Tuesday, December 30, 2008

high on a hill where the city seems tame

It used to be that once a day I would think to myself, “what if…”

“What if” is such an eloquent and simple explanation for all of life’s infinite possibilities. Perhaps more accurately, it is a definition for all of the missed chances in the path to ones ultimate decisions. What if is an escape from finality, a route of contradiction, and a mental distraction. A picturesque unveiling of untapped potentials in the path littered with rejected hypothesis.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

I want to take you out in your holiday sweater

Late for work...again.

I hate Metro Area traffic. Seriously, with a distinct passion.

My commute should take between 15 and 25 minutes on any given day when I account for normal volumes of traffic. Work is exactly 13 miles from my house. Since I live literally right off a major artery, I can assume that I should be at or above, or at the very least approaching, highway speeds. At an average speed of 55 mph it should take me 14 minutes to get to work. Today it took me an hour and 20 minutes.

  • First I hit traffic on the parkway which connects my neighborhood/town to the interstate. Manageable considering the radio traffic guy is telling me it's a minor delay at the next exit and that it should be clear in the next few minutes.
  • 20 minutes later- Still sitting in the same traffic. I thought this guy said minor delay? He is back on the radio to inform me that the minor delay was only for the first of the 2 accidents within 2 miles of each other. Great...
  • 10 more minutes-Apparently the second of these two fantastic incidents is a major wreck. In fact the cars involved have completely spun off the roadway and they are shutting down the entrance to the interstate. My journey thus far has been completely pointless as I am now funneled onto the southbound entrance ramp and heading in the complete opposite direction of my destination.
  • 45 minutes from the start of my commute- So the Southbound ramp is a parking lot because of the excess traffic. I can't exit the interstate, which is headed in the wrong direction, and I can't continue on my way. I guess I'll just sit here.
  • 55 minutes into my fantastic voyage- I've managed to find an exit that has a functional and open exit ramp and entrance onto the Northbound side of the highway. I'm starting to look forward to all the normal traffic I have to deal with. So far I've just been a tourist on the Southbound, battling the traffic of a foreign land.
  • 1 hour and 10 minutes- I've finally reached the point where the parkway would have entered the interstate. So my net progress in the last 40 minutes I have made 0 net progress in terms of distance from my destination.
  • 1 hour and 22 minutes later- I finally entering the office only to be met by my boss informing me that this tardiness cant be tolerated because someone is complaining that he is showing favoritism and gender bias. I'm quite ready to get drunk at happy hour at this point and it's not even lunch.
Awesome. Seriously though...I hate traffic.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Music is my hot hot sex

Music, and more generally art, is so so vital to the survival of a exposed and weathered soul. At its most basic level, music helps to communicate from one heart to another the idea that you are not alone in an emotion and that someone else has felt this way before. For those of less articulate and outwardly expressive it is an illustration of emotions and thoughts we otherwise would have left buried and broken in a simple lack of outlet. In the brutal climate of today's emotional stage, youth and adult rely on music as an emotional crutch of sorts. With almost consistent exposure to violence, pain, and heartbreak along with the notions of ecstasy in the smallest of victories and depression in the smallest of defeats, music is the shield all of us can use to heal or avoid. Personally I cannot imagine an escape more liberating or sheltering than that which I find in music. My emotions and grief would have well overtaken me if I had no such aid as music provides for me.

The love of music never fades or falters. She is a mother, a father, a sibling, a friend, and a lover. Music is my hot hot sex.