Welcome to the first Autumnal post. I'm a few days late on the whole season. For those wondering, it began September 22, 2009 at 5:18 pm EDT. I have no idea how it was decided that 5:17 pm EDT was still too summery, but who am I to try and understand the abstract concept of time and space.
Sidenote: I do not like that Daylight Saving Time (yeah, I thought it was SavingS too, but when I saw that every entry in Google left off the 'S', I realized I was wrong. That and it does make more sense, grammatically of course) now ends in November. I enjoy brisk days and sunsets at 4:15pm EST. End Sidenote
It's hard for me to decide which season is my favorite... no it's not, I love Fall. To be fair though, I also love the Christmas season. In fact, I love that over all types of seasons, hot dog season, baseball season, Lawry's season-ing, etc. Weatherwise, though, Fall or Autumn to people who enjoy Jane Austen novels, is unbeatable, especially in New England. Where else in the world can you walk around in a light jacket and jeans, pick apples, watch the leaves turn vivid colors, and pair hot cider with cinnamon donuts? New England you say? YES! It's just a very nice time of year and makes me happy. I don't freeze. I don't sweat (unless it's an Indian summer in which case, I'm unhappy). It's mostly unrainy. I think people are generally in better moods. Plus look at this list of all the cool stuff that occurs this time of year:
1. apples
2. pretty leaves
3. new tv shows
4. apple pies
5. Halloween*
6. candy
7. Thanksgiving!
8. pie
9. Columbus Day
10. reasonable temperatures
11. fireplace fires
12. Turkey
*Halloween is a holiday of mixed emotions for me. I could go into all the childhood trauma that occured around this holiday, but I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I love and loathe All Hallow's Eve. I love the "kid stuff." It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! is an all-time favorite and truly transcends season, as do all the Peanuts classics. I also love Hocus Pocus! I may even watch that tonight. Candy, is a no brainer, especially Halloween candy. I love a fun-size Snickers. Pumpkin carving, while fun, is a bit overrated. I think my inner perfectionist is annoyed with pumpkin carving because it could never make one that looked like the picture on the little tool kit. In college we painted mini pumpkins. Apparently, my roommate lost hers, only to have it found eight months later as a shriveled black ball of unknown origin until I could make out the painted on face. It was one of those moments of horrible recognition. I was psyched that it didn't smell or liquify though. I enjoy handing out candy to kids in costumes, but I HATE the big kids who decide to come in packs and then think that a mask change is enough to fool me into giving them another hand full of candy. NO! I know it's the same kid in the Red Sox sweatshirt. I get Good N' Plenty for them.
My ideal Halloween is spent at home with a big pot of chili, Charlie Brown, Bette Midler/Kathy Najimy/Penny Marshall (I know SJP is in there, and while I enjoy her part, I love these three the most), and trick-or-treaters. Nothing crazy. I've done the crazy on so many levels, and I'm so over that. Halloween (the original and one of the few horror films that I really like. I also enjoy Scream) is about as whacky as I want to get. Wow, I sound old
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Should I stay or should I go??
Ever had a day where you wonder if you should just turn around and go back to bed? Where you think that you may have stepped into a bit of a karmic wrinkle and, while you're not a bad person, you may be getting the short end of the stick, karmicly speaking. Well, today has started out as one of those days, I think.
I left home without any event. Unlike yesterday, where the cat decided to jump up on the counter and knock over a full container of soy milk and spill 75% of it's contents before I could grab it. The cat and the counter were covered in soy milk, which unlike regular milk, gets very sticky when it starts to dry. I threw him in the tub and washed him off (he's not terrified of water like other cats, but he definitely wasn't psyched about this speedy and maybe slightly rough bath). Then I had to clean up the counter and wipe up the floor. Now if your counter is like mine, there are roughly 10,000 things on it and each one is now sitting in a puddle of soy milk. That was not fun to clean up, but the day itself wasn't half bad.
