Stacey Moves

Friday, April 13, 2007

Dear Dennis,
You don't know me well, but I've been an admirer of yours for some time now. I look for you every time I go shopping, but rarely do I see your tattooed arms and slicked-back hair. The first time we met I was rushing back to work from my lunch break and as I collected my protein bar and bottled water you winked at me, sending my heart all aflutter. After weeks and weeks of looking for you at the Express Check-out line, we met again! You were singing softly under your breath, and when I asked if you were in a band, you replied, "I am." "Do you sing," I asked, kicking myself for stating the obvious, when you answered, "I sing, and I also play the sax and sometimes drums." Just when I had gotten my heart rate down, you got serious with the customer in front of me. What was he saying? Something about the organic goat cheese? I thought I would melt into a warm puddle on the floor when you began discussing organic food and the perils of corporate farming...can we ever be, the two of us? If you would like to meet, I'll be waiting for you between the Australian Shiraz and the Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc next Friday at 1pm- you know the aisle. I have short hair and hazel eyes. That's all you need to know. See you next Friday, my love.

Yours Truly,

Friday, April 06, 2007

i am officially fucking happy. i have been dreaming of moving to london and attending drama school for the past four years, and my dream came true!! i'm moving to london to attend drama school in the fall! now, what does this mean, in the grand scheme of things? well, first of all, i will be leaving my parent's house (raise the roof) and the confines of tucson, az. please don't misunderstand, i have nothing but love for t-town, but you try living in los angeles for five years, studying abroad in england, then moving back to your childhood home and tell me how awesome it is to live there. if you think it is awesome, sweet, peace out- i'm going to london! shall i tell you about my trip? ok. it started out with an easy flight to los angeles where i was greeted by my superfantastic friend, lisa, who has been living in italy for the past two years. needless to say, it was a joyous reunion. *side-note: lisa is amazing. she's 5' tall with black ringlets that flow down her back and eyelashes that can (and do) seduce anything with a pulse. she's fluent in italian and can tear that shit up on the dance floor.* i was introduced to her new man (whom she met and fell in love with in florence.....) and was treated to one of the most spectacular meals by her father, the don, dominic cirincione. maybe i should move to italy.... the time came to hop the pond, so i boarded flight VS024 to london (god bless virgin airlines- truly awesome), and settled in next to one of the most talkative men alive. sweet, pretty attractive, cute accent (from cyprus) but a salesman and not an OUNCE of cynicism or sarcasm to speak of. *sigh* what a waste. so i watched movies and drank wine and waited for the damn plane to land, already! alone, navigating my way through hoardes of london commuters, i find my hotel and lurch up to my room on the third floor. let's talk about the elevator- when i say 'big enough for one person' i mean i had to sit on my suitcase in order to fit inside this thing. kind of too small for even some scandalous elevator action. too small. (looking ahead two days, when the elevator breaks down and i have to walk up 4 flights of stairs to my room, i'm starting to remember the elevator being pretty spacious.) i won't go into the details of every day in london, i'll just fill you in on some of the highlights. first, pineapple- my little refuge in the chaos of covent garden; the biggest dance studio i've ever seen in my life (featured on BBC's 'bump 'n grind') and home to some of the coolest dance teachers ever. i took class with fleur, just like old times, and the only bad part about it was finding out that next week, when i'm gone, she'll be starting a dance to the beyonce/shakira duet- "it's going to be very sexual" she says- BUT I WON'T BE HERE NEXT WEEK! oh well. next on my list of awesome moments, the man on the street who asked me out. he was random, he was selling something or petitioning something, but he was not unattractive or smelly or dirty and he followed me until i agreed to go out with him, with the understanding that i would be leaving the country and that it would never actually happen. i was flattered. that same day a very sweet girl with the cutest accent i've ever heard invited me to her birthday party on saturday. hurrah! new friends! in this glow of happiness i decide to take myself out to dinner at fontana, a very chic lebanese restaurant around the corner from my hotel. dining alone is an interesting activity- people don't really know what to make of the solitary diner. i happen to enjoy it very much, but start to feel self-conscious without a book or a journal or something to occupy