One thing a blog is for is to vent, which is just a euphemism for whining. And that is exactly what I plan to do on this post, you`ve been warned.
While riding my bike to the station this morning I hit some ice. The next thing I know my hip and elbow hit pavement with the force of my mass times my acceleration, or some equation that equals the square root of a very bad morning. It was about 7:42, I had rolled out of bed at about 7:20 and was trying to catch a 7:47 train. And I'm from south Texas so I guess I wasn't in the right state of mind to look for ice on the road. So there I was, Monday morning, I had only been up for about 20 minutes and I was lying on a sheet of ice on a road in Ishinomaki, Japan looking at my toppled bike five yards in front of me with the wheel still spinning. I got up quick because a car was coming and started walking my bike to the station with a limp and no time to lose. That's when the self-pity starting coming on in waves.
...It wouldn`t have been so bad if I didn`t gash my arm and bruise my hip, which wouldn`t have been so bad if I didn`t have to walk over a mile to work from the station, which wouldn`t have been so bad if I didn`t miss breakfast because of the fall, which wouldn`t have been so bad if, during the walk, I didn`t have to brood over the fact that I ripped my brand new REI poly pro tops, which wouldn`t have been so bad if I didn`t rip my brand new button-up shirt, which wouldn`t have been so bad if I didn`t rip my brand new Aigle fleece-lined gloves, which wouldn`t have been so bad if I didn`t rip my brand new North Face jacket.
A man doesn't truly fall until he does so in his nicest clothes.
OK, thanks for listening, I feel better now. Thank God for blogs, but ice on pavement can go melt in hell.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Mr. and Mrs. Claus
Santa is real and living in Houston, Texas under the alias Mr. and Mrs. O`Hair.
I awoke Sunday morning to the sound of a Japanese postman (one of Santa`s little helpers) knocking on my door. He was resting a rather large box against the wall outside my door, panting heavily. I signed for it and went at it with a knife while the door was still closing. Under bundled newspaper were all my individually wrapped Christmas presents. Green bows with red and white wrapping paper; they were the brightest, most colorful things in the room and seemed to glow in the curtained light of morning. I was immediately presented with a dilemma. Should I wait until Christmas or submit to my growing anticipation? I had built up momentum by feverishly ripping into the box because, as everyone knows, opening presents is like falling down stairs, you just keep going until there are none left.
How often are you rewarded after destroying something? Such is the highly satisfactory act of demolishing a package and finding a gift in the aftermath. And so I longed to claw into them one by one until all the pretty paper was in one crumpled pile and all the gifts in another.
But I resisted. I carefully stacked all the gifts in the corner under a beautifully adorned but invisible tree. After setting them in the most aesthetic arrangement, big ones on bottom and the smaller ones leaning or stacked on top without disturbing any bows, I backed up and sat on my bed without taking my eyes off the pile of shimmering temptation in the corner of my apartment. I made breakfast, I cleaned a little and I tried to read but all the while the gifts shinned and beckoned me like the ring did Frodo.
But the day is long and my will weak. Human nature set in and I justified that the wrapping paper concealed some very warm clothes that I would surely require before December 25th. Needless to say, Christmas came early this year. Thank you mom and dad, I love y`all! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!!!
I awoke Sunday morning to the sound of a Japanese postman (one of Santa`s little helpers) knocking on my door. He was resting a rather large box against the wall outside my door, panting heavily. I signed for it and went at it with a knife while the door was still closing. Under bundled newspaper were all my individually wrapped Christmas presents. Green bows with red and white wrapping paper; they were the brightest, most colorful things in the room and seemed to glow in the curtained light of morning. I was immediately presented with a dilemma. Should I wait until Christmas or submit to my growing anticipation? I had built up momentum by feverishly ripping into the box because, as everyone knows, opening presents is like falling down stairs, you just keep going until there are none left.
How often are you rewarded after destroying something? Such is the highly satisfactory act of demolishing a package and finding a gift in the aftermath. And so I longed to claw into them one by one until all the pretty paper was in one crumpled pile and all the gifts in another.
But I resisted. I carefully stacked all the gifts in the corner under a beautifully adorned but invisible tree. After setting them in the most aesthetic arrangement, big ones on bottom and the smaller ones leaning or stacked on top without disturbing any bows, I backed up and sat on my bed without taking my eyes off the pile of shimmering temptation in the corner of my apartment. I made breakfast, I cleaned a little and I tried to read but all the while the gifts shinned and beckoned me like the ring did Frodo.
But the day is long and my will weak. Human nature set in and I justified that the wrapping paper concealed some very warm clothes that I would surely require before December 25th. Needless to say, Christmas came early this year. Thank you mom and dad, I love y`all! MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!!!
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