Speaking commercially

Time to ramble. Given the borderline insane comment I just left on Speaker's post, reflection tells me I obviously have something that probably ought to come out, lest it sets in begins to fester.

"That's a nice looking car"

We thought it and said it at about the same time. And this time, as with (or so it seems) most other times, these words are inevitably followed by, "Too bad it's a Chrysler." Knowing about "Chrysler Quality" means being doomed to looking around and being disappointed every time you get into traffic. Anyway, we were talking about the neighbor's girlfriend's apparent new car purchase.

"I always wonder why Nancy drives that minivan."
"What minivan? She drives an SUV."
"Well, it's more mini-van than SUV, I think"

The words lept out at me like a TV commercial and in fact sounded just like it when uttered. Obviously, there isn't really any other way to say that, it was just strange and got me to thinking about language. Something along the lines of it not being used as well as it should be, in general as well as personally.

The language of my work environment is eating away at my cerebrum like a cancer. It's dulling, and makes me feel like I'm becoming mute, because if I open my mouth to speak I may scream and never stop. New perspective isn't necessarily all it's cracked up to be sometimes. When transforming into something that is in many ways the opposite of everything around you, it is difficult not feeling completely strange some days.

Goddamn, I'm almost 31. Another year gone. Add on another day of......stuff, mostly miserable, expensive, annoying, and inconvenient STUFF. Treadmill activities, the stuff of beasts who can't or won't know any better. I despise the beast that speaks commercials and find that I desperately want to become something other than that.

Truthfully, I likely just simply need to cool down (Christ it's fucking hot) and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, or so they say. I certainly would like one of those, because they've all been looking like the same tired days I've lived already. It may be cliche to invoke HST righ now, but seriously, How long, o Lord, how long?

Thanks for reading this episode of My Early Mid-Life Crisis.

(Get me out of this fucking city)