Today... today the bus raged against me. It started with traffic. My previous entry discusses why traffic has become hellish as of late. Today was no better, in fact, it was worse than yesterday. Because of the traffic, the buses were unable to arrive with their regular frequency, making each bus that does appear ten times more crowded than usual. I was unable to procure a seat when my bus of choice finally appeared, so I tucked myself into one of the doorways. This isn't as bad as it sounds. There's more stability for standing and less people to bump into. Sounds lovely, right? NO! When the bus was finally able to achieve a pace greater than 10mph, something horrific occured. The bus leaked on me. Yes, I was minding my own business, listening to music, and a stream of water poured from one of the crappy light fixtures onto my head. SO GROSS. How old is that water?!? Where did it come from!? Does it carry disease, like cholera or typhoid?!? The problem I faced, besides the utter disgust, was that the bus was packed and it was nearly impossible to find another place to stand.
When I was finally able to extricate myself from the bus shower, I tried to manuver myself up the stairs to the back, only to find myself pushed down into an "open" seat. I use quotes since the openness of the seat is questionable. Sitting in the seat next to me was none other than Giant Sweaty Spiderman. He was taking up 1.5 seats, leaving me with the remaining .5 seat. The thing is that GSS seems like a decent guy. Kind of scary at first glance, but he was just chillin' there, bopping his head to whatever was coming out of his pink earbuds. I have to say, sitting with one buttcheek on half a seat is not comfortable. That and you end up blocking the aisle so everyone moving past you must touch you or bump into you. Not enjoyable.
I finally make it to my stop and exit the bus. I'm still skeaved out about the bus shower. As I try and cross the street to get to the hospital, I'm nearly run down by a cop car. It was an undercover car with the lights in the grill, so I barely noticed it, that and I had the walk signal, so it's not like I was jaywalking (is that actually a punishable offense?). I see that I'm about to be run over by the car and jog to safety. In the meantime, my cellphone drops on the ground sending the back cover and battery skittering all over the place. I always pity those people who experience those incidents where everything they're holding suddenly jumps from their hands and scatters all over the place, usually in the middle of a crosswalk with cars bearing down on them. This time that was me. Amazingly, my phone seems to be okay. I haven't tried calling it, but it turns on and seems to be fine.
So that's what's going on. Not terrible, but not a great start to the day. I still feel unclean but not as frazzled as I did when I arrived at work. Here's hoping that the rest of the day is more calm.
Shtuff
I left home without any event. Unlike yesterday, where the cat decided to jump up on the counter and knock over a full container of soy milk and spill 75% of it's contents before I could grab it. The cat and the counter were covered in soy milk, which unlike regular milk, gets very sticky when it starts to dry. I threw him in the tub and washed him off (he's not terrified of water like other cats, but he definitely wasn't psyched about this speedy and maybe slightly rough bath). Then I had to clean up the counter and wipe up the floor. Now if your counter is like mine, there are roughly 10,000 things on it and each one is now sitting in a puddle of soy milk. That was not fun to clean up, but the day itself wasn't half bad.
Today... today the bus raged against me. It started with traffic. My previous entry discusses why traffic has become hellish as of late. Today was no better, in fact, it was worse than yesterday. Because of the traffic, the buses were unable to arrive with their regular frequency, making each bus that does appear ten times more crowded than usual. I was unable to procure a seat when my bus of choice finally appeared, so I tucked myself into one of the doorways. This isn't as bad as it sounds. There's more stability for standing and less people to bump into. Sounds lovely, right? NO! When the bus was finally able to achieve a pace greater than 10mph, something horrific occured. The bus leaked on me. Yes, I was minding my own business, listening to music, and a stream of water poured from one of the crappy light fixtures onto my head. SO GROSS. How old is that water?!? Where did it come from!? Does it carry disease, like cholera or typhoid?!? The problem I faced, besides the utter disgust, was that the bus was packed and it was nearly impossible to find another place to stand.
When I was finally able to extricate myself from the bus shower, I tried to manuver myself up the stairs to the back, only to find myself pushed down into an "open" seat. I use quotes since the openness of the seat is questionable. Sitting in the seat next to me was none other than Giant Sweaty Spiderman. He was taking up 1.5 seats, leaving me with the remaining .5 seat. The thing is that GSS seems like a decent guy. Kind of scary at first glance, but he was just chillin' there, bopping his head to whatever was coming out of his pink earbuds. I have to say, sitting with one buttcheek on half a seat is not comfortable. That and you end up blocking the aisle so everyone moving past you must touch you or bump into you. Not enjoyable.
