Strangers in the Night

So although my blogger dashboard says this is my 101st post, a careful count of my archives reveals that it's around 105, but some of those I am sure are accidental, completely blank posts and edited posts, because, as in the rest of my life, I'm clumsy on the Internet.

So I have a really slack week ahead of me, and as a result I have reached that stage in boredom where I am paralysed with it. I don't feel like doing anything, and nothing holds my interest. You cannot believe the effort it took to talk myself into getting out of bed. (My father says that if you are bored, you're boring, but I don't think he's felt this recently. In other news, I have an undying love for parenthesis.)

This week, too, was a relatively uneventful one. I did audition for directing scenes, so I am rather excited about that. (Although not many people showed up, and they have a grand total of 24 parts to fill, so if I don't hear back my poor ego might die.)

I have found a website on the Internets with all the Xena episodes from all the seasons with Spanish subtitles, so I've decided I will learn a language in a really passive way. I actually watched a Spanish PSA the other day, and I could understand a lot of it, so my plan is working! Mwahaha! (I am choosing to ignore the fact that my method will only teach me to understand Spanish, not speak it. OH WELL.)

Since my week was so utterly boring, I thought I'd share an anecdote as a precursor to the return of The Daily 'Dote. This happened last Sunday, when I was on the bus on the way back to Lethbridge. I got on the bus at the depot when it was already rather full, and I started walking towards the back looking for a non-suspicious person to sit next to. I always get paranoid when I enter a crowded bus because I fear I will make it all the way to the back without a good candidate seat, and of course you can't turn around when you're at the back, and so you might have to sit next to a scary/hideous person. Shut up, I'm shallow. So this paranoia caused me to take a seat only about a 3rd down the bus next to a kid who looked approximately 15. (This diagnosis was later confirmed when I saw him reading The Giver and The Golden Compass.) Behind me sat a woman of about 40 and her young (5?6? I suck at age guessing. He got stuck in the bathroom, anyway) son.

THUS BEGAN THE BUS RIDE FROM HELL!!!

I did what I normally do during bus rides: fished out my iPod, switched on the tunes, and dozed. Or at least I tried to. Every 20 minutes, the woman behind me had to get up to do something. And every single time, she touched me. It seemed accidental, but she was constantly brushing against my shoulder, or my hair, and one time she put her hand on my head. Every 20 minutes. For a 3 hour bus ride. And she never said anything! No apologies, nothing. Eventually I tired of this and gave up trying to sleep, and devoted most of my energy to trying not to yell rude things at her. Soon, I had to divide my restraint between her and the young man next to me. When he saw I was awake, He put away his book and ostensibly looked out the window, but he was constantly shooting glances at me. Little, darting glaces every 5 seconds or so. Very annoying. And every time I looked at him and caught him looking, he's quickly look away, and then shortly after press his leg against mine. At first I thought this was accidental, but after the 7th time it became clear. Over time, his courage built up and he'd leave his leg there instead of taking it away after a bit, so I was forced to move every instance. Then, for the last 45 minutes of the trip, the woman in the seat in front of me took out her sketchbook. Her seat was slightly reclined, and the man in front of my tormentor was not, so there was a gap that my seatmate stuck his head in. Like, all the way. I don't know why the woman didn't notice him staring at her sketching, because his head was practically against hers. This posture required him to lean over me, further reducing my space. He'd bob back and forth from sitting in his seat (and continuing to stare) and pressing his face in that crack for the duration of the ride. Not subtle bobbing, either. He'd slump loudly into his seat, jolting mine, and then lurch forward again. I hadn't had a proper bus nap, so I was doubly ready to kill him. I swear, it was the most homicidal for the longest amount of time I've ever felt.

Needless to say, I just about ran from the bus.