The other day in that same park where all crazy experiences happen, I met a man from (I think) Jamaica. He approached me and instead of saying hello, like I would to meet someone new, he asks me "Have we met before?" Great. I don't do well with lame introductions like this.
No, I'm sure we haven't.
"Well do ya have a smoke?"
Nope. Sorry.
"I can see ya busy. I don't mean to bawtha ya. I'm sorry."
No- you're not bothering me. I'm just on the phone. So I can't talk right now!
"Ok, I'll come back then."
Great.
After I'm off the phone, he returns.
"What's ya name, love?"
Oh, Molly.
"I grew up with a gawl called Molly. She be tiny. And beautiful. And I lawved her. But she gone off an got mawrried now."
And that was our interaction. And now I see him like every other day! And we always have the same conversation. He asks my name, I tell him. He tells me what a small, beautiful girl that Molly he grew up with was. Tells me how he loved her. And then we keep walking.
I think we'll be best friends someday. He's one of the only people I see consistently, strangely. I haven't had those everyday people yet: that guy on the 8:33 train with the blue book or that woman on the corner of Wabash and Roosevelt at 8:56 with her Starbucks coffee and pink razor phone. Hopefully soon. I could use some normalcy.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Jamaica or Jesus?
I went to a Jamaican festival this weekend with Brian and Jessica. I got free tickets from these guys that work next to our office- and I thought it would be incredible. While the atmosphere was great- who doesn't like people with dreads, dressed in bright colors, talking about Bob Marley like he's Mother Theresa?- the music surprised us. We stayed for a few of the bands, which ended up being gospel singers- or something like it. They just kept shouting and rapping and all I could make out was "Lawd Jesus Christ" over and over. People around us were swaying and dancing and singing. The lone 3 (cool white kids in the back): we watched awkwardly and then left during what the guy at the gate shouted was "the best part of the whole day!" He couldn't believe it. But we didn't believe him. So we left anyway.
We also watched this on Sunday:
http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/452047/Man-on-Wire/overview
It was quite good. I told Brian it had better be the best movie I had seen in a long time to pay $10 at some independent film theater just to see it. And it was. The main character challenges the viewer to live each day creatively. Not living on past successes or past ideas. But to create new adventures and dreams for today. He reminded me that I could make my life as beautiful and refreshing as I wanted. And I intend to try.
And for tonight:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0052311/trailers-screenplay-vi33489177
I doubt it will be as interesting as the night with the rain and the dancing and the Chicago movie. But, it is in the same place- so maybe the "excitement magic" hasn't worn off yet!
We also watched this on Sunday:
http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/452047/Man-on-Wire/overview
It was quite good. I told Brian it had better be the best movie I had seen in a long time to pay $10 at some independent film theater just to see it. And it was. The main character challenges the viewer to live each day creatively. Not living on past successes or past ideas. But to create new adventures and dreams for today. He reminded me that I could make my life as beautiful and refreshing as I wanted. And I intend to try.
And for tonight:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0052311/trailers-screenplay-vi33489177
I doubt it will be as interesting as the night with the rain and the dancing and the Chicago movie. But, it is in the same place- so maybe the "excitement magic" hasn't worn off yet!
Friday, August 8, 2008
Tell Me Your Story- I'm Dying to Know
Sometimes I think I have this written on my forehead. Granted, many times I'll seek after it. I meet people and ask questions, make eye contact and listen attentively. I want to know what their struggles are, where they've come from, what they hope for.
But there are some people out there that offer their story without any invitation. This happened twice the other day when I was downtown.
I had been craving McDonald's for a few weeks (don't judge me...I know you are....) and sat down next to a woman reading. Before I take my first bite of processed, fried chicken shaped like a nugget this man rams into the back of me. He's a larger man, scruffy with a loud laugh. He says "Watch out! Chunky guy coming through!" and sits next to me. Until I finished my last french fry this guy talked. I asked no questions, made no eye contact and still he continued with his slurred speech and trucker jokes. He told me every scary story from driving a truck that I never wanted to know. One involved a woman pulling up next to his truck one night in a parking lot, acting like her car didn't work, climbing into his truck with nothing but an overcoat on. Apparently she was a "hooker that was wanted by the law." Others were about wanted killers. Who tells these stories the first time they meet someone? They continued until the bits of cheeseburger stuck in his scruff and spewed on my arm were too much for me. As I was leaving, he told me to always have my cell phone with me on the road. Thanks. And then told me we'd see each other soon, because "You never know where I'll turn up. We might see each other real soon." Awesome.
