There's a lot happening in the world right now.
Hard to not hear about tragedy in Colorado. It's scary, it seemed like only a few years ago shootings were horrific rarities that stuck in our psyches. Now they're becoming all too common. I think we're starting to feel desensitized. At least, I do. And it worries more, because it seems like the number of them is exponentially expanding, what with copycats and the like. I feel like we're regressing back to the late 19th century, and all the romance is taken out of it.
On the complete opposite side of the spectrum, it's been 43 years to the day since the Apollo space mission planted Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong firmly onto the surface of our only moon, as Michael Collins watched from lunar orbit. One of the strangest, most compelling landmarks in our planet's history, the first steps towards a possible exodus. From these three men, we were given one of the most iconic pictures of the century: a shot of Earth, hovering over the lunar horizon. The first time that we, as a society, could take a step back and say "There we are. That's us." In a strange way, it fills me with solidarity. Despite the absolute geopolitical competition driving the act itself, enough time has passed that the lunar landing has divested itself from the USA in my mind. It's no longer about one country over another, it's about us as a planet. As in, we're all in this together. Not to say that we should throw down our guns and start passing the peace pipe, but it's a solid reminder that at the end of it all- when our sun dies, or nuclear winter sets in, or any myriad doomsday scenario occurs- we're a planet, and we're all going to live or die together.
Last but not least, I leave the United States in just about a month. Part of the reason I started this blog was to document my travels far outside my comfort zone, and it's about time I started giving some attention to that. On August 23rd, I'll drive down to SFO and hop on a nonstop to Hong Kong. And it's starting to affect me. I lie awake in bed most nights, thinking about it. I realize it's a very small-scale event in the scope of things- 9 months out of my entire life. But though it's a small step for a man, it's a giant leap for my life. This could very well change my entire perspective. Or not. I won't know till it happens, and it just tires me out to try and predict it. I'm excited. And pensive. And sad. And ecstatic. It's a lot of emotions rolled up into one. Emotion burrito.
I re-watched AMC's Hell On Wheels. The main character has a line that I can't get out of my head.
"The world ain't coming to nothing, son. Same as it ever was."