Making It Up As I Go Along #413

“Bonjour, C’est Josee!”
The world is divided into observers and actioners. Perhaps some would say doers should be listed. There are doers in this world, it’s true. But observers can be doers just as actioners can.

I see myself as an observer. And I wish there were more of us and fewer actioners. I’m tired of people proclaiming themselves to the world for no other reason than to say “look at me!”

Unfortunately, the world is becoming built for actioners. An example could be as simple as your car. Some cars are built so that the only way they can be locked is with a button that also toots the horn.

So even an observer must proclaim themselves to all others from time to time. Getting home at 2:30 in the morning... toot your horn to let the neighbours know you got there alright! Or risk a doer lifting your GPS system or in car stereo.

Cell phones say a lot about people. Conversations on the phone in the middle of a concert is an obvious point towards an actioner. But there are other phone hints out there.

In public, I set my phone to vibrate. I figure it’s the thing to be done. Yet I sit in physio therapy, glued to a bench by electrodes clamped to my knee, and separated from strangers by only a curtain.

Yet those strangers, in the same predicament as me, act as though they’re sitting in their living room. Cell phones chirp and tweet and sing 1980s hair band rock... all with the goal of letting the person know there’s someone waiting to talk to them.

The answering does bring a subdued tone hurrying off the line. I figure “oh, what’s up? I can’t talk long I’m at physio” is appropriate. Yet they blather on for ten minutes about a meeting that will come in two hours. The pre-amble chatter to what will likely be a session of blow hard yakking.

So there I lie, trapped in one side of a stranger’s business conversation. And when it finally ends, this person decides it’s a good way of passing the time. They decide to make a few phone calls of their own.

At least I’m left without their annoying ring tone. But they’re so close, I can actually hear the ringing as they await the person to pick up on the other end. I hear a machine pick up one call. And I hear a gruff voice in a mumble (my distance from the phone makes clarity into a mumble).

But be it machine or person, the voice on my end is loud and clear... a saccharin sunshine that proclaims everything that can be disingenuous. “Bonjour, c’est Josee!”

This woman makes Oprah Winfrey appear reclusive and subdued.

It’s all pointless. Nothing that’s said can’t be said when she leaves the office. She’s not calling a loved one to tell them to get out of the house because terrorists have set a bomb to go off in fifteen seconds. But she has no thought of others in the room... all she’s missing is the cup of coffee, the feet up to let the toe nail polish dry, and a magazine to thumb through in order to elevate the boredom of the chatter she’s partaking in.

I remember movies depicting life in the twenties and thirties. Where people gathered in great numbers in train stations. Each with a news paper, passing the time quietly, in their own thoughts. These great halls of space have hundreds of people within them and the quiet envelops them. A rustling of paper is the only occasional sound.

Today, six people can’t sit in a medical office without someone proclaiming for all to hear “Bonjour, c’est Josee!”

In the modern age, there is only one place where you can be alone with thoughts, even in a public domain. It occurs aboard airplanes. Especially during night flights.

Perhaps it’s the fear of arrest. Planes have gotten about as casual as a police line-up where a witness is about to point out “it’s number four, yeah... that’s the guy.”

We all know that if you anger the flight attendant, they may tell the captain, and if he gets miffed, well this plane may put down on some airstrip where you’ll be escorted down a narrow path of shame while the people will stare at you with scorn in their eyes. And the elite class of people, up laying down with cookies and champagne, will be the last judging eyes you’ll see before finding the back of a police car.

But I hope there’s another reason for the quiet of flight. I find it within myself and I hope it’s the same in others. When I fly at night, I may have movies and music at my beck and call, but I leave them all alone. I sit at my window, and peer out into the darkness. Looking down from above at black nothingness can’t help but make you wonder what goes on in this part of the world beneath you. Are animals sleeping in depressions along side a small grove of pine?

Is the night silent from the ground? With only a rustling breeze whispering to the vastness as stars shimmer above... and only mine... this “star” I sit in... drifts across the sky, blinking lightly.

