Saturday night karma
Forgot to mention...last Saturday evening, I paid it forward.
Was on my way out to the club, so I was Gothed Up: red and black brocade, black velvet, eyeliner, boots.... Now, when I'm in goth mode, I commit Random Acts of Goth Kindness, smiling at people, chatting with little old ladies, and the like, just to work on people's image of what Gothness is. I'm also more likely to be chipper when in goth mode, and the mood makes me do strange things. Anyway.
Decided to hop the bus into town instead of walking the hour-plus to get to the top of O'Connell, and chatted with a late-middle-age lady who was already sitting at the bus stop--covered all the nothings of nicety, the weather, the neighbourhood, the traffic. She's talkative to the point of garrulousness, but cheerful, so I don't mind sitting next to her and talking about her kids moving out, and her recent trip to Israel. She goes on about how she's finally gotten away from an alcoholic husband, finally independent, finally doing things for herself, and how she's so v. grateful to be that way at 55 years of age.
I decided I want to be that confident when I'm that age.
She mentioned that she'd had knee surgery three times already, and kept looking at her watch. It was getting late, and she was going to miss the last bus that might get her home to Raheeny. She cheers all the green lights and moving traffic. I laughed.
Getting off the bus on Westmoreland Street, I offered to walk her to her bus stop near the Abbey Theatre, so she leans on my arm and we leg it across a bustling O'Connell, cutting across the Quays. She was having to cut it fine, so I ran ahead to check whether the bus was there, and hold it for her if it was. Asking some other girls loitering around another stop, she'd missed it by a couple minutes. So I put her in a cab to get her home.
Good luck, Patricia. I hope the goth kids are nice to me when I'm your age.
Was on my way out to the club, so I was Gothed Up: red and black brocade, black velvet, eyeliner, boots.... Now, when I'm in goth mode, I commit Random Acts of Goth Kindness, smiling at people, chatting with little old ladies, and the like, just to work on people's image of what Gothness is. I'm also more likely to be chipper when in goth mode, and the mood makes me do strange things. Anyway.
Decided to hop the bus into town instead of walking the hour-plus to get to the top of O'Connell, and chatted with a late-middle-age lady who was already sitting at the bus stop--covered all the nothings of nicety, the weather, the neighbourhood, the traffic. She's talkative to the point of garrulousness, but cheerful, so I don't mind sitting next to her and talking about her kids moving out, and her recent trip to Israel. She goes on about how she's finally gotten away from an alcoholic husband, finally independent, finally doing things for herself, and how she's so v. grateful to be that way at 55 years of age.
I decided I want to be that confident when I'm that age.
She mentioned that she'd had knee surgery three times already, and kept looking at her watch. It was getting late, and she was going to miss the last bus that might get her home to Raheeny. She cheers all the green lights and moving traffic. I laughed.
Getting off the bus on Westmoreland Street, I offered to walk her to her bus stop near the Abbey Theatre, so she leans on my arm and we leg it across a bustling O'Connell, cutting across the Quays. She was having to cut it fine, so I ran ahead to check whether the bus was there, and hold it for her if it was. Asking some other girls loitering around another stop, she'd missed it by a couple minutes. So I put her in a cab to get her home.
Good luck, Patricia. I hope the goth kids are nice to me when I'm your age.