On the Bench… On the Bus

sketching a scene

I’ve been wanting to practice writing like I used to drawing, by sketching a photo or scene. That’s why, I’ve decide to start attempting to sketch famous or favorite scenes from movies or TV shows. Hopefully you’ll bear with these short exercises and give me your feedback on how it might improve.

Maybe you can see if you can guess the scene before the end too 😅

I can remember the first time I put on this uniform. At that time, I thought of it as an outfit, not a uniform. I can remember the little red pin I used to button on my cardigan. Today, I couldn’t even be bothered to pin it on as I rushed out the door. As I rushed, because I’d pushed off the alarm twice.

I didn’t look forward to today like that first day. That first week. I can’t believe it hasn’t even been a first year.

I can’t believe I just missed the bus… again.

Maybe if I hadn’t been day dreaming. Maybe if the driver who knows I ride his route, had taken the time to look up. To care.

Who really cares. Maybe they’ll fire me. Maybe I’ll find out a bit more about Daisy Buchanan. Or I’ll read about Aniston instead, and sit in the middle of this bench just to be polite. Sitting all the way on the end wouldn’t be polite to him.

And polite was the wrong decision.

He’s being more chivalristic than polite. At least that’s what I imagine from that drawl. From the way he draws out the “O” in his “hellO.”

Suppose it’s the chivalry that’s making him offer me a greeting along with chocolate. At least that’s what the positive side of me is whispering. The other side is screaming “creep!” and “LEAVE ME ALONE!”

I’m trying to be a nicer person though.

If I let it out even a little now, there’s no way I’ll make it through a day with the nursing home patients. It’s like Ray used to say back in college, “once you break the seal,” of course that was about drinking, not telling people what they deserve. Still it’s probably the same.

Maybe this is a good chance to practice. Maybe I can tell him something nice. I could be more than just “polite,” because maybe it’s an “opportunity.”

…

Maybe I’m not ready yet.

It’s probably just karma. I’m sure I could have been nice, if the driver had been nicer. I’m sure if I hadn’t gotten written up by Jerry for my shoes, and had to leave early, take a hit on my hours, and buy a new pair of shoes I would have been nicer. I can be nice.

I’m sure those things were out of my control though, as was being unable to do more than give a small smile…

Okay, if I’m being honest it was probably more of a cringe. It’s not him, though. I just really don’t want any chocolate.

Cause now I feel like crap for thinking he’s a “creep,” when he’s obviously different. Still, I can’t make a difference. I have only two or three more minutes till the #4 bus comes, and then I can transfer back to the #2 as that same careless driver is heading back along his route.

Who designed these routes anyway? Must be the People magazine publishers? I wouldn’t read about Aniston otherwise.

“My feet hurt.”

The loathing I feel for someone that bothers other people on public transit, is only matched by the loathing I feel for myself for being unable to take the time to be nice. Not even the time. It wouldn’t take longer to say, “Thank you.” Then again, that might have encouraged a conversation instead of the one-sided story and whatever it is he’s doing now.

And this is me.

Maybe I should say bye. Maybe I shouldn’t interrupt him? I don’t know anymore. I don’t need to know anymore. I’m on autopilot.

Is that really being fair to autopilot though? I’m on a bus. Figuratively. Literally.

I got a “job,” so I could ride through the day and turn off. So I save my creative energy for at night. At night I’d let it out I said. I’d make the most of that degree. Now it turns out I’m using up my patience.

Turns out, turning off, and turning on autopilot takes it out of you. Slowly kills you. It eats away at you in how it makes you look forward to the days counting down. It chips away until you don’t even have the patience for a kind “slow” man who looks like he’s still squinting on the bench. I know I should know a better word than “slow,” given my field, but I’ve been off.

Maybe the next person will take the chocolate, wherever he’s headed with that suitcase. Maybe. As he said, “You never know what you’re going to get!”

As for me… another day to go.

Well that was rough, but here is the scene that I was trying to retell from a new angle.

I’ll looking forward to trying another one soon. I’m trying not to spend too much time on these to start, maybe 60 minutes total (10 minutes outlining, 30 minutes writing in Rough Draft, and then about 10 minutes or one quick read over editing)