One evening as I was preparing to board a bus back home I did some mental exercises and a few 'woooosaahhh's' to help me deal with the city. And by city I mean the unemotional assholes of this world. The ones where the city has hardened them to an unmalleable substance. Where the soot, grease and oil intertwine throughout their DNA making them the terminator from the first of the franchise. The one who did not befriend you through cheesy one-line zingers such as 'Hasta la vista baby' and 'I'll be back'. Either way, one has to be mentally prepared for these kill-joys. Luckily, I was one of the first ones by the door along with a much older gentleman who happened to be my stepping partner. We kept shuffling to pair ourselves with the doors while the bus slowed to its designated spot, almost like a sideways conga line. All we needed was some Latin flare in our upper bodies and we would have nailed it. As the doors finally opened the older gentleman said really loudly, 'the lady goes first'. I was like well which lady is this and why does she get an announcement?! And besides, I thought me and... let's call him grandpa Herbie, had a mutual thing going on with our cha-cha-ing. Did I mention he was in a cute little suit?! Awww little Herbie!
Anyway, I looked around trying to catch a glimpse of this Whorebag who got the privilege of getting on the bus before me despite having shuffled so well. However, there was no jostling amongst us commoners, so, I looked at my suited and booted grandpa for guidance. His sincere eyes accompanied by his bowing hand gesture indicated that he was implying... Me! I was the Whorebag!! At that exact moment, I felt as though someone had placed a beautiful glistening crown upon my head. As I glided onto the bus, my head was held a little higher. If I could have done that Miss America wave accompanied by some ugly joyous sobs as I walked through the bus I would have. Therefore I guess you could say me and grandpa Herbie had a moment. A moment that happened almost a year ago now and I still reminisce about it. Sadly I wish I was over exaggerating, but I'm not. And thus, like the title of this blog and the photo quote implies, I get distracted by niceties. Simply because they're few and far between.
You know I miss the yesteryear generation. The one where kids said, oh geez, and warm apple pies that sat all pretty and inviting on the window sills of picketed white fenced houses throughout the land. Okay so I'm probably over romanticising it a bit, but I don't care. As much as I love the internet, I miss the old simpler ways more. Nowadays we have become desensitised drones who get distracted way too easily. Somewhere along the line, we stopped noticing others. We stopped standing still to be present in a moment because along that 'somewhere path' we all picked up some form of ADHD. For example, I don't even remember the last time I fully paid attention to a 40 minute TV episode. And I'll have you know I'm in love with the TV/Film world. But I have noticed that I pick up my phone, or cook some food, and pick up my phone again, watch some snapchat feeds, and then talk to someone, and then read an article that some blogger just posted, all in one show-span. But if you want to get the ultimate robotic paused glitch from someone then do something nice for a stranger. The effect would be as if a repetitive 'non-compute' electronic sign scrolled across their forehead. Hence when Grampy Herbie made that gesture it felt as if the old world matrix was cheekily interfering with the new world one. A glitch in the system that buffers and then resolves without the player dwelling on it for more than 5 seconds or so. Man, I could totally watch the Matrix trilogy right about now.
Unfortunately, this lack of contact refers to every aspect of our lives. When someone pays you a compliment your first thought is " maybe he's escaped from a mental institution". That is just one example by the way. What about when someone picks up something you've dropped. Or helps carry your bags up the stairs. Or someone goes out of their way to return your lost wallet and so on. Big cities are cold. And living in London, despite the size of the population, can be a lonely place. Therefore when someone actually is trying to be sincere, all systems crash within our cranial cavity resulting in confused distraction. In all honesty, I probably think about nice things that have happened to me from like 20 years ago. It's like I hold on to them in a metaphorical golden box stroking it lovingly from time to time. A bit like Dr. Evil in Austin Powers as he strokes his cat.
So what do we do nowadays with these magical rarities of necities? I suppose we should pay it forward. I think when someone goes out of their way, you should return the favour to someone else. Even though I will probably still fall head over heels for those mystical unicorns, I know that I will continue to be appreciative of those nice gestures. Because let's face it... At the end of the day, they really do make you smile. And what's wrong with that?!