I'm with ya, Ed

Ed Kennedy comments on how "non-partisan" the two new Supreme Court justices really are in this opinion piece from the Washington Post.

A blog post from Kim, 15 years later

I'll probably write something like this someday; replace "singer" with "composer" and there you have it.

http://saintpaulsunday.publicradio.org/features/0201_horne/crane.shtml

Theatre and the sky

On Friday night I went ot a performance of a musical put on by Mount Vernon Community theatre. My friend Braeden had a lead role, so I made the drive to the small town high school where they were performing "Pippin". I was so impressed by my friend, a natural comic.

I'd never seen the play before, and it was weird as hell; the plot revolves around a guy who's trying to find the meaning of his life, wanting to do something amazing and extraordinary. He tries being a patriot, a rebel, a leader, a hedonist, and a family man, each of which he rejects. Eventually he decides that simplicity is best, and returns to the family.

It's no surprise that a play like this would be the choice of a small-town community theatre. Braeden and her husband met in New York, where they were trying to become professional actors. They came back to Iowa, to settle down and raise kids. And if you're going to settle down in a small town, Mount Vernon is truly ideal - its proximity to the University gives it the best of both worlds - a simple, yet open-minded place, with community spirit and worldly knowledge.

As I walked out of the theatre, I wondered if my search for meaning was as ridiculous as Pippin's. Maybe I need to make compromises, settle down in a town just like this one. I drove home, listening to a song on the country station. It was one of my favorites, a song about a girl who's writing home while she's trying to become a famous singer. The song suggests the opposite philosophy from that of the play, that being away from home and trying to do something extraordinary has a nobility of its own.

I was singing along with all my might, and I noticed how bright the stars seemed to be out there between the towns. Man, if I stopped, I thought, I bet there would be a great view. I turned down a gravel road, parked my car along the side, radio still blaring. I figured I would see a might see a few constellations, maybe a shooting star. I threw on the hazards, jumped out of the car, walked out into the road, and looked up.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit."

I had seen the Milky Way once before, a gentle haze in the North Carolina sky, when I went to the observatory with my astronomy class. But I had never seen anything like this. Trillions of stars, the Milky Way so close I could touch it, and a horizon so low that the sky seemed to stretch both outwards and upwards. The breadth of the picture; the sheer scope of the universe absolutely blew me away. Familiar constellations were filled in, in ways I hadn't even imagined. Each star seemed to have multiplied; thousands stood where singles had been moments before. Had I just that day told Braeden "You're such a star"? How could I have compared a small-town actress, or anyone, for that matter, to one of these?

We spend so much time tryng to figure out who and what we should be, where we should go, and who we should go there with. We even spend a lot of time figuring out HOW to find that right path, seeking different philopsophies with varying degrees of randomness, moral heavy-handedness, and predestination. We forget how lucky we are to be here, to be anywhere at all.

Which path should we choose to lead us to the right path? It's good to search and seek and hope and dream.

But sometimes, you just get lucky.

Home, and leaving

I had one of those "I'm such a screw-up" moments the other day at a gas station at Cedar Rapids, when the 14-year-old counter clerk held me hostage because my debit card wouldn't work. I didn't have any cash, either, and my other credit card is over the limit. I felt pretty panicky. Luckily a friend gave me a credit card number over the cell phone (just barely, before the charge gave out), and I escaped Quik-Stop prison.
Times like those make you feel like a big old loser - when you don't have anything material to show for the life lessons you've gained, and the emotional (if not neccessarily financial) maturity you've attained. I've been in Iowa for a year, and I'm about to be called into the police as a drive-off by a high school kid. That makes ya feel good.
But this morning I went to church, where all the old ladies (and some younger people too) have started to recognize me. One of them has made it her mission to remember my name, even though I'm so shy I never really speak to her. It kinda throws me off when she says it, because I have no idea who she is. In our modern world, we get so isolated, that we get used to isolation - a small town church is kind of a wake-up call to people like me who spend a lot of time on the internet talking to people from other places, and dreaming of past events and such. Small-town life is very here and now.
And then I went shopping with a new friend I've made, and I realized - hey, for one year in a new place, I haven't done so bad. I haven't gone psychotic, and I've even been dancing. And the financial troubles mostly stem from a lot of job switching, which I think for the most part has been neccessary and prudent - just problematic when it comes to having insurance and vacation and stuff. But what's insurance compared to friends and little old ladies at hip liberal churches that know your name? What's vacation time compared to an open mind?

Moving for apparently no reason to a new town: $200 in gas, occasional joblessness and poor credit
Living life on your own terms: priceless