Bangor DJ Refuses To Raise The Roof Until City Raises Minimum Wage

DJIn the wake of the Bangor City Council’s recent decision to put off any decision on raising the city’s minimum wage until after the election in November, the city’s most popular DJ has decided to take a stand.

“I’m not going to raise the roof, or rock this city’s parties again until the City Council does the right thing and raises the minimum wage,” DJ Misery Luvs A House Party told this Modern Philosopher.

Well known on the Maine party scene, the DJ, who prefers to keep his true identity a secret, is famous for dressing up as Annie Wilkes from Misery when he spins.

You think you deserve a higher minimum wage???

You think you deserve a higher minimum wage???

“Misery is my favorite movie and book, and Stephen King is a native son, so I honor him every time I’m out there pushing my beats,” he explained, thankfully while not in his Annie mask.  “King’s story is a perfect metaphor for what the City Council is trying to do to Maine’s working class.  They are hobbling hardworking Mainers with a minimum wage that’s not nearly enough to live on.”

The minimum wage in Bangor is currently a ridiculous $7.50 per hour.  The proposal before the City Council would raise it to $8.25 in 2016, with an additional 75 cent increase each year until 2019.

However, the council decided it needed more time.

bangor city hall“What do they need more time for?” DJ Misery threw his hands in the air like he just didn’t care.  Only he did.  Very much.

“I’m lucky enough to earn a decent living doing what I love,” he continued, “but I actually starting deejaying to supplement my income.  I worked at a local restaurant  and I just couldn’t make ends meet.”

He said many of his friends are struggling to get by at minimum wage jobs, and he recently realized that a large percentage of the Mainers who enjoy his music often can’t afford to go out to see him spin.

“It’s ridiculous man!” he growled in frustration as he picked up the sledgehammer that he brings to gigs as part of his Annie costume.

In case you were wondering, Modern Philosophers, the sledgehammer is real.  Luckily, his frustration didn’t get to him enough to cause him to use it during our interview.

“I started asking the clubs to give free entry to my shows to anyone who could prove they earned minimum wage, but they wouldn’t do it.  They said it wasn’t financially feasible.  So I told them it wasn’t morally feasible for me to keep spinning for only the fat cats and spoiled rich kids.”

raiseHe did a few house parties for minimum wage earning fans, but realized that he could make more of an impact by not playing.

“Most of my summer gigs are private parties for the kids or relatives of City Council members or the owners of business who won’t pay Mainers a fair wage,” he informed me after putting down his sledgehammer.

“I decided to pull the plug on them.  Why should they get to raise the roof and dance the night away while my real fans are out working double shifts just so they can pay the bills and put some food on the table?”

DJ Misery’s stand has made him the darling of Maine’s working class, and a thorn in the side of those with a little extra cash to burn.

“I’m not going to name names, but I’ve gotten dozens of messages from fans telling me they refuse to talk to their parents until they do something about this problem.  Maybe the people with the power to enact change can be so indifferent because the issue doesn’t affect them directly, but once they have to deal with a little discord within their own homes, they might change their tune!”

BangorThis Modern Philosopher is a true believer in the power of the people.  DJ Misery Luvs A House Party might not be raising the roof in protest, but Mainers have the power to blow the roof off this minimum wage debate.

Speak up!  You have the power to make the City Council see things differently.  Let’s pull Bangor’s wages into the 21st century…

Posted in Entertainment, Humor, Music, musings, Philosophy | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Now This Is Stephen King’s Maine

fog 1I have to admit, Modern Philosophers, that when I moved to Maine, I expected it to be exactly like something out of Stephen King’s scarier novels.

In fact, when we were deciding where we wanted to live, I told J (my wife at the time) that I wanted to be out in the middle of nowhere.  I pictured an old cabin, a huge fireplace, an awesome porch, and lots of woods.

J immediately dismissed this by exclaiming: “That’s the kind of place where people get killed in Stephen King books!”


So I got overruled on that one.  J is long gone, but The House on the Hill is still mine.  I love where I live, and it has turned out to be very much like a Stephen King novel now that the Otherworldly Beings have revealed themselves.  They told me they didn’t stop by while I was married because J scared them too much!

This morning, when I went for my run, I discovered a world very much like something out of a horror movie.  I said to myself, “Now this is Stephen King’s Maine!”

