A Bit of Fresh Air

So, it's the beginning of Reading Week at the universities in Waterloo, and the students are running amok causing havoc, and wearing practically nothing (as usual). It actually boggles my mind how these girls can wear mini skirts and high heeled sandals in the middle of February. Seriously, people, what the heck. They don't even wear coats! Oh, the vanity! Sometimes I feel like it is a prerequisite of attending university to look like a prostitute. Only sometimes though. Slut-cicles. It really is about minus 15 degrees outside.

Anyways, this is going to be a short post, because I sliced my finger open cutting up an onion today, and typing is proving to be a bit painful.

So, I was sitting at the bus stop watching girls in tiny clothing rush past, when a big burly black guy carrying a box from Campus Pizza entered my bus shelter. A few minutes later, a second guy, kinda scrawny, but not too bad-looking came in as well. He was carrying a Pizza Nova box. After a few seconds, the first guy says, "So you prefer Pizza Nova to Campus Pizza?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm not gonna lie, it's delicious. Crispy crust and all, yo. And I'm not gonna lie, I went there because it's closer. But Pizza Nova is definitely better," says the second guy. He didn't sound very articulate to me. Kind of like your average partying student. The first guy admitted that he'd never been to Pizza Nova. Anyways, the point is, the impression I was getting was that this was the first time these guys have ever met, and they were having a good old conversation about pizza joints. The second guy then started complaining about how he got kicked out of residence just now because his don thought that he was drinking outside the res. They talked about that for a good five minutes, then proceeded to talk about what universities they went to and what programs they were taking. The second guy said he was in psychology because he wanted to be a psychologist. The first guy thought that was very interesting.

"That's really great. I was seeing a psychologist a few months back, cause I was sick for a good three months, you know?" says the first guy. The second guy asked him about his sickness, and the first guy told him that he had some issues going on like bipolar and stuff. I thought that was very open of him. It surprised me a little, really.

The rest of their conversation was surprisingly intelligent and open. They just seemed to get along really well, even though they had only just met. It was really refreshing and encouraging to see.

Then I got on the VERY crowded bus full of drunk and yelling students on their way to "start" the Reading Week celebrations.

Standing Up

After work tonight, I was sitting at the bus stop, and I was suddenly bombarded with the familiar sounds of drunk university students. You know what I mean. So, my mind began to go into ignore-mode because most of the words they were saying weren't real words. I am so tired of the word "fuck". I wish that I never had to hear it again. Seriously.

Anyways, I started to block them out when I heard one of the guys ask, "Why don't you like Derek again? OH YEAH, HE'S GAY!" Then after one of the girls feebly denied it he said, "I hate gay people too. Just say it, it feels better when you say it." That's when I began listening.

Shortly after this, I heard a different guy say, "Gay guys are just ordinary guys." I was pleasantly surprised by this display of tolerance in front of his obviously bigoted comrades. The others ignored him and continued to bash gay people and this "Derek" character.

"Why are you guys hating on Derek? He's a nice guy! He seems to be a nice guy..." said the tolerant one before being interrupted by "BECAUSE HE'S A FAGGOT!" I had some serious problems with these people. I didn't want to listen anymore, but unfortunately, they were three feet away from me and being very loud. It actually makes me really uncomfortable when I listen to people being so crass and rude and prejudice. I just sometimes feel like I should go over to them and give them a good talking-to (or a good punch to the cranium).

Shortly after, they descended into yelling and laughing and pushing and swearing. I shut them out for a bit before I heard the nice guy seemingly still defending poor Derek.

"He's too shy to say sorry. That's just Derek. He probably really really wants to say sorry, but he's too shy." I smiled. This was a real, genuinely nice guy who unfortunately got stuck in a crowd full of dumb bigots. I felt like going over and saying to him, "You're nice. I like you. Why are you hanging out with these idiots? Let's be friends," but I didn't.

I didn't hear the reply because I was thinking about how nice that guy seemed to be. Not long after though, I heard them talking about how many times a day they use the washroom, so I went back to being in my own head.

