Rifts

I have this song stuck in my head from this morning - it's by The Killers and is the last song on the Sam's Town album, as well as the last song they play in concert. If we ever find ourselves in long conversations, you'll hear references to song lyrics and the like - but I'm not necessarily a music fanatic. I like what I like, and I love live music of most any kind (it's good for a Pisces' soul). I like quiet when I'm home - most of the time when I'm alone I don't have anything on, just so I can feel the solitude of the place. But when I'm out and about I love to have my headphones in and replace the monotony of the city with the melodies and musings of those much more eloquent than I. Maybe I look self absorbed, hiding in my own head, unconcerned with others and oblivious to my surroundings. Let them think it. The rhythm in my ears dictates the sight of their movements - so we're both thinking in mistaken terms, and equal in our misconceptions. And, for a change, it is not a violent prejudice that lasts - but one that is shrugged off by simply crossing the street and continuing across rifts, of the guitar variety, of course.

March on

Somehow, someway, it is March. My 25th birthday is hurdling toward me like a clumsy fastball, destined to strike with force no matter which way I dodge. The day after my quarter-century revelries marks my one year anniversary in this job. One year! The days and weeks whispered by, some in eloquent poetry, others in crass prose, but all without notice. I have neglected mindfulness for self pity and chosen apathy above appreciation.
Even before the New Year I resolved to actively grow into my potential over the next twelve months. I've started to make necessary changes in my physical health - the least painful place to start. Excuses have been replaced by interval training, and 'inner-aisle' foods with farmer's market fare. Now it's time to start renovating my inner self - a trying process that even the sorest of sore muscles could not hold a candle to.
It is time to reclaim my appreciation and begin again down the path of mindfulness. I must remember my compassion, and follow my path where ever it leads me regardless of how uncomfortable my new reality becomes. It is March already, and 25 is threatening to flatten me on it's high-speed pursuit of old age. But with any luck, and a lot more work, I will be able to approach 26 with months of grace and the pursuit of happiness steadily underway.