Kids these days

Soon, I will have the option to drive to work. My new route will be easier by car than by MBTA, and the parking is free. But I'm not sure I can stomach the rush hour traffic, and now that the snow has started (over 4 inches this week!) I'm wary of winter driving.

I know, I know, driving is MUCH more luxurious and clean (for an individual, not the environment obvi) and free parking is seriously awesome. But I get a lot of reading done on the T and love love love an aboveground trip.

Plus, if I was in my own little car bubble, listening to Bob Oakes, I'd also miss the awesome people watching.

Earlier this week, I wedged myself into a crowded D line train to ride home. There was NO ROOM to move. That same day on my trip into the city a little gray haired lady had rested her head on my back (leaning her forehead on my coat) while we were standing, so even though I could see the pores on the person's face in front of me at least I didn't have someone napping on my nice wool jacket. A 30-something guy wheeled his little toddler onto the car in a stroller at Longwood, and the people who had been throwing elbows, knees, and computer bags to eke out an extra square foot of personal space all sighed and sacrificed their hard earned breathing room to make room for The Kid in his carriage.

Props to the parent for providing his charge with an activity for the duration of the ride - instead of waxing cranky the kid was busy furiously scribbling away in a coloring book. Actually, it wasn't just a coloring book, but the super fancy schmancy 21st century version of a paint-with-water coloring book - you know, the type where you used to dip a brush in water to activate the paint pigments in a bunch of Disney princesses. They got muddy-looking and the paper was really thin, so of course they dried out in weird ways and Ariel would look more like Flotsam or Jetsam. This book was much cooler, themed "Mickey's Clubhouse" with crisp images that would be revealed as they were "painted" over, and a little brush complete with its own reservoir for water.

So this kid is going to town on his coloring book, pausing every once in a while to bat away a bag overhanging his stroller space. I noticed he was putting a lot of pressure on the "paint brush" and not getting much water out of it. The line between frustrated toddler and Epic Tantrum Situation is super fine, so I considered saying something to the father to help his kid out.

But I didn't have to worry.

The kid glared at his ineffective paint brush. Then he gave the half colored image a good hard look, stuck out his tongue, and did a face plant on the page. He used his own spit to color in Mickey's face.

I looked around the train - everyone was either in a smart phone coma or was lost in a "whatamigonnamakefordinner" stare, and no one else seemed to have witnessed Little Picasso in action.

See? I might actually miss the T after all.

Little Monsters

Oh Gaga.

The show last night was phenomenal. I was on cloud nine. I sometimes have a hard time getting excited about live shows, probably because crowds can make me anxious, but last night was the major exception. Whoever they are, the Haus of Gaga put on an incredible show and I'm so glad I had the chance to go (with an equally ecstatic date, of course).

The respect I have for Lady Gaga as a performer is probably the closest I'll ever get to fanaticism. She's a machine! She was a powerhouse on stage and the thought and attention to detail that went into the show was remarkable. Her outfits - especially the one with the armored gold bikini-esque piece paired with an Egyptian headdress (complete with Anubis ears) and the body suit made out of dissembled machine guns - aren't just revealing. They're cheeky deconstructions of the pop star as a sex symbol. Gaga was carried aloft by her hunky dancers as often as she "fought" them off in her choreography.

Gaga, apparently euphoric to hear about her 5 Grammy noms, declared her love for her fans - but she affectionately calls us her Little Monsters, and spent a lot of the show bating the audience. Her curtain call was part bow/part slouch, during which she bared her teeth at the crowd. And there was no encore, just an odd video close-up of her receiving a tattoo - the word "Dad" inside a heart - while some mournful sounding opera played. She kept the fans - many of whom dressed that night to pay her aesthetic homage - at arm's length.

The contant running of her defenses works for her, and enables the "risktaking" that makes her so fascinating as a pop artist. I'm so intrigued - and it doesn't hurt that her music is like a best-of-the-best amalgamation of pop from the past 20 years and she's got the chops to pull it off. I'm hooked.

Just Dance

Guess who has a new job that starts in two weeks?

And tickets to see Lady Gaga tomorrow?

THIS GIRL.

Yup! These things, career and Gaga, they rate very highly for me.

And alas, Thanksgiving vacation is over already. It was wonderful to be at home, stuffed with turkey and trying out Zumba at the Y with my mom (and an intrepid journalist as you'll see by the link). We saw The Fantastic Mr. Fox (I highly recommend it) and my mom gave me her ticket to see the Sabres beat the helmets off the Hurricanes Saturday night. With the frenzy that's to come with this new job (new position new coworkers new dress code new commute new everything it's so exciting!) and the holiday hustle and bustle... I need another break just thinking about it.

Alright, off to see if I can download some Zumba classes online...