Sliding Scales

I don't know exactly what to write about, so for fun I'll try to illustrate my current mental and emotional state by rating where I fall in several categories:

Energy

0 = lump of coal, sack of potatoes, etc.
10 = Skydiving solo, "Spring Break WOOOOO!"

0 ...........[3.7]......................... 10


Mood

0 = depths of despair, wracking sobs, inconsolable
10 = spontaneous song and dance, overuse of exclamation marks, skipping and twirling

0 ...........................[7.2]......... 10


Optimism about Life

0 = There will never be an end to warfare and misery in the world; we're all going to die and wither into insignificance over the billions-year-long destiny of the Earth so nothing matters anyway;
10 = Absolutely anything is possible; the world is a playground; "I LOVE getting up in the morning. I clap my hands and say, 'THIS is gonna be a great day!'"

0 ...........................[7.4]......... 10


Anger

0 = completely calm; serene as a feather on the wind; any problems roll right off my back
10 = hysterical rage, screaming, shredded flesh (yours)

0 .[0.6]................................... 10


Mental Acuity

0 = sets alarm for pm instead of am, accidentally sends e-mail in which I complain about boss TO boss in question, sets apartment on fire
10 = the pinnacle of smarts: a cross between Stephen Hawking and MacGyver

0 ...........[3.8]......................... 10


Productivity

0 = like a 3-day uncharged phone that won't even turn on
10 = organizing march on Washington, cleaning entire house including mopping floors

0 ...[1.4]................................. 10


Question: In honor of having just seen Step Up this weekend (which I have to admit I didn't like, but that's just me), tell me another movie of the same genre (wherein a guy and a girl are forced to work together in some sort of dance or athletic competition and then get together), and tell me what you thought of it.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Um.... hmm. Okay, load the dishwasher.
Percent Chance: Considering I had to use a tupperware container as a bowl for my ice cream tonight, I'd say it's getting urgent. 86.2%

Contradictions

While I am conflicted daily about the fact that my job really does nothing to benefit society, I have never been less stressed about my job or more content about my life in general.

I can't wait to curl up in bed and go to sleep right now, but I also know it's so much more fun to stay awake.

I've always been told I have a young-looking face, but the wrinkles are starting to show and last night I found gray hair #4. And I actually am starting to care about this.

I love getting to know people, yet avoid eye contact when in public, especially in elevators, on trains and buses, and on the street.

Question of the day: Tell me a contradiction about you.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Chillin' with Laura's friend Daniel
Percent Chance: 93.12% (only if he cancels, 'cause I refuse to be a flake!)

Supersize

I love it when people leave reading material on the bus seats. Tonight someone left a whole newspaper and I got to read it! FREE worldy knowledge, without the effort of actually going to a newsstand and buying a paper (which I have never done, being as I'm both cheap and lazy)! Very exciting!

So anyway, though, reading the news is disturbing. It's also frustrating. I hate knowing that every news story could be, and probably is, told completely differently depending on who's doing the telling. Especially the international stuff, and the police reports. Most of the time all I can do is assume the article hints at the truth but that the reality lies somewhere in the cloudy space in between.

I'd much rather find out for myself, like go and talk to someone about it.

Which I do love to do, you know--ask people about random stuff. But treating people as my personal encyclopedias at times has its drawbacks. That's how it happened that I had to leap on a random passing bus at midnight on a weekday to get away from a clingy homeless guy... Hmm, I never did tell you that story, did I?

Yeah, I was walking from the Metra to the closest el stop (huge pain) because I'd gone to my parents' that night and taken the train back into the city. As I'm waiting to cross the street, this guy comes up to me and asks if I could just help him out with some change, see, he's stuck down here and needs money for a Metra ticket to get back to the suburbs.

No money, I think (but don't say)? None? No cell phone? You can't make a collect call and get someone to come get you? Hmmmm..... I consider if there's any way he's telling the truth. I look at his shoes, ('cause this guy I went out with once said that's what he always looks for (the reasoning being that if the guy hitting you up has nice shoes, he's probably not that hard up)). The shoes are actually kind of nice. He's young--under 30, black but talks like a white guy, like he's a suburbanite. Eeeeh, I think. I waver.

"Eek-You better get down there! Worry about the money when you get there--the trains only run for about another half hour," I tell him, feeling him out.

"Yeah," he says with a pained expression, but doesn't make any effort to move.

"What suburb you going to?"

"Oh, I live out west..."

