D
diamond-dancer
Guest
First of all I would like to apologise because this rant might not belong here. Actually... it might not belong ANYWHERE.
I feel compelled to publically expose myself for the fraud I truly am. (I also need an excuse not to open my textbooks and start studying).
I have often expressed my irritation about how the only time strangers speak to me is when they want my money and/or soul (those spreading the word of their god of choice).
I have always thought what a lovely world it would be if strangers talked to one another for the sheer enjoyment of conversation and without concealed motives.
These kinds of thoughts generally occur when I’m on the bus to uni and I’ve drained what interest I can out of the repetitive scenery beyond the window.
How strange riding on the bus can be! During peak times we’re all crammed in together like sardines... everyone is rubbing up against one another. We’re sharing air, warmth, sometimes even sweat. If you’re unlucky, you may be exposed to someone else’s undesirable bodily odours. People are tired. Their heads bump into your shoulder as they momentarily nod off. Is there nothing more intimate that sleeping next to someone? It IS when they’re at their most vulnerable, is it not?
AND YET... everyone pretends that there is no one else there! We stare out the window, or at our hands in our laps... Some people are so distressed at being confined with so many strangers that they simply close their eyes and pretend it isn’t happening. We read and re-read advertising we have absolutely no interest in and try to look absorbed.
Sometimes when someone sits next to you they’ll be rubbing up against the side of you for the rest of the trip and yet you won’t ever even make eye contact.
I have often imagined having compelling discussions about the world with the person sitting next to me. They would be non-committal, and at the end of our journey we would part ways and never see one another again.
Little old ladies do it with ease. Granted, their topics don’t venture far from the weather and “kids these days”, but it’s better than nothing.
What I was trying to say before I got carried away in a descriptive rant, was that this finally happened to me. I was staring out the window when the person next to me engaged me in conversation. We talked about the courses we are doing (he was a student also), and his recent move here.
Then it all went horribly wrong. He asked for my number and it freaked me out. It was then that I realised that my dream would never become a reality. There is no such thing as something for nothing in this world.
I am disembodying this particular fantasy of mine. It serves me right for romanticising every day situations. If I ever complain about strangers not taking an interest in me on public transport again, I expect you to stop me in my tracks.
I feel compelled to publically expose myself for the fraud I truly am. (I also need an excuse not to open my textbooks and start studying).
I have often expressed my irritation about how the only time strangers speak to me is when they want my money and/or soul (those spreading the word of their god of choice).
I have always thought what a lovely world it would be if strangers talked to one another for the sheer enjoyment of conversation and without concealed motives.
These kinds of thoughts generally occur when I’m on the bus to uni and I’ve drained what interest I can out of the repetitive scenery beyond the window.
How strange riding on the bus can be! During peak times we’re all crammed in together like sardines... everyone is rubbing up against one another. We’re sharing air, warmth, sometimes even sweat. If you’re unlucky, you may be exposed to someone else’s undesirable bodily odours. People are tired. Their heads bump into your shoulder as they momentarily nod off. Is there nothing more intimate that sleeping next to someone? It IS when they’re at their most vulnerable, is it not?
AND YET... everyone pretends that there is no one else there! We stare out the window, or at our hands in our laps... Some people are so distressed at being confined with so many strangers that they simply close their eyes and pretend it isn’t happening. We read and re-read advertising we have absolutely no interest in and try to look absorbed.
Sometimes when someone sits next to you they’ll be rubbing up against the side of you for the rest of the trip and yet you won’t ever even make eye contact.
I have often imagined having compelling discussions about the world with the person sitting next to me. They would be non-committal, and at the end of our journey we would part ways and never see one another again.
Little old ladies do it with ease. Granted, their topics don’t venture far from the weather and “kids these days”, but it’s better than nothing.
What I was trying to say before I got carried away in a descriptive rant, was that this finally happened to me. I was staring out the window when the person next to me engaged me in conversation. We talked about the courses we are doing (he was a student also), and his recent move here.
Then it all went horribly wrong. He asked for my number and it freaked me out. It was then that I realised that my dream would never become a reality. There is no such thing as something for nothing in this world.
I am disembodying this particular fantasy of mine. It serves me right for romanticising every day situations. If I ever complain about strangers not taking an interest in me on public transport again, I expect you to stop me in my tracks.