A Tale of Two Cities

The train straddled the snow-packed track halfway between where I live and where I work, and held this position for nearly an hour this morning. As I sat there, uncharacteristically, not feeling impatient, I realized this scenario I was in was the metaphor of my life. I am always between two worlds, and I have a growing sense of apathy toward them both–the way you eventually stop wondering when a negligent friend is going to call you–because you know he isn't. The kind of detachment that has its root in being let down repeatedly.

I have never been at peace, internally, and my external situations always reflect that restlessness.

I made it into my place of business about an hour and a half later than I should have, but I'm leaving on time, because I'm not paying back time I'd just have to spend idling on metal rails in the bitter dark cold of a February evening, hoping everything holds out a bit longer.

'Bina, if you're reading this, do you think you could have a Beam-n-Coke w/ two cherries ready for me when I get home?