Yeah, this guy's full of shit. Right then the little light-up crosswalk guy finally turns (by the way, who was it told me that in some countries instead of a hand for "don't walk," they have a guy standing? Was it Brice talking about France?)... anyway, so as I start to cross, I call back to him (stupidly, I realize later), "....mmmmuuooOkay... I'll contribute 50 cents... if you'll help me understand a little better. What's your story? How'd you lose all your money?"

See, I'd always figured that's what I should do, you know... ask how they got that way. Make them feel that people didn't just see through them, that we care.

Again (I berate myself so you don't have to), I now realize that to them (well, to this guy anyways), people like me, walking around with money, are just marks. They don't have much use for empathy if it doesn't jingle in the pocket.

A light goes up in his eyes. He's torn. He doesn't want to ditch the lie, but I've actually shown in interest in talking to him if he'll tell me the truth...

I'm halfway across the street and he scurries to catch up with me. Suddenly he's my best friend. He asks me which way I'm going. "That way," I say, not wanting to be too specific. Oh, too bad, he says--I've gotta go to the Metra station (ahem, yeah..). Yet strangely enough (or not so), he continues walking with me down the block (in the opposite direction as the Metra) and starts to chat with me. Damn my charming yet exasperating* inquisitive nature!! This is not what I had planned, I thought.

*obviously, my own assessment :)

Now I'm already a fast walker (I know, goes in direct contrast to my slowness at everything else, but it's true.... probably a habit formed because I'm always running late to something, I guess), so I didn't really pick up speed... but I did start to draw boundaries. You know, the whole, calm and collected, businesslike yet not concerned vibe previously discussed... To the outside observer, perfectly happy with a midnight chat in the (almost) deserted loop, but inside becoming superaware of my surroundings. As we walk, I seek out and make eye contact with every doorman, sanitation worker, and late-working businessperson I see.

He's pleasant enough, and I don't feel scared per se, and I figure if I stay away from alleys and ditch the el stop plan and hoof it over to the crowded Michigan Ave. bus stop instead, I'll be fine.

He tells me that he just got out of jail. "Jail? Why were you in jail?" I ask him.

"Oh, pshhhh, man, these cops, they were messin' with me.... See, what it was was there was this girl, and she into a fight with some other guys, and I happened to be nearby, and so the cop, he started messing with me, saying I had stuff to do with it."

"Aw, that sucks. ...They put you in jail just for being there?"

"Well, he was messing with me, so I sorta said some stuff to him."

"Ah."

I walk; he keeps walking with me. I figure I'm obviously going to be stuck with this guy until I get where I'm going, so might as well learn something... Besides, who's to say he won't freak out if I try to ditch him? Better to keep him friendly until I'm someplace more crowded and better lit.

"I've always wondered--what's it like in jail?"

"It's a'ight."

"Yeah? How long were you there?"

"9 days."

"9 days!? They kept you in jail for 9 days just for swearing at a cop?"

"Well, it wasn't a bad deal, you know? The food was okay, and I didn't have anything else to do... I woulda stayed longer but they said I had to leave."

(notice how the story of the lost Metra fare starts to slip away)

Yes, apparently this guy liked it in jail. And who wouldn't, if you're homeless? Bed, relative safety (possibly more than on the streets, especially if you're just being held in temporary costudy at the police station), free food... Well, either that, or he was somehow trying to give me reasons why he didn't get cleared and leave after 24 hours, maybe to hide the fact that he'd in fact done something way worse than swearing at a cop, something that carried a longer sentence.

Who's to say.

Still walking. It's actually a nice night out. In spite of the somewhat dangerous spot I put myself in, I am (to the disappointment of motherly types everywhere) kind of enjoying this.

However, if I had any doubt as to whether he was just another homeless guy hustling for money (and I will add my Becky disclaimer here that I'm sure not all homeless guys are skeezy... I'm sure people become homeless for various reasons, but guys like this one who hang around the loop and work the streets--they're who I'm referring to).... well, those illusions were clearly shattered when we passed a group of about 3 other homeless guys, hanging around under a construction shelter, and they obviously knew him. Elbowing each other, calling out to him... He responded, smiling proudly, showing me off like I was a prize he won (eew), and also throwing a little bit of raised-eyebrow, "heh heh, look at the sucker I reeled in" body language.

At this point we're about a block away from Michigan Avenue, and good, because I've almost run out of things to say. (shocking)

As we approach Michigan Avenue, my companion starts to make noises to the effect of, "Where do you live? Which bus do you you take? I can walk you home."