I finally make it to my stop and exit the bus. I'm still skeaved out about the bus shower. As I try and cross the street to get to the hospital, I'm nearly run down by a cop car. It was an undercover car with the lights in the grill, so I barely noticed it, that and I had the walk signal, so it's not like I was jaywalking (is that actually a punishable offense?). I see that I'm about to be run over by the car and jog to safety. In the meantime, my cellphone drops on the ground sending the back cover and battery skittering all over the place. I always pity those people who experience those incidents where everything they're holding suddenly jumps from their hands and scatters all over the place, usually in the middle of a crosswalk with cars bearing down on them. This time that was me. Amazingly, my phone seems to be okay. I haven't tried calling it, but it turns on and seems to be fine.
So that's what's going on. Not terrible, but not a great start to the day. I still feel unclean but not as frazzled as I did when I arrived at work. Here's hoping that the rest of the day is more calm.
Shtuff
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Walker, 39Bus Ranger
Welcome to a retelling of my latest adventure on the 39! As many of you know, it's back to school time. This time of year makes me rather nostalgic. I feel the need to buy school supplies and sharpen pencils into what can best be described and school yard shivs. I want to bake things and wear sweaters. I get misty-eyed when I catch the smell of fireplace or burning leaves. I have a feeling that the majority of this nostalgia is manufactured by television or Disney. I grew up in the south and this time of year was still hot (it's going to hover around 80 degrees for the next week in Atlanta). I'm also shocked by the number of times I've smelled "fireplace". Seriously folks, is it that cold in your house? Open the windows and let some of the heat in.
Along with all this nostalgia comes a feeling of dread. I now dread school being back in session. I don't go to school, at least not yet, but the kids are back. The nearly teenager free bus that I have enjoyed these few months has changed. The kids who sit one to a seat, the ones who stand in the aisles and block my ability to exit the bus, and the ones who chatter on about inanity, are all back ruining my bus ride home. If they're not riding the city bus, they're riding the yellow bus. This yellow bus is magic. Not the Magic bus (which is kind of a stupid song about a guy buying the bus he rides everyday to visit his girlfriend... maybe he should just buy a car), but magical in the sense that it has the power to create traffic snarls that add roughly 30 to 45 minutes to my commute. Yes, it's true. I have no love for those attending school right now. The pill is too bitter, and I've just swallowed it. When the aftertaste finally fades, I'll resign myself to the facts of crappy teenagers on my bus.
Today, I saw something that helped me forget about everything that was mentioned above. There was a man on the bus, who I didn't even notice until he was trying to get off the bus. He was sitting in the front, and as you know, I like to sit in the back. His stop was on Centre St. near the Purple Cactus (yummy burritos if you're ever in JP, but not if you're my friend who I can't mention on the Internet. She does not enjoy the 2:1 rice and beans to meat ratio). In this poor man's attempt at getting off the bus, he nearly takes out the front section of seats with his walker. Apparently he had folded it to keep it out of the way. Whilst unfolding this contraption, he found the need to swing it about as though it were alive. Similar to the way a fish on the line will thrash with all it's might. The walker was the fish. I'm actually surprised that no one clubbed it to death. The Walker Wrangler finally righted himself and his walker, and proceeded to exit the bus. Now, these are kneeling buses, which means that they have some sort of hydraulic capability to lower themselves (even though I always imagine them kneeling in church listening to a priest), but WW didn't even blink an eye at the nearly two foot drop from bus to curb. He simply placed his walker on the ground and used it as a pivot point, much like a gymnast on the parallel bars. WW then proceeded to cross the street while carrying the walker in front of himself. By god, he'd do what the doctor told him, but he was going to do it his way (that's my impression of how he thinks). The bus drove away too soon. I would have enjoyed watching him carry his walker for a while, but that wasn't to be. I was on my way to another day. I hope the Walker Wrangler got to where he was going without having to use his walker, that he was able to stand on his own two feet and not feel gravity pulling his shoulders to the ground. I wish this for myself and for anyone who reads this.
For your listening pleasure. HUGE disclaimer. This was the only decent version of this song that I could find on youtube, but some guy set his screenshots from The Sims to this song. My suggestion is to listen to it with the window minimized, otherwise, it's really creepy.
