Bittersweet Friends

I have problems with my face. I have noticed this most of my life, but never quite as much as I have since I started commuting on a daily basis. Since I was a little kid, I was asked constantly “What’s wrong?? Why are you always so grumpy?”. I’m generally not grumpy. As a matter of fact, I’m one of the cheerier people you might come across, but my face – my face decides that I should have a perpetual look of pissed-off-edness. So while riding public transit for 2.5 hours a day, in the most crushed, close confines one could imagine, apart from maybe falling down a well or trying to read a book in a mosh pit, I am forced to attempt to try to not look like I’m glaring directly at people, despite my face being about 8″ away from theirs. This is actually a harder feat to do than you might imagine. I always am amazed by those people who promptly fall asleep on the bus, their heads lolling to and fro with the abrupt jerks and stops of the bus. Don’t they get worried that someone is going to steal their bag? Or draw obscene words on their faces? Or that they might start simultaneously drooling and snoring and have the entire bus openly mock them? Clearly not, as I run into them day after day. Hey, I’m tired too, but I’m pretty sure I would need about 6 days of sleep deprivation before my body would relax enough for me to be comfortable sleeping in front of 58 random strangers.

Hard as I may try to make it otherwise, my face makes me look like I’m on the verge of lunging across the aisle, grabbing your baby and throwing it out the open bus doors. Or perhaps shank you when you were considering getting off at a stop to pick up some bananas. I KNOW this. But I can’t help it!  My normal “not-thinking-about-anything” face has a natural downturn that just makes me look pissed off. I am so painfully aware of this now, that I spend much of my time consciously trying to look convincingly like I’m not agro. This involves a lot of awkward half smiling and wide-eye opening. Which when written down like THAT makes me sound like I’m in dire need of some medication. But you know when you are thrust in front of a camera and ordered to smile – nine times out of ten, that smile looks forced and contrived (which is why I like to be on the OTHER SIDE of the camera). But I fear this is how I look all the time, unless I can scour my memory and try to recall things that have recently made me laugh (like me trying to act casual when falling up stairs, or seeing a pigeon eating a cinnamon donut) and in this case I’m able to actually smile my REAL smile – my dimpled, eye squinty, genuine, ridiculous smile. But on days when the rain won’t quit, and I’m feeling a bit lonely, this is hard to do. I have thought more than once that I wish I could wear a full face covering balaclava, or perhaps a brown bag on my head.  Neither of these options work well in aiding me to look more friendly and approachable, however…  more psychotic, yes – but at least my facial muscles wouldn’t ache from trying to appear cheery and helpful. Cheery and helpful – this is the look I’m going for. Unfortunately, pained and confused (and mildly constipated)  is likely more the look I’m pulling off. The whole thing is just so tiring – perhaps this is the same issue the sleeping people have had to deal with, and after 7 weeks of attempting to look like they enjoy being forced into the armpit of someone who hasn’t showered in five days, they are just so exhausted they can’t help it. Maybe this is their coping mechanism? I guess having my eyes closed and drooling slightly is  a better alternative than potentially getting my ass kicked because my mind has wandered off and I’ve been caught glaring at some gansta girl for the last 2 minutes, appearing to challenge her to a duel – Fight Club style – at the corner of Broadway and Granville. So if you should happen to see me out and about, and it looks like I’m about to haul off and shin kick the grandma in front of me, please know that inside I’m likely thinking about picking up yogurt at the store, or if I have enough quarters for laundry. I can’t help it. It’s just my face! (I need to get that put onto a shirt, I think).