After my run, I took a few photos so you could see what I meant by that comment…

fog 2The fog was incredibly thick this morning.  Doesn’t this photo look like it could be a still from “Stand By Me”, Modern Philosophers?

There is a very good chance there is a dead body somewhere along those railroad tracks, but there was no way I was walking into that fog to find it.

fog 3The House on the Hill looks like it’s about to be swallowed up by the fog.  Or should I refer to it as the mist since this is Stephen King country?

The grass was covered in an odd dew as well.  You can see the shiny spots on the section of the lawn near the garbage can…

fog 4The streets were eerily quiet.  As I was running, I kept waiting for something to jump out of the fog and attack me.

If you recall, the one horror movie that scared the crap out of me when I was younger was The Fog.  This morning, I was certain there were pirate ghosts stalking me under the cover of the soupy mist…

fog 5The street sign warns that there is no left turn ahead, but when I took this photo, I had a sense that there might not be anything at all up ahead.

The fog just seemed to be swallowing up everything in sight…

fog 6I thought the church looked especially creepy in these conditions.  Of course, a church played a big part in the plot of The Fog, so my overactive imagination had me thinking that I would be under attack at any moment.

I definitely felt like a character in a horror movie, and this was the point when the scary music would swell up, and I would meet my end within spitting distance of the church from which I’d strayed over the years….

fog 7I can usually see the church and the other side of State Street clear as day through this opening down the block.  Not today.

This foggy world seemed very claustrophobic…

fog 8I actually made very good time on my run.  Perhaps I was eager to get the hell out of the fog as quickly as possible?

Still, that didn’t prevent me from wandering around with my phone taking photos once I was done.  I blame that on the loss of bodily fluids…

fog 9I really like the way the color of the Railroad Crossing sign jumps out at you from the upper corner of this photo.

Look at me trying to put my Film School expertise to work with a camera phone…

fog 10Nothing ended up jumping out at me from the fog, and it eventually burned off (or moved on to haunt another town!).

It took the longest time before I could look down my street and see Bangor again.  It was a creepy morning, and definitely made me feel like I lived in Stephen King’s Maine.

Wish you were here, Modern Philosophers.  It would’ve been nice to have a little company out there in the fog…

Posted in Humor, Movies, musings, Philosophy, Photography | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 34 Comments

Does Slow Dancing On A Grave Lead To Necrophilia?

graveyardSeveral local morticians with apparently far too much time on their hands, recently sat down to ponder a Deep Thought that has kept many people awake at night:

Does slow dancing on a grave lead to increased instances of necrophilia?

I also had too much time on my minds, Modern Philosophers, because I tracked down this pack of Morbid Philosophers to ask them about their conclusions.

“Wait, you actually heard about that?” asked Cecil, the only member of the posse who was willing to speak on the record.  “I didn’t realize we shared our findings.  How much did we have to drink that night?”

That question led to shrugs all around from his silent partners in this little bizarro world Philosophical adventure.

After it was established that alcohol, boredom, and morbid curiosity had fueled their troubled journey down such a dark and freaky road, I told the group that one of my interns had stumbled upon some tweets about the conversation.

Every head in the room other than mine turned to glare at a pudgy man in an ill fitting suit, who sat in the corner and worked his thumbs madly over the mini keyboard on his phone.  He seemed oblivious to his surroundings and to the attention.

grave morticians“[Name redacted] is obsessed with Twitter,” Cecil explained.  “I know morticians are a little creepy, but that guy is the one who creeps out the rest of us.”

Just a little creepy, Cecil?

“Nothing from that discussion was ever supposed to make it outside of this group,” he insisted.

But it had and now this Modern Philosopher wanted to know what had been decided.

“Why do you care?” Cecil challenged.  “Are you some sort of necrophiliac?”

That elicited some nervous chuckles from the rest of the group.

With a roll of my eyes, I told Cecil and his cronies that I just thought that the headline on this post would attract readers…both living and dead.

“We argued about it for hours, checked the internet for data to back up our theories, but in the end, it really came down to a gut feeling,” Cecil told me quite seriously.  “There really haven’t been any reported cases of necrophilia in some time, which is a bit surprising given the current popularity of The Walking Dead.”

ZombiesI really wanted to further explore that odd comment about one of my favorite TV shows, but I already had a severe case of the heebie jeebies from being around this bunch, and I needed to wrap it up.

