Change and the lack there

It snowed finally, and I'm sure every blogger in the Salt Lake county is rejoicing in the juvenile thought of actual sustainable snow on the ground. I am not disappointed with the start of my week despite the hour and fifteen minute wait I had after my work out at the bus stop.
Tonight: I called A for a ride back home at the excruciatingly bitter hour and fourteen minute mark and after we hung up on the phone, 3 Red and Blue buses pulled out of nowhere. Maybe Satan's ass. But thats besides the point. I reacquainted myself with the white out that kept me company until A's summer tire wielding go-cart pulled into the parking lot to pick me up. I was famished by 830 and we decided to hit up Cafe Rio on 4th or 5th, whichever it is. Even after living here for 4 months I still can't get it right. One pork enchilada and a bowl of torilla soup. Power up! Went back home, showered, got dressed, and danned it up.

You know how forcing change is unthinkable and impossible? Well, tonight made me realize that it really is impossible and artistic people are never going to change. Even to benefit themselves. Originality is key and it won't be sacrificed if they come an inch closer to the norm. I used to be eager and expected the mutual respect, but after meeting different creatures shapes and sizes, I couldn't care less. I saw someone that I hadn't seen since I blew up at him nearly a year and a half ago. What can you do? Grow up, meet new people, date new people, forget old people. My memory bank has been reaching maximum capacity and he'd grown a distant file in the back of my mind. I don't enjoy surrounding myself with condescending fools who feel that to conceal their real inner being, they have to shoot others down// he won't change // not now, not ever // I can't help but shake my head at the similarity between him and "Justin Bobby" from The Hills. Yeah, I just made reference to an MTV show that rakes more viewers than I can believe. I hardly react when I don't get a response and I think thats the way it should have been from the start. He's a good friend, but what it used to be tore me up like the raw ingredients before making a smoothie in a blender. JB and I will run into each other in a few years, and it'll be the same as it always was. Cool, calm, way too cool, and too calm to care. I can just sit back and laugh at my naivety in the past because I was sixteen once and a dumb one at that. Naturally, he goes back east for a month. Then to California. No point in crying over spilled milk. It should be a lot easier saying bye this time.