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Sep. 20th, 2010 12:12 pmThree weeks since my last post!
Let's see:
I went to see Rush play at the Boston Garden (or whatever it's called right now) last Tuesday with M, MAMEd, J my old OP partner, and C. M and I gave the others tickets as birthday gifts (we all turned 40 this year.) It was a great show. The guys can still rock it, still have fun playing together, and have learned how to add goofy fun to their concerts, with some hilarious video intros that featured them all as various characters, including Alex in an absurdly huge fat suit. And they played Moving Pictures all the way through. It's better than I remembered.
Listening to songs I haven't heard in years, like Time Stand Still or Marathon, which I listened to constantly when I was a teenager/college student, while there to mark my old friends and I transitioning into middle age, made me cry. I'm not sure how to describe the feelings that made me do so; there was some regret, some relief, some nostalgia, even some optimism. I'm happier and more myself than I ever was a teenager. I'm also much closer to who I was 20 years ago than my friends who all have kids, and have coped with a child dying, bitter divorce, the drive to college, and who lot more. It's not that I can't talk to them, or feel close to them, or something bad like that. It's more that each of them made a deep commitment to someone else, and have thereby shaped a kind of identity, that I have not. That may be beyond me, really.
I may be middle aged, but I'm still somehow clinging to the security of having lots of options, of not being tided to one thing or another, even though I'm increasingly dissatisfied with not being part of anything, of having little impact on the world around me, and not being sure that I want to stay where I do have some roots.
I read Craig Ferguson's memoir American On Purpose, and there was a bit where he talked about choosing a life of adventure over safety, about embracing the mess he'd made of his life, and moving forward more purposefully. I found it resonated with me. I have built a safe, hobbit hole of a life from 2002 to 2009, and now in 2010 I'm starting to pull it apart, and I have no idea how far I shall go.
But, for now, I must stop writing and go mind the store.
P.S. Random 'how cool is that?' link.
Let's see:
I went to see Rush play at the Boston Garden (or whatever it's called right now) last Tuesday with M, MAMEd, J my old OP partner, and C. M and I gave the others tickets as birthday gifts (we all turned 40 this year.) It was a great show. The guys can still rock it, still have fun playing together, and have learned how to add goofy fun to their concerts, with some hilarious video intros that featured them all as various characters, including Alex in an absurdly huge fat suit. And they played Moving Pictures all the way through. It's better than I remembered.
Listening to songs I haven't heard in years, like Time Stand Still or Marathon, which I listened to constantly when I was a teenager/college student, while there to mark my old friends and I transitioning into middle age, made me cry. I'm not sure how to describe the feelings that made me do so; there was some regret, some relief, some nostalgia, even some optimism. I'm happier and more myself than I ever was a teenager. I'm also much closer to who I was 20 years ago than my friends who all have kids, and have coped with a child dying, bitter divorce, the drive to college, and who lot more. It's not that I can't talk to them, or feel close to them, or something bad like that. It's more that each of them made a deep commitment to someone else, and have thereby shaped a kind of identity, that I have not. That may be beyond me, really.
I may be middle aged, but I'm still somehow clinging to the security of having lots of options, of not being tided to one thing or another, even though I'm increasingly dissatisfied with not being part of anything, of having little impact on the world around me, and not being sure that I want to stay where I do have some roots.
I read Craig Ferguson's memoir American On Purpose, and there was a bit where he talked about choosing a life of adventure over safety, about embracing the mess he'd made of his life, and moving forward more purposefully. I found it resonated with me. I have built a safe, hobbit hole of a life from 2002 to 2009, and now in 2010 I'm starting to pull it apart, and I have no idea how far I shall go.
But, for now, I must stop writing and go mind the store.
P.S. Random 'how cool is that?' link.
