Random Observations on a BART Train Ride Home
The girl in the seat in front of me is wearing a flowered skirt and wreaks of puke on this Wednesday night. Radiohead is playing on my Pandora and is breathing new life into me. A man-child with a well-thought-out goatee is swaying in a pin-striped suit, gripping the Bart hand rails like he’s on a rollercoaster ride. A mid-week jaunt to distract him from his corporate misery. As far as anyone can guess, we live in the same world. But I know the truth: I’m intentionally living on the periphery, carefully riding the edge of the wave without submerging myself. I like keeping one eye on the door and one hand on the handle.
Admittedly, my own agenda is too jam-packed between yoga, meditation, and my own personal development for any soul sucking demands and deadlines. I take a shallow breath as to not inhale any puke fumes from the flowery girl in front of me, who is now almost passed out with her face smashed against the train window. I look around and wonder… Does anyone else question their world and their decisions the way I do? Does anyone question their reasons for maintaining their carefully guarded perspectives? Or do we all just mindlessly herd ourselves like cattle in and out of the city each day? From the looks of it, I would say that generally people seem to prefer to keep their safely constructed ideas locked away, reverberating as a gentle hum in the soundtrack to their lives. The danger and fear in dismantling these ideas is far too great.
Not everyone has a loving and committed relationship with the unknown the way I do, I remind myself, as I touch up my lipgloss and take note that we are now in Oakland.
“Ride” by Lana Del Ray comes on my Pandora, and I officially feel like the music Gods are speaking to me. I am suddenly overflowing with contentment.
My freedom haunts me. The more I get, the more I want. The idea of impending freedom hits me like a heroin injection. I find it slightly insane and simultaneously flattering that people sometimes admit to me that they like my outlook on life. Are we living in a parallel universe? I feel it in my bones that I am right where I belong. Saying I march to the beat of my own drum is an understatement. I dance to my own jam.
Sometimes the truth is unveiled in the unlikeliest of situations. Someone is texting and I pay no attention. I’m in Orinda and time is running out. I treasure my BART ride solitude.
My Road, My Life 
One must also appreciate the ones that live lives as drones for without them, some others would not have the ability to pursue their own dreams. Airplanes, trains, etc. were all built by people who only live for the release of weekends for work is only a means of getting there. Books were written by people who spent hours trapped by their passion in little rooms surrounded by no one. All of these are people who live lives of quiet desperation, but they keep the world moving, both physically and emotionally. You must appreciate them.
Thanks for the comment, Roger. Very well said, and I agree with you. These people do indeed deserve the utmost respect for their hard work and dedication.