Barking and Swerving but not so much Merging

Let’s begin in the beginning. I’m at the gym this morning.

First, let’s cover two things.

1. At the gym I listen to very, very loud music. I have death metal or metalcore or some form of power metal blaring in my ears at all time, so I cannot hear anything unless I pause the music. I am in my own world. I prefer my own world. I used to go to the gym with workout partners and friends, but two of them now have different work schedules, and another has defriended me and ignored all my attempts at contact for reasons I still cannot wrap my brain around. Now I’m back to going alone, in my very loud and rather lonely world.

2. I am going to talk about a guy at the gym; here’s a physical description of him. Roughly 5’11, 170ish pounds. Absolutely no definition or muscle, very scrawny, but with a very protruding gut. He walks with his back arched and chest puffed out as if to give the illusion of muscle. Thick glasses, balding, 35ish, and not in the least handsome.  

Here’s how my morning at the gym began. Music blaring in my ears, I hear someone making tons of noise; grunting, shouting, etc. I figure someone is benching or squatting over 400lbs—the weight at which excessive noise is permissible.

No. I look over, a few benches away, and the above detailed guy is pressing 40lbs. Not 400lbs, but 40lbs. He’s going absolutely berserk between exercises, stomping his feet and moshing his head and growling. Growling. Okay, sure, he gets really into his workouts despite the lack of evidence that he actually works out. Okay…he’s pressing 40lbs. Whatever.

I shake my head and continue my own workouts, only I cannot ignore this guy. Between reps he saunters around the gym, chest puffed out, scowling, and at one point he stops before a bench, picks it up, and sort of tosses it to the side. He could have walked around the 15lbs bench, but no, he tosses it, or at least tries to but it seems too heavy for him.

Really.

My friend and I discuss the madness we’re witnessing, wondering what the fuck this guy is doing.

That’s when he starts barking. Like a fucking dog. So loud that I turn around and just stare at a man in the gym barking before doing his reps. Really. This is true. I can’t help but laugh, and of course he notices and continues to glare at me for about an hour, as he wanders around, doing exercises incorrectly, with light weight, barking so loudly people stop and stare at him. What the fuck is going on? Why would someone bark!?

I’m already angry this morning—you know, that silent rage and frustration you never allow others to see, as you just press it deeper and deeper inside of you as you ponder everything about the world and about yourself and other people and why things are as they are, and what’s the meaning of life, and all those questions without answers and events seemingly without purposes but they truly have endless purpose and how things are unfair but logical but unfair and illogical just the same; that sort of anger. And this guy is only making me angrier; I keep asking myself what he’s trying to accomplish and why he’s acting so arrogant and embarrassing. I never learn the answer.

Lets skip ahead after a pleasant day at my friend’s BBQ, eating and drinking and talking with friends I haven’t seen in too long.

I’m running now, and it’s dark outside—my usual time to run down an unlit street. The street is 1.4miles there, 1.4miles back, and about .3miles away from my driveway. Tonight I ran there and back twice, so you do the math. It’s nearly 6miles, or something. Fuck you. You made me do all that math.

Anyway, it’s dark and raining and yes, running at night is never the smartest idea. But I wear a reflector vest, and I’m 100% a night person. I also love the wind and rain, so tonight was my perfect running night. Tons of energy.

Until I almost die a few times because of how fucking stupid people are.

First example—I’m on my way back from the stop-sign for the first time, and a car is driving toward me with incredibly bright highbeams on. I can’t see a fucking thing. I’m blind, running, but still running in a straight line so I’ll be fine. Right? No, of course not. Because the fucker SWERVES AT ME! I’m not joking. He crossed the fucking road and swerved at me, coming within a foot of hitting me. I’m a moron and don’t bother to move. Instead, I flip him off. Yes, let’s flip off a stranger in a car during the night, on a road seldom traveled. At this point I’m ready to start fighting a car full of gang members or a man with a shotgun, because, behind me, the car stops. But eventually he starts driving again. So much fun.

Then, on my way back to the stop-sign, another moron decides to flash his highbeams on and off about twenty times, in the process completely blinding me. Thanks for that. I didn't see you driving there in that car. Flashing your incredibly bright lights really helps.

Then another car does it.

I’M JUST TRYING TO RUN!!!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!!

Then two women walking two huge German Shepard’s shine their superpower flashlights in my eyes. I wave, cordially, and they respond with silence, continuing to blind me. Really? I’m the strange one? I’m running at night in the rain. I’m exercising and clearing my mind. You’re walking your two enormous, and likely murderous, dogs at night in the rain. I’m surprised they didn't command their hellhounds to tear me limb from limb.

If this sounds like an angry rant, I don’t think it really is. It’s more of an observation; you know, how people, for the most part, are complete fucking idiots. Perhaps this is why I’m such a solitary person.

Anyway, I’m still brainstorming a work of fiction. While the novel is going well, everything else isn’t. I’ve been in a funk lately and the only way to get out of it is time. New ideas don’t come easy since my mind is so focused on certain things. I’m good, and bad, like that.

If only everyone was cordial enough to not swerve at runners and not bark inside of gyms and not vanish without explanation why and, you know, be friendly to your friends, but people are afraid to merge.