One way to not hate everybody.

I don't want to give the impression that my life is full of nothing but anger. I don't hate the people, necessarially, but I do hate the fact that they feel compelled to talk to me.

Although if they didn't I'd have nothing to write about.

But since they do, and I don't see that ending any time soon. I have had to find ways to avoid going completely psycho on all you guys all the time.

This song from Mumford and Sons, a wonderful band with a painfully poor choice of a name, is one of those ways. Check it out if you like, it helps keep my crazy in where it can fester slowly.

Tree Watching

I work in downtown Philadelphia. Since it took me about eight months to FIND my job, I am not going to do anything to jeopardize said gainful employment, so I will only go so far as to say that it is affiliated with those people who wish to visit Philly and learn a little something about our nation's origins during various colonial periods. There, that's all you're getting. Just remember, my job is rooted in the past.

Which makes the phone call I got today all the more strange.

I answered the phone in my normal, painfully polite way, (I am at work, after all) and, for a moment, heard nothing but heavy breathing followed sloppily by the phrase: "um… what?"

Lets stop here for a moment. You have called me, presumably knowing what you wanted to ask, but upon being given your opportunity to pose said query you instead decide to ask me what it is I just said, despite the fact that what I just said amounted to: "hello, how can I help you." Things were off to a running start.

"Hello," I repeated. "How may I help you?"

"Um… yeah. I want to know about the tree watching."

Did I say RUNNING start? We're fucking flying, baby.

Triangle Bush man

If I were Clark Kent then the Philadelphia bus system would be my phone booth. That sounds cool, like every time I use public transportation I fight crime. Not the case. It would probably be more accurate to say that the front doors of the bus are the phone booth because from the moment I step onto that bus I shed my old self and become someone different. The new persona I take on while boarding the bus is one of two in my repertoire. I call them Captain Hard-Ass and Mr. Meek and their sole purpose is to help shield me from my intense hatred of public busses.

The funny thing is, as a bleeding heart liberal who thinks all of our nation's funding should go to education and the National Park service, I love the IDEA of public transportation, and some public transportation is fine… outside of Philadelphia, where "brotherly love" extends as far as the curb and everything within the lanes of traffic falls more in the category of "PURE, SEETHING HATRED". 

As a result I despise the fact that I have to jump into my car and drive to the store… but I also thank God I CAN jump in my car and drive to the store. Its hard enough convincing myself to take the bus when I know I'm going somewhere to earn a living, if I had to ride that sadness-mobile anywhere else I wouldn't be able to get up in the morning. Now, you may be thinking "but Owen… busses are good for everybody involved…". Well, yes, I agree with you. But I'll still tell you to shut up.

Still not convinced? I'll provide an example.