The Noticer

I notice stuff. Actually, I notice everything. I notice when people notice me. I notice when people notice that I noticed that they noticed me. I notice when people notice that I noticed that they noticed that I noticed they noticed that I noticed that they noticed me. I think I think too much. People make funny faces when they notice you. They either look right through you so that you won't have to make eye contact and do that awkward half-smile thing; or they look at you and then blink and then turn away. Noticing is weird. I always noticed the extras. I noticed that your fly is undone. I noticed that your nail polish on your left thumbnail is chipped. I noticed that one pant leg is kinda bunched up and you can see your sock when yu walk. Yeah. I noticed that, too. But God know, I never noticed those things about myself. My thumbnail polish is always chipped. My fly is always down. My little white Michael jackson sockettes are always showing. I am a mess. Because I don't really notice myself. I should, I guess. I should notice myself. But that could lead to unstoppable bouts of self-critical, self-refexsive, self-loathing. I feel more comfortable noticing others.
I always think about what woudl happen if I did more than notice. I mean Vancouver is a somewhat big city, I could avoid people if I wanted to. It's not like I haven't doen that before. But I always imagine little scenarios for people I notice. Create a little soap for them that relates to the littel thing I noticed about them.

Take this morning for example. There was this 40-ish Persian guy on the bus. He was wearing khaki-mustard pants and a khaki-mustard sweater over a crisp white shirt and some cheap business shoes from Payless, or something. He kept leaning everywhich way and was trying to figure out where the bus was headed and kept checking his watch. I think he must have hasd a job interview because he looked so uncomfortable in his clothes and he had one of those messenger bags ( to keep his resume in). I knew he had a family becasue I saw i wedding band on his finger. I imagined that he and his wife had recently immigrated from Iran and he was deapartely looking for a job so he could pay next month's rent. I imagined that they lived somewhere by Joyce Skytrain Station in a basement suite and that his wife worked long hours with a cleaning service. I'm sure he was pretty well-educated and was probably looking for a job way below his skill level.
Is that weird? That's not the only thing I do when I noticed strangers.
Sometimes I imagine what they would do if I did something completely random to them. Like today when I was wlaking down Davie Street and this homeless guy was just waking up. And he was so happy for some reason. He wasn't cute. he was kind of old. But we was really smily and he was like "Good Morning young lady." and I had such an urge to give him a big hug. Not like anything sexual. But just you know, I was listening to a fun song on my ipod and it was all sunny and the homeless guy was in a friendly mood. I felt like giving him a hug. Then at the gym yesterday, I was waiting for my step class to start and all teh girls were waiting outside and just chatting or whatever. And this girl sat down next to me on the bench when there really wasn't any room for her on the bench. And I was all hundled with my bag in my lap and trying to take a drink of my water. But I didn't have enough hands. I wanted to just drop my bag in her lap for a second while I took a sip of water. But I didn't. I just put my bag on teh floor and scowled.
Okay. the more I write about this, teh more weird it sounds. I'm doing to stop right now. Stop writing that is. Not stop noticing. I could never.

Current Mood: Notice-y
Currently Listening to: Beautiful by Belle and Sebastian.