(And you can be sure this song will stick to your brain cells like a piece of chewed up gum on hot asphalt!)
Now that we’ve moved to the new and improved apartment the distance to my work place has gone from 100 meters to 2 miles, give or take. Which means I must partake in the joy of commuting. At the beginning I was not happy about this downgrade AT ALL. [I know some of you have to commute for hours, so my meagre fifteen minutes or less doesn’t even reach the ankle of your commuting time, but hey, this is why I created this blog. To complain about shit egotistically, in ample posts that go nowhere. Anyway, back to me.] I mean who goes nuts about buses running late, having to renew your pass on the first of every month, or having to smell the BO of fellow commuters at rush hour?
But you know what? I’ve realized it’s not at all that bad. Ok, I always have to make sure I leave the house in time to catch the bus, I have to check the bus schedule online – I know I’ll memorize it eventually, just give me time – and I just have to deal with the fact that buses are sometimes late! But guys, those fifteen minutes when I’m on the bus, it’s just Switching-Off Time, or Think-About-The-Bigger-Picture Time, or Reflection Time, or just plain Reading Time. Do you know how many books I’ve read in one month of riding the bus? Four! I.e. a book a week. And that just makes me happy and proud!
You know what else I like to do while I’m on the bus? People-watch. And eaves-drop on their conversations… and sometimes imagine the story behind those conversations. Since the bus I’m taking is not at all crowded I’ve come to know my fellow commuters. There’s a Dad and his ridiculously cute little boy with an even cuter French accent; there’s this hipster girl that braids her hair in the most awesome style I’ve ever seen; the sixty(ish)-year old Grandma who sometimes takes her Grandson to the park is always so elegant and so patient when answering the silly questions she’s being asked; the weird lady I see every once in a while is so committed to making small talk to the driver that she’s driving me bonkers – I sometimes wish the driver would just tell her to can it or get off the bus.
So yeah, there you go, another aspect of my day to day existence which I gratuitously shared with the world whether the world liked it or not. All this to say that I feel like I’ve grown a little bit (fine, minus the passive-aggressive attitude towards the chatterbox lady) and that somehow, in a bizarre way, taking the bus to work seems to be contributing to building my character.
How about you? Do you commute to work? Do you like it?