He has his gym bag and backpack with him as he makes his way onto my second morning bus. He's got pitch-black dark hair and fair skin. He's very good-looking and my latest bus crush. He looks a bit like the actor Jesse Metcalfe. I can't tell the color of his eyes yet. He has this sad look, like he's been crying a lot.
When he was on my bus the other day, this guy he knows started talking to him. I paused the music I was playing through my headphones and listened for any signs that he might be gay. It was tough hearing the conversation through all the other people talking around me but his reactions and mannerisms seemed, for the lack of a better term, straight-forward.
As he makes his way into the crowded aisle of the bus, he faces the opposite direction of me, a clear sign that he's not interested. Maybe he doesn't know I'm checking him out, maybe he does. Whatever the case is, it's to my advantage because I get to see how round his ass is today. I have this theory about how to tell if a guy is straight or gay. Straight guys have flat asses. Gay gays—top, bottom, versatile, it doesn't matter—have round asses. From where I'm standing and from what I can tell, he's got a round ass. There is hope!
Now I'm strategically analyzing everything he's wearing.
Dark suit jacket.
Light army green backpack.
Bright brown corduroy slacks.
The sporty shoe sneakers he's wearing makes me doubt he's gay, again. He's got a watch. It's not a Swatch. He's got brown leather gloves that match the color of his pants perfectly, both tucked into one of his suit jacket pockets. He checks to see if they are still there more than once. He has nice hands. I get excited when guys I like have wider, thicker fingers than mine. He does. I stare at his hands and wrists a lot.
He's getting nearer to me and my center corner on the bus, still and always facing away from me. I see that the top part of his backpack is open! Now I have this excuse to talk to him. I'd be helping him out by telling him about it. This guy a few weeks back told me my backpack was open as I was running on the opposite side of the street. He's practically right in front of me now, but I can't. Words could never leave my mouth in his direction at this point. I turn and face the clear plastic barrier I'm pressed up against and sink myself deep into the music I'm listening to, hoping he's staring at my reflection in the window on the other side.
Originally written Wednesday, January 20, 2010.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
"Jesse"
Friday, December 11, 2009
Pagers
I came across this link today and had a 90s flashback!
I had a pager back in the 90s. My brother worked for Motorola, then Panasonic and he set up a pager account for us. Basically, I had to "touch base" with my parents everywhere I went. I was living at home with my parents after college. I had a ton of jobs during that period of my life, but not one good enough that I could get my own place. My parents weren't happy with the situation or the fact that I just started to date guys. So, they set up number codes to communicate back-and-forth with them when I was out and about. They were strict, very strict. If my pager went off when I was anywhere, it usually meant bad news for me. My parents would be furious that I didn't page or call them to say where exactly I was. I'd dread going home.
When I'd hook up with guys back then, you could find me in some hotel hallway using a pay phone. I'd lie to my parents and give the code that I was staying at my friend's apartment. What Rocked for me is that's all I had to do! I didn't need to call them. If cell phones were as popular as they are now, I wouldn't have had at least half the sex I had in my 20s… and there wasn't much let me tell you! So, pagers were OK by me. God bless pagers! Plus people would wonder if I was a bad-ass drug dealer. So far from the truth!
I had a pager back in the 90s. My brother worked for Motorola, then Panasonic and he set up a pager account for us. Basically, I had to "touch base" with my parents everywhere I went. I was living at home with my parents after college. I had a ton of jobs during that period of my life, but not one good enough that I could get my own place. My parents weren't happy with the situation or the fact that I just started to date guys. So, they set up number codes to communicate back-and-forth with them when I was out and about. They were strict, very strict. If my pager went off when I was anywhere, it usually meant bad news for me. My parents would be furious that I didn't page or call them to say where exactly I was. I'd dread going home.
When I'd hook up with guys back then, you could find me in some hotel hallway using a pay phone. I'd lie to my parents and give the code that I was staying at my friend's apartment. What Rocked for me is that's all I had to do! I didn't need to call them. If cell phones were as popular as they are now, I wouldn't have had at least half the sex I had in my 20s… and there wasn't much let me tell you! So, pagers were OK by me. God bless pagers! Plus people would wonder if I was a bad-ass drug dealer. So far from the truth!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Things I Do On My Walks
When I was out walking today, this butterfly flew about 20 feet in front of me like it was on cue, waiting. It was on a straight path down the sidewalk I was on. I sped up to keep up with it. I thought maybe it was showing me the way. Hands in my pockets (trying to look casual) I kind of started running behind it but I couldn't keep up. It veered off my path and I tried to keep a view of it as much as I could. It flew higher and was lost finally somewhere behind the trees in the park. As gigantic as I am compared to this delicate, graceful butterfly, I couldn't keep up. It made me wish I could fly too and follow it a bit longer. Now I can only imagine where it was going—where it possibly meant for me to go.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Learning To Be A Good Cop
I could not tell you the joy I felt getting outside and walking yesterday, but I'll try to.
