I am not book or travel blogging this weekend kids, so if you were waiting for a review of Everything Everything, or some kewl pics from my trip to Dearborn, you will have to wait until Wednesday. I did finish the book and it was gut-wrenching and lovely and perfect, and I did go on my work trip. It was a pretty good three days I think; it could have been a lot better….in my version of the multiverse. I spent the majority of my time reading in my hotel room. But, in the end its work, and it is what it is. Anyhow, that’s not what I want to write about tonight.
This morning, I woke up at 3:45am, brushed my teeth, drank a water, and ate a yogurt. I usually go to the gym, but my spouse has been working out of town for a while now, and this week the kids stayed home with me instead of with the grandparents. I can’t leave these little humans alone; they may set the house on fire. I hate working out at home, because everything feels like a distraction. You lay in the floor and see all the dust on the bottom of the coffee table. You do a wall pushup and see two socks behind the TV that have been missing for six years. Then, what was supposed to be a 45-minute workout, turns into a 30-minute psycho cleaning session. Anyhow, I got the kids ready for school, got myself ready, minus the makeup, because that would have taken an extra 10 minutes. So I went to work all natty light. I dropped the kids off at the bus stop, drove to work and sat there fighting “fires” all day. I got off work, came home and cooked dinner for my kids, and ate a half a piece of pizza, because that’s all that was left by the time they ate, and that’s what us parents do; we scavenge the remains on the plate, like a damn buzzard. Clean the dishes, throw some laundry in, change into comfy clothes and spend the rest of the night in my bed, in a book, writing, or paroozing the interwebs, or hell all three.
I’ve got a pretty great life I think for now. It’s not always filled with thrills and variety, but it’s my life. On the weekends I enjoy movies and junk food, and writing, like right here, right now. Writing has been giving me back some life of late, that and books of course. I have always loved them both, but in the past I lacked the inspiration I needed to write anything I was willing to put out there; the muse. Now though, it seems to be there, or I just don’t give two shits if anyone likes what I have to say. I am allowed to say it. I don’t have tons of time to write right now, like I did in the winter. This time of year is full of baseball and softball practices and games, but I am okay with that, because of all the added perks.
Anyhow, all this stuff, it’s pretty mundane. Some might call it cliché, but what is life if it isn’t this? The idea that in adulthood, we all basically melt into a rotten mire of predictability, is a such a sad one, but that’s how we were raised up. Kids this is how it’s done. You grow up, get married, have kids, live your life for other people, then eventually you get your life back for just a bit (long enough to make you thirsty for more)….that is until your kids have kids, then you are the babysitter until you die. Maybe that’s what folks that feel they are in such unrest need, and damn boatload of grandkids? That’s a hard pass for me……a very, hard pass. I say take an interest in something worthwhile. Draw, paint, write poetry, write books, work with your hands, travel, take a walk by yourself, take a walk with someone you love, or talk to someone who matters (I like this one myself). Don’t tell your kids to settle for “the plan”, also, don’t you settle for “the plan”. Make your own plan. I have my own, for one day…
I read this article from BBC today, http://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-44129714, and it was all “spacey” like I like it, but there was a part that struck me as really wonderful, and I love it. The whole article was about The Big Bang Theory and Supernovas and stars, but this quote was more relevant to this I think, this idea of being born in to a stagnant life, and waiting for that pivotal moment, and “circling the mountain” instead of climbing it, and maybe figuring out what that mountain even is before you burst into nothingness of death.
“The calcium in our bones, the phosphorus in our DNA and the iron in our blood comes from successive generations of stars that seeded the cosmic environment when they went supernova and exploded at the end of their lives.”
There is something so beautiful about the death of a star, and how the death of this absolutely stunning ball of exploding gas, could possibly form something as insignificant as me. Oh, but it’s so wonderful to think about. All those gases and heat just compressing and decompressing over millions of years, and finally it all just explodes into this gorgeous mass of death. Death is certainly not beautiful here on earth. But the leading up to it is what is beautiful, I think. The moments of the love, the hate, the anger, or the lust, the sun or the moon, the day or the night, the life you are living or the life you live that nobody knows about, who you are or who you pretend to be, the muck and the mire, and all those small moments when the words got caught in your throat because that’s how much it all meant to you. All that stuff, it leads us to the end of our life cycle, and I believe that the end of this story is what will give everything else validity.
This picture is a colorized shot of Cassiopeia, a remnant of a supernova. The very middle of the picture is the dead part of the star. Around the dead part, is a shell of beautiful material that has been blasted away from the star as it died, all the parts of the star. Carl Sagan said it best when he said that we are all made of star stuff; and I believe it.
God, I want to be this beautiful. I want to be as beautiful as Cassiopeia when I die, and all the "stuff" around me be the beautifully broken remnants of the life I chose to live, not the life I was told to live.