A Haiku

In honor of friend
Emily, who is so cute,
I poked someone on the knee.

Not really, but I will next time I see SB. Other people won't get it.

It was lovely to chat with Emily the other night. It was interesting timing, because that very day, I'd again come to the sad realization that some of my friends from high school are putting a much greater effort to stay in touch with each other than they ever have with me. Some of that, I'm sure, is because I fled from Tennessee just as fast as possible when I graduated from high school. Not from them. I still stayed in touch, I was just six hours away. Otherwise, I mean, I can come up with other reasons. But I don't feel like it. I don't feel like feeling bad about it, either, and I'm not going to. But yes. So chatting with Emily was a nice pick-me-up.

In other news... well, I don't really have any. I had all these ideas over the week about stuff to blog about, but then I didn't have time at work, no internet at home, and now the ideas have all fled. I did learn that apparently Cassie has similar traits to her sister, Callie (neither of us knew the other cat's name when we named them). For example, they both get scared very easily and hiss or growl. SB is using this as a reason to make himself feel better, as Cassie hisses or growls at him frequently, and me rarely. :-) He thinks it's a sign that she doesn't like him. I think it's a sign that she doesn't trust him as much, because he thinks she likes things like being picked up and whirled. I wonder if the two cats remember each other?

Singing Alone on the Train

I was getting on the metro yesterday when something strange happened. For the most part, there is an accepted code of conduct on the metro. Locals sit there, trying not to catch anyone's eye, spacing out and avoiding human contact, unless they know someone on the train with them. In that case, chatting quietly is permissible. Teens frequently chat loudly, rather than quietly, but that's teens for you. Tourists try not to fall over, try to figure out what stop they're at/going to, and talk loudly to the people in their group. Ones who have been to DC try to show off their knowledge.

But yesterday, there was a guy who didn't do any of these things. Instead, he got on, singing along to his music. This was enough to catch my attention. Then he started air drumming and I started wondering if I should move to a less crazy section of the train, particularly as he beat out a fast rhythm on the metal bar. I didn't; instead, I put in my earphones and watched out of the corner of my eye. And by the time he got off, I was a little jealous. Not of air drumming. I have no desire to air drum. But his complete lack of caring. He could care less what we thought of him. He just was happy to be there, happy to be himself. And that has an appeal to me. Maybe in a few years, you'll find me riding around, doing whatever I feel like, singing along to my music.