Saturday was a rough day. I still needed my walking cane to get around my apartment. I didn't go out. I was feeling really bummed because it had been almost one month since I broke my toe. I was fearing that maybe I should have done more or possibly walked less until I was properly healed. I'm taking the bone-strengthening combo calcium/magnisium/zink but I didn't get the silica I had on my list. I've been eating right. I cut down adding sugar or sweeteners—I read that sugar can interfere with healing bones. All that and I was still in pain almost one month later. Then Sunday came.
I really don't know what happened but I felt good as soon as I woke up. I had a dream the night before that I flexed my toes and felt excruciating pain to the point where I started crying. Awake, I buddy taped my toes I tried flexing them and wow! They didn't hurt doing that! And now I was up and walking around my place without my cane. I needed to celebrate. I drove over to the Walnut Street Shops in Shadyside to window shop and walk around.
I parked much closer to the shops than I normal do. I have to change my walking habits and ease into all this for now. I stopped by the newly remodeled Apple Store, but I must say, it doesn't seem all that different than from before. There was a sidewalk sale outside so I took to walking around from shop to shop.
Along the way I saw this woman with forearm crutches. My heart felt for her. As slow as I was walking, she was even slower. I didn't pass her up with my nose up in the air like so many people have done to me when I was with my cane. I watched her as long as I could without making her feel uncomfortable. Here I was complaining about my sucky summer because of a broken toe. This woman has to deal with two crutches and getting herself around. It's beyond tough. It's physically exhausting and emotionally draining. I could only feel a micro part of myself that could identify with her but at least I felt that. I'm almost sure most people didn't empathize or even see her. I did.
I'm glad I broke my toe. It's slowed me down. Not that my life was very fast mind you, but I just really was not in the moment. I was always thinking ahead; where I should be, what I should and wasn't doing. Now, I have seen things like shadows move. I helped a struggling earth worm off a sidewalk after a rainstorm. I witnessed people's kindness to my temporary condition and I've witnessed people's all-out ignorance to people with special needs. I see people with walking canes, and there are so many. I never saw them before. I, like maybe you, thought they were just too slow or too lazy or too unhealthy. I probably walked faster around them like maybe you have done with a cocky 'I'm great, get out of my way' attitude. I'm trying to not pass judgement on people anymore. Nobody but nobody knows what we go through—our struggles and setbacks—than we do. So, I feel like this momentary physical challenge I had has indeed changed me. I want to be a better person and I am very thankful for all the good that's happened in my life.
Saturday was a rough day. I still needed my walking cane to get around my apartment. I didn't go out. I was feeling really bummed because it had been almost one month since I broke my toe. I was fearing that maybe I should have done more or possibly walked less until I was properly healed. I'm taking the bone-strengthening combo calcium/magnisium/zink but I didn't get the silica I had on my list. I've been eating right. I cut down adding sugar or sweeteners—I read that sugar can interfere with healing bones. All that and I was still in pain almost one month later. Then Sunday came.
I really don't know what happened but I felt good as soon as I woke up. I had a dream the night before that I flexed my toes and felt excruciating pain to the point where I started crying. Awake, I buddy taped my toes I tried flexing them and wow! They didn't hurt doing that! And now I was up and walking around my place without my cane. I needed to celebrate. I drove over to the Walnut Street Shops in Shadyside to window shop and walk around.
I parked much closer to the shops than I normal do. I have to change my walking habits and ease into all this for now. I stopped by the newly remodeled Apple Store, but I must say, it doesn't seem all that different than from before. There was a sidewalk sale outside so I took to walking around from shop to shop.
Along the way I saw this woman with forearm crutches. My heart felt for her. As slow as I was walking, she was even slower. I didn't pass her up with my nose up in the air like so many people have done to me when I was with my cane. I watched her as long as I could without making her feel uncomfortable. Here I was complaining about my sucky summer because of a broken toe. This woman has to deal with two crutches and getting herself around. It's beyond tough. It's physically exhausting and emotionally draining. I could only feel a micro part of myself that could identify with her but at least I felt that. I'm almost sure most people didn't empathize or even see her. I did.
