Growing up, mornings became a surge of potential outbursts of magical energy. Everyday I had a chance to become someone I wasn't yesterday. I could be an actress now or a doctor tomorrow; a princess or probably and stone cold ninja assassin. Whatever my mind put to its infinite capacity, somehow lead me somewhere where there's always hope. I used to wake up feeling pumped with one thought in mind—I'm going to travel around the world with my jetpack and Mr. Toodles. Mr. Toodles was one of my most trusted ally when it comes to seizing the day before us. He usually wakes up before me (probably because he doesn't sleep) and I would lie drooling over the master plan. My room was nothing special, just a 100 acres of castles, dragons, aliens and mostly generic cartoon characters, roaming around, probably having tea parties and getting ready before their queen assigns the most death-defying tasks ahead. I used to imagine it'll be sunlit and gleaming with rainbows and pink unicorns but then I realized it’ll just be another girl’s room. I just added a few extra touches like a mini gun to that pink unicorn or flaming chariots charging down the rainbow. I for one have nothing against the female touch but when it comes to adventure, prince charming is always late and I can't have that. I always kept a list of things I have thought up but yet to actually execute. It usually involved a lot of layouts of the land and instructions for Mr. Toodles to assign to all the other inhabitants of The Magical Fiery Land of Jenny Forge. 

Well Jenny is just short for Jennifer Anne and Forge for Forginson. There always some sort of danger to the name, Jenny Forge completely forgetting your partner’s name is Mr. Toodles. I was 10, who would you blame when I grew up with half a family and a TV that only has one channel. Growing up in St. Louis was hard when all the kids there are from a decent or rather abundant family. They would go out in their 4 wheels or 2 and ride down the street like they own the world and there I was walking, with no wheels, just my incapable 2 sticks for legs. Trust me when I say that there's no hope for me to survive in the real world when I belong to The Magical Fiery Land of Jenny Forge at least Mr. Toodles is around and my best friend Margaret Willows. Marg is some sort of a genius but I haven't gotten to see if that were true or people are just fond of making shit up. She was smart, yes, but not that smart as to hack the pentagon and acquire the nuclear launch codes. But I find her mysterious appeal too frightening, confusing but nonetheless interests me. Margaret would drop by my place and carry with her this weird wooden lunchbox. I would always taunt her about always bringing it. It's creepy and it should burned for no apparent reason. 

"Hey Marg, I see you brought your wooden casket full of dead rats." I pointed out.

"Hey Jen, I see Mr. Toodles is dying of asphyxia inside your backpack.

We greeted each other that way all the way to senior high but changing the context of what we could taunt until we went our separate ways when we went to college. I never seen her wear anything within the hues of the rainbow. She always wears black, gray, dark green, dark blue and to some point dark black which is rather depressing and talk about being a heat magnet. They'd used to call her Funeral Willows up until she ditched her goth look (without the weird eyeliner) by junior high and sporting a more appealing perfectly formed B-cups tightly nestled in a tight crop top coupled with ass-hugging pastel colored jeggings. But I'd always remember her as the casket carrying Marg from 3rd grade. Kathy Morgan and the other pink wearing sass-balls from 5th grade always made it to a point that our existence was treated like a boil they needed to pop. She was with the cheerleading team (cliché I know) back in senior high up until she dropped out (Hooray! I mean awe too bad).

There's always that part of me that never grew out of those 100 acres of pure imaginative bliss considering that the world didn't work that way. In reality it was just 16 sqm and too small for a growing child and I wasn't surrounded by magic and Mr. Toodles was just green long-necked dinosaur missing one plastic eye. Assholes in the real world taught me that and now I'm working for one of them. Hello my name is Jennifer Anne Forginson and I'm working for one of the largest Architectural firms in L.A., Hellinberg & Folliwitz which I casually call Hellonearth & Fullofshitz, respectively. Mr. Hellinberg doesn't take too kindly of my spontaneous behavior and lack of perception of time, like as of now which I am 5 minutes late of an early morning meeting that I don't give two shits about but goes anyways in the attempt to kiss ass of Mr. Hellonearth, I mean Mr. Hellinberg. I took the 9:00 am train going to W 6th St., hoping to be there at least by 9:15, not completely embarrassed at the fact that I am wearing green pumps because I woke up late and it was the first one I saw. The train was packed and I had to take off my green pumps and pushed my way through a crowd of mature working professionals such as myself. I managed to squeeze through a closing train door heading to certainly a good reprimanding and an embarrassing Monday morning.

