Again

When I am running late for work, the train dynamic is far different. Once again the train is filled with Indians heading in late. For some reason, no matter what the business, they like to show up at 9:00am or later. So much curry.

After a solid weekend and a good night sleep, I feel good and am giving zero fucks today. This is the point where I own Monday. 

Green

An older hippie looking guy is sitting in front of me with his long gray ponytail, black tshirt and tan linen cargo shorts. He looks like a normal guy if he wasn't sixty years old with a large white santa claus beard.

On his feet are Teva sandals with his old malshapen toes sticking out. What makes them unique are his sparkly bright green toenails. He has no visible piercings or tattoos, so this must be his way of being a rebel today.

Looking over his shoulder, he seems to be listening to NPR. 

Rote

This has been an autopilot kind of morning. From breakfast to shower to the train ride, I just consciously noticed where I am and what I am doing. I am so out of it.

Listening to a podcast now and watching some girl making a dragon toy out of green felt.  Next to her is an elderly Indian woman in a long yellow and green dress with gold accents. 

I noticed three things right away about this other lady: her large gold nose ring, the fact that she is very petite, and that she may be complete insane. She is having a conversation with the empty chair in front of her, randomly combing her hair vigorously, and has a goofy grin on her face. 

I need coffee.

Sammich

Today I realized that I very much hate the smell of mustard. A guy and his girlfriend are eating a bologna sandwich oozing with yellow funky spread.

Vomit-inducing...

And of course he chews with his mouth open like a neanderthal, so the schlorpy sound makes for a fantastic soundtrack.

Return

Two weeks working from home meant no traveling. Back at it now, and I had forgotten the smells. Can one be downwind inside a train? There is an older gentleman in full spandex who is an avid cyclist. I know this because his funk is wafting in this direction and my eyes are crossing.

Why do people not know how to wash their workout clothes?

Sparse

Working from home a lot since the train has been under construction for a few days. I came downtown this evening on it and there aren't many people. 

A few folks listening to headphones, one gal on her laptop doing homework, and a very pierced lady with great tattoos is sitting fring in front of me and looking at me from time to time.

She seems very nice, and I probably should smile or talk to her, but my "Resting Bitch Face" has become my comfort blanket.

May just play some card game for a while. I really don't have time to talk to new people. 

Dirt

Busy train, standing room only, and two available seats. I look at them and they seem fine. I look on the floor in front of them and see a smudge of brown matter. I won't lie: it looks like shit. But it is mud. Shit doesn't dry like that. People are too freaked out by stupid stuff. 

So I have a seat, which is good. Then an older professor-type got on and splatted into the seat next to me. His shirt should be illegal. Plaid, button-down, short-sleeve shirts with khakis are an old man's casual Friday costume. Oh my god! I see your forearms! You cad! Eek! Controversy!

Also: you want to piss 100 people off at once, have your klaxxon alarm go off on a quiet morning commute. 

Buzz

The overhead fan for air circulation is loudly vibrating. The pitch is at a frequency I can feel in my eyeballs.

Most people on the train are wearing blue. From the lady next to me in blue heels, a blue dress, blue jewelry, and blue prescription glasses, to the one across the way whose bright smurfy hair matches her backpack, there are a lot of people in blue today.

The guys standing next to me is wearing a work badge. He is pretty young and his name is Chandler. I guarantee his mom was a fan of the tv show Friends.

Mirror

I wonder if people really know what they look like. Cameras are woefully inaccurate. I know this because I have seen pictures of people I know and it doesn't capture them at all.  Mirrors in the bathroom are bad because they are flipped. We don't look like that. There is no good way to see yourself the way others see you, and that fills me with wonder.

This came after I caught my reflection in a reflection and didn't immediately recognize myself.

Happy

Pretty crowded train, but I got a seat next to a sweet old lady reading her bible.  We just sat there for a bit with me lost in some music.  Every now and then a soft bump on my arm, which I assume is her turning a page.  I hear her talking, so I turn down my music to see if she's speaking to me.

Nope!

She is talking to her book. Becoming exasperated by whatever she is reading, and crosses herself.  Each time she does the 'father, son and holy spirit' gesture, the last part is where her elbow nudges me.  She's very, very into it.  But she is also very, very old, so she can do what she wants at this point. 

Stillness

A breaking heart makes a sound. It's one that is quiet to everyone else, but the sound resonates loudly, echoing up from your chest into your head. It is at the same time piercing and rumbling. Others can see it in your eyes, and the gentle slope of the shoulders. To you it drowns out all other stimuli. The world looks, sounds, feels, and tastes gray.

I look around the train and realize that i am not the only person who has demons that walk with me, but for whatever reason we all sit in quiet pain; putting on a strong face for everyone. Some people just live and die one regret at a time. 

Skinny

Everyone on my end of the train is petite. I feel like a giant. Lots of room in the seat and nobody bumping into me.  Feels good. Too bad it's a red line and only gets me halfway home. 

Life being a series of average, the blue line that will swing by an pick me up I bet will be jam-packed. I bet you. 

Mondays and all that.

Screaming

The kids are screaming. Three of them. All very upset that they are up so early. They are on the outside what we all are on the inside. I don't know what age one has to be to go from acceptable screaming to crazy person. But we should bump the age from four to 70. 

Mondays usually are terrible, but I got good sleep, woke up energized, and feel pretty damn good. Hope nobody punches me for being positive today.

Woe

Headphones are at work, so I have to be aware of my surroundings today. Boo. And there are a few new good podcasts available today I wanted to hear.

The gal next to me is doing homework, and as she writes with her pen, her elbow slowly digs into my ribs, then releases to the next line. She is a human typewriter and just now realized it and apologized. 

Across from me is a hipster wearing skinny jeans, a caramel-colored disco-era jacket, and foppish blonde bangs hanging in his eyes. He seems to have a malfunctioning tablet of sorts. Every few moments he flips shut the case and thwaps it a few times with his palm. With my headphones I wouldn't notice, but in this case it is heartily annoying. I may offer to fix it for him permanently.

Shorts

It is warm outside. About 85, and pretty dry. There are more jackets than shorts on this train. Then again, everyone here probably got up early when it was chilly.

The girl standing next to me has booty shorts on that leave nothing to the imagination. She did not wake up early today. But you know what? That is just fine. I see nothing wrong at all.