I Just Long for a Bungalow, Part II

If a boat hits submerged debris, what sound does it make? Ever find yourself pondering such questions? It'll happen when you start working on sound for a theatre production. I can hear it in my head. I just haven't been able to recreate it as of yet. And that is slightly annoying to me.

Oh the things I have to do in the next few weeks. And wow, the amount of time I don't have to do them. I'm even typing slow right now. I can feel it. It's probably the summer cold I'm inefficiently battling. This cough is torturous. Isn't it amazing how something so small like a germ or microbe or virus can do such monumental damage to us? Sometimes the tiniest things can cause huge shifts in things not so small. Are we really that frail? Don't answer that question.

Tonight I find myself longing for a vacation. In a bungalow. Somewhere new. Not "new" in a just appeared on the map, popped into existence, kind of way... but new. Somewhere I haven't been yet. Colorado comes to mind. As does Ireland. The former would be easier to reach at this point. Though neither are known for bungalows and both are just far enough away in the realm of possibility that I will have to be content to live these next few weeks going places in my head. Though, realistically, I don't even have time for that.

...And I've completely lost the ability to post with any actual purpose. Shouldn't be so hard. There are things in this world to discuss. Critical things. Mundane things. I know... I'll check out Lizza's blog and see what's up for Manic Monday... since it's already Monday morning in her part of the world.

...

Oh the humanity. Her blog is still sitting on Saturday. But, bright side... this blog was among those she highlighted in her Blog World Saturday this past weekend. Sweet. Thanks, Lizza! It's always fun to check out her weekly recommendations and see what posts have caught her eye from week to week. It's amazing the people you meet this way. And I have to forgive her delay in updating because she's probably voraciously catching up on Heroes as I type this, and for that I cannot fault her.

A terrific show. I won't spend time raving or anything beyond that. If you've never watched it, NBC will give you every opportunity to jump on the bandwagon. But now my thoughts turn to heroes in general and those we might have in our own lives in the real world. The ones that don't fly. That don't time-travel or regenerate. But somehow, they are the people who inspire us and protect us or perhaps just teach us and make sure that we have what we need to survive in this world.

It's actually a coincidence that I stumbled upon Lizza's post about heroes tonight, which is Father's Day in the States. But I would be less than respectful if I didn't mention how awesome my dad has been to me. Sure, there are times when I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing and don't need the dad lecture that I'm oft to receive (even at my age), but all in all, he only looks out for me. And I appreciate it. I probably don't say that enough to him. One of the drawbacks of being insanely busy and over-involved with everything is that the family takes a backseat sometimes. A lot really. And every year I say I'm going to make more time for them.

And we're back to the time issue. Or the lack thereof. It's a nice night. What I'd like to do is go for a drive. Cruise around and take in the evening. Got my dad's truck for the weekend (lent the folks my car for a roadtrip they decided to take this weekend). I should check the weather. Have the insane urge to throw some blankets in the bed, drive out to where the city disappears and sleep under the stars.

To stare at the heavens and ask what's life. A magazine. What's it cost? Ten cents. That's cheap. That's life. Not my words, but fun ones to say. I like looking to the universe for perspective (and for my dreams). For all at the same time I am reminded that I am a tiny, tiny, force in a great awesome thing we call existence. And then I cough and remember how powerful I am really am.