Subway Quirks

On typical weekdays I take the Montréal métro (subway) to and from work. It's a short journey, about 7 minutes / 4 stops, but I try to make it as interesting for myself as possible. I must admit that there are two quirky games that have made their way into my daily routine.

1.) I'll admit it --- I stare, desperately trying to figure out what people are thinking. I ogle, I pretend not to look, then glance again. I usually find myself evaluating the oddest looking characters available. Deliberating about where my subject of choice has come from, and attempting to pin point the angst and troubles that I envision they are harboring. Possible traits that may qualify you as a target? An overly wrinkled forehead, a tattered pair of trousers, a heinous smell that one struggles to define. All of which send me on fatuous tangents trying to give reasoning to why things are they way they are. I do my best to imagine my subjects childhood, their family problems, or simply their last meal.

I figure that all this is reasonably normal, as any inquisitive mind would ponder from time to time. The most diabolic thing is that I tend to force myself to believe that my perceptions of these strangers are remotely accurate. I then spend a second or two snapping out of the moment - as to reassure myself that it was my extensive imagination at work.

2.) When I reach my morning destination, one of the major hubs in the downtown core, an electronic whistling sound chimes, and the subway doors slide open. I push through the small melee of impatient people trying to embark, and I slow my stride. 

At this moment everyone who is moving towards me has a look of panic, as they awkwardly gush towards the trains open portholes from the nearby stairwells. I chuckle to myself as I view grandmothers keep pace with drug dealers, and tots being dragged unwillingly by their baby sitters as they dash to the global goal - the subway. The imagery is just too epic, and the emotions too visible. Most give up several strides before the doors close and slump their shoulders in frustration.

But there is always what i call the "College Try Sprinter". The CTS is special, and there is always at least one per boarding. No matter how slim the window of opportunity appears, CTS' will relentlessly scamper at their top speed (as if he or she were running the 40 yard dash) towards the closing entrances. The great part about the CTS is that they are extreme. Side shuffling, on-comer juking, and brief case under the arm placements are commonly utilized maneuvers.  Small celebrations are infrequently seen aboard the train post success - the occasional fist pump or a teethy grin. But CTS' actions of disappointment are more rewarding for the onlooker - the punching of the trains exterior itself, flailing of limbs in dismay, or the less original uttering of curses in front of the general public.

Who knows how I will entertain myself when biking to work in the summer.

Miklos Feher - Who?

Here is the story.

Miklos Feher was a professional soccer player. Hungarian born, he was a right footed striker who played internationally in World Cup, and UEFA Cup qualifiers. He was tall, with arian features, shoulder length hair, and a muscly frame.

Here's where the tale takes a nasty spin. In 2004 Miklos was playing in a match in Guimaråes in northern Portugal for a pro club team, S.L. Benfica. Minutes after being substituted onto the pitch he received a yellow card for a questionable tackle. Seconds afterwards with all of the cameras intently recording his reaction to the penalty - he collapsed, had a massive heart attack, and went into cardiac arrest.

The most unimaginable thing about this story is that the game was being broadcasted live without a delay on a major European sports station. Thousands of viewers simply couldn't pull themselves away from television screens as they watched the tragedy unfold. They watched as Miklos' teammates and stadium medical staff attempted to revive his lifeless body. They cringed as the realization occurred that CPR was necessary, and they starred even more closely when the doctors stopped the compressions near the sidelines.

Millions were forced to deal with death in such a first hand state in real time. Forced to grieve, forced to contemplate, and forced to explain to loved ones what had happened.

So here is the deeper question ... Is our society so calloused that this is what it takes for us to be touched? Do we need to watch something horrific with blinkers on before we can take note of the how precious life is? In many ways our societies' screens shelter us from what is real. It hides us from poverty, from malnutrition, and from real trepidation. Somehow in the daily news one aging actresses skiing accident overshadows hundreds of killings in Kashmir. Often from the truth we can become squeamish, and we as people might be forced to feel, and then reflect.

So the real question is if the game had not have been televised would the impact of Miklos' death been as severe? Most likely not. Would his jersey had been retired? Yes. Would you have read this article and learned of his story? I am willing to say confidently no.

Are drastic celebrity tragedies like this the only way that our society can rediscover its humanity? Maybe you should judge for yourself. Here is the link:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wwRKwObXEOs&feature=related

Taking Stress in Stride

Saturday - It's about time.

I came very close to sitting down and writing a blurb about how stressful my world was, and how obtuse my day to day had become. Then I went outside and ran. I ran without any direction, or destination - not in a Forrest Gump-esque way - just for a morning adventure. But with each step it started to shed the pent up frustrations, closeted angst, and irritations stride by stride.

So here is what I think helped me get rid of these feeling. The simple understanding that stress is universal. It's everywhere. It's in your now, it was in your past, and it's going to be in your future.  So, If these "stressors" are always going to be there - the first step must be to work on getting this understood. Seems simple right?

There is a line from some girly acoustic song "let's try to stop taking life so seriously" that blasted through my iPod mid-sweat this morning. What I really I think that I needed to hear is "Let's try to take the stress less seriously" I am thinking this because it's the reaction to stress that causes negativity right? As we have already declared that stress is a constant. The pending reaction is actually the variable that we can change. Here's my advice:  take reacting to the inevitable stress in stride. Don't let stress sneak up on you. Expect it. Live with it. Maybe even learn to embrace it.

(Or maybe it was just the need for some physical activity, and fresh air...)

 

First Attempt. Malapropos, and Venting

So here goes. "The first blog" a.k.a. my eager attempt at sharing my innermost feelings with a select few whom I blatantly inform that this exists.

Life is, well, heavy at the moment. Or at least the entire world around me seems to be hellbent on treating it as such. Occasionally I wonder if this epidemic is making my life pass by at a faster rate, or if it is feeding some sort of negativity. Both points are continually being debated.

In any case I feel blessed, and on the last day of winter. I definitely don't feel like I'm in a bad place. Who knows what is around the corner.....? 

I think my plan for the next little while is to live full. We'll see how it plays out.