Pushing in a Foreign Language

Yesterday I posted a song that is one of the most inspiring tunes i know. It's more than forty years old, but it's so fresh that it makes me want to jump up and do something amazing. I had heard it a few times before, but I remember really listening to it in the basement of my back-then best friend's parents' place about ten years ago. Especially when it comes to skateboarding it really gets me out of my chair and into my skatepants. Sure, for the obvious reason that it's a song from one of the most bestest skateboard videos of all time, but also because it's just pure freshness.

Today I wanted to work on a translation that I keep putting off with the due date coming closer and closer. I had my playlist on random and the translation file open. And then it happened. First my fingers on the keyboard were pretending to know how to play the piano, but all I fabricated was saldkslaldflksksalskdfjsa, then came the drums and my feet pretended to know how to kick and snare, but all I did was warming up my ankles, because when Stevie started singing I got up and changed into some skate clothes, grabbed my board and went out. 

The street is too rough to push, but the gingerly perforated sidewalk is alright. The first couple of meters I have to walk, because there's an old lady sitting on the blue wooden bench in front of the local community center. I give her a smile, walk past her and want to throw my board under my foot, just when a rusty grandpa appears from behind the big tree by the bus stop, so I walk past him as well and make sure there's noone else around who I might scare to salvation. I made it far away from the two elderlies and the sidewalk ahead of me is clear, and so is my conscious. 

Finally, I take one two three quick steps and my right foot is ready for action, waiting for my righthand thumb to release the pressure that holds the nose of my board to the other four fingers of my now relaxed hand. My right foot slyly finds its way to its spot, right where the bolts of the front truck are looking up into the blue sky. Another split second of silence and the wheels are touching the ground, producing the most beautiful sound since Stevie Wonder started singing. I take a deep breath, another strong push and listen to my board speaking in a British accent.