Thursday, October 11

Strangers staring

I was riding home on the subway today and doing my typical people-watching. The guy across the aisle from me caught my attention several times because he was an older teen and had that trendy cut that's basically ripped from British 70s pop stars. In an effort to call attention to this, or perhaps to shake the flies from his dirty locks, he kept swinging his head around like a dog shaking off water. Not only was I watching because that's what I do, but also because, well, he was moving a lot and he looked an awful lot like pictures of my older brother from the 70s.

A few minutes after my attention had focused elsewhere, I noticed a low grumbling that sounded distinctly like meanness. Meanness you know has a sound; it's that low tone with an evil level of volume meant to infiltrate your ears to the point where you hear it but you're not sure you heard it correctly. And the meanness was coming from Dog-Boy. At this point I was growing tired and had my eyes closed, but these are trashy tidbits I heard:

"... What the f@#k are you looking at? If you were ... "
" ... some people just have problems ... staring ... bitch!"
"Open your eyes, go on, so you can see the disrespect in my eyes ..."

Ahhh. Nice, right? I did nothing, just kept my eyes shut. I suppose this was a way out, but I was also thinking: What makes him so mad that someone was looking at him? Why is he so defensive? This must be that self-esteem issue everyone likes to use as a psychological answer. And, more importantly, didn't I use to feel like that when I caught someone looking at me? Don't I still feel that way sometimes?

Why do we feel like that when someone is watching us? What harm is there really if someone is watching us? I know that answer really depends on how you interpret the person watching, but then why should that matter?

So this Dog-Haired Boy made me think, and he also made me a little, well, defensive. I have every right to look. Especially when you're sitting directly across from me. I wasn't staring. I was watching. And, of course, I came up with comebacks to all of the little side comments he made. Which also made me angry. Why side comments? Why not just say it? And, again, but I do that sometimes too. Why do we do that?

It seems to me that it's all about fear.

Tuesday, October 9

Autumn dawdling

Three-day weekend every weekend? I wish!

I didn't get as much done as I had hoped. We saw the Honk Fest at Davis Square (a street band extravaganza) and afterwards had cupcakes at a new bakery, Kickass Cupcakes. I'm glad they offered one vegan variety, but it wasn't as good as the $3 it cost. Recipes from Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World are much more yummy.

Took the dogs out for a long walk in Menotomy Park, a decent-sized wooded area that supposedly has a lake, although we didn't find that. It's gorgeous out, crispy fall weather that makes me crave potato soup, warm casseroles, hot apple cider, and toasty mittens.

The leaves haven't changed much yet; it's too dry. We're behind almost 4 inches in rain, including the showers we got yesterday. Not to mention the fact that's been like summer weather around here. The trees must be wondering. Or perhaps they knew well before we caught on ...

Another nice thing about having a three-day holiday weekend? A subsequent four-day work week!

Saturday, October 6

Flash, boom, woo

I haven't fully adjusted to the new apartment or my new commute, but I could definitely get used to three-day weekends. It makes me feel more relaxed just knowing that I have an extra day to look forward to.

Hubby worked a Steve Vai concert this week ... apparently his fans are quite rude. One of hubby's coworkers asked an audience member on the balcony to stop taking pictures, and the man said "OK, thanks," and put his camera right in the employee's face, taking a flash picture. Of course this blinded the coworker and he had to stumble around to find his way to safety. What a jerk. It sickens me the way some people treat others. Really, I feel ill.

Took two extra hours to get home on Friday ... there was an explosion on the Red Line (no one was hurt), so I had to take a bus to another subway to get to the commuter train, to walk to another bus, and then take that to another bus, and then walk home. Whew. Of course I chose that day to take home an armful of paperwork and files.

Monday, October 1

End result

I am so sore that it hurt to press the elevator button this morning. Typing isn't much better, so: you mean I have to unpack now?, new commute, dogs are confused, cat is exploring, can't believe I moved in without seeing it first, not much of an impression yet since we didn't finish until after midnight.

Oh yeah, that reminds me: I absolutely hate U-Haul.