The building I walk to in the mornings for classes has a large air intake vent that is part of the outside wall. There are always things stuck up against the grating. Leaves, papers, plastic bags. These things just get sucked up into it, I guess. This morning there was a bird. He had gotten sucked up against the grating. He could fly away from it--maybe a foot--but he would always get sucked back to the wall. I paused and watched him for a second. No matter how hard he tried, he always got sucked in again.
And I started thinking.
We get ourselves into trouble a lot. Trouble that could be easily avoided. Of all possible places for him to fly, that bird flew right by the intake vent. And then he couldn't get away. That's exactly what happens to us. There's something we know we shouldn't get involved with, something we should do, yet we do anyway. And things often go bad, and we get screwed. And, often, we're too proud to ask for help. Which makes things worse. Maybe our feathers get jagged and ripped up.
Finally, I called the attention of a maintenance worker. He put up a ladder and pushed the bird away from the vent, and away it flew. Sometimes all we need is a little help to get back on the right track. A little shove from a guy on a ladder and then we can go back to flying and pooping on stuff.
I ended up being late to class.
But we saw Ben Folds, which was exciting. I actually think I enjoyed seeing him play alone more than seeing him with his band. There was more charm to the concert. And his piano is just so beastly. Ridiculously full sounds were coming out of it. But, despite him playing all my favorite songs, that wasn't really what I remembered the most. Halfway through one of his songs I looked off into the distance. I could see the corner of a building from where I was. It must've been two or three blocks away. But a light came on in the corner room, and someone walked in. They did some stuff in the room but ultimately came to the window. And they stood and looked out at us, hand to the glass. Alone. "If there's a God," Ben sang. "He's laughing at us. And our football team." When the song ended, the person left the room and turned the light out.
It made me kind of sad, actually. But, I guess, that's how things go. We just keep moving on, moving on, moving on.
And I started thinking.
We get ourselves into trouble a lot. Trouble that could be easily avoided. Of all possible places for him to fly, that bird flew right by the intake vent. And then he couldn't get away. That's exactly what happens to us. There's something we know we shouldn't get involved with, something we should do, yet we do anyway. And things often go bad, and we get screwed. And, often, we're too proud to ask for help. Which makes things worse. Maybe our feathers get jagged and ripped up.
Finally, I called the attention of a maintenance worker. He put up a ladder and pushed the bird away from the vent, and away it flew. Sometimes all we need is a little help to get back on the right track. A little shove from a guy on a ladder and then we can go back to flying and pooping on stuff.
I ended up being late to class.
But we saw Ben Folds, which was exciting. I actually think I enjoyed seeing him play alone more than seeing him with his band. There was more charm to the concert. And his piano is just so beastly. Ridiculously full sounds were coming out of it. But, despite him playing all my favorite songs, that wasn't really what I remembered the most. Halfway through one of his songs I looked off into the distance. I could see the corner of a building from where I was. It must've been two or three blocks away. But a light came on in the corner room, and someone walked in. They did some stuff in the room but ultimately came to the window. And they stood and looked out at us, hand to the glass. Alone. "If there's a God," Ben sang. "He's laughing at us. And our football team." When the song ended, the person left the room and turned the light out.
It made me kind of sad, actually. But, I guess, that's how things go. We just keep moving on, moving on, moving on.
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