One of those dreams

I had this morning between my alarm going off and me getting up was extraordinarily detailed. It was my family's upcoming trip to Ireland, and it's only the second time I've been able to recall distinct physical sensations that accompanied events in the dream. The airplane accelerating and decelerating, in particular, and at one point I leapt for a white metal walkway perched above a blue harbour, my hand slipped, and I felt myself fall into the water and then rise to float on top of it.

But reading my daily dose of peak oil news reminded me of another dream I'd had before that one, where the population of the world was crashing and it led to anarchy and massive death all around. It was scary stuff. Too much is building at this point in history to allow us to keep living the way we do. I fear we will induce a self-genocide through ignorance, greed, fear, corruption, and stupidity. But mostly, I fear that it is coming much sooner than anticipated.


Every time

I hear the song "The Sea" by Morcheeba, I can't help but feel that's where I should be right now. It never fails to evoke still-oddly-clear memories of the Baltimore dockside, Charleston S.C. and the Yorktown memorial, San Diego and the Midway, driving over the bay in New Orleans. At times like these I mourn my lost life. Then, when one of my former classmates puts up an away message that says they're being sent to Panama at the end of the summer, and I think about Panama for a few minutes, I don't feel so bad.

Actually, I do. That was a lie. Despite everything I've learned about our great military machine and our rotting country and our unrepentant succling of oil from corrupt muslim kingdoms, I still miss the Navy and the people I would have served with. I'm playing EVE Online, which feels okay, I get to say things like "target is twenty cilcks out" and "i'm taking fire! shields down fourty percent!" There's comraderie, I get to accomplish missions with friends and break the ships and bases of bad guys.

But I don't get to live on the ocean.