When I first moved here, I came to an orientation at school. Part of it included a meeting getting acquainted with the city, and for some reason, its budget. I remember this man only by what he said; he was otherwise unremarkable and old. I’m young and just dying for a cause so I’ll attack him. He was so gosh darned proud that Tucson had recently cut its budget to roads and highways to other, meaningless shit. Instead of new freeways, we’d probably get more scholarships (and actually, fewer). he said he was happy that Tucson wouldn’t be becoming like Phoenix, that effective transportation is one of the few gifts of satan most of humanity is oblivious to. Well guy who I can’t remember anything about other than his moronic small town ideals about asphalt and getting to places on time: fuck you.

I left a full 30–let me write that out for you: thirty–minutes for class, and I was five minutes late. I live one mile from school. And I drove my car. Granted, the streets by school are particularly crowded for a reason, but there is zero reason for there to be a full mile backup. Green arrows should permit more than one car through at a time. It shouldn’t take me three cycles of a light just to get close enough to start getting excited. Tucson has awful roads, and I am a pissed off person because of them. Don’t even get me started about the potholes.

So yup, twice in less than two minutes I wiped out. The first time was an act of god, I’m sure: a little too much sun, too fast, too much weight on one side, and not enough tire grip. I know how these things work; they’re the same things you’re told driving a car. I just never expected the oversteer to be quite so bad. I knew exactly what was happening while the rear of my bike slid out from the turn. It was fine, I was able to control most of the descent, and managed to slide it out. No scrapes, no issues. Fucking hella embarrassing. Popped right back up, because I was late for class. On my way again. This time, to be fair to myself, a pedestrian stepped out in front of me. Granted, I was riding too close to the edge, but it was crowded. I ended up nailing his foot, and about damn near flipped over, but ended up sliding this one out, too. I was largely fine, though lots of people assumed otherwise. Everyone was nice enough about it, and I felt awful for the other kid. Though pedestrians have the right-of-way, this should go to show you that that doesn’t matter. No one—for the most part—hits pedestrians because they don’t know who should go first, or is acting out against that. This shit happens. Look both ways.

Gosh, I feel shaky right now. I think that has more to do with the fact that I’m really hungry. I ended up with a sore wrist, and scratched-up knee, and a serious case of self-consciousness. Turns out I need a better pair of sunglasses and I could probably go a bit slower. I’m recovering in class right now, since we’re just learning Perl, and thankfully, I already can haz learned that. It could have been a lot worse, e.g., I had a huge amount of expensive technology with me, and it’s all fine. I could have really damaged my bike, but it’s fine, and shifted right out of being out of whack after encountering foot. I could have broken something. That might have been kind of cool, but I’m glad it didn’t happen right before class.

This still surprises me to think about. I’m very clingy, and very adverse to new things. I’m prone to anxiety attacks just thinking about changes in a routine. The thing I wanted most after ending high school was to get the hell away from everything and everyone I knew. This later came to bite me in the ass, but I think has turned out for the best.

I still have an entire two semesters before I graduate, and already I’m feeling the need to flea.  I’ve been thinking more and more about graduate school, and I’m not sure if it’s for me. Yes I love learning, but I do not love academia. I do not love the stress of deadlines, the seeming annoyance of teachers of having to actually teach, and the lack of positive reinforcement. I’m not creating anything there. I’m consuming vast amounts of money, consuming books by the dozens, but still I’m not doing anything worthwhile. Education has turned out to be my most culturally elite and expensive form of consumerism.

All I want to do is start working, and start whatever kind of life can be left for me. I want to plant a garden, and actually eat the food I grow. I want to by a new car, and drive it into the ground. I want to become more of a coffee connoisseur (I’m actually working on that one. I just ordered some green coffee for my very first roasting experience!). I think the plan as it stands right now is to work my ass off and spend as frugally as possible for a decade or so, at which point I’ll happily become a misanthrope and start living off-grid. O, these damn romantic notions.

“I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again.” William Penn

Isn’t this a lovely use of the subjunctive? When I first read this, that’s all I saw. It tickled my inner-linguist in very special way for me. The present subjunctive of “to be” is one of my absolute favorites. This mood works to build a sort of contract. Whereas the subjunctive generally functions in conventionality, a counter-reality of sorts, this use feels very permanent. If an opportunity to bestow this described kindness every appears, he promises to fulfill it. It feels duty-bound, and imparts that duty to the reader.

Human mortality is also subject here. People around me (and I do too) will put things, often personally important things, off, not because they are intentional snubbing the desires and wishes of someone, but because there simply isn’t time. By refusing to stand behind time as an excuse, he uses it to strengthen his volition to do just those things. He doesn’t answer an important question: “Why should I do such things, such acts of kindness?”. Again the subjunctive operates to answer the question. By eschewing the other moods of English, Penn is removed of control of the situation, seemingly placing his fate in the hands of something else. The imperative would be too strong a suggestion, likely to be ignored. The indicative would come off more as an observation. Only the subjunctive here functions to to bring reverent purpose, one the reader would want to emulate.