On my way to Work

This is the second writing exercise I have done within a week. I should do them more often. More time than I would have liked has passed by between me and keeping up this writing exercise of a blog. I truly love this.
I have decided to post these exercises, even if nothing else seems like worth writing. They are fun, and when you put your thoughts down on paper, you hear your language, you see your thoughts, and they make you laugh...at least it does for me. And who doesn't enjoy laughing?

Here is number two. Typed this morning on my phone while walking from my apartment to the train for the daily commute. Since I couldn't really keep an eye on a clock, I just selected a 5ish minute-long song.
Tulips (Club remix version) it is.

Stepping outside to an exhilerating, face-stinging March morning; violent gusts whip my hair all 'round, yet scarf - neatly set in place - moves not, as it is tucked tightly and deliberately inside my sweater (so as to not get mouthfuls of scarf fluff from the wind), parka zipped all the way. Bloc Party melts into every crevasse of my skull, negating all other sounds (thank you Klipsch).
"...crying into the night, wearing my jaaacket/ wearing that smile..."
There she is, the lady with her three filthy pugs. It's as if she believes NYC will fine her if she does pick up her dogs' poop. My head tilts upwards to the dazzlingly clear sky...I probably shouldn't do that the whole way, since the wind rushing up my nose makes me gasp.
OK, I'm awake!!
"...this could be an opportuuuuunity..."
Well...a used neon red, ribbed condom. I wonder if glows in the dark. My reflecting on the false hope of an early spring is interrupted with thoughts of earthworms.
"...it's as pure as fire, it's as pure as snow/ I knew that I'd found you..."
Spring means summer is close. Summer is Mr. Softee. Summer means ocean beaches and possibly Brussels and/or Qatar. Summer means August...intrusive, oppressive. Humid. I can wait.
"This could be an opportuniiiity..."
Yes-hello-there-Mr.-Cop-sir-please-stop-staring-at-me-like-that look.
I love it when the little Walking Guy symbol pops up as soon as I reach the cross walk (not that the Red Hand ever really stops me). Oh nice...huge bus blocking my straight path to the subway entrance.
"If you promise to let it/ if you promise to let it grooow..."
The mass of people all listen to their mothers' advice and walk behind the bus. I pass infront and triumphantly beat the entire crowd. My card swipes through the turnstile without a troll, and I bound down the platform steps to be greeted by a Q Train with open doors? It's a good morning.
" 'Cause you're the one I looove"
Play on, Tulips...you're at my favorite part.
No seat? No sweat. Better view of the graffiti this way.
"ah ooooo oo oo ooo ooo..."

A Writing Exercise

A close family friend is a writer. He shared a writing exercise on the blog to which he contributes. Here is the exercise from his original post.

Very funny - as I was drafting my exercise, the Poster actually calls. Eerie IS eerie…I step out of the room shortly after. You see, he was in town for work, so we met up for drinks, dinner and much needed catch-up and guffawing. 

Here is my exercise I left in response to his post:

Ah – perfect timing to see this. I’m in a meeting where, frankly, I have no hope of grasping it’s topic: Economic Indicators and the Education Market with subtopics: how to reform our Consumer Confidence Index into something professors would incorporate into their curriculum.
At some point, I am supposed to update all on how our experiential program offerings could be used for MBA students. Until I hear my name, I shall continue doodling spider webs in the corner of my agenda copy.
I shall type my “notes” with my thumbs and nod when appropriate. Economic jargon is not getting easier to understand, as I once hoped. I will never have a numbers brain.

The perpetual din of the two type-A co-hosts talking over each other almost completely drowns out the whirring from the florescent lights and dull hum of the projector (presenting a cryptic Company Offerings vs. Academic Discipline Matrix). Never have I heard the words “matrix” and “leveraging” so much in my life.
I’m saving the piece of pomegranate candy in my sweater pocket for when I get bored. Hard candy in jacket pockets reminds me of a Mr. Bean episode.
Thomas is calling me.
“leveraging”. There’s that word again…candy time.