Somebody remind me of this in about a month

I like going to work. I mean, I don’t like getting up every single day at a certain time, or the time that work takes from the things I like to do, but I like the action of going to work.

In the morning I like the personal time, listening to my ipod while walking down the hill to catch a train. I like being inside my head for the half hour that it takes to get to my office. Sometimes I read, but mostly I just listen to music and observe. Sometimes I get to work too quickly.

If I didn’t work in an office downtown, I would never have seen the guy on the train platform who looked exactly like Brad Pitt and wore an expensive grey suit. I would never have seen the big woman with the hairy upper lip that pushed past me with an orange leather bag that was bigger than my dog. I would not see the lesbian couples who make out in the middle of the train just about every morning. I wouldn’t have spiky haircuts to consider, or piercings, or tattoos. I wouldn’t be able to play that game I play in my head, where I guess where the other train riders are going. That guy with the perfect hair, spiked just so, with the squared-off shoes and the black-framed glasses, he’s an architect. The tired woman with the heavy backpack full of books, well-dressed but with disheveled hair: law student. The woman with the giant orange bag: city employee.

I like the vacant, sleepy look the passengers on the train have, how we tolerate each other being so close only because we are all so lost in our own thoughts.

I like the purposeful feeling of walking from the train station to the office. Tall buildings, steel and glass. I often look up. I like seeing the other purposeful-looking people striding toward work, or a meeting, or the coffee shop. I like watching our reflections in store windows.

Sometimes I stop for coffee before I get to the office, and I like that too, the smell of the beans, the energy of the people behind the counter. I like listening to the complexity of some people’s orders: grande nonfat half-caff no foam mocha no whip. Soy milk, caramel, double shots, extra shots. Room for cream. I like the cashier’s shaved head.

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5 thoughts on “Somebody remind me of this in about a month

  1. I am someone who likes work, too. Call us weirdos! :)

    I love the description of that bus ride. I hope you keep it up with your daily descriptions and thoughts–they are great material for future pieces and show that you are a true writer: that every moment has possibility for art.

  2. Elizabeth, you are totally insane.

    They say the number one predictor of happiness is length of commute, the shorter the better. Maybe this post proves that beyond a certain ideal commute length — maybe 15 minutes — a shorter commute is actually less ideal.

    I did like the post a lot though. I _almost_ was like, “ya, my commute is totally awesome!” Almost.

    Maybe I need to move to the city.

  3. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I already cursed myself by writing this…This morning I was on a crowded train whose doors wouldn’t open, except for one, so we all had to file out a single doorway and wait for the next train, which of course was wildly crowded, and I got squished next to a drunk guy who leaned on me and a gangly teenage boy who was clearly freaked out by the fact that I had to lean on him to escape the drunk dude. Good times.

    If my commute was all on foot, it would probably be better.

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