Empire Builder, Part II.

I woke up somewhere just outside of Hastings, right at the Minnesota version of the Bermuda Triangle where there is no phone service. I stared out the window, trying to figure out how long I'd been asleep. The dark trees stood out against the winter sky, tinged with a reddish glow of 10pm. The snow seemed like an ocean, encompassing everything around it, and the rare street lamp seemed to be surrounded by a gauzy haze. It was like a movie, a fairytale. Peaceful, serene, and sweet.

I was jolted from this storybook by a sharp lurch forward. Groggy and one foot still in the reverie, I was sure we had gone over a bump or something normal. I leaned back against my seat again, breathing deeply, concentrating on the string of street lamps that illuminated the darkness far off against the highway.

I was physically thrown forward by another jolt, as if kicked from behind. I glanced around at my fellow passengers for recognition, a sign that they were all as confused as I was by the sudden change in atmosphere. To my surprise, nobody seemed to notice, or if they noticed, they didn't care. I furrowed my brow, upset by the sharp and physical reminder that I was taking public transportation.

The third jolt was as if I'd been punched in the back of the head. At this point I had deduced that it was not, in fact, nature that was causing my uncomfortability. I sat straight up and turned around, staring into the large brown eyes of a small child. He giggled, flashing a horrific set of baby teeth at me. I looked to his legal guardian sleeping soundly next to him. Mouth agape, Oblivious Mother was snoring in such a way that indicated that she was mentally thousands of miles away from her terror of a kid. I gave him my professionally practiced Stink Eye and sat back into my seat. That look was surely that of children's nightmares - Scary Twentysomething on Amtrak Frightens Child with Just One Stare. I was satisfied with my retaliation.

The fourth jolt was just uncalled for, and vindictive, if you ask me. I turned back around, stared into the mischevious eyes and said very plainly, "Stop it. Stop it right now."

A quick snort from Oblivious Mother and she was immediately completely functional. "I'm sorry," she snapped, the fire of a dozen dragons in her breath, "what makes you think you can talk to him that way?" She cradled her nightmare of a misbehaved child into her body, as if I had physically attacked her spawn. Mama Bear woke up and she was pissed.

I stuttered for a second. I wasn't sure how to talk to Momzilla. If I had rationally explained the situation, chances were good that I would be the only one to see reason. The cheese would surely stand alone, because it was me versus her stupid kid.

I did the only thing I could think of to do - I apologized profusely for my rudeness. How dare I speak to your child!! How dare I think that I could even glance upon his face?? Oh, my dearest, most sincere of apologies, ma'am. I see the error of my ways and will forever be changed by this experience.

I sat back in a huff and stared down the child's reflection in the window. He knew better than to do it a fifth time, but I'm really not sure why. Was he scared of the crazy lady's overacting and sugary sweet apologies? Maybe I did the kid a favor. Be scared of phonies, young boy. And don't touch people on trains.

Empire Builder

I am on the train right now.

I wouldn't necessarily call myself a frequent passenger of the Amtrak, but I've taken it about a dozen times, which is about eleven times more than the majority of people that I know.

I've been contemplating my train circumstances for slightly over two hours now. Is this a good mode of transportation? Is it a well-kept secret in the twentysomething company I keep? Or is it just a very large vehicle filled with smelly people who talk loudly on their cell phones?

I know. I'll make a pros/cons list.

-PRO: it's incredibly easy to travel long distances alone.
-CON: it's easy for anyone to do. This includes my two least favorite demographics - large families with small children and the elderly.
-PRO: the trips are usually quite scenic. Right now, for example, it's a beautiful scene of snow-covered trees and quaint homes. It's like one of those paintings. By that guy.
-CON: I'm freezing.
-PRO: there is absolutely no hassle of waiting in line for security.
-CON: there is no security. At all. None.
-PRO: the stops are frequent enough that you can ride to a fair amount of places, but not too many that it slows the trip or make it annoying.
-CON: Wisconsin Dells is a stop, attracting Unwanted Demographic #1. At least it's winter.
-PRO: fairly cost-efficient. My ticket cost $24.
-CON: it's about the same amount of money as filling someone's tank and having them drive you there. And it takes about the same amount of time.

In truth, the pros really do outweigh the cons. If you're looking for the romanticized slice of Americana that old literature and folk songs promise, this ain't it. In reality it's literally just another way to travel. It's much more comfortable than an airplane, but it's less businessmen and more average joes. I feel very middle class when on a train but it gets it done. And really, whatever lets me just get away.

This stream-of-consciousness post brought to you by three hours of sleep and shitty instant coffee.

(I think the guy behind me has a serious medical issue. His snoring is deeply concerning.)

Oh. Hello.

Now that I'm all back and stuff, I figure I should introduce myself.

My name is Anniemosity. I used to blog all the time; I was witty and funny and had devoted readers, and I loved it. (That was five years ago.) I have two cats and a great love. I work out diligently for sporadic periods of time, never being able to accomplish my goals. I listen to music at all times, and my taste in music is the best taste in music. I simultaneously care about myself way too much and far too little. I own the same shirt in six colors. I clean my apartment every day and somehow it never gets to be completely clean. I talk loudly because everything I have to say is important. My new year's resolution this year is to re-evaluate who I spend my time with and why I do it, because I seem to have gathered a bunch of people around me and I'm not quite sure why. I end a lot of sentences with "...but what do I know?" even if I know exactly what I'm talking about; I'm not really sure why this happens, but it's not self-deprecating. I want to know everything about everything and subsequently I only know some things about some stuff. I am not scared of things that I can't change, but I am scared of things that I can change and choose not to. I wish I had an accent (or at least that I was good at mimicking one). I frequently overbook myself because I want to do everything. I'm dating an artist and I'm scared he will realize that I know jack shit about art. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason; even the most fucking awful of things can happen to set in motion a chain of events that can result in the best thing in the whole world. I'm really good at changing the subject. I have the best laptop ever built and I use it only for watching movies and talking about myself.

That's a lot of personal, heavy information. Trust me when I say I'm pretty fucking funny too.

Anniemosity: Internet Addict and Rageaholic.

Now that I have received my first bill, I guess it's official - my internet sabbatical is over, and I have returned to the land of celebrity gossip, torrents, youtube, internet porn, and many other glorious things that have been otherwise fairly unavailable to me for nearly a month.

Of course, now that it's "up and running," I'm still having amazingly frustrating issues with it. Why don't my internet providers understand that I secretly feed off of the internet? Why don't they get that now that I have it, I can't let it go? And most importantly, why does it start working every time I call, making me sound like a cursing, angry, useless idiot?

My enemy is invisible, faceless, sometimes called John or Vera (the Internet People who were of absolutely no help to me). I feel as though I am cursing a greater power, something that's completely out of my control, like I'm pissed the fuck off at the sun.

So I blog in wait, offline, quickly saving my draft when the brief flashes of light on my modem indicate that I can access the internet for but a moment. I blog on hold, while I'm asked the same questions over and over again, proving that they think I'm a complete moron (subsequently causing me to feel like one). I gnash my teeth and tear out my hair, I pace back and forth, I yell at the cats.

John tells me tech support needs to come out and look at my phone line, for the low low price of $80. Vera basically tells me that I'm stupid, and, after a long silence, gives me her "uh well thank you for calling us" spiel and hangs up as quickly as humanly possible.

This experience has reinstated my deep, deep hatred for most IT people (apologies to my entire family). Just wait, internet, I'm coming for you. We'll have a sick, codependent relationship like we used to. You, the provider and me, the junkie. We will fulfill each other once again, I swear it.