Metro musings

The thing about being short is that on the metro you get a lot of armpits in your face. It doubly sucks if you are claustrophobic. I envision myself vomiting on the tall, pit-stained assholes around me just so they would get the hell away from me.

Yes, so I've made it to DC in one piece (more or less) a little less than 2 weeks ago, and have been working at USAction for about a week now, taking the metro back and forth like another cog in a machine.

Riding the metro gets me thinking about what it would be like to be a giant squid. Or any other deep sea creature. It might be because it's nearly impossible to go against the flow of body traffic just like a current, or the fact that we sway back and forth with the motion of the train like underwater plants. It could also stem from the deep sea episode of Planet Earth I saw this weekend with Becca.

Ok, so that video didn't have anything to do with underwater plants, but man! So cool! Venus fly traps are the weirdest things alive. Also, I kinda feel like that frog on the metro during rush hour.

I also hate how quiet it gets, even when it feels like all of D.C.'s professional population is in your particular car. My inner camp counselor oftentimes thinks about starting a round of "row row row your boat" to boost morning morale, but mostly just to freak people out. I think I would get a kick out of bugging all the grumpy morning people. That might make my day.

One thing that I've come to realize is how easy it is to ignore everything around you, at least as a middle-class, commuting professional in D.C. EVERYONE has a freaking ipod, newspaper, some cheap paperback, knitting project, kindle, blackberry that gets service underground, etc. etc. People are totally lost in their own little worlds.

On the bright side, I get to eat PB and Js again, throwback to grade school. But it might take a while before the proportions are right (a little too much peanut butter). Normally, I would wad up my pb and j into a delicious wonder-bread ball and dunk it repeatedly in a glass of milk. Judge away, haters, I like my soggy food.

While my mind may have stayed put in Mrs. Burke's fourth grade, my body has aged 50 years. I have a FREAKING ULCER. Seriously, folks, my stomach grew rebellious with a diet of frozen boca burgers and red sauce from the jar annihilating my insides. As of now, my stomach is preparing to reject the peanut butter and jelly sandwich i so generously offered to it as a peace offering.
Gotta go.

But before I sign off, good news, I found a place to live! It is glorious.
More on that later.