By unanimous decision, the morticians had voted that slow dancing on a grave did not make someone suddenly want to sleep with either the person in the grave, or with any other corpse.

“In the end, we realized that a person who would slow dance in a cemetery does not belong to the set of people who are interested in boning a corpse.  Now, if we were talking moshers, break dancers, or ravers, then, yeah, I think those folks would be up for getting their undead freak on once the music stopped.”

The others nodded in agreement.  Even the guy who couldn’t seem to stop tweeting.

grave danceSo let that be a lesson to you, Modern Philosophers.  Ten out of ten of the weirdest morticians ever assembled agree that slow dancing on a grave does not lead to instances of necrophilia.

You can finally sleep soundly.

You’re welcome…

Posted in Funny, Humor, Love, Music, Philosophy | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Would Trump Banish Maine’s Aliens To Deep Space?

trump 2I was invited for Sunday Brunch aboard the Glovorkian Mothership that hovers high above Bangor, Modern Philosophers.

While this was not my first meal aboard the mighty spacecraft that is the jewel of the Glovorkian Fleet, I got the sense that the last second invitation meant that my Alien friends had something important they wanted to discuss.

These Deep Thoughts were confirmed when, upon exiting the shuttle craft, I was immediately ushered into the Officers’ Dining Room, and discovered that I was the only person in a space that can easily fit two hundred beings.

The scent of bacon was in the air, though, so my stomach’s needs took priority over my curiosity for the moment.

When the server appeared with an ice cold Snapple, I thanked him and immediately ordered chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a mound of bacon.

Even though the Glovorkians are from a galaxy far, far away, they have perfected the art of the All-American breakfast.  If I hadn’t been staring down at Earth through the window next to my table, I would’ve sworn I was in some fancy New York restaurant.

mothershipAs I enjoyed my food in silence, the Mothership hurtled through space until it was orbiting Saturn.  It was the perfect view, and our arrival at the ringed planet also meant I would finally get some answers as to why I had been invited to brunch.

“I hope you find your pancakes to be most delicious.  The bacon smells delightful!” Zyg, the Glovorkians’ Chief Intelligence Officer, said when he appeared at my table.

The Glovorkians are tall, thin, large headed Aliens with enormous eyes, but they move in stealth mode.  I never hear them coming.

Even though Zyg was dressed in casual Glovorkian garb, I knew he was on official business.  I invited him to join me, and he sat down across from me with a forced smile on an otherwise pained face.

“I think we have a problem, Austin,” the Alien Spymaster told me grimly.  “The Supreme Leader is quite concerned about this Donald Trump character.”

Aliens“There is great concern that if this Trump is elected the next American President, he will no longer grant our people asylum in Maine,” Zyg explained.  “Your President Obama has been very welcoming, but based on what Mr. Trump has said about deporting Mexicans and other illegal human aliens, we fear how he would react to learn that there are hundreds of thousands of Intergalactic Aliens living in and above Maine.”

Zyg definitely had a point.  The Glovorkians kept a very low profile in Maine.  Those who chose to live on planet and interact with other Mainers disguised their appearance when people from away were in the vicinity.

The Mothership and the other ships in the Glovorkian Fleet, where most of the Aliens resided, were hidden from view by elaborate cloaking devices.  It was Alien technology that would never be penetrated by any Earthly technology.

If you didn’t live in Maine, and you didn’t have the need to know, you most likely had no idea that visitors from another galaxy lived here (unless you read my blog!).

“Should he win the election, he would have to be told of our existence, correct?” Zyg queried with deep concern in his voice.

I picked up a piece of perfectly cooked bacon and munched on it as I formed Deep Thoughts on how to answer that question.

Trump 1“What if President Trump decides to banish us to deep space?” Zyg asked as he studied charts of early Republican polling numbers.  “We could survive there, of course, but my people have come to love life in Maine.  It was hard enough for them to leave their home planet behind, and I fear that having to leave their adopted home planet would just be too much for them to handle.”

After I got over my initial panic at hearing the words “President Trump”, I assured Zyg that it was highly unlikely that the belligerent billionaire would win the election.

“But what if he does, Austin?” he persisted.  “It is my job to gather intelligence and brief the Supreme Leader so he is prepared for any possible threats to those he has sworn to protect.  Right now, this Trump is a very serious threat to the Glovorkian race.”

