vendredi, septembre 14, 2007

On Power...

My placid morning walks to work have been usurped by a small asian woman armed with a hand held stop sign and a reflective vest.

I came of age as a pedestrian in Lebanon and Montreal where walk signals were advisory and a charming sense of carpe pavementum prevailed.

The reticence of Torontonians to step off the curb before the little white man appears bemuses me.

However, to the crossing guard stationed at the first intersection I cross in the mornings, the little white man is LAW. (Which, come to think of it, it actually is.)

Traffic or no traffic, all wheel-less commuters must wait for his elusive appearance. We then must continue to wait until the crossing guard has stalked to the middle of the road, held up her stop sign and tapped it with a businesslike briskness, and beckoned the waiting sheep to pass the danger.

Never one to kowtow to toad-stool tyrants, and quite happy to take my safety into my own caffeine-deprived hands, I often walk against the light. If there are no cars, cyclists or moving things that may hit me, I stride forth with purpose.

The crossing guard doesn't like this. The first time I pulled my daredevil stunt she stared me down from across the road. As I passed - still in one piece - she muttered, "Be careful!" in a tone not unlike that of my mother when I left for a date with an unsavory boyfriend.

The judgment of strangers, that's what I live for.

Some variant of the scene has played out most weekday mornings since school began. But I'm not an irresponsible cautionary tale, nor do I set a bad example. If there are children waiting to cross, I wait with them patiently. But if it's just me and the crossing guard and an empty street... Let's just say, danger is my middle name.

Today, she saw me coming and turned her back. I was pointedly being ignored. In a decidedly karmic moment, the usually placid street was filled with whizzing vehicles. I assessed my options, punched the button, and waited for the light to turn.

lundi, septembre 10, 2007

I work all day with words...

... and I find that when I leave the office I no longer think in words or have the ability to form sentences.

and there has been no time for writing:
revolving housemates
a second job

and friends. there are starting to be friends.