Titles are for suckers

After waking up the next morning James raged a mental war which he had raged every morning since an icy chill had engulfed his area a month before. The game generally played out the same, both sides too lazy to come up with a new strategy and both sides to used to the result to strive for anything else. His side rode, with the banners off 'time to start the day'. The other side used the unfortunate weather as its strategy fighting for 'it's too cold to get out of bed'. The first fight was always won by the later with the snooze button being hit and 10 minutes dissolving into what felt like moments until his alarm rang again. The first side, angered by their defeat rode for 'if not now then we will be late'. The other side was still charging to the same tune, same message and as was always the same, that battle and the war was won by the former. That's not to say it was not a lengthy battle, that many lives were not lost and that many fought valiantly, but this was a game with no real rewards or gratitude, just James sliding out the warm womb of quilt and mattress into the cold chill of his room. This day was the same as all the days of the frost and he prepared to begin his uninteresting day.

There is an interesting thing about life. You don't really get to choose how interesting your day is going to be. You can pretend you know, pretend you move the tides and control the winds but it's life choice and, on days like this one, life chooses to show you who calls the shots by aiming the shot at your leg (metaphorically usually, literally occasionally) and making your day more interesting and it just so happened life had decided this fate for James today. Although, life can at time be a dramatic bitch and begins by building suspense, luring you into a false sense of security right up until the moment it drops a pile of bricks on you, a little like home alone.

So James begin his second perfect morning routine of washing, eating, dressing etc... James was not a precise person, more just a natural creature of habit. His days were usually lived out the same, bus, college, home, sleep and repeat with minor alterations here and there and truth be told he liked it that way. He thought it ensure stability, limited surprises but it also require very little brain power once it is established meaning his mind was freed up to do his second favourite thing, thinking. He adored the human mind and loved to ride his train of thought through every twist and turn. He even found himself pondering the term 'train of thought'. He asked himself, why train? Was it because it had a layed out route? So does a path but a path involves some form of self motion a train carries you away similar to his thoughts. Maybe it was more to do with speed? That may have been the fastest thing then, so are his thoughts now rockets? Or photons? Some thing we'll just never know, but that didn't make thinking about them any less enjoyable.

He sat on the bus looking around at the people with headphones in. He wondered at what point everyone had decided that their lives required backing tracks. That's not to say he hated music or listening to music when out, he indulged in this himself sometimes, it was just interesting to think about. The bus was fairly bare to start with but he knew it would be crowed soon so he sat down newspaper open, legs crossed, tuning out from the universe.