Yes, I treat the bus like my own personal zoo. Yes, I point out people's flaws/unique traits. No, it's not always nice.
The thing is, it takes one to know one. I'm not the most normal person in a vehicle either.
I eat raw mushrooms on the bus.
Sometimes, a Jonas Brothers or Hanson song plays a little too loudly on my iPod.
I often fall asleep on the bus. I once woke up to someone trying to lift my backpack beside me. I'm not sure if I snore.
I almost fell over when I was on the bus once. I was seated.
I think I breathe loudly when I can't hear myself.
My glasses fog up when it's cold out. I have to wait until they defog before I can see again.
I stare at people creepily to write for this blog.
There are probably far more odd things about my transit-riding self, but I figure that's enough for now. This is why I can write about others; I'm one of them.
Showing posts with label transit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transit. Show all posts
2012-02-26
2012-01-25
Food
Leave it to people on the bus to make regular food look gross.
A few days back, a woman beside me decided to eat one of those SnackPack pudding cups. That's not too weird until you realize she didn't have a spoon and proceeded to squish and slurp from the cup. The sugary smell was nauseating too. After finishing the pudding, she pulled out a set of nail clippers and cut her cuticles right there beside me. The bus is not a place to cut your skin, people! I don't want it flinging at me.
Yesterday, the bus started to stink like some sort of sausage or deli meat. The stench filled up the vehicle after a wave of passengers boarded, so I couldn't tell who was to blame. I wasn't even sure if it was from some sort of sandwich or from a person's body/clothing. Either way, it was pretty gross for a vegetarian like me.
A woman sat beside me and pulled out an apple in a bag. I was glad someone was finally eating something healthy and relatively scentless on the bus. The problem? Two of the times she bit the crunchy apple, the apple juice sprayed all over me! The woman didn't even say anything when it was apparent I had been sprayed.
A few days back, a woman beside me decided to eat one of those SnackPack pudding cups. That's not too weird until you realize she didn't have a spoon and proceeded to squish and slurp from the cup. The sugary smell was nauseating too. After finishing the pudding, she pulled out a set of nail clippers and cut her cuticles right there beside me. The bus is not a place to cut your skin, people! I don't want it flinging at me.
Yesterday, the bus started to stink like some sort of sausage or deli meat. The stench filled up the vehicle after a wave of passengers boarded, so I couldn't tell who was to blame. I wasn't even sure if it was from some sort of sandwich or from a person's body/clothing. Either way, it was pretty gross for a vegetarian like me.
A woman sat beside me and pulled out an apple in a bag. I was glad someone was finally eating something healthy and relatively scentless on the bus. The problem? Two of the times she bit the crunchy apple, the apple juice sprayed all over me! The woman didn't even say anything when it was apparent I had been sprayed.
2012-01-06
Crazy food man 2.0
I thought scarred up Spam man was weird, but I managed to take a bus with a guy who could compete.
After the bus I was on left the station, a man near the front pulled out a baby food jar. He opened it up and started digging through it with his fingers. He pulled out chunks of something covered in slime and slurped it back. I was disgusted! I'm all for reusing containers, but at least bring a utensil.
This man's fingers were covered in slime and spit and he proceeded to touch the poles and walls of the bus. This is why you don't touch the poles on a bus, children.
After slurping back his meal, the man waved his hands around and shouted in a different language. He also sniffed his bus transfer sheet.
I have a feeling mental illness played a part in this case and that makes me feel horrible, but it's a bit unnerving.
Also on the bus that day was a girl with the old half black, half blonde hairstyle. 2002 Avril Lavigne called; she wants her hair back.
After the bus I was on left the station, a man near the front pulled out a baby food jar. He opened it up and started digging through it with his fingers. He pulled out chunks of something covered in slime and slurped it back. I was disgusted! I'm all for reusing containers, but at least bring a utensil.
This man's fingers were covered in slime and spit and he proceeded to touch the poles and walls of the bus. This is why you don't touch the poles on a bus, children.
After slurping back his meal, the man waved his hands around and shouted in a different language. He also sniffed his bus transfer sheet.
I have a feeling mental illness played a part in this case and that makes me feel horrible, but it's a bit unnerving.
Also on the bus that day was a girl with the old half black, half blonde hairstyle. 2002 Avril Lavigne called; she wants her hair back.
2011-11-25
Thursday night in Toronto
I'm starting a petition to get new video camera batteries at my school. You can sign the petition at www.HumberCamerasAreTryingToRuinMyWholeLife,GradesAndFutureCareer.com
Though I still hate the camera batteries from my school's video cage, my group was able to film for the project! Make-a-Wish's outdoor festivities froze us and the batteries, so we decided on an indoor event - the Amnesty International Reel Awareness Film Festival. The event turned out to be far smaller than we expected, but we still got some good shots of people mingling and going into the theater. We got some great clips of a speech and two interviews with some of the festival founders.
