March 11th, 2010


Can I Take a Moment To Get a Hell Yeah?

Last night I watched a movie where our hero had to protect a scientist who happened to be a really attractive young woman. Our hero said something along the lines of "You could be a model, why would a lady like you want to study bugs?"

We all laughed, but then I realized that one of friends, someone who really could be a model, is a young, attaractive woman who studies bugs. It really isn't that unrealistic after all. Or maybe I'm living an unrealistic life.

If I were to write my life as a novel, it would seem unrealistic. Not only are the situations I get into bordering on the fantastic (slipping often into magical realism) but my friends, my circle, they are far too talented, far too interesting, far too witty. The dialogue over here is crisp - the comedy hilarious, the situations outrageous, the drama, well, the drama is heartbreaking.

From the actor who danced with me like it was the last night of the world, to the punk rock musician who fights with an army, to the photographer who tells the stories of the storytellers to the editors and the revolutionaries and the writers, oh, god, the brilliant writers, to the teachers and the artists and the fighters who are lovers and the lovers who are fighters and the crafters and the singers and the creators and the organizers and the travelers and the engineers and the gamers and the painters and the publishers and the parents and the doctors and the fans and the librarian who refused to give up on civil liberties and the filmmakers who max out everything to make something amazing and the heart-breakers and the super scientists and the designers.

I am quietly living a glorious life.