“Thanks for coming in. Have a nice day.”
These two short statements have been said to be countless times, and each time I try to take them to heart and meaningfully reply, “You too.” They are the statements that come with my exit from an undoubtedly enjoyed breakfast experience. I firmly believe in the tradition of going out to eat for the first meal of the day. It gets you up and moving instead of sleeping in until eleven to have a large chunk of your day already gone. Even better, it gets you out of the house and interacting with other people. Then of course there is the food, which is fucking delicious. Eggs, sausage, bacon, wheat toast with a generous application of butter, biscuits and gravy, french toast, corned beef hash, hash browns, omelets…the list goes on, each option as delicious as the next. All washed down with several cups of slightly watered down coffee, this dining experience is one which I have much adoration for.
There is something special about breakfast joints. An old mom and pop diner that has had the same menu since its first day, the wacky and claustrophobic room that is Golden Harvest, or even a simple and greasy Coney Island are all restaurants that have their own unique appeal. I have been blessed to have had many great breakfast joint experiences, and my hunger for more has not been satisfied in the least. I want to have breakfast in a hole in the wall town in the middle of nowhere America, I want to eat lox while I stare out at the Pacific Ocean, I want to have a shitty cup of coffee with a complete stranger sitting next to me at the counter. Hell, at some point in my life I would love to OWN my own breakfast establishment. Spread the joy I have for the pastime.
So if I can sum up my beliefs into one tidbit of advice, it would be this: go out to eat for breakfast. Strike up a conversation with your waiter or waitress, have several cups of coffee and whatever screams “eat me” from the menu. Tip well, and make sure your “You too” response as you leave is sincere.
Have a nice day.
A Chair, A Coin, and Some Scars
Eyelids similar to the heavy red curtain at the Wharton Center (where I recently saw West Side Story with a beautiful someone), the stage is trying to close up for the night. Yet from fellow WrongSiders, I gain inspiration. And as a part of my life comes to an end, it comes time for reflection. For decisions and revisions.
However, I’m going to choose to refrain from writing about running for the time being. The dust has yet to settle on what was my cross country career, and I feel it necessary for more time to pass in order to develop a full reaction to it. There are other parts of my life shining brighter than that event.
I currently sit in a wicker chair older than I, one in which I was rocked as an infant. It’s funny how often life comes full circle. How time passes and connections fade and grow, disappear and reappear. I feel the arm rests, smooth and cool, and wonder if my mother did the same as I lay in her lap. Do you ever stop to hold a coin, take in all its scratches and irregularities, pondering the endless possibilities of its path that led to you? The same can be said about a sun-weathered face, with lines like a road map, charting adventures lived and experiences had. I hope to one day possess a face with great character, hopefully rightfully so, for I also hope to have many adventures and a life hard lived.
I often daydream about my current self meeting my younger self. Would the younger me be impressed with the man I have become? Or would I vow to not become what stood before me? Would I find how I dressed peculiar? Or would I see myself stylish and slick? I would like to think the younger me would be grateful for the person I became, and look forward to the life events that led to that outcome. Sure I’ve made mistakes, but each one of them has resulted in my current existence. And folks, as easy as it is to nit pick where we all are, point out things missing, or complain about how things are, I can confidently say that life is good. And I am happy in the skin I wear.
There is time for wrinkles and scars to be formed. I look forward to each one.
Just Another Night Run
While out on a night run a week ago, I wrote an entire blog entry in my head. It was poetic, hilarious, thought provoking, and philosophical. Sadly, I did not write all my great thoughts down as soon as I got back in. Even worse, here I am trying to recall what was going through my head a week ago. I am completely confident that this attempt will not give my run post justice, but I still want to try. So here it goes…
I sit on the couch, half conscious, mildly aware that as the seconds tick by my run gets pushed later and later. One of the aspects of our lives that we runners take for granted is our damn-near invincible state of living. At any given time, I can get up off the couch, lace up my foul-smelling kicks, and hop out the door at 6:00 pace before the door closes behind me. I decide it’s time to go, and take off into the night.
My brain jump starts into a miniature GPS system. Where do I want to run? Well, it’s dark out, so a route that is moderately lit will reduce the risk of rolling an ankle. It’s welcome week, so I would like to avoid shit-faced hetero brofs that misinterpret their lack of purpose in life for a hatred of the skinny kid with tights on. I filter through known routes including these prerequisites and land on a loop that will satisfy this run’s needs.
