Skip to main content

Why would you do that.

There's something about going to the bathroom at work. It seems like every time I go in there something silly happens. I went in today to take care of some business. I had just sat down when someone else came in. They immediately shut off the lights. I was in no position to do much of anything, so I gave up. I could hear the other person shuffle into a stall and do what they needed. I was unable to perform. "Could you turn the light back on?" I asked. The other person ignored me. They turned the light back on when they left. I'll come back later, I thought.

And I did, an hour later. I opened the door to the bathroom. There was someone in my stall. Damn, I thought. More importantly, though, they were screaming. In agony, I guess. But it was the most God awful, blood curdling screaming I've heard in a long time. I decided it was time to leave for the day.

I got my car back from the shop afterward. As I drove home into the fading light, I thought about things. The day before I had found that my bike tire had somehow been deflated, probably via some nefarious mean. It was kind of sad, actually. I was looking forward to riding it around. There's something meditative about riding a bike. Your movements start to flow with its own and it becomes an extension of your body. It's like dancing. I think I've said that before. But I didn't get to ride it, after all.

Flattened tires aren't so bad, though. It gives you an excuse to work on your bike. That is always a good thing. It gives you something to look forward to. Although you should never need an excuse to work on your bike. It'll be nice to wake up early and work on my bike.

I also thought about how much I hate my job.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

No, Holmes, no!

All I ever think about these days is how much I have to/want to study. I hope that's not how I have a good time, now. Would I rather go hang out with peeps or would I rather sit in and study? It is a difficult question to answer. Just a couple more days and then I can focus all my energy on the next greatest idea I've ever had: iconic detectives and sharks.

I wonder, sometimes.

I am standing on the edge of a cliff face. A breeze whips past me as I stare out into the darkness. It's a familiar sight, comforting. The river bends below me. It stretches out, away from me at both ends. The arch of the bridge traverses the river, silhouetted by the house lights and golf course below us. So far away from us. The highway reaches out before us, straight into the hills and disappears on the horizon. It is silent. There are no cars. No planes. No animals. It is just us standing on top of the cliff. As it should be. It's late. A late weeknight. Just a normal Tuesday night to the world. I step away from the edge. In 5 minutes, I will be 22 years old. It's a turning point in my life. A fixed checkpoint. I'm only 21 years old, I'm not an actual adult yet. Maybe legally. But I'm still a child. I'm immature, I laugh at fart jokes. I laugh at everything. Why would I take anything seriously? 21 years old and we still have no responsibilities. We c...

Side effects include constant irritability, being an ass.

It was a typical day in MUS 307 . A typical day where nobody pays attention to anything the professor talks about. A day where people play shitty flash games instead of take notes. A day where people sit and refresh their Facebook newsfeed instead of follow the slides. A day where people roll their eyes and go to sleep instead of listen to the music examples. A day where people get up and leave ten minutes before lecture ends instead of having the God damn decency to stay the whole time and pretend to be interested. I mean, if you're going to be so unaffected by the music we're studying in class then why the fuck did you take the class in the first place? Fuck it makes me mad. And I haven't even started talking about that fucker who sits in the back and tries to whistle along with every song that gets played in class. Alright, dude, we get it: you are just too cool and you know everything about jazz, ever. You know every standard ever written and everybody's so...