I'm glad I broke my toe. It's slowed me down. Not that my life was very fast mind you, but I just really was not in the moment. I was always thinking ahead; where I should be, what I should and wasn't doing. Now, I have seen things like shadows move. I helped a struggling earth worm off a sidewalk after a rainstorm. I witnessed people's kindness to my temporary condition and I've witnessed people's all-out ignorance to people with special needs. I see people with walking canes, and there are so many. I never saw them before. I, like maybe you, thought they were just too slow or too lazy or too unhealthy. I probably walked faster around them like maybe you have done with a cocky 'I'm great, get out of my way' attitude. I'm trying to not pass judgement on people anymore. Nobody but nobody knows what we go through—our struggles and setbacks—than we do. So, I feel like this momentary physical challenge I had has indeed changed me. I want to be a better person and I am very thankful for all the good that's happened in my life.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Walking In My Chucks
I think my toe is coming along nicely after being broken on the Fourth. Today is a good day. I'm not in major pain, but I'm taking it easy. This month I was going around this odd expression on my face when I'd walk with my cane outside. Some people are nice and try to make eye contact with me, but mostly I wouldn't look at them and stare down at the pavement, wondering why this had to happen to me right now. What wrong did I do? Who did I hurt? Why? My 12-day summer vacation was a complete disaster. It ended with me accidently banging my foot into my hallway corner at home then a visit to the emergency room to confirm the damage. But you know how people say you should learn from bad things? Well, I did. I'm more aware of people with walking canes. And there are so many! I never really noticed them before. You won't either, until something happens to you.
Walking on a cane is exhausting.
I'm scheduled to ditch my cane at the end of the month. I cannot wait. Keeping my foot elevated and taking twice, sometimes three times as long to get anywhere has not been fun. But, I have learned. If you see somebody with a walking cane get on the bus, move your lazy ass from the front of the bus to the back. The seats at the front are for those with special needs. It's not for those who doll themselves up and think they are special. I cannot tell you how enraged I feel when I see young people get on the bus, plop themselves down on the front seats and start checking their cell phone messages. I once saw this guy—a young, healthy hospital worker—with his scrubs on watch as a blind person was getting on the bus. He was seated at the first front seat and just watched this blind woman and her dog as older people opposite him had to move to let her sit down. I watched him carefully. There was nothing, nothing wrong with him. He had his scrubs pulled down past his ass and pulled them up once he got off out onto his street where his hospital was. I stared him down but it didn't work. It baffles me how someone can work IN A HOSPITAL, and not want to help others when they're off duty.
I can't wait to run again! I miss running for the bus with determination and speed. I miss walking everywhere! I had to cut back all my walking. I miss my bed. I've taken to sleeping my couch so I can keep my one foot elevated off the arm shoulder. A bed would just be too comfy. I miss comfy! I miss dancing! I was born a dancer. I dance all the time. At home sometimes when I'm up and a good song is on, I'll do stuff leaning on my cane and I'm very thankful I can even be up on my feet. But yes, I miss the freedom of going out on a dance floor and dancing non-stop for 2 hours.
I'll reverse this saying so you'll get the meaning: Sometimes you need to get down to get up.
When this is all done, I think I'll be a better dancer.
Walking on a cane is exhausting.
I'm scheduled to ditch my cane at the end of the month. I cannot wait. Keeping my foot elevated and taking twice, sometimes three times as long to get anywhere has not been fun. But, I have learned. If you see somebody with a walking cane get on the bus, move your lazy ass from the front of the bus to the back. The seats at the front are for those with special needs. It's not for those who doll themselves up and think they are special. I cannot tell you how enraged I feel when I see young people get on the bus, plop themselves down on the front seats and start checking their cell phone messages. I once saw this guy—a young, healthy hospital worker—with his scrubs on watch as a blind person was getting on the bus. He was seated at the first front seat and just watched this blind woman and her dog as older people opposite him had to move to let her sit down. I watched him carefully. There was nothing, nothing wrong with him. He had his scrubs pulled down past his ass and pulled them up once he got off out onto his street where his hospital was. I stared him down but it didn't work. It baffles me how someone can work IN A HOSPITAL, and not want to help others when they're off duty.
