a meat market, and not the good kind

Every morning, as I walk to the train, I pass a meat market. I should preface this with the fact that I'm not a vegetarian- I like steak and the rest of the commonly consumed game as much as the next gal... Before I have my coffee, though, the last thing I want to see is a reddish slab of uncooked meat. EW. And next to a pretty little coffee shop? That's just mean. Pumpkin muffins and bleeding prime rib? This does not evoke feelings of warmth. Epic fail.

on the train, again.

I write from the train on a monday morning with the feeling of monotony sitting in my stomach, camped out right next to hunger. Is it age? Innate personality? Is it normal? Sometimes music breaks up the train ride monotony- today, specifically, tales from iron and wine, damien rice, nina simone and their friends ground me to a mentality of the 9-6 (7? 8?) workweek. Often, it is after work activities that add this needed color. Don't get me wrong- work itself is exciting- pleasantly pressure-filled and chock full of opportunity to learn about new things everyday. All of that said, though, it's just not enough. A trip to greece helped... And then skydiving helped...and now an impending trip to chicago (I've never been, please advise) is helping. I suppose I'm just built to wonder "what's next." Believe me, this has got dual implications. I just realized this post may seem like a whine, and I assure you, it's not. Simply an observation- one made every monday morning on the same train, to the same place.