Oooooooh, honey, I think. That's when I cut him off midsentence, exclaim, "Oh crap! That's my bus! Gotta go!" and sprint off after the bus about to pull away from the bus stop. The doors were safely closed behind me before he knew what hit him, effectively ensuring he couldn't follow me home.

No matter that it was the 151 Sheridan bus, the one that takes 2 hours to go the same distance as an express bus can go in half an hour. For once, I didn't care.

Ah, that bus driver. I think he knew. I think he saw me running across the street and slowed down so I'd make it on the bus. Loved him.

My heart racing from adrenaline (and, let's be honest, also from the general effect of a mile-long speedwalk followed by a sprint to the bus on an out-of-shape cardiopulmonary system), I texted Christy how I'd just escaped a skeezy homeless man that I'd brought upon myself, but that not to worry, I was on my way home. She, of course, threatened to come over there and knock some sense into me.

So yeah, talking to people--you learn stuff, but not always a good idea when you're alone (and female, grr) at night in the city. I have to learn to confine my research to more appropriate places. No fun.

Speaking of research, I have a running list of things I want to know about. Right now I'm actively seeking info on the following subjects. If you have any relevant knowledge, please share... otherwise I'll probably bring it up the next time we're sitting around a campfire, or, you know, stuck at the bottom of a hole with 5 hours to kill. We've got deep, fix-the-world stuff, and we've got random, trivial irrelevance. A nice mix, I think:


1. Why hair is curlier when it's wet
2. The diamond trade
3. In what ways science fiction better explores and understands the human condition than reality-based books/movies/TV shows
4. What factors are necessary for a country/society to prosper without corrupt governments and officials
5. Why (it seems to me, at least) that wounds on your knees and elbows take longer to heal than wounds on the rest of your body
6. North Korea
7. Whether there will ever be a time without war, given that two of humans' most deep-seated instincts are fear and anger
8. ...and if a world like that is possible, what that world would be like
9. Iran, Isreal/Palestine, the Middle East in general (particularly the public's everyday experience, as opposed to the politics of it)
10. How it is that water has no calories. What makes a thing have no calories--the absence of carbon? Things that can't be digested and therefore used by the body?
11. If humans as a race were less intelligent creatures (as other animals, say, like squirrels, octopi (yes that's the real plural--I had to look it up for work), or baboons), whether the world would be more peaceful or less
12. We spend so much time revering nature... If nature's so perfect, ecosystems and the food chain and all that, if animals have the answers, then how come we as humans continually strive to be "above" animals?
13. Are compassion, conscience, and a sense of justice only human traits, or can examples be found in the animal world?
14. A ranking of which appliances in a home use more electricity, and whether turning on the A/C to cold vs. very cold will significantly reduce the energy used, or if the speed of the fan is what's the higher drain
15. How appropriate it is to get involved in another country's affairs--whether it's irresponsible to allow others to suffer when you can help them, or whether it's arrogant and self-serving to impose your values and structure
16. What's going to happen in Cuba when Fidel dies (I find it hard to believe that suddenly with one person gone, the whole regime will change. This worries me on several fronts, including the fact that our own country may take matters into its own hands. And in fact, I would be surprised if the U.S. isn't already ahead of the game, having years ago laid down seeds that will sprout when he leaves. Which goes back to that question above.... Plus there's also his brother Raúl)
(wow I have a lot of questions)
17. The new plastic bottles labeled "biodegradable" and exactly what their half-life is 'cause I don't want to be ingesting plastic molecules... or do we ingest plastic molecules all the time, and nothing happens, like we supposedly eat 8 spiders a year and whole colonies of microscopic bugs live in our eyelashes?

Your question: I just gave you tons of questions! Pick one. Jeez.

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Important meeting at work. Planning on dressing up to look semi-respectable
Percent chance: of looking respectable: eeeeh... 68%
of having my shit together before the meeting: 54.21%

City Girl Part Deux

The other thing I'd like to bitch about is the whole walking alone at night thing.

A few weeks ago, I was taking a cab home from a bar. It was maybe 1 am, and if it was earlier I would've taken the el--there's a stop only 6 blocks from my house, and I don't really live in a bad neighborhood--but it was 1 am, so I had to cab it. (And, let me just butt in to say: there went 15 bucks I wouldn't have had to part with if I'd been able to walk). Anyway, so I'm cruising up Lake Shore Drive in the back of the cab; the windows are down.... and it's one of those summer nights that seems soft and alive. I don't want to be chaperoned home--what I really want to do is bust out of the cab, walk around the lake, soak up the night air and the breeze off the water--but I can't. I'm trapped in this cab--gotta content myself with sticking my head out the window as the cabbie speeds me inevitably toward home. It's not safe for me to walk along the lake at this hour by myself--what, am I crazy!?!? I can't just go do that! ...Not unless, it occured to me--well, hmm, unless I had a guy along to protect me.

