Chivalry really IS dead.

I was on the bus Wednesday morning when I witnessed an interaction between two people. I am not sure if it counts as a conversation if it lasted in the matter of one minute but it was something that sparked a lot of emotions in me and something that is worth noting, or rather... blogging.
So I take the dreaded seventy Coxwell to school and on the way is East York General Hospital so not only is the bus packing at least , I’d guess 70 – 80 people from East York but it also carries doctors, nurses, and patients on their way to the Hospital. So there is a variety of riders any given day and on Wednesday there was no exception. I sat in my same seat in the back looking over the bottom layer of the bus when I saw an empty seat up for gr2abs and I also watched two passengers head for the same seat. A man no older than 30 and a woman in what appeared to be her early forties and about 8 to 9 months pregnant, (in fact she looked like she was heading to the hospital to pop the kid out) headed for the only vacant seat. To my surprise the man (if you can really call him that) saw the lady heading towards the chair and he sped his pace up. He stole the chair from under her and began to unfold his Metro News.
“Wow... Chivalry really is dead.” She spoke my exact thoughts.
“Women want to be treated as equals this is what they get.” The spineless twerp muttered in her direction and proceeded to read what was wrong with the world while literally experiencing it.
At that point I had the strong desire to kick this pathetic excuse for a man where his manhood apparently is. I could probably rant and complain about how much men suck and how our world’s standards are slowly decreasing for pages and pages. I could most likely write a book about the subject in fact. But at this moment in time I just want everyone to think about it. I mean whatever happened to a man holding a door open for a lady and offering a seat. I mean I don’t expect anyone to offer their seat to me or hold open any door I am perfectly capable of pulling open a door and standing for fifteen minutes but If I was pregnant, ten years’ younger or 50 years older I don’t know about that. I could never sit idly by while an elder was standing on the bus because I have respect for them.
That woman was carrying a human being inside of her, something a man could never do. She should be treated not just equally but she should be treated with the ultimate and upmost respect something that man cough chauvinistic pig clearly knows nothing about. Everyday occurances like those make me want to live in the fifties where women were respected ... but then again I can’t cook and or wear those clothes so maybe not.



Bathroom meeting
“I just can’t understand why he won’t just ask me out already. We have been hooking up for 3 months now. He always tells me he loves me.” – Girl number One
“You are too good for him! I don’t get why you refuse to move on.” – Girl number Two

How typical, and no this wasn’t an advertisement for the new movie He’s Just Not That Into You. Although it could easily be. I have yet to see the movie, but I plan to soon. It looks good enough and I’m a huge fan of Drew Barrymore. Back to the point not yet made; desperation. These two females (not like my previous endeavour with the co-workers) were incredibly interesting and kept me entertained during my visit to the bathroom. I was in the stall CHANGING! into track pants get your mind out of the gutter people when I heard the conversation begin. Jackpot. Hearing the way the girl described her relationship with this boy she seemed to have been holding on to the hopes of something more. He had told her that once his marks get better then he can commit to her but until then he wouldn’t have a girlfriend. This poor girl believed him leading me to believe she was in grade nine. She continued to moan and groan about the dysfunction and how she feels used whenever she’s not with him but how she feels completely at peace when in his vicinity.

At this point I realized I have been in the stall silently taking in their entire exchange and feel all too creepy, I wondered if I should crouch on the toilet seat so no one would see that I had been sitting there for the past 8 minutes. I didn’t. The conversation ended shortly with no resolution, and it seemed as though the friend was tired of hearing the same old things and had nothing new to say. I have nothing negative to say about this conversation, (for once?)Putting aside the fact this girl decided to pour her heart out in a public bathroom. I simply felt completely sympathetic towards this girl. Was it worth it? Why should a guy dictate how she feels about herself? It was wrong. It’s sad because people will probably judge this girls situation and see her as the pathetic one, I saw it and immediately judge the guy. I am not saying this girl is too young and naive to think for herself I just believe that this boy full well knows his affect on the girl. I once heard a quote from Henry Louis Mencken “A man loses his sense of direction after four drinks; a woman loses hers after four kisses.” Women can tend to listen to their heart more so then their brain at times which may lead to poor decision making. At the end of the day I would love to talk to this girl and tell her that there will always be other guys, guys who want to be with you and guys who deserve you. Unfortunately I didn’t see her, only her shoes, beige Uggs. Shouldn’t be hard to track down in our school right?

