Six Days

At the starting of the week
At summit talks you'll hear them speak
It's only Monday
Negotiations breaking down
See those leaders start to frown
It's sword and gun day

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late

You could be sitting taking lunch
The news will hit you like a punch
It's only Tuesday
You never thought we'd go to war
After all the things we saw
It's April Fools' day

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Tomorrow never comes until it's too late

You hear a whistling overhead
Are you alive or are you dead?
It's only Thursday
You feel a shaking on the ground
A billion candles burn around
Is it your birthday?

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Make tomorrow come I think it's too late

Six Days

At the starting of the week
At summit talks you'll hear them speak
It's only Monday
Negotiations breaking down
See those leaders start to frown
It's sword and gun day

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late

You could be sitting taking lunch
The news will hit you like a punch
It's only Tuesday
You never thought we'd go to war
After all the things we saw
It's April Fools' day

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Tomorrow never comes until it's too late

You hear a whistling overhead
Are you alive or are you dead?
It's only Thursday
You feel a shaking on the ground
A billion candles burn around
Is it your birthday?

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Make tomorrow come I think it's too late

The Love of the Ride

Today I rode my bike to work, as I do many other mornings. It was the perfect morning for a bike ride through the Capital City. The weather was slightly warm, the flowers were in bloom and there were leaves on the trees and my ipod added the perfect soundtrack as I sped through the streets. Needless to say, April is a much more enjoyable time to commute to work by bike than, say, January.

As I pedaled across R Street I hearkened back to that feeling I had when I was a kid, riding my bike on one of the first warm Pennsylvania spring days. I remembered the feeling of freedom I experienced and unmatched love I felt for my bike - first my orange and yellow model with the striped banana seat, and later my first 10-speed.

At the time, I would have given anything to be able to ride my bike all-day, every day. For my mother, it was a constant chore to pull me off of it and into the house for dinner. As I got older, I rode it less and less and I thought that when I 'grew up' I would have to give up riding all together.

The realization struck me, this morning, that I am lucky enough to live in a city where I can ride my bike everyday, everywhere. As my primary mode of transportation, it is utilitarian, of course, but I also get to enjoy what I could only have dreamed of as a child. Far from my fears or having to be a responsible, car-driving adult I am a responsible, urban-dweller. And whatever my mother may think of it, she can't stop me. As I crossed Connecticut Avenue and looked at my fellow commuters, I thought, "Why would I ever pick up my car keys?"

Separation Anxiety

Sitting in the courtyard of the Fairmont hotel on this warm spring morning in the capital city, I watch a small story unfold. It is, to me, indicative of the atmosphere that our children are now growing up in that has created several generations of spoiled, me-oriented Americans.

The two parents sit drinking their coffee and conversing as the children run back and forth. Now, I should point at that the children are rather unobtrusive and not really disturbing the people around them, besides the fact that they don't really seem to have been taught that their personal space ends about 12 inches from them and that sometimes you have to use your 'inside voices' outside.

The mother rises and heads towards the door to the lobby and is quickly followed by her young son. "Mommy." She turns to him and says "Mommy's is just going to get some coffee I'll be right back." (Of course at this point Daddy makes no move to intervene in the situation.) "No, Mommy" the boys pleads. She responds, "I'm just going to get some coffee. Stay with Daddy." "No!" "Yes, stay with Daddy I'll be right back." "No!", comes his response again to which the mother quickly responds "Do you want to come with me?"

Let's think about this scenario for a moment. "Do you want to come with me?" Wasn't that the point in the first place? The child obviously either wanted her to stay or to go with her. Her attempts to teach him to spend a moment apart from her were quickly collapsed at the slightest disagreement. The boy seems to have learned two lessons in this single moment. 1. That if he he only puts up a mild protest, he can change any situation that displeases him, and 2. That he can't possibly be without his mother for a second.

I have to wonder. What are the chances that the life ahead is going to meet his expectations?

Words

"If Tyranny and Oppression come to this land, it will be in the guise of fighting a foreign enemy."

James Madison

Dude Looks Like a Bahraini Woman

Is Michael Jackson trying to make it impossible to live in every country in the world? Or has he just completely forgotten that he isn't Latoya?

According to this BBC article, Jacko decided to take a shopping trip in the traditional Bahraini women's attire.

One would think that Michael would have recognized the opportunity to not be seen as a freak in his newly embraced homeland. Before him, was the chance to live a normal life without all the baggage and bad publicity that haunts him in America. I can only believe that he truly has lost touch with reality since he has chosen, instead to exhibit more freakish behavior like using the women's room and now, shopping in women's clothing.

Maybe Michael has seen TransAmerica and the way that Felicity Huffman has been embraced for playing a transsexual. Perhaps he plans to make a triumphant return to his American kingdom with a newly established gender. We can only wait and see. With Jacko, everyday brings a new twist.