Metro

I have to take the metro to work every morning, which at first felt very official and "honest, hard-working contributor to society"-esque. I got over that pretty quickly. Something that I enjoy is subway watching; namely observing those around me instead of listening to my headphones or reading a book as most do. People watching is more interesting when you are trapped with a certain group of people around you as opposed to watching people walk by, trying to catch the interesting or humorous snapshots of their lives. I often wonder if, while watching me, people feel that they have caught a glimpse into my life. I wonder what unintentionally humorous comments I've made just before stepping off a subway.

Today, going home I had the pleasure of sitting just behind a family of young parents and their two little girls. One of the girls was all over the place. She didn't want to sit unless it was on her father's lap, and when she finally got comfortable, it was time to stand up until her mother asked her to sit down again. Eventually her father grabbed her, plopped her on the seat next to him, held her close to him and started speaking softly into her ear, over her hair, in Spanish. The girl switched easily from English to Spanish, just as her father had done.

"!Claro que si!" the little girl said, in response to her father. Her mother looked down, "Claro que NO."

It made me laugh in surprise to see how this family had raised their little girl to switch back and forth between languages, speaking both with a beautiful, natural accent. I gathered that the father was Hispanic, mother Caucasian.

Raising children to be bilingual is one of the best gifts a person could give, if he or she was lucky enough to offer it. Hopefully someday American schools will actually prioritize learning a second language, as opposed to just relying on English being the international accepted language.

Other than my small judgmental rant, the girl was darling, and I fell as in love with that family as a person could with a grand total of 8 minutes spent observing.

Spit

In line this morning, the rain was doing what I affectionately like to call, "spitting." This is when, instead of nice fat rain droplets that obey the laws of gravity, the rain blows in the direction of your face, wherever may be. It is light, and obnoxious, and I don't really think it's worthy of being called "rain." When I ask what the weather is like outside when it's spitting rain, I don't want to hear, "It's raining," I want to hear, "It's annoying." That would be a better description.

Back to waiting in line. The man behind me was holding a large umbrella that was keeping most of the rain away, though only a complete body-encompassing shield could have worked with this stuff. I suppose he noticed that he was a gentlemen with an umbrella, surrounded by a few ladies sans umbrella, because offered to place it over the head of the woman behind him. It was quite endearing that he decided to extend an old-fashioned courtesy, and I smiled to myself as I walked in my building, glad I witnessed a little act of kindness.

When the majority of what I hear about in news, stories, etc., revolves around error, insufficiency and conflict, sometimes I forget that normal, and by normal I mean kind, people are out there. Good things happen too. It's funny how our news sources report mostly on everything bad that is happening, and generally have one little time designated to "the good life," or whatever they choose to call it. Aren't our victories and simple pleasures just as important to report as the little failures and petty occurrences? I'd like to think so.

So this is my news flash for the day: Man saves dying chivalry by holding umbrella for woman standing behind him. And he didn't even ask for her number.

In the oven

Soon, wafting through the air like fairies in a dream, will be the sweet smell of baking chocolate-chip cookies. I lick the remnants of the cookie dough from my wooden spoon.


So I think for now, the easier way for me to write this blog is to tell one story a day. I'll stick with that trend for a while, until different inspiration strikes. Maybe this will turn into the 'one story per day' blog, or some such thing.

I was reading the paper in my office today, and came upon a humorous article about how Jersey Shore star "Snooki" endorsed John McCain, "cause ya know...he's cute and I like it when he gives speeches." The article tried to justify itself as legitimate by revolving around Snooki's tragic story of being taxed on her tanning. "Obamacare" is meaner than what cutie McCain would have done. My advice Snooki? Get a bit more sun, and a little less toxic radiation. It's getting to your eyesight. Though "McCainMcCare" sounds kinda catchy.

I laughed out loud in my office as I read. That is, until I realized I was the only one making noise. Considering how healthy and stress-relieving laughter is, it would probably be more efficient for workplaces to promote laughter. I'm sure it wouldn't be that difficult to come up with incentive devices. I think lunch break should be a ritual gathering to watch an episode of the Colbert Report. Added bonus: Natalie doesn't feel awkward when she realizes that her unexplained snorts of joy are the only sound resonating in the office.

Cheese sauce

Is there anything more glorious than the sound of rain pounding against your window, when you are warm in your robe?

The answer to that question is yes. But it's still nice.

It's interesting how one can feel particularly cozy if there are actually undesirable conditions outside, so long as one is separate from them. It reinforces the fact that even though there is snow, rain, or whatever conditions outside, one is safe, sound and surrounded by soft fabric. Even better when there is that someone to cuddle with.

(quick and awkward transition inserted here)

I don't like spending money, unless it's on coffee. Going out to dinner with a coworker today, I was excited at the prospect of the famous free soft pretzels that accompany our meal. Worcestershire sauce included. I don't like Worcestershire sauce. When our server was taking our order, he offered us our free pretzels, and asked if we would like some cheese sauce with them? On that idea like white on rice, I quickly agreed. Only to later look at the menu and realize that the "cheese sauce" was actually us ordering a full appetizer of pretzels with jalapeno cheese sauce. These pretzels were a facsimile with my almost, oh-so-sweet, free pretzels I could have gotten. Only difference was, we got some hot cheese.

Well played, Mr. Sly, Swindling Server. You have bested me and my frugality.

On the bright side, he asked me if I wanted cheese on my black-bean burger later on.

"Does it come with cheese?"

"...No."

Smiling, "No thanks!"

Touche.

Initial thoughts

I have decided somewhat late in the game to start blogging about my summer in Washington, DC. Like many others, I love to write, and desire to one day be read out of choice, as opposed to forcing my essays upon professors. Hopefully my blog will be as enjoyable for my readers to sift through as it is for me to compose. I hope to keep this blog from being just another diary of a 19 year young girl, and stick with stories, ideas, and observations. (Which might consequently turn into a diary, unfortunately.)

A funny quote I can't remember word-for-word describes the tendency for people to judge what is in other people's shopping carts when we get groceries. Ever since I heard that, I think of it when I shop, and intentionally look at what other people pick up, and introspectively judge myself on whether or not I am judging them. It's a fun game, you should try it sometime. So today at Trader Joe's, as I was in the famously winding check-out line, I peeked over at a young woman's cart parallel to mine. In it was about 10 cartons of fat-free yogurt, along with other items that were not noticeable in comparison to the copious amounts of yogurt. I realized I was judging her. Unfairly too, considering my cart was just filled with different boxes of frozen goodies. You know, food with calories? I am pretty proud about finding frozen, curried, fried rice though. Score.
Back to the lacking point in this, I thought it was interesting how I could actually care about what this woman was getting to eat. Why should I think twice about her and her yogurt eating habits? As I reached some closure about the subject, I reached to the conveniently placed stand of chocolates and picked out a $0.40 milk chocolate bar. You can't argue with that, seriously. As I dropped it in my cart, I imagined what Ms. Fat-free would think of my indulgence. Picturing her lifting her eyebrows, and possibly making some sort of huff, I felt slightly rebellious in making the decision to eat chocolate. Chocolate with full fat, full sugar, and a 100% yumminess factor.
Looking back at it, I probably formed a poor opinion of this girl I hardly knew just based on the food in her cart. It's interesting, and probably healthy, to think about how easy it is to mindlessly judge others.
So thank you, yogurt-consuming Trader Joe's shopper, for letting me subconsciously judge and then retract judgments about you, in order to take some sort of lesson out of my grocery shopping today. I wish you all the best, and enjoy the blueberry flavoring.