The Way I See It # 583: Train Observations

(This post was written while en route to Washington D.C Saturday night.)



I often forget the comfort of traveling alone. The independence, the wanderlust, the never-tiring view from my cabin window, lost when I am fixed to the city or the suburbs. I wish Richmond had it’s own metro system; that way I could enjoy the thrills of the city, and still be home in time for dinner. There is news of revamping the trains system between Richmond and Washington, and I’m all for the change. I feel alone in my train-appreciation, and while the thought of having a bullet train with a 90 minute commute to Washington is mouth watering, it’s also semi-decidedly off the menu. The cost of creating an entirely new train system, including repairing the tracks that Richmond has, would cost well over 4 billion dollars. That type of moolah is rarely seen these days, well, for things that don’t have much consequence for the rest of the Country. Maybe our new Governor will have some affection for strategically placed pork and get it done.

I think I might enjoy going off on my own to travel and just “figure things out for myself”. On the one hand I would be terrified. If I told you that I was open to even the smallest changes, I would be lying. Being out of my comfort zone is difficult, I’m the first to admit this, and the first to try and address it.

But traveling costs money. This trip alone will cost me $60 round trip. But the plumping of my savings account is encouraging now that I have two jobs. You’ll often find me scribbling down my accounts in my newly purchased treasury book ($12.00). Does this make me money obsessed? Who isn’t now-a-days? With unemployment looming, and my financial future in question, I’m not ashamed of breaking down my budgets, writing down expected profits, and planning accordingly. I think knowing how much money you earn, and how you spend it is more important when you’re young. Old habits die hard, they might as well be good ones.

I think that at every important age you can look back and review what you’ve done with your life. This happens to be pretty depressing, but only because I’m so young. What would be more depressing is if I only ever amounted to what I was at this age when I am older. I doubt this will happen. I have big dreams, and when I honestly think about it, I am completely convinced that I am going to succeed. I don’t know if this is foolish or not. Perhaps it is the dumbest thing in the world to have high hopes and standards for yourself. I’ve always been one to have high standards, and I tend to hold people to them. I think that was a major reason my last relationship fell apart. I’m trying to do better, but I really think that my whole life will be guided by these standards that I try to live by.

I feel like I’m growing up and learning how to take care of myself. This may lead to unintentionally hurting others in the process. No one has higher demands than my own mother (apparently standards are genetic), and while I have standards of my own, I am bound by hers first and foremost. I value our relationship, but sometimes I feel like I am a child. My acts of rebellion are often squashed before that can fully take effect, and almost always they are done in an attempt to prove my independence, and usually prove that I am, in fact, not smart enough to handle everything and anything.

Train watching is something I like to do while riding the rails. I tend to pick out people my age to watch.

I’ll describe the passenger to my right.

He was the second person I saw when I arrived at Main St. Station, and the one I focused my subtle attention to. A young man, around my age I would guess, standing at around my height was sitting in the wooden benches when I threw my stuff down. Slightly heavy, his hands were resting on his stomach while he peered past his glasses down at the book in his hands. He is mousy with curly brown hair, and instantly reminded me of a boy I used to go to school with. Constantly teased, he was the butt of every joke, but this boy sitting in front of me seemed fine with the wear, at first. His face was serious, mouth down-turned and stern, and slightly pursed. His attire was typical, camouflage shorts, nearly matching the rumpled duffle bag at his feet, and a dark shirt. He glanced up at me, our gazes met, and he looked down again. In a situation like this I rarely get intimidated. I continued to study him, and he either didn’t noticed, or didn’t care to point it out. It wasn’t until his raised his arm to adjust his glasses that my thoughts of my school friend were confirmed. Several neatly aligned scars were etched into his inner forearm. He’s dealt with feelings everyone feels, but responds to differently.

Back in grade school I would have been embarrassed and stunned. While stunned, I’m not embarrassed for him. Nor do I think of him any less, but I feel sympathy. Though I have felt the range of human emotion, I never once felt compelled to deal with it in that way. I’m grateful, but I don’t see this as anything other than my own controlled intentions. I don’t like to be out of control, and I guess that neither does this boy.

Fast forward to us sitting across from each other on this train, and he received a phone call. The first I heard him speak! I am disappointed by what I hear. Not only is he loud, but he ungraciously uses profanities, and I’m left wondering “Can looks really be this deceiving?”

This train just passed over part of the Potomac, I assume, and the water was so still it looked like glass. I’ve never seen that before.