Public transport – Commuteritis

For those fellow souls that have to regularly commute via public transport (like myself) I’m sure you can empathise with this:

Commuteritis – being sick of other people on public transport.

There’s always one roaring into a cell phone talking about rashes and sexual conquests and such things that us normal commuters wouldn’t dream of talking about in public.

There’s always one that closes the window on a stuffy bus or opens the windows on a freezing bus.

There’s always one that allows the rest of us to appreciate their tastes in music. No matter how eclectic.

There’s always the one picking an orifice - ear, nose and yes other ones too.

There’s always that member of the opposite sex that you make accidental eye contact with more than once and they automatically assume you fancy them no matter how many time you flash your wedding ring.

There’s always the one with the bad breath/body odour issue.

There’s always one with 500 bags of shopping or a huge backpack that whacks everyone when they are getting on/off the bus.

There’s always the one with long hair/dandruff that dangles/sprinkles onto you when you sit behind them.

There’s always the one trying to read your email/text over your shoulder.

There’s always one guy sucking mucus from his nose down the back of his throat and swallowing loudly making everyone else nauseous.

There ‘s always the one that counts out their change 5 cents at a time leaving us sitting at the stop for an era.

And my personal favourite – The big ignorant Mick who always pushes on in front of everyone else regardless of the order of arrival at the stop.

Share your communteritis-isms!

The week of the roses.

I’ve decided to dedicate next week to smelling the roses.

The idea came to me last Friday. I consider Friday to be my treat day. A kind of self pat on the back for a good week. My treat is to veer a little off my usual route to work and walk through St. Stephen’s Green. I usually walk up the periphery but once a week I allow myself to walk though the park. Even at this time of year the grass is lushly green and there are evergreen bushes dotted around. By far the best thing is the birdsong. Oh my what a sound. It makes me feel alive and invigorated hearing the sparrows twittering and the blackbird singing. Its marvellous.

Last Friday however, I failed to stop to smell the roses. I walked into the park and I was so preoccupied with a work issue that was waiting for me in the office that before I realised I was standing at the opposite end of the park waiting to cross the road. I had wasted my walk in the park. I considered my actions and concluded that every day I fail to see the fabulousness of my home. Ireland is a breathtakingly beautiful place. I think we just don’t see it anymore.

The economic setbacks (I know I hate myself for mentioning it too, but it’s a part of all our lives!) have put the country in a funk and I think we feel a bit stuck in the mud. My day usually consists of home, bus, office, bus, home. I barely notice the people who share the bus journey with me even though by now they are familiar faces. That’s when it came to me, we fail to smell the roses because we don’t even notice them any more.

So this is my project. Next week, from Monday to Sunday I’m going to be smelling roses. I’m going to notice the world around me and watch for things that make me smile or make me happy. Its going to be seven days of reminding myself of the privilege I have to be living this life. As an atheist I don’t have the security of an Eden waiting for me after this life. This is it for me, this life is all I have and for this reason it’s even more vital for me to absorb every second and try to notice the small things. Take time to smell the roses!