My First Official Post

It is moments like these that compelled me to create this blog. After going to the gas station, the library, and then braving the Boston traffic and dodging the KFC protesters to get myself a twister wrap, I find myself back at home with too much time on my hands. I can't help thinking of all the lazy Saturday afternoons I could have blogged about in the past.

I did try stopping by my friends Jan Marie and Stephanie's place in Brighton, partially because I wanted to practice Stephanie's piano and partially because I figured I wouldn't be able to find a parking spot by where I live, and I usually have to park it for the weekend. Unfortunately, they weren't home, though while knocking on their back door, I heard the sound of a doorbell repeating over and over. I wasn't sure what it was at the time, and I soon let my imagination run wild, thinking about the beginning of one of those horror movies that start out with high-pitched, usually fast-paced orchestra music illustrating the intensity of it all. In retrospect, I wonder if they start out that way because those movies usually take a while with plot development, so the producers want to give a reminder that we are in fact watching a horror movie and therefore should not be surprised when the protagonist (or damsel in distress that is in love with the protagonist or vice versa) unsuspectingly opens the refrigerator and a hairy, gnarled hand gives him/her the mustard.

But also like those movies, this noise was exactly what it sounded like: a broken doorbell. I guess I dismissed that idea because the back door that I always use doesn't have a doorbell, and I suppose I had forgotten about the front door. By the time I realized this, I was already on my way home and talking to Stephanie on the phone. Fortunately, I did find a parking spot on my street. Hence, I am here.

Anyway, today is really nice. The sun is out and the temperature is 50 degrees. Not the best day to be stuck inside reading, but at least I don't have to worry about traffic. Seriously, the roads are the only thing I don't like about Boston. I do, however, find the endless struggle between driver and pedestrian quite intriguing. As a driver, I sometimes get impatient with the pedestrians who jaywalk or simply take their sweet time crossing the crosswalk without consideration for 1) the driver trying to make a left turn before getting hit by oncoming traffic, or 2) the driver looking to make a right turn at an intersection before the light turns red because the city of Boston places No Turn on Red Light signs at random intersections. I call it random because I often find myself looking for those signs at intersections that would logically need them more than others, but alas they do not. This causes me considerable anxiety, as do those intersections that are kitty corner to each other so when someone makes a left turn they can't tell which stoplight they're supposed to be obeying. My Team Lead at work is no help, as she claims there are hidden cameras at every intersection in Boston. A sister in my ward last year offered some comfort when she said the police have more important things to worry about.

On the other hand, as a frequent pedestrian, I can see how frustrating it is when some drivers are so focused on where they're going that they honk at us in exasperation because somehow we should have known that the light would turn red as we were crossing the crosswalk, thus preventing them from making that right turn. They should rather be mad at the driver in front of them who let several pedestrians cross against the light. I feel no sympathy for those pedestrians, as I think they're simply taking advantage of the state law that drivers must stop for pedestrians. At the same time, I feel even less sympathy for the drivers who let the pedestrians pass, as they should know that said law does not apply to jaywalkers, and the jaywalkers usually know that and are therefore prepared to stop for drivers who assert themselves.

Well, that's my vent about Boston traffic; pretty good for being a whole year's worth. I hope this stuff isn't too emotionally heavy, but at least it's getting me into the habit of writing on this thing. I'm a little appalled at some of my grammar and sentence structure in this post, but I know very few people who will notice, and among them, there are even fewer whose opinions I value, most of whom could care less that I ended a sentence with a preposition. So I won't bother with the editing.