Music: Billy Talent, "Line and Sinker"
What you see is what you get
Fishing for the answer with a line and sinker
Look at me and don't forget
Hard to get a grip with all these broken fingers
This song is a screamer and a rocker (like almost every song on Billy Talent's self-titled first album). It's great on the treadmill when I turn up the speed above 9 mph. I just imagine that this angry asshole is screaming these lyrics at me. So I run.
A buddy of mine told me that he thought I was going through an early midlife crisis. When most people get my age, the reach for their radio tuners and listen to Cities 97. They find the mellow, unoffensive tones of adult contemporary soothing. I find them obnoxious and pretentious. It reminds me of the South Park episode where everyone bought hybrid vehicles and started enjoying the smell of their own farts. That's a Cities 97 listener--a pretentious fart lover.
So maybe it is a midlife crisis. Or maybe it's because my major contact with the outside world (outside of marriage and law school) is my 19 year old brother (who I have decided to start addressing with "Heyyy Little Brother" like JD's brother on Scrubs). Or maybe its because this music is less pretentious and isn't afraid to wear its heart on its sleeve. It's probably a combination of the three.
Riding the Bus
I've been going to school here for over two years. I started riding the bus after my first year. It was a result of two factors. First, I was sick of riding my bike in the winter. Second, my bike got its back wheel stolen and was hit by a plow. I wasn't on it at the time, but it was pretty hard to ride after that.
So I started riding public transportation. At first, I had a romantic attitude about it. I was on my own in the city, riding the bus. I liked being among other people who were just trying to make it. I liked going through the city on the bus; you can look around through the big windows.
Now I hate riding the bus, and I'll do just about anything to avoid it. To make matters worse, I moved about a mile further away from school (which equates to about 8 minutes on a bus--which feels like 37 hours). Now I realize that I am merely trapped on a stinky, crowded bus for way too long. I hate the people on the bus. They sit by me, and occassionally they smell. I can't see a damn thing because I never get a window seat. The bus manages to hit every red light on the route. It's late, I'm hungry, and the bus driver bitches at me if I don't ask for a transfer quickly enough. I'm reminded that I'm not wealthy or established enough to be able to drive my own damn vehicle to a real job. I'm just part of the huddled masses--something I used to relish.
New Series: How to Avoid Looking Gay
Over the past few weeks, I've seen two dudes using the "abductor-adductor" machine in the weight room. That is two more dudes than I had ever previously seen. There's good reason why I've never seen a dude using this machine: it's not for dudes. It's for chicks who think that if they do about 50 reps, they will slim their fat, cottage cheesy thighs.
My point? If you are dude, don't use the "abductor-adductor" machine. It's not for you. Do an effing squat if you want to work your legs.