Wed, 21 Apr 2004


one moment in time

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Great. Now that Whitney Houston song is in my head.

In the final stretch driving last night, alone under the comforting blanket of night, my mind started wandering.

The iPod is a wonderful toy. It turns what would otherwise be an unbearable long-distance drive into your own personal Odyssey complete with soundtrack. I will try to trace which songs exactly infiltrated my mind, but I came up with these vague ideas as I drove and rocked-out:

  1. Was ten years of emotional torture—of failing to live up to expectations, of taking wrong turns and riding up the curb, of not knowing where I was going— worth this single moment driving at 80 mph down a lonely Interstate highway, happy not necessarily of where I've been, or where I'm going, but simply because of where I am (er, or was? This is where the past pluperfect tense comes in handy, doesn't it? I wish I paid attention when they were teaching English grammar…)
    As the music blasted, and the highway thrummed underneath me, the green milemarkers flicking past with reflected light, I answered yes to the universe
    That was it. That was my peak. In that single moment of time, everything was perfect.
    And now I understand. These moments of sheer joy are not meant to be bottled up, like rain water to be carried for the journey through the vast desert of pain and disaster. There is no surety in happiness, no such thing as insurance for contentment. These moments exist only in that brief time and space, though perhaps lingering vaguely as a memory. Like a happy dream, maybe. When you wake, you know it's gone, but at least you know that, in some way, it really was real.
  2. Was three months of playing games—tricks of the heart and other deceits of the flesh—followed by three more months of heartache, depression, bouts of pounding my head against the wall, and otherwise total and complete failure to function as a human being—was this price worth one good song?
    What can I say? Women will break your heart and leave you weeping, cold and alone, but a song can warm the heart even in the deepest, darkest pit.

Feh. This time of transition. The future is never guaranteed, but it's always nice to at least be holding a boarding pass.

P.S. Sorry R, don't know why my comments are broken. Oh, wait. Actually, maybe I do. Not the why, but the how. I'll have to dig into the code when I'm no longer on the road.

22:16:18 21 Apr 2004 > > permalink > 0 comments


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