The T, in all its glory

I fully expected that riding the T to work would be an experience unlike any I'd ever dealt with on a daily basis. Well, I was right. 

There are some aspects of my daily commute that have surprised me somewhat. I've noticed that, luckily, few people who ride the T are coughing and hacking and sniffling. You would think that with the sheer volume of people, there would be at least one or two in each car who would happily pass along their cold. Or perhaps it is exactly because of the sheer volume of people that no one has a cold. The astronomical level of germ exposure has rendered everyone simply immune. I'm happy that it's winter and I don't look like a weirdo if I just keep my gloves on...

Next, I found that the commute is quiet. Bizarrely so. Aside from the creaking of the cars and whroooshing along the tracks, there isn't a sound. No one talks, not to each other, not on their cell phones, not to themselves (well...there are exceptions) But I guess the silence makes sense. I mean, I'm so used to being at school where everyone travels in packs. No one commutes in a pack. That's not how it's done. And we're in New England, so clearly no one would dream of starting up a conversation with the person standing 4 inches from them. Thus, silence. It's good for reading, and much better than uncomfortable small talk with strangers.

I have also had some striking coincidences while riding the T recently. This afternoon, I looked up, and across from me there was a girl wearing my exact glasses frames. I have had this pair for 3 years and never seen them anywhere else. Aside from her being blonde, blue eyed, and generally rather more delicate than myself, it was like looking in a mirror. Well, ok so not really, but still.

Stranger than that though, a couple weeks ago I saw this guy getting off the train and knew that I knew him. It wasn't one of those, oh hey, that guy looks an awful lot like someone I know, maybe it's him, it was more like, holy crap! I know that guy! It was a guy I had worked with in San Remo this summer. Yes that's a big stretch, but the kicker is he's British. As in from Britain. Which is far away. Well, I thought it was cool. Anyhoo, I didn't get to talk to him on the T (cause it was so damn crowded), but I did send him an email when I got home. And I was right, it was him, he was in town for the week, but was leaving the next day, so we didn't get to meet up anyway. 

Small world, united by public transport. It's been an interesting ride, and I'm sure that isn't about to change.

A look back...

So I'm working on backdating my blog. I'll be posting the group emails that I sent out chronicling my time in Italy this summer. I haven't edited them so they may not be as polished as I might hope, but I think their sincerity and enthusiasm speaks for itself. So if it looks like I haven't posted anything in a while check out any summer entries. They're probably new. 

Pardon my French

Every once in a while, we all have moments of idiocy. Believe it or not, I am not immune. I know this little anecdote is going to seem trivial to most, but for me it's proving to be a series of events that just won't stop mentally replaying. And I cringe every time.

I was on the T yesterday after a busy day of work. I thankfully managed to grab a seat and I settled in with my copy of The Princess Diaries (not to worry, I've finished that and am now reading a Toni Morrison - I like to mix it up). I was quickly distracted from my book when I overheard snippets of conversation in French off to my left. I got very excited, and continued to stare at my book as if reading, while really concentrating with all my might on eavesdropping. To be honest, I didn't catch much. I was dying to butt in, but managed to restrain myself.

Well, at least until the conductor announced that the train was being taken out of service at the next stop, and we'd all have to get off and wait for the next one. I seized my opportunity and turned to the nearest francophone and said in my most beautiful French accent, "est-ce que vous avez comprené?"  He had me repeat it. "Est-ce que vous avez comprené?" Finally, after the third repetion, he said, "Oh, oui." I was a little miffed that that was all I got out of it. Not even a grudging, "merci."

It wasn't until we had gotten off, stood in the freakin' freezing cold for 5 minutes, and boarded the next train did I realize why he hadn't understood me. I had used the wrong past participle of comprendre. Yes, that's what's this whole freak out is about. I said "comprené" instead of "compris". And I can't let it go. The kid on the train was probably thinking, "Hell yeah I understood, cause clearly my Eeenglish is way better than your French." 

Which might be true. BUT it shouldn't be. I mean, after 5 years of French classes growing up, and then a minor in the subject while studying in Montreal, you would THINK I could ask, "Did you understand?" without screwing it up. So yeah, I felt like an idiot. And I'm not sure sharing my idiocy with you makes me feel a whole lot better...

*le sigh*

Bring it on, Bean-town!

So, I have been in Boston for a little more than a week, and I have already enjoyed more of a social life than I've had in the past 4 months lounging at home. Thursday was drinks and a Bruins game with the work gang. I'm really enjoying the people in my department, so that's really encouraging. Saturday was an impromptu jam session (Bach style) with my piano-playing upstairs neighbor. Then that evening I went to a birthday party in Cambridge, flying solo. I've never done that, and I was nervous to go without a back-up crew. I was very pleasantly surprised to find that in a way it makes mingling easier, and the group that was there was totally inclusive and friendly. Success! So basically, I am just so thrilled to be here, starting my life for real this time. Maybe being and adult is gonna be better than advertised...

Where am I?

I feel like I've been living my life for the past couple days as an out of body experience. Time is just flying - each time I look up I feel a sense of surprise to find myself wherever I happen to be at the moment. Not surprised to realize, Oh I'm not in Connecticut but in Boston, or Oh I'm in my NEW apartment, or Oh I'm at my NEW job. It's more along the lines of discovering myself suddenly in the kitchen, or on the T, or standing in front of the photocopier, and wondering how I got there. And somehow, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I'm not unsettled or unnerved, I just feel oddly removed from myself. 

I think another thing that is starting to dawn on me is that a huge sense of relief is emerging. Even though I spent much of the last 4 months sitting around without daily commitments, I was dealing with a lot of stress. Now that many of those issues have come full circle, and I am well on my way to making a life for myself, in a sense, I can relax. Certainly I aspire to work hard, do well at my job and carve out a social niche here, but at least now I can actually begin rather than just wait around, impatiently drumming my fingers. Relief comes with action. 

Now as soon as my head can catch up with my physical self, I can start enjoying this newfound sense of contentment.