Observant, this is one way to describe me. I noticed when the floors were shined in high school; I can (almost) always tell when someone has gotten a haircut. I notice the reluctant way in which my friend’s date scoots in closer to her, trying his best to be smooth about draping his arm around her shoulder. I notice how breathless the lady sounds as she finds out her medication are going to cost her $321.65 a month. I notice a cat in my backyard, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting bird. I notice the way I get goose bumps when I hear a song that really leaves an impression, playing in my head over and over. I notice the bug that is hitching a ride on a person’s shoulder. I notice the way the boys sitting on the bench at the waterfront park stare at a woman running by wearing only a sports bra and running shorts. I notice how annoyed my co-worker seems that I’m asking her a question. I notice that I no longer feel comfortable asking a certain person questions. I notice how my dad busies himself with yard work, completely opposite of my idea of fun. I noticed that Minka, my hamster, didn’t sleep at all the day I changed her cage, poor thing. I notice that sometimes I will have a smile on my face, but I’m not sure why. I notice how that woman in the park hides her face each time someone walks closely by, how her shoulders shake, how she has her arms wrapped around herself. I notice that in a club, as I’m dancing by myself I’ll somehow start dancing with someone and then the song is over and I’m by myself again. I notice the same people riding the max every morning. I notice the homeless man, picking up some trash left on the sidewalk. I notice when my mom rubs her temples it means not to mess with her. I notice the person dressed as Gumby, dancing in the corner, flipping a store sign like a pro. I notice that coffee and I are not a good match. I notice how my friend always has this peculiar smell of body order and flowery perfume. I notice the flattery the jewelry sales person is trying to lay on me as he cleans my ring, while also trying to get me to “get the best deal in the entire year. Better even than at Christmas!” I notice his dejection when I tell him I’ll pass on that deal. I notice that I look younger than I really am, not that I’m complaining. I notice that people have a certain idea of who I am and I’m not sure whether to be flattered or upset by assumptions. I notice how John Mayer has (or had) a habit of closing his eyes when he’d perform. I notice how my sister will start laughing approximately 5 minutes after finishing a meal at any restaurant. I notice she also does this when someone falls down and even when she falls down. I notice my brother has an interesting way of saying things that end with “th” like month or Elizabeth. I notice the two old folks holding hands. I notice the boy from high school that everyone rumored was gay, canoodling with an attractive young man on a bench downtown; he always denied the rumors were true. I wonder that while I’m noticing and observing if someone is noticing and observing me too?