I pushed aside my plate and looked Zyg straight in his giant eyes.  “If Trump wins the election, Americans are going to riot and beg your Supreme Leader to take over the country until common sense prevails.”

The Alien Spymaster smiled slyly and shook his big head in understanding.

galaxyOnce Zyg had accepted that the Glovorkians were a much larger threat to Donald Trump than he was to them, he relaxed and joined me for a plate of chocolate chip pancakes.

He asked the Captain to set a course for Pluto, and while we enjoyed the view on the way to the ex-planet, Zyg and I discussed less stressful things like his love of baseball, why Independence Day is his all-time favorite movie comedy, and how much he’d love to have Foo Fighters give a concert on the Mothership.

Not only did I manage to defuse a possible intergalactic catastrophe that day, but I also got a great lesson in why it is so important to be accepting of those different from me.

Now if I can only convince Dave Grohl and the boys to rock out on the big ship…

Posted in Funny, Humor, musings, Philosophy, Politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Monday Morning Coffee Club: 7/27/15

Giant mugGood morning, Modern Philosophers.  Happy Monday!

It’s hard to believe that this is the final Monday of July.  Where has the Summer gone?  I’m making the most of it by writing this out on the front porch of The House on the Hill.  It’s so quiet out here, and the weather is just perfect.

So what Deep Thoughts are rumbling around in my head this morning?

Someone once told me that running will give me insights into my true self.  Do you want to learn what secret I’ve learned about myself over the past three weeks of my new running routine?

I’ve discovered that I exist in a state of eternal soreness.

That’s right, Modern Philosophers, I woke up this morning aching all over and wondering if a gang of rough and tumble Ghosts had beaten the crap out of my while I slept.  I checked my body for bruises, but then I realized that Ghosts might leave Phantom bruises that could not be detected by the eyes of the living.

Of course, then I wiped the sleep from my eyes, cleared my head, and realized that I was sore from all the running I’ve done.  Fourteen days out of the last twenty have been spent running… not the entire day (although it does feel like it at times).

Thankfully, Monday is one of my rest days, so my tired muscles can complain all they want as long as they are ready to run again when my alarm goes off at 5:30 tomorrow morning.

MondayI also got some interesting insight into my life from last night’s short story.  If you haven’t read it yet, here’s a link… One Hell of a Deep Thought.  As usual, I wrote the story with no outline.  I just knew that The Devil was going to tell me that my running had inspired him and then make a comment about how I might already be in Hell.

I let the story decide where it was going, and by the time I’d arrived at the end, it had gone from being a humorous tale to one that made me really reflect on my life.

Since I’m the writer, it means that, in some ways at least, I believe what my characters are saying to be true.  Do I really think that my life is Hell?  Or was that just my sore muscles and lonely heart talking?

Believe me, I’m going to form many more Deep Thoughts on that one!

Well, the interns are telling me it’s time to wrap up this post and head back inside to get ready for work.  It has been delightful sitting out on the porch and sharing my Monday Morning Deep Thoughts with you.

Please help yourself to some coffee.  There’s only seventeen hours left of the final Monday in July.  Do something to enjoy the day and make it memorable!

Posted in Fitness, Humor, musings, Philosophy, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

One Hell Of A Deep Thought

running hellI sat down on the couch, freshly showered after my run, and chugged half of my glass of chocolate milk in one thirsty gulp.

The Devil put down his newspaper and smiled.  “I was beginning to think that Snapple was the only beverage your body would accept.”

I rolled my eyes at my impeccably dressed guest and then wiped away my chocolate milk mustache.  “I always treat myself to a glass of chocolate milk after a run.”

“I really must applaud you on your new found dedication to running,” Lucifer said as he snatched a Snapple out of the cooler.  “You’ve actually inspired me.”

Being sure not to get a drop of iced tea on his thousand dollar suit, he took a mighty sip of what had also become his favorite drink.

“So you’ve been running?” I asked in surprise.

DevilThe Prince of Darkness had a good chuckle.  “Me?  Run?  Come on now, Austin.  Look at this physique.  This isn’t a runner’s body.  This is chiseled perfection that can only be attained in one manner.”

“I keep forgetting you’re Satan,” I replied with a shake of the head.  “You can change form at will.  You don’t have to work to look like that.  You just snap your evil fingers, and so it is done.”

That earned me a Devilish grin.  “You sound jealous.  Didn’t the Nuns teach you that envy is one of the Seven Deadly Sins?”

