A Week of Contrasts

In Which Theresa Learns More About Life, London, and Leaving a Job

The week past I spent with friends old and new, and even a long-lost cousin I hadn't seen for seven years. I'm happy to have my flatmates back after three weeks of living alone, and hereby resolve to not complain I don't have a social life. (Watch me!) The most exciting development is that I have a job interview on Wednesday at Queen Mary, part of the University of London just like King's. It's basically the same job I have now, except with more responsibility, a chance to trave to the States, and more money.

I hope and pray that I get the job, because I've decided, after much soul-searching and denial, that I'd rather not continue my job at King's (i.e. ask for an extension). I know, I know... I told my parents over Christmas that I'd rather have a job I hate in London than be unemployed in Shirland, but I just don't think I can do that to myself. I've got to have confidence that all will work out, because I know I'm cut out for more than moving papers from one box to another. I'm looking for people to tell me it's gonna all be okay, because I'm not sure this is the right decision. And something tells me my family won't be happy if I move home. But after seeing how successful and happy my cousin Nicholas is, through dint of hard work, talent, knowing the right people and seizing opportunities, I'd like to think that with a little perseverence I, too, could have a job I enjoy. Something...creative? But in the meantime, there's Queen Mary. They want someone who's familiar with the American higher education system, and I'm like "Helloooo? I'm perfect!" So wish me luck.

In Which Theresa Passes Herself Off As Wordly

Tom called up on Monday and invited me to the Lansdowne Club to watch him fence and for a bit of a tipple. I was delighted to accept, of course, even more since I ran into James. We sat around drinking red wine, until it was time to leave. Tom and I got a ride home from a successful lawyer who works in the City. 'Where do you live?' he asked. 'South Kensington,' I replied. 'Me too!' he said excitedly. Thing is, he can actually afford it. But people don't know that I'm really just a poor girl making her way in the cold, hard world. (And just in case you were wondering, no, he's 5'2 and bald.)

Tom's latest addition to his many talents is moonlighting as a music promoter--and I'm excited to be attending his first venture, Sunday Cafe. 10 hours of music, four bands, two DJs, sponsored by one of the big-name radio stations. He and his business partners have poured a lot of capital into this monthly venture, so I'm doing what I can and bringing three friends. It sounds awesome, and I'm sure will be a smashing success given that they'll have a bit in Time Out and the Metro newspaper.

In Which Theresa Learns Blood Is Thicker Than Cocktails

Monday I got an email from my cousin Nicholas, whom I am proud to say is listed in the IMDB. My brother just visited him in L.A. on his roadtrip out West, where he works as a producer. Nicholas and I have similar backgrounds: Midwest kids who went to the same private school (well, for four years in my case). There the similarities end: he went to the East Coast for his education, ending up graduating from Columbia, even modelling for Calvin Klein for a while. (What can I say? Good looks run in the family. *cough*) Then our lives begin to parallel again: in his mid-20s he moved abroad, just like me. Except to Vietnam, where he stayed for eight years producing films. And moi? Well, we'll see if I get to stay here or if I have to return home, a failure who talks about the time she once lived in London for a while.

Anyway, Nicholas was in town with his beautiful girlfriend Shawn, 'working'--meaning wining and dining clients and hanging out in private members-only clubs devoted to members of the film industry. Interestingly, the one where I met them, Soho House, is where Jude Law's daughter swallowed an ecstasy tablet. Er, cool.

I was a bit nervous meeting him, regardless of how cool my brother thinks he is. Heck, I hadn't seen the guy since I was a sophomore in high school! But like the subject line says, blood is thicker than--well, cocktails, of which we had many both at Soho House and the Groucho Club. I'm not close with many people on my dad's side of the family, and Nicholas in particular I never felt I knew. Not only is there the 12-year age gap, but he lived so far away for so long that I wondered if the distance would be insurmountable. However, I've grown up, maybe caught up, and we catch up we did on everything from what he's been doing the past few years to the latest family get-together.

I'll be honest: I envy him his life. I won't dwell on it, but wonder if I'll ever have such a cool existence. Or at least be as content and happy. Who knows? I'm just starting out. Among the cousinly wisdom Nicholas dispensed was how glad he is I'm over here, doing what not many recent college grads from a Midwest university do. It's nice to have adulation from such a successful, fun person, and it gives me confidence that, knock on wood, I'll be able to do something cool with my life.

In Which Theresa Continues On With The Cocktails

Where else but Europe does the first get-together of new Exchange students involve taking them out for drinks? That's just what Rachel and I did (me very relieved that Orientation for 108 students, which I planned, was finally over with only a few problems). It was so enjoyable being with the three UofI kids, plus an Aussie, a Portuguese-born Chinese-Canadian, and a Singaporean/Malasian (and I had nothing else planned), that the students and I carried on drinking in Covent Garden. Then, 9 p.m., I texted my cool coworker Tim to see if he was still out drinking with our other workmates. No, but would I like to? Sure! Half an hour later we were started on the night-long binge that, included with the drinks I had with the Exchange students, was comprised of three venues around Covent Garden and the following number of drinks:
1--2) Pimm's
3--5) Smirnoff Ices
6) Screwdriver
7) Tequila sunrise
8--????) Two pitchers of screaming orgasms

'Oh dear' is right.

