Tomorrow night I fly off to the east coast to celebrate my parent’s 60th wedding anniversary. They have no idea that I’m coming and I’m only there until Wednesday morning. As the zero hour approaches my stress threatens to increase accordingly. I don’t have much time while I’m there and that will be split between my parents and my friend Tim. I already feel like I’m being pulled in two directions and I’m not even there yet. I’m trying to put the whole trip out of my mind and concentrate on the little things, like cutting Justin’s fingernails, and feeding him lunch. While on the trip I’ll deal with the pressure of a family visit by depending on those things which have kept me sane most of my life: my books and music. I’m lucky enough to have an 80G iPod, so I pretty much have anything I may be in the mood to listen to contained in the little piece of technology. I’m also reading an excellent book by Carl Sagan, a boyhood hero of mine, called The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark. I struggled for a few days to pick a book that I would probably be in the middle of reading on my departing flight, and I realized that rather than fiction I needed to fill my head with some truth. Cosmos, Sagan’s television series from the 1970s, was a great inspiration to me and I’m embarrassed to admit that this is the first nonfiction book that I have read by him. (I previously read his novel Contact, which was quite good and was made into one of my favorite films.) Part of the problem with spending anytime back in Massachusetts are all of the reminders of why I left in the first place. There is not anybody back there that can truly relate to, or is interested in, my interests and passions. I end up being the listening ear to everyone else’s interests and passions and that’s the way it has always been.
Well, now it technically is the day I’m flying to the east coast, so I better get my ass off to bed. I wasted the evening watching 28 Weeks Later, which was a horrible sequel to one of my favorite horror films of recent years. The story was ridiculous and after an hour I kept hitting the display button on my remote to see how much time was left. I nearly stopped watching, because I knew it was just going to get worse. With lines like “Oh man, this is F.U.B.A.R.!” and “I’m okay, it’s only a flesh wound” one might think that the screenwriters were trying to be funny. Danny Boyle and Alex Garland should be ashamed for having their names associated with this film in any way. Ugh!