On Watching Fireworks

These are some things I really do not understand:

1. Yelling “America!” or “USA!”

Now, it’s great that you feel pride in your country and the 4th of July seems like the perfect time to express it. But really… what is the aim there? Are you trying to remind people where they are? I think we remember. Really, you’re just stating the obvious. It would be so much more interesting if people did that on totally random days. You’re sitting on the train and the person sitting across from you just says, “America.” And it just happened over and over again throughout the day/week/whatever. I can see a surreal element to that, which in my mind gives it much more of a point than saying it on the 4th of July. It’s pretty much redundant at that point.

2.  Taking pictures or video of the fireworks on your phone.

First of all, pretty much the point of fireworks is to experience them firsthand. They’re much prettier in person. Viewing a video or picture is a huge step back from that. Still, it can be worth it… if you have a good camera and a good view of the fireworks. Other than that, there’s really nothing distinguishing one set of fireworks from another, so what is your mediocre recording of it really adding to youtube?


It took over an hour from when we got downtown to get seated at the Gourmet Dumpling (really good food, though), but after we finally ate I felt ok enough to last through the fireworks. They were very nice. The Boston-dedicated segment got me a little, I’m not gonna lie. But OH my god, so many people… this was not a surprise or anything, but it was still a bit difficult to deal with. I am not at all a fan of huge crowds and areas where I don’t have a straight path to get to my destination. I don’t want to go into town for the fireworks next year.

If Only I Could

Well, first, I would stick an extra Saturday into this weekend, hoping it would give me time to really get things done. But I never use my time well, so it probably wouldn’t be a good idea.

I wish I could blast off into the sort of life I really want. Everyone tells you how hard life will be, but no one can ever seem to say it in a way that prepares you. No matter how well you think you know how it will go, you’re always underprepared.

I have dreams, man. So many dreams. The larger dreams of course have always been there, they don’t change. But sometimes other dreams pop up and they’re sticking. Some of them might not be possible, but others would be…

  • I want to have clear, perfect skin. I already drink plenty of water, but I suppose I could eat even more fresh fruits and vegetables… but yeah. I want to look in the mirror and see my face without constant, strategically placed blemishes.
  • I want to get a nice digital camera to take artsy pictures with. Not for doing real photography. That would require special lenses, and developing equipment, and all sorts of stuff that I don’t think I would be willing to invest in (at least, not any time soon). But if I could just take some good pictures, with a camera that works better than the crappy one in my phone, maybe I could show you what I see.
  • I want to actually sit down and read the Poets and Writers magazines that have stacked up since I started my subscription. I’ve rarely been really into reading magazines, so even though I’m really excited when they arrive, I tend to put them off to the side and then they don’t get read.

I would let it all go, and maybe I could walk into the sunset at the end of the movie, the big confrontation behind me, the bad guy defeated. Ever wonder, at the end of those movies, whether it really ends there and the cowboy can just go about his business in peace, or do you think another old western outlaw will show up before too long?

I would tell you. But I don’t like to think of what might happen…


If there was a crystal ball of some kind that could just give me some idea of where certain choices would lead, I would take a look. Sometimes not knowing has a paralyzing effect. I guess the devil you know… you know the rest. Or, rather, the adequacy you know, the good things about now, are not worth giving up for something that might leave you behind square one. Or something like that.

I feel as if I don’t know how to write anymore. I have too many thoughts, and none of them are properly distinguished from one another, so when I try to get them out, other ones come along with it, like trying to pull out a leaf and instead taking the whole vine. And asking for help? Please. Do you know me at all?