When we arrived, we were warned that filming the attendees probably wasn't a great idea because some had spouses stuck in foreign jails. Naturally, we filmed everyone and everything anyways. No one cared one bit and the organization had a photographer there getting shots of everyone. Don't bring us down, Amnesty.
The first battery died within minutes, so we all got incredibly worried. The battery that I had been keeping warm in my pocket lasted all night though. SUCCESS!
We finished all of the inside shots and decided to do a sign off/exit shot outside the building to have a change of scenery. This time, the battery worked with us, but Torontonians heckled us instead.
While filming our 30 second shot, we had TWO people bother us. Two in the span of maybe five minutes of actual shooting. The first man was somewhere in his forties or fifties and I'm pretty sure he was drunk before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night.
He said, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
At this point, we all figured he'd ask what we were shooting for and wish us luck. Of course not.
"Do you care that no one gives a shit?"
"Uh....." *blank stares*
"No one's even here. You're not filming anything."
"Everyone's inside, watching a movie. We're just filming for an assignment."
"Yeah, well... Good luck with that," he said as he stormed off.
Sorry for interrupting your drunken stumble around Toronto with our innocent, out of the way filming. Stay classy, my friend.
The next guy was around my age (early twenties), so, needless to say, he was probably also drunk.
"Why are you zoomed in on her chin? Stop macro zooming! You're on her chin."
Uhhh... What? We had perfect framing with our on-screen reporter showing from the waist up to the top of her head. Does alcohol mess with your vision to that extent?
As soon as we finished that shoot, we booked it. We did not want any more crazies approaching us, so we packed up and left. A short while into our walk, a man started to walk beside us. He joined in on our conversation like normal, so we weren't too worried. All of a sudden, he raised his hand and told us about his watch. Apparently, he bought a $3 underwater watch that only half works, whatever that means. His mind told him we'd be interested in knowing this, I guess. I walked ahead so he wouldn't notice the fact that I was laughing like crazy. Another girl slowed down so she could laugh behind us. The last girl was stuck in the middle, listening to a story about the watch.
Soon enough, the man walked ahead, but we were all going to the same subway station. He turned around and asked if we were following him. Not on purpose, bud. Not on purpose.
He proceeded to say, "look at this" and he flashed a blue laser pointer onto his upper arm, showing off some buttons.
Uh...Congrats?
We parted ways and the girls and I went to wait for the next subway train. We just missed the last train and a random woman did too. She used all her strength to smack the support pillars with an envelope full of something hard, making a pretty loud noise each time. THE TRAINS COME EVERY 2 MINUTES, WOMAN. Calm down.
We took the train and a bus (that was SO LATE) back to school, but only got there at 10:05 or so, so we missed the 10 p.m. closing of the camera cage. I only got home around 10:40 or 10:50, but I did get a ride home, thankfully.
And that was my Thursday night in the journalism program.
Though I still hate the camera batteries from my school's video cage, my group was able to film for the project! Make-a-Wish's outdoor festivities froze us and the batteries, so we decided on an indoor event - the Amnesty International Reel Awareness Film Festival. The event turned out to be far smaller than we expected, but we still got some good shots of people mingling and going into the theater. We got some great clips of a speech and two interviews with some of the festival founders.
When we arrived, we were warned that filming the attendees probably wasn't a great idea because some had spouses stuck in foreign jails. Naturally, we filmed everyone and everything anyways. No one cared one bit and the organization had a photographer there getting shots of everyone. Don't bring us down, Amnesty.
The first battery died within minutes, so we all got incredibly worried. The battery that I had been keeping warm in my pocket lasted all night though. SUCCESS!
We finished all of the inside shots and decided to do a sign off/exit shot outside the building to have a change of scenery. This time, the battery worked with us, but Torontonians heckled us instead.
While filming our 30 second shot, we had TWO people bother us. Two in the span of maybe five minutes of actual shooting. The first man was somewhere in his forties or fifties and I'm pretty sure he was drunk before 9 p.m. on a Thursday night.
He said, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
At this point, we all figured he'd ask what we were shooting for and wish us luck. Of course not.
"Do you care that no one gives a shit?"
"Uh....." *blank stares*
"No one's even here. You're not filming anything."
"Everyone's inside, watching a movie. We're just filming for an assignment."
"Yeah, well... Good luck with that," he said as he stormed off.
Sorry for interrupting your drunken stumble around Toronto with our innocent, out of the way filming. Stay classy, my friend.
The next guy was around my age (early twenties), so, needless to say, he was probably also drunk.
"Why are you zoomed in on her chin? Stop macro zooming! You're on her chin."
Uhhh... What? We had perfect framing with our on-screen reporter showing from the waist up to the top of her head. Does alcohol mess with your vision to that extent?
