I was wondering about a lot of things today.
Love, life, the Universe and everything.
And then I realised I hadn't finished watching all 3 seasons of History Channel's The Universe. As geeky as that may sound, and I'm glad it does, I really need to find time to actually finish going through it. I am aware of the impossibility of me becoming an astronomer, astrophysicist, or even the coffee brewer at NASA or indeed the ESA, but that doesn't stop me from being completely and utterly in love with space.
The full moon these past few nights has gotten my imagination running mad, and the lofty dreaming that it inspires tends to render me a rather despondent creature, wishing he could actually go up, above and beyond. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not an outpouring of emo-ness wishing that there is more to life than the existence that I ponderously endure on a daily basis. It extends much further than that, into the realm of a genuine desire to see more of the not just the world around us, but the place it inhabits in the grand scheme of things.
I do realise that this is a theme that I continually go back to in my writing. The idea of adventure is a romantic notion that always gets the heart racing. Or the head thinking, dreaming, digesting and analysing.
Fly me to the moon. It's okay. I don't need to find a way back.
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