Galadriel

Days ago, I plugged in a Facebook status: "My boss rocks". I got a few responses, such as "you deserve it", and "I don't believe such a thing exists". I wrote that status after I went out for lunch with my boss, then off to Winners to shop for the remainder of our generous lunch hour (when you're with the boss, you can get away with 'stretching' lunch). So far, I really like my boss. She's nice to me. She is communicative. She appreciates my work and strategically says things to improve my sense of self-efficacy, which is a 5-star quality of leadership that most people in management seem to lack. I keep wondering if this could all be true. I'm afraid that it's a hoax of some sort.

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But it's not just all about how nice it is so far to work for my boss. My boss fascinates me. She shows up every day sharply dressed in perfectly tailored clothes, glowing skin, and immaculately sculpted hair that appears not to be bound with sticky spray. Everything she says is expressed with complete self-assurance. She exudes health and beauty. She eats organic snap peas and bowls of blueberries for a snack. There is a small china bowl full of cherries on her desk at all times. She drinks decaf, and doesn't eat sugar. She has raised 3 daughters, as well as 2 adopted boys, all the while through those years working out and staying in shape. She still stays in shape by exercising over her lunch breaks: 1/2 hour runs. She does this despite the demands of being a Director. But that's not all. She has a massive multi-story house in some paradisacal part of the city, wrapped with numerous porches and surrounded by a yard comprised of tiered gardens. Every room in the house is perfectly decorated according to a theme; every object in those rooms has a purpose. For all of her daughter's weddings, she designed and sewed the dresses, because aside from everything else she does, she is a tailor. On her vacations, she sails on the west coast of B.C., and gets perfectly tanned. She is still perfectly tanned.

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Normally I would be shaking my head, thinking "this can't be true, this can't be true". But it is. Such a person exists. Galadriel, the elven queen, in the flesh, working under the guise of a Director within the Alberta government. And she's my boss.

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Like a battle-worn, beardy dwarf, all I can do is look upon the glitter with awe, hoping that perhaps a few of those sparklies will fall upon me.

The Bus

I know myself well enough to foresee when a new thing will lose its charm. Not all new things lose their shine. But the bus ride to and from work definitely has.
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Surprisingly, it’s not even the nauseating bump and grind of the see-saw hell ride itself. It’s not the 40 minutes of mind-numbing boredom, or the same old scenery passing by from day to day. It’s not the quirky bus drivers, or the hair-curdling screech of the tires as they grind to a halt every couple minutes. Rather, it’s the freaks on the bus. And I knew on my first day of riding the bus that the novelty of the ride would be quickly worn down by those freaks.
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I now understand why the seasoned bus folks wear head phones. It’s to remove oneself from the slushpit of human psyche hideously confined within the tin can. This reminds me, I need to buy batteries for my gear so I can do the same. Perhaps then, I’ll be able to tune out the woman who compulsively chews gum every morning, producing a popping bubble every ten seconds. Or how about the guy who grunts every time he exhales air. Or the chick who talks to herself (I told myself that she’s probably wearing a cell phone headset and talking with a friend, until I saw that she wasn’t).
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It's fascinating how everyone in the front of the bus, at least within my view, slips into a heavy slumber on the way home. Kind of like natural, temporary, self-induced euthenasia. Yesterday I was noticing that absolutely every one of them had their eyes closed. One woman’s head was bobbing around loosely and, in an attempt to escape boredom, I watched for the moment when it was going to smack her neighbor in the chops. Admittedly, it wasn’t long before my eyes were closed, being lulled into oblivion by the alluring states of mind of those around me. That is, until the bus jerked to a halt, which happens about every 2 minutes. There goes the knot in my neck, tied just a little tighter.

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What I find amusing is that my car quit on me the day before I purchased my bus pass. She knew of my plans, and had some plans of her own: retirement. “Now that you’re all taken care of, I’ll be here in the driveway. For good”.
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Um, I don’t think so, car. The bus sucks. You’re going to the garage.