When it Rains, It Pours

Well… It has officially happened...

I HAVE BEEN STABBED ON THE STREETS OF PITTSBURGH.

That’s right, my faithful readers, innocent little me had a very painful encounter at the end of a very annoying and soggy morning. Momma said that there’d be days like this…

I woke up as my alarm blared for the fourth or fifth time – DON’T JUDGE! I’m a snoozer to the max – so much so that I actually set my alarm extra early so I can snooze a few times and still get up at the time I originally intend (please do NOT send me messages about how this doesn’t make sense if I want to maximize my sleep time – I never have claimed to be a rational thinker). Like most Mondays, I started to mentally blurt out vocabulary that rarely finds its way into the corners of my mind during the daylight hours. (And I’m not even talking about the 4-lettered type here… when I’m really grumpy, I start thinking random phrases like “I rue the day” and “This is an abomination” and “Bloody nightmarish morning." That’s right – I turn into a faux-British pretentious weirdo when I get up in the wee hours of the morning… Its ugly.) The rain was pouring out my window… and snot was pouring over my sinuses – it was pretty clear I was going to have a case of the Monday Blues. But, alas! (uh oh, theres my inner Brit again!), I dragged myself from bed and got on with the day.

Mini-Disaster #1: I DREAM of the day I can sincerely use the word “frugal” to describe myself. However; in all honesty I am frivolous and prone to “treating myself” far too often for it to be considered a “treat.” But I have, of late, been known to get up a little early to spend the time brewing my own coffee to save a few bucks on a regular basis (especially now that I’m living on a student’s non-salary). I was all proud of myself for my efforts and my perfectly sealed thermos cup this morning… so proud, in fact, that I left the cup on the counter as I walked outside with lofty thoughts of my own penny-saving efforts. Needless to say – 6 blocks of bus ride later, I let out another “I rue the day.” Now my bank account is $2.80 thinner and I have a cold cup of coffee on the counter.

Mini-Disaster #2: My morning bus is awful. There are very few buses that run from my side of town straight to the heart of Pittsburgh’s college center… so I start each morning getting groped and prodded by people just as unhappy to be next to me as I am to be felt-up by them. (In case you missed it, you can catch up on my previous thoughts of the joys of over-packed buses HERE). This morning was no exception – and just as I breathed a sigh of relief as I made my way to the front of the bus at my stop, the driver started speeding away before I even had a chance to make my way to the front. “No, STOP!” I yelled – only to be given dirty looks by fellow passengers. As I rode 3 extra blocks to the next stop, my mind RACED with potential messages I could hand to the driver as I exited – “You know, you shouldn’t ignore people when they scream for a bus stop.” “Glad you made that green light, you jerk?” “Last time I checked, this wasn’t a prison bus – why can’t I leave when I want?” But, as I brushed past his elevated ergonomic chair, all I could manage was an out loud “Thanks” - followed by a “This is an abomination” said silently in my head.

The ULTIMATE Mini-Disaster: Hustling the extra three blocks back to my end of campus, I prayed that the rain would stay at a drizzle since I had left my umbrella at home with my coffee. As to be expected on a college campus on a rainy day, the streets were packed with brightly colored rubber and plastic boots. “Jealous!” I thought – though in all reality I know that even if I did own a pair, I would probably never wear them for fear of looking like an idiot when the sun came out later. And just as I was finishing thoughts of jealousy, I went for the sidewalk pedestrian pass. Do you know what I’m talking about here? Those moments where you get caught behind some slow-walker who is apparently out for a casual stroll at the PRECISE moment when your bus driver decided to take you for an extra 3-block ride and you are late for class? Its not always an easy thing to gracefully maneuver around a slow-walker – You don’t want to look like a jerk and you certainly don’t want to get caught in a head-on collision if you judge their pace incorrectly. And, it was just as I was thinking all this though and making my move to the right that…

I WAS STABBED.