Along with all this nostalgia comes a feeling of dread. I now dread school being back in session. I don't go to school, at least not yet, but the kids are back. The nearly teenager free bus that I have enjoyed these few months has changed. The kids who sit one to a seat, the ones who stand in the aisles and block my ability to exit the bus, and the ones who chatter on about inanity, are all back ruining my bus ride home. If they're not riding the city bus, they're riding the yellow bus. This yellow bus is magic. Not the Magic bus (which is kind of a stupid song about a guy buying the bus he rides everyday to visit his girlfriend... maybe he should just buy a car), but magical in the sense that it has the power to create traffic snarls that add roughly 30 to 45 minutes to my commute. Yes, it's true. I have no love for those attending school right now. The pill is too bitter, and I've just swallowed it. When the aftertaste finally fades, I'll resign myself to the facts of crappy teenagers on my bus.
Today, I saw something that helped me forget about everything that was mentioned above. There was a man on the bus, who I didn't even notice until he was trying to get off the bus. He was sitting in the front, and as you know, I like to sit in the back. His stop was on Centre St. near the Purple Cactus (yummy burritos if you're ever in JP, but not if you're my friend who I can't mention on the Internet. She does not enjoy the 2:1 rice and beans to meat ratio). In this poor man's attempt at getting off the bus, he nearly takes out the front section of seats with his walker. Apparently he had folded it to keep it out of the way. Whilst unfolding this contraption, he found the need to swing it about as though it were alive. Similar to the way a fish on the line will thrash with all it's might. The walker was the fish. I'm actually surprised that no one clubbed it to death. The Walker Wrangler finally righted himself and his walker, and proceeded to exit the bus. Now, these are kneeling buses, which means that they have some sort of hydraulic capability to lower themselves (even though I always imagine them kneeling in church listening to a priest), but WW didn't even blink an eye at the nearly two foot drop from bus to curb. He simply placed his walker on the ground and used it as a pivot point, much like a gymnast on the parallel bars. WW then proceeded to cross the street while carrying the walker in front of himself. By god, he'd do what the doctor told him, but he was going to do it his way (that's my impression of how he thinks). The bus drove away too soon. I would have enjoyed watching him carry his walker for a while, but that wasn't to be. I was on my way to another day. I hope the Walker Wrangler got to where he was going without having to use his walker, that he was able to stand on his own two feet and not feel gravity pulling his shoulders to the ground. I wish this for myself and for anyone who reads this.
For your listening pleasure. HUGE disclaimer. This was the only decent version of this song that I could find on youtube, but some guy set his screenshots from The Sims to this song. My suggestion is to listen to it with the window minimized, otherwise, it's really creepy.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-I-L-I-T-Y Find out what it means to me
Responsibility set to the tune of Respect doesn't work well. I even googled "responsibility lyrics" to see if there were any songs dealing with responsibility. Only two songs came up. One from MXPX and one from Ghetto Twiinz (sidenote: I originally and foolishly spelled Twiinz as Twins. I am very very white at times). Now with the first few bars of the MXPX song, I am instantly transported back to the early 'oughts. I get the shakes, crave cheap beer, and think about how my parents just don't understand my generation and then make a mental note to call one of them to ask for money. Just for kicks, I listened to the Ghetto Twiinz song. I don't know exactly what to say about this as I come from such a drastically different social construct. I do know that the woman who has the solo scares me and I would not shirk my responsibilities as her baby daddy if I were in said position. All of this being said, "responsibility" seems to be too serious a subject to set to music.
I'm sure you're also sitting there wondering what I'm trying to get at. I know that I digress... a lot, but I find these digressions entertaining little journeys through my mind. That and a life with no meandering would be very short and, at least in my view, boring. Think of them as literary "smell the flowers" moments.
This whole topic relates to a story from the 32 (not the 39. The 32 ventures further south and travels deep into the heart of darkness) coupled with my own musings on life in general. Let me begin with the 32. A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless since she objects to having any identifiers on the internet, boarded the 32 at Forrest Hills station. There was apparently a great deal of ruckus coming from up near the driver. Yelling could be heard throughout the bus. One would normally surmise that a passenger would be the origin of this outburst, but NO, it was the driver. The driver, for reasons unknown, was berating a passenger. While on his diatribe, his attentions were far from the road and his driving was becoming more and more reckless. Just as the passengers were begining their Hail Mary's and Our Father's, one lone woman, perhaps from Jamaica or Trinidad, stood up and began a speech so thoughtful that Obama should seriously consider adding her to his team. She addressed him as Mr. Driver and began to remind him of the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and children who were on this bus and only wanted to go home. It is Mr. Driver's responsibility to make sure that they get there safely. Mr. Driver realized what an ass he was being and apparently began driving in a non-we're all gonna die way.