It was the magic key, wasn't it--as long as there was a male to stand guard, suddenly nothing was forbidden--I could do whatever I wanted, go where ever I pleased. It didn't matter who that guy was--just him being a male was enough. Suddenly, by virtue of him being there, the world was open to me. Strange, I mused: alone, I'm trapped; add one guy, and suddenly I'm free to do what I wish? Where's the part where I get to be by myself and do what I wish, the way guys do?

Sure, a girl is free to walk alone at night--it can be done--but there's no fun in it. You're always looking over your shoulder, clutching your purse, running worst-case scenarios in your head. You have to walk a certain way, hold your head a certain way, one that says, "I am in control." The look in your eyes must be defiant and calm. Your footsteps must be brisk and sure. Not too brisk, though, or you give yourself away.

And maybe this is partly why I like Buffy so much--it certainly isn't Sarah Michelle Gellar (although she does grow on you eventually)--no, I think it was more the fascination with the ability to go anywhere, do anything, for myself--just me, without fear.

But that only exists in the fantasy world. For the rest of my life I'll never know, as men do, what it is like to not be afraid, to not depend on others to protect me, to not have to hope and pray that no one tries to attack me, 'cause well--not much I could do about if they did, huh, poor little defenseless old me.

I hate it.

So now you know.

Comments? Have you ever been frightened walking by yourself, or worse, had someone attack or rob you?

Big Event of the Day (today!): Pick up Christie from the airport!! (Laura is already here)
Percent Chance: 97.82%

Upswing

I'm not going to get into my second bout of complaining about being female just yet. I'm in a good mood, and why stir up trouble?

Here are some of the things I'm in a good mood about:

1. A very nice young man (do I sound like a grandma when I say that?) came and finally unclogged my shower drain tonight. Someone was supposed to come yesterday and didn't (well, actually, when I first asked about it, it was two weeks ago), and then they were supposed to come today, and then finally I had enough of their "oh sure--we'll get someone in there right away" bull%*#$ so I called the maintenance coordinator guy at home at 7 pm and made him send someone over that very moment. I was getting pretty pissed at him--it'd been two full weeks I'd been calling and e-mailing him and he'd been putting off fixing this. Anyway, so I am appeased... for now. But they'll never know how close they came to THE WRATH OF BECKY. I was going to go down to their office, seriously, if it went on for one more day. Leave work early and everything. Not to scream and yell and throw a temper tantrum, but to twist their arm annoyingly enough they'd stop blowing me off. Stride in, sweet as pie, and talk and talk to everyone in the entire office, just set up camp for hours and talk about my shower drain in minute detail until they can't stand it anymore, and refuse to leave until someone physically went to my house and fixed it. Maybe I'd even make them drive me to my apartment right then, tools in hand.

Funny. You know, I don't like to yell, or throw insults, or make a big scene, but I get just as upset as anybody else. Well, mostly. I guess I don't have a whole lotta rage, but, you know, things can simmer.... well, anyway, it's my new strategy now. This direct, "This is not cool and you need to fix it, smiles, please thank you" thing that I'm trying. I like it, personally, because it doesn't cause my blood pressure to go up. I just hope it works as well as temper tantrums, 'cause man, I've been at the receiving end of some of those in my day, and they convert you into a blubbering mess who will do anything they want just to stop their yelling.

2. I went to a new grocery store tonight. I researched online first (what would we do without the internet? Seriously) and heard good things about Thai Grocery. I needed to get shrimp paste* and galangal (Asian ginger) to make curry. And oh, man--that place didn't disappoint! I got 2 whole bags of groceries for less than $16, including a huge bag of frozen potstickers (Oh baby!), bottled potsticker sauce (are you proud? I didn't attempt to make it from scratch! ...At least not yet..).... and I did find shrimp paste. But turns out I still need a couple things to make curry, so I settled for making pad thai from a box. It was good. Leftovers for lunch today. And the guy at the counter was so nice! As he was ringing me up, I explained that I was new to Asian cooking and was stocking my kitchen. So he threw a little cookbook in my bag for free (probably one of those promotional ones, so not like he spent money on it or anything, but still--thoughtful), and I explained how I was hoping to work my way up to making lots of Asian dishes but that tonight I'd cheat and go with frozen potstickers, and he smiled and said, "Ah, starting with the easy one!" It was cute. And then the lady behind me and he started talking about how the spices for curries in their two countries are different--he was, I'll assume, Thai, and I never heard the name of hers..... [I dunno. This is long so I will stop. I think you are bored.]

