What was empty is no longer

Space – it’s not the final frontier.  It is, however, all around us and we treat it preciously.  Mostly.

This morning Rachel said something to the effect of, “I’m going to look in my closet.”  Her closet?!?  That’s shared space, Lambchop.  You bet I called her on it and she wisely gave me my space back. Why did I react to her claiming all of it?  It’s not like my clothes were going to suddenly fly out of the closet into a heap on the bedroom floor.   (Of course, there is a heap by the dresser,  but that’s another story.)  I guess subconsciously I was afraid she was marking territory and I was about to  lose some.  Talk about irrational.  Or maybe I just wanted to  tease her.  I’m sure there was an element of that, but that was not 100% of what was going on.  Nevertheless it was partially my space and I wasn’t giving it up.  The closet was the first step in some sort of invasion, I couldn’t let that stand.  You are right, I’m nuts..

Rather than claiming your space, sometimes people just invade  it.  Not in a blitzkrieg, scorched earth sort of way, more like the insidious way that Jumping Asian Carp are taking over rivers  or that the few  horsetails  I’ve planted think they own my garden.  (In retrospect, I planted way too many horsetails.  Thank god they don’t create pod people.)   Walking down Broadway the other day a young couple caught my eye.  Seriously young, 13? 14? 15?  definitely below the driving age.  This cute young girl had moved well into her male friend’s circle of private space.  She didn’t look at him so much as she beamed.  It was almost hero-worship.  Lois Lane to  his oblivious Superman. Her body language screamed “kiss me!”  His was non-committal.  Nevertheless she was in his space and I noticed.  I’m not sure he did.  We can only guess what happened.  My thought ran toward social cues I must have missed at that age.  Why is it always about me?

Yesterday I hung out with a dog that really didn’t mark its space.  And here I thought they all did, instinctively.  The universe decided to make up for that and send me a person who did.  When I got on the BART train today, each row had a person in it.  Knowing myself to be of  large frame (or fat, as some might say), I chose to sit next to the little Philippino waif in the 2nd row.  She didn’t have her make up case out with 17 items ready to be applied in a time-tested order, wasn’t reading a wide-spread newspaper trying to see what was on sale at Michael’s or Fry’s and didn’t have her breakfast spread out in an effort to create an urban breakfast picnic.  All the signs pointed to the conclusion that we could coexist on a seat without bumping each other endlessly, leading to ride in comfort.  As I started to sit down, she shifted and defended her space; she turned slightly sideways and moved her knees up to and slightly passed the Mason-Dixon line of the seat.  This confederate was taking 1″ of my space before I could take any of  hers.  Seriously?  This gal was maybe 5’2″ and 100lbs soaking wet.  Of course, not wanting the south to secede and fire on Fort Sumter, I sat down right next to the arm rest.  Comfort denied in part, all in the name of transportation peace.  I am nothing if not a space pacifist.  Mostly.

So here Monday 5/7/2012, I’ve carved out a space.  But it’s not soley mine.  I encourage you to share it with me.  Mostly I’ll bang out  some words.  I’m not writer like some of my friends.  Its more stream of consciousness for me.  occasionally, I’ll wordsmith something and you’ll see, hopefully, something you’ll enjoy reading.  For the most part, though, I’m just going to pretend this a creative outlet.  Perhaps, maybe, it already is.

Advertisements