Back in bus-ness

Today I rode for the first time in a long time. Last time I rode, the price was still .50 cents I believe. Today it was 2 dollars for an all day pass. My how things have changed.

Today a woman who was fully capable of walking asked the bus driver to lower the wheelchair ramp so she could walk on. She said it didn't go down far enough and she left. Very, very bizarre. It was a heavy wheelchair day today. Three in all. For Earth Day, it sure wasn't very crowded. Guess people just don't take it seriously. I rode over 18 miles today for 2 bucks and no wear and tear on the truck. Very nice.

Meatwalker

Late night at work. Didn't get out til 10 or so and had to catch the 11pm bus. It was overcast and misting most of the day but dry by the time I walked to my stop. Not much going on at 11pm on a Monday night walk to the stop. Quite honestly I did not enjoy that walk but was glad I was able to regardless.

I would have listened to my music but wanted to remain vigilant as I was carrying a grocery bag full of sausage that my friend had given me at work so I wanted to be able to hear the dogs running up to attack me from behind. Funny thing is that a car that drove past me with a dog hanging out the window who looked at me with hungry eyes as he craned his head back toward me and the car zoomed by. He looked almost as if he was saying, "I know what you got in that bag and if I could, I'd stop this car, jump out, and knock you to the ground mmm mm! Just like that!"

I walked as fast as I could and arrived with 10 minutes or so to spare, checked some email and proceeded to tune out with some music on the iPhone. I also read this anonymous card on a website called PostSecret.com that was written by a soldier in Iraq who claimed he was so bored that he wished something would blow up just for something to do. Well he got his wish and now he prays for boredom. So be careful what you wish for and remember that even though the grass is always greener on the other side, it's probably because something died there or someone worked very hard to tend to it and nurse it along to make it so beautiful.

Dropoff.

This morning my roomie was going my way and he offered to drop me off at work so I took him up on it and he dropped me close to where the bus does. It was yet another perfect day, not a cloud in the sky and a crispness in the air ensconced my "muscle jacket" as I call my natural insulator as i'd worn a short sleeve shirt and a regular pair of jeans. I was able to walk and read simultaneously in the glorious light of the day with no other baggage to beheld. I forgot my friend's headphones that I'd borrowed the previous evening. I thought I'd grabbed them in the rush out the door but it ended up being a random cable instead. Visual confirmation is a must in a harried moment. I decided to call him at home as I was in well ahead of my appointed time to let him know of my infraction so that he could bring another of his large collection of headphones to work with him. He seemed thankful rather than enraged and I felt better about my mistake.

Why is it we're so fallible? Why do we constantly make stupid mistakes? Is it just that we're that caught up in our own little world that we neglect the things and people around us? Or is it part of some larger nefarious plan of learning whereby all these departures from mindfulness combine to help us grow?

What would an artificial life form such as a robot or cyborg do wrong in its initial stages of "life" where most of it's behaviours are programmed to be so precise as to be infallible or at least programmed to react to various stimuli that warrants specific and ideal outcomes of which there is nothing to have learned? How could the artificial life form truly ever learn if it's innate responses to the stimuli were outlined by its creator? What dangers lie between the key frames of the beginning and the end? One starts with a goal and it has to plot its best path, based on the stimuli provided and how best to proceed to the goal without violating any of the rules its been given to follow. Can A.I. ever have free will? What is the mechanical equivalence of free will or is it just a perception dictated by procedure of the difference between the shortest or longest path? Efficiency or speed? Is free will dictated by physics?

Perhaps free will can exist only with the knowledge that there is a higher power involved and that there are consequences for each and every action taken both bad and good. Energy is neither created or destroyed, it is transferred. The energy to live, love or die came from somewhere and each of those actions takes more energy than can be explained by the individual stimuli and conditions that rise up to greet us. People who have lost the will to live are sometimes the ones with no physical reason to have died. They can't explain it physically. It just happens. Is it the absence of hope or purpose that drains the life force from our physical bodies or has the organism run its course and achieved it's ultimate goal? But that goes against the nature of survival doesn't it?

The replicants in the 1982 film, Blade Runner had a sense of being and yearned desperately to live beyond their programmed lifespan of four years. Their lust for life rivaled that of their own creators and they stopped at nothing to attain their goal; not of immortality, but of longevity in my opinion. A chance to build their own memories that had been forged and faked by their creators. Decker at one point asked if Rachel knew she was a replicant. Memories are what make us who we are and provide a map to the future by graphing out our successes and failures; a chart whereby we can map our path and show us the year over year growth we so desperately need to feel worthy of the resources we spend and the sacrifices we make to get there. Without growth, stagnation sets in and where there is stagnation, there is unrest and disease. A perpetual rut in which we spin our tires constantly reminding ourselves of our failures. Never looking ahead to what awaits us if we just make the effort to forgive transgressions and speak the words needed to build the future we all desire in our hearts and to spurn the negativity that so easily oxidizes the shiny paint of our being.

