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Things That Bug Me

What's going on lately?  Am I getting older and more crotchety?  It seems that things are bugging me more often as of late.  I'm not sure what it is.  Maybe it's the hot Boulder sun?  (No laughing, all of my old buddies from Arizona.)  Maybe it's because I realize I'm slowly getting older, and still have relatively little to show for it.  Maybe it's because our car just passed the one hundred thousand mile point.  Who knows?  With nothing better on my mind than this, here's a few things that have bugged me lately.

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Reed It and Weep

Well, right off the bat, I've missed my "post a week" goal.  Oops.  Good thing I didn't bet my apartment on that.  First of all, the wife would be a little upset with me right now.  Second, I'd be writing this post from the street.  Or perhaps a coffee shop.  Let's face it.  Just because I lost an apartment on a stupid bet doesn't mean I still can't enjoy a nice beverage.  And a pastry of some sort.  One coffee shop in particular has an amazing ginger bread cookie that makes my mouth water just thinking about it.  

I digress.  Instead of making excuses about it, I thought I would use what otherwise would have been an excuse as the subject of this post.

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So About This Blog

How do I pick up a blog in which I haven't written anything for almost a year?  It's rather scary to even realize it's been that long.  Obviously, the readership of this blog is now exactly zero, so it's not like I can say to my faithful readers (both of them) that you can stop holding your breath because I'm back to write world changing posts.  No one is holding their breath, and even if anyone was, they would have long since died of asphyxiation.

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What's This Blog Doing Here?

It occurs to me that I haven't touched this blog in months.

Huh.

Red Light Avenger

Another traffic light turned red in front of me. This was the fourth light in less than a mile that I would now be forced to wait at, my foot unable to pump the gas pedal, my engine and I making the same grumbling noise as we both sat and fumed. I squashed my head tightly back into the headrest, and closed my eyes, attempting to squeeze my frustration out through my ears, where it would vaporize into the air, and streak harmlessly on the windows in the car.

I hate traffic lights because they all turn red when I approach them. Always. Every stinking time. Everyone laughs at me when I tell them that. I get all sorts of advice: Hit the gas quicker when you start. (Didn't work.) Go right at the speed limit, because the lights are all timed to stay green at the speed limit. (Bull crap.) Hit the gas slower when you start. (Strike three.) Then they all get in the car and drive with me, and they are simply shocked that I was actually telling the truth. "You're right," they would admit afterwards. "It's every light!" I usually smack the back of their heads at this point.

Today, though, I had crashed head on into my red light limit. I opened my eyes, and thought for all the world the red light was smirking at me. The sensor next to it looked too much like a middle finger, which it was waving too gleefully at me. At that moment, something in me snapped as violently as a thrown rod in an engine.

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Reluctant Geek: Losing the Urge

This article has been reposted here.

Sorry for the inconvenience. 

The Bewildering Effects of the Tristan Chord (And Other Thoughts on Going Back to School)

I walked up the aisle in my dorky looking graduation gown, my even dorkier looking cap (it's hard to argue that you don't look like a square when the cap you're wearing is, in fact, a square), and my pink tassle.

I don't know about you, but I think making music majors wear some springy pastel color on their hats is a subtle insult by the universities. Other majors get cool colors, like brown, or silver. These colors suggest a strong foundation of knowledge, or a valuable education. Colors to be proud of! We get pink. That's right. Music is nice, and all, but it's nowhere near as important as the silver tassles.

I digress.

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