The other day I was on the bus (wow another entry about a bus, I must be like bus crazy or something, I would go with something) and decided to watch the people in cars from my window seat. The people driving by were bored. So bored. It was almost depressing, in a refreshing way.
For some reason this guy with his 'hands free' headset sticks in my mind. It was one of those clip-on the ear deals, with the star trek microphone to the face. He was traveling with someone else in his car, yet still had the appendage attached. This is hardcore, folks.
Imagine being in the car. Being the passenger, as the driver talks to no one. The first call you would most likely be confused. Is he speaking to me? My name isn't Scotty... How do I 'beam' you up? I ain't doing that, if that is what you mean...
// What's the most drastic change you've ever made to your appearance?
Smiling.
I find it curious that once I place my headphones over my ears and push the play button that the music narrows my vision until it is focused within. The real world is shut out as my thought flutters from snippet to snippet of consciousness. In between lies the what ifs and hows, sometimes the wheres or whens.
It must be from some stem of repetition of emotion that this habit bloomed. I am surprised when hindsight shows that some of my habits can be traced back to one instance where an event had such a strong emotional impact on me that I change my mindset when in similar situations to avoid it happening again. A case in point would be the bus. To be more specific, getting off the bus.
A rational person would perhaps move at a normal pace to exit the bus with no stress or great concern. I rush at the door like a mo fo. If you are in my way, I will bowl you over. This behaviour can be attributed to this one time on a bus I was on. It was a wet day so the bus was packed with bodies. Sitting, standing, in constant motion, there was no space, all clutter. The driver could not see the back door of the bus well. I was to exit from the back door. I was at the very back of the bus. The mass between me and the door was impressive but I shouldered on. The door in sight, I lunged only to be greeted with a shoosh. The bus driver had no way of telling when everyone was off the bus that wanted to get off, so he chose an arbitrary time and closed the door once it was up. I cleared my throat and exclaimed 'excuse me' a few times until finally the door opened and I got off.
I am not sure why this had such an impact on me. I may have felt slightly embarrassed for being rejected from leaving the bus or afraid people think of me as slow. 'Ugh, there is that guy again who just can't figure out where the door is, what a chump.'
I was walking home and had just finished crossing a road. I found myself approaching an old concrete bus stop, the type of stop that has character. The old timer, who has a million stories to tell and knows all the tricks to keeping you sheltered, unlike these new fangled fancy bus stops of glass created for the sole purpose to look cool and display ads. Beyond this shelter I spied an old lady who looked ghastly pale with dark, black pineapple rings around her eyes. It was at this moment of summation that I felt pity for someone who appeared so ill. As I finally passed this panda bear grandmother I noticed, to my astonishment, that her eyes were full of trickery and covered with glasses. The pity melted away in no time and once again I was left with the lingering thought of nothing.
Today I saw and heard a musical instrument I can only describe as a hip-hop box. It must become my hip-hop box.
The guy said it is full of springs and stuff, but I know better. It is full of wonderment.
When I heard it played I was stunned. As a friend of mine once said 'This is the face of flabbergastation.'
