Imagine London

That's what my Travel magazine asks me to do, to imagine London. When I arrive in my apartment and riffle through my mail only to discover yet another reference to a land across the pond, I am irritated and I tell the magazine that lay upon my counter-top staring back at me as much. Actually, I yell in a very defeated voice, "I get it!" I am tired of all of the signs and references to some place that I am not going, but the man who I am in love with is leaving me for. I know I won't going with him, I know it is pointless to ask or even dream about, therefore all references to the land of fairies, goblins, castles, princes, warm beer, and misty streets can cease once and for all.

I throw the magazine on my catch-all known as my kitchen table and go about my days of fuzzy memories, all consuming thoughts about life and how it isn't working out, and the life plans that are all convoluted are left swirling in my head. But, that magazine cover won't leave me alone. Every time I go into my kitchen it stares at me. It's cover screaming at me telling me to Imagine London. Imagine London in all of her glory with the backdrop of Parliament in the warm glow of a sunrise, Imagine London. Grrrrrr.

I know what you're thinking, why don't I just throw it away? Cause I can't. I need to Imagine London, after all she is beckoning me, so why not entertain the thought, the visions, the chippy accents, strange money, cocky educations, smoky pubs, and damp days, why not torture myself a little bit longer? Plus, I still need to read the $3.95 magazine and see what the glory of London would behold for me. In short, I don't want to. I like the misery.

Finally after reading the article and flipping through the pages that I had dog-eared I throw it back on the catch-all. Then I throw it into the book bin catch-all, still visible, yet seemingly out of sight.

Then I start to do my own things. I apply for jobs at Harvard and Cornell. I start to look into grad school programs that are nowhere near here. I book and paid for my trip to Greece. I start to daydream again. I start to think and imagine a life outside of here, outside of myself, outside of my current life. I start to imagine London. I start to think about London for myself, by myself. I start to dream and think about the possibility of the impossible. Me, in grad school. Me, on my own somewhere else. Me, in a different job. Me, as an artist. Me, in Greece by myself. Me, in London. Imagine. And that's what I've started to do. I've started to believe in me again. To believe in my possibilities. To believe in the impossible.

I've always been my own best cheerleader, but I've also always been my own worst critic. I'm now becoming my own best cheerleader again. Mr. London was a positive force in my life in many respects. I fell in love for the first time. I fell for a really good man and not an ass like I normally do. I met a wonderful new friend who I've had a lovely time with over the past several months. But most importantly, without him even knowing or being aware of it, he made me believe in myself and he made me imagine things bigger and better than myself and outside of my world. I started to imagine huge things and changes, I started to imagine London for myself, in my own way and in my own dream, not piggy-backing someone else's dreams and goals.

I've been asked by everyone who knows the situation, "Why aren't you going with him?" Well, for one I wasn't asked, but I also don't think I'm supposed to, not yet. I think I'm supposed to go when it's right for me, when they are my own dreams, goals, possibilities that I am imagining, not someone else's. I look forward to that day and I also think it's a lot closer than even I know or could possibly realize.