Parting Is Such Sustained Suffering

It's interesting how those who are one's friends in general can be one's enemies in particular matters. There will be those who will gladly die for you unless the sacrifice is necessary because you didn't like 'Freaks And Geeks'. Most friends will turn on you when you withhold yourself from them for any reason, even be it pure necessity.

I have written before about saying goodbye either in an ordinary social situation or in advance of a long period of separation. Each of those is difficult for me, but distinct from both is the goodbye said to someone who is hostile to the idea of one's leaving. Added to the necessity of suppressing my constant desire to keep the good times going is the challenge of confrontation, which may be of a jesting nature in part, but which is also in part serious. It's tough.

Aftermath

I don't exert myself physically beyond an unusual amount of walking, but when I do the evidence is written all over my body more eloquently than I could hope to duplicate here. I think that it's partly due to my adoption of an attitude similar to the protagonist in 'Gattaca'. Many of the things I do I am not equipped to come through safely and efficiently. When I go out at night via public transportation, I know I won't be able to come back the same way late at night. Rather than staying home, I just do it anyway and figure I'll work something out. It's similar with physical activities.

Take roller skating for example. I ought to know better than to do that. I don't have a good track record, and there's no safety net for me if something does happen. Protecting oneself from all the harm in life is protecting oneself from life itself though, and so I go ahead with it anyway. The other day I did just that, and as I write this, I suffer the consequences in private. There are bruises around my knees, and while I don't have any color swatches on hand, I can safely say that they are some faint shade of purple. It's a good thing that it's not obvious shorts weather at the moment. I would hate to have my good looks spoiled.

Who Rules?

It took me a long time to accrue any wisdom at all. I feel as if I have just begun to learn anything. Perspective in particular came slowly, but finally I believe that I have some. It began with professional athletics. When I was a boy and the Arizona Cardinals had finally had a decent season for the first time since they had moved to town, their ownership made a push for a publicly-financed stadium. Naturally, being something like fourteen or fifteen at the time, I was firmly in favor of it. The ballot measure failed, and I was positively livid at the senior citizens who had reportedly filled up buses to go to their polling places and voted down the plan.

At long last, I have an appreciation for their point of view and no longer consider football stadiums to be a high priority in public policy. Now, I'm not getting into a corporate welfare rant here. It's more about what's ultimately important in life. I consider athletics to be of such value that you can't imagine. Pro sports are a separate issue. Another story from my childhood comes to mind. The players of one league or another were on strike or contemplating it, and my whole world was crashing down. My father said something that was of little comfort at the time, but is great solace now in helping me see things clearly.

Dogged And Relentless

I continue to turn to afternoon walks in hopes of better learning the neighborhood and receiving inspiration for writing. Having walked every street in the triangle formed by the three major roads that border my home, I have lately turned to the far side of one of the two which run more or less North and South. On one of the side streets there, I did see something interesting enough. On the gate of one home (which I would not say sings out a very enticing song to thieves), an oddly specific sign warned troublemakers of a "German Shepherd On Duty".

On reading that, it occurred to me that I had seen an animal behind the fence moments before. I went and took a second look. There indeed was a German Shepherd about identical to the one pictured on the sign, except that the latter one watches you intently and alertly, and the actual one there was motionless and apparently sleeping. I stood there and watched it, soon judging that this dog was not nearly so dutiful as I was meant to believe. Understand that I was not any more likely now to rob the place, but figured that it would not be any tougher for the dog's presence.

Bump Or Stick Her

I ride in a lot of people's cars, and they seem to blend together in my memory. You'd think I would know everyone's cars, but I don't. I'm always walking strategically behind the driver of whatever car so that hopefully they don't notice my ignorance. I am quicker to observe details about the cars of strangers, be they parked or in motion. Something interesting is bumper stickers. I may not be the first person to comment on them, but I will have my say in any case.

To me, bumper stickers are a lot like cats. The more you have, the more cause there is for people to worry about you. It seems like all of them out there now are of a political nature, when once they were strictly humorous. One is probably fine, especially if it is for an active election campaign, but each one after that is more reflective of an unhinged mind. Worse still, each one increases the odds of your car being defaced in your absence as an answer to your political expression. I don't think it's worth it.

Flipped

Yesterday I spoke of some of my exploits as a pedestrian. Today I offer another. Being out and about on foot as much as I am, I bear witness to some remarkable things. They seem remarkable to me, at any rate. A high percentage of them occur in Hollywood. To the person who lives outside Los Angeles, Hollywood may be more a distillation of their ideas regarding the entertainment industry more so than it is a physical place where people live, work and engage in recreation. To have one's imagined Hollywood replaced with the genuine article is not necessarily a disappointment, but it is not an easy swap.

I always say that it is the weirdest place I've ever been, and I repeat that now. You see things happen there that are somehow understandable only in that context and in no other. It's like a geographic equivalent of intoxication. To say that one did something because they were in Hollywood is about as acceptable as because they were drunk. I would take that anyway. Of course, the two excuses coincide with great regularity.

Buttons

As I don't drive and often find mass transit less than efficient for certain trips, I do a lot of walking. Probably I walk with a purpose other than fitness more than anyone I know, so I feel it's fair for me to consider myself something of an authority on the matter. Take my usual Thursday, for example. The nature of a public transportation grid is that it handles straight lines a lot better than it does trips that have very many turns, so you wind up with itineraries like the one that brings me to my Toastmasters meeting: a bus ride occupies the first ten or so minutes, and walking the remaining twenty. On the way back from the meeting, I tend to walk the whole way, which amounts to an hour or so.

I cross a lot of streets in this way, and most of them legally. Sometimes the 'Walk' signal is controlled automatically and you must surrender yourself to its inscrutable will. Other times, you are granted free will in the form of a button. It's been suggested that the button is often a mechanical placebo, but let's say that it does what it claims. I'll tell you what I do. I approach the intersection and locate the button. I search out any people waiting to cross from my side, and if none are there I look across to the other side for people going the other way. If there are none, I then can assume that no one has pressed the button. I then hit the button hard three times if it is of old construction, or just once if it is a newer model.