This slow-walking man, out on his morning stroll, was so happy that he was swinging his arms WITH an umbrella in hand. And not just ANY umbrella… but the sharp-ended pointy kind that could double as a bbq skewer in a pinch. It pierced my stomach (and by “pierced” I really mean more like “poked”)… and as I lowered my gaze to check for blood, I realized he hadn’t even NOTICED his attack! (or, at least, was trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed). All I could do was hurry off to class as I muttered “Bloody nightmarish morning…”

The WEIRDEST part of my brush with death (are you enjoying the hyperbole yet?) is that my BFF, The Closet Dork predicted the danger of such umbrellas MONTHS ago! Don’t believe me? Here is the blog to prove it:

http://misstomaamblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/fair-weather-friend.html

So, dear readers, be on alert! You too could be a victim as you strut in your colorful galoshes!

If You've Got it, Flaunt It

One day this summer as I left my office building, I found myself greeted with a bizarre and unrecognizable noise as I pushed my way through the revolving door. Because it seemed so loud, it took my brain a few seconds to place it – Is that an alarm? Cell phone? Screaming Cat?

Nope. It was just a guy singing – and singing very enthusiastically.

Now, you may think that since my brain came to associations like “screaming cat” before I saw him that he was probably pretty awful - but, not so! He had the bravado and volume that brought true life to the Mariah Carey song he was belting. And, with the dance moves he was so unashamedly performing, he was probably good enough for some local stages (Pittsburgh Idol, perhaps?). But, here he was, outside of the US Steel Building, dancing and singing along to the song pumping through his iPod earbuds.

As I got closer, I couldn’t help but stare. “Is he a street performer?” -- No… hes not in a performance location and has no hat or cup begging for my spare change. “Is he mentally ill?” -- Doesn’t seem to be. “Are his headphones so loud that he doesn’t know how loud he is singing?” – Certainly not! The more I examined this wandering minstrel, the more I became convinced that he was just singing for the heck of it. He must LOVE singing – and he must KNOW that he is good (how else could he be seemingly free of public shame or embarrassment?). And he must just LOVE to share his gift!

I stood there admiring his gusto, but I couldn’t help but notice that everyone else was staring with the same amount of confusion I had had just a few moment before. There were whispers, eye rolls, blatant laughs and points. But, NOTHING affected the Pittsburgh Idol.

As he came back around to the chorus in an elevated key (“And then a hero COMES along, with the strength to carry on…”), my mind wandered to imagine a utopia where everyone in the world shared their gifts and loves on the streets. In my head --- people were dancing their way to the bus stop, sketching my picture as they wait in line at the bank, holding debates in the aisles of the grocery store, helping me put together trendy outfits as I window shopped, and balancing my checkbook for me at church. And it was JUST as Pittsburgh Idol finished his last note that I was drawn from my daydream with the very scary thought that I had NO idea what talent or gift I would be sharing on the streets in this world.

What am I good at? What do I love? What are my gifts? What is wrong with me that I can't seem to find easy answers to these questions at the age of 25?

I guess I can only hope to someday have the guts to sing on the streets for no reason. Oh, but don’t worry, I most certainly mean that in the figurative sense.

Sometimes life just takes over, goes into hyper-drive, and spins you around for a few months. That’s been my experience since mid-July (hence, no blogging and very little contact with even my best friends – sad.). I’ve felt like I’m in the spin cycle of the washing machine, just waiting for the buzzer to go off so I can settle down and process a little. And, what I am learning is that I have to be intentional about slowing things down yourself. If you wait for life or the world to spit you out – you may be spinning on and on way longer than you would like. And all this busy-ness without venting has me feeling all bottled up – with thoughts and reflections swimming around in my head, but never communicated.

Which, reminds me why I created this blog in the first place – as an outlet and tool for reflection. Revelling, Reckoning, and Rambling are three processes that there have been FAR to little of in recent weeks (well…. Maybe I’ve still done plenty of Rambling, come to think of it). And – I gues what I’m saying is…. I’m working on it.

So, this is my official announcement that I’ve returned. My cell phone is back on and receiving calls (It seems that my friends have LITERALLY given up on calling me – and, I honestly don’t blame them), my inbox is ready for messages, my social calendar is ready to be filled (wow – that makes me sound pathetic), and my blog MAY actually be a place where there is something to read again.

Heres to the best of intentions!