the final charge

Went and saw "The Weatherman" yesterday...as usual, Nicolas Cage has an uncanny knack for engaging the audience as extensions of his everyman persona. Good film, well acted, and earnest in its approach to the true complexities of life (and it was worth just the price of admission, beyond Cage, to see Michael Caine as his father, his character's direct, no-nonsense approach to life typified by his explaining what a "camel-toe" is to his son).

In the last two and a half years (ever since I took the step of leaving California) I have been addressed on several occasions by people who wonder why I'm in Missisippi or West Virginia, or why I am not doing, as my career path, those things that I have proven myself capable of and competent at...especially in light of my eternally blossoming debt. It's a fair question, though often phrased as "What the hell are you doing here when you can do that?"

Hiding. Healing. Considering. The conflict of the maxims "He who hesitates is lost" and "Marry in haste, repent at leisure".

I have four things left to accomplish before I can, in good conscience, blow this popsicle stand...don't think I am not pressed to the stone, shoulders and back aching and legs throbbing as I press upwards. Sisyphus is a myth...I am not...eventually either the hill, the stone or the flesh gives out.

Place your bets.