Rocket Science

27 02 2008

I watched a movie called Rocket Science, and at the end, this was approximately said: “One day, you stop trying to figure it out, and you’re just grateful for what you’ve got.”

I’ve been walking that line for a year or so now–trying to decide how long is long enough to devote to thinking/wondering about the so-called big questions. At some point, you’re supposed to settle in to a “normal” life and just feel at home with it all, I think.

I think scientists get it both ways. They get to work on figuring out the universe in their generally narrow ways but aren’t stuck with the stigma of not being adult enough. Dudes like me with normal jobs are wasting their time if they’re not working to advance in the workplace, and prefer to research, as confirmed dilettantes, all the things they find mysterious and interesting about the world in their spare time. Some people go to grad school to further their time on these thoughts, but man, if I were paying for this, I’d be feeling pretty ripped off.

I’m kind of driven by that kind of wondering, though, by thinking about the largely unexplored human potential, though there is a lot I allow to get in the way. Others giggled, but I was jealous when a friend, Richard, who’s getting his Ph.D. at Austin said “It’s wonderful. I get paid to think about beautiful things all day.”

How difficult it is to continue the daily work of friendships and general life maintenance while scheming and enacting ways to get to the bottom of it all. Or, for those of us who kind of don’t think the human mind is equipped for the bottom, to see how far we can go without… losing touch maybe? It’s a fine line to walk.

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27 02 2008
all is on

It gets all tricky-sticky, covered in syrup, man–I mean, it’s great to get paid for thinking about beautiful things all day, but that’s such a personal reading of it (plus there’s the inherent work-study-write-read part of a ph.d that doesn’t appeal to all folks. Like lazy-ass me). I think it’s possible to glean greater meaning from this game called life without being above the work-a-day slob part of it all, it just requires something great of you. Maybe you only sleep two hours a night, or you mentally shut down during the office-hours so you don’t exhaust that poor grey matter to death, or you make like jewel and live in your car for a while. Abandoned buildings can also work–except that I think electricity and big fluffy pillows are pretty sweet things to have floating around your domicile, and I want them. I used to maybe wonder if I’d just like drive off a bridge when I turned thirty, to just cut my losses, but thirty is comin’ up pretty fast and Beck would be sad. Maybe fifty.

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