As soon as we finished that shoot, we booked it. We did not want any more crazies approaching us, so we packed up and left. A short while into our walk, a man started to walk beside us. He joined in on our conversation like normal, so we weren't too worried. All of a sudden, he raised his hand and told us about his watch. Apparently, he bought a $3 underwater watch that only half works, whatever that means. His mind told him we'd be interested in knowing this, I guess. I walked ahead so he wouldn't notice the fact that I was laughing like crazy. Another girl slowed down so she could laugh behind us. The last girl was stuck in the middle, listening to a story about the watch.
Soon enough, the man walked ahead, but we were all going to the same subway station. He turned around and asked if we were following him. Not on purpose, bud. Not on purpose.
He proceeded to say, "look at this" and he flashed a blue laser pointer onto his upper arm, showing off some buttons.
Uh...Congrats?
We parted ways and the girls and I went to wait for the next subway train. We just missed the last train and a random woman did too. She used all her strength to smack the support pillars with an envelope full of something hard, making a pretty loud noise each time. THE TRAINS COME EVERY 2 MINUTES, WOMAN. Calm down.
We took the train and a bus (that was SO LATE) back to school, but only got there at 10:05 or so, so we missed the 10 p.m. closing of the camera cage. I only got home around 10:40 or 10:50, but I did get a ride home, thankfully.
And that was my Thursday night in the journalism program.
2011-11-04
Catchin' Some Zeds
Sleeping on the bus is almost inevitable for me these days. With my busy journalism schedule, I often go to sleep late, toss in bed thinking about interviews and deadlines and wake up early (I'm talking 5 a.m. early).
I have a habit of slumping forward or resting my head on my fist with my elbow on the tiny window ledge. I conk out without even trying and I always seem to wake up to find a new group of people surrounding me. It's a really weird feeling.
Once, I fell asleep while resting on my hand. I was pretty comfy until I heard people talking around me. I started to stir and opened my eyes to see a standing man reaching out to poke me. I took one of my earbuds out of my ear to hear what he wanted. He asked me if I could open the window and it was a pretty cold day. Sure, strange bus man; I'll just stand up to open a window above me for your... comfort? These two huge bags on my lap won't stop me from standing up in a full bus. No worries.
I told him I couldn't stand up and he said it was alright. He got off at the next stop... Whhaaattt? Why did you want me to open the window?! You make no sense, strange bus man.
When I was going home, a male around my age sat down beside me. Not long into the ride, I fell asleep. Instead of leaning against the window ledge, I slumped forward over my bags. I don't know what woke me up, but I opened my eyes to find the guy beside me fast asleep, leaning over into my area. Because I was moved forward, we didn't touch. I'm still going to tell people I slept with a stranger on a crowded bus for the shock factor.
2011-10-31
Fashion Faux Pas
So, as none of you (or should I say "you," since I know my teacher's the only one reading this) know, I graduated from the fashion business program at Humber. Though I dress myself with comfort in mind, I did learn styling, merchandising, colour theory and all that jazz. Because of this, I'm obviously a fashion expert. You must all trust my styling judgement and listen to my ingenious tips.
The bus is a horrible, horrible place for fashion. Some people go too far and some people don't go far enough. Either way, the bus never lets me down when I need to get my critique on.
1. Only a few days ago, I saw a perfectly normal male, from the waist up. He had a slight mohawk (the one where guys have pretty short hair, but they use a slightly closer number on the shaver on the sides of their heads) and a black bomber jacket. Normal, right? He was wearing red flannel pajama pants on the bottom. The PJ bottoms were covered in what looked like superhero sayings ("BOOM" "POW" "ZING") and some character, I think. I squinted and looked around people to try to see what was on the pants to no avail. If only he came a bit closer.
The pattern was busy like the photo, but the pants were red and definitely not Superman.
2. The buses I take are in Brampton. This city has the largest Indian population in Canada according to the most reliable source ever - Wikipedia. For those of you who keep Columbus's INCORRECT assumption going, I mean the real Indians, not natives/aboriginals/first nations people. (Pet peeve. Don't call first nations people Indians. I will hate you, deep down.)
Whenever it rains, older Sikh men (the guys with turbans) have trouble fitting a hood over their religious headgear. I don't know if umbrellas are difficult for them to find, but I've seen a few who have discovered the plastic bag. I'm not kidding... They throw plastic bags over their heads and walk around like bosses. I saw one man who decided a Dollarama shower cap was the best option. This man was sitting on a bus wearing something my 70-something-year-old Oma wears in the shower.
In the winter, scarves come out. I don't know if light, fashionable scarves are "in" during the Indian heat, but as soon as winter scarves pop up, some Indian people don't seem to know what to do with them. I've seen far too many older men with scarves wrapped under their chins and tied tightly on top of their turbans. I've seen women wrap scarves around their heads too. It's called a hat, ladies. I guess the men don't have much of an option.
