I have always depended on the kindness of strangers....or something like that

Ever have one of those weeks where you realize karma/the world/your god may be trying to humble you?

This has been one of those weeks for me.....

On Wednesday I went to my new uber expensive, far too posh and completely unaffordable gym. It was beautiful. Each machine has a television built into it (look at my carbon footprint skyrocket), the changing rooms are really pretty, there's free internet access and of course, there's the 'shaker plates' (power plates to be exact). However the gym is not conveniently located and really it's going to be a b*tch trying to use it on public transport alone. As I found out....I hoped a bus and was told that it 'kinda went past Bramley', so I decided to take a chance. Bad move. Where the bus should have entered Bramley it veered right into another neighbourhood known as Farsley (or something like that). Except the road to Farsley is between a river bank and another hill, so it takes a bit to actually get anywhere. So I panicked and pressed the button and was promptly dropped off at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. So I got off and walked back to the main area (about a 5 minute walk) and started climbing the hill to the next bus stop. I texted to find out when the next bus would appear and it was 25 minutes, and not even a bus that was going 'my way'. Then it started to rain. I trudged onwards and upwards, feeling mightly sorry for myself. And then, I heard a bus behind me. I looked around and there was the '49' - the bus I needed, and here's me, nowhere near a bus stop. As the 49 rolled past, I threw my hands up in dispair, pissed off at this turn of events.

And then the brake lights shone through the dark night and the bus stopped in the middle of the road. And I ran up, not quite sure to believe what had happened. And the nicest bus driver in the world let me on...and I will always have a soft spot in my heart for him.

Today I walked to the train station in the cold rain. The train was crammed, as per usual, so I had to stand, as per usual. Unfortunatley for me, I felt a lovely hypoglycemia attack coming on. I tried to 'breathe it out' - that didn't work. I squatted, pretending to look for something in my bag, and that helped. But as soon as I stood up to get off the train, the dizziness washed over me. I walked to the chairs on the platform, desperate to sit down. I did. I waited five minutes, breathing and plotting my next move. I was on a platform with no candy machine or muffin shop, which meant no access to sugar. Sweet sweet sugar, the food of life, or at least one in which you don't go dizzy and pass out.

I thought I could make it to the lift (elevator) and then to the starbucks for some sort of croissant or danish (tasty). I started walking and realised, nope, can't make it to the lift. I turned back and realised I couldn't make it back to the chairs. So I squatted against a wall (I hate the term squat because it just reminds me of peeing in a bush). And then, two sweet angles - a couple about 55ish, came up and asked if I was ok. I couldn't really see them (due to blurred vision as I was recovering from almost passing out), and I said I was 'fine, just having a bit of a low blood sugar attack'. They asked if I had anything to drink on me, and I said no, and then he said, 'here, have my orange juice'. And he handed me this litre of orange juice, which was clearly packed for the picnic they were going to have on their day out. I took it and had to chug from the bottle, and they made sure I was doing ok before they panicked about catching their next train. I desperately tried to give them money for the orange juice (since they didn't exactly want it back), but they refused and went off.

So yeah, somehow or another, I'm being humbled. And I got some tasty orange juice for free out of it all....

:)

Mother Dearest

Monday. It didn't matter that I had managed to get away earlier than usual from work and felt mildly liberated because of it, it still felt like a long day. Switching from one train to the next, I squeezed myself between the luggage shelves near the door rather than walk further into the carriage to grab a seat. I sat, swinging my legs, and resting my head, counting down the minutes till I would be walking home.

Beside me, a mother stood, leaning down on the buggy holding her son, about one. In tow was son two, about three. Assuming the worst, as I always do, when it comes to public transportation families during rush hour, I closed my eyes and willed myself away from the situation. I suppose the shiny puff bomber jacket with the accompanying gold hoops and tight pony tail were more the reason for the need to escape, but the kids still didn't seem promising.

However, I was proved quite wrong. The three year old, being a three year old, felt the need to explore and play. When permitted he explored the bits of paper left on the floor and excitidely showed his finds to his younger brother. Perhaps the cutest part of these adventures were his ruffled blonde hair and big smile, complimented by his argyle print sweater over his button up top - sooooo adorable. However, while he was having fun and not in any way annoying any of the disgruntled, child hating commuters, his mother was having none of it. Instead, she would hiss, 'SSSit down'....then smile politely to the rest of us, as if showing us her parenting skills.

As the train pulled away from the station, the three-year old turned his attention to the passing scenery. Soon the modern flats gave way to the rows upon rows of brick rowhouses, and the boy excitedly perked up....

