Thoughts for a Snowy Sunday Afternoon

...I have of late--but
wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all
custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame, the
earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted
with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to
me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!
how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how
express and admirable! in action how like an angel!
in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the
world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,
what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not
me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling
you seem to say so.
---Hamlet, Act II, scene ii

I used to be funny. Lately however, while I appreciate a good laugh, and I seem to be genetically encoded to lighten a mood with a well-placed quip, there just seems to be so much that needs to be fixed in the world that light enjoyment almost seems wrong.

We are still in a criminally negligent war; there seems to be no one with the intellectual or political capital to propose a resolution. As a culture we're more interested in watching the slow decay of beautiful young women and giving credence to the hateful rantings of over-privileged men who wouldn't know an honest day's work if their illegal-immigrant maids served it up to them on silver platters.

And I'm afraid that this blog will become preachy and boorish because this is my overarching state of mind. This mindset is probably the fruit of being in grad school, which seems to be the antidote to any fun, but even when I read something so beautiful as Hamlet's speech I'm made sad -- not because its the frustrations of the melancholy Dane, but because I know I'll never write that. I'll never create anything that will endure like that.

I know! The audacity! That I should want to compete with Shakespeare for attention in the canon of Western literature just confirms the height of my ego and pomposity. Who am I, when at the moment the only writing I seem to be able to do are blog posts and portions of my research paper, and the occasional company-wide-published e-mail telling people to do their time sheets? No progress on the great American novel here.

So, when one is feeling like he is doing nothing of any significance to contribute to the national conversation, what is there to do? Why go to a party celebrating the American film industry, of course!

This afternoon I'm going to truss myself up in a new suit and head to Sidetrack and plunk down $50 in support of CGMC. We host an annual fundraiser centered on the Oscars. This is the third I've attended and they are loud and crowded and I would rather discuss the nuances of the Victoria Secret catalogue with Jeremy Piven than go; but I will make my appearance, sing a song, have a cocktail and then head home to gaze blackly at my navel.

The chorus is all about fun. Trust me, there is no discussion of Iraq going to happen at one of these rehearsals. And while I get frustrated with the politics of the organization, I do love to be part of it. The shows are ephemeral confections that seem to be adored by the core audiences. The friends I have who've seen them all seem to be genuinely impressed. I've done enough turkeys to be able to sense when my friends are just being polite. And while I only occasionally take on a prominent role in these shows, there have been some moments that have been some of my proudest on stage, and I've only stood at the back of the stage, almost invisible to the audience.

While I'm not going to write the next Hamlet or solve the Iraq debacle this afternoon, in spite of myself I know I'll have a good time and maybe that's every bit as important. Heck, it might be my patriotic duty. Isn't this what we're fighting for? If you find yourself at loose ends this afternoon, you should come down.