When
people wait for methods of public transportation
they stare in the direction from which the
train, or bus will come. It's as if they
believe that by staring they can will an
earlier arrival. Watched pots do boil and
watched for trains and buses do arrive.
Only the experience of time for the person
staring shifts around.
In
the morning I sit on a fire hydrant and
pretend I am not employing my own stare
voodoo. But if someone positions themselves
in front of me I get very cranky.
Yesterday
as the bus turned the corner for the final
block before the train station we were all
surprised by a tower of water shooting into
the sky right at the bus stop. Firemen and
police were fighting what seemed to be a
losing battle. The water splashed off the
roof of a Walgreens and poured onto their
heads. The intersection filled in an ever
increasing pool. The driver let us off across
the block. That was how the day began.
When
I work overtime we get out at 9:00. The
train comes at 9:53. I am saved from the
staring by books. But it is the longest
53 minutes of the day. The train is a local
so it takes almost twice as long as the
trains I take when I leave earlier. As I
walk to the bus stop from the train I try
to keep myself calm because if I miss a
bus another may not come for a half an hour.
I succumb to the need to stare at that point.
Begging with my gaze. Please. Please. Please.
Taxi cabs drive slowly past trying to tempt
me. The cost of a cab to my apartment is
close to what I make in an hour.
Sometimes
it takes five minutes for the bus to come.
Last night it took 25. It was one of the
smaller buses. At the stop after mine the
bus filled with people who had just been
at the baseball game. It was a sardine can.
Someone in the back hit someone else and
a screaming match began. It was some confusion
about who touched who. A young woman
inched forward to tell the driver that the
loudest of the two had a knife.
When
we got to Market street the bus stopped
and most of the people got out, which always
happens. The driver had called in about
the guy with the knife and we sat there
waiting for the police. In the time it took
them to get there we could have all been
stabbed many times. After the cops and the
driver talked we began our journey again
but in a few feet the driver stopped and
told us all we had to get off. I'm not sure
why.
I
walked toward the bus stop seeing nothing
like a bus but there were a few cabs and
this time I took the bait. I got home at
11:30. 2 and a half hours. Quite a commute.
I
didn't feel in danger during the whole guy
with a knife drama. I was just too tired.
The day ended as it began with a feeling
that things are just going wrong and we
who believe we can conjure a bus or a train
with the power of our eyes must accept that
there is not much we can control.
I
had to renew my domain last week. I almost didn't.
I
feel like I've been swallowed.
The
job is fine. Sometimes fun, sometimes frustrating. The
commute is miserable. If I don't work OT I can sometimes
get home in little more than an hour. If I work OT (
and I often do) it can take as much as three. Quite
a difference. A three hour commute is miserable.
I
kinda don't want to write about all the things that
have been difficult. Lots of stuff has been going on.
But. I keep landing in the same place. It just is what
it is.
It
might be good to find acceptance but it takes the wind
out of the need to express.
The
other night I was coming home late and I was thinking
I would take a cab. A cab costs about what I make in
an hour so it's not something I ought to do. But I was
just so tired. I'm tired a lot.
There's
a man who takes the same train I do when I work late
and waits for the same bus. Over the weeks we've begun
to talk. Usually we complain about the wait. He smells
like cigarettes and alcohol. He has no teeth.
That
night, as I was waiting for the train to stop I looked
up and saw him. We waved and smiled. I decided to take
the bus in some sort of solidarity with him.
I
got to the bus stop before he did. He came in a few
minutes with a big toothless smile. The night before
the bus had come early and he believed it would again.
We were like kids on Christmas. Sure enough the bus
came early.
For
all the badness lately there have been these unexpected
moments of sweetness.
I
may only have this job for three more months. It's hard
to say. I think I may have it longer but I'm not sure.
Glamour
comes out this week but I didn't work on it. Pets
comes out a few months after that. I have worked on
it and it's pretty sweet.
I
wish I wasn't so tired all the time. All the things
I could write slip out of my head by the time I get
to the computer.
I
wanted to write about how fat friendly EA is. There
are some good things and some bad. But there was this
one really fun moment. I was in the elevator with some
people including three pretty beefy guys all of whom
had Styrofoam clamshells from the cafeteria. The elevator
made a weird noise and they all kind of looked at each
other. One of them said, "Attention. Your elevator
is too fat." And then we all laughed. It may not
play well as a story but, I swear, it was funny.
Here's
the thing about not blogging. I think about bloggers.
I think about people I read the same way I think about
people I've met in other ways. I wonder how people are.
I know all I hafta do is click and read but ... it's
like I'm living in a constant push. And when the weekend
comes I crash.
So
I just don't know. I don't want to give up. And I don't
seem to have the ... something. Will. Juice. Creative
drive. Something.
The
only thing I know for sure is that things always change.