I’m a firm believer in that writing and creativity both fall under the “use it or lose it” umbrella. They are muscles that you need to work out regularly. This isn’t scientific fact. This is just a silly motto that I find to be true. I don’t write as often as I should and I made the decision that if something inspires me, I will utilize it as a writing exercise. Well, something silly inspired me today.
It was early in the morning. I work at the FDA (this is public knowledge) in the Washington, D.C area and I utilize the public transportation system. It’s an efficient system, especially when you use the metro rail, or train as normal people would call it. You essentially have eight (or so) box cars full of people dressed in suits or at least business-casual clothes. Many of the riders read newspapers as the Washington Post has representatives handing them out for free as you get on. Many people also have headphones and are listening to music or watching videos on their phones. I tend to listen to Rocketjump’s Facerocker podcast while reading the newspaper or Washingtonian Magazine. Luckily, I discovered Facerocker Podcast fairly late so I have years worth of material to listen to (or did).
Today was like any other. There were the suits and briefcases. No one was talking. This isn’t unusual. People act like they’re in a public restroom while using public transportation. Anytime you lock eyes with another passenger, both of you shamefully dart your eyes away from each other and delete that vision from your brain out of respect. I took a seat by one of the doors of the train car. I don’t usually get to sit so this was a nice surprise, but what happened next was more surprising. My seat was perpendicular to the door and there was a man leaning on the divider facing me. I was looking at my phone and my eyes locked onto tennis shoes with bright green shoelaces. I looked up a bit and noticed black track pants. This is fairly strange as people normally don’t take the metro to go work out at 8 a.m. in the morning during rush hour. I kept looking up to notice a regular jacket and then long, silky dirty-blond hair. The man’s face was gruff, but not in an ugly way. It was a masculine face that had maybe seen some things and it did not fit the beautiful hair at all. I looked at the person’s face, but he did not look back. He just stared right over my head into the distance. He had the face of someone who was in the zone and ready to “kill it.” I looked around to spot another person dressed to go to the gym but there were none. It was just him and honestly, the top half of the outfit didn’t really fit the gym-going persona. I laughed to myself because this person could very well be going to his job, ready to do something more important than any of us. His face screamed determination. He looked like he already had a full serving of nitric oxide and was ready to crush some bent-over barbell rows, but what if he was heading to the Pentagon? One of our nation’s major agencies’ headquarters? What if he was a high-up at the FDA and was, in fact, my boss’s boss’s boss?
This person didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He was in his moment and he was absolutely crushing it. His face also reminded me of someone. As it turned out, I was listening to an episode of the Facerocker podcast that reminded me who it was. Logan Olson, a recurring host/guest on the podcast, jumped into my mind. Take in mind that I have never seen Logan Olson except for maybe two pictures online. I only know of him from what has been said on the podcast, but this guy looked exactly like the pictures(except for having a more weathered face). Also, what I know of Logan, this guy was living it. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He was focused on what must have been the thoughts of a winner, ready to destroy the challenge waiting for him at the end of that metro ride. As the metro reached my stop, I stood up and everyone looked at me. This is normal as I get off at a stop that few others do and I am also a massive 6-foot-6-inches tall. He also looked at me for the first time and as I walked past him, I nodded. He smirked and nodded back.
“This world is yours,” he said with only a simple half-smile and a nod. “Go crush it.”
“You too, Logan Olson Look-alike,” is what I would have said back but I knew he didn’t me to tell him that.
Now obviously, that was kind of creepy, but inspiration is inspiration. Sometimes it takes seeing a guy who looks like another guy who says funny things in audio form and shares a fondness for dark Mexican beer to get your creative juices flowing. Give in. Maybe you shouldn’t post them on the internet like I did, but I’m a rebel. I do what i want without shame. Will Logan Olson have a restraining order on me by the end of the day? We shall see.
Write on and ride on.