“No, but I did see Seven, so I knew that,” I quipped and then finished my chocolate milk.

“What’s in the box?  What’s in the box?!?!?!” The Devil asked in a spot on impression of Brad Pitt from the flick.

“So if you don’t run, how do I inspire you?” I asked to get the conversation back on track.

“You’re not going to like this,” Lucifer cautioned as he handed me a Snapple to help take the edge off whatever he was about to tell me.  “I’ve seen how miserable running makes you, and I’ve read on your blog about how much you hate it.  So naturally, I instituted mandatory morning runs in Hell.”

“Oh boy…” I sighed and took a long sip of my Snapple to dull the pain.

just run“Every morning at 5:00, all of Hell awakens and runs four miles,” he notified me with a wink.  “And there’s no shady side of the street on which to run in Hell.  Thanks for the inspiration.”

“I am so glad I’m not going to Hell,” I declared as I slammed my bottle down on the table in disgust.

“How do you know you’re not already there?” The Prince of Darkness asked mockingly.

I gave him a sideways glance.  “Funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Satan insisted.  “Give it some Deep Thought, Mr. Modern Philosopher.  You are often in the presence of The Devil, are you not?”

“Sure, but there’s usually a Leprechaun running around here, too, and that doesn’t mean I’m in Ireland,” I countered in a surly tone.

“Your dating life is an absolute disaster,” The Devil continued as if he hadn’t even heard my amazing Leprechaun argument.  “In fact, I’ve heard you say on numerous occasions that dating is Hell.”

“It is, but that doesn’t mean I’m in Hell.”  I glared across at my annoying guest.

bad date“Every time you think a date goes well, she wants nothing to do with you,” he reminded me as if I’d ever forget that fact.  “When a date wants to see you again, you’re not interested.  It’s as if the system has been rigged to increase your suffering.”

He flashed me a Devilish smile this time.

“While that sounds like something you would do to punish the Damned, you didn’t invent dating,” I stated with confidence even though, for all I knew, Satan had a patent on dating.  It wouldn’t surprise me.

“You’re alone, which bothers you immensely,” he continued to pile on the facts like a prosecutor going after a defendant.  “Dying alone is your deepest fear, and every night you go to bed all by yourself, you toss and turn in the dark thinking about how that phobia is looking more and more like your destiny.”

“Okay,” I said throwing up my hands in surrender.  “You’ve made your point.  Let’s watch the Yankee game.”

Lucifer snatched the remote control off the table before I could get to it.  Clearly, he was not finished with this conversation.

swing“The love of your life is in another time zone and will not acknowledge your existence.  That weighs on you every day, breaks your heart just a little more, and makes you question if you are ever going to be happy or loved again.  If I were going to create the most Hellish experience for you, Austin, this would be it.”

I looked over at him, but could say nothing.  I sensed that all the color had drained out of my face, and I felt  lightheaded because for once in my life, only one Deep Thought occupied my mind…

“Maybe you’re right,” I muttered and then rose from the couch on shaking legs that could barely support me.

“I’m just messing with you,” The Devil assured me and chuckled.

“I’m not feeling well,” I mumbled as I headed for the stairs.  “Make sure to lock up behind you.  If this is Hell, I really shouldn’t trust anyone in the neighborhood.”

Lucifer looked at me in confusion, like he was waiting for me to turn around with a big smile on my face, and reveal that I was just screwing with him.

But I wasn’t.  He’d given me a hell of a lot to think about…

Posted in Dating, Humor, musings, Philosophy, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 21 Comments

Some Deep Thoughts Bring Me To Life

running 6Happy Sunday, Modern Philosophers!

It’s rainy and overcast here in Maine, but nevertheless, I am out on the porch of The House on the Hill.  It’s my favorite place to write, and it’s so peaceful and quiet out here that I can be alone with my thoughts.

It’s amazing how many Deep Thoughts manage to bounce around inside my head over the course of a day, and they seem to multiply exponentially when I’m running.

This morning was no different.  I woke up far too early for a day off, but I knew it was supposed to rain all day, so I got out of bed and prepared for my run.  Running toga on, sneakers laced up, and ear pods blasting Foo Fighters Radio into my ears.

Despite Dave Grohl and the boys rocking my eardrums, my brain was still able to conjure up the Deep Thoughts at a much faster pace than I was running…

A female road runner runs down a road at dusk at Independence Pass.“You’ve run thirteen out of the last nineteen days.  No one is going to give you grief for taking a day off to rest your weary bones.”