Thankfully, Wise Island Woman was there, but it made me think of the times when we don't speak up and call people on behavior that negatively impacts us. I have to admit that I'm not good at pointing out bad behavior. I tend to walk away and just tell the offender to eff off (in my mind) if I say anything at all. While I should probably tell people to stop their shenanigans, I chicken out. I'm afraid to upset the peaceful balance, but the sad truth is, it doesn't exist. Ill-behaved people (I began to modify "shenanigans" by dropping the "ans" and adding "ers" then realized that I shouldn't do that.) have already upset my tranquility. Their behavior is negatively impacting me and causing me to alter my life. It's at this point that I have a problem. Should I say something? Will it resolve, or will the problem escalate? I don't know, but I've come to the realization that, in most cases (I say most since there are some situations where crazy is involved and one needs to slowly back away) I need to grow a pair and say something.
Wow, digress much? I guess the take home message in all of this is to realize that responsibility isn't just something that must be beat over our heads when trying to remain an adolescent or deny that we're someone's baby daddy (I feel weird using that term more than once). Responsibility is acting like a good person and not allowing others to let themselves be careless or even bad people. Maybe if we were more responsible, there would be a little less pain in the world. Maybe I wouldn't have to take my shoes off at the airport. Maybe we wouldn't have to lock all our doors and windows at night. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Something to listen to.
I'm sure you're also sitting there wondering what I'm trying to get at. I know that I digress... a lot, but I find these digressions entertaining little journeys through my mind. That and a life with no meandering would be very short and, at least in my view, boring. Think of them as literary "smell the flowers" moments.
This whole topic relates to a story from the 32 (not the 39. The 32 ventures further south and travels deep into the heart of darkness) coupled with my own musings on life in general. Let me begin with the 32. A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless since she objects to having any identifiers on the internet, boarded the 32 at Forrest Hills station. There was apparently a great deal of ruckus coming from up near the driver. Yelling could be heard throughout the bus. One would normally surmise that a passenger would be the origin of this outburst, but NO, it was the driver. The driver, for reasons unknown, was berating a passenger. While on his diatribe, his attentions were far from the road and his driving was becoming more and more reckless. Just as the passengers were begining their Hail Mary's and Our Father's, one lone woman, perhaps from Jamaica or Trinidad, stood up and began a speech so thoughtful that Obama should seriously consider adding her to his team. She addressed him as Mr. Driver and began to remind him of the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and children who were on this bus and only wanted to go home. It is Mr. Driver's responsibility to make sure that they get there safely. Mr. Driver realized what an ass he was being and apparently began driving in a non-we're all gonna die way.
Thankfully, Wise Island Woman was there, but it made me think of the times when we don't speak up and call people on behavior that negatively impacts us. I have to admit that I'm not good at pointing out bad behavior. I tend to walk away and just tell the offender to eff off (in my mind) if I say anything at all. While I should probably tell people to stop their shenanigans, I chicken out. I'm afraid to upset the peaceful balance, but the sad truth is, it doesn't exist. Ill-behaved people (I began to modify "shenanigans" by dropping the "ans" and adding "ers" then realized that I shouldn't do that.) have already upset my tranquility. Their behavior is negatively impacting me and causing me to alter my life. It's at this point that I have a problem. Should I say something? Will it resolve, or will the problem escalate? I don't know, but I've come to the realization that, in most cases (I say most since there are some situations where crazy is involved and one needs to slowly back away) I need to grow a pair and say something.
Wow, digress much? I guess the take home message in all of this is to realize that responsibility isn't just something that must be beat over our heads when trying to remain an adolescent or deny that we're someone's baby daddy (I feel weird using that term more than once). Responsibility is acting like a good person and not allowing others to let themselves be careless or even bad people. Maybe if we were more responsible, there would be a little less pain in the world. Maybe I wouldn't have to take my shoes off at the airport. Maybe we wouldn't have to lock all our doors and windows at night. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Something to listen to.
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