I wonder if maybe there might be something wrong with me, shooting out of the cloudy sky like a carefully constructed rocket, and smiling down on the dreary landscape that was yesterday's Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson. At least, dreary in comparison to the bright and sunny midday, warm, with only a slight chance of clouds, that was yesterday's Puerto Rico. Maybe I was just glad to be home, to see my own bed, to be able to check my email (formerly I thought being able to check my email on my phone was a good thing, but being unable to efficiently answer any of those emails, or quickly jump to the links they pointed to made it sort of like torture).
All I know is that I don't know. Much like the wedding. I wonder: if one does a competent, even vaguely memorable job, is that enough to make the day special? The feelings are there, like a driven locomotive, all a body has to do is not get in the way. Whatever hiccups there were, or shortcomings I feel that I had, the bride and groom seemed to have liked it. I breathed a sigh of relief, staring out into the island sunset, thankful for a whole wealth of things, namely that wearing that suit wasn't as hot as I thought it would've been. But I did wring my mind some, stressing over whether or not I did an objectively good job.
I'm also not sure about the distraction I took with me (those motion sickness pills double as both described and as a temporary sleeping agent): Roger Zelazny's "Lord of Light." Both covers, of course, were littered in compliments to both the writer and his novel. It was recommended to me by another adoring fan, also, saying that 'I'd like it' and that I 'really needed to read it.' Being trained in the English discipline, I can attest to there being something gained from 'reading the classics' and if the marketing is to be believed, Zelazny's 'Light' is nothing if not that. And to be fair, I'm about 100 pages shy of finishing it, but certainly, I imagined, if there is something classically amazing about it, ought it not to have struck me by now? Am I waiting to appreciate the sum total of the book, much like people enjoy the "Usual Suspects" or was it supposed to be some electric experience from the first chapter?
Yet again, I cannot say. All in all, the trip was a good one. I enjoyed numerous, memorable experiences with good friends, laughed a great deal, and survived it with very-minimal injury and quickly-fading discomfort. I would go back if it involved something meaningful for a friend, if I was somehow needed. I'm not sure I'd go back just for the going, however. This morning I checked the weather here: 37 degrees, cloudy, with a 20% chance of precipitation. I was excited because I'd get to wear a jacket and pants. Hm. Maybe there is something amiss here.
Speaking of, I would like use this dilapidated soap box of mine to shamelessly endorse myself. Aphelion has released their latest edition, and in it is my novella.