Seen and Heard: Shuttle Stories

I inadvertently overhear a lot of crazy stories in the shuttle. It's not my intent, I dislike eavesdropping, but there's nowhere to go; it's a closed space, and people share their craziest lowdown in a normal volume of voice, as if they were in a car alone together.
Some are just not ashamed of their lives, and kudos to them for that; it takes a strong person to laugh at themselves openly in public. However, some of these things are so TMI - poop stories, stories involving squishy sounds that don't end well (they never end well), he cheated on me now I have nowhere to live but with his mother, etc - that I never thought to post them. But, hell, every now and again, something comes along that you can't keep to yourself - a story so great it can only be shared with the whole World Wide Web.
I sat in the second row of the shuttle while the two girls behind me in the third row spoke loud enough that I'm sure even the driver couldn't have tuned them out.
They spoke in the diglossia of immature female voices that are not so far from the Valley Girl inspired accent they were in the process of outgrowing. They haven't become adult enough to drop it altogether, voices an octave higher than really needs be. It sounds forced, like someone clinging to a youth that everyone within hearing distance is probably desperate for them to drop.
Although, we are a competitive bunch in this field. Perhaps these ladies are struggling to be the most feminine, and they believe a higher pitched voice equates chic femininity. I don't know and I don't care; I'm just grateful no one in my team feels that way. I'm crass enough to drop a snarky comment here and there if I was exposed to it on a daily basis.
But, I digress, these two people were speaking loudly and in falsetto post Valley Girl era voices.
"Ommigod, so, like, I was at a Birthday party last night? ...in a trampling park."
"What's that?"
"It's a big room with giant trampolines? -like, everywhere."
"Fuhhn..."
"Yah, it was. Everyone had such a fun time..."
"Yah, I behht."
"Yah, only," and she paused to giggle in an awkwardly intimate way, "There was this one thing that happened? ...that was kind of bahhhd."
"Oh no, wha-happened?"
"Ommigod, so, Dave? ...came bouncing up to me and was like, 'I'm gonna jump over you.' And I was like, 'No, you're not.' And Dave was like, 'Yes I am, I'm really good at this, I've jumped over someone as tall as you before.' And I was like? 'Idon'care, stay away from me.' And he was like, 'I'm gonna warm up, but when I'm done, I'm gonna come over, and I'm gonna jump over you.' ...yah... So, I tried jumping by myself, away from everyone because, like? I didn't want him jumping over me."
"Yah, that's nuts."
'Yah, he's so stupid," She gasped with disgust, "Dave." Then they sighed simultaneously, so I guess Dave has a reputation for this type of antic.
"So, I tried staying away? ...but people kept following me, all like, 'Why are you bouncing by yourself?' ...and then Dave would bounce over again and be like 'I'm gonna jump over you.' It was so scary."
"Yah, I behht."
"Yah... and so, eventually, he came up to me and he was like, 'I'm ready, I'm gonna do this. Hold still, don't move, or I could land on you.' I was so scared. I even bent my knees a little, in case that helped."
"He is a buff guy..."
"Yah, he's super in shape, and if anyone could do it, I'm sure it would be him, but still..."
"It's a dude jumping over you."
"Exactly!" I once sounded that excited when I finally found someone who agreed at the atrocity of corporations running news organizations, promoting not even politics anymore, but their own [evil] corporate agendas, which absurdly value their future pro-baller rapists. Well, someone else besides me who isn't a blogger on Jezebel, that is; a fellow sober Centrist lurking awkwardly at a party full of drunk Republicans who only blinked bleary eyed and rushed off bored when they'd tried to join our conversation, which, by the way, I've summed up way too generally. However, this girl was excited because someone finally agreed that having a dude attempt jumping over her didn't feel like a safe or sound idea.
"Well, you don't seem hurt, what happened?"
"So, he jumped? ...and he landed crotch first. Right. Here."
I didn't turn around to see what part of her body she gestured to because that would be crossing the line between overhearing and eavesdropping, but I really struggled to hold back laughing openly at this girl.
"Om-m-m-igod," her friend said, trying to sound comforting through laughter, which came off incredibly condescending, "Aw, that's so embarrassing. But, at least you fell back on your butt, right? I mean, at least you were on a trampoline."
"No, he stopped himself literally on my face, like he used my face as his brakes, and we both went down together."
Her friend gasped politely and she must have made the appropriately satisfying 'are-you-kidding' facial expression, as well, because Trampoline Girl said, "Yah, I know."
"Wow."
"Yah, my ears were ringing, I had to sit down, like I couldn't move for a few minutes. The guys who worked there came over and yelled at us for not jumping safely. And I was like, 'It wasn't me, it was him.' But they didn't care and I thought they were going to ask us all to leave. Like, I'm injured, my face hurts, and I was so embarrassed that the room was spinning, like? ...I was dizzy ...but then they just walked away. We weren't kicked out and I was like, 'phew!' That would have been so bahhd if it's someone's Birthday and we had to leave because of that. I mean, I'm so clumsy, anyway? I can't believe he did that."
"Awww."
"Yah."
"I'm sorry that happened."
"Thanks, yah, those parks are super dangerous."
'Yah, that's what I heard. Sounds like it was a lot of fun, though."
"Oh yah, other than that? ...it was so. Much. Fun."

