What follows dreams...

(Some people would be concerned at someone declaring themselves to be their stalker. Me? I appreciate the attention.)

Sometimes the pleasures that technology take from us our the simplest kind. Such as spending a lazy Sunday morning reading the comics section. It’s not something that I do anymore and I don’t know many people who do. I no longer read a newspaper daily at least not a newsprint version. I just flick to the online version and besides I can’t bring myself to subscribe to the Kansas City Star. I prefer a newspaper that has a level of discourse above that of the typical Dick and Jane tome.

But my online reading has taken all of the fun away from reading the comics. The thrill you had as a kid of lying on the floor with the paper stretched out before you. Going through all of your favorites and those lesser strips you read just to have the moment last just a little longer. I don’t know if I ever laughed at Heathcliff or Marmaduke but I read them all the same. Now I’m lucky if I click on the latest Doonesbury or Dilbert. That sense of wonder is gone. I don’t think it is because I am older now. I think it is because I just don’t have that magical piece of paper flicking across my fingertips anymore.

I mention all of this because I just finished reading the new Charles Schulz biography and it made me think about all the time I’ve spent with the Peanuts characters. I’m an unabashed fan, a proud owner of a Snoopy painting and if I ever break down and get a tattoo it will probably be of Snoopy in full World War I flying gear. The strip was just a cornerstone of my life. People referred to me as a Linus. I read it daily and badgered my parents into keeping their Tribune subscription so I could always see it.

That’s what makes reading about Schulz interesting and a little off putting. He was just not what you would call a happy person. Depressed isn’t the right word because if that was the case he would never have gotten out of bed, never been able to create art day in and day out. More like he was continually ill at ease. Based on the biography you could tell that he was phobic and anxiety ridden. He was never sure if he was loved, never understood the attention and never thought that he was good enough. Reading the book it seemed like he was the ultimate guy who could never figure out how to stop and smell the flowers.

For some reason this makes me think of a story I heard about the Apollo astronauts. Years later a reporter went to interview the twelve men who had walked on the moon and found that they all had significant issues on their return. One went off to find Noah’s Ark. Neil Armstrong disappeared into seclusion on his farm. Basically they all came to the realization that they had walked on the moon. What else in their lives was ever going to compare to that moment? I think Charles Schulz found himself in the same position. What happens when you achieve your dream? Where in the world do you go from there.

I’ve been thinking about my dreams a lot lately. I live my life in terms of five year plans and my five years are nearly up. Some dreams I will fall short on and others I will accomplish. The big thing for me right now is to solidify my new dreams and new goals. Find that passion inside me for the next cycle of my life. How do I deal with achieving my dreams? I find new ones. It’s the only way I know how to keep moving forward.

Best of 120 Minutes: Sometimes in life all that matters is a name. A name like Toad the Wet Sprocket. Immortality can be so easy to obtain if you have a cool name.



The five random CDs for the week:
1) Tift Merritt “Another Country”
2) The Ditty Bops “The Ditty Bops”
3) Amy Farris “Anyway”
4) Sting “Ten Summoner’s Tales”
5) Kathleen Edwards “Asking for Flowers”