On the bus reading into life

'Wow this guy has not shut up since getting on the bus.' I thought to myself after about six minutes of trying to read but being continually interrupted by bouts of exclamatory remarks coming from a couple seats in front of me.
At first it was just me and a couple pleasant quite folks on there then the next stop that changed.
'Apparently this guy knows the driver?' He starts talking about the game? A football game? I begin to assimilate the information he's eagerly dispensing. 'Typical' I think, he's so loud. I begin to wonder why people who get a little too into talking about sports have to talk so loud about it so that everyone can hear them rant and give their meaningless opinions about what certain coach/player should have done instead of. It's a shame they couldn't be a coach or player out there cause he'd know exactly what to do. Should put in a application.

Life can be amusing or maybe it's just how I look at it that makes it this way. Sometimes it feels like I'm being thrown a bone that's saying, 'hey man look, we're totally going to make you think there is something deep underlying reality right now, but we're not going to actually prove it.' I was reading about personality types at the time and this guy personified the standard, 'I know everything, listen to me, I'm okay, you should listen to me' type. It was like, ok here is a real life example of what you just read. Watch. Witness. What not to be.

In the end, once I'd given up trying to get back into what I was reading and simply decided to take in the external stimuli, the guy actually seemed to have a well rounded sense of self. He was talking about public broadcasting, current social events, then what his friend should bring into movies to eat in case the movie is bad, cause you never want to just walk out of a movie before it's finished because you might regret it, but you always want to be prepared in case the movie is bad you can chomp on some snack you brought in with you.

I want to read the book where I'm consorting with someone special on a surreal shoreline dining on milky mellon musings under fire pink hues. I should write this book. Some artist's have said that their work became so much of their life, they were so immersed, that it started to dictate what was happening or going to happen in their lives. People or characters began to enter into it that they were writing about. Down to the clothing. I guess this would suggest, to a literal end, that 'we create our own realities.' Engorge.

Lunch Meeting

Thirty year run

I remember being chosen on my track team in the eighth grade to run the mile race. I'd always be the one of the few actually trying to run the whole distance in practices so I guess that's why I was chosen? Running a mile was a long distance to me then. My parents ran three to four miles nightly after work but I could never run with them the whole time. I'd always drop off early and head back to the house.
Before the race I was having anxiety with thoughts of, 'what if I can't finish it?', 'what if I faint and pass out on the track?' But the time came when the whistle blew and I was off. I was determined to finish the race eventhough it was apparent to me in around the second lap that I wasn't as conditioned as the forerunners. 'Just finish Austin and don't stop' was what ran through my head over and over as if I was my own physical drill sargeant. In the end I did finish without stopping and ahead of the other runner from my school, which was a motivating factor, for he was one of the more popular kids in the class but I was never impressed with anything he ever did. He did stuff like let a mucousy goober dangle from his mouth and then suck it back in and repeat, real gross, but that was what got him attention then. That was his trick/shtick.
I remember at one point my fellow team member trying to get me to slow down or even stop because he was going to. He was trying to get me to laugh and lose air, attempting to bring me back to his speed. I told myself not to listen to him and concentrate on saving air and to move past him. I wanted to do better, be better than he. Looking back on this I am thankful that I kept on. There are alot of those instances when I look back at myself and am glad that I see who I was then and recognize that I was aiming to do well, to be a good person. I was raised on very high moral standards. Good manners. For that I'm appreciative of my parent's. My parent's are still running after thirty years of marriage.