There have been more than a few failed attempts at blog posts over the past couple months. I am unhappy about not committing more to consistent posts, but I've always thought if you nice people were going to take the time to read, I may as well be somewhat happy with what I wrote.
And I have just been... drained.
Inherently introverted, the holidays, which now seem like distant echoes of a once familiar song, drain me. On top of that fact, I have also been immersed in a large couple of large projects at work that have stolen my ability to focus on anything else. In short, same old shit I always say when I haven't blogged for awhile.
A little Debby Downer moment, if you please - Life is just not that happy and exciting to write about now. No, it's nothing serious. No, it's nothing that won't be in my rear-view before too long. But right now, its more long sighs and fatigue than it is laughter and manic energy.
Take the car show. Emily loves the car show. Dave loves the car show. Greg humors Emily, Dave and I and is a good sport when we four go to the car show. This is a typically annually ritual, though not strictly annual. Sometimes we can't all go so we don't all go. But surely I go and usually Dave. We are the stallwarts.
Greg has been so busy he forgot about it, Em couldn't work with my travel schedule. That left Dave and I. The staunchest of the car show fans in our world. We made plans to go on Tuesday afternoon, after work. Him, after a long day of doing a job he doesn't love, and me at the end of a long day facing a looming deadline the following morning.
Did I mention the high temperature was 8? Yes. 8. Degrees. Farenheit. That's not a lot of degrees.
Planning to meet at 4:30, I got a text at quarter-of-three from Dave. "How keen are you about the car show?"
I wanted to write back - "Very keen! Keen, keen the car show machine!" Instead, I wrote back what I really felt, "meh."
And because we were both exhausted. And because as Dave so eloquently put it, "I just don't feel like walking five blocks on the coldest day of the year (of course!) only to get norovirus the second I touch the door handle and have to jockey around a million people who are in my way so I can't see all the cars I want but won't ever be able to buy."
It was, without question, an excellent argument, and I was, without question not going to argue against. Besides, not having the chutzpah to argue, Dave is a lawyer... he argues for a living. See: "Lose-Lose Situation".
Historically, it's ALWAYS the coldest day of the year when we go to the car show. I can scarcely recall ever being comfortable, or even safe traveling to and from a car show. Why the industry persists in having a major show in January, in MICHIGAN is beyond any comprehension. The only good thing is even the thieves, bangers, pimps and whores, normally so redolent on Detroit's streets are thinned out significantly during the deepest days of winter.
It's one hard-core crack whore out when it's 8 degrees. I don't mean to be mean or even glib, but you spend enough time around the city of Detroit and you become less moved by the blight, human and otherwise, even while being increasingly aware of it.
And that about sums it up. A couple guys with a passion for not only cars, but for the industry, the very zeitgeist that is created by the car culture of the Motor City couldn't even see their way to be a little brave, a little patient and a little cold, (ok, a lot cold... it was 8), to go indulge in their great annual ritual.
I managed to sum up everything I wanted to say in one, compact anecdote. See, things really are weird right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment