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Yesterday I took the 2 train from 96th St to Penn Station after work, before my first 401 improv class at UCB.

I was entirely in my own world, standing mid train thinking about any number of a million things, when this older gentleman tapped me on the shoulder (sort of awkwardly as he was directly in front of me, although I must admit I hadn't even noticed him until he entered my immediately-personal-space bubble with the shoulder tap/poke and anyway), when he had my attention he asked,

"Excuse me do you ride the 1 train?" (to which I said yes I do), and he wondered whether he could transfer to the 1 from the 2 at 14th St or if he had to do so at 42nd Street.  He was going to the West Village.  So I explained that either way he'd have a fine time transferring, the train would come to the track right across from the one we were on at both stops, but he shouldn't worry about holding off until 14th St, that would make his trip that much quicker.

And he said thank you and I said your welcome and was ready to go back to my little lala land, but just then a girl sitting behind me to the left (who again I definitely had not noticed in the time it took to get from 96th St to about 72nd St where we were at that point), spoke up 

"Excuse me - actually, I have a similar question," she said to me, and then she asked if she could transfer at 14th St for the 1 train, because she was ultimately going to South Ferry. 

And she could, I told her.  And she thanked me.  And the older man who'd first consulted me smiled and said something along the lines of "everyone's asking you for a little help today."  To which I smiled and thought about saying something like "real New Yorker" or a remark of that nature, but I couldn't because just then a man I HAD noticed get on the train with me at 96th St and HAD passively noticed NOT be able to get a seat originally, put his hand on my shoulder in the MOST familiar way, like an uncle at a family function excusing himself as he passes behind you to get to the dessert table, and the man who hadn't gotten a seat originally gave me this look, because a seat had opened up right in front of me and he was going for it, and one can only assume that he'd just seen me dole out directions to these two other folks on the train, so he knew I was good for going ahead and letting him take that seat there....

And it was such a bizarre series of events, that I said (under my breath I guess, but aloud probablya and embarrassingly enough) "where am I?"

At which time... I swear to God... a woman walked onto the train at 42nd Street with her nose in a book, and the cover of the book said

And needless to say, I think I know the next book I'll be buying for subway reading material.

Dear Universe,

I received your two latest signs.

My question is: why don't you want me to see "Blue Valentine" alone? Twice this week I've planned little "me time" excursions to the sole movie theaters still showing the film in either Boston or New York, and twice you've kept me from being able to do so.

What's that about?

Are you afraid it will make me cry?

Of course it will make me cry.

Every movie makes me cry.

Do you think it will stop me from believing in relationships and love?

I promise it won't. I promise I will primarily be there to see the acting prowesses of Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosseling.

I promise it won't replace "The Notebook" / "Lars and the Real Girl" as my favorite Ryan Gosseling movies.

I'm curious as to whether the third time I try to catch it will be a charm.

And I'm most curious as to whether or not I should chance it.

Thanks in advance for what I'm hoping will be a better night's sleep tonight than last night's as a result of not having had cash on me tonight OR my ATM card in my wallet when I went to see the 8:15 at The Lincoln Plaza Cinema.

Sweet dreams.

Sincerely,