I can't wait to run again! I miss running for the bus with determination and speed. I miss walking everywhere! I had to cut back all my walking. I miss my bed. I've taken to sleeping my couch so I can keep my one foot elevated off the arm shoulder. A bed would just be too comfy. I miss comfy! I miss dancing! I was born a dancer. I dance all the time. At home sometimes when I'm up and a good song is on, I'll do stuff leaning on my cane and I'm very thankful I can even be up on my feet. But yes, I miss the freedom of going out on a dance floor and dancing non-stop for 2 hours.
I'll reverse this saying so you'll get the meaning: Sometimes you need to get down to get up.
When this is all done, I think I'll be a better dancer.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Buying My Happiness
Earlier in the day, at lunch, I walked over to the bank to cash the hundred dollar check my parents gave me for my birthday. This year instead of just doing a boring old deposit, I got the cash. I already knew what my first purchase would be. I schemed.
Tired from the day, physically and very much emotionally, I needed a pick-me-up lying there on my couch, depressed tonight. I noticed it was 8:22 PM after I got off the phone with my mom. Too late for grocery shopping, but not too late for 50% of my birthday gift!
I quickly got dressed in my shorts and t-shirt and headed to the Shadyside Walnut Street Shops. Raining and dark, I noticed most all of the shops were already closed for the evening at 8 PM when I got there. I was so bummed that I figured even if the gift shop store I wanted was closed, I could check out the times on their door and plan to come back tomorrow. Maybe even cry a little because of the energy I spent to get there.
I passed the trendy coffee shop that I really never go to that often and wondered what the people in there thought of my walking cane as I passed. Usually, nobody says anything and I didn't look for their reaction. I was focused on my gift store destination. I saw lights emanating from it, but that didn't mean much. Most shops keep their lights on for security reasons at night. I got to the door and saw some young guy in there who looked like he could be working. Hope! I went for the door handle. It opened!
"Just so you know we close in about ten minutes," he said.
"I know," I semi-giggled back as I passed right by him.
I knew what I wanted and got it. I bought "The Star Wars Poster Book"! I've always loved that book ever since it came out but just never got it because it was $50. Now, it's mine and will be perched close by my bedside tonight along with my other books.
Books don't give me great conversation at night and never a snuggle, but they make me wonder and dream of all those things.
Tired from the day, physically and very much emotionally, I needed a pick-me-up lying there on my couch, depressed tonight. I noticed it was 8:22 PM after I got off the phone with my mom. Too late for grocery shopping, but not too late for 50% of my birthday gift!
I quickly got dressed in my shorts and t-shirt and headed to the Shadyside Walnut Street Shops. Raining and dark, I noticed most all of the shops were already closed for the evening at 8 PM when I got there. I was so bummed that I figured even if the gift shop store I wanted was closed, I could check out the times on their door and plan to come back tomorrow. Maybe even cry a little because of the energy I spent to get there.
I passed the trendy coffee shop that I really never go to that often and wondered what the people in there thought of my walking cane as I passed. Usually, nobody says anything and I didn't look for their reaction. I was focused on my gift store destination. I saw lights emanating from it, but that didn't mean much. Most shops keep their lights on for security reasons at night. I got to the door and saw some young guy in there who looked like he could be working. Hope! I went for the door handle. It opened!
"Just so you know we close in about ten minutes," he said.
"I know," I semi-giggled back as I passed right by him.
I knew what I wanted and got it. I bought "The Star Wars Poster Book"! I've always loved that book ever since it came out but just never got it because it was $50. Now, it's mine and will be perched close by my bedside tonight along with my other books.
Books don't give me great conversation at night and never a snuggle, but they make me wonder and dream of all those things.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Grooming 101
So when I was washing my hair and couple of days ago, guess what I did? I shampooed my beard!
I did that again yesterday morning and I'll probably do it again today. There's just something a bit extravagant doing it. It makes me feel rich. I like smelling fresh. If my hair gets attention, so should my beard. So, I might be in the shower a few seconds longer, but I think it's time well spent. It makes me happy and I'm a huge sucker for anything that makes me happy.
I did that again yesterday morning and I'll probably do it again today. There's just something a bit extravagant doing it. It makes me feel rich. I like smelling fresh. If my hair gets attention, so should my beard. So, I might be in the shower a few seconds longer, but I think it's time well spent. It makes me happy and I'm a huge sucker for anything that makes me happy.
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