my eyes so that i don't stare at everyone around me for too long. anyway, the food was amazing and the crazy old man who gave me baklava was flirting with me. the baklava was f***ing amazing. i finished off the evening by purchasing a single serving bottle of wine, a 10 pack of cigarettes and heading back to the hotel (note: i am not a smoker; i haven't even had a drag off a cigarette in over a year, but for some reason i needed to buy some cigarettes.) for two days i battled the rain, sans umbrella. yeah, it was annoying to walk in the rain, but when travelling in london on a budget, there's no way i am going to spend ten pounds ($20!!!) on a cheap-ass umbrella. just not my priority. i've got beer to drink and shopping at h&m to do. on saturday i went to essex- nothing to see here- and spent the day auditioning for east15, very cool, very alternative drama school. met lots of brit kids and felt really lame with my american accent.... when it came time to do my shakespeare monologue, however, they all went nuts over my accent (and i thought they all sounded so smart.) the fun and games ended when i got to the tube station and was told that all trains were stopped because some crazy had a gun. "we could be here all night," said the old, bitter, stupid, lazy tube man. shit. i'm in the middle of nowhere, with no alternative transportation. what's this? a train? going west? and it's ready to depart?! in your FACE, old man! yes, it did take me over an hour to travel the twelve miles back to central london, but i had my new brit kids with me, so i didn't mind. once i got back i started getting ready for my night out with my other new friend! i did my make-up and mussed my hair and made sure i looked HOT. then i got on the bus to piccadilly. i walked in circles for about 15mins. until i found the street. i was a little annoyed. i'm walking around by myself mind you, at 10pm, going to a party where i don't really know one person. by myself. i'm pretty impressed with myself. i paid the cover and went inside where i was instantly bombarded by flashing lights, some remix blasting through the air and in the corner a stage, with a pole, and girls going wild. where am i? i took a lap- no kelly. she said she was wearing a green dress. i stood up on a higher level and looked out over the crowd. if i were wasted and with some friends, probably would have loved the place, but i was SOBER and BY MYSELF and i was tired. i took one more lap until i stormed up to the girl at the door and asked for my money back. then i left. not exactly awesome, but hey, didn't kill me either. now for my last night in london, i didn't have any big plans. i spent the day soaking up the sun- yes, sun. it was like a perfect day in san diego. blue sky, lots of sun, 65 degrees, everybody was out and loving life. i decided to go into the pub by my hotel and get a drink. stella in hand, book out, i settled in and started to relax. then. he. sat. down. this man, in his fifties, who i had noticed at the bar before, looking creepy. obviously wasted. ugh. he wanted to talk about- i don't even know! he was so fucked up. started lecturing me about why we have seasons on this planet, and other boring shit. luckily his friend was pleasant and sober and very sweet. suddenly, mr. grosso noticed a friend of his, albert, who came and joined us. albert was very cool. thick french accent, black, about 6'2", grey turtleneck, grey scarf, grey jacket, sunglasses. he's from the ivory coast. his father was a politician. he used to be a dancer. in paris. now he's a chef. we talked about music and politics and travel. we smoked cigarettes (aha, that's why i purchased them) and decided to leave beligerent-land and go elsewhere. the conversation continued and albert invited me to go to a blues bar with him. a part of me recoiled immediately and went into little miss priss mode- "i don't know this guy, i should stay in, this might be dangerous, what if he wants to take advantage of me!" somewhere deep inside, a part of me kicked into fuck-it mode- "this is your last night, this man is completely lovely, relax, ENJOY YOURSELF." so we left and headed for the blues bar. albert shook the door man's hand, walked right in, no problem, and we settled in at the bar. now, i can't say that i was completely comfortable, but albert was unlike anyone i have ever met. and he was a complete gentleman who just wanted to get to know me and hang out. we had a few drinks, listened to some really cool music and got to know one another. when i was ready to go, he walked me to the bus stop, kissed me good-bye and that was it. i had a fantastic time. i never would have thought that i could travel by myself for seven days and have as much fun as i did. i am completely in love with london and the idea of living there, but i'm starting to fall in love with myself and the idea of being me. thanks to albert (silent 't', please) assamoi, the streets of london, good food, good drink and all the lovely people in between.