I began this entry yesterday, and left it because it felt a little too "first-world-issues" for me. But after a day of reflection, I've decided to publish it anyway, with a little addendum.
Today began with reading in the editorial section of our local paper that the phrase "We didn't come to paint" is being trademarked by the University of Arkansas Athletic department so they can make t-shirts and assorted schwag with it. Apparently the football coach coined this phrase (or borrowed it from a colleague) in reference to what they (the team) DID come to do (win in ballsy fashion). Apparently painting = not winning. Nice metaphor for our society's dismissal of creativity. And before anyone groans and gives me crap for being overly sensitive and elitist, allow me to assure you that I know that football raises billions of dollars for the university and art, well, doesn't. But seriously, why couldn't he pick on gardening or knitting? Those would work too if we must have another t-shirt.
Ah well, I suppose if that's all I have to worry about today, I'm doing fine, considering that Britain is burning and thousands are starving in Africa.
In other news, and speaking of football, I've become a bit obsessed with Friday Night Lights (thank you, streaming Netflix). In addition to enjoying the soap-operatic dramatics of this tale of Texas football (which in the 2nd season doesn't have much football going on), I've discovered a key to successful TV writing; make like your characters don't have phones. It's WAY more interesting to have a horny teenager knock on a fellow horny teenager's front door to ask the former if she would like to go to the dance with the latter, or to apologize for a fistfight in the cafeteria or some such. These folks could definitely use the phone for these interactions, but a) that's no fun, and b) those characters need the exercise so they can stay chiseled and sexy.
Present day addendum
It rained today, and the temperature has dropped about 25 degrees. It's blissful. I couldn't bring myself to use an umbrella, and I couldn't help but wish for my isolated backyard in NH where I used to run outside in a sports bra and stand in the rain like Tim Robbins in Shawshank Redemption, face tipped up to the water. With the cooler temps, and a few trees that have been baked by the sun, it nearly feels like autumn. Except it's barely August. Weird weather world we live in these days.
I've gotten into the habit of nighttime walks with Sadie since the heat made them a necessity, so tonight, even thought it was a cool evening, we went out late. It was a beautiful, but unsettling night, which seems appropriate for me right now. A bright 2/3 moon, stars, racing clouds and lightening all around, 360 degrees of it, like being in a planetarium. People always say "you could smell the ozone", which never quite makes sense to me (what does ozone smell like, really?), but something in the air frizzed the hell out of my hair and had my senses on edge. I was glad to find my way into the relative safe haven of my house.
Yet at the same time, I wanted to just stand in the middle of it and let whatever was brewing happen in a flash of lightening and smoke at my feet. Maybe it would have revealed something I'm waiting to discover.
Or maybe I'm trying to make my life into a fantasy novel.
Who knows. But the moment has passed. The dog is curled up on the chair, and I'm procrastinating heading to bed, knowing how hard it's been to fall asleep lately.
Time to give it a try. Sweet dreams to all.