In Which Theresa Is Stabbed In The Back, In A Well-Meaning Way

Tim ended up telling me a lot about work: gentle criticism that I didn't take very well (you know me--but I needed to hear it), like how I don't find it easy to admit I've made mistakes. (True--I royally screwed up a PreMed's application and while I've apologised to Jo about it, every time he's on the phone to someone sorting it out I leave the room because I don't want to talk to him about it.) He also said I'm not always right just because I'm smart (hey, I can't help it if I'm smarter than half the people in the office, right?). :)

He also repeated a few other comments that people have made to him about me. Not just harmless repetition of statements and opinions I've made, but stuff along the lines of 'She doesn't seem like she really cares about belonging to the office.' Apparently I've since changed people's minds due to volunteering for one of Claire's stupid chatroom sessions, but all the same it was aggravating to learn about the passive-aggressive behaviour that passes for sincerity at work. And Tim told me--and perhaps this was the catalyst to my decision mentioned earlier--that I'd most likely be happier away from the 'bitches' in the office. How about the 'bastard'? I know he and Jo (one of my bosses) are good friends, but Jo and I have never gotten on the way Rachel and I have. Different personalities. But it annoyed me to learn that after I'd asked Jo if he would give me a job reference, he asked Tim what he should say. As if he hasn't been working with me daily for over four months--surely there has to be something good to say? Okay, enough venting for now. But opinions on all of this would be appreciated.

In Which Theresa Plays With Fireworks And Rats, Unfortunately Not Simultaneously

I'm happy to announce that Tim, half German though he is, reported being extremely hungover on Saturday, because I certainly was. It wore off enough that by 6 p.m. I was able to make it down to Steven & Emma's south of London. I love going there to relax--they have a very uncomplicated lifestyle. Same worries as anyone else, but they don't get all worked up over things like I do, and they let me rattle on if I feel the need. While waiting for our curries to arrive, Steven and I lit off fireworks in their back garden. Amazing fun when one of them exploded, and when the Roman Candle fell over and the huge bursts of fire barely cleared the greenhouse by half a foot. Yeah!

Then, while watching Pirates of the Caribbean, we played with two of their seven rats. Growing up on a farm, I'm not so keen on the whole rodent thing. Rats, muskrats, beavers: all should be exterminated as the pestilential menances they are. But these were nice girl rats, although they still had disgusting tails as long as they are. I held Bear and noticed her grumbling--turns out rats talk to each other constantly, but in such a high register it doesn't, uh, register. They purposely lower their voices when trying to communicate with humans. It was actually quite cute! While I'm not going to run out and buy a rodent of any sort in the near future, it was fun to play with an animal.

Also nice is knowing that if need be, I can stay with Steven and Emma if I'm between flats. That is, best case scenario.

In Which The East End Was Explored

There's nothing nicer than waking up to someone bringing you a cup of tea. Emma really spoils me, and I think should open a B&B at some point. I hightailed it back to London, printed out and dropped off a job application, and then rendezvoused with Tim. Off we went, down Brick Lane, past where Petticoat Market (renamed Middlesex Market to preserve Queen Victoria's sensibilities), Spitalfields Market, Brick Lane Market and the Columbia Flower Market are held, and to the Geffrye Museum. It was a cool (and free!) way to spend an hour, looking at how houses have changed throughout the decades in perfectly fitted-out rooms. Plus I had a perfect guide to show me around Shoreditch, which is the area where the East End meets the City. If I end up working for Queen Mary I might move there... We'll see.

In Which Theresa Returns To Normalcy

Back home, I was greeted with the lovely sight of Elizabeth, Brenna, and Brenna's cool Australian friend Simon (whose singing is on the Lord of the Rings soundtrack). We sat and caught up on their Christmases and New Year's, and just all around enjoyed each other's company. It's fantastic having flatmates again, and we are all hoping to delay getting more flatmates as long as possible. A contingent of Boston University kids moved in today for three weeks, but luckily not in our flat. Perhaps we'll stave off the inevitable a few weeks longer...

In Which You Are No Doubt Tired Of Reading This

So I will bid thee adieu, and thank you for your time. It's appreciated, and I hope you enjoy reading it. I'm sorry I'm so wordy, but I just can't help it. You won't be hearing from we for a while since my best friend Megan and her boyfriend Joel are coming to visit starting Wednesday! I can't wait--we've been planning this for years.

Love,
Theresa