Creativity Break

Robert Frost once said "nothing gold can stay" and I believe nothing is more fleetingly golden than creativity.

It is currently 1:45 AM and I have a story to tell. This past week at work my assistant and I have had a war going on regarding the radio station that we listen to, he wants monotonous country and I want butt-kickin'-hairspray-lovin' classic rock. This dispute has gotten so extreme that it has resulted in taping the tuner wheel so the station can't be changed. Side note, the reception is horrendous because there is no antenna just a series of creatively entwined paper clips attached from the radio to the metal frame of my work station.

Our clash began when this past Wednesday we had the station set to the trashville country station to hear the local morning show, all because I'm a nice guy and believe in giving accomodations to those who assist me. In the course of that morning show I enjoyed down-home conversation and the same songs I always hear on the station, because they never change. There was one song that I could not stand it was this song entitled "Firecracker." First off, don't play a song called "Firecracker" when it's snowing outside; secondly, the song writing left a lot to be desired. After enduring the 3 minutes of torture that was this attempt of clever songwriting and cookie cutter country, I was ready to turn it to the classic rock station because the morning show was about done. It was at this point my enthusiastic partner told me that it would just be one more song, I obliged. It was no more than five minutes later that I heard the same attempt at clever songwriting and cookie cutter country that was "Firecracker" all over again.

By this point I was pretty upset so I found something to do outside of my work area, void of crappy music, when about 45 minutes later I returned to an assistant saying "Mike, you don't want to come over here," thinking that he just dry-heaved a deuce (farted) I cautiously walked up breathing strategically. Much to my dismay there was no pungent odor, just the same attempt at clever songwriting and cookie cutter country blaring from our broken down radio. I threw a fit and began to take action. I made a declaration that if I were in the area there was to be no country music, thus starting the previously mentioned war.

Fast forward to later that night, art class. If there was one place I could be sure the classic rock station would be on, it was in the good ol' art room; it wasn't, but the country station was. After explaining my hatred for the station and the continual firecracker assault to my classmates, no more than five minutes later, the last hoorah, I hear the same attempt at clever songwriting and cookie cutter country music blaring from the clay covered radio that had betrayed me so greatly. After publicly making a scene, proving to my "have-better-things-to-do" class how silly it was that I was being attacked by the local radio station, the powers that be made peace and played "If We Make it Through December" by Merle Haggard.

All was well but the war rages on.