Violated!

so this morning i mosied on over to go through the morning ritual that helps make my day faceable. i typed my blog address: amo-et-odi.blogspot.com and clicked enter. as the page loaded, i moved my mouse over to the right side of the page so i would be ready to clink on the links and instead i received a message. my blog had been disabled! Disabled! what was that about? there was a blurb about my perhaps violating the terms of service. what had i done? i know sometimes i go off on a rant or two but doesn't everyone? what was i to do?

my voyage of clicking on links led me back to my email account. i was prompted to enter my password and the response to my efforts was - your account has been disabled. Disabled? and after that was a little blurb on "suspicious activity" with respect to my account. i wasn't even using my account over the weekend so how could have been suspicious? briefly i wondered if i had indulged in any sleep-internet-surfing but i can barely surf when awake and so i doubt i would have the skills to do it in my sleep. so, this left only one thing... some nefarious somebody had broken into my account and was using it for their own evil deeds. how dare they? what kind of person does that? how do they live with themselves? they used my account to send out spam to friends who were probably now cursing me for filling their inboxes with nonsense. it was almost as though someone had walked into my apartment (without my permission) rifled through my drawers and left graffiti on my walls. and people coming over to visit would tsk tsk over the marred walls and would barely believe me when i said - i didn't do it! some stranger came in and did it! oh you hackers and spammers! shame on you.

shame on you even more for forcing me to have to prove that i am me, forcing me to reset my password and come up with something complicated enough that i'm bound to forget it at least once a month. but you haven't beaten me yet. and hopefully for the next couple of weeks, at least, the World Cup will keep you away from me. the next game is up soon...

Summer's In The Air

so, this is how it happens...

a train pulled up and, in pavlovian mode, you hopped in. maybe you came running down the stairs and barely made it through the doors or, perhaps, you were exhausted after a long day at work and didn't give stepping in a second thought. it was rush hour and yet the car was suprisingly empty - there were empty seats all over the place - in fact almost the entire car was empty. fantastic, you thought, you'll be getting a seat all the way home. and then a thought makes it way through the tired fog covering your brain - how can this be? how can you have so many seats during rush hour? a moment too late you realise that there is something wrong. something terribly wrong. you lurch towards the train doors but reach them just as they squeak shut. you are trapped. you try not to, but you have to inhale.

and nearly pass out. the stench seems to be an impossibility. what could have come together to create this toxic odour? you look around and spot the mass of garbage bags piled around a seat and, in the middle of it all, a grey form. it is always grey colour cannot live among such smells. it dies and leaves behind only its shadow - like ashes after a cremation. you see a few people huddled on the opposite end of the train car. they are they ones who have decided they are going to try to survive the ride, in the name of a seat. their feet hurt enough that they are willing to let some nose hairs get burnt away for a little bit of rest. and then, there are those like you, squeezed against the train doors, trying (without any luck) to take in wisps of air from the tunnel outside. others try to find a scarf, sweater or piece of tissue to breathe into, hoping that the material will filter the poison out of the air. you all just have to last until the next stop. then you can dash out and run to the next car.

you make it and as you make your escape, and breathe in the less poisonous air of the subway, you see others jump on, lunge towards the empty seats. you see that familiar look of relief turn into horror as the train doors close...

It Could Be Worse

my fellow travellers,
you know how you get up and get dressed and grab your keys to leave your home? and then you step out your door onto the street? and suddenly, like a miracle, you are out in public? and then you walk however many blocks it takes to get to the subway station and hop onto your train? well, guess what? strange as it may seem, you are still in public. i think, perhaps, that is one of the reasons they call it public transport. and all those strangers standing (or lucky enough to sit) around you - well they are part of the public.

so, why all these rudimentary lessons in the lines between public and private? because it appears too many have no idea. none whatsoever. it's like walking stepping into the (hopefully) temperature-controlled car and hearing the words "stand clear of the closing doors, please" feels like walking into one's bedroom. as the doors close, the toiletry bags zip open and all manner of items come out. there is the flossing of teeth, and the cutting and painting of nails. toenails are not excluded. there is the brushing of hair, with absolutely no regard for those who have the unfortunate fate of swallowing stray hairs. and there is a the full make up session. the other day a woman pulled out a spoon from her bag, which she then used to curl her eyelashes. a spoon.

so i see people that i don't know from adam, getting themselves ready to go out in public and i want to tap them on the shoulder and say - you know you're already there, right? i understand that things are tough in the morning. odds are you haven't had enough sleep and have had to drag yourself out of a comfortable bed to face the drudgery of another workday. perchance you have decided to sleep in an extra 30 minutes and that has resulted in your not having the time to do a lot of prettying up before stepping out. but, let me in on something - if you feel that you are presentable enough for the blocks between your home and the subway, if you feel you are presentable enough to get into a subway car, you are presentable enough for the rest of the ride and presentable enough until you find the privacy of a restroom or an office marked "private".

or you may find youself being tapped on the shoulder by a stranger, and member of the public, which may scare you and smudge your mascara (or very smelly nail polish), who will say, "hello! you're not alone. we are here and we are the public!"