Perfect

Tonight I walked to the bus in the dark of night with only a book in my hand. It was nice not having a bag cutting into my shoulder or bouncing off my hip or a backpack suffocating my back, forming a wonderful paste of sweat and cotton to my skin. I hoofed it with 10 minutes to spare and I couldn't have asked for a more pleasant evening of 50 degree, windless weather. Oh how I savoured it's sweet comfort. It's as if the richest man in the world made an outdoor air conditioner and had it on full blast just for me in the dead of summer. Gorgeous evening.

The trip was quick and we only picked up two other riders, one of whom had a bicycle; a rather lovely girl with black hair tinged with red highlights and a rough-hewn black shirt with odd white stitching on the pockets. Her presence was pleasant and calmed the day's last moments quicker than usual.

I spent most of the time with my nose buried in a novel which was loaned to me and has captured my attention oddly called, "The Drowning People" by Richard Mason and no, it's not a horror novel. It was his first book and most likely not his last as it's quite good.

American Idol CapMetro?

Well I have to say for some reason a full bus today on the early route was a bit less enjoyable today. Reading my book was more difficult and I was distracted by the wildly gesticulating people who were making hand motions while one was listening to her radio headset and the other to his iPod. Just gesticulating wildly, kept my eyes moving off the page and I almost couldn't wait to get off that thing today. The lady with the headset made these strange hand signals as if speaking to a crowd or to a class of unruly children. The other was making the smooth gesticulations of a rap star to the beat in his head on a stage in front of millions. Ah the power of music. It's all I can do to keep from dancing myself all the way to work when I'm jamming out to my own tunes.

"I fell 40 feet off a bridge."

"I shoulda woke up dead, but I didn't."

Wednesday was quite interesting. I got on the bus and it was fairly full. I whipped out my book and immediately started forcing the words into my head as quickly as I could but it was no match for the discussion I was about to witness. I whipped out the iPhone and started transcribing to the best of my ability what I heard.

"Where'd you sleep last night? One homeless guy says to another who has a large mountaineering backpack. "A church," he says.

Other guy says, "Hospital," and I think, Genius idea, go in, sit in the waiting room and take a load off in a heated environment... But I was wrong.

He said he had fallen 40 feet off a bridge at 10 times the legal limit of BAC and gouged his head open. Said they just glued his wound shut and told him not to touch it. Says he woke up in handcuffs and had been in handcuffs most of the night.

Said they cut his clothes off except for his pants. I sneeze and he says God bless you. Says he should have "woke up dead," but didn't and said that God must love him. He kept pulling those stickers off his body where they attach the electrodes for the heart monitor one after the other.

Says it still hurts and that he must have a hard head to fall 40 feet onto concrete and still be alive. He said his other homeless buddies gathered his stuff and kept it for him at the scene cause they knew him. Very kind gentleman, dressed fairly nicely and with a deep country accent. I wished I'd had my medical kit with me that day to donate him a few items to take care of his cut, but didn't. Something had been telling me to pack a first aid kit with me on the bus recently but I resisted it since I don't really want to haul any more than I have to. This may have been what was urging me to do so. Did I fail?

Ankles Aweigh.

So today I awoke and found only a pair of those ankle high socks left in my sock drawer. I chose to wear my old work boots today and the material on the inside around the ankles has cracked as the years have passed. It was like having socks filled with lead paint chips ride up and down my ankles for 2 miles. Not pleasant. Don't do it. I walked out with plenty of time to my stop but halfway there I realized I'd left my badge at home. This put a bit of a hitch in my giddy-up and I had to dash home to grab it. Thankfully I made it back before my driver docked the bus up to the wonderful slab of freshly poured concrete that gleamed in the morning light. I cracked open a copy of H.G. Wells's Time Traveler and was immediately thrust into a wonderful world of regal english vocabulary and stuffy sounding characters. Why I haven't read this yet is beyond me. It prompted me to come up with an idea for a t-shirt as most all good literature does: "Time travel never solved anything."

I arrived at work with a layer or two less of skin on my ankles and figured anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but somehow over the course of the day, I seemed to have forgotten that I'd have to also walk back to the bus stop and when I set out, I set out at a slower pace than I'd realized and found that I was about 10 minutes behind schedule so I hoofed it walking, not running full speed as there were many police officers out for some reason and who needs to be stopped for looking suspicious running away in street clothes at this time of night. I got free of their view and broke into a dead run about a quarter of a mile from the stop and I arrived none-too-soon as the bus sidled up next to me as I gasped for my composure before climbing aboard the bus. There's always that one guy who has to run to catch it and tonight it was my turn. I was that guy. The rest of the ride home was uneventful and there were enough people on board to dampen the horrific cold weather squeaking joints that had plagued me the prior night and I was able to read in peace.