My answer is much simpler than 42
So this is my first livejournal entry. I'm a writer, or supposed to be, and yet I have very little to say. It's August, the Muse is on vacation, and I just started working at 7-11 so I'm feeling less than gifted. I'm not saying I let jobs define me, but when I looked in the mirror the other day and saw my face with the "7-Eleven" logo right below it, reality kinda sank in and my heart sank with it. Oh well. I have goals, dammit. More importantly, I have bills.
So right now, the somewhat humorous and less-than-glamorous details of my life? I work at yet another gas station, my dog is in Oregon, as is my Subaru (which needs a new transmission), I live in a basement, and I have neither a computer nor a DVD player nor a cell phone. But I have to keep future things in mind. Things like being an assistant professor in the fall (I know, I talk about it way too much), places I want to travel next summer (Cape Cod to see my mom and sister, Orcas Island, and--hopefully--India), getting my car fixed up and being able to hike in the mountains again, and eventually affording a place where I can adopt many dogs. Meanwhile, as I tantalize myself with future possibilities, I have to keep looking for those little moments in-between the drama and details--moments like sitting around in the backyard with friends, drinking beer; or trying a new-to-me kind of cheese; or noticing a snake in your path and walking around it; or watching light play on the water in the dirty canal; or just feeling the breeze (of which there is plenty in Ellensburg). I know, gag me with a spoon, but it's the truth--life happens in between the details. For everybody. However much money or stability or success you have. (As John Lennon said, life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans. It's not a new thought.)
Ugh, I'm getting all existentialist again. It's one of the the side effects of being Jessi. But this is my first entry, as I said, so it seems fitting to make some grand statement about the Meaning-Of-It-All. And here's where the title of this blog comes in, because in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Series, the "answer" to Life, the Universe, and Everything was "42"--if only people had thought to ask what the question should be. Which was Douglas Adams' subtle poke at grand-scheme existentialist thinking, because really most of us can barely handle the details of everyday, and have no business worrying about the Universe at Large. When it comes down to it, each of us IS the Universe.
I stayed in bed this morning until the afternoon, first reading Terry Pratchett's "The Wee Free Men" (VERY FUNNY plus involves little people, and I always love a story involving little people--I was a fan of "The Littles" when I was a kid; now I collect gnome paraphernalia) and finishing the second Castaneda book. Another amusing thing today: I'm listening to Pandora and just heard a Cake rendition of "Guitar Man" by Bread. To think that somebody else knows who Bread is, and covered one of their cheesiest songs and made it awesome.
So right now, the somewhat humorous and less-than-glamorous details of my life? I work at yet another gas station, my dog is in Oregon, as is my Subaru (which needs a new transmission), I live in a basement, and I have neither a computer nor a DVD player nor a cell phone. But I have to keep future things in mind. Things like being an assistant professor in the fall (I know, I talk about it way too much), places I want to travel next summer (Cape Cod to see my mom and sister, Orcas Island, and--hopefully--India), getting my car fixed up and being able to hike in the mountains again, and eventually affording a place where I can adopt many dogs. Meanwhile, as I tantalize myself with future possibilities, I have to keep looking for those little moments in-between the drama and details--moments like sitting around in the backyard with friends, drinking beer; or trying a new-to-me kind of cheese; or noticing a snake in your path and walking around it; or watching light play on the water in the dirty canal; or just feeling the breeze (of which there is plenty in Ellensburg). I know, gag me with a spoon, but it's the truth--life happens in between the details. For everybody. However much money or stability or success you have. (As John Lennon said, life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans. It's not a new thought.)
Ugh, I'm getting all existentialist again. It's one of the the side effects of being Jessi. But this is my first entry, as I said, so it seems fitting to make some grand statement about the Meaning-Of-It-All. And here's where the title of this blog comes in, because in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Series, the "answer" to Life, the Universe, and Everything was "42"--if only people had thought to ask what the question should be. Which was Douglas Adams' subtle poke at grand-scheme existentialist thinking, because really most of us can barely handle the details of everyday, and have no business worrying about the Universe at Large. When it comes down to it, each of us IS the Universe.
I stayed in bed this morning until the afternoon, first reading Terry Pratchett's "The Wee Free Men" (VERY FUNNY plus involves little people, and I always love a story involving little people--I was a fan of "The Littles" when I was a kid; now I collect gnome paraphernalia) and finishing the second Castaneda book. Another amusing thing today: I'm listening to Pandora and just heard a Cake rendition of "Guitar Man" by Bread. To think that somebody else knows who Bread is, and covered one of their cheesiest songs and made it awesome.