And then, on my way out of the shuttle, my wrap dress unwrapped itself in the wind (wrap dresses: will I ever learn???) and I gave the warehouse employees a great show they won't soon forget, I'm sure.

So there you have it, one shuttle ride, two embarrassing stories, 
HotChaCha.

The Importance of Being Annonymous

There's not enough honesty in this world.

My boss once brilliantly said, "If truth were deodorant, most people would stink." She's onto something there.

People feel so much pressure to be good, passive human beings; but how many of us can be passive? I'm no Alpha, but I'm no Beta, either - surely, I cannot be alone in feeling that way.


What's funny, though, is how people regard you before they know who you are. It's like that girl at work who I would sometimes see walking around the building. Without fail, she would always eye me up and down, smirk judgmentally and, if we had to communicate for some reason, speak condescendingly to me. That changed the day she realized what team I work with and what role I happen to have within it. Her initial behavior was the truth. She didn't like my forever-unkempt hair, or maybe it was the lack of make-up on my face or my eclectic style. She judged me on that, and, while initially I found it amusing when she suddenly avoided eye contact and her tone changed to a polite whisper, after a while, I kind of preferred the judge-y behavior. At least it was honest - someone who takes a lot of time to look impeccable maybe wouldn't have much respect for someone who would rather spend her morning running than sprucing up. She had no problem being aggressive before she found out my name, when I was still anonymous to her. It gave me a chance to raise an eyebrow at her superficiality.

My name, ha! Like anywhere outside this company it means anything. I am neither famous nor actually important. The label I work for is exceptional, and through this job I shine, but what is Pedigree without a little pretension? Perhaps we all let it get to our heads a bit and maybe that's dangerous.

If I ever did create something worthy of being judged by others, I don't think I'd put my name on it anymore. There was a time I would have, but that ship sailed as I learned how people change their tone when they know they're speaking to you regarding your work. I even want the gender of the pseudonym to be androgynous and left to interpretation. I want the harshest criticism spoken plainly and in an impassioned manner.

I want that regarding anything I'd create.

Today's Meditation: The War of Internal Progress

Looking back seems to lead to results of which no good ever comes. Usually, nostalgia makes me insecure, opens old wounds, makes me feel [thiscloseto] where I began when I was looking to change. Sometimes, though, the stars align, a blue moon shines down on us, and the rare occurrence happens where you look back at where you once were and can witness the obvious progress you've made.

Today, I had such a delight.

I decided to tally all the work I've done for my employer which happened to make it into their runway show. It is by no means the sum of all the projects I've done for work, but it does show the strengths I've developed over the past year and a half.It shows the responsibilities they trust me with.

I added a sampling to the bottom right of the screen, if you scroll down you can see it.

When every day has felt like a fight within myself to become a better patternmaker, seeing the progress I've made is not only inspiring to continue this internal battle, but it shows me that I am valuable, that the struggle is worth it. I am worthy of working here, of being among these talented people. Of course, I borrow their talent every so often (as they borrow mine). It shows me, though, that I can do this.

Gosh darn it, I might make it, after all. 

Who is the rude one? Conversation Sandwich.

Sometimes it is so apparent how socially awkward I am that I wonder if I should take the Asburgers test online again. I find myself in situations wherein I feel incredibly uncomfortable but everyone else is so nonchalant, that I wonder if it's just me with the problem...

Say someone is standing some place while waiting in line or at the water cooler filling up his/her giant water bottle, and two people, strangers to the first person, walk over already in the midst of conversation. Then, these people walk in different directions for different reasons - someone is at the sink and someone is at the microwave - but they continue to converse despite the fact a person with ears was already there quietly and is now sandwiched between them. These people continue to have what should be a private conversation, talking through this person as if he/she were not even there.

Is that considered to be eaves dropping? It better not be. I mean, there's nowhere to go in this situation. I can't tune out what's being said over my head as I wait for the impossibly slow water to trickle my bobble bottle full. What is appropriate? I am allowed to join in with, "yeah, dude, you should probably see a doctor and a lawyer about that." Would that exacerbate the level of rudeness or reflect the awkward vibes they threw my way?

I didn't say that, but if I had, would I be rude? Who is rude in the conversation sandwich, the meat or the bread?