citizen of the planet

Usually, when I’m on the subway I have my earphones planted well into my ears in an attempt to block out most of the outside world.  I also close my eyes so that I won’t have to play eye-tag with anyone around me.  It’s what I do.  I usually manage to maintain a bit of a sense of calm as a result.  Today, someone was testing my patience.

At one of the stops, this hygienically challenged guy came in and sat in the seat perpendicular to mine.  His knees nudged me in a rather rough manner, kind of rousing me from my relatively serene state.  I opened my eyes a bit, but shut them back thinking nothing of what happened.  Oh, but I could get back to my peaceful place because this same guy was reading a newspaper and frequently rested the paper on my leg.  He would sometimes shake his newspaper hitting me in the elbow a few times.  His knee would bob up and down hitting mine, again, causing me to be startled and open my eyes.
I kept my eyes closed, but I was becoming frustrated.  My brow was scrunched up in anger, however, I said nothing.  I told myself, “if this continues, ask him to stop in a polite manner.”  The thing is, I was pushed far enough over the edge to make me speak up.  This was a ridiculous situation.  I mean, if I was a New Yorker, I’d imagine I would’ve told him off long ago, you know? I would have changed seats, but the train was pretty much full.  I wasn’t about to give up my seat to that jackass’s knee–it was a matter of principle.
At one point, I formulated a plan.  I decided I was going to give this guy a horrible look.  I know my eyes are very expressive and often carry strong emotions.  I vowed to give him the worst stink-eye that I could muster up.  When he shook his newspaper next, I opened my eyes and give him the look of death.  The guy seemed to be in his mid-to-late teens.  He was engrossed in his newspaper while listening to his iPod.  It imagined my gaze was a viking sword, slicing through his body right down to his core where he’d surely feel me.  His reaction?  Nothing: he was much too absorbed in his music to notice.  I was frustrated. I was sort of looking around, and I think other passengers around me noticed my evil eye.  I ended up just closing my eyes again and put up with the idiocy.

By the time we got to one of the major interchange stations, the person sitting next to him had to get out.  He turned to let her out.  As she headed for the door, he called out to her because she had dropped her gloves.  I almost left my mouth agape.  When he spoke, he spoke slow and with a slight speech impediment.  Jesus.  Did I just act stupidly towards someone with a disability?  Was he slow?  Did he even know what was going on?  Well, instead of pondering the imponderables, I just got up out o fmy seat and waited by the exit: my stop was coming up anyway.

Doesn’t it seem like I’ve been attracting weird people as of late?  I know I’m an oddball myself…but…I almost feel like I’m being tested on some large scale in the grand scheme of things.  I kind of feel like I’m currently failing my tests.

Remedial course, anyone?

This morning, I had an appointment with a specialist. I have this (benign) nodule in my wrist, so I’m looking to get it excised. The offices of plastic surgeons have a decidedly more luxurious feel to them. There were pieces of art all over the place. The smell of the office also had much less of a “hospital” smell to it.

Anyway, as I was sitting in the waiting room, there was a mother and her newborn child sitting on the opposite side absorbed with each other. The boy was cooing, and the mother was responding with burbling baby talk. It was all too cute, but I looked elsewhere to avoid staring. Soon, the baby started fussing a great deal. The mother responded with an “OK! OK!” She turned her back towards me, seemed to adjust her shirt, and then…silence. Silence, except for small vocal grunts from the baby. Apparently, the mother just whipped her breast out and started feeding right there.

I kind of didn’t know what to do. I wanted to see what was going on–not (just) because of exposed tits, but because the idea of breastfeeding is…kind of novel, know what I mean? In any case, out of politeness, I averted my eyes. I kind of had to–the mother kept peering over her shoulder in my direction with quick darts. Soon, her name was called. She tucked her breast away and went in to meet the doctor.

Hmm. I can’t comment on breast feeding in public. I mean, is there some sort of etiquette when it happens around you (other than: don’t stare)? I guess you have to give the hungry baby priority, yeah?

I think I may be coming down with something.

I was on the treadmill earlier this evening, and a few minutes in I got hit with a sudden case of vertigo. I felt off-balance and had an urge to lean over to get equilibrium–which isn’t wise when you’re on a moving conveyor belt. I tried to stay on for a another few minutes but my head state wasn’t improving so I got off.

Earlier this morning, I was complaining to my mother about how the house was really cold. She said the house felt fine, and that I was probably becoming sick. I didn’t believe her, but…she’s was probably right.

I think I just need to spend some time under a heavy blanket to sweat it out; I’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.

Close to the end of week 6, and I think I’ve finally hit what seems to be that dreaded plateau that all of those fitness sites keep talking about. I’ve been doing my usual routine, and it’s not getting me any progress. I’ve been at a consistent weight for the last 5 days, which is strange. I suppose it’s still too early to tell if it’s really a plateau, but I should wait for a period of two weeks without change before doing something about it, right?

So, that can only mean I’m overdue for switching up my routine. My body’s gotten way too comfortable doing the same thing. I should definitely reintroduce weights into the mix.