Then I walk past a woman sitting on a ledge asking people for a meal. I walked by her like I do many of the people on the street. Don't they know I am only living off a stipend? I don't have a salary either. Then I realized that she wasn't asking for money, booze or time. Just a meal. Easy enough. So I went back thinking, I'll run into Potbelly and get her something and still make my train. Instead, she tells me that she can only eat certain types of food because she has no teeth and a sensitive stomach. Her story continues all the while I'm thinking about my train. I didn't have time to walk 6 blocks to the nearest whatever restaurant to get her whatever type of food, so I thrust $5 at her, apologize and run to the train. Then I wonder how many people she does that too? Everyone's in a hurry- so I doubt anyone agrees to walk 1/2 a mile to the restaurant. I'm mad at her- beggar's can't be choosers- right? Somewhere in the midst of our conversation I forgot she was capable of having an opinion- I don't even like Potbelly's. But all I could think was "She should eat whatever I give her, because she's lucky I even stopped." Oh brother. In my mind, she's not even a person. Just an annoyance that took up too much time and my $5 (which could get me a fast-n-fresh pizza that would last for 2 meals)! Who have I become?
People and their stories. I suppose everyone you meet has one, but we're too busy to hear them. I blame it on technology and our equating time with money. Maybe. Or maybe we just don't want to know that people can't afford to eat or that truck drivers have no one to talk to (so when they do have someone to talk to, they have to tell them everything). I don't know.
But I do know that I need to practice genuine listening, because I obviously have forgotten how.
But there are some people out there that offer their story without any invitation. This happened twice the other day when I was downtown.
I had been craving McDonald's for a few weeks (don't judge me...I know you are....) and sat down next to a woman reading. Before I take my first bite of processed, fried chicken shaped like a nugget this man rams into the back of me. He's a larger man, scruffy with a loud laugh. He says "Watch out! Chunky guy coming through!" and sits next to me. Until I finished my last french fry this guy talked. I asked no questions, made no eye contact and still he continued with his slurred speech and trucker jokes. He told me every scary story from driving a truck that I never wanted to know. One involved a woman pulling up next to his truck one night in a parking lot, acting like her car didn't work, climbing into his truck with nothing but an overcoat on. Apparently she was a "hooker that was wanted by the law." Others were about wanted killers. Who tells these stories the first time they meet someone? They continued until the bits of cheeseburger stuck in his scruff and spewed on my arm were too much for me. As I was leaving, he told me to always have my cell phone with me on the road. Thanks. And then told me we'd see each other soon, because "You never know where I'll turn up. We might see each other real soon." Awesome.
Then I walk past a woman sitting on a ledge asking people for a meal. I walked by her like I do many of the people on the street. Don't they know I am only living off a stipend? I don't have a salary either. Then I realized that she wasn't asking for money, booze or time. Just a meal. Easy enough. So I went back thinking, I'll run into Potbelly and get her something and still make my train. Instead, she tells me that she can only eat certain types of food because she has no teeth and a sensitive stomach. Her story continues all the while I'm thinking about my train. I didn't have time to walk 6 blocks to the nearest whatever restaurant to get her whatever type of food, so I thrust $5 at her, apologize and run to the train. Then I wonder how many people she does that too? Everyone's in a hurry- so I doubt anyone agrees to walk 1/2 a mile to the restaurant. I'm mad at her- beggar's can't be choosers- right? Somewhere in the midst of our conversation I forgot she was capable of having an opinion- I don't even like Potbelly's. But all I could think was "She should eat whatever I give her, because she's lucky I even stopped." Oh brother. In my mind, she's not even a person. Just an annoyance that took up too much time and my $5 (which could get me a fast-n-fresh pizza that would last for 2 meals)! Who have I become?
People and their stories. I suppose everyone you meet has one, but we're too busy to hear them. I blame it on technology and our equating time with money. Maybe. Or maybe we just don't want to know that people can't afford to eat or that truck drivers have no one to talk to (so when they do have someone to talk to, they have to tell them everything). I don't know.
But I do know that I need to practice genuine listening, because I obviously have forgotten how.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
I have recently developed 2 new fetishes. Gilmore Girls and Iced Coffee. They have managed to completely change my life since Friday. I don't know if I like it. I talk excessively about everything and nothing and spend a lot of money.
My job is getting progressively more busy, which has been nice. Today I've been *place here a nice name for commanded* to attend a press conference with the esteemed (hated) Governor Blagojevich. He's talking about health care, so we need to be present. It would be like attending a Bush press conference. Well known, but not liked. So you almost feel privileged, but then remember who it is you're listening to. If I was Shane Claiborne I would paint my chest and shout revolutionary things at him. Instead I'll sit in the back and take notes with the other business casual youngins.
Oh life.
My job is getting progressively more busy, which has been nice. Today I've been *place here a nice name for commanded* to attend a press conference with the esteemed (hated) Governor Blagojevich. He's talking about health care, so we need to be present. It would be like attending a Bush press conference. Well known, but not liked. So you almost feel privileged, but then remember who it is you're listening to. If I was Shane Claiborne I would paint my chest and shout revolutionary things at him. Instead I'll sit in the back and take notes with the other business casual youngins.
Oh life.
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