Note to self: invent earmuffs for men with turbans.
3. There's a girl I've seen a few times waiting for the same bus as I do. She's got an awesome pinup-esque style. She has a great red wool coat, winged eyeliner and short bangs. I thought she was adorable until I sat behind her on the bus. Her dark brown/black hair is dyed. Apparently, she did the dye job herself because she left chunks of dark blonde/orange-y hair at the back of her head. Haven't any of her friends told her?! Poor girl's walking around like her hair's got vitiligo.
4. One woman decided tight white pants were a great idea. WRONG! If you're wearing white pants, make sure they fit you. White can show every lump and bump and I do not want to see any of that, thank you. Also, don't buy a pair that goes up past your belly button unless you're going to wear a shirt that leaves everyone none the wiser.
5. I don't care if something's a fad; it doesn't make it less stupid. Leggings as pants are a no. Jeggings are a hell no. It's called denim. Try it sometime.
DO NOT wear those raccoon tail things. You're a human, not a garbage-digging, plant-killing, cat-fighting, mask-faced creature. Well, I hope not. Don't steal their tails.
DO NOT wear hipster sunglasses on an overcast, rainy day. I'm talking to you, hipster bus boy. His sunglasses had bright blue arms that said "so hip it hurts." No. Just no.
Hair feathers are not cool. They're about as beautiful as that whole 'coon tail hair dying people do/did.
Don't do it.
The bus is a horrible, horrible place for fashion. Some people go too far and some people don't go far enough. Either way, the bus never lets me down when I need to get my critique on.
1. Only a few days ago, I saw a perfectly normal male, from the waist up. He had a slight mohawk (the one where guys have pretty short hair, but they use a slightly closer number on the shaver on the sides of their heads) and a black bomber jacket. Normal, right? He was wearing red flannel pajama pants on the bottom. The PJ bottoms were covered in what looked like superhero sayings ("BOOM" "POW" "ZING") and some character, I think. I squinted and looked around people to try to see what was on the pants to no avail. If only he came a bit closer.
2. The buses I take are in Brampton. This city has the largest Indian population in Canada according to the most reliable source ever - Wikipedia. For those of you who keep Columbus's INCORRECT assumption going, I mean the real Indians, not natives/aboriginals/first nations people. (Pet peeve. Don't call first nations people Indians. I will hate you, deep down.)
Whenever it rains, older Sikh men (the guys with turbans) have trouble fitting a hood over their religious headgear. I don't know if umbrellas are difficult for them to find, but I've seen a few who have discovered the plastic bag. I'm not kidding... They throw plastic bags over their heads and walk around like bosses. I saw one man who decided a Dollarama shower cap was the best option. This man was sitting on a bus wearing something my 70-something-year-old Oma wears in the shower.
In the winter, scarves come out. I don't know if light, fashionable scarves are "in" during the Indian heat, but as soon as winter scarves pop up, some Indian people don't seem to know what to do with them. I've seen far too many older men with scarves wrapped under their chins and tied tightly on top of their turbans. I've seen women wrap scarves around their heads too. It's called a hat, ladies. I guess the men don't have much of an option.
Note to self: invent earmuffs for men with turbans.
3. There's a girl I've seen a few times waiting for the same bus as I do. She's got an awesome pinup-esque style. She has a great red wool coat, winged eyeliner and short bangs. I thought she was adorable until I sat behind her on the bus. Her dark brown/black hair is dyed. Apparently, she did the dye job herself because she left chunks of dark blonde/orange-y hair at the back of her head. Haven't any of her friends told her?! Poor girl's walking around like her hair's got vitiligo.
4. One woman decided tight white pants were a great idea. WRONG! If you're wearing white pants, make sure they fit you. White can show every lump and bump and I do not want to see any of that, thank you. Also, don't buy a pair that goes up past your belly button unless you're going to wear a shirt that leaves everyone none the wiser.
5. I don't care if something's a fad; it doesn't make it less stupid. Leggings as pants are a no. Jeggings are a hell no. It's called denim. Try it sometime.
DO NOT wear those raccoon tail things. You're a human, not a garbage-digging, plant-killing, cat-fighting, mask-faced creature. Well, I hope not. Don't steal their tails.
DO NOT wear hipster sunglasses on an overcast, rainy day. I'm talking to you, hipster bus boy. His sunglasses had bright blue arms that said "so hip it hurts." No. Just no.
Hair feathers are not cool. They're about as beautiful as that whole 'coon tail hair dying people do/did.
Don't do it.
2011-10-28
Rules
Riding the bus is never pleasant. The number of strange people in this blog alone tells you there are definitely some problems with public transit. Because of this, I've come up with a list of bus etiquette. Though it may end up costing me content for this blog, I'm willing to take the chance.
