Crappy, crappy day

So today has just plain sucked. Period. I don't think elaborating will sound anything less than whining, but whine I shall. Got up in a foul mood in the first place, and even though I didn't have class this morning, I was still pissed off because I didn't get paid, and there is no news of my possible job yet.

It being the first nice day we've had in awhile as far is the weather is concerned, I thought I might go for a lovely bike ride. The other day, just when I got my bike working perfectly, a spoke on the brand new back wheel broke. So this morning I fixed it, also discovering that the cassette is making a grinding noise when the freewheel is engaged, and that the tire and rim are, after close inspection, tubeless. This means instead of a tube inside the tire, the tire is just one big, thick tube that is glued to the rim and more expensive/a hassle to replace if you put a hole in it. This is my own damn fault and I kicked myself for it, but changed out the spoke anyway and decided to just ride.

When I ride, normally, it takes everything that is wrong with the world and makes me forget it. Biking is my salvation. Today, though, after fixing a spoke on the back wheel and riding down to the beach, I broke yet another spoke on the fucking front wheel. Yes, another one. Riding along at a slow pace. That's two in two days. Why the hell can my bike not just work like it's supposed to? When the thing you use to relieve all of the stress and problems in your life is a constant source of consternation, what do you do then?

On top of it I feel all emo and alone and ugly. It is one of those days where I look in the mirror and see something resembling a monkey more than a human being. Not one of those more simian chimpanzees, but rather an organgutan that is considered ugly even by other orangutans.

Usually when I feel bad about what happens to me and who I am, I try to reflect on the problems other people have in the world that are worse than mine. Like poverty and motherless children and people with cancer and such. Today, it hasn't helped. At all. Nothing has. Or will, seemingly. It's just made me feel guilty that I'm not happy being well-fed, American and privileged. The only midly bright thing that happened today was that there was a couple of good lines I found in Walt Whitman's "Leaves of Grass". I might post them tomorrow when I'm feeling less sorry for myself.