Words of Wisdom
“Man those speakers, kick like sneakers!”
My First Lent
So I come from a very secular background. My parents were both raised in households where Religion was present, but not with an Old Testament clenched fist. When raising my sister and me, they left us to discover what we wanted to believe, with any questions and beliefs we had always open to discussion, if we saw fit to talk about such things. So most of the religious holidays we celebrated were celebrated on their cultural basis (i.e. commercial). Chocolate bunnies and Santa Claus took precedence over Jesus’ birthday and his (correct me if I’m understanding this incorrectly) zombified reanimation.
Needless to say, 40 days and 40 nights meant absolutely nothing to me. The idea of giving one thing up for said period of time seemed silly unless you planned on giving it up permanently. So I never really saw it fit to give up anything. It wasn’t until I was driving over to my parents house for our Easter dinner that I realized that I had in fact participated in Lent this year. What did I give up you may ask.
Giving a shit about my health.
Now this is not the typical way of going about giving up something for Jesus’ sacrifices, but it happened nonetheless. Where I once tried at least slightly above the average person to maintain a certain level of activity and limiting gorging my face to once or maybe twice a week, I failed miserably since the aptly named Fat Tuesday.
So I am here to recommit myself to rediscovering my fitness and nutrition. Will it be easy given my financial situation? Hell no, produce is expensive. But I’m going to try, come hell or filtered mineral water. I am no longer aloud to eat food from work, unless it is soup, rice, veggies or stolen fruit. More fruits and veggies to the extent my wallet can stand it. Eating out will be limited to vacations, special occasions, and dates with the potential for sex. Sorry platonic friends. I need to get back to my routine of running in the morning, no more going back to sleep like a tired ass baby, when I get up I get up. As far as alcohol, well I will try to cut back on the beer a little, but come on I’m still 20-something, can’t retire having fun yet.
So there are my current goals for the next 40 days and beyond. Come June will I look like D’Angelo in the “How Does it Feel” video, doubtful. But will I look like D’Angelo after living with Angie Stone for several years? No, even if it is maybe a bit more likely.
Here is to never celebrating Lent again.
Bus Stop Etiquette
So I’m on my way to another Miami Ad Kickoff party and using the Metro Transit (my favorite form of Minneapolis travel). But there are some peculiar, maybe selfish tactics being used before I even enter the bus. First the gentleman waiting for the number 4 is sitting on 2/3rds of the bench. Granted he is a larger fellow, but lets make a effort huh? The bench isn’t going to catapult someone if you sit to one side. And if it does, maybe it will be a wake up call to your health. Plus your bag used up the last third of the bench, so I’m stuck standing next to the sign, waiting for the overly patient driver.
Then there is the matter of who gets to line up for the bus first once it gets there. Some people pile towards the front. Others take their time, but will give you a look if you got to the stop later but lined up first. I would happily let you go first, but there was no bench space, so I stood by the street. Your bad.
Then on the bus everyone gets their own seat. Unless its rush hour. Now I’ll make my spot available for a second seater, despite the fact that the newer, greener buses offer less leg room then is needed for my 6’2” stature. But little miss Dust Bowl is going to sit on the aisle seat and act like her coin purse needs it own spot. Not like this is an airline and your purse is obese or a crying baby. Get real Miss Daisy.
Lastly, I’m not going say I’ve never used my phone on the bus. It happens. But I try my hardest to make it an a-b conversation. You don’t need to have a gossip session with Tisha or talk business with the firm. Stay later for that mess, or text. Who talks on the phone anymore anyway? I bet Miss Daisy even has a iPad in her Herbergers satchel. Time to get with the times, no one likes human interaction* anymore.
*Blog written on Android smart phone. Bee boop bop boop.
My Favorite Seasons
- Fall
- Spring
- The Wire’s Fourth
- Sweat Lodge Summers
- Winter
WHY?
This is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve seen. He is a 10 year old, rapping about making money and driving in the fast lane. And how lazy is he that a hype man is needed for this video. Who ever wrote this for him probably struggled to leave out a bunch of sex references, but based on how much swag he seemed to be emitting, I’m sure he has had his share of Seattle School Teachers.
comments by Airreck
The Buslady’s [possible] Story...
Bernadette, mother, grandmother, sister. Widowed as of two years prior, she still lives in the same small two bedroom home that she raised her three kids in. Her kids have all moved out to the suburbs or further, relegating her to holiday visits and phone calls. Her only real connections are the ones she makes at the Walker library. Faulkner, Nabokov, Twain. These are the people she still holds dear. They give, but don’t take. They are there through out the day, whenever she needs them. The only time she feels lonely again is when she lets go of that last fleeting sentence. The end. Creased cover shut. Purse reloaded with warn experiences and water marks. Bernadette weathered and sullen as she rides the bus back to her empty existence.
Sorry that got depressing. Just how the picture felt to me this morning.