Today has been a very, very strange day. Perhaps it's the after effects of yesterday's gas leak (?) that blanketed Manhattan. I was a bit loopy most of the day, perhaps it was all in my mind -- that kind of paranoia always exposes the worst of me. And then this morning our internet went down at work which convinced me the end of the world was looming over us. Perhaps that would just be the end of my world, that is, if there were no internet. I think I'm sleeping too much.
In between discussing important world news events, such as when emo boys attack, yelling at gmail, and fawning over the new iPhone (holy crap), I was forced to go home and work the rest of the day from the comfort of my living area (which, I am proud to announce will finally have a couch after almost six months sitting in chairs). On my subway ride home I was so caught up in my book (the latest from the great Augusten Burroughs) that I managed to miss the seat completely. All of a sudden a man with calloused hands was helping me up and my cheeks heated up from embarrassment. The man was nice to pick up my book for me (without losing my place) and quite simply stated: it all moves too quickly sometimes.
Which it does, the subway, and everything else. I found myself repeating that phrase over and over in my head and realizing that it's all of a sudden 2007, I've finished school and have way too many bills to pay. The book I was so transfixed reading just seconds earlier now was backseat to too many questions in my head. I stood up for my stop and thanked the man again. He didn't acknowledge me whatsoever and proceeded to close his eyes. I left, bewildered, and made sure to watch my step.
People are strange.
P.S. - I watched the first episode of I'm From Rolling Stone last night and I'm totally hooked. Anyone else watching? I'm gunning for the ex-con from San Fran...he seems to be the only one with any writing chops. (Seriously, chick...journalism is not poetry). I should have tried out, except something tells me if I had actually made it I would be drinking with the Aussie every night instead of writing my articles. Hmm.
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