So ... how about that snow?

As I waited for the bus today I was provided with ample opportunity to once again tune into the lives of those around me. I was in search for an interesting conversation but all I found was mindless chatter. As the bus pulled into Coxwell station I pushed through the crowd to sit in my usual seat in the back of the bus by the window, if you can call it that, it’s more like a piece of glass coated in mud and variations of dirt and snow-like materials. Back to the assignment, with a coffee in one hand and purse in the other pretending to read a newspaper while listening in would not work so I watched my shoes, (that of which need a good cleaning) and began my second venture into the world eavesdrop.

I witnessed the interaction from start to finish, two early-thirty-something women waiting for the same bus. It started off with the ever so awkward “Hey! (I don’t know you but you work on the same floor as me and I hear about your life and all your shenanigans on a daily basis) How are you?” Let the small talk begin. As I sat down I was rather disappointed when the two women sat in front of me, I was hoping to find a conversation full of stimulating material and something told me that these were not the people to provide. They sat down and started in on what else, the weather. The two women discussed the benefits of hoods. No not the word that is often referred to as a ghetto or slum no they were talking about the piece of fabric that is attached to a coat or garment to protect your head. I kid you not the women directly in front of me described what she feels while wearing one as and I quote “ I feel Invisible, if there is a hood on my jacket I am prepared for every and anything.” Really? At this point you are wondering why I would choose this exchange out of the possibilities.

It is because I utterly hate small talk. I don’t want to become a critic of all things and someone who comes off as a cynic. This is not my intention, I just happened to blog on two conversations in a row that irritate me. I assure you the next one will not be so negative (I hope). I cannot bear small talk, I hate the immense pressure I feel to keep the conversation flowing in order to avoid the awkward silence that will surely follow after you have said all there is to say about the weather patterns in Toronto, its cold and grey out... amazing. Why do we feel the need to fill silence with words that will have no affect on us in the slightest? I personally have pulled the whole ‘listening to my iPod and far too busy to even notice someone’ in order to avoid awkward encounters. When I see the guy who sat three rows behind me in grade seven am I really expected to talk to him for the next ten subway stops? I am sorry but I would rather finish the book I am reading.

However every now and then I do run into someone I know and we do have good conversations. But that is because we chose to skip all the light informal conversation that interests no one. We steered clear of the schedule at school, homework, mutual friends, and the dreaded weather topics and got right to the stuff that matters. What is that stuff you ask? Well for every person it varies, for all I know you could thoroughly enjoy talking about the weather patterns going on outside. If that’s the case I sincerely hope you and I never get stuck on the same bus.

And so it begins..

Why hello all, firstly I would like to thank Ms. C. for giving me the opportunity to creep on strangers this time I have cause. Since the recent heartbreak (my iPod broke) I have become dependent on the conversations of others to entertain me on my 15 minute bus ride to and from school. This assignment was made for me and my stealthy or otherwise referred to stalker-like ways. My first victims were a group of fifteen year olds (I am making a superficial assumption considering the tacky leg warmers that were so last year / two decades ago and also their love for the Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus suggests a naive quality that could only belong to said age group). This group of girls were discussing the party on Saturday picking up on some words here and there I quickly tuned in.

I actually laughed out loud on several different occasions listening to these young girls discuss alcohol and drugs and sexual activity as if it were cool and normal. I was probably like them at one point, I probably thought the same things and acted the same way what do I know and it's not like I am so much older and wiser but I feel as though I am. One girl who was atrociously skinny and had hair that was reminiscent of Whitney Houston and Barbara Walters, an odd choice yes but so was this girls hair, any who, she rambled on and on about how while she was up-chucking in the sink her crush " the hottest guy in E.Y " came in and asked if she was okay just to quickly turn around and leave. Yeah, sounds like he is a great catch and cares a whole lot. I couldn't help but feel utterly sorry for her, she would live to regret this behaviour soon enough and bragging about it won't make it all better.

I don't know why society has placed partying as a top priority and the main source of everything fun and cool but my idea of a great time involves all of my friends in Kat's basement playing Rockband, eating food and or watching a great movie ( preferably the movie ends in our sides hurting from so much laughter or our eyes swollen from so many tears).Some may call that entirely lame I wouldn't care to be honest; at least when I look back to my High-school years I can remember getting 99% on Living on a Prayer and not having leftover spaghetti in my hair and ruined shoes.