I hate public transportation. Don't get me wrong, i don't mind the transportation, its the "public" part. The aluminum twinky slugging at speeds of a drunk horse houses some of the rudest genes of humanity. Oddly, the steering wheel to public buses has a largeness that is cousin to the gears in medievil draw bridges. In my particular neighborhood, the bus has become the exhaust pipe for all the combustable frustration of the week. Work, relationships, mis-matched socks, whatever it is.
So what do I do? 7,000 songs, 40 hours of video, 15,000+ applications. A weeks worth of distraction can be compressed into a device the size of a spleen. Amazing. Or is it.
Now that my life alternates between the experiences i love and want to enjoy. I digital block out the ones that gives me rashes, give me headaches, or make me envy the dead. And as any artist, fashionista, or cook knows, its all about contrast. If my current queue of week events consist of doing things i like, and then with remaining time trying to recapture evaporated happiness, I make sameness.
Vanilla. Ice cream is only good because of the hideous weed, the broccoli is so vile. The hero is only so brave and strong as the situations are rough. The trip to the east is only magical because of our hours in the west. So what do we do?
7000 songs, 40 hours of video, 15000+ applications, enough for you to always be happy, or to be remembering a happy's silouette. But love ye the bland, for by it, ye shall remember the beauty.
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