It really surprises me sometimes to think of how intolerance is still very common, even among kids and teenagers. I know that these ideals are most likely taught to them by parents or role-models or whatever, but still. You would think that given all the terrible things that have been done in the name of intolerance, people wouldn't want to be grouped with that kind of attitude.

Personally, I think that for some people, it is an anthropological response that is ingrained into they're genetic makeup. It is a primordial survival thing. Those who are different may be dangerous, and so alienating them is the safest thing to do. This is also the case for people with insecurities, or who are going through identity crises. I am positive that some people bash homosexuals because they themselves might be having certain feelings that would not be acceptable in their social group or clique.

Anyways, I could go on for years talking about that, so I think I'm done for now.

A Man with a Plan

There once was a very large man,

who came up with a very good plan.

When I see her today,

I'll have Listerine spray.

'Cause in previous meetings, she ran.

So, the man, he made sure he was ready,

when he saw her, his hands they were steady.

For a moist towelette,

we are willing to bet,

was what he'd been using already.

**Notes: I was watching a very nervous-looking man on the bus who sprayed his mouth with Listerine spray about twenty times. Then, when he was finished, he fished around in his breast pocket, pulled out a moist towelette, and rubbed his hands with it for about ten minutes. I thought it was very poetic.

Thoughts on Intelligence

Tonight, as usual, I was sitting on the bus coming from Wilfred Laurier University where my boyfriend lives in residence. I wasn't really eavesdropping, but a few words from a conversation between two female university students caught my attention. I mean, they were talking unnecessarily loudly, so it was kind of hard not to hear them. Anyways.

Something that will always confuse me infinitely is the way some girls (and guys) talk to each other, especially university students. Obviously, they are rather intelligent beings, otherwise they wouldn't be in university, therefore they wouldn't be sitting next to me on the bus coming from the university. However, in complete contrast to this fact, some of these students always seem to dumb themselves down when interacting with each other.

This is what I am talking about:

The two girls were talking about where they were actually going as they sat in the bus. One of the girls mentioned the street name, and the other said, "How do you know these random street names? I can never remember them." The first girl replied, "Well, I took the bus for over a year, and you get so bored if you don't have music, you start to read the street signs." My first thought was, So this is why no one looks at their surroundings. They've got an iPod stuck to they're head. My second thought was, Wow, did you ever sound dumb just then.

As I was thinking this over in my head, the street sign-reading girl said something else that made me think, oh, brother and I hope you don't find me to be too judgmental for it. The girls had now moved on to scars that they had acquired over their extended period of existence. The sign-reading girl said something along the lines of, "Well, I don't bruise very easily because when I was little, I fought with my sister a lot and I got picked on in school, so my body just got used to it. That's why I don't really bruise. But I do have this one scar..." and that's where I stopped listening to marvel. The astonishing thing (one of many) is , I could pick up a note of conscious dumbing-down while she was speaking. Which just made me feel sort of sad for her.

It confounds me to think that the acknowledgement of all that hard work that these people put into being accepted into university is simply shoved aside when they are talking with their peers. Something that makes even less sense to me is that they all go to university. So why in the world would you pretend that you're stupid? Unless you truly are, of course. Then, by all means, ignore this post.

Two Brothers

A few days ago, I felt the need to travel on the bus for whatever reason. I can't remember exactly where I was going, but I do remember what happened while I was sitting at the bus stop.

I had gotten to the stop about a half an hour early because I mixed up the days, and the schedule wasn't what I thought it had been. It wasn't so bad, since it was a pretty beautiful day out. So, I sat in the bus shelter all by myself, which was nice. I hate it when you're in the bus shelter with someone else, and you feel like you have to share the space with them. You most certainly can't sit in the middle seat on the bench.

Anyway, I was sitting, just looking around, when I noticed that a lady was shoveling her driveway directly across the street from where I was sitting. She was holding her shovel at the very end of the handle and kind of pushing it back and forth across the width of her driveway. It wasn't really doing much, but she seemed content, so I wasn't complaining.