I walked through a hoard of suits at the door and got out to breathable fresh space. I looked around to see if a seat was available. Every female occupant was seated comfortably on the blue plastic seats and I can't help to notice a thumb sticking out of the scene. A middle aged man comfortably seated when in reality that seat should have been perfect for me. I see no other female standing and most of the occupants are men, so that should be enough reason for that seat to be my salvation. I put back on my green pumps and slowly walked towards him and grabbed hold of the cold metal bar in front of him. Oddly enough he was well dressed, a brown jacket with loosely fitted jeans of acid wash shade. He wore a Vans Old Skool sneakers over all that's going on with his wardrobe. I was thinking to myself, "He could be going to a meeting, or he’s probably a tech genius or just a bum taking up space that was clearly reserved for me." He was reading a book on Traditional Meditation which was more of an appropriate reading material. Now that I mention it, I could use some Traditional Meditation right about now because this guy is starting to get on my nerves. I know the train ride doesn't really take that much time but seriously how could this guy just sit there and not be of any consideration to a poor girl like me standing in this godaweful pumps. Of course I didn't tap him to tell him if I could take the seat, not only is that rude but utterly not female like. He continued to be absorbed by what I could tell is an interesting read. He had the book in front of him, he looked decent enough to be nice but I wasn't about to falter in my attempt to acquire the seat. 3 minutes in and still he hasn't moved an inch—he barely even flipped the page. Wait don't tell me he's sleeping, that would be extremely weird of him to hold that book for so long and not fall flat on his face. Every inch of my body reeks of the intention to try to slightly pull down the book to see if he really is sleeping. So I moved a little to his way and by my slender fingers I pushed down the top edge of his book and to my surprise there he is in delinquent stupor, was really out of it! He was indeed a piece of work, who the hell sleeps like that and manages to piss off a poor helpless girl in need of a good sit down. I did not realize that my slight nudge of the book would send it straight down the steel floor. By the strong impact of what looked like a worn out secondhand book on Traditional Meditation, it woke up Mr. Gentle and Caring.

"Hello stranger, your book fell, I think you should stand up and pick it up." I strongly announced.

Indeed in his first few minutes of disoriented awakening, he gave me a smirk and stood up and tried to pick up the book, I on the other hand had the seat open and proceeded with claiming it as my own.

"Uhm hey beautiful, I was sitting there. Maybe you could move aside and give it back." He courteously explained.

I didn't in the least replied for his sentiments, for I was rather enjoying the relaxing comfort of the blue plastic cradling my tired ass. I didn't notice it at first but he looked taller than when he was sitting down snoring over an interesting book about Traditional Meditation, maybe it was that good of a meditation that sent him straight to Nirvana. 

"Thank you for offering me the seat, it was very thoughtful of you." I kindly said at the expense of him standing up.

He looked distraught and slightly irritated but somehow by the looks of it, composed himself to a rather comedic mood.

"Look, I know you pushed my book on the floor, I wasn't entirely sleeping. As a matter of fact I was half asleep and half meditating, so if you could move your pretty ass off my seat, that would be awesome."

I was indeed appalled by his statement. 

"Me? Moi? Certainly not. I was standing there minding my own business and somehow a seat opened up, so I took it." I explained with zero remorse for my actions.

He straightened up his jacket and started awkwardly smiling and by his immediate response, he held my hand and pulled me over to his direction. As our slow intertwining moment defined that my body, according to Newton's law of Motion state that 'an action has an equal or opposite reaction', physically my body must abide to that and indeed it did. I was pulled by some outer force including the coincidental incapability of the train the run through the tracks without any form of turbulence, sent my pretty face straight to his wrinkled brown jacket. Okay there goes the part when we all expect this to be one of those moments when you find true love and live happily ever after but⏤this wasn’t one of those moments. 

He immediately noticed I was out of my seat and dashed to the seat as I was a few inches away from it it. I too in my speed⏤wearing my green pumps which made walking almost impossible⏤dashed to beat him to it. By some awkward sign from heaven, he actually beat me to it and I was forced to sit on his lap while he laughed at he thought of this as his "Lucky Day".

"Well, well, this is my..." I cut him off as soon as he attempted to say what I thought he was going to say.

"Shut it creep." I said as I immediately stood up, trying not to draw anymore attention.

There were two things I managed to achieve through my attempt at relaxation: 

1. I've managed to embarrass my self by unintentionally sitting on a strangers lap.

2. I just scattered all the contents of my not–so–fabulous black Michael Kors handbag, which was a gift from an aunt of mine, thank you very much.

Mr. Caring and Gentle and I both got down on the floor and started to pick up every bit of item there ever was in my handbag. 

"You're very persistent, I'm Patrick by the way⏤and you are?” 

"Leaving⏤this is my stop. Thanks for managing to help me embarrass myself within this very interesting 15 minutes of my life." I yelled under voice as I walk to out through the train doors.

As I walked out, I immediately checked my bag if everything was in it. Phone, check. Make-up, check. Wallet, wait where's my wallet? I just realized that I left my wallet on the train. I tried to catch the train but failed only to be left on the platform exasperated by the look of Mr. Caring and Gentle waving back at me.

The nerve of him. Peter or whatever his name was.