We were on the phone with each other. We talked.
We also got on to Google chat. So we chatted. While we talked. Conversation happening. Fingers typing . Messages flying back and forth.
She sent me youtube links to music videos she wanted me to watch. So I watched. While we chatted. And talked.
Then we told each other about interesting websites. So we browsed. While I watched. And we chatted. And talked.
I uploaded pictures on Picasa. And then I shared those with her. So she saw. While we browsed. And I watched. And we chatted. While we talked.
It was amazing. It was an hour well spent.
It was two best friends. In different parts of the world. Talking and chatting and watching and browsing and looking at pictures.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Me, the subway rider.
Subway riders.
The aggressive ones in a rush to get somewhere. Missing a train is a cardinal sin in their books. So as they climb the flight of stairs to the platform and should they hear the train rolling in, they run. They dodge, they push, they run and sometimes they barely squeeze in through the shutting doors. The train cannot be missed. Even if the next one rolls in a minute after.
Then there are some who don't. Rush, that is. They miss a train. Even, deliberately sometimes. When it is too crowded and people are squeezing themselves in like sardines in a can. These will then choose to wait. For the next train. Just stand there , listening to their music, reading their books or kindles , doing their crossword. wherever they have to get to can wait another minute or two.
The crazies. Oh and you see them often enough. Like that guy who definitely seemed to be high. He just walked up and down the coach in slow motion, with a smile on his face. Just walked up and down, smiling, making everyone else nervous. Bloody drug addicts, they said to themselves!
The other crazies- the talkers. Talking away to themselves. I sat next to one , once. I wanted to hear. She talked incessantly for 20 minutes about a NASA conspiracy. To herself. She didn't seem like she was going anywhere. She was just sitting there talking to herself.
The office goers. Suits, pencil skirts, high heels, laptop bags, blackberries, Morning paper, Starbucks, looking forward to being at work faces, hating to go to work faces, sleepy faces, raring to face the day faces.
University students. Jeans, T-shirts, tights with boots, jeans with boots, backpacks, Tim Hortons, texting fingers on cellphones, earplugs, heads moving to music, sleepy faces, looking forward to class faces.
Mostly everyone has earphones plugged into their phones. Connected to the MP3 players or phones. Loud techno, some swaying, some rock their heads. There in definitely a lot of music playing on the subway.
An occasional mom or two with her kids. A three year old fascinated by the train. A baby in a stroller. Mothers mostly look nervous. Hoping the baby won't cry or the toddler throw a tantrum.
The there are the grade school students. They come in packs. Once in a while on their way to a field trip. Noisy, talkative- they bring the 6-9 year old energy into the train. They like standing up and trying to balance, without holding on. They like sitting by the window.
Crossword doers. Sudoko doers. Video game players.
Avid readers. Newspapers. Metro- The subway paper. News, gossip coulumns, ads. The Toronto Star. Sometimes, a Globe and Mail. Books. Mostly paperbacks- easier to carry. The Secret. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. How to be Rich Quick. Life's a Pitch. And a few magazine readers thrown in for good measure. And these days, an increasing number of electronic readers.
The tourists. You can always tell. They scan the subway map. They listen attentivley to every station that is announced. They talk about every station that passes. They look out the window. They look around. They compare transit systems of cities.
Subway riders. An interesting lot.
Subway rider- Me. I'll miss a train. I listen to music. I am a crossword doer on some days. A reader, on others. I am not a tourist. Never play a videogame. Have been the nervous mom with the stroller.
Guess I fit right in. One way, or another. But I never squeeze myself in like a sardine.
The aggressive ones in a rush to get somewhere. Missing a train is a cardinal sin in their books. So as they climb the flight of stairs to the platform and should they hear the train rolling in, they run. They dodge, they push, they run and sometimes they barely squeeze in through the shutting doors. The train cannot be missed. Even if the next one rolls in a minute after.
Then there are some who don't. Rush, that is. They miss a train. Even, deliberately sometimes. When it is too crowded and people are squeezing themselves in like sardines in a can. These will then choose to wait. For the next train. Just stand there , listening to their music, reading their books or kindles , doing their crossword. wherever they have to get to can wait another minute or two.
The crazies. Oh and you see them often enough. Like that guy who definitely seemed to be high. He just walked up and down the coach in slow motion, with a smile on his face. Just walked up and down, smiling, making everyone else nervous. Bloody drug addicts, they said to themselves!
The other crazies- the talkers. Talking away to themselves. I sat next to one , once. I wanted to hear. She talked incessantly for 20 minutes about a NASA conspiracy. To herself. She didn't seem like she was going anywhere. She was just sitting there talking to herself.
The office goers. Suits, pencil skirts, high heels, laptop bags, blackberries, Morning paper, Starbucks, looking forward to being at work faces, hating to go to work faces, sleepy faces, raring to face the day faces.
University students. Jeans, T-shirts, tights with boots, jeans with boots, backpacks, Tim Hortons, texting fingers on cellphones, earplugs, heads moving to music, sleepy faces, looking forward to class faces.
Mostly everyone has earphones plugged into their phones. Connected to the MP3 players or phones. Loud techno, some swaying, some rock their heads. There in definitely a lot of music playing on the subway.
An occasional mom or two with her kids. A three year old fascinated by the train. A baby in a stroller. Mothers mostly look nervous. Hoping the baby won't cry or the toddler throw a tantrum.
The there are the grade school students. They come in packs. Once in a while on their way to a field trip. Noisy, talkative- they bring the 6-9 year old energy into the train. They like standing up and trying to balance, without holding on. They like sitting by the window.
Crossword doers. Sudoko doers. Video game players.
Avid readers. Newspapers. Metro- The subway paper. News, gossip coulumns, ads. The Toronto Star. Sometimes, a Globe and Mail. Books. Mostly paperbacks- easier to carry. The Secret. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. How to be Rich Quick. Life's a Pitch. And a few magazine readers thrown in for good measure. And these days, an increasing number of electronic readers.
The tourists. You can always tell. They scan the subway map. They listen attentivley to every station that is announced. They talk about every station that passes. They look out the window. They look around. They compare transit systems of cities.
Subway riders. An interesting lot.
Subway rider- Me. I'll miss a train. I listen to music. I am a crossword doer on some days. A reader, on others. I am not a tourist. Never play a videogame. Have been the nervous mom with the stroller.
Guess I fit right in. One way, or another. But I never squeeze myself in like a sardine.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Wildflowers and a 6 year old
My 6 year old went to the woods today. And brought me back some wildflowers. A bunch of white. A stem of purple. And then some random yellows, reds and oranges.
And as he handed them to me he explained how he had not plucked a single one of them. He'd picked them up from the ground. Because he felt if he'd plucked them, he'd be hurting nature. Taking away from the woods what wasn't his to take away.
And in that explanation, he had articulated my "still evolving" view on education. My growing belief that education goes much beyond the walls of a classroom. It goes into the woods where a 6 year old boy will know how not to tamper with nature.
A bunch of wildflowers collected from the ground. Report cards fail in comparison.
And as he handed them to me he explained how he had not plucked a single one of them. He'd picked them up from the ground. Because he felt if he'd plucked them, he'd be hurting nature. Taking away from the woods what wasn't his to take away.
And in that explanation, he had articulated my "still evolving" view on education. My growing belief that education goes much beyond the walls of a classroom. It goes into the woods where a 6 year old boy will know how not to tamper with nature.
A bunch of wildflowers collected from the ground. Report cards fail in comparison.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)