crime pays, and other SEPTA misadventures

The sad thing is- I used to kinda like riding the el. It seemed nicer than the Broad Street Line I was more used to, and it wasn’t that long a ride, and I could look out the window and watch the urban blight go by. Not that I like urban blight- but it’s interesting. To look at the burned out shells filled with hopeless souls, and think what things used to look like before it all went so downhill.

Of course, used to is the key phrase, because this was before I went so downhill. Now the idea of riding the el gives me anxiety, hell, everything gives me anxiety. I bought a new everyday bag over the weekend, and mostly I bought it because it was cute and on sale. But partly I bought it because I can clutch it tighter to myself than the messenger bag I was using before that hung down to me knees. And maybe I react even worse to crazy people yelling to themselves, or people standing too close to me on subway platforms. And maybe I don’t even like going to Suburban Station because it reminds me of that day. And maybe I’m a little more reactionary than I used to be, in that respect.

And so I pay the extra money, and inconvenience my friends, to ride the regional rail. Even though it’s filled with snooty bastards that make me feel like I have no business being on the train. I swear the woman who sat next to me sighed loudly and angrily just because I answered my cell phone and was talking quietly. And, no, I was not on the damn quiet train, because I HATE the quiet train. And SEPTA is all snooty and oddly quiet, or filled with crying babies. On the 22 bus today, nothing by crying babies making me want to do bad bad things that make me question if I’m fit to ever have children (at some point in the very distant future).

And it sucks being anxious this way. And, I probably seem like a whiny drama queen, constantly, bitching about this in my blog all the time. But, fuck it. Maybe I am whining. Maybe I don’t think it’s fair that some piece of shit criminal has more of a right to my stuff than I do, even though I worked really hard for it. And maybe I’m sick of the shitheads ruining my beloved city. And maybe I’m sick of crazy people screaming to themselves as they walk down Arch Street. And maybe I’m sick of SEPTA’s price gouging. And maybe I’m sick of AT&T being fucking assholes. So, maybe I bore the crap out of everyone, whining about something that’s no big deal, when lots of people have simply wretched things that happen to them.

I know a mugged iPhone isn’t quite up there with world hunger, or wars, or woman getting raped in Fairmount Park. I know it’s an awful world, and I have to just deal with it. But, it sucks, because even if I can get another iPhone, I’m going to be terrified to use it in public. In MY city. That I’ve lived in all my life, that I pay my taxes to, that I defend against snotty New Yorkers. My city, and I can’t even use a damn phone in broad daylight, because there is no karma, is there? And because, in the words of The Offspring- “Cause the truth about the world is that crime does pay.”


About boredgirl260

27 year old trying to figure things out as she goes.
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