Handlebars and Regrets

Handlebars - by Flobots

I can ride my bike with no handlebars
I can keep rhythm with no metronome
I can see your face on the telephone
I can lead a nation with a microphone
I can split the atoms of a molecule
I can guide a missile by satellite
and I can hit a target through a telescope
and I can end the planet in a holocaust
I can ride my bike with no handlebars


Its pretty obvious what the artist was going for when he wrote the song. It starts innocent but just because we can do something doesn’t mean we should. I’ve been thinking a lot lately which might be obvious by the fact that I just dropped out of college for this semester, or possibly indefinitely…, I know it seems lame but I’ve really been trying to figure out who I am. I am that kid that never sits still, I’m all over the place. In the last year I’ve been coast to coast on this continent, I’ve been to Europe, I lived in Los Angeles for 4 months, and in new jersey for 3months. But am I really just a person who loves adventure and travel? Or is it all a good excuse, a cover for the truth I’m not really trying to hide just avoiding since I don’t really know it myself. I’ve thought a lot about dreams and goals and stuff like that. And I’ve realized I don’t really have any. Most people, I think, if you asked them what they would want to be or do if they could be or do anything probably have an answer. Some are even dedicated to trying to become those things. I have nothing. My goal is to be not what I am. Not really anything in particular just something different. I’ve been trying to think of why that is, and I’ve been remembering a lot of things that happened that made me not want to be who I am. I walked my street where I grew up where my parents still live and I’m currently staying at. It’s the first time I really walked it in a long time. I’ve gone for runs around the block driven up and down it and all, but I was in one of my “deep thot” moods and was trying to remember what it was like when I lived here, like when I was a kid and this was my home home.

I remembered the neighbor across the street wouldn’t answer the door if we went over there for any reason like to sell candy bars when we were kids or whatever other reason.
I remember the next door neighbor wouldn’t speak to us and would purposely snub us.
I remember the other neighbors would complain because we let our grass grow too long and our yard wasn’t landscaped like theirs.
I remember our friend down the street that would play with us but in school she would pretend she didn’t know us, and her parents said we were destructive and disorderly.
I remember the other neighbor yelling at me and threatening to file charges or destruction of property when I peeled some of the bark off of her birch tree.
I remember some guy down the street stopping to tell us something I cant remember but saying something at the end like “I know how it is, my parents didn’t have money when I was young either” as if to somehow be in solidarity with me.
I remember being the only house on the street with a dirt driveway full of holes which were usually mud puddles.
I remember being poor and hating it.
I remember swearing to myself that I would never be like my parents,
I remember planning my escape, plotting to run away, counting down to things like getting my license or turning 18.
I remember hating school because all the kids picked on me and I found nothing but shallow friendship that ended when the other, cooler, kids were around.
I remember being mocked and called gay cuz I wasn’t as perverted and didn’t date as much as the other guys.
I remember the breaking point where I elbowed one kid in the face and then began punching him, and then that night vowing never to return to school.
I remember the countless days and nights of crying and making promises to myself that I’d get out that I’d go somewhere where no one knew me and start over.


And then I did I ran to Pulaski.
And then I ran to college.
And then I ran to my own apartment and alcohol.
And then I ran to Indiana.
And then I ran to a girl.
And then I ran back to Indiana.
Then I ran to LA.
Then I ran to NJ, to kill time before I could run back to Cali.
And now though I knew it was one last run I have run home, I have decided to attempt to deal with the lie I call myself. Not that I’m completely this totally fake person but anything less than the honest truth has to be a lie. And so I submit of few of my own lyrics to the song that aren’t necessarily bad, but again just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should.


I can ride my bike with no handlebars.
I can drown out my thots with loud music.
I can drive my car faster than is intelligent.

I can move to Pulaski to escape my problems.
But lose contact with the few friends I had.
And not even go to my best friends fathers funeral.

I can work overtime at the Eis House.
But lose all the best weekends with friends,
and not go to dinner at my girl friends
grandmothers house who later died of cancer.

I can leave Alfred to escape the pain.
But abandon Mike, Bryan, and Wilson in the process.

I can drink away the memories.
But lose a part of my self and my reputation.

I can cheat on my girlfriend and run away to Indiana to avoid telling her.
But hurt someone so close to me, just to be with a girl who will throw me away.

I can find god in a sermon.
Just to throw away friends by becoming judgmental.

I can continue going to school in Indiana.
But lose contact with even more friends at home,
and become more distant from my family.

I can rock crawl in the badlands.
But I’d rather splash through mud puddles in happy valley with my friends.

I can travel to California for bragging rights.
And leave all my IWU friends, and forget my sister dorm.

I can become enlightened through a course I took for the wrong reasons.
But feel distant from my friends at home who think differently.

I can go for a run.
But its not the same with out my running buddy.

I can ride the bus or metro.
But its not the same without Kendra.

I can chill on top of rooftops in warm Los Angeles.
But I’d rather be in cold parking lots at home with the people I love.

I can walk the boardwalks in Santa Monica.
But I’d rather watch sunsets at Selkirk.

I can cruise down pacific coast highway.
But I’d rather race rob down 41.


I could move to New Jersey and inherit my grandfathers business.
But id rather struggle to create my own dreams and just to survive
here in New York if it means I can be with my friends and family that I love.


Heck I could take classes in Azusa and travel to south America. I could live in a beautiful apartment, with great people. And I could love it so much. I can wear my aviators and dress shirts and eat at “in and outs”, but I don’t think I would be being true to myself. I don’t think I can continue putting my friendships at home and now abroad at risk by living a life of doing what I want to do. I don’t think I can stand having a thousand shallow relationships and a million stories no one was there to remember with me, but having no one close enough to tell my secrets to, and no one to really care or understand me.


And I can run back to New York, where maybe I should have stayed all along to repair what’s left of fading relationships. But now I’ve made so many other friends and found so many people I care about in so many different places, that no matter which place I choose I leave behind someone that matters to me.


And I can do what I feel like I have to,
but leave you behind without even knowing if you feel the same as I do,
and still miss you regardless.


And of course I can ride my bike with no handle bars.