Jennifer #12

silly me to choose to relocate to the unfriendliest city on earth at the dawn of the fascist coup. the absolute worst time to be so far from one’s community. Really really bad timing on my part.

and it’s very confusing because it’s hard to distinguish between the rudeness and aggression of Bostonians on trains, sidewalks, streets, highways … and the vengeful aggression of Trump supporters.

which is strange because this is one of the most progressive cities in the country, but I guess progressive political leanings do not always extend as compassionate behavior.

so when people i pass in the hallway at work who do not say hello or even make eye contact should I just assume they:

  1. are Bostonians ?
  2. are Trump supporters?
  3. are both?
  4. do not particularly like me in particular?
  5. are unhappy, period?
  6. are happy being unfriendly?
  7. are thinking that I am the one who is unfriendly and that they are just responding to the vibe I am giving off?
  8. all of the above?
  9. something in a realm beyond my comprehension?

But the nice thing is that when someone at work actually does make eye contact and say hello, that is almost like a shock to the system. It really wakes me up.

I decided to give my copies of the New Yorker to the woman who is the friendliest person to me at work. And now she is especially friendly. And of course totally not a Trump supporter. And she wears cool dorky glasses. I have to find out where she is from because she certainly does not seem like a Bostonian or a New Englander.

So far most of my conversations with her do not get beyond, “Hi. How’s it going?” But I can’t tell you how nice it feels to get a little break from invisibility.

Of course her name is Jennifer. Jennifers are always the friendliest.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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