The Dullet

Not sure if the word exists yet, but this girl has a terrible hair cut. It's actually so bad it is making me angry.

It is bleach-blonde and black like a zebra, which is fine, but it is a mullet. And not just any mullet, but the front half is normal hair, and the rear is dreadlocks. Yes a dullet. Does she not have anyone who loves her who could convince her what a bad idea it was to do this?

And she is in a pantsuit a la Hillary Clinton. I'm so confused.

I'll do it.

Bunch of guys standing up on the train. One seat available: next to a gorgeous woman. Nobody sits. Too intimidated?  Are they only going one stop? No idea. I just shrug and sit down.

Getting mean stares from them now as though I siezed their opportunity. My message to them is: grow a set next time.

Squish

Americans are overweight. The seats on the train remind me of gradeschool desks without the desktop attached. So even people of proportional weight are hanging out on both sides.

Put five of them together, and you are on a very smashed bench of people.

Today starts my new training at work on the new product, and my stomach feels weird.

That old factory.

There is something about the yeasty dough and cold meat smell of a pizza shop that bring me back years when I worked at one, but more importantly spending time at them as a kid. It's amazing the flood of birthday parties and late night pizza and video games.

Childhood is so fast. I wish someone would have grabbed me by the ears and told me to enjoy it while is lasts. Then again, if I knew it was temporary, I may not have enjoyed it as much; anxious about the approaching end.

It's the endlessness that made it magic. Summers lasted a lifetime and I was convinced I would never be a grown-up.

Dammit.

Fair-weather Wallace

So the latter half of the summer, there was this younger round-faced guy with big hockeystick sideburns who waited at a bus stop at the end of the block.

Usually he is in a kilt. Today, however, he is in cargo pants. Now its true that his kilt could be at the cleaners, but today is also twenty degrees cooler than its been in months.

Sitting next to me is a girl missing the lower half of her right arm. She is reading a book turning pages with her elbow. She has to lean forward to turn the page, so every few moments she looks as though she is really into the story.

Perception

I saw a blind man running full speed down the sidewalk running to catch his bus; his red and white stick clacking on the sidewalk uselessly.

I wondered how he knew he was running late.

It feels odd that my backpack that has served me all of my college life now carries a laptop and a lunch pail for work. I know it misses the books and folders and scantrons it used to cart all over.

To that end, I find it interesting that I now work for the company that owns ScanTrons, when I spent $40k worth college using them for tests.

99%

It's a literate bunch here on the train this morning.  Books, Kindles, magazines, a newspaper (quaint), and one gal reading a knitting book trying to figure out a pattern. Good times are being had, and I am the shlub using my phone instead.

I am going to Powells after work today. I had to go anyways, but somewhat amusing considering this cosmic reminder disguised as a sea of readers.

Friday

Thank Pope Gregory XIII it's Friday. I am not sure what tonight holds, but today was busy all day at work, and the train is not too packed at all.

Actually got the fun look at the next train of people seats.

I'm in a weird mood.

Remember me.

I felt an odd thing this morning as I sit on this train with a group of familiar strangers: connection. I am starting to recognize them as my shared daily riders, and kind of want to introduce myself to them.

Not out of community or social convention, but the selfish act of someone missing me if I stopped showing up one day. Is it such a bad thing to want to be memorable?

The girl in front of me has rainbow wristbands and is clutching a stuffed pink unicorn. Her pink Chuck Taylor shoes have the word PIMP written in Sharpie on the toe.

And the police just came down the train with a drug dog.  It's Friday morning I guess. Obey, citizen.

Your precious bag.

You may hate my bluntness, Mr. "My Bag Needs a Seat," guy, but in all honesty when you have a train full of people, you put your damn bag on the floor in front of you (or in your lap).

You harumphed when I asked you to move it for the older lady standing up, but to hell with you. I overlook the fact that you are probably nineteen years old and don't have a single clue what life is about yet. Pull out your earbuds, push that foppish hair-don't out of your face and either stand up and offer your seat, or move your damn bag.

My words, "Hey. Move your backpack man," were the nicest I could come up with.  You'll get over it eventually. Trust me.

All that.

Dear girl on the train,

If you are a lithe 5’11” (mostly leg), red-haired, and you decide to wear a pinstripe pencil skirt, spaghetti-strap tank top, and heels, please do not get all upset at people looking at you. I’d never seen so many dirty looks returned to several people in my life. I mean it’s called “attractive” for a reason, and if you dress in such a way, be prepared to just deal with attention you get.  Yes it makes you feel pretty and beautiful, but that’s because you are.

Or at least were until that attitude clouded your outward appearance.  Next time wear a garbage bag to match that sparkling personality of yours.

(Or simply smile back.)

Regards,

Your fellow red-blooded male passengers.

Eyeballs

Sitting on the rows of mid-facing seats on the train, I was looking down at my phone jotting down some notes to type up later, and glanced up at a girl sitting with her mother.  She looked over at me and my only reaction was to look down quickly at my phone (ooh the pretty buttons. After all, she was quite pretty.

A few moments later, I chanced a glance back up with just my eyes not moving my head and just then she turned and looked over at me. CAUGHT!  I looked down again. Paused a moment, and looked back up. She's was still looking. Well the jig was up... I just looked back at her for what felt like a long time. I saw the corner of her mouth lift into a half smirk, and I mirrored it.

Then looked down again. She won THIS round of staring-contest.  I didn't look up again until she got off the stop before mine.  Talk about a long ride.

Damn technology

The android blogger app ate my post. But it wasn't that long. Just odd that I caught such an early train today, yet it was still fairly busy. I brought my backpack with me because I wanted to bring a few things to my office today (some photos, and stuff), and it wasn't too long of me sitting down when someone leaned over and asked me what classes I'm taking this term.

For a brief moment I smiled, flattered then quickly became sad. I do miss looking forward to the learning, and the doing, and the interacting. It occurred to me that I was pausing too long before answering and said, "Oh sorry, I'm not a student anymore, this is just some stuff I'm taking to work with me."

"Oh," he said turning back to his Kindle, deeply uninterested in what I did for work.

Mortality

While passing under the Vista Bridge known as, "Suicide Bridge," I overheard someone tell someone they were traveling with exactly that name of it, and was struck how commonly accepted a name it is.

Photo by Jesse Raley

Makes me wonder how many lives were lost to earn that name, or if it is the creation of collective wishful thinking.

Summer is over.

Today people are back to school and work. Bleary-eyed and awkwardly holding their backpacks, many students are aboard at this fine early hour.

I give it a week and some of this newness will be replaced with open books reading that mornings homework, and the calm regularity of life in full swing.

Side note: if you spent $50 on a hair cut that causes you to jerk your neck every 15 seconds to get the swath of hair out of your eyes, you paid too much.