With Birddog still down for the count I've been taking the bus to work this week. I'd forgotten how much I actually enjoy riding the bus. The constant stream of characters getting on and off are good fodder for my already overly active imagination - the Chinese guy with waist-length hair and Fu Manchu mustache who sat talking biblical prophecy with the driver (as I, ironically, listened to Clapton singing Crossroads); the petite teen girl in the babydoll gauzy black top, brightly colored plastic bracelets, and ballet slippers with glittering skulls on them; the businessman with the pinched and worried look on his face who sat picking at his cuticles; the middle-aged black woman with the old-fashioned lunch pail replete with peacenik stickers; and the cast goes on. My fellow humans are an interesting lot. I wonder what they think of me - middle-aged white girl, long brown hair, glowing blue eyes and a slight smirky grin as I sit studying them and listening to my tunes.
Yesterday on my mile walk to the bus stop after work, I got caught in a downpour. I mean... it was a-rainin' hard! A real soaker. Deluge. I was sopping wet by the time the bus driver got there - shirt totally soaked, hair dripping like I'd forgotten to towel off after a shower, shoes squishing with water as I walked - but I was smiling big, as I'm just weird enough that I love being out in the rain. As I boarded, the driver said, "Didja get caught in that stuff?" "No," I said. "I've got wicked bad problems with my sweat glands ... here's your sign." Fortunately, he got the Bill Engvall reference and let out a great bellowing laugh, along with a muttered, "Guess I deserved that..."
It all put me in good spirit - better spirit than I've been in lately, to say the least. The difference got me to thinking about my attitude lately, about how much better I deal with things when my attitude is good, and about how I'm the only one who can change my attitude. True enough speech for all of us. It comes from within. No one can make us feel anything - good or bad. (*winks at T-man*) It's also interesting to me that sometimes the simplest things (like getting caught in the rain) can change my mindset, perspective, or perception. Thing is, I've got to be looking for those things and be open to them. This being human shit is such a process... *heavy sigh* My imperfection drives me nuts.
"It's not having what you want,
It's wanting what you've got."
~Sheryl Crow, Soak Up The Sun
I'm not a wealthy woman (*sardonic snort*) - not even close! Still, I have much. So much. I have a rich life, and that's really all anyone can ask for. I've got love and good paprika; an only slightly amorphous sense of my own style; a life filled with music, words, art and creativity amid this constant stream of entertaining stuff in my braincase; a solid (if somewhat perverse) self-preservative sense of humor; and a fine circle of honorable folks that I call friends. Apart from the paprika (and I know where to get it cheap), none of it can be bought. So, yeah. I'm rich.