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Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Thoughts in Bus 062

Seated near the window in the back, he had a quiet depressed presence surrounding him. His tie was too loosened up, it almost seemed as if it was going to fall down any time the bus swerve to the right and then left...and right again. Cousin Nerie called him up at work that day, bearing all the bad news he could have imagined. It explained his early leave from work--he found out his dad had a heart attack and did not make it to the hospital. He was never close to his dad yet the news still left him dumbfounded, as if a giant slab of stone was put over his head, hurt, and worst, just suddenly proceeded into his throat. It had been hours since he took the bus 062 home although he had not gotten out and let the damning bus in circles... he asked himself: "When will it ever stop?"

Other thoughts wandered through his head "Maybe if I was a little nice to my old man, I wouldn't be here, feeling guilty. I don't know what to do. Damn it, Mario! Go home. Go see your old man..." and tears poured out, like rain in the middle of summer--profound, nevertheless, melancholic, coming from a man who was clenched to his collar, gasping for air.
--

The same day, the same bus, an African-American old lady was seated in her wheelchair, up-front. She wasn't sad, she was thinking deep, her face, the map of the world. Grocery bags were assembled nicely in the floor, as she watched 'em moved gracefully with the engine. Happiness was questionable although her body language translated appreciation for the food she was about to bring to her six grandchildren. She found them, all diversed in their own means, under the bridge near her house one day, asking for some change. Out of pity but mostly annoyance, she decided to welcome them in to her humble house of crumbling walls and pictures of family she barely see twice a year. After 20 minutes of oblivion, she snapped out of her thoughts:

"What am I going to do with these kids? I am not getting younger or richer. I just hope they will learn how to own up to responsibilities soon. I am really counting on Alliyah but she's busting up so much with that loser boyfriend of hers..."

and realized that it was already her stop.
--

"Ninguna suerte hoy. No quiero seguir viviendo como este. Ellos la gente blanca sigue tratándome como la suciedad. Sólo porque no digo su lengua, esto no significa que soy menos más elegante. Deseé que yo no debiera haber tomado mis posibilidades y sólo haberme quedado en México donde, aunque el salario mínimo yo ganara no alimentó mi familia correctamente, éramos todavía felices. A diferencia de aquí ... vida es lo peor. Debo seguir luchando...Dios mio!" Juanito's thoughts reverberated within. In the same bus, 062, he sat peacefully in the center, his legs moved back and fort, as if he could not wait to get off and be with his wife who was actually prepping some delicious carne asada at home. She had a 5 dollar raised from taking care of old people in a retirement home and gotten a big tip from one of the families who came visited that day.

Juanito on the other hand, was still puzzled how to get another racket, while he thought of asking one of his compadres if he could get a job in the Mexican restaurant he currently works at. He just wanted to have a decent job before career day at his son's school. The pressure had been bothering him a lot because, like any parent, he just want his kids to have a better life--better than what he was having. Hopefully, he thought, better than he'll ever imagined.
--

Another person, seated near Juanito, looked too peaceful, as if he had no worries in the world. Ryan looked straight ahead, indifferent about everything that surrounded him; not the wailing in the back, anyway nor the noise outside. Deep down however, he was full of anguished. If he could have, he would have...ran out in the back and suffocated the wailing man in the back or robbed every passenger of bus 062. Nothing compared to a 23-yr old something guy who had emotions which ran deeper than the ocean. Stupidly, he decided to quit his job because of a tiny misunderstanding with one of the female managers on his "ex" company. Stupid perhaps since he had not had another job,

"How am I gonn pay for my bills!? Fuck..Fuck...Fuck... Stupid bitch! ..."

was all he could think of--all the cussed words seemed to apease his anguished and calmed him down for just a second. Although afterwards, he was back to an internal battle number 95672. If only he still had his xbox to keep him company, to ease the pain and frustration that's building inside and most definitely the hatred he had towards himself. He believed it's the closest he could get into his ideal reality: gang bangers, grand theft autos, and hello, HALO!
--

A young couple, seated in the 4th sit near the front looked like a happy ending to a movie. The girl's head on the guy's broad shoulder, the guy's arm around her. Little smirks graced their beautiful faces; young love did not quiet look so promising as theirs. Dreamy sighs were exchanged back and fort and the disturbing sounds that surrounded them sounded like hawaiian lullabies to their grungy ears. Not a single word was said yet it seemed as if they understood each other with or without. The silence were meant to cause more hormonal love; they were attached to each other like siamese twins, cats, mind you. Thoughts were hidden behind amourous taspestries and only introduced by their inner selves, guilty, and deep inside more confused...scared?

The guy said "I hoped she doesn't find out about Kendra. I really...uuh...what's the word? Like? Love? ..I care for her."

The girl said "I am scared to feel it; because even if im not trying to, it is still too powerful...the feelings. I do not want to get hurt in the end. Maybe...hopefully...he doesn't hurt me. I am scared. Does he really like me?"

If only minds can talk out loud. If only, babe.
--

Bus 062 did not run out of personalities that day. Another being, a girl with average hair that stuck out, sat behind the two lovers. She was smiling like a psychological muse, and she knew it too. A list of thoughts loomed in her head but the one thing that was memorable was the thoughts of food.

"I am hungry now... I want some Thai... to thai or not to thai? That is the question..."


We all have our different stories and as i have spent a good amount of my time riding the Orange Line, I have encountered people that I created my first impressions of. I could go on and on with this but I won't bore you any further. We're special, no doubt, but most of us, do end up worrying about our problems...we think about them, a lot actually and that's where "being special" draw the line. That is where we are not-so different from the others. We have our own stories but they're all the same stories under the categories of sadness, caring, hatred, love and sometimes just as basic as thinking about what kind of food to eat. WE THINK everywhere, even in a bus 062. I've just thought. Enjoy!


  1. Translation: No luck today. I do not want to keep living like this. Them white people keep treating me like dirt. Just because I do not speak their language, it doesn't mean I am less smarter. I wished I should have not taken my chances and just stayed in Mexico where, although the minimum wage I earned did not feed my family properly, we were still happy. Unlike here... life is worst. I must keep fighting...

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My mind's unweaving/ 10:04 PM

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Tis written unlike no other in my attempt for creativity. Here, you'll find *fragmented fictional and real stories that are relevant to my life in some ways. I don't enumerate things that happens to me everyday nor do i purposely rant about lame, stupid "teenage" cliches. My entries are from memory, past experiences, reviews (food, book, movie) and my opinions on current issues--and no, no politics whatsoever. Grammatically incorrect to a degree but nothing that can make you squirm (or so I hope not).

P.S. Put in mind that I'm a scrumptious-looking cupcake and you know you can never, EVER, resist me...so no hating or you'll never get to eat "us" again! lol

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