I was "Idle", and when I decided to go straight home, I stared at an old man sitting adjacent to me on the bus the whole time, who seemingly had no trouble sleeping despite the very...bulbous* lady swaying into his side with every stop and start and a man's cellphone that kept going off, which he did not even attend to, being plugged into max level Metallica on his iPod. This old man didn't even notice any of it.
I was 80% interested in the folds of wrinkles on this old man's face, and in hindsight, I was probably subconsciously mapping out how I would render it with charcoal on mid-tone paper, with respect to the jarring neon light accentuating his waxy cheekbones--as per usual when I have the opportunity to stare at someone who doesn't know I am staring at them. I left 20% of my attention out of this description, because there was something else that kind of annoyed me. I was thinking, in some way I wanted to be numb the way he obviously was. I don't really care about the swaying lady or the ipod/cellphone-incoherent man, but my thoughts** were starting to buzz into my head, and I couldn't.. not think them. They demanded me to think about them. And they kind of just accumulated into this (I want to relate this somehow to those psyballs of energy from Dragon Ball Z, a show which I have NEVER watched) sore thing.
The surprise end-of-the-rainbow point of this story, is that I am miserable and creatively uninspired, and I love my friends, and I love life, but just not when old men remind me, in a round-about way, that my thoughts can metaphorically be related to misquitos buzzing in my brain.
*bulbous is a lovely word Meagan in the ID shop used today, describing the rounded nature of the construction toys Adrien and me are building, but a whole slew of possibilities opened up for me in all the ways that I could use it. Bulbous is such a satisfying word! (just say it aloud)
**thoughts in the context of this post equal 'troubles', and troubles can equal emotional stresses, relationship confusion, undecidedness, and to-do lists. (the later being the most horrid)