This morning I left five minutes later for work and the traffic on the freeway instantly changed. I was able to switch up my schedule, alter it slightly, so now traffic isn't so bad in the morning. As for the evening, well, it's still pretty bad, but it saves me about 10-30 minutes, which is nice (of course, it all depends on the day). I'm looking forward to the summer when the kiddies aren't in school. Traffic usually clears up then. I don't know why. Oh, yeah. Because the kiddies aren't in school.
Sigalert is my friend. Sigalert is not my friend. Sigalert is my friend.
Freaking traffic patterns. It's not like any of it can be helped. I'm either swimming in traffic or I'm not swimming in traffic. Seriously. But it had me thinking about the sadness of thinking in general. And about how I like leaving my apartment before dawn, when the sky is bluish grey. It makes me feel more like I'm going on an adventure than any other time of the day, and no one else is out, so it's like this secret world that me and only a few other morning bird commuters are privy to.
I hate how I am thinking about traffic nowadays. Who freaking cares? I don't. Cities where I don't need a car, that's a beautiful thing.
Though honestly, LA commuting is great for brainstorming. You're moving, but it's not that fast, so you have time to contemplate the universe.
And that's nice. You know. It really is. It's effective. And my morning commute is manageable now, so...
You know, I'm baffled by the cruelty of certain anonymous commenters on the Industry tracking boards. Sometimes I think people just hate something just because they're not part of it, or they're not the one getting paid for the assignment. Why can't people just be happy for other people's success?
Oh, yeah. Because there are a lot of haters out there, that's why. Or not. Maybe they're just shouting out to the abyss, hoping something sticks, that someone agrees with them.
Tonight is the opening celebration of the United Film Festival in Los Angeles. There's going to be a party at Beauty Bar in Hollywood. I think I'm going.
We'll see.
Sigalert is my friend. Sigalert is not my friend. Sigalert is my friend.
Freaking traffic patterns. It's not like any of it can be helped. I'm either swimming in traffic or I'm not swimming in traffic. Seriously. But it had me thinking about the sadness of thinking in general. And about how I like leaving my apartment before dawn, when the sky is bluish grey. It makes me feel more like I'm going on an adventure than any other time of the day, and no one else is out, so it's like this secret world that me and only a few other morning bird commuters are privy to.
I hate how I am thinking about traffic nowadays. Who freaking cares? I don't. Cities where I don't need a car, that's a beautiful thing.
Though honestly, LA commuting is great for brainstorming. You're moving, but it's not that fast, so you have time to contemplate the universe.
And that's nice. You know. It really is. It's effective. And my morning commute is manageable now, so...
You know, I'm baffled by the cruelty of certain anonymous commenters on the Industry tracking boards. Sometimes I think people just hate something just because they're not part of it, or they're not the one getting paid for the assignment. Why can't people just be happy for other people's success?
Oh, yeah. Because there are a lot of haters out there, that's why. Or not. Maybe they're just shouting out to the abyss, hoping something sticks, that someone agrees with them.
Tonight is the opening celebration of the United Film Festival in Los Angeles. There's going to be a party at Beauty Bar in Hollywood. I think I'm going.
We'll see.
No comments:
Post a Comment