I went back to my hometown last year and reclaimed my old bike for the week. The front gears were a bit bent, but it didn’t stop me from peddling around town, shocking and embarrassing my family as I rolled through the high-end neighbourhoods and down major highways without shoulders. My niece told me that when she sees someone doing that, she automatically thinks “DUI”. Hilarious. Our realities are so different.

Anyway, I can remember when I bought that bike. I can remember when I bought all my bikes, actually. How smooth they were at first, and then how their special weaknesses, quirks and strengths begin to show. I had to leave them behind, though, when I moved overseas. That’s what life is, really, shedding things so that you can move on. Little deaths that lead to new life. I just wish that humans could figure out how to recycle instead of dump.

I can’t write tonight. I’m tired and discouraged. I thought we were moving forward, but it seems we’re still stuck. Everything is freaking stuck.

Good night.