I’ve flown over many a town and city at night. The bustle of Montreal occurring quietly below me. A few homes along the “x” of two country roads... with sleepy farmers, drifting off in front of the glow of a hockey game... the only light that strobes and flashes against the opposite wall of the living room.

And once, on the way in to Halifax, as we neared the end of our decent, looking down into the twilight darkness of forest, marsh, rivers and lakes. The lone light being the orange glow of a camp fire. A father and son? A couple looking for an evening out from the city and under the stars? Some buddies on the first night of a fishing trip? The possibilities of that orange glow are endless.

It’s all interesting. All mesmerizing. To look down on the world. The ultimate observing.


MONDAY...
— One of the most annoying days in a while... starting when I wake. I bend my bad knee a little more than I should while stretching in bed and get a shot of pain for the cause.
— Physio is also annoying. Curtains just aren’t enough people buffer. The person closest to me for 45 minutes takes two phone calls and makes four others. She doesn’t have her phone set to vibrate... and she speaks in loud, saccharin sunny French... “Bonjour, c’est Josee!” I almost pulled the curtain open and told her to shut it. The other thing you see at this physio office is a lot of people who want to complain to the therapists. Not about them... but to them... about their day. Stupid this, and unbelievable that... again... shut it! And for some reason, the therapists forget about me by the end of the time. I swear I’m there fifteen minutes longer than I should have been and, in the end, I take it upon myself to end it.
— Feeling crummy, so I skip work. Of course, the two hockey games tonight were awful. Montreal gets killed and leave me suspicious of the officials and the league. Gary Bettman would sure hate to see Ovechkin knocked out in round one... and some of the calls/non-calls leave you to wonder of league instructions to referees. And the late game is no less annoying. Goals called back due to kicks... even though there was no kicking motion. And other such things.

TUESDAY...
— Sleep in and a little TV before work. Work is pretty quiet. Just three of us... me, Cosimo, and Nichole... I like the small work crew. A little hockey when I get home. Oh, and speaking of hockey, funny how, at work, a few Ottawa fans were commenting to me about the Sen game.. And we saw issues almost completely opposite. They saw Pittsburgh players mocking Chris Neil as arrogant... I saw it as fun. They saw Andy Sutton’s “Are you an expert” silliness as smart comebacks to a dumb question... I thought he was the dumb one. Funny stuff how different people are.

WEDNESDAY...
— Physio looking like it’s going in the right direction. Friday I’ll do the stationary bike... with mine possibly soon to follow.
— Montreal loses again after a good two periods. Such an incredibly frustrating series.
— Vancouver pulls one out in the third. A bit of hope.
— Referees in the first round of the hockey playoffs are likely more inconsistent and flat out wrong in their calls/lack of calls than I’ve ever seen before.

THURSDAY...
— Fairly ordinary work day... getting lots of use of the iPod Touch at work with podcasts and music.

FRIDAY...
— Physio is going insane. 2.5 hours there today... so long that I’m an hour late by the time I get to work and get changed. It goes well though... I’m on a stationary bike with no problems... but the physio culture is getting on my nerves. Giggley kids... snoring women... blah.
— Can’t bring myself to do anything more than occasionally refresh TSN’s website in order to follow the Montreal game while at work. Late, with the game 2-1 for the Habs, I consider taking a break and looking for a TV to see the end. But I fear I’d jinx the team, so I stay put. 2-1 the final... game 6 on Monday night.
— PVR the Vancouver game and watch it when I get home from work and groceries. They blow out LA... most relaxing and satisfying. Fights at the end... O’Brien does well but show boats to the crowd afterwards... not impressive. Rypien then fights moments later and does it right.

SATURDAY...
— Some baseball on the playstation. Practice (yes there’s a batting practice) and home run derby... I’m a ways away from game action... but cool cool game.
— Movies tonight. Sarah and I take in Date Night. Love Tina Fey and Steve Carell... don’t love their movie. Too bad.