It’s a great temperature outside; the midday heat has worn off like the tread on the bottom of my Pegs and I am presented with a clear night with the perfect temperature. A hot biddy runs by me, working her up-do/headband combo. I give her a smile and wave; she returns it. I consider turning around to exchange pleasantries, but opt not to out of fear of terrifying her. It probably isn’t the best strategy to hawk down a girl wearing only half tights (package fully exposed) and ask what her name is. She had a nice smile. That with her good running form make for a potent combination of hotness. Maybe I need to run this route at this time again in the future.
Fast forward a few miles. I take in my surroundings. One of the great aspects of being in shape is the ability to zone out mid-run and devote nearly all attention to the scenery gradually moving by. As if in a slow-moving vehicle that requires minimal effort to propel, I dart my eyes back and forth. Trees, houses with televisions glowing, drunks stumbling down the sidewalk, you name it. I take it all in as the rhythmic tap tap tap of my stride lulls me into a semi-conscious state. Before I know it, I’m already heading back home.
Running through campus. Freshies as far as the eye can see, all dolled up to illegally drink and make a mistake or two. I suddenly feel extremely old. A biking couple pass me. While going by, the girl turns and shares, “Wow, you are cruising!” I think to myself, “And you could do better than the American Eagle cover boy you’re riding with.” As the two slowly fade away in front of me, I regret not sharing my thought out loud. Could have turned my night into an interesting one.
My breath barely audible, I take the last turn towards my home. I’m thankful I have an actual home at school now, instead of an apartment. My porch beckons my name, urging me to take a seat and sip some french press coffee, taking in the rest of the night. “Soon, porch,” I say aloud, “very soon.” Just let me get some strides in, and I’ll be right there.
Flawed Inspiration
Countless times now, I have opened my account with the desire to submit another witty and enjoyable post. Yet when I am finished logging in all I see is the home page, and I feel nothing. I need inspiration to write! What’s the point of posting something online for peers to read unless you strongly believe what you’re sharing? So I vow to never post something unless it deserves to be shared, which for me means I feel strongly about it. Of course sometimes, a stream of thoughts warrants posting for the sole purpose of sharing them with someone, anyone. Last night, as I sat on the sofa, I began half-sleep reflection on the past few days and my experiences. And like a white-hot lightning strike and the pursuing crackle and boom of thunder, inspiration struck! The topic: flaws.
I’ll be the first to admit that I have a terrible tendency to immediately judge a person based solely on first impressions. In a way, these immediate flaws are enough for me to completely dismiss that person as a possible active member of my life. I’m trying to work on that; it’s unfair to write people off so suddenly, and there’s a strong chance I’ve already missed out on some great relationships.
Onto the next aspect of flaws. The combination of watching several television shows (cough, Glee) and observing my own life has led to a mild epiphany. The term flaw, for me at least, brings with it a negative connotation. But that isn’t the way it should be. Flaws are merely traits that people possess which are judged undesirable by outsiders. This judgment, not unlike the ones I commit when meeting someone, are crimes to say the least. Who’s to say what is a positive or negative quality in a person? No one. And yes, traits such as greedy or diabolical are not the best to possess, but if that is who someone truly is, so be it. You accept people for who they are. I may choose not to spend extra time with an individual, but I now am promising myself that I’ll start to appreciate them as an individual.
Because after that initial shock of discovering what flaws someone possesses wears off, you just might find yourself appreciating them as a vital part of that person’s identity.
The world is a beautiful place. You appreciate the small glimmers of happiness that shine on you and warm your face like a sunny summer day, and you can’t help but take a step back and enjoy living. That sentence is so cheesy, my swag has got high cholesterol.
So in short friends, take flaws for what they are: very personalized traits, and accept them. And try to find the little pleasantries in life, maybe make them bigger.
The Start of Something New
I’m pulling the hipster move and seceding from the facebook nation. I know, I know, I’m rebelling from society for the sake of rebelling. I say to you nay-sayers, nay! I simply am taking charge of who I choose to stay in touch with. Not that it requires multiple prerequisites and honors to stay close to me, I just have started thinking about how much cooler it would be to work for interactions with people.
Facebook has made communication too easily accessible. We begin to take for granted looking up a friend to see how they are doing. We wait until after meeting someone to find out their personal information (relationship status is obviously what I’m referring to here). So, why not make life more complicated by making it simpler? Force myself to interact face to face in order to see if someone is single. Look at friend’s blogs to see their reflections and experiences of life. Basically, actually work on friendships. That way, they will mean more, and they will last.
I might be writing to an audience of just myself. I’m alright with that. At least thoughts are being put out there. Allows for reflection and further insight.
And so, without further adieu, I say farewell to facebook. It’s been a fun journey. And I now say hello to tumblr.
Of course, I’m still keeping a twitter. I’m no caveman.