1. Take a shower. This doesn't mean use half a bottle of floral perfume, grandmas; this means jump in the shower and use real soap.
2. Keep the noise down. Don't talk loudly (don't want to hear about your last appointment with the doctor). Don't play your music out loud (no one really likes rap. NO ONE). Don't yell into your phone (technology has improved since the tin can phone). Don't sing along with your music (we can't hear the song and you're not promoting it well).
3. Think about personal space. When you sprawl out in your seat, I have to squish against the wall. This isn't comfortable. Don't sit sideways in the seat with a big backpack on. You're crushing me.
4. No PDA. I'm trying to get home from a busy, stressful day at school; I don't want to watch you people drooling all over each other. I always have an urge to smack both of your heads together and you'd better hope I don't give in to it. Pretty sure you can keep those desires to yourself for a full bus ride.
5. If your stop's coming up soon, take an aisle seat or stand. When you take the wall seat, I have to get up to let you off. This is annoying. Think before you act.
6. No strollers. Buses are not designed for strollers. If you leave your stroller out in the aisle, everyone else will bump into it and wake your baby, making it cry. This just makes every situation worse.
7. Don't dance to your music. We can't hear it. You look stupid.
8. Don't eat foods I will crave when I see them. Self explanatory.
9. Have your change/ticket/pass ready before you get on the bus. Were you never a Boy Scout/Girl Guide? Motto: be prepared.
10. If you don't have a heavy bag or leg problems and you're young, give up your seat. I don't know how many times I've had to stand while carrying a few big, heavy bags. Not only do my bags force me to block the aisle, they also weigh me down. Help a girl out.
1. Take a shower. This doesn't mean use half a bottle of floral perfume, grandmas; this means jump in the shower and use real soap.
2. Keep the noise down. Don't talk loudly (don't want to hear about your last appointment with the doctor). Don't play your music out loud (no one really likes rap. NO ONE). Don't yell into your phone (technology has improved since the tin can phone). Don't sing along with your music (we can't hear the song and you're not promoting it well).
3. Think about personal space. When you sprawl out in your seat, I have to squish against the wall. This isn't comfortable. Don't sit sideways in the seat with a big backpack on. You're crushing me.
4. No PDA. I'm trying to get home from a busy, stressful day at school; I don't want to watch you people drooling all over each other. I always have an urge to smack both of your heads together and you'd better hope I don't give in to it. Pretty sure you can keep those desires to yourself for a full bus ride.
5. If your stop's coming up soon, take an aisle seat or stand. When you take the wall seat, I have to get up to let you off. This is annoying. Think before you act.
6. No strollers. Buses are not designed for strollers. If you leave your stroller out in the aisle, everyone else will bump into it and wake your baby, making it cry. This just makes every situation worse.
7. Don't dance to your music. We can't hear it. You look stupid.
8. Don't eat foods I will crave when I see them. Self explanatory.
9. Have your change/ticket/pass ready before you get on the bus. Were you never a Boy Scout/Girl Guide? Motto: be prepared.
10. If you don't have a heavy bag or leg problems and you're young, give up your seat. I don't know how many times I've had to stand while carrying a few big, heavy bags. Not only do my bags force me to block the aisle, they also weigh me down. Help a girl out.
2011-10-26
Bad Note
A while back, I was on the bus home when I noticed a girl near the front pull out some music. I'm sure you're expecting some sort of iPod, but you're completely wrong, of course. This lady whips out either a CD player or a walkman - I can't even remember. Either way, it's outdated and bulky!
That's alright though; if you want to carry CDs around, go for it. Thing is, she didn't stop there. She started singing as loudly as she could.
If she was a good singer, it would have been annoying. Instead, she was rip-your-eardrums-out bad. She sang everything from ballads to top 40 pop songs.
I thought it was a one time thing, but I'm only writing this post because a friend reminded me of the annoying singer.
I really hope she now keeps her singing to the shower.
That's alright though; if you want to carry CDs around, go for it. Thing is, she didn't stop there. She started singing as loudly as she could.
If she was a good singer, it would have been annoying. Instead, she was rip-your-eardrums-out bad. She sang everything from ballads to top 40 pop songs.
I thought it was a one time thing, but I'm only writing this post because a friend reminded me of the annoying singer.
I really hope she now keeps her singing to the shower.
2011-10-08
The Sleeper
Journalism has been far too crazy for me to update this blog as often as I'd like to. I fill my BlackBerry's MemoPad with descriptions of people on the buses, but I don't seem to have the time to type it up here. Well, I might, but a girl needs a little sit-on-the-couch-staring-into-space-wishing-journalism-would-just-give-her-a-break-already time.
I keep thinking I should save some of the interesting characters for when there's a lull in crazy bus people, but I don't see that day coming anytime soon.
