I Saw a Stranger's Breasts Today

Now that I have your attention... I have an interesting story to tell.

I saw a stranger's breasts today. No, not just out of the blue or for the entire public to see. It was rather intimate, and in a way heart warming. Before anyone becomes confused or alarmed, allow me to elaborate.

It was around 12:30 PM. The sun was bright and the streets were busy with lunch dates, last minute Christmas travel, and the usual beggars. I, myself, was on my way to a lunch date in Hollywood. My mind lately has been very clouded; sort of a mix of anxiety and nostalgia colliding with hope and ambition. The entire walk to the red line station, however, gave me a brief moment of clarity, where nothing else mattered. It was about 58 degrees outside and the sun felt like a warm hug. This is why people live in California.

I ascended the stairs to the metro and heard the ever-so disappointing sound of a car leaving. A 10-minute wait was in store, but I was in no really hurry, so I got onto the empty train that had arrived as the other on left (the north Hollywood stop is the final stop, so either track will get you out of the valley).

As I sat and contemplated the various graffiti arts, I heard a boisterous, melodic voice enter the train. Lead by a rather edgy, mixed woman, a young, black woman in hot pink pants trailed onto the rail and indicated my way. "Let's sit here. He seems real nice!" she exclaimed. I laughed and shrugged. Usually I avoid speaking to strangers all together. "Oh shoot! That's my cousin!" She got up and shook fists with a man who had just entered and leaned against one of the poles. They shared a brief conversation before she sat back down. "Well he's not really my cousin," she said, "We ain't related, but like... we basically cousins."

"I get it." I responded, "I have people who for most of my childhood I thought were my cousins, but really they were my parents' friends' kids."  I kind of chuckled. "Basically cousins."

"So you black!" She grinned. I kind of laughed and shrugged again. "Whats your name?" We made introductions, and I met her friend and her 'cousin'. They went off into another conversation about where they were going. We were all, after all, meeting through the common purpose of a destination. The 'cousin' was on his way to fill out his final paper work to begin a new job with Delta airlines in Florida. Apparently this was a huge deal, since my hot panted friend grew with glee. "No shit! Is yo' baby momma comin' too?" She was not. The conversation got a little grim, as it was clear he had to part from the mother of his child in order to pursue a career, or, if anything, pursue money to support this family. "Well I'm on my way to a photo shoot!" She was rather smug.

"And I'm here to make sure she don't get raped!" Said her counterpart. My face must have shown concern, because there was an immediate response directed towards me.

"Okay, it's not like porn. I won't get raped."

My face was still perplexed. I was really missing something. She went on, "It's tasteful nudes. Here. I did them before. Look. See." She pulled out her phone and gave me an amuse-bouche of selected nude photography for which she was the subject. She was wonderfully curvaceous with smooth, almost melted on, skin. She was indeed in the nude, but, in a very artistic way. Almost in celebration of the human body. Adorned on her neck was a string of white pearls, which nicely contrasted her rich, mahogany skin. "It's artistic, right?!"

"Yeah. I would by no means call that porn," I said. "They're very good, really."

She smiled and put the phone away. "I told you. I'm doing more today!" She then went on to talk to her cousin about how she loves school, hates where she lives, loves weed, hates smoking after she brushes her teeth. I listened in and out of the conversation, really, because it was none of my business.

My stop was almost up, and I told them that I had to go meet someone for lunch. "It was nice meeting you," she said. "I knew you were a nice person. You have on a mustard hoodie."

I chuckled, "And you hot pink pants." We shook hands, and I exited. I turned around in just enough time to watch the doors close, and the shuttle take off into the cavern, towards their futures.

The Clockwork Orange

When I was young, I was never really interested in reading literature that was assigned to me. In fact, I out right refused to read it. Classics such as The Lord of the Flies, The Outsiders, and Frankenstein were all thrown to the wayside by me. I think that it was something internal that I had. Deep down inside, I did not like being told what to do. That, and I believe, I had a slight attention problem (shout out to video games for that one!).

Or, maybe, I just needed to grow up.

Recently I have taken interest in reading more. Perhaps it is because I have been writing more, but the main reason is that I gained a wealth of down-time at my job as a run crew member. I started off with reading the John Green book, The Fault in our Stars. It's a teen fiction, very emotional (I cried), but generally an easy read. It doesn't challenge me to think, but it made me feel things. As a self proclaimed devoid-of-emotion human, I was horrified by this reaction. Can words really make me feel sad?

I digress. The next book for which I read is the ever so popular Catching Fire, from the best selling Hunger Games series. This book by no means moved me, but it did excite me. It was clearly written as a thrilling action novel that would place a very accessible message about human nature and free-will to its reader. Yet again, I was not challenged. However, this book excited me. Although there were obvious flaws in the structure, Catch Fire was definitely a book that you could not put down, and I'm not used to that. Can words really make me feel excited?

Most recently I finished the book A Clockwork Orange. Apparently I was in a dystopian mood after coming off of Catching Fire, but there is a huge difference between these two books; thought. Initially when I was reading the 60's classic, I was turned off. How dare this author force me to learn an entirely new slang? As I began to get beyond the strange new language, I grew to be riveted by the story that was unfolding. By the end I was really thinking about human nature and free-will. I was even fortunate enough to read the British version of the book (the American version left out the final chapter), which gave me the opportunity to internally contemplate the message of the book that initially struck each nation. Can words really make me think?

Yes. Words can do all of those things.

(IF YOU HAVE NEVER READ THIS BOOK... STOP RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I TALK ABOUT IT.... BUT SERIOUSLY READ THE BOOK.)

Since I finished A Clockwork Orange, yesterday, my mind has been atwitter thinking about how the book ended, that being the british version. It really raises the gesture of the absurd standards that society has set for us as individuals. Regardless of who we were as kids. Regardless of what mistakes or victories we committed as young people. Regardless of our social economic class. We're all expected to at some point grow up, get married, and reproduce.

The character Alex has this lightbulb turn on in his head regarding this standard. In the early 60s it was very much so expected for someone to commit to this exact path. Even the most rowdy children were forced to grow up to be a spouse and parent.

However, I think, that the main gathered thought that I obtained from this book is that I never want to be that.

As a kid I was resistant towards being told to read these books. Now, I am older, and am choosing to read them. I am retaining my free will, unlike Alex in the book. I plan to retain my free will to not commit towards the unreasonable standard of settling down, getting a boring job, and never really experiencing life the way that I want to.

Although Alex, in the book, wanted to commit violence (trust.... I am not a criminal), I on the other hand want to travel. I want to enjoy my job. I want to see things, meet people, and go places that most others regret to have thrown to the wayside. Society is telling me to be normal, and I am refusing. (Although the one thing I do want is a companion to adventure and experience these things with me, but that person can never expect me to 'settle down'. To me 'falling in love' doesn't equate to 'becoming boring'. I guess that is as 'normal' as I'll get.)

Ultimately, there is nothing wrong with doing any of the things that I personally detest. I have many friends and family members who chose to lead that life, and they are happy in doing so. Ultimately your free will in life is all that you have. Take what is yours, and always move forward. When you settle for something less than you want or deserve, then you'll never know what you could have become if you resisted expectations.