Downtown

Last night, I went downtown. As usual, I took the light rail. I always get shit for taking the train, I don’t quite understand why. There’s something about public transit that seems a lot more real to me than driving my car. First of all, you don’t have to dick around with parking. Secondly, it’s a cleaner form of transportation. Note how I’m not saying a green form. That electricity has to come from somewhere, and I’m betting Metro Transit isn’t buying wind energy quite yet. But that’s beside the point right now. Thirdly, I think it’s enjoyable to be with the people. It’s like you’re more in touch with the pulse of humanity, the essence of the city. Maybe that’s just all bullshit, but I’d much rather take the train, and I don’t care what the others think. It's like they consider it unmanly, or some shit like that. Contrary, I would say.

I had initially gone downtown to hopefully listen to some jazz. Unfortunately for that idea, some plans changed, and I ended up not going. Shitty. In retrospect, given the twist, I should have tried to get a rush seat for the Minnesota Orchestra, as they were playing Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Scheherazade,” which is wicked intense. But given my casual dress, I kind of got self conscious, and didn’t go. A poor choice. Although, it would have been kind of lame to go alone.

I ended up hanging at my friend’s condo; we grilled and chilled out a bit. By no means not a good time, but just not exactly what I had been expecting. It was fun to be with old friends, newly married friends, and the like. But it just reminded me of a couple distinguishing factors that set me apart. I think the big thing is that whereas most of the people I know from high school are entering the job market, moving out on their own, and starting to make an actual income, I’m not. For me, all that is on hold for an additional three years as I complete law school. Of course, the advantage of those three years is an almost guaranteed employment. But still, I feel like I’m in a state of arrested development. My friend Josh has a job at General Mills and is pulling in $60,000 a year. I am an hourly wage slave at Walgreens, and spend most of my income on music and coffee, saving the rest to buy a new computer. Oh yes, and I also live in my parents basement. Forgot about that part.

I sort of feel like they treat me like a manchild or something. Now, the man boy lifestyle has been sufficiently chronicled in both story and song, but this is different. This is coming from people who seem to think they have exited the adolescence of their college years, that they are somehow developmentally above those of us who elected for further schooling. In this particular case, I would say that assumption is incorrect. Different priorities, that's the key. If I purchase a CD instead of using it to buy a car or an HD DVD or something, it's not wrong. Different priorities.

I used to think that the Iron Triangle of Farmington, Apple Valley, and Lakeville was the center of the universe. Everyone I knew, everyone I cared about lived within those three borders. Now it’s like I’m on a desert island or something. All those people are gone, like a modern day diaspora. I hate that to see anyone, it consists of this huge commute and this complicated fucking around with the phone. I loathe using the phone. It's like a device used to turn what would otherwise be perfectly normal speech patterns into gibberish. I don't know what does it, but there's something psychological about the phone. I hate it. That's the cruelty though, it's so necessary.

Anyways, it's also tough with the fact that my people at Luther are now dispersed throughout the upper midwest as well. Suddenly, everyone is off doing their thing. And unlike years past, September is not bringing us back together again. So who stays close? I guess I'm really not too worried about that. Not with most people. Life seems to go on.

This was a sort of random post, sorry. I need to find some more focused stuff to write about, but I was sort of pissed off. Anyways, I have to go be Walgreens' bitch again. I'll be glad to get a real job. In three years.