4) Lovely experience at a sports bar. Sarcasm implied. Obviously.

Interaction with friend of a friend of a friend, while person I knew was in the bathroom.

"Hey if X strikes out with you, you should give me a call. I've got a king size bed and I've been staring down your shirt all night. You took your vitamins. Good job."

WHAT!? As a friend later said... "Why do the rudest apes always approach women in bars? Because the cute ones are more subtle and don't need to... "

At any rate, I almost wanted to hear more of his gibberish since it's such great material and hard to make up...

Well... that's all for now folks. Until next time.

Nomadic Life

Being a nomad is not the same as being a drifter. A nomad has a connection to a way of life that includes a sense of community and tradition even if people are not always together or on a particular piece of land. A drifter is an individual who's defined by being unattached and floating in the wind and currents.

The online Oxford Dictionary defines nomad as, "a member of a people having no permanent abode, and who travel from place to place to find fresh pasture for their livestock... a person who does not stay long in the same place; a wanderer." Its origin comes from the "late 16th century: from French nomade, via Latin from Greek nomas, nomad-'roaming in search of pasture', from the base of nemein 'to pasture'" (http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/nomad?region=us). Its definition of a drifter is "1 a person who is continually moving from place to place, without any fixed home or job. 2 a fishing boat equipped with a drift net." (http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/drifter?region=us)

A nomad travels in search of fresh pasture. A drifter floats along like a boat with a cast net. Both travel to maintain a livelihood and nourishment, but only one, by definition is "a member of a people having no permanent abode." A nomad is linked to tradition and community, even when wandering alone. What is the modern equivalent of leading sheep to fresh pastures?

Rural Escapades

Running in the woods feels amazing. Not in a park. Not on a path next to a river or a lake bordering a highway, but in the actual woods. No smog, no bus sounds, no creepy strangers, just creepy neighbors. Okay that's not fair, my neighbors aren't creepy (anymore).

So much better than running on the road. No cars and the dirt actually gives a little bit, unlike pavement. It's that non-choreographed relationship with nature that feels great. Parks don't do it justice.

The tics, mosquitoes, mud, rain and broken branches? Obstacles and necessary evils. Maybe. Are tics really necessary?

Old friends. Old friends are amazing. You know who you are. You can tell them everything, thinking it's everything, and they fill in the blanks.

Running with an old friend, thinking of a montage of the runs that came before and laughing as I struggle to keep up. Sometimes it's me. Sometimes it's her. This time it's me. Why doesn't running shape last forever? I guess that would defeat the purpose of actually having to keep up a practice and run.

Homemade pies, home cooking, neighborhood woods and staying home with a book. It's good to be back in New England.

LAUGHING AT ONESELF WHILE JOB SEARCHING

1) Wait, where's my spam folder? Maybe I got a response and gmail thought it was spam...

Oh, oops, no spam. How is that even possible?

2) I miss the days at my college library where I dared to leave my laptop unattended.

Now I'm ferociously protective of my netbook, the less expensive, prized cousin of the college laptop.

3) Believe me baristas, I've been a barista. I know what it's like to see that person who spends all her time and money in your coffee shop. But believe me, job searching is work too! Shh.. you weren't supposed to see I was on facebook and/or blogging!

4) Shoot. There's a typo there. If only I hadn't read and reread that email thirteen times, I would have noticed it!

5) Hm.. maybe my name's too long. Yes, that is definitely it. Name is too long. Lets shorten it. Wait what?

6) Yes, I will lug around a 1,000-page-novel to distract myself from job searching when I need a break from researching on the internet but don't dare to step away from my strategically chosen table near the electric socket. And if I close my computer I might lose all those windows I opened!

7) Okay, now I HAVE to walk around. What can I leave behind on my table that wouldn't be likely to be stolen? And even if it were stolen, wouldn't matter much? And it needs to suggests there is a person inhabiting said table, making it not welcome to be taken over by you or anyone else!

8) Time to move on. Until next time, decision makers somehow connected to me through the world wide web.

Cold Feet

London is in a constant state of rain. It's either raining, it might rain, it did rain, or magically it's not raining.

Like a good cold weather native, I prefer snow. My favorite solution to rain is to curl up on a cozy couch with a good book and a hot beverage. Sadly in a country where it rains four times a day, this is not a solution at all. The rain chills me. I want dry socks, and comfy shoes that don't embarrass me in public and keep me the right level of warm. In the winter this is possible. Good winter boots are more than a fashion accessory; they're trusted old friends and loyal companions. I love my all-terrain, four-wheel drive snow boots, but they fail me in the rain. Too warm.

And rain boots are such a drama to buy! The good looking ones cost a fortune. And the cheap ones never make me want to wear them so why invest the money? They break; they're uncomfortable; water gets in them anyway; they're hard to fit under or over pants. So... what do I do? Wear sneakers? Usually that works okay, unless they get soaked. Wet feet leads to suffering. Sometimes carrying extra socks is a good solution. Why is it pleasant to walk along the ocean barefoot in wet sand but wet shoes are miserable? Is this misery surrounding wet shoes the origin of the expression to get cold feet, such as cold feet before a wedding? I guess once upon a time people fell seriously ill from wet feet and a lack of scientific and medical knowledge could make the situation deadly, meaning that travelers may have interrupted errands or returned home to nurse cold feet... I'll have to research this phrase. I'm intrigued.

Nightlife

"Nightlife in London is for the rich to kill time. In New York it's an exhausting chase for the next new sensation. In Paris it's a natural extension of daily life for the rich and poor alike. People like to dance, listen to music, attend shows and look at pretty women. Parisians are surprised when the English tell them that this is immoral. What is immoral? The activities? The hour? Or that they are enjoyed?"

Paraphrased from a book illustrated by Brassaï on Parisian nightlife found at the Royal Academy in London. Not so wrong!

Soccer on AA: Arsenal vs. Udinese

Gone are the days of changing train cars three times to avoid thirty drunk, beefy men singing football songs and looking for a fight. If not gone, less frequent. Has London's hooligan situation been relocated from stadiums to history books? In the context of recent riots, maybe the need for violence has just transformed.

Watching live soccer, football, whatever you want to call it, is a completely different experience from watching sports in the USA. Coming from Red Sox and Cubs territory, I'm used to stadiums being glorified bars. Okay, I'm a baseball fan, and both Fenway and Wrigley Field have a value beyond alcohol consumption but no one who's been to either place can claim that a majority of people don't also go there to get their drink on.

So imagine my surprise when I reach the front of the line to order a cider (it was advertised on the giant menu above the cashier and it being England, cider is served everywhere) and I am informed that no alcohol is sold anywhere in the stadium during Champions League games. I had been told that you couldn't take anything back to the stadium seats, but that alcohol could be consumed in the lobby/ concession area. No biggie, I got a coffee, but talk about a different environment than Boston. Imagine if the Banknorth Garden suddenly stopped selling beer. Imagine the drunk next to you not spilling his beer on you in the bleachers at Fenway. What a different world.

Besides this being a sober event, my friend and I were seated in the Family Section. Not sure what that means... the crowd was relatively subdued but the profanity still flew freely from the kid/man behind me. His date scolded him regularly though and asked him to watch his language because of the children nearby. Maybe the scolding made it a family section. Don't know.

It was also a different experience to be a foreign fan ignorant of cheers, songs, players... and feeling impartial about the teams.

The guy behind me was about to have a heart attack at every kick. His date fed him sugar. Said it might calm his nerves. Funny logic.

Arsenal vs. Udinese

My first live soccer/football game, but probably not the last. Next one in Argentina?