A few days ago, I was sitting on the bus home. I'm sneaky and I walk a bit farther to go to one of the earlier, less busy stops. Because of this, I almost always get the seat I want. Gives me a sense of victory at the end of a long, boring day at school.
I got the perfect seat - the one right beside the window, across from the back door - and I was getting ready to pull out my iPod and phone and get settled for the ride.
The bus pulled up to the busy stop and a wave of people rushed in.
One of the first guys on the bus has his pick of seats, but, of course, he decided to sit right next to me. Why do people do this? If I had a choice, I'd sit by myself.
He had a ponytail and the same getup as unicorn tattoo man - black jeans, black top, black cap.
He turned to me and said "Are you going far?"
I let him know I was going to the end of the bus route and he informed me that he was going to be sleeping.
Why not sit near a window then? I don't understand people.
I keep thinking I should save some of the interesting characters for when there's a lull in crazy bus people, but I don't see that day coming anytime soon.
A few days ago, I was sitting on the bus home. I'm sneaky and I walk a bit farther to go to one of the earlier, less busy stops. Because of this, I almost always get the seat I want. Gives me a sense of victory at the end of a long, boring day at school.
I got the perfect seat - the one right beside the window, across from the back door - and I was getting ready to pull out my iPod and phone and get settled for the ride.
The bus pulled up to the busy stop and a wave of people rushed in.
One of the first guys on the bus has his pick of seats, but, of course, he decided to sit right next to me. Why do people do this? If I had a choice, I'd sit by myself.
He had a ponytail and the same getup as unicorn tattoo man - black jeans, black top, black cap.
He turned to me and said "Are you going far?"
I let him know I was going to the end of the bus route and he informed me that he was going to be sleeping.
Why not sit near a window then? I don't understand people.
2011-09-28
Officially published!
I have news.
Ready?
Ready?
Ready?
I'm getting my first story published! It may just be in the school paper, but that paper's sent to three big campuses and a mall. Good for a start! This will probably be available to more people than a tiny town paper.
Though I'm on the Arts and Entertainment beat, my story's being published in the political pull-out section. Yay! I feel special.
My story's about PC candidate Tim Hudak. He used music during his rallies from Canadian bands without asking their permission. I spoke with a media law prof, a music prof and a PC candidate. Though my sources were quite difficult to get ahold of, it all worked out.
My mom has already asked for multiple copies.. Oh, parents..
P.S. I heard a girl on the bus saying she hated another girl because "she has big, creepy eyes." How dare she have big eyes! The nerve!
Ready?
Ready?
Ready?
I'm getting my first story published! It may just be in the school paper, but that paper's sent to three big campuses and a mall. Good for a start! This will probably be available to more people than a tiny town paper.
Though I'm on the Arts and Entertainment beat, my story's being published in the political pull-out section. Yay! I feel special.
My story's about PC candidate Tim Hudak. He used music during his rallies from Canadian bands without asking their permission. I spoke with a media law prof, a music prof and a PC candidate. Though my sources were quite difficult to get ahold of, it all worked out.
My mom has already asked for multiple copies.. Oh, parents..
P.S. I heard a girl on the bus saying she hated another girl because "she has big, creepy eyes." How dare she have big eyes! The nerve!
2011-09-23
This week on public transit...
Well, would you look at that. I haven't posted in a good while. Surprise, surprise.
Because I'm so busy/unmotivated to do anything I don't have to right now, I figured I'd combine a week's worth of crazy bus stories into one post. Surprisingly (or not?), there were plenty.
I got on the bus to go home after class and dug around for my iPod right away. I was done with people for the day and wanted to hide in my own little plugged in world for the one and a half to two hour ride. While I was looking down at my purse, a person sat in the seat directly in front of me. They had broad shoulders, a plain, white shirt and short hair. From behind, this person was androgynous, to say the least. Looking at the hair, I decided this person was a male. I started wondering if this guy was attractive (don't hate... I'm single; I can't help it). I decided to look a bit closer. There wasn't any hair/stubble on the section of the jaw I could see.. Many guys can't grow a beard. Suddenly, there was a noise near the back of the bus. The person turns around and, of course, it's a pretty girl. I swear I'm straight.
When I was nearing my bus stop, a man got up to get off a stop or so before mine. He was in his forties or fifties and was going for the tough biker look. You know the one - all black, denim and tees, tattoos, facial hair. His shirt had motorcycles on it and said "Hard and loud. It's a guy thing," for goodness sake. Thing is, if you're going to go for it, go for it. This man got up, using the overhead, horizontal pole to assist him. To my surprise, on his right arm is a tattoo of a unicorn... Let me repeat that: A majestic, in-every-little-girl's-dreams, mystical, fairytale UNICORN.
