Stop, John Mayer. Just Stop.


A trail of ruby red and diamond white

Hits her like a sunrise…

–John Mayer, “Neon”

Sometimes I think about this line while I sit in bumper to bumper traffic, especially at midnight on the 405, when they close all but one lane for construction.  It really is a beautiful line in a beautiful song.  You know what isn’t beautiful?  TRAFFIC.  I am sick to death of L.A. traffic.  I’m sorry, I know I should just buck up, I know I should be thankful that I have an hour every morning to listen to podcasts by Erwin McManus, God bless his brilliant soul; and an hour every afternoon to catch up on phone calls: “Hey it’s Joy!  Remember, we met at camp three years ago?  I’m just sitting in traffic and wanted to talk to someone…”  But you know what?  Traffic still makes me a grumpy whiner.  Sorry.  So John Mayer, you’re wonderful and dreamy and talented and blah-di-blah; you can glamorize breakups, broken father-daughter relationships, and Newton’s laws, but I ain’t buying traffic like a sunrise.


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