Little Boxes Made of Ticky-Tacky

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,
Little boxes, little boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All go to the university,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.

This is the theme song to my favorite TV show right now -- "Weeds".

I've been singing it throughout quite a few of my days because I watch one episode on Netflix Instant Viewing every night.

On a bike ride the other day, I started humming this song and thinking about the lyrics.

I live in a cramped, little apartment -- a box. Then I go to work in an office -- it's a box. Some nights I go to restaurants and they are pretty much -- boxes!

So on this bike ride, I realize that being outside is really the only time we are not in a box.

But even then we fit into a box. Our profession or job puts in a box. Our name or color of our skin can put us into a box.

When we stay in our boxes, "we all look just the same."

When we jump out of the boxes, we find our uniqueness. When I think outside of the box, I have my best ideas. When I'm outside running or biking, I feel alive.

Maybe it's because I'm not made out of ticky-tacky when I'm outside.

---

I'm really excited for this weekend.

I'm going to a Keane concert in a box called Myth. Saturday I'm eating sushi in a box called Sushi Tango.

At least they aren't the same old boxes...

Enjoy the ride,
Damm