'Mommy Mommy, are we going to go see Daddy? Are we going to where Daddy lives? Is that where Daddy lives? Does he live there? Where's Daddy? Do we get to see Daddy?'

To which Mommy replies, 'Shut up. Sit down. We aren't going to go see Daddy'.

The excitement fading, the little boy, turns from the window and, innocence boy wonder voice immediately replaced with impersonating Mommy voice of,

'No. We don't get to go see fucking Daddy. Fucking Daddy isn't around. It's because we're bastards. No seeing fucking Daddy today, not for little bastards.'

...true story....i kid you not.

I suppose the saddest part of this tale is that these cute little boys will, in ten years time, be terrorizing the streets and wearing their ASBOs with pride....

The dangers that lurk outside

I'm always interested in what brings fear into this world and how people respond to it. Recently I was at a research report launch (exciting days I tell you) whereby the researchers found that many people feel that Leeds is an unsafe city and feel fear in it at dark. This astounded me as I find Leeds to be quite safe and friendly - especially compared to other places. Anyways the fear that people hold thereby prevents them from venturing into the city or considering it as a place to live.

In much the same way many people fear travel as they think that places aren't safe enough, or that a terrorist is going to target them specifically, etc. After 9-11 so many people were afraid of flying, where I thought it had to be the safest time to fly; if only I could have afforded to! So I've always questioned people's unjustified fears. At the very least, a fear should be justified, based on a personal, or semi-personal account. For example, a friend of mine who was held at gun point near Georgetown was a bit reluctant to head out for a few weeks after the incident - which was a very rational emotion...in time, she did and overcame it. However, she had a REASON to be afraid.

Now many people have asked me how I enjoy where I work, and whether it is a good place to work. I've always said it was a great place and it was in a decent community whereby the shops are all at hand and everything is accessible. I will stand by this statement, though I must change my attitude to the community itself. For today, I was a victim of a random act of violence, inflicted on me, during the final stages of my commute to work.

I had just exited the train and was taking a short cut through the parking lot. Some people think it is unsafe to walk through parking lots unaccompanied - and until today, I thought that was a load of bollocks. About half way through the parking lot, I felt an undescribable amount of pain, seering through my foot. I tried to shake the pain but it was definate, not a foot cramp setting in.

I gasped out loud, the pain was so intense. Yet nothing seemed amiss in the surroundings. I looked down at my foot and saw nothing, but the pain was still there. I kicked off my shoe and yanked up the hem of my pants, and saw the perp. Dressed in yellow and black, tiny, small insignificant, obviously feeling a need to show off what he's got...

I gasped again, the pain of the sharp point stabbing through my foot. I bent over and swiped the pesky attacker aside and grabbed my foot. I hopped. I realized I looked silly. I gasped again. I put my shoe back on and limped on...no one was going to get the satisfaction of slowing me down. I winced...the pain throbbing....

Let this be a lesson - there are dangers out there that you can't avoid...sometimes random acts of violence occur and you are caught in the crossfire...like I was today. I sit at my desk, wounded, wondering 'what if'....'what if my train had been late'....'what if I had worn a skirt and not long pants', 'what if I hadn't chosen the shortcut'....so many 'what ifs', yet in the end, only the truth...

my foot will be a testimony for all time of the evil world that is...

This is unfortunate

The incident is of course, horrific and horrible and I feel sorry for the family. But as a casual obsever of the event, it is somewhat funny when one reads of the nature of the death alongside its location (Link)

Sask. man dies in tree-cutting accident
A man in Cut Knife, Sask., is dead after a tree he was cutting behind his house fell on him.

The Return of Thump

It happened again. Except this was different.

Sitting cross legged in my office chair. My co-worker is giggling about an internet site.

I push out from my desk to go have a look.

Something goes wrong. Terribly wrong.

My chair wheels don't react to force of the push. They remain implanted.

My upper torso, forced back, causes unbalance.

Oh so slowly...the momentum tips back....

Falling down...backwards...in my chair.

My co-worker and I are laughing...nothing can stop this...it's so fucking embarassing.

I'm down...I'm down on the ground. Lying in the chair...tears streaming...tooo fucking embarassing...to fucking funny.

I have fallen. Again.

Crashing Down

so yeah. I just made a complete ass of myself.

I got up to open the blinds.

My foot was asleep.

I was wearing heels.

My foot turned.

I fell - On my knees.

HR came running to see what happened.

My colleagues laughed.

All I can think about is how ungraceful I fell and the thud that emerged..and how my fat A$$ was perched in the air...oh the shame!