But anyways, it was a great experience. I love food, I love cooking, I love meeting people, international people are so fun, and..... I left the store quite content and enthusiastic about life. It was good.

*So, shrimp paste. ...YUMMMAY. If Thai Grocery is any indication, Thai food (and possibly Asian food in general) is comprised in large part of things that are fish-based, or fermented, or in the case of fish paste, fish-based and fermented. The store did not smell good, I'll say that (but actually the Mexican grocery is worse). But hey, while I'll I'm talking about fish-based and fermented things, I want to share with you a revelation. I think soy sauce is fermented, too. Because the only ingredients on a bottle of soy sauce are water, wheat, soybeans, salt, and sodium benzoate (a preservative). They had to have done something to those soybeans or they'd just taste like soybeans mushed up. Plus, isn't wheat what they make beer out of? If my theory is true, you may be interested in knowing what fermented soybeans look like. Not pretty.

3. My sisters are coming!!!!!!!!!! We are going to have ever so much fun. I took 2 whole days off work. In Beckyland that's like 5 for a normal person--I'm such a miser about that kind of thing.

4. I found the next dance class I'm gonna take. It starts after Labor Day, which is perfect, 'cause Summerdance goes until then and why pay for class when you can get it for free in the park? It's a combination of Rumba and Samba (oh yeah, that's the booty-shakin' Brazilian one).... that dance has always eluded me so I'll be glad to find out how it goes.

5. I saw a really good documentary on TV tonight--in fact, I was actually looking forward to watching it and planned it into my schedule (how nerdy am I?)--that was about little people. People of short stature. You know, dwarfs. You're not supposed to call them midgets, though, they said. It made me think. Like, man, we're spoiled, us average-sized people, having stuff we can reach. Such a production it was for them to do laundry, cook, load the dishwasher.... they had to use the stepstool freaking all the time, and literally climb onto the dryer to turn the knob. One couple, though, they were both dwarfs, they had their kitchen shrunk so that it was comfortably-sized for them. What was strange to see, though, was their son (who was average-sized) doing the dishes in the sink. He had to bend over to reach the sink which was about 2 1/2 feet off the ground. I could go on but to sum up: It was interesting and good. I will have something to say if I get into a random conversation with a little person now. Also, I'm newly grateful I'm average-sized and I don't have all the inconveniences I'd have to deal with if I wasn't. ...But also kinda mad at us for the whole human nature, "not in my backyard," "out of sight, out of mind," selfish thing that makes us need to watch documentaries to know anything meaningful about a whole section of the human race.

6. I went to bed at 12:30 last night and got 7 hours of sleep. I dreamed and everything. It was quite the luxury for a school night.

Question: If you were in a Miss (or Mr.) America contest, what would you do for the talent competition? Also, how would you respond to the question, "What will you do if you're crowned Miss/Mr. America?"

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Poker at John and Christy's
Percent Chance: 90%

Oh Soooo Much Past the Bedtime

I heart Chicago.

I don't heart Chicago when it's so hot you can't breathe, or when it's so cold your body freezes up. But I do still heart it when it's raining, like last night, when I got caught in a downpour and within a block I was soaked through. But it wasn't hot!!! AW! my god, am I glad it's not HOT anymore. And plus, Chicago is just fun to mess about in. (I'd like to be British so I could say things like "mess about" without it being strange.)

I went shopping today. Know what I decided? The reason I like shopping is not the actual selecting of clothes or the trying on of them. There are only two things that I truly find enjoyable about shopping: 1) talking to the cashiers and salespeople, especially if you really have to consult with them about something (Something about the personal attention gives me warm contenty feelings. It happens at the doctor, too, but usually only if it's a check-up of the normal variety), and 2) examining, up close and personal, your various facial pores, zits and bumps in the full-length mirrors in the changing room. Oh, and I suppose 3) the coming home and trying on of all your other clothes to see what will match the clothes that you bought. That's what I've been doing for the past few hours, and now it's 2:30 am! Gaah!

Short, SHORT version (Do you? Yes. Do YOU? YES. Good. You're married.):

Question: Were you, or were you not, in an awesome mood when the heat wave broke today?*

*We apologize for the overly 90's "rock on," white college student use of "awesome." It just came out that way.


Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Duh, wearing an article of recently bought clothing, of course. Helloooo--it's the best part.
Percent chance: Well, I do have to consider the fact I need an outfit that I can go to work in, go to Summerdance in (salsa AND bachata tomorrow), and then go out in (I'm Superman-ing it, as Katie says, with a multi-purpose outfit)... there's a chance my new clothes won't make the cut. But I'll try. 69.66%

City Girl I

If you graphed how frequently I blogged, you would see a steady decline from daily, to three times a week, twice a week, and now once a week. Consequently, I think I have probably lost most of my blog readership. It's just hard to motivate myself to sit in front of a computer at home when I just got off an 8-hour (or more) shift of sitting in front of same at work.

Okay, excuse-mongering out of the way...

I dedicate this entry to Laura, who told me last night that me posting a new blog was more important than sleep. So here. I gift upon you: this.


A while ago I said I was going to write about walking alone. I have much to say on the subject, more than you would think, actually.

See, lately my life is the story of Becky taking on the big city, walking around between the tall buildings, dodging taxis and buses and huge concrete planters on the sidwalks, just me and my little old self. I don't mind that it's just me--in fact, I almost prefer it. That way I don't run the risk of annoying other people with my constant "Ooh! Catering tent! Let's go see if they're filming a movie!" and "Hey wait! Look at the mannequins in that window! Don't they somehow look like they're really in love?"

The thing about wandering around in the big city as a girl, though, is that sometimes, in some ways, it really sucks.

Take, for example, the guys who say stuff or whistle at girls on the street. Now I may be an extreme case, but a lot of girls are really bothered by this and there is nothing they can really do about it.

I guess I should be glad it's not anywhere near as bad here as in other places.... In Ecuador, it was a virtual guarantee if a girl passed a guy on the street or if he passed by in his car, he would say something, or whistle... or worse--and most common--he'd go Tssss! TSSSS!! It made my hairs stand on end. Every day. At least once per city block, from the place I left to the place I was going. EVERY time I walked passed that house they were constructing on the way to work. FOUR MONTHS I walked by that building, FOUR MONTHS I kept my head down as I walked by it, as if I had done something wrong, FOUR MONTHS they still kept up the same s#$@. It got old. And I got rageful, a little--no--a lot, to be honest. After a while you start to feel like it's the men who own the street and the women just get to walk there because the men allow it, and enduring the whistles is the price you have to pay for passing. Mexico is just as bad, right, Christie?

(Funny side note, eight straight months in Ecuador, I never said anything back to any of them. My last week there, though, a young-looking guy of about 14 was following me, "Tsss tsss"ing at me--this was no more, no less than any of the other guys had done, but at that exact moment, unfortunately for him, the months of pent-up rage finally came out: I did an about-face, looked him in the eye, and screamed at him loud enough to shatter neighboring windows, "F#*@ OFF!" His eyes bugged out and I swear he jumped backwards. He might not have understood my words, but I'm sure the delivery gave him a clue as to the theme. He scampered off with this tail between his legs. Ahhhh.... I felt GREAT after that. So, you know, got rid of one, anyway. It's sort of like swatting mosquitos in the Amazon though. You're really not going to deplete the supply. But I digress.)

So it could be that this past history makes me more sensitive to it here. Obviously here it's not as bad, but it still happens. And even when it doesn't, you're always aware that it could; you always have to have your guard up for it. Now there are things you can do to try to decrease the chances they'll say something, but they're not foolproof. If a guy's looking to say something to you, he's probably going to say it, whether or not you seem interested back. The only thing you can do is to ignore him. Unfortunately, it's not as simple as avoiding eye contact. He can sense you're aware of his presence, and therefore, obviously, hungry for some whistlin' or comments. So the trick is to give every indication that you don't even know they are there, and the most effective way of doing this is to actually not think about them (which is as hard as telling yourself to not think about a pink elephant). It's not enough just to pretend you don't notice them--they always know you're faking indifference somehow. I think it's because you tense up, waiting for them to say something. But if you actually will yourself to not think of it, sometimes you can get by.

It bothers me that all this should even be necessary. Be necessary to walk the streets of your own town in peace.

Tomorrow's installment: Walking alone at night (Bitching Part II)

Today's question is for the chicas out there: Am I just overly sensitive? Does this stuff get to you like it does to me?

Big Event of the Day (tomorrow): Poker at John and Christy's
Percent Chance: 95%