Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Who Are Those People?

Have you ever found yourself on a rare expedition outside the confines of your cube or office and on the streets mid-day? Have you ever wondered why there are so many people milling about? Did you ever think, “What do these people do for a living?” And then ask yourself, “How do I get their gig?” I’ve become one of them. I’ve become a roaming, providential pedestrian. Seemingly unfettered but full of purpose none-the-less.

We live a wonderfully diverse neighborhood. It’s not uncommon to find yourself in the line at CafĂ© Vita sandwiched between a hipster with tattoos and piercings and a mom stopping off for some java after dropping her child off at school at Seattle Academy of Arts and Sciences. There are the happy yoga-ites and the truly down and out. There are artists, musicians, writers and dancers. There are suit and tie types, software engineers in jeans and t-shirts, government workers, and the under or unemployed. I feel at home here. I feel that I’m not being judged here. Differences are appreciated here.

Yesterday, though, I was downtown for a few errands. And I felt a little out of place. I was surrounded by people with company badges around their necks or fastened to their belt loops walking with Subway bags in their hands – going back to work to eat their sandwiches at their desks before their next meeting. Women, with full on makeup and hair just so, in suits and carrying briefcases in their well manicured hands. Men in sport coats jaywalking. Young men wearing dress shirts and ties looking cocky and self-important.

Me, I was walking in flip flops post pedicure, with my shopping bags in hand and heading to the market to buy tulips with no great plan after that but to go back home and sit on our deck and read in the sun.

I’m not at the point where I’m feeling lazy or anything. The days whiz by like a baseball pitch going past the plate at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. I think I’m pretty productive in this new, unstructured lifestyle I’ve got going on. On occasion, though, my husband will ask, “What did you do all day?” Sometimes I say, “I don’t know.” And that’s the truth. Time seems to have shape shifted on me since I’ve been laid off. It has sped up.

I’m not quite sure what people think when they see me walking around mid-day now with no particular signs of stress. If only they knew that six months ago I was always rushing to the next thing or walking down the sidewalk furiously typing a response to an urgent email and dodging people so I didn’t collide with them. I think they would have said back then, “She’s bonkers.” Now, they’re probably thinking, “How do I get her gig?”

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