Are Things Any Different?

A little bit. I've taken some of the confusion I was feeling and codified it, compartmentalized it. I've turned it into motivation. I have a vague plan that may not be a plan at all, but it doesn't engage for another five months anyways, so it's nothing I have to deal with right now... and more importantly, I'm figuring in five months none of it will seem like the big deal it seems now. That's kind of key. If I don't care one way or the other about the outcome, I won't be disappointed. At the moment, I am still spinning... not helped a lot by the news that one of my cousins is gravely ill. As Mike O'Meara said this week, "We're all in the on-deck circle now." The next six weeks for me are insane... and then, hopefully, things settle down and I get a bit of a breather. Here's a picture of Newmarket... back when I had NO idea.

A little time off....

Been working pretty much seven days a week since mid-January. Upon quittin' time tonight I will have 4 straight days off. Looking forward to it. I have a lot on my to-do list... and I want to see the Star Wars movie. My head has been spinning a lot the past three weeks with almost-obsessive thoughts of things that happened a LONG time ago - like 35 years ago. Not really sure what to do about it. I might do nothing. I might do something. My friends have interesting advice. Here's a picture of Falmouth Heights.

So Nancy Reagan has died.

Can't say I was ever a fan, though I didn't hate the woman either. I know of people who have this seething hatred for the Reagans. I always had a more pragmatic view of them. Sometimes you have to give the junkie a fix, and Wall Street needed Reaganomics in 1980. Four years of Reagan would have been fine. Eight years was a big mistake. What Reagan knew back then was what Trump knows today - how to sell snake oil. He and his crew played the People like there was no tomorrow, and Nancy played her role in all of that perfectly. It could have been easy to dislike her. She had an imperious air about her. She came across as a supercilious phony. She was brittle and more than a little snobbish, and, based on a lot of widespread tales from her early life, she hadn't really earned any of that attitude. And the whole weird astrology thing.  But my sister was a nurse at DC's Children's Hospital at the time, and she said Nancy Reagan used to come in and visit the sick kids, and on those occasions, she was genuine and very likable... so I am inclined to give her a pass. Plus - the photos with Mr. T.

Anyways....  safe home, Mrs. Reagan. We could have done better. But we probably could have done worse.

Who You Jivin' with that Cosmic Debris?

The late 80's, for me, were typified by one particular day in May.... and for some reason I keep going back to it in my head. I think because what I was feeling at the time - sudden upheaval in my family, the bottom dropping out in so many ways, and no real idea of how to move forward - was encapsulated in one afternoon that came at me straight out of negative space. I'd been taking classes at a hot, stuffy, cavernous building in Hopkinton. Some sort of insurance classes - like that was going to fix anything... though I guess it was better than nothing at that point. And the final hours of the final day of this particular session of classes seemed to drag on for ever. When class finally ended, I walked out to my Jeep.  I said a quick goodbye to my classmate, Bernadette, and got in the Jeep - top down, nice day, no obligations for a few hours. I should have felt great, but all I felt was this gray deadness. Hopkinton seemed weirdly deserted. The air was heavy and still. I played a cassette someone had given me. Some guy named Charlie Peacock. The music was a little one-dimensional and none of it held together that well. If cellphones had existed at the time it would have been a perfect time to call friends and find a bar, but that sort of connectivity hadn't entered our lives yet. It's thirty years later, but I will never forget the feeling I had that afternoon. Couldn't shake it. I think when Steven King writes about the deadness of the out-of-time Bangor Airport in The Langoliers he was unknowingly talking about that afternoon in Hopkinton.

Picking up where we left off....

So almost ten years ago I thought this blog would be a good idea for hashing out some plans, philosophies, observations... all that stuff. And then, of course, I promptly abandoned it. But one of my resolutions for this year has been to get my old blogs up and running again.... so here goes. I have a few free minutes here at work, so time to bang out an update.

Ten years later.... what have we learned? Turns out, not so much. I think I am wiser, a bit. I am older. definitely more than just a bit. I'm probably the same level of cynical. But I am a little bit calmer, less angry, less trusting too, though.

What do I want to be when I grow up? Still haven't figured that one out yet. Probably an astronaut. Maybe a rock star. In the meantime, I remain a news producer at a mid-market TV station. And I am also teaching TV production at a local college. There's an old saying about fewer years in front of the horse than behind, in the back of the cart. I'm very much feeling that lately. Brooding about it.

March is here and Spring won't be far behind. I look forward to it. Each successive winter takes more and more out of you. I look forward to the bright green of the new leaves on the trees.