So I'm well settled into my role as mild mannered SENIOR DESIGNER ™ at a local Wellington newspaper. I call and attend meetings, lay out copy, pictures and adverts, sit in front of a ho-normous screen and drink gallons of tea while swiveling in my captain's chair. Life is pretty good really.
Today I decided to Notice Things on my walk from where the bus drops me off, as I amble down Vivian Street. In no particular order...
Many teenage girls continue to talk like American West Coast valley girls. I noticed this on the bus. I am forced to blame the Television Box, or possibly Marilyn Manson, though I'm aware that his use-by date as the blame-du-jour is wearing somewhat thin. Do teenage boys talk like this too? It's possible; I don't have any of those on my bus to compare.
Outside Victoria university there's a mass exodus of doomed worms, the rain and heat sending signals into their little pod-brains to wriggle forth from the bark gardens and set out across the concrete path and onto a major vehicle route. Their thin pale little squishy bodies were the very expression of hopeless optimism.
My reflection was briefly caught in the windows of a passing bus that roared by, looking rather like one of those old style animations.
And while I'm on a narcissistic note, I noticed that when I'm stomping along with my cane, my left arm wants to start broadly swinging out as a counter balance, making me look a bit like some kind of deranged metronome while I walk. I decided to just let it happen, it kinda adds to the overall effect of Stern Cane Guy Walking Meaningfully that I have going on in the mornings.
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