As she was just finishing her "shoveling", a very tall man with dark hair (we'll call him Dog Man) crossed the street towards the house beside her, walking a very small, fluffy white dog. It was kind of funny to see. Dog Man waved to Shoveling Woman, then went inside the house. A few minutes later, Shoveling Woman finished (sorta) and went inside. Not two minutes later, a taxi pulled up to Dog Man's house and another very tall man with dark hair (we'll call him Taxi Man) came out and knocked on the door. The garage opened, and Taxi Man went around to meet Dog Man in the garage. They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before vigorously shaking hands, then kissing each other three times on the cheeks. Right, left, right.

Keep in mind that I'm watching all of this happen from across the street where I can't hear a word of what they're saying. I'm judging though, by the greeting and the dark hair, that the two men are from some country in Europe like Romania or something (I'm not up on my European greetings geographically). They seem to be brothers or cousins. Related somehow anyways. Maybe brothers-in-law.

Anyway, a few minutes after they had both gone inside, Dog Man came out and started shoveling his driveway, starting from the bottom. He was doing it so meticulously, I though that it would take him a century to finish it. Finally, after a few painful minutes of watching Dog Man shovel, Taxi Man came out with another shovel. Obviously, he noticed that it would take approximately a hundred years before he got to visit with his relative, so he decided to help speed things along. Taxi Man started from the top, and was doing not nearly as good a job as Dog Man, but was taking considerably less time to do it.

Dog Man noticed the shotty job that Taxi Man was doing, so he snuck up behind him and started shoveling what was left behind. I saw some hand gesturing and heard some mumbling that might have been instructions on how to properly shovel a driveway, but I'm not sure.

Anyways, after a few more minutes of shoveling, Dog Man said something to Taxi Man. Then I saw him go into the garage, put away his shovel, and leave poor Taxi Man to shovel the rest of the driveway. Thanks, bro.

I am a poor boy too...

One night, a few weeks ago, I was sitting on the bus. It was a dark and stormy night. Not really that stormy, but it was snowing. And I suppose it was dark. Anyway, I was looking around, and I noticed a boy, maybe a couple years younger than me, sitting across the aisle. He was the kind that you'd expect to be a tough guy with a problem with authority and parents. Smoking and buying his midget girlfriend a diamond necklace for their three-day anniversary. With the money he made from selling drugs. Anyway, enough with the generalizing and judging and stuff. I noticed that he looked positively miserable.

He was sitting, leaning against the padded...thing. You know, the one at the front that if people are suddenly lurched across the bus because of atrocious driving, they just sort of bounce off. He was so slouched over, he literally looked like he had, at some point in his life, broken his back. Mr. Hunchback seemed to be trying to get a hold of someone on his shiny cell phone. After about 25 tries, he gave up and slouched over even more, hiding his face.

I was so concerned about him, I seriously considered standing up, walking over, and sitting beside him to tell him that everything will be okay. I really wanted to just give him a hug. I kind of tried to get him to look at me, so I could at least give him a little friendly smile, but he appeared to wallowing so deep in misery that he just stared at the floor and nothing else. I felt terrible. I also felt terrible that it would be weird of me to start talking to him. He, and those sitting around would think that I was creepy. This really makes me sad! To think that a word or two of comfort to a person in obvious pain would be considered odd.

The boy eventually stood up and got off the bus. I watched him walk, slumped over, into the snowy darkness. I still kind of wish that I had said something to him. Poor kid. Maybe next time I see someone who is as miserable-looking as him, I will tell them that they aren't alone in their sadness.

Why?

I decided to start this blog because people are interesting. I think that generally, most intelligent individuals would agree that watching people and interacting with people is something that will never get old. Even the most anti-social person will sometimes watch people walk by in the street. It's because humans are so completely and undeniably strange!

I have always found that if you're sitting at a bus stop on a busy stretch of street, paying attention to people usually pays off. Whether it's noticing that someone is having an animated conversation with their shadow on the ground in front of them, or noting the vibrant tie that they chose to wear today, there is something to be learnt about passers-by. I find that sitting on the bus is an especially entertaining form of people-watching. They always have the most intriguing expressions on their faces when they think no one is watching.

Either way, people-watching is fun, and sometimes worth writing about. I hope that the things I find interesting in people don't make me a crazy person, or a stalker, or a creep. I doubt that they do, but for the purposes of this blog, I would like to think that I am none of those things. But if it makes things more interesting, you can think that I am, if you want.