Breaking Out and About

• One day, after I'd been going to college for a year or so, I was playing video games with my neighborhood friends. It was dinner time and, without much thought, I stood up and announced that I was going to “break out”. Anytime new phraseology is introduced into one's personal lexicon, people notice. Just the other day Rey confronted me online about my increased (mis)use of ”et al.” of late. I honestly hadn't noticed, and can't account for where it was coming from. I tend to have the mentality(and sadly physique) of a sponge, so when I'm exposed to words and behavior I absorb them, often subconsciously. “Break out” was a fairly common expression among my college friends when they were leaving a gathering, but one my neighborhood friends had never heard, and thus I was mocked for it.

• Prison Break returned for a second season this past Monday, literally off and running. William Fichtner joined the cast as an FBI agent pursuing the escapees, and dangerously figuring out Scofield's plans. Now that the convicts have broken out, and the show is no longer mainly confined to the prison as it was in the first season, it opens up many avenues of storytelling. The ending of Monday's episode, long overdue given events of last season, was still a shock, and I think set the tone for the rest of this season. I won't spoil it, but check out the full episode while it's still online.

• People need to break out of the habit of rushing. My driving experience on Wednesday was something of a tragedy in three acts. In act one, I slowed to a stop at a light at the bottom of a hill, noticing a car in my rearview mirror edging to the right. I cut left a little to give him room, and he squeezed between me and a parked car to make a right on red. It was a normal enough maneuver, until I watched in disbelief as he executed a u-turn across four lanes and a double yellow line, then made another right turn and continued in the direction he would have been going if he waited behind me for the light. Act two of my commuting experience found me nearly to work, waiting behind a bus that was taking entirely too long to move after picking up a passenger. Still, I would be patient because I'm working on that weakness, and because, let's face it, all we need is just a little patience. Behind me, cars cut to the left to pass us. Behind me, a light turned red at an intersection. Before me, the bus remained idle, lights flashing. I edged to the left. No one was behind me in either lane. I turned around after checking my mirror and pulled forward, suddenly struck by the jarring blow of a blaring horn. I quickly returned to the right lane as a car veered around me, followed by a second car. I have no idea where they came from; I guess they turned at the intersection. The bus now was moving, so I remained in the right lane, in a cautious state of driving a little slower. At one point our lane moved a little better than the left lane, and I passed the car that nearly struck me, mumbling a sheepish “sorry” under my breath and looking straight ahead as I passed. The third act of my commute occurred on my ride home, when I saw flashing lights and traffic blocked on both sides of the road. There was a bus pulled over ahead of me, and one on the other side coming from the opposite direction. There was a large crowd of people gathered, and an ambulance in the center. Within the circle of people, buses, and police cars I couldn't see what happened as I detoured on to a side street. Whatever it was, it was bad. I felt as if the dangerous moves and near misses from my morning commute were foreshadowing for whatever had happened in the evening.

• I know few people who are truly free. In some way we're all prisoners of our habits and routines. We become institutionalized. Change is more horrifying than an unpleasant existence. I'm taking a day off today. I never take more than one day off at a time, and haven't done so since I graduated college in 1996. I wouldn't know what to do with myself for a week, and would probably vegetate in front of the computer or television, occasionally doing yardwork or other tasks around the house to avoid being labelled a “bum”. I worry about the expense of a real vacation, and the unknown, being so far removed from the familiar. Work gives my life structure, yet as much time as I spend working I don't feel I earn vacation time because I'm not doing physical labor. At the heart of things my parents are right; I do just sit in front of a computer all day. Every once in a while though my vacation days take me away from the routine, and I force myself to break out. The best adventures happen when I don't have a plan, and just pick a direction and drive. I suspect photos of my shrine visit may have proved deadly to my ratings, especially to subsequent Photo Blog Wednesdays, but for me it was a great day, especially because it was unplanned. I just went East. It's supposed to rain today though, and I need to go to the bank to renew a CD, and I promised my dad I'd help him buy a new television for my mom, because hers stopped working and she's too sentimentally attached to it to replace it herself. Chances are today will be about errands, which on a Thursday are in themselves a break from my routine of sitting in a cubicle. It may even be enough of a distraction to silence the annoying part of my brain that feels guilty because I'm not at my desk, where I should be. I'm aware of my various self-imposed shackles, and from time to time friends will point them out to me. It's not easy to escape prison, but we're all capable of breaking out.

Aren't we?