While waiting for the bus, one young man took out a guitar and started playing and singing out loud. Congrats on being able to play and I'm glad you're having fun singing your little heart out, but I'm not really interested in listening.. Thanks. He wasn't even busking! There was no money, just noise disturbance.
After getting on the bus to go to school, I looked out the window. Standing there was a young man (in his late teens or early twenties, I'd say) with a girl of similar age. Both looked completely normal except for one thing: the guy was holding a big, ratty-looking stuffed animal beaver.. As far as I remember, that was all he had with him. I thought this was just strange and mentioned it to a friend. She told me I had been looking at Mel Gibson.
Because I'm so busy/unmotivated to do anything I don't have to right now, I figured I'd combine a week's worth of crazy bus stories into one post. Surprisingly (or not?), there were plenty.
I got on the bus to go home after class and dug around for my iPod right away. I was done with people for the day and wanted to hide in my own little plugged in world for the one and a half to two hour ride. While I was looking down at my purse, a person sat in the seat directly in front of me. They had broad shoulders, a plain, white shirt and short hair. From behind, this person was androgynous, to say the least. Looking at the hair, I decided this person was a male. I started wondering if this guy was attractive (don't hate... I'm single; I can't help it). I decided to look a bit closer. There wasn't any hair/stubble on the section of the jaw I could see.. Many guys can't grow a beard. Suddenly, there was a noise near the back of the bus. The person turns around and, of course, it's a pretty girl. I swear I'm straight.
When I was nearing my bus stop, a man got up to get off a stop or so before mine. He was in his forties or fifties and was going for the tough biker look. You know the one - all black, denim and tees, tattoos, facial hair. His shirt had motorcycles on it and said "Hard and loud. It's a guy thing," for goodness sake. Thing is, if you're going to go for it, go for it. This man got up, using the overhead, horizontal pole to assist him. To my surprise, on his right arm is a tattoo of a unicorn... Let me repeat that: A majestic, in-every-little-girl's-dreams, mystical, fairytale UNICORN.
While waiting for the bus, one young man took out a guitar and started playing and singing out loud. Congrats on being able to play and I'm glad you're having fun singing your little heart out, but I'm not really interested in listening.. Thanks. He wasn't even busking! There was no money, just noise disturbance.
After getting on the bus to go to school, I looked out the window. Standing there was a young man (in his late teens or early twenties, I'd say) with a girl of similar age. Both looked completely normal except for one thing: the guy was holding a big, ratty-looking stuffed animal beaver.. As far as I remember, that was all he had with him. I thought this was just strange and mentioned it to a friend. She told me I had been looking at Mel Gibson.
(pic from popcrunch.com)
2011-09-15
Guess who's horrible at keeping up with blogs
I am!
I really need to stick with a blog. Too bad my attention with blogs only tends to last so long. Guess I feel weird talking to myself. SOMEONE LET ME KNOW THIS IS BEING READ!
I've realized reviews may not be the right path for me; I didn't keep up!
I figure a blog where I complain about my middle class woes might be updated more often. Feel sorry for me.
I'm currently in my second year of a journalism program and it is insane. I have eight full-time classes AND I have to write one article for the school paper every week. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. That article requires at least three sources (interviews with people in person or over the phone), eight photos and unbiased facts. Thing is, people take forever to get ahold of and when you do get in contact, many don't know anything or don't want to answer questions.
Why do people hate us journalists? We're just trying to uncover all of your dirty secrets and let anyone with the ability to read know them. Don't hate me 'cause I write.
How do I get to school, you ask? (Okay, you didn't ask and you probably don't care, but you get to know anyways!) I take good ol' public transit for about two hours each way.
Two hours?! Four hours a day?! Yes. Take pity on me.
Though I plug myself into my iPod or catch up on school readings, I keep my eyes (and, unfortunately, nose) open. That is, unless I fall asleep... Unfortunately a common occurrence.
I've seen/smelled/touched-without-permission some of the weirdest people around. I swear all the creepers come out when the buses show up.
I shall share my tales of horror, hilarity and just plain nastiness and you shall enjoy them immensely.. If I actually keep up with this... Oops.
I really need to stick with a blog. Too bad my attention with blogs only tends to last so long. Guess I feel weird talking to myself. SOMEONE LET ME KNOW THIS IS BEING READ!
I've realized reviews may not be the right path for me; I didn't keep up!
I figure a blog where I complain about my middle class woes might be updated more often. Feel sorry for me.
I'm currently in my second year of a journalism program and it is insane. I have eight full-time classes AND I have to write one article for the school paper every week. Sounds easy, right? Wrong. That article requires at least three sources (interviews with people in person or over the phone), eight photos and unbiased facts. Thing is, people take forever to get ahold of and when you do get in contact, many don't know anything or don't want to answer questions.
Why do people hate us journalists? We're just trying to uncover all of your dirty secrets and let anyone with the ability to read know them. Don't hate me 'cause I write.
How do I get to school, you ask? (Okay, you didn't ask and you probably don't care, but you get to know anyways!) I take good ol' public transit for about two hours each way.
Two hours?! Four hours a day?! Yes. Take pity on me.
Though I plug myself into my iPod or catch up on school readings, I keep my eyes (and, unfortunately, nose) open. That is, unless I fall asleep... Unfortunately a common occurrence.
I've seen/smelled/touched-without-permission some of the weirdest people around. I swear all the creepers come out when the buses show up.
I shall share my tales of horror, hilarity and just plain nastiness and you shall enjoy them immensely.. If I actually keep up with this... Oops.
2011-04-06
TTC = Woe is me
So, I don't live in Toronto, but I've been taking rides with the TTC (Toronto Transit.. commission? council? crap?) lately.
You'd think such a big city would be able to fix things up with transit, but nope. Of course, Toronto elects Ford as mayor too. That'll sure help (if there was an "I'm really stupid with my crossed eyes and tongue sticking out" icon, I'd probably insert it now).
Firstly, how in the world do you read a TTC transfer (from a bus, not a subway station)? Random numbers, letters and symbols. They rip it in a certain spot. Can bus drivers/subway workers even read these things? Every time I hold one up, the TTC workers don't even seem to look at them. What is this nonsense? I bet I could carry the same transfer around for months and not one person would notice. I should do that. Damn you, Toronto. You don't deserve my $3 (Xhowever many rides I take).
Secondly, TTC bus drivers seem to be extra pissy. Yes, many riders are psychotic, prissy prissfaces, or annoying as hell, but I'm not! You didn't even give me a chance to be nice and friendly. I don't even know why I say thanks when getting off buses... Doesn't help anything... I suppose the way I get off through the front doors just cancels out my niceness though... hm..
My last points are for buses all over the place:
Why in the world is the bus you're waiting for always the last one to show up? I could see the 191 everyday, all day, then when I need it, it takes five hours. WHY? When I want the 191, you know that rare 648791 bus is going to come by five times. The transit commissions do it on purpose, I assure you.
This one isn't about the actual buses, but the riders. When someone beside you wants to get off the bus, why in the world would you turn your body into the aisle? They still have to squish their behinds right past your side. Do you want my bag and/or behind to smack your shoulder on the way out? Really? 'Cause I'll do it. You asked for it. Also, when I've contorted the hell outta that row, how am I supposed to walk down the aisle with your gigantic calves blocking my way? Exactly.
I would also really appreciate not having your crotch in my face when you're standing. Stand back, please and thank you.
BTW, I'm listening to Julia Nunes while writing this. Just thought you should all know. I should probably write a rave on the good musicians I've discovered on YouTube (Go away, Biebs. You ruined YouTube, Canada, music and my life).
You'd think such a big city would be able to fix things up with transit, but nope. Of course, Toronto elects Ford as mayor too. That'll sure help (if there was an "I'm really stupid with my crossed eyes and tongue sticking out" icon, I'd probably insert it now).
Firstly, how in the world do you read a TTC transfer (from a bus, not a subway station)? Random numbers, letters and symbols. They rip it in a certain spot. Can bus drivers/subway workers even read these things? Every time I hold one up, the TTC workers don't even seem to look at them. What is this nonsense? I bet I could carry the same transfer around for months and not one person would notice. I should do that. Damn you, Toronto. You don't deserve my $3 (Xhowever many rides I take).
Secondly, TTC bus drivers seem to be extra pissy. Yes, many riders are psychotic, prissy prissfaces, or annoying as hell, but I'm not! You didn't even give me a chance to be nice and friendly. I don't even know why I say thanks when getting off buses... Doesn't help anything... I suppose the way I get off through the front doors just cancels out my niceness though... hm..
My last points are for buses all over the place:
Why in the world is the bus you're waiting for always the last one to show up? I could see the 191 everyday, all day, then when I need it, it takes five hours. WHY? When I want the 191, you know that rare 648791 bus is going to come by five times. The transit commissions do it on purpose, I assure you.
This one isn't about the actual buses, but the riders. When someone beside you wants to get off the bus, why in the world would you turn your body into the aisle? They still have to squish their behinds right past your side. Do you want my bag and/or behind to smack your shoulder on the way out? Really? 'Cause I'll do it. You asked for it. Also, when I've contorted the hell outta that row, how am I supposed to walk down the aisle with your gigantic calves blocking my way? Exactly.
I would also really appreciate not having your crotch in my face when you're standing. Stand back, please and thank you.
BTW, I'm listening to Julia Nunes while writing this. Just thought you should all know. I should probably write a rave on the good musicians I've discovered on YouTube (Go away, Biebs. You ruined YouTube, Canada, music and my life).
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