Beyond this, I can’t let this plateauing get me down. This weight loss thing has become a mini-obsession for me. While it’s good that it’s drawing my focus, I’m starting to think it’s a bit much. I was clued into this fact the other day. I was on the treadmill for 30 minutes at which point I stopped because I was feeling like crap. As soon as I got off, I started thinking, “Man! What the hell was that? I can’t believe you got off!” I started to get angry at myself because I knew that I could go longer if I pushed myself. It was only minutes later when I finally put things into perspective. “Why are you being so hard on yourself? You did 30 minutes! That’s not worthless, you know?” Seriously.

What kind of fucked up state of mind is it when you’re berating yourself when you’ve only exercised for a half hour?

I just wanted to get that off my chest.

[4:47:32 PM] jenelle: SO MSFT CHARGED ME $1.15 FOR CHEESE TODAY
[4:47:36 PM] jenelle: I WAS RIGHT PISSED OFF
[4:47:38 PM] car parts, bottles, and cutlery: 1.15?
[4:47:41 PM] car parts, bottles, and cutlery: that’s disgusting
[4:47:53 PM] car parts, bottles, and cutlery: that better be like a fucking gold plated cow
[4:48:19 PM] car parts, bottles, and cutlery: the israelites pre 10-commandments better be dancing round it
[4:48:26 PM] jenelle: ROFL BLOODY L

This morning on the streetcar, I sat down by the back doors, quietly absorbed in my music. Piercing through the angst and strain of Alanis were long groans and moans coming from what sounded like an old man about midway in the car. The middle aisle was already full of people, so I couldn’t see the source of the noise. It didn’t seem like anyone was acting with a sense of urgency, so I thought nothing of it.

As people got off, it seemed a bubble was forming around someone on the other side of the car. People were avoiding this guy that seemed like a hippie. He had long greying hair, and had this braided hair tie thing going around his forehead. He had various things hanging from his pants. The item among them that drew my attention the most was a bell that rang as he walked. He was hygienically challenged and smelled quite ripe; it’s no wonder that people formed a “perimeter” around him.

He stood up from his seat and proceeded to continue retching and moaning. The sound was halfway between being arthritic and orgasmic: say, ‘arthrasmic’, or perhaps, ‘orgasritic.’ As he neared his stop, he moved towards the rear doors, with his bell gently clanging with every step. The smell caused me to hold my breath. Unfortunately, the car caught a red light and had to stop before the destination. The hippie wretched and moaned.

Eventually he got off, allowing me to exhale and generate a big sigh of relief.

All of that made me smile this morning.

This past weekend, Sharon was keen to disagree and inform me that I was, contrary to what I may believe, far from being invisible in high school.  My logical self would agree, but my emotional self tells me otherwise.

I need to ease up on myself.

A little while ago, I chatted a little bit with Sharon about general stuff. At some point she mentioned that she’d met with someone named Veronica from our year in high school. She said that Veronica remembered me, and said hello. To my (minor) embarrassment, I had no recollection at all of who this Veronica person was. Sorry!

I don’t know. It seems to be something that happens often with mentions of people from high school. Have I driven out the memories? Was it just that I really didn’t spend much time getting to know people? I guess it’s easier for people to remember me, being that I was “up there” in the realm of academics.

No, I’m not bragging–just saying, is all. Besides, look where those academics have gotten me. Psht.

Anyway, back to the story. For a few days I was trying to scan my memory to figure out just who this person was. The urge faded as the week passed. Which brings me to this morning. I’m in the process of doing laundry and generally tidying things up in my room. As I looked around, I spotted some of my old high school yearbooks. I ventured over and picked one up with the intention of solving the mystery. As I flipped through the pages, I saw things that gave me pause for reflection. The books were full of greetings from people that were in an out of my life during that period. It’s…kind of mind-numbing. I mean, some of the messages are people who I haven’t seen in ages talking about high school in the present tense. In my mind, my memories of them are frozen in that time period. It makes me a bit curious as to what they’re up to, but…just in passing–if only because that book pulled the trigger, know what I mean?

Also in among the messages are well-wishes from some people with whom I’ve known beyond high school, but are now on non-speaking terms with. Hahah. There’s a lot of irony in those messages and all at once it makes me laugh and feel worn-out.

I see my pictures from high school, and I feel contempt. Who is that poor fool staring back at me? What was wrong with you back then? Why were you the way you were? Did you think things would get better? They kind of did. Sort of. My grad photo message involved me talking about yak-cheese being used as an insulating material. How strange! Par for the course, back then, really.

Do I hate what I was? I kind of do. I mean, keeping stable nowadays has been an uphill battle, a lot of which stems from events in that formative period. I should be over it, but, can I really be rid of it? Not for a while, anyway.

Some people still dwell on the past and revisit it all too often. I don’t want to at all. I’d like to think that I’m all about there here and now. However, I do find myself sort of tied to the past. I kind of think that most people who are stuck on the past are focused on people, stuff and events.  In my case, it’s about the emotions and mental states, which is perhaps a hell of a lot less healthy. If my sense of self is based on this unstable foundation, maybe that’s why I’m still uneasy about life.

For now, I still have myself. I have my career, my friends, and things will be all right. I don’t want to focus on the past.

In the end, I did find out who Veronica was.

I don’t think I ever spoke a word to her.