That Deep Thought was the loudest as I prepared to start my run.  I was sore.  I was tired.  A lazy, rainy Sunday sounded wonderful.

If I’d given in to that thought, I would’ve hated myself later, and felt like I was falling back into my slacker ways that led me down the path to being overweight and out of shape.  One day off becomes two, and next thing I know, I’m back to couch potato status.

running 3“There’s no way you’re going to make 4 miles today.  If you turn around now, it’s a solid 2 mile run, and you can say you’ve run 14 out of the last 20 days.  That’s 70%!”

My Deep Thoughts are very good at math, and they really seem to enjoy numbers and statistics.  At the one mile mark, I was still feeling stiff and sore, the sky was getting darker, and there was a definite chill in the air.

This was the first morning of the Summer I’d had to wear a sweatshirt on a run.  It seemed like everything was pointing towards cutting this one short, and getting back to The House on the Hill before the rain started.

Then I remembered that I never really loosened up for a run until I get that first miserable mile out of the way.  I was already out on the road, so I might as well stick to the plan.

Sure, 2 miles is still a decent run, but since I’d set out to do 4, I would’ve felt like a failure.

running 4“Did you see those photos on Facebook of Christie completing a 50 mile Ultra Marathon yesterday?  If she can do 50, you can push your lazy ass to run 46 miles less than that!”

I definitely found inspiration in my friend Christie’s running a 50 mile marathon in Washington yesterday.  I was utterly blown away by that, and sent her a message of congratulations before I set out on my run.

Christie was always a star athlete.  She played field hockey at U Maine, and she was always going on long runs.  She’s like 15 years younger than I am, but 50 miles is still an impressive number no matter what your age.

Inspired by Christie’s accomplishment, I formed the Deep Thought that I was not only going to get my 4 miles in, but I was also going to push myself a little further.

running 5“You know it was foolish to add distance when you can barely outpace a turtle at this point, right?  What were you thinking?”

That Deep Thought definitely had a point, Modern Philosophers.  While I only added maybe another tenth of a mile to my run, it seemed more like 10 miles as I made my way back to The House on the Hill at a very slow pace.

I just kept thinking that the longer I was out on the road, the more calories my body was burning.  That is the ultimate goal in all this, isn’t it?

It’s not like I’m training to be a long distance runner.  I just want to get myself back into shape, build my self-confidence, and maybe give myself a chance at attracting a member of the opposite sex.

running 7“You’re going to die out here, and since you don’t carry ID on your runs, the police will never be able to identify your corpse.  You’ll be buried in an unmarked grave, and no one will even realize that you’re gone.”

Okay, so my Deep Thoughts get a little morbid when I hit the wall on a run.  Luckily, there are so many thoughts bouncing around in my head that they eventually drown out the really depressing ones, and help me keep going.

I kept telling myself I could do it, and if I stopped to walk, even for a second, I was going to be pissed at myself.  There are enough people in the world upset at me, I don’t need to add myself to the list.

With about a mile to go, I just felt it.  My second wind, that extra gear…whatever you want to call it, it just kicked in.  I saw a couple of walkers (not The Walking Dead kind, just two living people out for a stroll) far ahead on the other side of the road, and decided that I absolutely needed to catch up with them.

Just go run“Great.  You caught up with the walkers, but you emptied your tank in the process.  How are you going to make it the last half mile home, genius?”

I was out of breath, really feeling it in my legs, so I chugged some water and tried to form one last positive Deep Thought to get me back to The House on the Hill.

The last hill of my run awaited me, and it was always a challenge even when I was feeling good.  Today, it looked like Mount Everest.

Then a new song started, and it just spoke to me.  The tune was “Bring Me To Life” by Evanescence, and it was exactly what I needed.

I sprinted up that last hill, which is something I never do, and then let the momentum on the other side carry me all the way to The House on the Hill.

I made it.  Damn, did it feel good!

In case you need a little inspiration or motivation today, Modern Philosophers, here’s he video of the song that gave me a much needed push…

What do you do when you need that extra push, Modern Philosophers?  How do you motivate yourself when you think your tank is empty?  Do the positive thoughts always win out over the negative ones?

Posted in Fitness, Humor, Music, musings, Philosophy | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 26 Comments