Friday, June 25, 2010
Insomnia City
This is Saturday morning. On Monday, I woke up early, showered and dressed for my trip. Hugged and waved good-bye at the airport, then dove into the out-of-my-hands processes at SFO- the mile-long line for ssecurity, hiking to Gate 102, 11 hours on the plane to Frankfurt, a 10-hour layover, then a nice Lufthansa semi-dozing flight to Amman. Got to Amman at 0200; my Royal Jordanian flight got pushed back from 0830 to 1600. Napped for a half-hour on the 90-minute flight. Got to the lap of Klecker, showered and slept. That was a Wednesday. Thursday I got a lot done at Camp Butler, but I kept falling asleep at six PM and waking up at 0100.
Friday I had breakfast, but skipped lunch and dinner. I won't skip breakfast today. That is, unless I fall asleep and doze through our 0900 formation. I feel pretty awake, since it's a bit after five PM California time, and I think my circadian clock is still set to PDT.
Been listening to Jimmy Buffet on Radio Margaritaville via my semi-decent internet. He has a way with words that makes me think there's a connection to everything. What sort of connection? Well, when I was much younger, the Beatles told me what I needed to know about life, love, and J. Alfred Prufrock-style life. Today, nine days after my 65th birthday, Jimmy Buffet is continuing to teach me. He sang a song about loving his ex, but in his own way. I think about my ex, but I don't know if I can label my thoughts as "love." Why not? we were married for 36 years, right? Well, there was a time when my happiness depended on her. Without her, I believed I couldn't be happy. Lots of Sturm und Drang later, I find I was not quite right. But Love isn't Happiness. Maybe in my own way (akin to Jimmy's song) I still love her. But I can't bring myself to admit it.
I step back and see things that happen to me affect me. I didn't know what I wanted when I was 25, so I married. Felt good for awhile. Sure a few less-than-ideal bumps, but my perception of marriage was that everyone went through "rough patches." Then the concept of rough or smooth lost its distinction, its panache: I was married, forever. Full Stop. This lasted a long time, a few decades.
The marriage ended and my life changed. But my brain and my heart didn't die. Hence I'm still thinking of larger, philosophical concepts. Concepts like Love and how Jimmy's song echoes in my memory, bouncing off thoughts I'd had when I was 16, when I was 27, when I was 57.
Thanks, Jimmy.
Friday I had breakfast, but skipped lunch and dinner. I won't skip breakfast today. That is, unless I fall asleep and doze through our 0900 formation. I feel pretty awake, since it's a bit after five PM California time, and I think my circadian clock is still set to PDT.
Been listening to Jimmy Buffet on Radio Margaritaville via my semi-decent internet. He has a way with words that makes me think there's a connection to everything. What sort of connection? Well, when I was much younger, the Beatles told me what I needed to know about life, love, and J. Alfred Prufrock-style life. Today, nine days after my 65th birthday, Jimmy Buffet is continuing to teach me. He sang a song about loving his ex, but in his own way. I think about my ex, but I don't know if I can label my thoughts as "love." Why not? we were married for 36 years, right? Well, there was a time when my happiness depended on her. Without her, I believed I couldn't be happy. Lots of Sturm und Drang later, I find I was not quite right. But Love isn't Happiness. Maybe in my own way (akin to Jimmy's song) I still love her. But I can't bring myself to admit it.
I step back and see things that happen to me affect me. I didn't know what I wanted when I was 25, so I married. Felt good for awhile. Sure a few less-than-ideal bumps, but my perception of marriage was that everyone went through "rough patches." Then the concept of rough or smooth lost its distinction, its panache: I was married, forever. Full Stop. This lasted a long time, a few decades.
The marriage ended and my life changed. But my brain and my heart didn't die. Hence I'm still thinking of larger, philosophical concepts. Concepts like Love and how Jimmy's song echoes in my memory, bouncing off thoughts I'd had when I was 16, when I was 27, when I was 57.
Thanks, Jimmy.
